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I I n ,--,■„ "v ■■4JS51 -*f « I m MAPLETON; • Biblioth^que, „ ^^^ Le g^rninaire de OoStM, 3, rue de I'Universii^, Quebec 4, QUEj nt Htfrh Ux i\t BY RCELLUS OH 0» BBMSTOUirCB," " PBUJB asPAT OH OlSIINf lOHB,** 03 f «« ANnOCH,'* BTC. BTO. "The law which restrains a man froni doing misohief to his feUow-oitiaeDS, tboo^ tt dhninisb the naturalriscreases the oiril, liberty of mankind.**— BLAaxsrom. THIRD EDITION. MONTREAL: PUBLISHED BY J. 0. BBCKET, as*OBlAT St. Jamis Btriit. !; 185 3, Hi»y;i»'i'»-»nmp g"^' nitand afBOordlng to Aet of OongNM, in the year 1858, by JENKS, HIOKLINa ft SWAN, In tiM Olerk'i OlBce of the Diitriet Oonrtfisr the Siitriot of Munohaaettt. t I K^ **■ ■•'V/ •nBiOTrrxD wr . %'r- ,' ;. U HOBABT k BOBBIKS, Miw aKOLAXD *m AHD STKiaKyrTPa.fQinn>m BOSTOH. ■c 'i^4.i;i - ■ V! "?':,'-.<: ((j^-^- ij'*'!^:" i.t'ff.S'.-*;^ n •; '■:■., ■•«:■■;; '.''T PBEFACE. •Mbowttk '*!:!^'^ ■.1. '.■f';;!*' ■;J>?3>i I -T'o intense, too proAise, for pen or pencil ! The work is a humble contribution to a great reform in morals and legislation. The profounder deptlis of the subject have not been reached, much as has been spoken and written in the temperance reformation. The alcoholic currents flow deep down under forms of religious maniftsta- tion, under inspirations of genius, under legislative, diplomatic sad judicial agencies, tinder military prowess and valor, under hereditary disease and degeneracy, yea, under aJl the interests of humanity ; nor have they yet tally gushed forth through any of the openings of a vastly accumulated temperance literature. We see them not, we heed them not. The hissings and convolutions of the many-headed dragon have been described ; but the venom which he infbses into the sources of pur blood, into the atmosphere of thought and sentiment, and into all the subtier elements of life, what painter can de{4ct, what author or orator describe ? Two hundred years of legislation against drunkenness have accomplished comparatively littie. Everywhere, under our dd license laws, its seduc- tive madness may be indulged in for a few cents. Had the liquor traffic been as free as that of com, cloth or cotton, drunkenness would have been scarcely easier or cheaper. What is to be done ? Shall we leave the traffic to its course, or control it by stringent legislation I If left to its conrse, or to the present licensed causes of crime, humanity requires a kindlier provision for those who are thus made criminal than prisons, penitentiaries, poor-houses and the hangman's rope. Far better that the power now exerted in licensing the temptation should exercise its undoubted prerogative in prohibiting, under stringent and prompt penalties, the sale of intoxieating diinks as a beverage. ■w ,iri^ ^ I' CONTENTS. L MOOTUBMAL SOXmi— A GBKAT DANOEB, 7 IL THl OBOOOXBT— A ORBAXBB DANOliB, U in. IT IB A mABTUL NIGET, S8 iv. imi Nxw Hom, st y. A TOWN WITHOUT ALCOHOL, U TL IHS 017TP08TS OV THB ENEMY AT LENGTH APPBAB, 81 VQ. THB BNBBIT BNTEBS AT LAST, U. Tin. ALCOHOL AND BELIGION, 91 • DC THB ALOOBOUC TRAFFIC BEACHES A CBIBIB IN MAPLETON, . 108 X THE DESPAIR AND HOPB OF A DBUNKABDV BON, HO. XL THB INIQUITT OF A FATHER VISITED UPON THB BON, .... 188 Zn. CONSERVATISM OF THB LIQUOR TRAFFIC, 168 XHL WINE AND WTCOHCRAFT, . 183 XtV. THE FORCES RECONNOITRINQ, 19S XV. BLUDGEON FIGHTING THB DEVIL, 214 XVt» LOVE BETTER THAN DENUNCIATION, 281 X-Vn. WOMAN^ MISSION, 242 ZVm. HIGH LUB below bfAIBS, 266 XIX. THB DYING CONFESSION, 206 XX. THB SKAMPTON MILL GRINDING INFLUIiNCB, 2f Y XXL THE PLOT THICKENS, 292 f?f^ s* 71 OONTBNTS. XXTT. BUBIOUB SBUIlfniflinS, 4 MM XXm. XX0UB8I0M TO XHl VALUET Of TBI WTOMQf 0, 8U XXIY. WAB TO XHB KNIfB, 898 XXY. TO TBX WmWABD, HO!— THX UISTAKB DI800YXBXD, . . . 848 txn. ANOTHXK TBAOaDT IN llAFIiKrOM, 808 XXYIL A LBAP IBOM THX STTBLDa TO THB RIDIOULOUB, 8T0 XXVm. A DIVINl BIOHT TO BO WBONG, 884 xnx. mss habooubtv adyxntusks, sm \ XXX. TO THX BESOITX, 40T XXXI. THB YIOIOBT, 410 /^^^■y^^f«3^":^^:'~•r )::,', 'mj r:H^rp .■MVjt-i:-,;.--. ,"'■■'; \ '■' . . •■ ■ ■ , '^j'' ■,''-■■-■ ■■ ■:iK> ".">•#*"'. ?.ll^:¥-^v'*^ •:#■: , *•"'.: " -* ,'^ .- ■t A.r. , •^»:-^^'. \,.^r- ••-■■-^'■■ '^^ •l;'..^v^-;.^v.'\\#«.^i^Sfc-^^ .^l\ MAPLETON; <»> i /. MORE WORK FOR THE MAINE LAW. ^^^ r-^'V\ -**',-' ', ' ' I ■^^:' • ■ '^iM-f 'i!y- ?■;■,- :^S,«'5^^^ ■;:'m':' CHAPTER I. ^"^•■•^;.-•^-.;^-•'^^ NOCTURNAL SCENE — A GREAT DANGER. ,:.*^-' ,■•■1 *''*.!^f^l.' « As monumental bronse unchanged his look, — A soul that pity touohed, but never shook ; Trained, firom his tree-rocked cradle to his bier. The fierce extremes of good and ill to brook Impassive — fearing but the shame rf fear — A stoic of the iroods — a man irithout a tear." — CAXPnax. "My dear Charles," said Mrs. Douglass, "how have yon been, since you left us?" if,''H , ^ i. ! :, , , . , .^:>g- " Been, mother ! " replied the boy, with an eflfort to laugh in spite of his tears, " been as well as I could." t r> "Why do you weep, my son?" . v^ . ; i^^*' - "I do not weep, do 17 " said the boy, forcing his ruddy face into a reluctant laugh. "What a great country, mother! noble trees!" . ^.u ..^J " And fine roads, too," added Mr. Douglass, forcing his horses through a deep slough, which Charles, essaying to do with his team, got fast in the mud. " «-- "Ho, there, men!" cried Mr. Douglass; "bring your 8 .W' ^\ MAPLBTON; OR, ,* »Kt'4 leyers, seize a rail, — anything to help this boj out of the mire." ''" :. ^ \ _ . . . ■ i'< ■■ '. *■ -^.ixi^ " He, ho, heave ! — he, ho, heave ! — all together, — now again try it! he, ho, heave!'' cried a dozen voices, -whilo crack, crack, went the whip, urging the tired horses to their utmost endeavors, so that with difficulty at length the wagon was lifted out of the slough. sir. •t ih , v y Here began the migrating sorrows of the Douglass fam- ily. All before had been mere anticipation. This begins the rugged reality o^ an outcast life, remote from the scenes of 'other years, driven out by the demon of intemperance, which still haunted them with fears and forebodings for the future, as it had robbed them in the past of all that the heart holds most dear. Charles had left his native place in full glee. The journey and new-country life were full of excitement to his ardent imagination. He and his fellow- teamsters had started the goods a few days in advance of the family, whose lighter vehicle and fleeter horses had over- taken them at this point. They had just descended a steep hill to the level of the country below, — a country stretching off to a distance of ten miles, where it bordered on one of the great western lakes, and, at the time of yliich. we are speaking, was covered with a forest of imusual density. It was a forest whidi began at this point to be interspersed with an enormous growth of evergreens, beneath which day was always dusky, and night gloomy and hideous. ^^^ I* Charles, my child," said Mrs. Douglass, after they had passed the slough, '' I fear you are not so happy in moving as you expected." ._,; :^i,^ ^v^i^i..^ :\.^Hd- .k,. . " 0, mother ! " replied the boy, "I never saw such times as these. It seems to me our old hencoop is pleasanter than any house I have seen since I left home." mu£: -m ' i'^sMi^ T ■■'■ \\ .S^._,... MORE WOBK rOB THE MAINE LAW. '' Where did you sleep last night, Charles 1" inquired his fother. m^l'ir^ "We staid at Beach's, on the Ilissus, which was so thronged with emigrants that we felt ourselves fortunate to find a plank apiece to sleep on." * * " The Ilissus ! " exclaimed Mr. Douglass ; " pray where did you get that name 7 Beach keeps on Mud Creek." " Beach himself told me-, with much pride," said Charles, " that his was the oldest tavern-stand west of the Cayahoga, and that it gloried in a location on the flowery banks of the famed Ilissus." At this, father, mother and son, broke forth into uproarious laughter, in spite of their gloomy con- dition. "Beach has a classic imagination," said Mr. Douglass, " to convert the miserable fever-and-ague hole on which he lives into so renowned a stream ; it will make the old Attic poets mutter in their graves. That will be a fine story for Harry, when you see him again." " Well, there is one good thing," said Mrs. Douglass ; " Beach keeps a temperance house." ' "How did you leave Harry?" inquired Charles, begin- ning to weep again, at the mention of this most intimate of his school companions. . ^ ,; , " Cheer up, my son ! " said Mr. Douglass. * ' ^'* " Cheer up, father ! " rejoined Charles, still determined to get the better of his home-sick feelings. •, - ,;., -r. ' ' Good-by, Charley, ■ — good-by , Charley, — good-by ! ' ' cried the younger children, as their father plied the whip, and left their eldest brother behind to the bitterness of his own solitary reflections." "^ ^-'^- - »^ -^ '■- ^^^ ^^^s? ^ ^ Though other teams were in advance of Charles, he was the sole occupant of his own in brining up the rear. It Urm 'i' •»'" 10 MAPLSTON j OBj near sundown, and five or six miles of the won^t road ever travelled remained, before reaching the inn where they pro- posed to pass the night. The intervening forest was almost unbroken, in which the darkness soon became so profound that he could not see his hand before his &ce. Here the wild beasts had their lair, and held nocturnal revels. Here the hideous howling of wolves, with the humdrum sound of the hedge-hog from his hollow tree, and a thousand dismal voices, as of ghosts stalking in the gloom profound, soon opened upon Charles a scene of fearfulness and terror of which his susceptible imagination took an impression never to be eflFaeed. Dolefully crept his team along over the cor- duroy bridges and through the splashing mud-holes, follow- ing the leading of a lamp carried by the one at the 'head of the defile. Thoughts of the past and of the future troubled the poor boy's mind. He saw the lines of sorrow in his mother's face as she parsed him, and it went to his heart. He knew how good and noble his father was by nature, but how sadly fallen through the seductive habits of fashionable society. He had drank as a gentleman, till it ended in his drinkicg as a sot. He had stood in the highest rank of society, till what was deemed honorable to his position had brought him to the lowest, and sunk him and his &mily in the slough of poverty and disgrace. He had reformed, it is true ; but too late to recover caste in the cherished home of his ances- tors, and was, therefore, driven to seek it in distant emigra- tion. Charles was old enough to realize the cause of his fitmily's misfortunes ; and now it preyed upon his mibd, and added to the pain of his dark and dismal journey. At length, his horses came to a dead stand. He plied his whip, goaded, coaxed, and scolded them, but all to no pur- pose. His manly feelings repelled the idea of betrayug fe^ MOBE WOmC FOR THI ICAINB LAW. 11 bj calling for help. He dismoanted, to lighten the barden and give him grater oommand of his dispirited hor8es| bat still the iHunobility of a stone held them dead in thdr tincks. He now lifted up his yoice to the men with all his might; but it was too late, — he conld not make himself heard. What to do he did not know ; and yet his courage was roused to the utmost, having increased with his increasing cause of fear. But his danger was greater than he knew ; for near him, on an uprooted tree which lay on a superincumbent mass of underbrush several feet above the ground, a panther, the fiercest of feline animals, was pacing to and fro. His eyes shone in the darkness like balls of fire. Charles saw them, though not with much alarm, because he knew not their naiure, supposing it to be phosphorescence; and yet the motion seamed to him strange and unaccountable. The monster crept slowly along on his downy feet to the point of the tree nearest his victim, where he " sat squat like a toad," with an excited motion of the tail, such as is common in this species of animals as they are about to pounce upon their prey. Charles was now more alarmed, and called lustily for help, though he was not aware of the imminence of his danger, nor did escape seem possible, had he known it ever so well. No response was given to his call, and there the poor fellow stood in the very jaws of death, under the impenetrable curtain of night's deepest gloom, in the bosom of a howling wilderness. 0, horrible! Alas, to what straits are innocent children reduced by the recreant habits of parents ! Measuring with his burning eyes the distance, the monster gathered up all his niighiy strength for a fierce and unfailing leap upon the boy's throat, and then darted like lightning towards him, when, lo ! v, flash lighted up the gloom, a gun exploded, and 12 ICAFLITOH; OB, f I IT* ! 'fei It i ? '& hb hand at his feot a heavy fall, witl ^^iy^li >~»»v.a<^, jsnarling, gurgling blood spirting in his &oe, and all ths signs of a feline animal in the agonies of death. Before he had "time to collect his thoughts, all at once a torch flamed up, revecJiag a tall, yellow man, with tattooed features, and the oat rims of his ears hanging pendent, with coal^blaok eyes, and a horrid mien. It was an Indian, who was reposing for the night on a couoh of evergreens after the fatigue of the chase, and who, awakened by the loud outcry of the boy, had caught sight of the panther's flaming eyes jusc in season to level his trusty rifle and pierce him through the head at the instant of his lea^, so that he fell dead at the feet of his victim. Charles had never seen an Indian before:) and now to meet one at such a tijie, and under such circtlmstances, made the blood leap through his veins with accelerated force, and the agony of an imaginary danger was far greater than the real (me which he bad just escaped. When the savage, with his biasing torch, moved towards him, he was idmosc beside himself with fear. The guttural articulation of sounds which ho could not understand would have greatly increased his fears, had not the motions and signs of the Indian soon assured him that under his hideous appearance lurked only kindly intentions. JPCe explored with his torch the nature of the boy's trouble, and set himself to the task of relieving him the best way he could. By this time the men with the forward teams, having missed their youthful charge, had reached the scene of action ; md, after a due amount of astonishi. 3nt at what had hap- pened, they proceeded to whip up the partially rested horses to an endeavor towards progress. The Indian, whose name was Oanaudeh, was the only relic of a tribe which had perished in the all-consuming fires of MOBB WOBK FOB THB MAINE LAW. 18 alcohol. He himself had been in the last stages of the same infatuation ; hut, coming to a sense of his danger, and agonized by the death of his kindred, had resolved, with savage firmness, never to taste another drop of the poison, and thus had survived as the monument of an unwritten temperance pledge. He now roamed, a solitary hunter, over those wilds which, as the chief of his tribe, he had once ruled with regal power. Thus rum's victims from the two extremes of civilized and uncivilized life had met, in the persons of the boy and the savage, and under circumstances of darkness and .danger suited to their own sad experience from this bane of [society. There grew up, after this, a mutual interest between [the two, which made them sharers in some of the events re are nr to record. Onward the emigrant wagons trundled ; over roots, over flogs, throug^^ mud and through water, compounded into a bottomless chaos; heaving, pitching, rolling, tossing, r— man [and beast, as it were, dead with fatigue, and seeking their entombment in the inn and its stables to await the resurrec- tion of brighter day. CHAPTER II. THE GROGGERY — A GREATER DANGER. " Drink and be mad, then, — 't is your country bids ! Gloriously drunk, obey the important call ! Her oause demands the assistanoe of your throats; Ye all can swallow, and she asks no more." — Cowfbr. The inn was a plain building, partly log and partly [framed, or an original forest-cabin, bought out by a wealthier •mmmmi 9 «> 14 MAPLITON; OB, proprietor, aiii^ weilded to a framed building ib white paint, presenting the contrast of Othello and Desdemona. The bar was in the black or devil's part, as it was called, directly adjoining the parlor in the framed building ; a common atmos- phere of rum and tobacco exhalations and fetid breaths, per- vading both rooms alike, as the door between the two was ever on the swing. In one side of the bar-room was a genuine log-cabin fireplace, with stone wall without jamb or mantel-piece, reclining against the logs, and surmoimted by a chimney made of sticks and mud, in the form of a tunnel, with the little end upward, serving the three-fold purpose of funnel, ventilator, and skylight. The hearth was the house-' hold sewer, to which the disgusting overflowings of rum and tobacco found their way. The bar itself was a strong enclosure of boards and lattice-work, from which issued an incessant stream of poison, carrying madness to the mind, disease and death to the body, and poverty and woe to families. One of the best apartments was occupied, on the night of the Douglass' arrival, by two gentlemen ; one a great land- holder, and owner of the inn, farm, and all its appurtenances, while the other was his lawyer and a member of the legisla- ture. Both had just come from their distant homes in the East, — the landholder to look after his own estates in these parts, and the other to assist him, and also to attend to the business of another client, who was expected soon to emi- grate. The name of the landholder was Skampton, known among his neighbors as the patron, or patroon ; that of the lawyer was Marldon, and that of his other client Harcourt. The room occupied by these gentlemen had a cheerful fire blazing on the hearth, — more^-to expel damp than cold ; two single beds, — the only articles of the kind in the house ; a plain table in the midst of the rooip, with a mug of whiskey- •M ''■'':f?i?s; MORE WORft FOft «H1 MAINE LAW. Ii5 punch smoking in the centre ; and a due allowance of chairs, with a small looking-glass. This, for a new country, as they say, was more than common doings. Marldon took the punch which he had just ordered, and, filling a glass, offered it to Skampton, saying, " Drink, my friend, and drive away dull care (( I" ton. ing No, Marldon; excuse me, — I never drink," said Skamp- * What ! you never drink, and make so much out of drink- ?" "Well, no one is encouraged to drink by my example; I 've that to say for myself, — I 've a clear conscience here. But every one to his taste. Because people are determined to 'put an enemy into their mouths to steal away their brains,' must I relinquish my business and my revenues ? Must I give up this house because people come here to drink? If they are determined to have a place of the kind among them, may not I, who am doing what good I can with my money, reap the advantage as well as others, and thus convert the income into channels of benevolence 7 " "Your reasoning is soundly worthy client, though your [example strikes me — please excusse it — as a little over- strained. So long as Scotch wh^key and warm punch are such acceptable libations to Morpheus, after a fatiguing day, such abstinence Is out of the question to me; " saying which, he put the full glass to his own lips, quaffed its contents with a gusto, And, smacking his lips, added, " Good, good ! fit for the gods ! " " By the way, Marldon, how does the Liquor Bill fare in the House?" " Dead and damned, I can assure you.". " You are too harsh in your language." Id maplhton; oB| \\ " I only quote the words of our enemiefl, these renegade lecturers, who say of one of us, when he kioks the bucket, * Gone to a drunkard's grave, dead and damned.' If ihey say this of a manj may I not say it of this confounded bill? That cursed law has deprived me of 'more business, so far as the states have been fool enough tc adept it, than anything which has happened since I entered the profession ; and I have sworn, by all the*gods, good, bad and indifferent, that our state shall not be fooled into it. It shall not, it cannot pass ! " ''What makes you speak so confidently, Marldon? Had the House rejected it before you lefl? " ''No, I left in the midst of the discussion,-^ forced away by Harcourt's business, as well as yours. (Poor fellow ! his commercial speculations have exploded, I suppose you know.) But, then, I found that not a few of the House are habitual drinkers, and a man will not vote the cup from his mouth. D' ye thmk I 'd vote away this comfort ? " he added, drinking again. "Is that your only reason? That don't strike me as sufficient ; for they can lay it by in quantities, and keep their own bar. These demagogues will do anything to court the people. What do the people say?" " 0, they make an outci'y to please these blackguard kc- turers ; but we know how to bring them right. In^uence and money will knock them into pi." " Then you think the representatives, left to tljpemselves, will go against the bill?" " Yes, all but the fitnatics ; and even they complain that it is not stringent enough." " Not stringent enough?" . / v - » - *' No, not stringent enough. They go for pouring the r MOBB WORK FOft ISUi IIAINB LAW. If rldon ? Had 'good erator' into the gutter; This is strongly mooiced in one of oar Eastern states. These rascall j lecturers have fed them with cayenne so long, that they now demand fire. They will go yet tbr burning the houses in which rum is [found. There is no end to the demand of these agitators." ''What are we coming to!" said Skampton, raising his hands in blank astonishment. " Coming to ! that 's as plain as the nose on a man's face : coming to longing up by the neck every rum-dealer ; coming to bumin^ds house over the heads of his family ; coming to worse tin^l|#han ever heretic-burning inflicted upon the [world. ^Iait#'is no telling what we shall come to, with the [public run m|d." " Was evetiisuch persecution waged upon unoffending men ! lat is p t)e done ? Is there no hope of protecting our- ' selves and our business ? " said Skampton, anxiously. I think there is," said the lawyer. ''In the first place, we have all the drinking members of the House on our side. Then, the speaking is done chiefly by my profession, and we [understand too well which side our bread is buttered to go lagainst the interests of some of our best clients. Besides, the liquor-dealers are all-powerful. Their gains were never 30 great as since temperance times. The conscientious fools [who have given up the business turned their profits over to those who are not so mealy mouthed ; and the present enor- mous profits of these few malfe them rabid against stringent legislation, and give them money to buy votes, newspaper- \ squibs, and to do, in various ways, the most deadly execution in opposition to it. The whole thing, depend upon it, will prove an abortion." "May a gracious Providence so order! " said Skampton, 2* • I t i r 18 MAPLBION; OB, with an expression that showed how much the subject had preyed upon his mind. ,, «, In the midst of this conversation a gentle rap was heard at the door. Skampton arose and opened it, when he was surprised to meet a ladj, whose countenance was one of in- telligence and refinement, but overcast with anxiety and distress. It was Mrs. Douglass, a lady now somewhat over thirty, matronly in appearance, and dignified in deportment, who desired 4 word with the gentleman that owned^the inn. . "I am that gentleman," said Skampton jwff walk in, madam*" ^ ■%«* She did so, and occupied a chair which he pl^i^ly handed her. She hesitated a moment how to introdji^p the subject that bore so heavily upon her heart. At le|jgy||8he said, with an effort to restrain her tears, '' I unders&m sir, that an order from you will be respected in this hoi\se." ''I own it, madam, but have nothing to do with its man- agement ; that belongs to my tenant, t>ur landlord. If you have any business pertaining to the. ho^se^ jrou nmat look to him." ""■: " :r^ir;T;'' ;"■-; •::;:-^%. " I have seen the landlord, sir, but in vain, I am sorry to say," she added, with a sigh ; and the tears now fell profusely down her fine face, in which some old grief had evidently written its deep lines. " What troubles you, madam? what do you desire? has anything happened since you *bame to the house?" inquired Skampton, with an expression more repulsive than soothing. '' It is a delicate subject, sir, for a wife, especially one who has the best and most generous husband in the world, when he is himself. But, alas ! he has not the power, under all circum- stances, to be himself. He waa born in affluence, and spent bis early years where custom made the use of strong drink ..,■ ). >h^ MOBB WOBK TOR THB MAINE LAW. n necessary to a manly oharaoter and gentlemanly position. He had no natural propensity for it, — it was rather disgust- ing to him than otherwise ; he was pure, noble, and an honor to human nature. Sir, you will excuse a wife's partiality in saying to you, a stranger, what was a matter of notoriety in our former home. But habit wrought such a change in his nervous system, or created such an appetite for strong drink, that he eannot resist the temptation to use it to excess, when- ever it is brought within his reach, and he tastes it at alL He went to all lengths in dissipation ; wasted my patrimony and the most of his own, — all except a &rm not many miles from this, inherited from his grandfather, — and finally brought on delirium tremens, from which he just escaped with his ilife. So horrible were hi» sufierings that he did not return [to his cups when he recovered, but has lived now two years without tasting a drop. The happiness of our house is restored, and our affairs have become so prosperous that we are going to our new farm, with the means of establishing our young family in comfort, and to acquire for them, I trust, a quiet home and a good reputation. My great anxiety is, to [guard my husband against the temptation to his former [habits, to which he cannot return without involving us all in [irretrievable ruin." ^i-; ^m ^^m-^*'^^^-^^^ :^^'i^: "Well, what of that?" said Skampton,Jn a dry and withering manner. " If a man will make a beast of himself, an angel cannot save him." *^*' .i4i^?^ ;r(5;*^ f "But, sir," said Mrs. Douglass, with an expression of I grief that would have touched any other heart, "there is I everything to me and my little ones in it. If he were insane,' think you I could trust him in a room with deadly weapons ? Should I not implore the occupant of such a room to be on his guard? A room where intoxicating drinks are freely dealt 1 tr io ^i MAFLBTON; OB, otit is equally &tal to my huabuid) whatever joa please to name him." >* * << Why then clid you bring him here?" said Skampton, with great nonchalance. " that it had been poesible to avoid coming! We must <6migrate, — we must stop somewhere. Such a retinue an ours could not be admitted to a private dwelling ; and there was no tiltemative but to stop here or expose our famished company sUpperless to the tlews of the night. Necessity has V, compelled us hither ; and now, to save my husband, this — tibis is all my concern. In the name of humanity, sir, I . t>eseech you to help me ! " . " What can I do, woman 1 Are you mad 7" ^ " All I ask is, that you give orders to your ten^t that not B drop which intoxicates be allowed my husband, for money or persuasion. Let all he would be likely to buy be added ' to our bill, — I will freely pay it ; but will you not, for my lake, let the poison itself be withheld? Will you not take //Jpity on my helpless children, and do as much as this?" "Why should this be necessary, if your husband has become a temperance man?" said Skampton, with a sneer at ft movement which he always abhorred. "0, he is not proof against temptation. This is his first trial, I think ; and I see, by his movements, that ho cannot withstand it. The instinct of a wife has revealed to me this dreadful truth. He is fatigued with a long journey ; is de- pressed at parting from all the friends and associates of former years ; has been, for an hour or two, restive and Wretched, as if he felt himself spell-bound, — held by the ■serpent's bewitching eye, — and the very odor of alcohol has| ' clisarmed him of his powers of resistance; so that I know he I ^ Will drink if he can get it, and we shall be ruined. He has ! $'. UOItl WOBK FOB TBI HUNB LAW. / been, for some time, just as miserable as misery can make him." " Speak to the landlord, madam ; the house is his, and not mine. I have contracted the use of it to him, and have no more control over it than you have." "I have done it, sir; but he only laughs, and insults me. >> "Every trade must live," said Skampton. " I have gone to great expense in purchasing and fitting up this house for the public accommodation. It is a great thoroughfare ; and thousands have suffered just as you speak of, by depending on private accommodations. I could not keep the house [myself, but let it to one who makes that his business. His [best profits come from his bar. If it vrere not for that, he iwould have to charge what many could not afford to pay for [food and lodgings. Would you have him sacrifice all his profits? If your husband is disposed to make a beast of I himself, I am not to blame. Would you have me cut in I upon the profits of the house 1 If I do it once, I may again [and again, and there would be no end to it. I shall have [nothing to do in the matter." i^H. .,. . Seeing that further remonstrance was usAess, the grief- btricken wifo in silent sorrow rose and left the room. Alas ! low numerous are the wives in Europe and America of whom [she is the sad, sad representative ! v^uv^*,?* ^,^! P ^ ij^.^.M^^^/ "Served her right," said Marldon, sipping his punch; [adding, " It 's a scene ; women are made to weep, and it does Ithem good. She '11 feel the better for it. She has the [unction of feeling herself a martyr, and you her executioner. jl have had my trials with womer's tears in my day, I can [assure you ; and I know there 's no way but to be firm, — be I firm. Human nature is what it is. You and I did not make It UAVLWtOlX] OB, it 80 ; but, if We 6an make temethittg otit of its being «o, ire should be confounded fools to let a woman's tears pick our pockets." "It would gratify me to please the woman," replied Skamp- ton, a little shookefi bj this bold logic ; " but, then, Marldon, I have no right. I might give up my profits ; but I have made a contract with my tenant to give over to him the stand, with all its appurtenances, for him to make the most he can out of its business, and it would not be right for me to subtract from his income. I should violate my contract, which, you know, I am not a man to do." " No, not right, not legal neither," said the lawyer. *'He could sue you for damages on the terms of your lease. Zounds ! I 'd like to manage his suit against yon, if you had listened to this piece of female impertinence. All bargains, to stand, must show a quid pro quo, of which you would take away the quid if you interfered with the business of the bar." This legal quid suggested the idea of his tobacco quid ; whereupon, taking out his silver case stowed fhll of the vegetable bane, — like putrefaction in a gilded cofiSn, — he proceeded to surcharge one of his cheeks till it projected like a wen, and then dropping his head, now soporific from alcohol and tobacco, he sunk into a profound sleep. u ! \ MOBX WORH FOft TUB JJMXNB LAW. ^ CHAPTER III. IT IS A FBARFUL NIOHT. ** Shorten my days thoa canst with sullen sorrow, And plaok nights from me, but not lead a morrow. Thou canst help time to fUrrow me with age, Bat stop no wrinkle in his pilgrimage." — Su^kspeark. When Mrs. Douglass reached the parlor, she found her husband pacing to and fro in an excited manner, with hit eyes fixed upon the open door into the bar-room, which was filled with people in the various stages of intoxication, from the first fiery glass to beastly, unconscious helplessness. She saw, she felt, that the fumes firom this hell were fatal to his better impulses, and that he was on the point of making a hopeless plunge into the abyss. He heeded her not when she entered, so' intent was his mind upon the burning appe- tite, and the means of its gratification. But she could not give him over. Denied all protection from the house or its owner, she now resolved to exert her utmost skill to save her husband, thankful that not a drop of the maddening liquid had yet mingled wilh his blood since they entered the house. Wiping her eyes, and clothing her face in the win- ning smiles of a wife's devoted love, the sweetest of earthly- passions, she took him by the arm and paced to and fro with him, saying every winning thing which her ingenuity could suggest, to divert him, and enable him to preserve the com^ mand of himself. "My dear George/' said she, '' this is certainly a beauti* V \ 24 IL&PLETON: OR. 1 ful country ; it ia much pleasanter than I feared I should find it." ' " Glad of it," said he, laconically, as if hardly conscious of what passed, from the ^ery rage of one feeling within. " I wish our Charles was here," she added ; " I desire our children every moment under my eye." " So do I, but I can't expect it," he rejoined, in the same dry manner, still occupied with his one consuming idea. " How far have we yet to go, George 1 " " Fifteen miles," he said. He had no sooner spoken than a gentleman and lady entered, with three beautiful children, and, gazing at them a moment, he rushed forward and seized the gentleman by the hand, exclaiming, " Bless me ! Charles Durham, is this you 7 " "Possible, Douglass!" said the man, staring intently; " are you here 1 How glad I am to meet you, after this long, longtime!" " Charles, you are a noble fellow," replied Douglass, " and look as well as ever, only more manly ; and this is your wife, I suppose." , "Mr. Douglass, my dear Amelia, of whom you have heard me speak so often as my chum and dearest of all my schoolmates," said the man, introducing his wife; "and Mrs. Douglass, I suppose ? " • " Yes, Mrs. Douglass, who has heard as much of Duiham as your wife has of Douglass " The two groujis of children were also introduced, each falling into its place as naturally as if they had lived together for years. Children and kittens are never strangers. Mrs. Douglass assumed an air of the utmost civility to her husband's friend, though the name of Charles Durham was a thunderbolt to all her hopes of saying him, on aooount of the • i\ .^ 1,-C- f.\.. MORE WORK FOR THE MAINE LAW. 25 ih of Duiham much she had heard of their former convivial intercourse. She feared that to part yrithout drinking together would be impossible ; and she knew that tasting one drop would involve her husband in certain intoxication, to be continued perhaps for days, till "delirium" came to ^ end his wayward career. 0, the agony of a wife with such a spectre before her mind! Durham was a man of about thirty, several years younger than Mr. Douglass, extremely elegant in person and manners, and withal so well dressed, and apparently in such fine con- dition, that it occurred to Mrs. Douglass, as an encouragement, that perhaps he might have become a teetotaller. His wife was a lady of twenty-five, with a li^ ely and sparkling expression of face, beautiful form and features, with a profusion of rich auburn hair that hung in ringlets i^round a forehead of marble polish and whiteness, and cheeks in which the lily and the rose had blended their choicest hues. Though the mother of three children, she still retained much of the freshness and elasticity of "sweet sixteen." The children were tastefully dressed, well-behaved, and altogether it wus one of the most engaging family groups. She had been considered an heir- ess, and her husband, the only son of distinguished parents, was thought " the greatest catch" in the whole community. It was not customary then to make much account of the occasional "sprees" of a young gentleman of fashion; and hence the frequent aberrations of Durham were regarded rather as evidence of spirit, or as an evil of which time -vould effect a cure. But, unlike Douglass, his appetite for strong drink was inherited both from father and mother, neither of whom could be said to be drunkards, but whose temperate drinking had so far wrought upon their hidden nature as to taint the blood of this sole heir of their name and their for- 8 hii* ill i! ■■ vi ttuid. \\ map'^eton; or, Charles would have his high times, ieven from child- hood; though, ^whether drunk or sober, he was always one of the best-natured fellows in the world. His wife loved him devotedly, though he had caused her much trouble, and had wasted their fortune, except the means of a very moder- ate beginning in the new country. She still clung to the hope that, being there out of the \;ay of temptation, he would reform, and they should be a prosperous and happy family. Indeed, there were many points of resemblance, as well as of dissimilarity, in the domestic history and present condition of these boon companions of college-life. For the sake of his dear Amelia, whom Durham loved to adoration, how did he curse his habits and his nature ! How did he long to be where the bane could never reach him more ! With what tearful eyes did he sometimes regard his children, two girls and a boy, in whom he felt all a father's pride and joy ! But still the serpent was coiled round his heart, and no tears or resolutions of his own, no ties of family and home, could disengage him from the folds and fangs oL-the destroyer. Both these wives were sharers in the same fear, the moment of entering this hell. Had they fallen into a den of robbers, it would have been no more tormenting, — no more fatal in its consequences. The two gentlemen soon became absorbed in conversation on by-gone days, their wives saying or doing little except to watch them with trembling solicitude, the more so from the convivial associations revived by their remarks and allusions. At length, Mrs. Durham was called to superintend her chil- dren's retirement for the night, and Mrs. Douglass was left to keep vigils alone. Her children were already in bed, though the infant slept fitfully, after the fatigue and exposure of so long a journey. A moment more, and it began to MORE WORK FOR THE MAINE LAW. m. f. scream, as if it were in agony, and the anxious mother waa compelled- to leave the parlor. She soothed the little one, and, taking it in her arms, returned to her po«»t, deter- mined to throw herself and screaming child across her hus- band's pathway to the bar, if that should be necessary to save him from the charmed eye and deadly fangs of the ser- pent which from that den lured to deceive and destroy. But, alas ! it was too late. The moment she left the room, Dur- ham said to his friend, ''Come, we must have a treat over this unexpected meeting." Glancing his eye stealthily round the room, to make sure [that his wife was out of the way, Douglass replied, "Here 's [for you, then, in spite of the devil ! — what '11 you take ? " "Brandy and water; plain doings, but what's better?" [said Durham. Whereupon to the bar they made their way with nervous haste, and had swallowed each of them half a glass of brandy just as Mrs. Douglass returned with her screaming child. "0, George ! my dearest George ! " she exclaimed, run- ning into the bar-room, with her child still screaming. " You know what the effect will be ; how can you take that poison?" But the venom had already gone to his brain, and he was stark mad, — partly with excitement, and partly from the effect of the brandy, after so long an abstinence. Lifting himself up to his full length, he turned upon her his burning eyes, and swore, by all the powers above, if she did not leave the room instantly, he would be the death of her. "I'll have no meddling here, wife ! " said he, with a stern counte- nance. "That's right! no petticoat government in this room!" growled the burly-headed, half-drunk landlord, from his pigeon-hole. M MAPLBIOK: OB, '} S*) '' An' &ith, me lady, this is not seeming to your grace with your squalling brat, and so I '11 bilp ye oot," said an Irish laborer, with a tin dish in his hand, suiting the action to his words, and giving her a push towards the parlor-door. " That 's right, Pat," said the fiery-&ced lan41ord. " Put her out ; we '11 have no Jezebels here ! " Durham smiled upon her benignantly, singing snatches of bacchanalian songs, and beginning to dance about the room in wild and frantic glee, — so that, what with the screaming of the infant, the cursing of Douglass, the singing and dancing of Durham, the brutal remarks of the publican, and the still more brutal conduct of his man, together with the general demonstrations of a drunken brawl among the intoxicated company crowding the bar-room, it was a scen0 not often witnessed this side of the infernal regions. There was this difference in the effect of strong drink on these two men, — that, while it inflamed Douglass' sense of personal conse- quence to the state of a judge or a king, and made him com- bative as a lictor, or executioner, it had directly the contrary effect upon Durham, rendering him extremely bland, loving and jovial, so that nothing was too good for him to give or do for his friends. Both were alike mad, — only the madness of the one was terrific, making nothing safe in his presence, whether limb or life ; while that of the other was harmless and happy, full of mirthful romance and seductive song. " My dear Mrs. Durham, what is to be done 7 " said Mrs. Douglass, as she met her new-made friend coming to the scene of action. ; s |. " 0, my dear, I don't know," replied Mrs. Durham, with great concern; " mad, both stark mad, I suppose? " " Yes, perfectly so, and surrounded by madmen. I have barely escaped with my life." ;t / '': MOBE WOBK FOB THE IfAINE LAW. n " What ! Charles offer you yiolence ? I never knew that of him." "No, i)'j! it was not your husband, but mine, and this miserable landlord and his man. Brandy always makes my poor George furious ; and it is a miracle that our family are all alive, after what we have gone through." " I should not mistrust it, from his appearance. He don't look hke a man who drinks, and least of all like-one to be dangerous, if he did." "He has not drunk a drop of intoxicating liquor for two yearo till this fatal night. 0, my heavenly Father, what shall I do ? — what shall I do 7 There 's no cure, no cure, ,but death! It was the delirium tremens that cured him [before, but he cannot survive another attack. Nor can he [drmk without bringing it on, after the shock his constitution has received. 0, it is so dreadful, as if all the evil spirits had come in bodily shape to torment a man ! " I " Charles never had that terrible disease. His turns of drinking are only periodical, lasting sometimes a week or two ; and the intervals between them, at least latterly, have often been long-continued. 0, I did hope, in this wilderness coun- try, to get.bSyond the reach of an enemy which has been the blight of our lives. But it is here, — it is everywhere ! " Saying this, she stepped to the bar-room door, and found it fastened now that the prey was secure ; but the singing of her husband she could distinctly hear, mingled with the curses of Douglass, who had by this time quarrelled with all who were in a mood for it; and the medley of sounds" from the bar-room was n.ore like the wailing and gnashing of teeth in outer darkness, than like the scenes of earth. Owing to their dissimilarity of disposition in the hours of laadness, Douglass and Durham never quarrelled between themselves, 8* • ■ ' 80 ,;\< I MAPLBTON; OR, W 1 ill! but seemed niiited by a singular tie of affinity, as if alcohol had kindled between them a morbid flume of artificial sympa- thy and of fellow-feeling, l^heir wives, seeing how fruitless were attempts to save them, now desisted, and resigned them- selves to black despair. Mrs. Douglass' infant continued still its incessant screaming ; and, in addition, her anxiety about Charles added another pang to her 1 ready lacerated heart. O ! could one-millionth part of the misery occa- sioned by alcohol come distinctly before the law-makers of our land, they could not fail to see their duty to adopt and prosecute a stringent course of legislation against the gigantic evil! .--.VI..' ^■^.. ■.-<;% Chairles at length arrived, almost dead with fatigue and excitement, from the labors and dangers which he had encoun- tered. Leaving his team to the men, he hastened tO. the bar- room door from without, and, entering, looked round upon the drunken group, to find some one of whom he might inquire for his family, his supper, and his lodgings. But, before he was aware of what hurt him, he received from his father's fist a blow which knocked him across the room and felled him senseless to the floor. Mrs. Douglass heard the noise, and divined the cause, as she knew her husband's mad- ness Avas always most embittered against his own family. Resigning her infant to Mrs. Durham, she went out of the hall door, and ran round and entered the bar-room where Charles had just gone in. Her husband, seeing her, made a pass at her head ; but the blow was parried by those of the drunken crew who had some humane feelings left, who protected her till she had carried out her child, and placed him on her own bed. For half an hour she stood over him, rubbing his limbs, bathing his head, making hot applications to his chest, and doing everything for his restoration which a mother's ;--.-J»*S MORB WORE FOR THB MAINE LAW. 81 love could dictate. The first thing of which Charles was conscious was his mother's tears falling like rain upon his cheeks, aa she stooped down to imprint the kisses of tender- ness and concern. The agonized thought of their condition, which now flashed across his mind, drove him almost to mad- ness. His mother, brothers and sisters, with himself, the hapless family of a drunkard, seemed to him the mcst miser- able and the most hopeless of living beings. He wished himself dead, and that they were all dead with him. " 0, mother ! " he said, " such another night I never saw, and I pray God I may never see again ! I have just escaped death by a wild beast, to find in my own father a still more [dangerous foe." " What do you say, my son? You are wild, — not quite [yourself yet." "Yes, mother," he replied, kissing her; "I am myselfr Would I were not, — would it were all a dream ! " He then related the adventures of his nocturnal drive through the wilderness, at the recital of which she too felt the force and horror of his reflections. ► ^ -? ^:v:r■ " 0, my son ! my son ! God be praised that you are spared ! " she said, and again renewed her fond embrace. "Perhaps it is that you may yet be a comfort to your mother, and the salvation of the family. We must hope, — yes, we must; but for hope, the heart would break." • v.' / "0, mother ! I see no hope. Better dead than alive. Why had not the humane panther been left to put me out of my misery 1 Better die by a brute than by one's own father. Why did you not save him from this riot ? " " I did all I could to save him, my dear son. I besought the landlord and the owner of the house not to give him the cup for any consideration. I wept, and begged, and entreated, m MAPLBTON; OB, ! I but all to no purpose. We are in the hell, and, if we all sink together, 1 shall have this to reflect upon, that I did what I could to escape it." Mother and son now wept in silence, with arms closely folded round each other's neck, seeming thus to resign themselves to their fate, — the most miserable fate that mother and son ever endured, — that of being a drunkard's wife and child. a %.■,!: (if w.j>- " My dear Charles, you have had no supper." " No, mother, I cannot eat ; I never wish to eat again." !■ :i:r« You must eat, my child ; " and, calling the only servant who was still up, she ordered tea and toast. The servant, touched with sympathy, hastened to do as she was bidden. After tea Charles revived a little, and soon sunk into a sweet sleep. Mrs. Douglass then joined her new friend in the par- lor. Neither of them could sleep. The horrid oal^hs, angry blows, obscene songs and infernal fumes, of the den into which their husbands had fallen, drove sleep far from them. They walked the room, and wrung their hands in agony. Description falls short of the reality. Imagination must sup- ply the rest. " 0, thou invisible spirit of wine ! If thou hast no name to be known by, let us call thee — devil." Thou art the incarnation of all devils, — lust, revenge, pride, filthi- ness, suspicion, envy, jealousy, murder. Tby march through the world is strewed with human bones. Thou art bap- tized in tears and blood. Thy name is legion. There is no I wrong which thou dost not instigate, no lust thou dost not inflame, no pang thou dost not render more poignant, no law thou dost not violate, and no virtue nor joy thou dost not despoil ! Who hath woe ? — who hath sorrow ? — who hath contentions ? — who hath babbling 7 — who hath wounds with- out cause 7 — who hath redness of eyes? They that tarry] long at the wine; they that go to seek mixed wine.' j> '«!S^' f^9m 0. MOBB WORK FOB THB MAINS LAW. 88 It was now three o'clock in the morning. Thick mists hung over the fiice of the world. The stars shone feebly from the ethereal expanse. Night had gathered all its forces to resist the onset of coming day. The distant wolves, prowling over nature's untrimmed an<^ boundless domain, where their reign had never been disputed, kept up an incessant howling to make night hideous. The bat was on the wing, and the owl from his tree-top gave forth his ominous note. The genius of rapine and murder, ensconced in foul exhalations, awaited its victims. The dense darkness of approaching dawn had brought upon animated nature a deeper sleep, and a pro- founder insensibility to danger. Charles felt the spell, and lay in the lap of unconsciousness. The infant had [ceased its moans, and forgotten its sorrows. The household ^was all quiet, except the wary publican and his hapless vic- tims, to whom he was dealing out " liquid fire and distilled damnation." The ladies, too, still kept vigil, awaiting they knew not what. They could not sleep while the dearest objects of their aiFection were thus in the hand of the destroyer.; ;.;•",.,.", 7':^ "■ ' '>■ ,"^' ■'^'^■ Thus things were situated, when all at once they were aroused from their dreamy despair by yells and screams resounding through the darkness, and. echoing from the con- tiguous forest, as if murder, with all its myrmidons, were indeed out upon its work of blood. The sound did not reach the bar-room ; it was neutralized by the more terrible medley within. Mrs. Douglass and her friend hastened to the back door, from which quarter the noise seemed to come, and, looking out, they saw lights from a log-cabin in the yard a few rods back of the main building. They hesitated, irres- olute as to what should be done. Blow after blow, accompa- nied by the stifled shrieks of a female voice, convinced them • mi m ii 3! i ■ 84 MAPUBIOKi OB, that deeds of fearful import were enacting in the cabin. Without reflection, they obeyed the dictates of humanity, and, taking each other by the arm, they groped their way till they could distinctly see, through the crevices of the unpUstercd logs, a man dealing deadly blows upyn the person of a woman. Mrs. Douglass instantly recognized the man as the one with a tin dish who had so violently ejected her from the bar-room. His name, they afterwards learned, was Pat Tooney, the farmer of the establishment, against whom his employer contrived to make an annual liquor-bill equal to his wages, leaving his wife and eight children to support both him and themselves. When Mrs. Douglass saw him, he had come with his cup for his evening pint of whiskey, which, added to what he had drunk in the course of the day, made him quite mad. In this state he began to catechize his wife about her provision for friends whom he expected the next day. .,^ , . „ j " Have you kilt the turkey, Jenny ? " ;j-||..j|;;'- *' Yes, Pathrick," was his wife's submissive reply. , " An' how have ye dhrissed it 7 " added Pat, full of explo- sive anger. . , ,,,^., . " I drew it, but cor.ld not get the sinews oot of the legs." '' That's beliking your husband's frinds, is 't, ye jade?" replied Tooney, striking her a furious bl«||^n the mouth with his fist. Mrs. Tooney screamed from fear and pain, and this it was that called the attention of the ladies. Determined to prosecute the war to the knife, Pat began now to question his wife about some change he had seen in her hands, and threat- ened to kill her if she did not give a true account. The ' poor woman tried to obey orders ; but, before she had spoken three words, the frenzy took him again, and he struck her BO violently in the breast as to knock her down. He then fell to kicking her stomach and side, as she lay on the floor, ')\ IIOBB WORK FOB THE MAINS LAW. wlien the ladies made bold to break in upon Iiim, and beg , him to desist. This only exasperated him the more ; and, I seizing his wife by the hair of her head, he dragged her about till she was totally insensible. Seemingly alarmed at (this symptom. — or perhaps the madness of intoxication begin- ning to subside, — he sei/.ed a pail of water, and dashed it in her face, to revive her, twice repeating the application aftcr- I wards from a pitcher. She gasped for breath a moment, and then — as it proved in the event, though not suspected at the moment — she resigned her spirit to the God that gave it. IKneeling down over the head of his deceased wife, the wretch [began to say, in plaintive tones, " Jenny, you love me ! Do ,rou not love me? do I not love you?" But no voice mswered. All was still, awful, — the wife of a drunkard Fdead by his own hands ! The ladies did what they could to restore her, but all to no purpose. Tooney was soon missing, and could not be found. When this fact was made certain, the whole group of children, who had remained hid, like chickens from the hawk, came round the corpse of their mother, uttering lamentations such as the impassioned Irish alone know how to express. The ladies devoted the rest of the night to laying out the corpse, and alleviating the misery of those whose fate so much resembled their own. Morning — rosy-fingered, celestial, beautiful, true to its promise of relief for the woes of the night — cume at length, to greet the expectant emigrants, and to invite them from their human den into the balmy air and sweet light of a new day, to bask in the fragrance and loveliness of nature's fresh and expansive luxuriance. The robin and blue-bird were carolling from their pendent bough, and myriads of dew-drops added lustre and brilliancy to the enchanting scene. The repose without was as profound as if no tempest had 86 #x •{'.>/#■ MAPLBTON; OR, m-: '.-viB! raged Tvithin, and the dawn appeared not in the habiliments of sorrow for the events of the night, but in all the brilliancy of her jewelled and variegated robes. On returning from the cabin to the inn, the ladies found that the landlord had disappeared. His place was supplied by a bar-keeper, who seemed more susceptible to the touches of humanity. They were silent as to what had happened in the Irish family, lest they should be detained as witnesses, and prepared to hasten their departure. Those tenants of the bar-room not too much intoxicated to get away were gone ; and their husbands they found on the floor, in each other's arms, dead drunk, and aa helpless as they were unconscious. Brandy has its sympathies, and drunkenness its fellow-feel- ing. The bar-keeper kindly promised, if they awaked and balled for more, not to give them another drop. Charles was refreshed by sleep, and, though much bruised, he was able to walk. The wnole neighborhood was astir about the murder, but Mrs. Douglass and her friend kept their own counsel. Skampton and Marldon, hearing of the occurrence, deemed it prudent to be off as soon as possible ; and they drove away together, before they got their breakfast. The ladies mutu- ally agreed that their safest course would be to leave while their husbands were yet insenb.' h, and incapable of resist- ance. They were all soon re-packed on board of their wagons, having their drunken husbands stowed away in a place where they could ride without injury; and thus, at length, they made their escape from " this breathing-hole of hell." •« I c v; -•■n-- ^,^^ IIOBB WOB< FOR THE MAINS LAW. •••. 1 CHAPTER IV. THE NEW HOME. .V'"-'''''^»V' ■Vr, "Dun. This oastle hath a pleasant seat ; the air . ' •' '' Nimbly and sweetly recommends itself •?., ^"l/' ' Unto our gentle senses. .r;^;... .:■,.,. ' . •. "Ban. This guest of summer, The temple-haunting martlet, does approve. By his loved mansionry, that the heaven's breath Smells wooingly here ; no jutty, frieze, buttress, ' Nor ooigne of vantage, but this bird hath made His pendent bed and procreant cradle. Where they Most breed and haunt, I have observed, the air * Is delicate." Shakspearb. Mrs. Douglass set off with a heavy heart. She clung, with the fondest feelings, to her hushand. The scenes which had deprived her of sleep the previous night only put her womanly love to the test, and made it burn with increasing constancy and tenderness. Her heart never went forth to her dear George, her adored husband, with such perfect abandonment. She realized how much it must have cost him to deny for two long years an appetite of such over- mastering strength ; and he had done it out of regard to her and her children. Virtue practised against such force of resistance seemed to her four-fold more praiseworthy. "0, my George, my dearest George ! at what a cost have you main- tained so long your temperance ! Your appetite has become your misfortune more than your crime. Your crime was in first yielding to the preposterous customs of society. Your wife will love you, George ; yes, she will teach her children to love you. She will love you the more that others hate a MAPLETON ; OR, ■■;« and despise you. Yes, George ! you are my own dear, gen- erous, noble and faithful husband; and all I desire, except — except — what you cannot help — an appetite for strong drink, over which you mourn, more than wife or children, or any one else. I will comfort you, George; yes, I will. Duty and affection alike dictate that I should soothe your anguished feelings." 0, who can estimate the purity and strength of a woman's love 7 Still, she felt for her children. They could net enter into her feelings as a wife. They were more than orphans, and might, in future years, curse their relationship to such a father. Alas ! it is &r more fatal than relationship to parents who have already died a virtuous death. As a dictate of more than usual tenderness, aha felt what she must have her whole family round her own person ; and hence crowded them all with ber into the same wagon, with the addition (5f a driver, as Charles was too much bruised to manage the horses. It was a large vehicle, whose bottom she first covered with bedding, and laid her husband upon it, carefully tucking him up on all sides, with the pillows and bolsters, to prevent his being bruised. Above were two seats, the forward of which she, with baby in arms, occupied, beside the driver ; on the hinder one Charles and his two brothers next to himself — George and Samuel — were seated ; and the two little girls, Mary and Cornelia, insisted that they would sit on the bottom, beside their papa, to keep him steady. George and Samuel were old enough to have some idea of the cause of their father's trouble ; both looked sad, and were silent on the subject, often reaching forward and kissing their dear mamma, as if it might be some mitigation of her sufferings. Their lips would curl with grief, and the tears would start, whenever they did it. B«yond this *\xej gave i-i4'--i ^:;' i -■J.; > -.■Is. MORS WOBK FOB THB MAINS LAW. m no signs of sensibility to nrhat had happened. But the little girls thought their dear papa was only sick ; and how full of sympathy and caresses were they ! Mary sat on one side, and Cornelia on the other^ pressed close against his head, to hold it firm, bestowing kisses on his lips, cheeks, forehead, "Mamma," said little Mary, "has papa got a fever ?—* his breath smells so ! " • " Don't disturb your father, my love," replied her mother, utung to the quick by the child's allusion ,to the fetid relio of the bane. - *^^ ■ "'■m-^^ -y^^-::. ^ " Papa," said Nelly, " don't you know me 7 " " How can he, when he don't see? " replied little Mary. "Can't you hear me, papa?" inquired Nelly again. " Why don't you speak, papa? Dear papa, do speak ! speak to your Nelly ! " Thus they travelled for several hours. Their road lay through an unbroken wilderness, where nature's exuberance was unrestrained by art, — a scene of solemn grandeur, full of the inspirations of poetry and romance. The dense shade of enormous tree-tops, interwoven and intertwined, like an over-hanging veil, had so effectually excluded the sun's rays as to kill out the underbrush, and leave an unencumbered surfadi between the large trunks of the trees which studded the soil. Still, in passing over roots and knolls, the w.%gon often rolled and pitched at a fearful rate, and all the efiorts of the children were necessary to hold their father in ihis place. Not many minutes intervened when the mild and tearful eyes of Mrs. Douglass were not turned towards him, to see that all was right. At length, in one of those glances of affection, she saw two streams of tears running down his face, to Gdsure her that his consciousness was restored, though •f'. / I ^1 #1 iiti( 'Pi IP H i - MAPLBTON; OB, . ;. ^ chagrin and mortification kept his eyes closed and his lijps sealed. When his little daughters kissed his lips, he would turn away his face, as if fearful of tainting their pure breath bj contact with such a mass of pollution as he felt himself to " I am the plague-spot of this innocent group ! " he thought within himself. " that I were dead ! I am a grief to my wife, and a shame to my children. I am not fit to be loved by such angels." Ah ! could that landlord, and that propri- etor of the miserable groggery in which these wounds had been inflicted, — could they have looked into that drunkard's heart, at this moment of returning consciousness, how poor a compensation for so much misery would their paltry gains have appeared ! Such a quid pro quo is enough to make avarice relent, and covetousness relinquish its gains. Even Marldon might have been touched with pity. The profits thus wrung out of human weakness and vice are u. canker upon the souF, to eat into it like fire. It is a merchandise of woman's tears, a trading in worse than orphan grief, dealing out infamy and hopeless ruin to a helpless group of little ones, whom the winds had not otherwise rudely visited, merely for the sorry satisfaction of having a golden stream flowing into one's own purse. ! if one vault of final despair is more dismal than the rest, it will be occu^ed by the caterer to the drunkard's appetite, the promiscuous dealer in intoxicatinff drinks, whether by wholesale or retail, bj the pipe or by the glass, from the distillery or from the bar, to obtain the proceeds of vice and misery ! We will now give Charl s' impressions of his new home in iis own words. His recollections are more graphic — though p, little over-wrought — than could be expected from a sec- ond-hand description. "We reached it at dusk," he says, -If , ^-,- -ij^. ■^* . ■ f\ KOBE WORK FOR THE MAINE LAW. 41 " haviii^ travelled but fifteen miles the last day, — the roads being rough, and faUier's condition so peculiar as to more or less retard our progress. He — poor, dear man ! — -was per- fectly himself when we arrived, though miserable as misery could make him. He seemed disappointed and shocked at his own return to a vice which had cost him so much, and against which he had fortified himself by so many resolves. It was several days before he became at all reassured ; and then it was more from the consciousness that he was in a town without the accursed traffic in alcohol than from any reliance upon his own virtue. We all gathered round him, and loved him as we never did before. My mother was unre- mitting in her attentions. My little sisters clung to him every moment he was in the house, from an undefined feel- ing that he had been unhappy, and might be again. And as for myself and brothers, we were more than ever respectful and obedient to him. Still, I could often detect him weep- ing bitter tears, as if, however we might feel, he never could forgive himself. But, gradually, our new circumstancep and new home, and, more than all, his yet unstained reputation in town, wrought in him the confidence of a new life. .,v , " I was charmed with our new home. The house, the trees, the clouds, all to me had the charm of novelty and romance. It was a block house, built of square beams, care- fully hewed and adjusted one upon another, with a layer of lime-mortar between, to make a solid wooden wall. It had three apartments, each eighteen feet square, standing in a row, the whole building being fifty-four feet in length and eighteen wide, — not symmetrical, but convenient. It was whitewashed without and within, thus contrasting beautifully with the leafy canopy which waved above and around. The family-room was the centre, while the right wing was used 1: I m m i m ill y,i>' 42 \. MAPLBION; OB, for parlor, and the left for sleeping apartments. A half-story above afforded space also for study, storage, and various purposes. It was rural and romantic as a whole, and I always had a home feeling in it to make me regret abandon- ing it for a more stately mansion. It taught me how inde- pendent our happiness is of architectural proportions or costly trappings. This house, and a fifty-acre wheat-field, which we found investing the earth in a rich mantle of green, were the result of my father's attention to the farm before remov- ing his family. He had preserved a young growth of maples directly round the house, to beautify our home. Altogether, it was a sweet place, which poetry might choose for its own, had a man any in his soul. " On the night of our arrival we laid our beds on the floor in a promiscuous jumble, and cast our fatigued bodies upon them without ceremony, and soon lost ourselves in a dream- less sleep. My father was the only exception, whose heart had evidently been preying upon itself through the night j though his thoughts were turned to account, probably as a means of diversion, in excogitating the plan of a bay-window, to give us a more commanding view of the lake which formed the northern semi-circle of our sensible horizon. Our house stood directly on the bank, and the said window was located over our back or lake door, in the upper story ; and seemed literally to overhang a glorious expanse of molten silver, giving light to the room which was assigned to me for a study. I was already, by the way, nearly fitted for college, and here completed my preparation, under the tutelage of my mother, whose father was a clergyman, and had carefully trained her both in the classics and the exact sciences. This bay-window, therefore, is connected in my mind with many tivit,// -Md ^y ^■ijjw^^- MORE WORK FOR THE MAINE LAW. 4S tender and interesting associations, which must be my apology for the minuteness of my allusions. " The matter of the bay-window being settled, we plunged at once into the turmoil of putting furniture into its place. In the course of a week, each article and utensil had found its proper nook and corner. As for myself, I was too much excited to take an interest in such commonplace affairs. The logging-field, the woods, beach, birds and beasts, had greater charms. With my iron-wood lever I now lifted with the men ; now ran to fasten the chain on a log, and watch its reluctant movements as it found its way into the growing heap ; now seized the goad, and, with genuine boyish pride, ^ exercised my authority over the oxen, wondering that such huge animals should be so obsequious to my gee, haw, whoa ! If ever boy lived on enchanted ground, I did, months after our arrival. My father allowed me my bent, whether to work or play, from an ovey-indulgence arising probably from the peculiar state of his own mind. I leaped ; I ran among the thick trees ; I plunged into the limpid lake to regale myself with swimming ; I gathered smooth pebbles along its shore ; I watched the gyrations of the eagle through the ambient air, and saw him poising his wings to descry his prey, and from his lofty elevation pouncing upon it like lightning, bearing it from its watery home to nourish the ugly growth of his young ; I climbed the tallest trees to sport myself with his eaglets in their eyrie; I skimmed the lake in our family yawl, with my younger brothers for oars-men ; I watched the summer fallow as it gradually disrobed itself from its black mantle of burnt logs, and put on the beautiful green of grow- ing wheat. I waded brooks and threaded rivers, and gathered nuts and berries, or listened to the evening note of the loon from his hiding-place of mist, like a voice from the unseen 44 BtAPLElON; OR, :?'.-fc'>i*' II M8»lt world. I noted the water-spout stretching down from the pendent cloud, like a vast line of pitchy hose, till it touched the surface of the deep, through which the genius of storm pumped a supply for his aerial reservoirs. I once saw a corpse dashed ashore by the curling surf, asking the favor of a forest grave. I f^azed upon jostling clouds floating over the watery expanse like the drift of mighty rivers. I beheld stately forests bowin^^ obsequiously to the imperious hurricane, as the slave to the yc>ke that galls him. All these, and much more of a like character, were among my new-country experi- ences, charming my fancy and inflaming my imagination. "My father's land had long been in the family, and known as the Doiiglass tract; being included in a wider extent of country, that went under the name of Mapleton, from the number of its sugar-trees : an appellation too characteristic and beautiful to survive the ;age for a Grecian and Roman nomenclature which afterwards prevailed. It was a large town in its superficial area, including an extent of country twenty miles in length and ten in breadth ; and was one of those locations which Providence seemed to reserve, from the foundation of the world, as a gift of special beauty and loveli- ness to the men of the nineteenth century. The tide of population began now all of a sudden to flood it, as if impatient of the restraint which had so long withheld it from the fair domain. - . r ., -- ^.^ "I was naturally arbitrary and imperious. I did not know it in my youth, till bitter experience taught me the fact. I domineered over my brothers, who regarded me as their oracle. They rowed the boat, while I, proud as the captain of an Indiaman, sat perched on my little quarter- deck, with helm in hand, ' the monarch of all I surveyed.' When I think that one of these dear associates of my youth f H ♦v, ""■ . ^^ MORE WOBE FOB THE MAINE LAW. 46 is now no more, dying in a manner that makes me shudder to remember, the victim of a parental madness which had been induced by a nefarious traffic, my blood boils, my indignation is kindled against law and legislation, and I sigh for one sweet hour of converse with that dear brother, to express my sense of the wrongs he suflFered from me, and much moro from society. But, alas ! alas ! this is a work which must be postponed to the unknown of eternity. We had our explor- ing voyages, as we called them, in one of which we visited the river that bounded Mapleton on the west. We started at early dawn. The night had been rainy. I enjoyed as never before the magnificence of lake-scenery : an unbroken wilder- ness on the one hand, {w waste of limpid water on the other, with here and there a sail in the distance, which, through the reflection and refraction of light from a hazy atmosphere, seemed floating among the clouds, a glorious illusion. Beneath us reposed the crystal lake, whose deep bottom was so dis- tinctly visible, through the denser element, as to give our yawl the appearance of being also upborne in air, hanging poised like a sea-gull between heaven and earth. The rising sun was veiled in a curtain of rosy clouds, while the shrill note of the loon, and the piercing scream of the eagle, and the songs of ten thousand meaner birds, floating over the watery expanse from the contiguous shore like the music of angelic harps, added to the deep bass of muttering thunder grumbling and bellowing from a black cloud in the west, all conspired to realize what the Arabian poet felt and sung : ' • - - - ' Bright smiled the morn, till o'er its head The olouds in thickening foldings spread ^t. On this side and that were vast ledges, and two rocks lifting their menacing tops to heaven, under whose jutting summits the secure sea far off reposes in silence ; while above was an arbor in the brilliant trees, and a dark wood impended with dismal shade. Under the opposite front a cave opened into the pendent rocks, within which sweet waters are found the home of the nymphs. Here no chains hold the weather- beaten ships, and no anchor with curved fluke binds them ! Was this backwoods scene mdied by iEIneas in his wander- ft. Ji... i'Trf -Kf: r r 4 MOBB WORK FOR THE MAINE LAW. 47 ^'L-^^id^^'.'_>^>. ^«»-4, .(.«;. ..*>♦*>- ings? thouglit I to myself. I fancied myself an Argonaut, in pursuit of the golden fleeoe ; and lived over those charm- ing days when navigation, cradled in its tiny craft of hark or skin, emhowered itself in deeply-wooded hays, and threaded serpentine rivers, under the gloom of overhanging forests, rarely adventuring the storms and quicksands of the open sea. " My brothers here left me to return with the boat, while I made my way on foot, partly to enjoy the forest scenery, and partly to do an errand for my mother to Mrs. Durham. I followed up the river a few miles, and was still more im- pressed with its scenery. A deep gulf, ploughed by a giant hand, intersected a comparatively level country, opening a passage for the escaping waters, which leaped from crag to crag, in a succession of thundering cascades, — tumbling, dashing, roaring, foaming, while the eternal forest rejoicing in the sole monopoly of the river-god, gave 'uack his voice with exultant jubilation. The proud divinity was yet unde- graded by the servile work of twirling wheels, turning stones, forcing saws, or of ministering in any way to those lordly conquerors who have since despoiled the forest of its ancient rights. Here the bears and wolves had their lair ; and here, too, wily troops of naked savages performed their n15cturnal orgies. Here blood has flowed under their teeming toma- hawks. Ye ledges, trees and cascades, could ye speak your tragic histories, what details of anguish and woe, what notes of captive sorrow, what dire assault of embattled clans, what visages of sullen despair and of cheerful hope, would ye unfold! . ' ^ . ..^ , ?- „ i, " Here I diverged from the river, following up a lateral stream, which leaped and bounded at my feet on its way to mingle with the river and the lake. I had advanced but a few miles, before a beautiful valley, skirted with a circum- 48 v^ MAPLETON; OR, \f vallation of hills, opened upon my view, and, near its centre, I saw the smoke of Mr. Durham's cottage rising gracefully among the overhanging trees, and settling round upon the contiguous hills. As I approached the cottage, I met Mrs. Durham out among her plants, with trowel and hoe in hand, loosening the earth, extracting weeds, training creepers, and in various ways assisting the efforts of nature. I had seen little of her at the inn ; and never, till this moment, was so impressed with her extreme loveliness. The abandon of her manner and dress, in such a neglected place, may have added somewhat to the effect. One might almost fancy her a Hebe, a Ceres, or a Juno escaped from Olympus, to find a more congenial haunt towards the setting of the sun. Her cheeks glowed with health, her eyes beamed contentment ; and her whole manner was that of a beautiful woman, who had long lived in peril of what was dearer than life, liid in a castellated tower, or securely wandering abroad to inhale the free air and enjoy the boundless prospect of nature. The moment she saw me, she ran, with delight, and caught me by the hand, saying, * Charles, I am delighted to see you ! How is your mother? bow are you all?' I had not time to answer before Amelia and Lydia, followed by little Charley, came running to give me a kiss, — it seemed to me of joy, at this relief of their solitude. - .^r>^ " ' We are all well, quite well,' said I, as soon as I could disengage myself from the children. * And how do you like your new home ? ' ' "'It is everything we could ask, except society,' she replied, with a look that revealed the keenness of her feel- ings at such an exception. ' ^ *^ * Can't have everything we want ! ' I replied. 0, no ! ' she added, with a tear ; ' but how hard it is to (< (( < ^S«-' '.St';* > \ MOBE WORK FOR THE MAINE LAW. 49 r haA*d it is to be weaned from society ! Still, society is our groat danger. You understand mo. How is your father 7 ' '' ' "' Perfectly himself,' said I; 'attentive to bis business; seems happy j so we all are.' '> - "'One could wish,' she added, 'that society had fewer temptations, that families like ours could live in it with safety. But, so long as governments uphold and protect what i8 our ruin, — yea, get a part of their revenue out of our insanity, our tears and our infamy, — there is no alternative but escape and hermitage. I am convinced of this; and, therefore, am content to forego home and friendship^ and all I love, except the dear ones with whom my being is iden- tified.' The manner of her saying this went to my heart. What ! laws such that a lovely woman, who would grace a palace, is compelled to seek security in exile and banishment ! Accursed legislation ! how long ere some truly Christian and philanthropic Solon shall arise to stay thy barbarous hand '? How long ere every tenth family of a community shall cease to live in peril of character, property, limb and life, from the legalized abominations in the midst of which they have their home 1 Never did I feel the iniquity of the alcoholic traflSc as I felt it at seeing this voluntary exile from the circles in which she was born to shine, — this living, but immolated victim, thus sacrificed on principle, and by law ! " ' My mother desired me to say,' I added, ' that she has in her mind the plan for a Sunday-school in town, and wishes you to join her in it.' " 'I am glad to hear that your motlier's thoughts take a direction so useful,' she replied; ' and shall be most' happy to aid her as much as I can. But are not the people too much scattered ? **^^'*' "'Yours is the only family,' said I, 'which is really 60 ,v^ maflbton; or *> V-, 7iy;\'XX m isalated ; and mj mother thought, if you could attend, others would be likely to.' " ' I know we are furthest from neighbors ; but then we have good vehicles and safe horses. Mr. Durham, I know, will be delighted to aid mo all in his power. Where does your mother propose lo meet? ' " * At the Gore School-house ; that is the most central.' " * But when does she begin 1 ' " ' Next Sabbath she proposes to meet you and a few others to arrange matters.' " * Very well, — I will be there,' she added ; when I thanked her, and turned to go. " ' No, don't leave yet ; walk with me into the garden.' " 1 did so, and was delighted with the scene of beauty which it presented. Mrs. Durham had brought with her the plants of an amply furnisbed green-house, to which she had added a great variety of flowering annuals, and almost all the wild- flowers of the country. She led me round among them, and called my attention to their varied beauties. Here the prim- rose spread its open petals to the light ; there the variegated japonica, with a delightful blending of red and white, exulted in its gaudy attire. Here the alba plus, with its large flower of virgin whiteness, nature's token of purity and innocence, seemed a direct ofishoot of the plants which bloomed under the hand of a sinless Eve ; there the japonicus elegans lifted its lofty branches on high, all clothed in scarlet and gold. Here the ranunculus revealed its incarnations, with various hues of loveliness ; there the caila Ethiopica, the / ' verbena, and numerous varieties of the .".actus, the geraniiyn - and the rose ; and an assemblage of beauties, indigenous and exotic, too great to be , particularized, added its own pt^cu- liar form of enchantment to the transporting scei^. Her v'^&j'^ t \ MORE WORK FOR THE MAINE LAW. 01 husband had begun a plain but convenient receptacle for those among them that could not endure the winter, where his wife might still enjoy her plants and her flowers during these lonely months of her exile and her solitude. He appeared to have been the more careful to provide for her these means of alleviation, from a consciousness that he was the cause of her banishment." . . v,. ,.< ., ., : Mi^i CHAPTER V. S I ■k - A TOWN WITHOUT ALCOHOL. J' .K A. ■»;i',P;', ' ■' ** When fiftrca Temptation, seconded within .'^ : By traitor Appetite, and armed with darts ^^'.•^■■ Tempered in hell, in vac ^ ^ the throbbing breast, .,,■ '';!^'''« -■■ ' , To combat may be glorious, and success i.^^? ■ Perhaps may crown us ; but to fly is safer." — Cowfeb. Mr. Durham's farm was surrounded by lands held by distant owners Avho would not sell, which accounts for the extreme isolation in which his family lived. They had not a neighbor within two miles. Their experience, after leaving the groggery, was not unlike that of the Douglasses, except that the temper of Durham himself was never moody, but always cheerful and buoyant^ He had so far recovered from the effects of the poison by noon as to manage his own team, and entered into free conversation with his wife on the events of the preceding night. He said, "Will you believe me,^ dearest, that I entered the miserable place v^ith a fixed resolution that I would not taste a drop? " " Why, then, Charles, did you not keep it 7 " " ' '"^ " Beca."se the smell of brandy produced a total oblivion 52 18. uW; ''tis. If*'!'' -.' > MAPLBTON; OR, of the motives to keep it. The associations reviyed by meet- ing my old friend also had their effect." ^' \ " An oblivion of the motives to virtue, Charles, — that is it. It is the only explanation of what I have seen in you over and over again. I cannot understand it. How could it be so, if you really loved me and your children? How could you do what you know disgraces us, and makes us miserable?" " Think not, my dearest Amelia, that it is a want of love to you and our little ones. No ; I love you as I do my own soul, — I could die for you. I do verily believe that if a loaded pistol were pointed at me, and I knew that the first drop I tast' d would disf^harge its contents into my heart, it would be no restraint, in that state of mind, to my drinking. I should be so exclusively absorbed by my appetite, and the means of its gratification, as not to regard my own life more than I regard you and the children. Nothing but a physical impossibility, my dear Amelia, can keep me from drinking. I am convinced of this, and rejoice more than I can express that we are at length in these woods, so many miles from the temptation." ; " Well, Charles, I rejoice too. The sacrifice of friendship and society is nothing compared with the pleasure of feeling that you are free from the fetters which have so long held you. I can work. I will do all in* my power to help you cultivate the farm. We can do it, Charles, — we can do it We can be virtuous and happy. Yes, yes, we shall be,— know we shall be; and that reconciles me to the loss of fathev, mother, brother, sister, yea, all the dear associates of my youth;" and, as she said it, her eyes paid the tribute of tears to her conjugal devotion. " We shall not be safe, Amelia, if the serpent enters our tA MORE WORK FOR THE MAINE LAW. Eden. I blush to confess, what I know is true, that I cannot be trusted with the enemy in town. My nature has no security on this point. ' Lead me not into temptation' is a prayer which can never be answered with the destroyer near me. I am not proof against the temptation." " I know it, Charles, and I will raise the cry of murder against the man who introduces it. Making or vending the poison by the glass or by the pipe is just as fatal to us, and our children, as the assassin's dagger. Better kill ua out- right, than doom us to this disgraceful, protracted, tormenting death." Thus they whiled away the hours of their ride, till at length they reached the cottage, which had been built for their recep- tion by a faithful laborer, who had been sent on several months in advance of them. It was of logs, hewed only on the inside, with a large room for the family, and two contiguous ones for sleeping apartments. Above, also, was a provision for lodging laborers and servants, though their purpose was to live within themselves as much «as possible. Mrs. Durham had resolved to be her own servant, and her husband his own farmer, except so far as clearing the land was concerned ; which could be done by the job, without increasing their own family. It was a bard task for persons bred in the lap of luxury and fashion ; but the security of being in a town with- out alcohol more than compensated for the trouble. It was not till several years afte^ this that the enemy stole in upon them, to deface the fair form of virgin nature. Till then, all was prosperous. The population grew with unprecedented rapidity. "The period decreed by fate" had arrived now first from the world's foundation for man to "subdue and replenish" this uncultivated wild. Men seemed to drop down from the clouds, and every farm of fifty or a hun- 6* # 54 >r A maplbton; OB, 4 m hi ft 'Id ' ii:ii!, dred acres fonnd a family to cultivate it. Axe resounded to axe, crash to crash of falling trees, and horn to horn, calling the weary woodmen to their frugal meal. 0, woodman's axe ! in what family escutcheon on our wide continent hast thou not earned the first place 7 The soul of poetry is in the sheen of thy labor-polished face. Thou art the harbinger of civihzation, from Labrador to Mexico, and from the Atlan- tic to California. Relic of rural life ! thy voice falls more sweetly on my ear than lute or harp. Thou art the memento of bold adventure, of hardy endurance, of rural virtue, of coarse fare, and of new-country life, — the incipient stages of that process which has given birth to a great nation ! Hr--r The cottage of the Durhams stood by a clear lanning brook, which rippled and murmured among the stones as it passed, to lull to repose at night, and to form the inteflude and undertone of the bird-song of the morning. It afforded, also, the more substantial advantage of sweet water for the use of the family. As it w^'s seed-time when they arrived, Mrs. Durham neglected the^rrangement of her furniture till she had sowed and planted her garden, of which we have already taken some notice. An acre of land contiguous to the house had been cleared of stumps and roots for the pur- pose, and was now prepared to receive the vegetable seeding and planting; and alsc the bulbous roots, roses and pinks, and all the greenhouse treasures, with which Mrs. Durham had come so amply furnished. Tlie season was favorable, and the virgin soil soon shot forth its forms of life, beauty and useful- ness, to bless the eye and gladden the heart of its charming cultivator. Flowers appeared in a few weeks, nor did they foil till nipped by the frosts of approaching winter ; and then Mr. Durham's unpretending conservatory was prepared to perpetuate their bloom, in delightful contrast to the snow-clad, ...mv MOBB WORK FOR THE MAINE LAW. ftA' tempest-stirring winter. Her dahlias were rich and beautiful beyond anything she had ever seen. A fine field of growing wheat was already on the ground, to which Mr. Durham added com, oats, potatoes, and what- evjer else seemed necessary to the subsistence or comfort of his family. Much of the time of Mrs. Durham was devoted to the instruction of her children, home education being now more a matter of necessity than of choice. Her little Amelia — the eldest — had all the fine points of her mother's char- acter, added to the buoyancy and excellent temper of her father. Lydia, her sister, was more sedate, and, withal, apt to learn above children of her years. Little Charles, now only two years old, completed the group ; and a happier is rarely met with, apart from the single danger from which they could never and nowhere feel themselves absolutely safe. Lifting up his hands over his breakfast- table one morning, Mr. Durham exclaimed, " Thank God ! I have not a drop of the poison in my yeim.^y\:i:^.y^ '^:^xi^^'^:M^'^im?'^WM\ " Papa," said little Amtlia, in her simplicity, " what makes us so much happier here than we used to be in our old home? It is not so pretty, and I thought we should be homesick."*? "It is because our ways please God better, my child," replied her mother. " How does the Bible say it shall be with a man, when his ways please the Lord?" -,.^^-^-i.,.:-i:i T: -4r CHAPTER VI. .•5' .„i.v.^'-ai. ..;^^| THB OUTPOSTS OF THE ENEMY AT LENGTH APPEAR. •.\,*;fei^^^j^ Wherever God erects a house of prayer, ^W'-'j^^^^'i^ >i liif^'M The devil always builds a chapel there; '-.[t^iM 'Ifi^:^' ■ J., ■ i/i^s*,* |>v H' And 't will be found, upon examination, - '* ^^ y The latter has the larger congregation." — Dkfoe. Bt an accident, from which Charles escaped barely With life, three things opened upon him, — a little friend, a college course, and a Mapleton groggery. The first caused pleasure, the second bbor, and the third ruin. Such are |)ie ingredients 6 '/ • ?■ «l MAPLETON; OR, : "} I h n n of which the o^p of life is compounded, — pleaaure, labor, ruin. The circumstances which led to the accident we will detail in his own words ; as who knows better than one'is self his boyhood's experiences? " As to myself," he says, "I must confess to a foolish feeling of mortification, that my mother's exertions and my father's sermon-reading gavo our family a sort of clerical reputatiol in town. Perhaps the secret of it might be, in part, the incongruity of my father's previous habits with his present position. True, his Mapleton reputation was untarnished, and his affairs prosperous ; but my mother and I knew we were building on a volcano. The smothered embers of his former vice needed only the contact of a groggery to flame up for the ruin of his family, and make him in the same degree odious as he now enjoyed honor as a virtuous and useful citizen. The experiment of new-country farming, so far, succeeded beyond our hopes. We harvested fifty acres of wheat the summer after our arrival, as the fruits of a former seeding ; and we got in one hundred acres the same autumn. The price of wheat was high, and our in- come far exceeded our expenses. Our* neighbor Durham did as well accordingly, but had not an equal amount of land or labor. - • " My heart bleeds at the pangs of fear witix which my poor mother was afllicted, from her sense of the danger to which prosperity would expose my father. She l.new that the more easy his circumstances, the more likely he would be '^ to drink, in case any strong temptation came in bis way. Our very success seemed to her a lure to destruction. I was her eldest child, and the only person in town,' 'exce])t Mrs. ^ Durham^ to whom she intrusted her thoughts. Witli tears in her eyes, akfi said, ' Charles, my son, we must not flatter HOBB WORE FOB THE MAINE LAW. oorselyes ; we have no security. Next year, or even next month, may plunge us into the abyss. There is no hope that this wicked traffic, protected as it is by law, and licensed by the state, will not find its way into a town becoming thus populous and wealthy. We are building over a magazine of powder, and men are encouraged by legislation to set it on fire and blow us all to ruin. There is more safety in a battle- field. Yes, Charles ; much as I hate war, I should feel more secure if we were all soldiers drawn up in Hop of battle than with this alcoholic traffic among us.' " 'Mother,' I replied, *is your piety no security?' " ' Yes, my son; if it is sincere, it may support me under this trial of trials ; but it has no power over your father's infirmity. ■w.bji^m:^^M^ry;f-,m^v.':!ftrn^.^^^ -^li:- .■m-^n* ^, , " * What ! is there nothing we can do to secure nim? Can we not prevent the introduction of the traffic, by timely remonstrance?' , ,;. , ^ > ,,."'Thi8 is more than I expect, — an example witbout a precedent in our state. Here is an open field, where money may be made by selling intoxicating drinks ; and somebody's cupidity must, sooner or later, discover and supply the market.' ., ,-, i:f. :: ,:^,; ^, ,,. .^k.^z:^, .,;,..' „;. , ■,. . . ,.; " * But perhaps father has seen the evil of drinking so much as to resist the temptation.' ,• ' rJ: ' * > . - -^ :«,. . . " ' Had you seen what I have, my son, you would not think so. There are tens of thousands, who have as many induce- ments to temperance as he has, ruining their families by drinking. Besides, he has never yet been exposed to a strong temptation, when he did not fall. He thinks he will not, before-hand, but he always does. There is no hope, with the traffic among us.' ,4 " * What can be done ? Must we stand still and perirfi? ' iIaplbton; or, t ^i^^lyti'Si. 4 /i ' " ' My advice is that you leave soon for college. You are now fitted for an advanced standing. You may thus turn our present prosperity to the advantage of completing your education, before adversity comes to defeat the hope of your life. Better that our surplus means should go so, than to be on hand to be wasted by and by.' " I did not, at the time, realize our danger to the same extent that my mother did. I only thought &ther had better let jfreachi^g alone, and take more 'to practice. I agreed with our neighbor Rol«on, that the religion of nature was enough. I could not see why there should be so much e£fort to cultivate a plant that grows spontaneously. At all events, I had so much apprehension in reference to my father's habits, that I felt a decided repugnance to his having any very conspicuous share in the religious worship of our town. I suppose it was foolish of me, but I could not help it as I then felt. .- .^;,.c- ■•'■.%:..: :v v ;'x^v., ; __ ... -^.^--im^^'^''''':-'^^^^^^^^ '' While things were thus sitaated, it happened, on a quiet Sabbath mornitig, that I was awakened at dawn by the robins and blue-bii*ds warbling their matin song in the pendent branches around our house. I listened for a time in a dreamy state between sleeping and waking. My mind was the home of beauty. I lived over a paradisiacal life. I thought of the Fauns, and Naiads, and Nymphs, with which a Grecian imagination had peopled earth and ocean. Passing droves of deer, just escaped from their mossy couches, flitted before my view. Instead of robins and blue-birds alone, I fancied that all the birds of song, in tho glory of their variegated plumage, were serenading me ; and a dreamy conceit invested them with intelligence, as if happy spirits from a higher world were filling my soul with their more heavenly beauty and melody. I shouted in an ecstasy of delight, and the effort MORS WORK lOR TUB MAINS LAW. V>^* roused mo to consciousness. I arose and looked out of the bay-window, to survey the lake scenery. It had put on more • than its usual charms. It reposed before me sublimely calm, as if conscious of its own dignity. ' The East had decked herself in orient pearl and gold.' Sublime and beautiful as the morning is in every other clime, it has here unusual elements of loveliness. Whether from the nature of the exhalations, the conflict of aerial currents, or other causes, it is a fact of general observation, that the solar rays, as they approximate the horizontal plane, both in rising and setting, produce, in this our new home, extraordinary combinations of beauty. Their reflection from the lake, on this occasion, lent enchantment to my mind. Painted clouds and over- hanging forests, reflected from the quiet water, whoso smooth surface, here and there variegated with gentle ripples from light flaws of air, like etchings on polished steel, altogether produced a scene of loveliness to attract and entrance minds far less susceptible than my own. How touching, Vow truthful, how eloquent, are nature's appeals to the sense* of man ! Who, that should once inhale the pure vapors of such a morning, could breathe again the infected haunts of riot and dissipation l Who can turn away from the pure foun- tains of joy and blessedness, which God has opened in this sweet land, to those stimulating potions from which vico derives its maddening inspiration ? \ " ' i " My heart overflowed with the delightful associations of such a morning. My dream was reality. Annals did, indeed, nestle in the rosy clouds on which I was gazing. Tho iEolian breezes whispered in my ear notes from their lyres. In the height of this ecstatic feeling the bark of our dog, 'Watch,' broke upon my ear. 'Watch never barks like this,' said I to myself, 'when a deer is not in pursuit. Watch ~T»m- m "^ ■■**'. •^'-; T'^vS'.-- i-v^ .'^v/ "t^^s^-*'^ y. i."a?i*-# ■i'-^ 66 MAFLBTON; OB, will have him, for he never gives over.' Watch waa a Bu- cephalus among dogs, and equally deserving with that famed steed of immortality. His spotted coat and noble form had a charm to my eye which those will appreciate who know what it is to love a dog. His bark was shrill as a silver trumpet, clear and distinct as a vesper-bell, and was never heard with- out touching my soul with fire to engage with him in his favorite pursuit of the bounding deer. In an instant, I passed from angelic communion to the fellowship of brutcf and the furor of the chase. I bounded from my room li^lia an arrow, and ran to a cove a mile east of my father's, where I stood listening to the baying of a hundred dogs, who had by this time joined the pursuit. t f '■;' ;;^,r* Yelliid on the "view the opening pack, — Bock, glen and cavern, paid them back; To many a mingled sound at once The awakened forest gave response.' f'<^,^:--!Ai C^fe " The deer, as usual, sought the lake, to escape the dogs by swimming. Canaudeh, my nocturnal acquaintance, met him at the pass (as a certain part of a hunting-ground is called), where he snapped his rifle, missed fire, and away flew the bucK like a thing of air. ^ "I stood for a moment, when the noble denizen of the forest, with great branching horns, swept past me and plunged into the lake. I sprang to the beach, crying out, at the top of my voice, ' A deer, a deer ! ' Canaudeh soon appeared, and, taking me into his canoe, we renewed the chase on the lake. I reclined in the bow with withe in hand, as tbe instrument to take the deer with was called. It was mad 3 f. a long, tough sapling, trimmed of all its branches excep; the two principal ones, which were twisted together at th( ends so as to form a loop of sufficient capacity to go over the \ ! . , '^iyftti ., #1 *. MOBS WOBK FOB THX MAU^TS LAW. head of the animal, and hold him tight; being fsustened round his neck. We soon came up with the poor deer, whose pow- erful sinews propelled him with such force that nearly half his body was driven above the surface of the water, the surf rolling from him either way, his mouth open, his tongue pro- truding, his saliva foaming, and hii^ desperation so great that I fancied he became suddenly transmuted into a warlike Turk, with his sabre in hand, who was in the act of striking me dead oti the spot. ! dying, dying, what is dying 7 Here my thoughts tapered off to nothing, like the expiring vibra- tions of a smitten bell, and I remembered no more." The effervescing soul had sunk to rest. The over-strained harp-strings had snapped, and gave no further vibration. The instant that Charles put his withe over the head of the deer, the poor animal uttered a plaintive bleat, like a death- knell, and, driven to desperation, turned, and brought the sharp hoof of his fore-foot down upon the boy, with such force as to lay his skull bare, and knock him senselet::? to the bottom of the canoe. With tender solicitude, Canaudeh now betook himself to the care of his unconscious charge. He folded him in his arms with the tenderness of a mother, blew in his mouth, wet his temples ; but all to no purpose. Charles lay pale and flaccid in his bosom. The savage had by this time experienced much kindness from the Douglasses ; and for Charles, in particular, he seemed to have h special liking. Failing in all his efforts, he paddled his canoe to the shore ; and there he was met by a beautiful little girl, who, from the distance, bad gazed upon the scene with rapt attention. As soon as she saw Charles lying n the canoe, as if dead, she exclaimed, with a sweet voice, " 0, father, father ! do come I do, do, ^.oV^ at the same time running back into the thicket, from whioh, alter a short time, she returned, leading h«r r:i ^^4 68 MAPL£IOK; 0B| father by the hand. Mr. Harcourt — for such was the name of this gentleman — was equally moved with his little daughter. Having used upon the boy all his means of restoration, he took him to his own house, which was near, assisted by the Indian, and despatched a messenger for medical aid Mean- while, he put Charles into a warm bath, and then transferred him to his bed ; and, after applying pungent stimulants to his person, the signs of animation began to appear. At the instant the boy opened his eyes, his father and mother entered the room, and, seeing tlieu., he said, "Father, where am 17'' '* You are here, in the house of this good friend, my son," said his father, with an emotion of surprise .!; finding him alive, as their woi-st fears had been excited. ,. " Where have I been?" said Charles. ,u ;;;.,>).< " You can answer that question better than I^** replied hla father. " You have not been with us, or this accident would not have happened." f r^>f>^ ^ " 0, I remember," said Charles. "Where is Canau- deh'i" ^. The old savage uttered guttural sounds, which seemed to say how glad he was to see him alive. "And the deer,— where is the deer?" inquired Chaiiifl. *' Alas, my son ! " said Mrs. Douglass, " we have nothing of the deer but this wound on your head." .^,- ifi "Wound on my head?" said Charles, putting up his hand, when he found, for the first time, that his hes^ ««« bandaged, and had been bleeding. " Aad \3m in Su«tibK|^ too," he redded, thoughtfully*-^^^— ^^^-^ --- "Yes, this is Sunday," said his mother; ' and the chase if th^I^t place where I should.haye looked for >aj Charles." :'-;/;Uv< t MORS WOBK FOR imS MADTE LAW. 69 '^** I had thought as mnch myself/' he said. eTidontly ham- bled at this abuse of a day which he had been religio^isly trained to observe. "Yes, my son," said his mother; "and we had thought your death must be added to the hst of Sabbath-day aeoi« dents. We cannot be too thankful that our fears are not realized." ; Father, mother and son, were all much affected. 'f "0, how happy we all are, Charles, that you have come back from heaven ! Did you see my blessed mother there ?"4 said little Sarah, with genuine childish simplicity. ^. This was the first view Charles had of her; and he was so moved by her angelic sweetness and beauty, that, in his oon-:( fusion, he fancied her, fov a moment, a spuit from a highetf'f world. *'^!'' y^'W'i^, ^' " Your mother is in heaven, my sweet girl? " hi said, not comprehending her meaning. vM'^^mm^i^m'''' ^;''. ^ "Yes; my blessed mother W9nt to heaven xr. -e than a year ago ; and I want some one to come ii cm there, to bring me a kiss." ■^;i:'*s?&?4^'ls^K z^- '^ "Dear child," said Charles, "I am not fit to go to heaven. I am a sinner. How could I go to heaven, to bring you a kiss 1 " ■ ^^ > ^^*^''- ' ** "Sarah, my love," said Mr. Harcourt, "do not trouble him." .•■., .jv.i...:-:. .->f^^.i;*....ii.^-«*-. "No trouble at all, sir," said Charles, holding her hand gently in his. Watch now drew near the bed, with ears drooping, as if partaking in the general affliction. Cbarles patted him on tho head, and he shook his tail with so mnch force as to sway h!S body to and fro, thus expressing, as well as ho oould, how hfcfp^ he was that mat^jers were no woiso.^,,^^ ^.^^^^^ mmw n MAPLETON: OB. The medical gentleman now arrived, and made such pre- scriptions as the nature of the case seemed to demand. The name of this gentleman was Holliston, a man trained to two professions, the medical and clerical, the latter of which he had exercised over one of the largest New England congre- gations, till his voice failed, when he resumed again the prac- tice of medicine. He had lately arrived in town, in company with his children, who had found it for their interest to emi- grate. He hoped to make himself still useful among a peo- ple moie needing, though less ahle to compensate, his ser- vices. His dignified person and fine countenance were an index of the noble sentiments which had actuated him through life. He took his leave, with an engagement to meet at dinner, the next day, some of his former acquaintances, whom Mr. Harcourt was expecting in town. Indeed, this gentle- man had long known the doctor, and they had come to town in company ; which accounts for his being called, rather than physicians who had been longer established. Great preparations were going on in the family for this dinner. John, the servant, was collecting from earth, air and water, whatever might minister to appetite or to pleas- ure. Mr. Harcourt was bred a free liver, and had trans- ferred to the new country habits and means of luxury unknown to most of its inhabitants. Dinner was the great event of the day, towards which the skill and resources of the house flowed, without stint or measure. He never left his table without swallowing his bottle of claret, with such occa- sional additions of brandy, Scotch whiskey, or other wines, ; f ^during the day and evening, as appetite seemed to demand. Still, Mr. Harcourt was never intoxicated, as that cerm is generally understood. He abhorred the thing mok'e than gioet iQen. He thought it l)§9Stly and degrading, Mrs. \% MOBB WORK FOR THB MAINB LAW. n ^ -m Douglass, mistrusting the habits of the &mily, took measures to keep her husband away by sta/ing away herself, intrust^ ing Charles to the care of little Sarah's nurse till he should be able to come home. Mr. HoUiston came early the next day to look after his patient, in whom he seemed to take a peculiar interest. " My lad," said he, " it is time you were looking out for something besides deer and foxes. Have you studied Latin yet?" i. « A little," replied Charles. i * And Greek?" *'Yes, Greek too." *' And mathematics ? " ' My mother, sir, thinks me prepared tO enter college." '"Ay, ay; your mother, eh? what does she know about it?" ^** She is a classical scholar, sir, and has assisted me in my studies." " Quite unusual, — quite, quite. Where was your mother brought up?"? "^^'^"^ ^l, " In New England, sir. Her father was many yeajp the clergyman of Paucatuck parish, who had ^ great desire for a' son, to try his peculiar notions of education upon ; but, disap-' pointed in this, he experimented with my mother, giving her an education equal, I judge, to an ordinary college course." *' Old Pastor Rogers, — was that his name ? " ' "Yes, — Lebbeus Rogers." ^ "In Paucatuck parish. Yes, yes; I knew him well. Eccentric, original, but a right-down good man, and gentle- man of the old school. Was your mother Pastor Rogers* daughter, eh?" . C "Yes,Bir; his only child," ?« ;■ '^' T "Well, my lad, you must step into the place of your imm H MAPurroN; ob« grand&iher's hoped-for son, and do his work to another genn eration. What is there to prevent your going to college thi» autumn 7" * " I cannot say, sir, whether my father will feel himself able to sustain the burden." " Never mind that. I can put you on a foundation. I 'd rather pay all the bills than not have old Pastor Rogers' son CNlucated. Diddington College has a foundation for sucli. smart lads as you, of which I am a trustee. We'll see; we '11 see. Diddington is just the place for you. How is your head, my boy?" " It is much relieved." ■ ''Sleep well?" •■■■-/* l^^'^'- - -.--, V':'"*^- "Pretty well. Started some, and had frightful dreami, the first of the night, but got quiet before morning." ^ " All that is quite natural ; quite, — very." Physician and patient were now interrupted by 'the entrance of Mr. Harcourt| accompan'ed by Skampton and Marldon. " Gjjad to meet you in the new country, at last," said Marldon to his holt; "you have had a long siege in getting here." 1 "Yes, confounded long," said Hatcourt. "Youlawyers^ bailiflfe, creditors, the de '11 and all, had liked to detain me forever ; but, thank my stars, I escaped at last with a whola| skin." "'All's well that ends well,'" said Marldon. "The large deduction wrung out of your creditors ought to satisfy. you Have you built yet ? " " No, not done. The work is going on. We have pitched into this cabin the mean while, for the want of a better." " A competence is left you, eh ? " said Marldon, with a -v./,i. mv- MOBB WORK FOR THE BfAINB LAW. T8 'V bed h a chuckle at his own skill in fleecing creditors and enriching client ''Nothing to complain of," said Harcouit. "It's my treat, I confess. John, bring on that old hock," he added, calling to his man. " A drop from my grarlfatb^r's cellar is as good to sharpen appetite as to clear iiu throat after dinner." '' From your grandfather's cellar, and not in your assets ? " added the lawyer, with another chuckle. " Yes ; better be hung than lose one's wine. Here, John, extract that cork. That 's right, man. No^v for a glass of this blessed old Rhenish, which is twenty-flvo years older than any man in the company," said Harcouit, holding up the bottle, and pouring the imprisoned enemy into a glass, all sparkling and flaming with death. They drauk, and offered the cup to the doctor. "I am a teetotaller, gentlemen," said the doctor; "don't ask me to drink. I do not drink, on principle." ^j "I never drink, on inclination^^ said Skampton; "I'm none of your new-fangled principle men, who are wiser than the Son of God himself, who bofch made wine and treated his friends with it." ). ■;iV:--' , rii:y'•^3&'-#^%rc# "What! you not drink, Mr. Skampton," ;:iid Harcourt, " and make your thousands out of drinking / ' * "And loses his thousands, too, out of uiinking," said Marldon. " Is it true, my friend, that a drunken crew have sunk a ship for you among the whales of Kamtschatka? " "They have sunk my ship, but not my funds. I was insured." ? " The whole amount 7 " said Marldon. " More than I should have got in these times of light car- goes and small pay." "^i^: 74 MAPLSTOIT; OB, "Were the dninkards who went down insured 1 '' in']i"jrcd Harcourt, laughing. " That is another thing," replied Mr. HoUiston. " The' insurance ofiBces cannot restore the poor fellows their lost life. They cannot repair the damage to widows and or- phans." "The disasters of the sea are unavoidable," said Skamp- ton. " Those of rum are greater," rejoined the doctor. "I^hope you do not blame ship-owners, because sailors will get drunk," said Skampton. " I do blame them for furnishing the means," said the doctor. "It is as sure death to them as weapons in the hands of madmen. We have no right to put the cup to our neighbor's lip. Ship-owners sink their own property, and the sailors, too, by furnishing them strong drink." '«# " Not their own property, if they are insured," said Marldon. ■; " Profits must be charged on what is saved, to cover the losS; where there is no insurance," said Harcourt. " 1^0 doubt losses raise the price of the article lost, when they are very heavy," said Skampton. " The loss must fall somewhere," said Mr. Holliston. " Besides, i. is not a simple question of loss and gain. Ship- owners are morally bound to watch over the life and health of the sailors they employ ; and they cannot do it where intoxicating drinks are put into their hands. They will drink, if we give them the means ; and we are bound, in con- science and in humanity, not to do it. We are accessory to their death, by doing it." * ' That 's perfectly preposterous ! ' ' said Skampton. ' ' Must 4 "\ MORE WORK FOR THE MAINE LAW. 75 ships be sailed ^thout ropes, beoause a crazy sailor, now and then, hangs himself ? " '' Ropes do not make sailors crazy, but alcohol does," said Mr. Holliston. "Bopes do not create an appetite for hang- ing ; but alcohol creates an appetite which is ungovernable, and which, when indulged, sinks ships, drowns sailors, bums houses, raises mobs, multiplies crime, and produces more plagues than escaped from Pandora's box. How can you, then, with the knowledge of these facts, do anything to pro- voke or gratify such an appetite, without involving yourself in the guilt of wholesale murder 7 " "This old doctor is rowing against wind and tide," whis- pered Marldon to his host, as they discussed a bottle of wine together. " Skampton 's death upon teetotalism." "A great benefactor, too! " said Harcourt, with a shrug of his shoulders. g.,^- " He knows how to get, as well as give ; and to give, too, where it will bring a dividend in reputation, if not in money," said Marldon. " That 's it, that 's it ! " said Harcourt ; " I 've always said charity is keen for dividends. She is a great sharper, the painted old jade ! " it a, "Thank God, doctor, my conscience is not in your keep- ing!" said Mr. Skampton, at the same time jumping up, pnd beginning to pace the floor. '^.^.^.^'m ....':■' ^;,i) /.■' Dinner w'as now announced, and served with all the sump- tuousness of bankrupt opulence. They sat an hour over their fruits and wines, some partaking of one, and others of both, till Bacchus reigned supreme with his votaries. In the Qiidst of the good cheer, Skampton was waited on by his land factor, a young man of a searching, sinister aspect, who im the leader of a singular gang in town, that went lUr^eic tho 76 MAPLBTON; OB, name of money Jiggen. His name was Samnel Oilfort, and he was an alcoholic necromancer. His father was so hefore him, but never turned his peculiar powers to any worldly advantage, having always lived in extreme po^i^erty; whereas the son was a in an ever on the alert for the main chance, looking out for something to turn up which would raise him in the world. His vigilance in this respect had brought him into contact with the .great land-holder, while his shrewdness had commended him to Skampton as a suitable instrument to be used. " Draw up, Gilfort, draw up," said Harcourt, " and take a glass of this old Madeira. It 's capital ; 't will whet your fitculties in this business of land-hunting." Gilfort gladly obeyed the summons, and swallowed glass after glass, till lull half a bottle of the infernal nectar was leaping and dancing among his veins and arteries. His eye dilated ; he was collected in mind ; his perceptive powers were whetted to theii Iceenest edge. Not a trace of ordinary intox- ication appeared in hira, but he had more the aspect of a ma*> who felt the spell of inspiration, and the afflatus of a seer. He was one of those on whom alcohol acts as the pharmacia of the ancients, or those drugs used as charms, love-pdtions, or to produce tht; sibylline frenzy by which events were fore- told, and a sublimated state of the faculties was produced. "Well, Gilfort," said Skampton, "how goes it? Have you located?" " Tes, I foresee a grand turn-up from the hit I have made. The warrants marked A, B, C, D. I have located round the Falls, — a water-power to turn any quantity of machinery, and which is sure to turn up a great city as time is to unroll his scroll. A hundred acre lot, including the Falls, is already taken up, and hm some bdiaU betterments onH; but I have Vp'.^ MOBB WORK FOB THB MAINE LAW. 7T bargained for it at a moderate advance, on condition of your approval. The rest all comes at government price, though worth at this moment a thousand times its cost. We shall thus have, in a body around the Falls, six hundred acres, including a water-power which cannot fail to give birth to a city. But, should that fail, — which is impossible, or I am no prophet, — we have as good land for farming as can be got, besides the water-fall. All agree it 's a magnificent pur- chase." ' *r "Good! A bravo fellow! Keen, real keen, Gilfort, — we '11 make a speck, I think. At any rate, our chance is between well and a windfall." " It '11 prove the stepping-stone, I trust, to a long-cherished hope of doing somewhat for this crazy world," said Gilfort, with an eye dilating with hope, and a mind laboring with great ideas, such as they were, produced by the blending of the alcoholic current with a peculiar constitutional necromancy. "Crazy! crazy!" said Harcourt to Marldon, in an under- tone. " He transfers his own craziness to the rest of man- kind. He 'a mad as a March hare ! " " Yes, he believes the earth is full of ingots of gold, I learn,.buried tliere by the,dead generations," said Marldon. " He 's a great digger ; but he '11 find a heavier chest in his transactions with Skampton, I guess, than any that the earth contains." ,^ ,., ,,^,. . .." H» takes a share, then 7 " £!^ "Yes, a quarter; and if his purchase turns out what it seems, it '11 bring him thousands. Always in luck," added Marldon, addressing Skampton. "Have you secured the Gore lot, yet7" ^ ; ;^. ^;f^'»i. ^ I " It is secured, sir, and the building is contracted for," replied Skampton. " It 's a first-rate stand." ^ 7* -s^y- 73 lUPLBTON; 0B| " Stend for what ? " inquired Charles, tonung on hif bo&, with an anxious, excited look. "A tavem-Btu lid, ohild," replied Skampton; ''what else d'jethinkl" " 0, Qod, ha\ mercy on us ! " exclaimed Charles, invol- untarilj. " Do you feel \ orse, my son ? " said the doctor, not com- prehending what had been said. * ><■ " Not in body' replied Charles. " In mind, thou 7 " inqui^^id the kind physician. "To be hone t, I have a horror of a groggery in our quiet town," rej : od the boy. "And so have I," said the physician. "We can't have one, — we must not have one." " You do mc ^Mong, my lad, to speak thus of my benevo- lent exertions in behalf of strangers passing through your town. Is a travt llcr's home a groggery?" said Skampton^ with aggrieved Hh lings at the imputation. ' "What are ti.'ivcllers' homes, as a general thing, but grog- geries ? " said ]\li . Holliston. " The boy did right to call it by tbe name it di , erves. Will you obligate yourself not to sell intoxicating d links on the Qoig lot ? " " I never sell them," said Skampton. "Well, will yd prevent their sale by the terms of your lease?" " I shall impose no restrictions. I shall leave my tenant to consult his own interest. Would you have me prescribe beef-steak 7 " " That 's right ! " said Marldon ; " I 'd be bound by none of these new measures. If people make fools of themselves, must you? Keeping ram, or beef-steak, compels nobody ■•%v' !:■: -lU--: i\ MOBB WORK FOR THB MAIKB LAW. 79 to buy. And those who wish to boy will have it, whether yoa keep it, or not. That 's my logic." " The more they buy, the jollier, as saith an old ballad," said Harcourt, beginning to sing, — " Bee ! the rain soaks to the skin ; Make U rain as well within. > Wine, my boy ! we '11 sing and laagh ; All night revel, rant and quaff, — mi the mom, stealing behind ns, « At the table sleep will find us." ''Drinking will oiviliie these Mapleton dolts. From drunken old Noah's day to this time, wine has been the inspiration of generous souls." Remonstrance was vain, and Mr. HoUiston dropped the subject. Indeed, his being found in such society was owing to his acquaintance with these gentlemen when they were not what they had now become, and in a new country he was naturally attracted to them by the lack of society and the ties of recollection. As for Skampton, a morbid con- servatism, which clingd to whatever is old and abhors what- ever is new, united to an overweening desire for money, with which to buy influence and reputation, was the rent from Which branched ofif most of the evils of his character. Poor Charles had no more rest. The wounds of his mind were deeper and more dangerous than those of his body. His in agination revelled amid scenes of domestic madness and murder. And when the facts were imparted to his mother, she was still more agobized. The Gore lot w>>3 the centre of attraction to the toyfn, and they had everything to apprehend from its being made the seat of a traffic in alcohol. Their place of worship joined it ; and now, to have it a Satan's seat, was too abhorre&t, — too alarming to their domestic fears. 80 MAPUeiON ; OB, The few dayp that Charles ataid in the Harcourt family had one charm which never faded from his mind, and that was his acquaintance with little Sarah. It was the fairy dream of a desolate night. To his ear tho voice of Sarah was sweeter than lute or harp, and her form seemed too sylph-like and ethereal for a land of ruggec' realities. He was surprised, also, at the order and elegance which reigned around. The costly carpets, rich drapery, gorgeous furni- ture 'and well-appointed domestics, — relics of faded splendor, — contrasted strangely wilh the wild surroundings of new- country life. Mr. Harcourt he saw not af^er the day of this convivial dinner ; but Sarah was always present, watching him like a guardian angel and amusing him with her guitar. On one occasion she sang, with great pathos, a little piece taught her by her governess, which perfectly entranced him ^ 1 1 Ckntle^other, what is here .^ Now my aching heart to cheer ? Since you left me, all is sad, — What can ever make me glad ? ^^.^ • 'i!Ai:^i>- Let the blue-bird sing his lay; Let the robin greet the day With his notes so pure and clear , Can / sing, a lone one here ? On the cheek of me, your child, Singing now my strain so wild. May I feel thy gentle kiss, -=' -^ ■ Foretaste of serener blisa ! ■ ■..... .'ik p^'H ' «fi:/t:^^K. >-■ *^'^ • :X::i,^ n {#; :■■;■ ■*,r;j|is«y . ,<,'.. ■^. *j# ^% '\", ;^l^ l.%J*- ■r» One sweet word from thee aboy«, , From the land of perffect love,'^""^" Sweeter fiir to me would be '^f Than earth's softest melody -#''; 4 '^: ,ir ■ fV- ■ ., .^ij;. MOBB WORE FOB THE MAINE ^W^ / ''' ^s^^} Now I shed a barniiig uear. That no voice from thee . aear ; Oft I call, and call again. But the stillness gives me pub. Why not spe^k, my mother miki ? Lov'si thou ii6i thine orphan child ? Have my woes no power to touch Thee, who loved m*' once so much J^ .».^" " Sarah, jou sing like an angel,'' said Charles, in a, u-mt^ port. '^ Did you ever hea^ the apgels sing 7 " she inqp»$i^ iffii^ great simplicity. - '■■ ^ *' ?Ao, Sarah ; but I 'm sure tbeir music cannot be sn^^^lv thim yours." . ^ .. . " What ! did you hear no music in heaven '? " she inquired, still possessed of the idea that, as he seemed like her dead mother, he must have been in heaven. Here the govemcris interposed, and before the conversation could be resumtMi \ vuariea w: is ruuiuvtju lu Ills litiuer b uou»e. ■•* . ^ .■- 'W ■ ■-■■ ' '1' . 'ja;.--. '•■'}• s V-. ' '■'■_ '; . ',-■ ■•"*?f--' .*:'>' - -■ • '.p** 1 ■S ■K'i-^.i-':f : ;.!»*■•■■■.■ - •!; -^ ::": .-.•;.;»,■>,,;' , 1 ,'-■ ^v'r. ^ ■- ' :.>./;-;*' ,jj"'- ■:' --• ^-s* ■ :^?';'--. -"''■ " •■ •;i:i?;, ,r..r f; : -^ •■.= 1 . ^■%-^'%--- - CHAPTER VII. ■-m • -'■.-> '^A'.-;^ 1 .; ifcB ENEMY ENTERS AT LAST. ■ •4 ,- * p ^" '■*" . 1 ** Every inordinate cup is unblessed, and the ingredient is a — devil." Shaksfdark. > " And when, alas * our brfJns are gone, 4,^ What nobler substitute than wine ?" — Btron. A,v%J '. "As soon as Charles was able, Mr. Holliston took him home, andThad an interview with his parents on the subject of his ' ''h As 1?r- MAPLBTON ; OR, entering college. He engaged his tuition out of the funds of which he waa a trustee, and more, if necessary; but Mr. and Mrs. Douglass were unwilling that he should depend upon charity. Still, as it would be a matter of convenience to have an advance of his tuition fees till they should find it convenient to refund the amount, they accepted it. They found occasion for all their funds in subduing a new farm, and hope, that when that crisis was passed, they would be easier in their circumstances. The ensuing October was fixed upon for Charles to leave, the interval being devoted to preparation. His own thoughts now took a more serious turn, and he began to have earnest views of life. He felt for himself, a creature of impulse as he was, and liable above most to temptation ; he felt for his mother ; and they both felt for his father, as none but the friends of an unfortunate victim of intemperance know how to feel. Days and weeks together, before Charles was old enough to realize their condition, Mrs. Douglass had spent in constant apprehension for her own life and that of her children. The effect of alcobol upon her husband was not stupor and imbe- cility, but madness of the most terrific kind, accompanied by un- wonted muscular power. It was only after he was exhausted by over-exertion that he became weak and unconscious. Hence, the question of his returning to his cups was one of life or death to the whole household. Even his years of abstinence were years of constant appriehension. If he was delayed beyond the expected time, or was out late at night, Mrs. Douglass, and Charles, when he was old enough to realize the danger, would sit watching and sleepless, to secure them- selves and the other children against a murderous assault, in case of his returning intoxicated. The torments of such a family God only knows. 0, could the dealer in intoxicating \ f I • a MORE WORX FOR THE MAINE LAW. 88 Oi \ drinks realiise what tbej suffer, his gains would bum on his conscience like the fire of the pit ! Their security for the few previous yepis was owing to Mr. Douglass' remove from the poison. He was not a man to go far out of his way to get it, especially after his attack of delirium tremens ; but when it fell in his way he invariably lost the command of himself The fact that a groggery was now building in town, and soon to bo opened, filled them with alarm. Charles remonstrated against leaving home at a time of such peril ; but his mother insisted that :it was ibe only time to complete his education, and that the family would be quite as safe without as with him. Their farm-laborers would have to be called in on an emer- gency, as neither Charles nor any of the family could control the paroxysms of violence to which Mr, Douglass was subject when he was intoxicated. It would simply cost them the sacrifice of Charles' society, to which they must, in any event, sooner or Liter submit. These considerations produced on all rides a general acquiescence in the immediate separation. Still, Oharles' sensibility on the occasion was intense. His was a nature to feel keenly what it felt at all. But it proved a mental disturbance, like the evening shades distilling dew, to overspread his character with a genial influence. It led him to prayer, in his own behalf and that of his family. It made him watchfal of himself, tender to his paren*, brothers and bisters, and altogether earnest to fulfil the hopes which centred in him. Ti-r '•■,.,■,- -.^-..-r-Hf^i^-' ■ -^i^- x>-i*''.<^ --^^^vv:, He was much in the society of Mr. Littlefield, and received from that good man instruction which he deemed of the utmost value to his subsequent career. " I began now to think of God in good earnest," hFsays, in a paper now before us ; "I never conceived Him so near before. My thoughts of Him increased with the intensity of my emotions, ending in ^S- i 11 T 84 MAFLBTON; OR. oondemnation at the contrast of mj character to His. I could find no peace till I had a sense of pardoning mercy and aion- ing love. I owed mnch to that good man, Mr. Littlefield. He taug^:t me the freeness and fulness of divine mercy, in a way to make me take hold on them. He showed me how unspeakably willing God is to pardon sinners on a simple act of faith in Christ ; how unnecessary it is to torture one's self '^^ with a sense of guilt, as if that would make amends or give "^ to God a ransom ; and, by the clearness of the views which he presented of the finished redemption which already exists ^ ^ for us in Christ, I was filled with all joy and peace in believ- ' ing. Argument upon argument, in confiriaation of God's love to me, now flowed in upon my mind, like a s<:eet stream 'of heavenly light, from eyery page of dime revelation, from all the objects of nature, from the whole course of Providence, filling me with the sweetness of a delightful surprise. I wept for joy. I now had repose of mind in reference to father, mother, brothers, sisters, and all my interests ; assured that, in the final consummation of things. He would bestow upon us all a portion with which we should see infinite reasons to be satisfied. I saw, I felt, thac God's policy is to rear the bent characters by the severest trials, and to punish the worst by the very greatness of their prosperity : ' The prosperity of fools destrtys them.' " ^ ^ - , October at length came, and Charles launched his bark upon the open sea of life. Tears were shed on all sides, but they were tears radiant with hope. The Uiother committed her son to the voyage of life with vows and prayers which wore the guarantee of his safety. The father poured forth his stricken heart into the bosom of ms son, and gave him a blessing, with the gloomy foreboding that it might never return upon his own head. Alas! the feelings of such a > \ T „i^:. MOKB WOSK FOB THS MAINS LAW. 85 fiither, who can imagine? The children felt the gloom of this first breach in their circle, and mingled their desires 'with those of father and mother, that dear Charles might be prosperous and happy. Even Watch seemed to whine with a melancholy sympathy on the occasion, and retired to his konnel in sullen despondency. The laborers on the form feli that the animating soul of their circle was gone* And, as Charles himself whiiTcd through the yielding air, amid the clatter and rough breathing of the flying locomotive, sur- rouDied by living masses with whom he had no sympathy, he found his only consolation in looking up, and committing his ways to that beneficent Power who has an eye to pity and a hand to save. "- '^ ^* Three months after Charles left were the Christmas holi- days, when the Mapleton groggery was dedicated to Bacchus ; when all the town, not too young, nor too old, nor too pious, nor too stringent in their temperance views, participated in the maddening ceremony, and the drinking became deep and universal. Old as he was, Jollops was present, with his two sons, all three of whom were early luid away dead drunk ; and the number disposed of in like manner went on increasing till the break of day. The pride of character and respect for the presence of ladies which, in more refined communities, hold gentlemen under restrain'^, had little influence among the rude and uncouth Mapletoniaas. The young men became int3nsely heated and furiously pugnacious from strong drink, insomuch that at twelve of the night a rivalship for position among the ladies involved them in a regular set-to, from which they barely escaped with life. A more horrible spectacle of dis- figured features and bruised limbs, covered with gory clots of blood, can hardly be conceived. ^; *m:nm^.^mmm Thomas Bludgeon, the town bully, took the lead in thia ■^r^;i\ 8 i I 86 iiA.pWroi[] 0% ■fV. ';•! M row. He was a short mail, With iron siiieWB, a oottipd^t frame, and a fearless spirit, whose stri^ngth exdeeded that of all his compeers, — to whom blows and bwises were mere matters of sport, and whose granite fist could lay the strongest man low at a single stroke. Thomas swept the field of all opponents, and returned to the ladies covered with glory. They too, excited with wine and toddy, clapped him tumultu- ously ; and the dance was renewed with furor, and continued till the gray dawn dimmed their lamps and closed their orgies. The next day the publican found two hundred dollars' Avorth of his wares broken and strewn in fragments about his house. He brought in a bill for the same against the managers, who refused payment, under plea of not being the parties to occasion the damage, A law-suit followed, which was pro- tracted through many months at an enormous expense, 'iraw- ing all the interests of the town in its wake, and prof'ucing incurable feuds between those who had before lived in harmony. This was but the beginning of sorrows. The ties of virtue were snapped where they were deemed soundest, and men turned out drunkards who were least of all suspected. The groggery swarmed with sots. Such a winter Mapleton had never seen. Tlie Sunday-school was abandoned of all except a few families, '^r r - - ^ ■■\fi.c^i'>-^i^^,:- •• ,^ho faithful proved among the faithless." , ^ Mrs. Douglass and Mrs. Durham persisted -still in their work, though the tide oi influoiice was all against them. They lived in constant jeopardy of their husbands. Their nights were sleepless, aad their days anxious and gloomy. They had the address as yet,)ifaowever, to keep them out of the way of temptation. Their husbands seemed themselves conscious of the danger, though not a ^ord wai breathed on the sub- (ii ! 1 \ MORE WORK FOR THE MAINE LAW. ^ 8T ject It was too delicate a subject for their conjugal com- xnunings. The good Mr. Littlefield, encouraged by Mr. HoUiston, continued to lift up his warning voice to the few that came to hear ; but it made no present impression on the morals of the town. Bacchus was the sole divinity of the masses ; riot, obscenity and drunkenness, were his litany and his rubric. s An event occurred early in May which made a strong impression. Old Mr. JoUops had been into the neighborhood of the Gore Inn on a matter of business, where he lingered through the day in a state of partial intoxication. About ten at night he started for home, a distance of four miles, but did not reach his destination. His sons went early next' morning in search of him, and found him about a quarter of a mile from his own house, lying on the ground, with his neck broken, by a fall from his wagon, in a state of intoxication. This gave a momentary check to the general dissipation, especially as Mr. Littlefield had the opportunity at his funeral of addressing the assembled town an earnest and afiectionate remonstrance against the prevailing vice. But the impression soon wore off. The summer was even more riotous than the winter, by reason of its greater facility for out-door dissipation. All the interests of the town were going to decay. A large part of the harvest of that summer was left to return ungathered to the ground, because the people were too intemperate and indolent to attend to it. And, whereas there ought to have been an advance of one or two tenths in the number of acres sowed that autumn, to keep pace with ihe increasing population, there was, on the contrary/, a falling off of more than one third. Farms were actually going to decay in a young town where the soil was in the freshness of its strength, and repaid a hundred-fold. 88 MAPLETON; OR, ^ The Sabbaths were spent in the groggery, in strolls along the lake-shore, fishing, hunting, wrestling, fighting, pitching quoits, and in other amusements still more debasing to society. The teachers of common schools, finding few scholars and little pay, were compelled to leave their occupation, while the children ran wild in the streets and woods. The poor-rate of the town, which had hitherto been merely nominal, now ran up to the highest mark for towns of its size, and families had to be provided for which had enjoyed comfort and thrift. An event occurred, on one of these riotous Sabbaths, in which the devil outwitted himself, "md, by urging an emissary bOO far, converted him into a po^/erful assailant of his own cause. This was Thomas Bludgeon. The riotous company had amused themselves that morning by taking a deer which the hounds had driven into the lake ; after which they had strolled along the shore till they reached a grove which crowned a high bank, its lofty tops rising more than a hun- dred feet above the level of the water. Here fathers and sons, mothers and daughters, brothers and sisters, friends and enemies, were congregated under the shade of the thick trees, with a fresh supply from the groggery passing round in a jug, to whet up their faculties, and prepare them for deeds of folly and madness. Under the seductive excitement, Thomas crept along on the trunk of a tree which jutted over the abyss, till he reached the top, where, flapping his arms as a cock his wings, he crowed cheerily to the company below. This called the attention of his mother to his fearful position, when, frantic with fear and rage, and not a little excited by draughts from the jug, she commanded him, in fuiious accents, to come down ; but the saucy fellow only derided her authority. ■M;i ^ IJ»li *. MORB WOI^ FOB X^IL MAINS LAW. $9 ^ "I tell you there, Tom, come down from tliat tree, or you '11 be killed! " again repeated Mrs. Bludgeon, in a louder and more imperious tone. > "An't I old enough to do as I please, for all you, mother?" hallooed Thomas, in an insulting manner. , "Tom, come down, or I '11 beat your brains out!" said Mrs. Bludgeon, in a still more violent tone, and with a move- ment of her athletic person, as if she felt herself competent to deal with her son as she had done in his boyhood. "You '11 find that a hard task, mother, I guess," replied Thomas, still climbing higher. The poor woman now screamed with rage and vexation, feeling the intense bitter- ness of ftiose who fail to govern their families in childhood, or command their respect in riper years. Some of the more sober present besought Thomas to consider his mother's feel- ings, and come down from his perilous situation. But it was now too late to withstand his excited ambition, which could scarcely have been greater had he been committed to a deed that should spread his fame as far as morning diffuses its light. Not satisfied with adhering to the trunk of the tree, he now crept along on one of its branches, hanging in mid- air, full a hundred feet above the yawning deep. This move- ment rendered his mother frantic, and a scene ensued of a comico-tragical kind, — to make one laugh behind his tears. Cursing and condolence were alternately blended in the same breath, as the disobedience or death of her son alternately preponderated in her view. o "You devil, — you torment, — you fool-hardy villain, ^ ^Tom," said she, " die, and done with it! " Then a protracted fvihine ensued, ending in the pathetic exclamation, "0, Tommy, my dear Tommy ! how can I see you die so? 0, Tommy ! my son, my son I " In a twinkling her anger would get the V 8* :.m. Ml mapuston; OB, better of her tendemees, and she would rage more furionsly than ever. '' Gome down there, Tom, or I '11 beat yott as long as I can Bee ! * * ♦ 0, Tommy, my love, my darUng! dead— dead— dead! 0—0— 0—0— 0!" when »he sunk down, alike insensible to anger, at the folly of her child, and to lamentation over his lifeless form. In regaining the trunk of the tree, Thomas came to a sense of his awful situation, and was relaxed with {bar. It was soon seen that he must fall, and a few men ran round with a boat in all haste, to do what they could to save him, in cose he emerged alive from the water. Fortunately, after hanging to the limb as long as he could, he dropped feet foremost ; so that when he emerged he felt no other injury than a sense of suffocation. This fall loft an impression on the mind of Thomas Bludgeon of the evils of intemperance, and of the pernicious traffic in ardent spirits, which made him ever after a perfect thunderbolt in the cause of reform. 'He mounted the stump, first in every neighborhood of his own town, and then all abroad, attracting around him count- less multitudes, v(jjfom he kept in peals of laughter by his wit, or drenched in tears by his pathos, or burning with indignation, even to mob violence, by his terrible assaults upon classes and characters. " How dare you speak so 7" called out a friend of temper- ance, under one of his soalding harangues. He paused, and glanced his burning eye over the vast audi- tory, exclaiming, "Speak so 7 speak so 7 — how dare I speak so 7 What dare I not do against a monster which is devouring us by scores and by thousands 7 If I were to uncap the pit, I # could not find in it a more detestable fiend than this factor in rum. No, no," he added, with tears streaming down his face, •\ ,\jf»f* T the Ami ton'i pros a fie! eettl so f cont] h-^^'to b ' ..y-r. t\ ■■r ■'■'■''■ '£• -" 'v ■il. MO&B WORK FOR IHB MAINE LAW. t "our sons and daughters, and fathers and mothers, and magis- trates and people, all, all alike suffer from the fell destroyer I " < Upon this he stated an array of facts, familiar to his audience, so dreadful and astounding that they no longer wondered that he should dare to speak as he did. t.!f!*^t ^v\:{f/:^- • :,im:.-.:^ ^.^ ' CHAPTER VIII. tr^mi^i;i^^^Pi^^*^.r^--\ ALCOHOL AND RELIGION. ' ,(V^--,»|1,,' .I.', •.. fi*,. ■•"ai, "'After t^roe glasses of wine, T am no longer master of my aoiions. Without being at the moment conscious of the change, I begin to see, and feel, and hear, and reason differently. The minor transitions between good and evU are forgotten ; the lava boils in my bosom. Three more, and I am ' a madman." — Harper's Magazine. ^ ^ • -• • ^; The Mapleton grog<5ery was, like honey to bees and flies, the point of attraction to all kinds of contradictory characters. Among others, the Gilfort family, to which Samuel, Skamp- ton's factor, belonged, i me to town, attracted by their son's prospects, and by the flaiitring account which he gave of it as a field for money-digging. They had spent their lives in border settlements, gradually receding as population advanced; and, so far back that "the memory of man runneth not to the contrary," they had been affected by this most singular mania , to be always digging for buried coin, or buried something, . 'o'hich the previous races of men were supposed to have deposited in caves now overgrown by wilderness trees. Though they got nothing but poverty and disappointment for their labor, yet this did not at all abate their superstitious ^. > IMAGE EVALUATION TEST TARGET (MT-S) <0 1.0 Sia I i.l 2.5 ■ 40 12.2 Ul US ■u u I init: 2.0 11.25 i 1.4 1.8 iJ4 6" 4c^'- 1, 4JfeW'~>'''«»*if <4^^ '^'^^^ MORE WORK VOt THB MAlNB LAW. ...iw-.'^a^-^j^y;!; Sh^fi'-Xf^' . >-(-.*;. > uvuuu liyoiiig inoneT-cli^gen Ihaf to jge^ tmneS <^ invoFral ^ a battle with its gnardian spirits. ^* "Where shall we place the lamp?" inquired one of the" oompanj, all of whom seemed awe-struck and spell-bound as soon as they reached the spot. •> 4 v^m " We '11 see," said Gilfort, taking the mineral-rod and holding it in a semi-circular form, tightly pressed by one hand near one end, and the other near the other end. Soon the rod commenced twirling and crawling like a serpent, — by the art of the holder nore than his magic, — till at length it became quiet, with onf end pointing obliquely to a mound of earth, like a grave, in the centre of the replaced dirt. " There, hang your lamp directly over that mound," added Gilfort. Accordingly a blue taper was suspended to an over- hanging branch to afford light in digging, the odor from which was strongly tinctured with brimstone, as if they had to do with beings accustomed to that element. Now not a word '^^ was spoken, and no sound was heard except that of the shovel and the falling dirt, united to the surf, the cries of the screech-owl, the howling of distant wolves, and some such dismal notes of the midnight chorus in a boundless wilder- ness. At length the diggers struck upon something which rumbled like a coffin, or some such deposit, in the bosom of the earth. A shudder went through the company, — the more HO from a superstition among them that, when a chest of money is touched, all the devils set to guard it exert their powerful incantations to wrest it from those who would secure it, and, if they do not succeed in breaking the spell in some way, the treasure will escape their hands, and will be sunk still deeper in the earth. The diggers felt, therefore, that the hole swarmed with watchful fiends ; cold horror curdled 96 ^;;S%-flIAPLETONj OB, I I m ihdr blood, and Gilfort seemed in an agoby, as if grappling with some power which was more than a match for him. Seizing a canteen of whiskey, he quaffed a luscious dranght, and handed it round to his men. Still, his spirit was greatly perturbed, the perspiration started trom every pore, his countenance was hideously distorted, and he seemed on the point of going into convulsions. Whether it might not have been a premonitory symptom of delirium tremens is a question. Certain it is, that disease when produced by alcohol, and only then, is allied, more than all other diseases, to Satanic agency. The whiskey enabled him to breathe easier, and he exclaimed, " Victory, victory ! you 're floored, you 're floored ! Ofl^ devils, off! I conjure you, by all the powers, be off! Strike, boys, strike! — dig, dig, dig, with all your might!" , - t -- The dirt now flew up more rapidly than ever. The men, too, felt the quickening of the canteen spirit. Each stroke of the shovel gave indubitable evidence of something under their feet more sonorous than earth and stones. It sounded, it rumbled, — now from the stroke of the spade, now from falling stones, and now from the feet of the men, — till, at length, a deep, hollow groan came up from the bowels of the earth, as from an imprisoned spirit in his adamantine dungeon. The men were mad with fright, and Gilfort could restrain them no longer. They all fled, and he after them ; but a happy thought occurred to him, and he returned, and, by dint of persuasion, succeeded in bringing two or three of his most courageous followers with him. They stood listening in solemn stillness, with their heads bowed over the pit, when they distinctly heard a voice muttering, under ground, " Be off, by St. Pathrick ! be off, or I '11 be the death of you, I will ! Murther — murther — murther ! " was next shrieked out from stentorian lungs, but stifled and suppressed by a i £ i\ MORE WORK FOR THB MAINE LAW. sense of suffocation. Then all was hushed, and they listened. The stillness was horrible. The hearts of the men smote their sides with four times the usuai strength. We have it from one who confessed the facts. He said it seemed as if his heart would leap out of his mouth. Whatever were Oil- fort's previous ideas, the thought now occurred, ''There's flesh here, as well as spirit. It 's a godsend. Now 's my time, and I must make the most of it. Who knows but we ,;. may have a resurrection 1 Yea, if not one thing, then an- other. My men '11 be witnesses, and it ' 11 be seen whether This was no sooner thought, than the muttering, or rather soliloquizing, began again. " Och, Pat, yer coi^'d up with, at lingth, for that yo kicked the blissed life out on her, ye * ' did. Jenny, daer, don't I love ye? — don't ye love me? Fait, bad luck to ye, Pat, to be dead as yet ye live ! Upon me sowl, there is no brathin ; me brith laves jist as I 'd bo after catching it, and my chist lapes out and in, like a boss with the haves." There was a solemn stillness again, and the men still listened, more dead than alive. Then followed a furious exclamation, " The sarpent ! the sarpent ! There, he 's comin' ; he 'd be after choking me ! ! ! " resound- ing upon the canopy of night with suffocated violence, like a man who feels a serpent entwining around his neck. They seemed the yells of a disturbed ghost, to frighten the wild beasts from their native liaunts. ■^•■■''•''^':^-<:---^^'^^-'-^i' Gilfort got down upon his hands and knees, put his head into the hole, and uttered a piercing cry, hoping to get a response ; .?^but in vain, — the muttering being again resumed. " What ^ mother's son ever lived to see hiself dead 1 Och, you ugly baste with a divel's head, what brings ye again? Do ye think to stop me brith ? By Saint Pathrick, I '11 bate your ■I 98 MAPLBTON; OR, brains out, I will ! Ta?'- that, yer divil's head I " when a powerful kick followed, upheaving the lid of the unnailed box, in which a man in grave-clothes was revebled in the blue light. ^1 "By all the saints, where am 17" said the man, now speaking more freely, from the admission of air. ♦aa'c*;j:|*ii(.|. %. " In hell," said Gilfort, in a guttural, unearthly tone. Ai4Tt ii- " Measther, plase yer honor, who be you 7 " ^^^^^ ^ "The devil," said Gilfort, in a horrible torieM^''^-'4%^^^m} ¥ " Yer riverence, Measther Bivil, where 's the praest 7 " -^ ' *' It 's too late for the priest to help you ; you are already in hell!" '^'^^ *' Fait, ba^ luck to ye, Pat ! It 's an ill bargain ye have made, to get out of purgatory. What 's a praest good for, upon me sowl7" *' There 's no help for you," said Gilfort, keeping up the illusion, for some cause not easily explained. " Och, Pat, be asy," said the man, "and take a wee dhrap for yer thirst. Ulaloo, yer riverence ! do you kape anything todhrink?" , .,. ...^ ,-, ^ "Yes; melted brimstone and liquid fire," replied Gilfort, not comprehending his meaning. ^^'->. -v-s.;!. " Och, on my sowl, what mother'^ son can drink the like of that 7 No gin, brandy, rum or whiskey, in all hell, to hilp a man that 's not to be hilped7 " <'% v y^^r Gilfort now understood his customer ; but to the unfortu- nate man the illusion was complete. He really thought, from the hue and odor of the light, from his sense of suffocation, from the devils that haunted him, and from the tone and manner in which Gilfort addressed him, that he was in hell. But, conscious still of the raging appetite of the drunkard^ no fear, no horror, no sense of the soul's infinite and eternal .r 'B MORB WORK lOR THE MAINE LAW. 99 .r loss, could extinguish the desire which had become the all- absorbing, the all-consuming impulse of his being. Gilfort saw that now was his time ; and, casting his gleaming eyes upon l.is men, he said, in a tone of command, " Stand still, and see the salvation of God. The end of our money-dig- ging is gained. A man redeemed is of more value than chests of gold. It is an intimation from above, that men, not money, should be the object of our pursuit." He then uttered a shrill sound, like the whistle of a locomotive, which jarred frightfully upon the buried man's nerves, and threw him into a tremor from head to foot. " In the name of God, man, come forth!" he added. At this the buried man started up, threw off his grave-clothes, and, receiving a draught from the canteen, he soon recovered his conscious- ness, and was lifted out of his grave by Gilfort's followers. - The sequel proved that it was Tooney, who, after killing his wife, ran away, ard enlisted in the United States army. He remained long enough to get his bounty-money and first pay of wages, when he deserted, and strolled back towards his former home, as fast as perpetual drunkenness would allow. On the beach of Forest Point he was taken with a fit, and when found was supposed to be dead, and to have been washed up by the surf, as he was drenched with water and covered with spray. A few persons had collected, at an early hour of the previous night, put him into a rude coffin, and buried him in a hole which they found already dug to their hand. It was no uncommon thing to bury bodies thus washed up, without jury or coroner, in a partially organized community, like that of Mapleton ; and to do it at night, as a partial relief against offensive odors. In this case, it was done more from habit than necessity. Whether Gilfort anticipated the result is an unsettled question. He cer- 100 MAPLBI'ONJ OE, ;|| . 1( tainly oould not know that the man would revive, and it was doubtless purely accidental that he should have found him. Men find what they seek. If they prowl about at night in pursuit of prodigies, prodigies will not be wanting. Gilfort's passion in this line amounted to a disease, the fruit no doubt of artificial excitement and preposterous training. Distorted statements of this matter got abroad, and pro- duced intense excitement among the Mapleton people. Thd friends of Gilfort insisted that he had raised a man from the dead, which served the more to increase the magic and mys- tery which invested his name. The neighbors testified to the fact of having buried a man whose personal appearance answered to that of ono whom they now saw at Gilfort's alive. The vacated grave on Forest Point, also, bore testi- mony that he was not there. The man himself affirmed that he had been in hell, and had been delivered by Gilfort. The money-diggers added their testimony, carefully stating only so much as to invest the scene with mystery and miracle. The ignorant Mapletonians, fond of the marvellous, as a gen- eral thing leaned to that view of the subject. A small minor- ity of the more sober and discerning accepted the facts as they were, simply giving credit to the money-diggers for hav- ings by accident, released a man, who had been incautiously buried alive, from the most dreadful of all situations. There was a great commotion on the occasion ; and Bludgeon, whose stump oratory now wielded a strong influence in town, pro- cured the appointment of a committee to investigate and report the facts, of which he was made chairman. The com- mittee met at Gilfort's both the raised man and the whole money-digging fraternity. , > :v *..u; mi V^;^; Bludgeon began the investigation by inquiring of the man his name. -? / r s • \ mm MORS WORK FOR THE MAINE LAW. 101 " Patlirick T^ooney, plaae yer honor." " When did you come to town? " " The dael knows, — sure not meself." " What brought you here 7 " '•The sarpents driv me. There's them now, by Saint Pathrick ! Be off, ye ill bastea*, or I '11 bo the death of ye ! " he exclaimed, kicking and striking with great violence, so that it was with difficulty that the sturdy money-diggers kept him from injuring himself *' The man''s crazy," said Bludgeon, having never before seen a case of delirium tremens. '■•■' V „ '_. vv " "No, he's possessed," replied one of Gilfort's followers, " but the power that called him from the grave can cast out the devils." '"'^ " 7 " .' "Can one rum devil cast out another rum devil? " s'tid a member of the committee, who suspected the nature of the disease. ^>4>'-- t-i "I shall suffer no slanderous imputations in my own house," said Gilfort, with a tone that roused his followers, and made it unsafe for the committee to pursue its investigations. "Truth demands the investigation, and I'll have it, if I die ! " replied Bludgeon, with a movement of his iron frame that made the company cower before such a battery of bodily strength. *' The story is abroad that you, Gilfort," he added, " have raised this man from the dead, and I am determined to know the truth of the matter." " Glad to have the truth known," said Gilfort, " but I must not be insulted." , > ' *^No oflfence intended," said the committee-man whose remark had raised this flurry. • ■. 7, ^ " You, then, have no recollection of coming here 7 But where did you come from ? " said Bludgeon to Tooney. 102 MAPLBTON; OB, ■'J ■ ^>- '*.. « I oom'd from the barracks," said Tooney ; '' and I tuk a dhrap for me hilth at Glareville [Clearville, a little town oil the eastern border of Mapleton], and those bastes began laping, and walluping, and skoUoping, roond me head like divils; and I run, run, run, till I run- >i K Well, where?" interrupted Bludgeon. ?•"!•> « To hell ! " said the man, with a shudder of horror. ''He means that he run till he dropped dead on Forest Point," sa.d one of the money-diggers. " y/hat kind of a place is hell 7 '* said Bludgeon. ''^\ " An' faith, it 's Leyond me spaking ; — so dark, so boond as to me hands and fate, — so crawlin' all over with snakes, — 80 tight, tight ! ! there 's no brathing." • ; - • "And how did you escape 7 " • •- S- ^* '? -^ i " In fath, I thought to get a dhrap for me thirst, and to find a praest to get the worth of me money ; but not the divil of a bit did they hilp me, till that man, blessed sowl he is ! " pointing to Gilfort, " guv me relase, and withal a dhrap that asedmemuch." t- :>' "'v:'' •■■'^v-f'"^-' - '-■''*'' ' ■■ '" "Then whiskey raised you from the dead 7 " said Bludgeon, with a sneer. "What agency had you in the matter, Mr. Gilfort?" 5 ^/ " I claim simply to have had a presentiment that I must dig that night on Forest Point," said Gilfort, with great apparent fairness. " I obeyed, and the dead man was brought to life, and, he says, delivered from hell ; which I am prepared to believe, from the spectres which have haunted him i since M .k*''' Thus Bludgeon elicited nothing to shake the confidence of the vulgar rabble in Gilfort's mysterious powers. « There is a tide in the affairs of men, ; /" . Which, taken at the flood, leads on to fortune * "i5-:- r.<*-~ \ /^.jrn MORE WORK FOR THB MAINE LAW. loa / > So it proved with Gilfort. His Falls tract speonlation gave him money, which he invested in an enonuous tract of gov- ernment land beyond the Mississippi. And this resurrection hoax operated Uke magic to draw colonists around him. who not only paid him a large advance on the cost of his lands, but raised him to a peerless elevation as the ruler of their destiny. But, whatever spiritual hold Gilfort may have taken on the deluded people, it is certain that the physical ones of rum and illicit love were far more powerful. Venus and Bacchus were notoriously the divinities of his colony, and the great charm to those of a voluptuous imagination. , . ' ■ i ■ : . . ' ' r , ' ■•'• \ ,;.r •!>:,. ,- ' '' '•' .;:.■'■.'• ■• ...' ■'i::T'i .-^ •^■'. .'»!' '*; <'' :>Ki! ^' *"•<::'■. '■':■ f •\r. -'«' r' :ii, >;*^1'^ ;^t»•.;•.?.^,"vr..i .,, CHAPTER IX. THB ALCOHOLIC TRAFFIC REACHES A CRISIS IN MAPLETON. ,, -' ' / ' " It may be so ; but yet my inward soul -' * ., , .. -. Perauadea me it is otherwiae. Howe'eritbe, ^ ^ ; I cannot but be sad : so heavy sad, ^ . As — though, in thinking, on no thought I think — Makes mc, with a heavy nothing, faint and shrink. .•i':y '"'• Shaksfeabe. r It had by this time come to be whispered in Mapleton that ^ Messrs. Douglass and Durham had nothing to boast of, over 'N,i^ their neighbors, on the score of drunkenness. " They are at heart as bad as we," was the consoling unction which many a tippler took to his conscience. " They needn't think to set themselves above us ; we know all about them. Gumpton (the innkeeper, where they were intoxicated on the way) has 104 MAPLBTON; OR, told US, and it 's not worth while for them to play the hypo- crite. Mr. Skampton, too, says he has seen them hoth drunk ; and they'll he drunk again, without a douht. Their families needn't set themselves up in this way." The pains which Gumpton and Skampton had taken to propagate this scandal looked two ways ; first, to destroy the effect of remonstrances from those families against the liquor- traffic, and, second, to reveal the danger that lurked within their own doors. Every measure was taken by interested persons to involve Douglass and Durham in the common dis- sipation. They were invited on all convivial occasions, were offered a treat at every trifling pretext, and were exposed to all tht)se arts by which drinkers know so well how to decoy those whose appetites are like their own. But, as yet, their \ efforts availed nothing. Temperance yet overspread these families with a peace and prosperity which made them a green oasis amid the general desolation. ■ Still, the fears which reigned within their doors none knew but themselves and their God. Mrs. Durham was in that condition to make a wife feel more than ever dependent on her husb&ad, and was rapidly approaching her crisis of pain and agony. The winter had been unusually cold, thus far, and the snow, in Mapleton, had fallen deeper than ever before. Mr. Durham attempted little business, beyond the care of his stock, and the provision of fuel, to cope with the rigor of the season. The most of his time he spent within doors, to cheer his wife's despondency by reading and enlivening conversation. Their little Amelia said, one morning, at the breakfast- tabloj. J " Mamma, I had a queer dream last night." " What was your dream, my love 7" inquired her mother. " I thought the snow fell and fell, till it got as high as the top of the trees, and that our house was covered with it so deep ?■?'• %^. \\. iW-' .../. \\ I MORE WOBK FOB fB8 «UINB LAW. IA5 that we could get no wood. I thou^t the fire all went out, and then the sun went out too, and did not shine any more; and it was so cold, cold, — 0, how cold ! I thought I put ymy haiid on yoa, and you was cold as ice; and then on dear t Charley, and he was cold as ice ; and then on Sis, and she ||was cold; and I felt myself getting to bo ice, too, and shiy- i'^iered all over, dreadfally. Then I thought papa came home ; *' and he was changed into ice, and we were all ice together." ,; "My sweet Milly," said her mother, "you got the clothes loflf, no doubt, and slept cold ; that made you dream so." ;> " No, mamma; when I waked up, I was just as warm as 01 am now." " Milly has seen so much snow this winter, no wonder she dreams so," said her father. "I think it's a sign we are I going to have warm weather; for dreams go by contraries, you know." k " I guess mamma don't think so," said little Lydia, look- ing up, with a cunning and embarrassed look, out of her glis- tening eyes, as if she were saying something she ought not. " Why not, you black-eyed pet? " said her father, gayly. ; J "Because she weeps; I saw her weep to — to-morrow," added the child, hesitating whether to use that word or ' "yesterday." , "No; yesterday, you mean, dearest," said her father. '! " Yes, she weeps sometimes," replied LydiaT * "My dear wife," said Mr. Durham, with genuine tender- ness, "I have mistrusted what this little witness testifies of ,/%,fi.,^| you. I am afraid you have some grief at heart which you do not tell me of." % "No, Charles, none, except that, in my present condition, i I cannot bear to have you a minute out of my sight. Wo lUfejo j^ fe>m neighbors» and I am now bo helpless, that, if "~V 106 JiAIH^acQN;. o»» -. ;r^ ' ' you are gone an hour, I tremble all over, like an aspen-leaf. I am all the time thinking that something may happen to you when I could neither relieve you nor help myself, nor do anything for our dear little ones, so perfectly powerless do I feel myself to be. These aie foolish feelings. I know ; but I cannot help them. They will come up. iu spite of me ; and I suppose they may have caused me lo shed the tears which dear little Sis has brought into court against me." ^~'^ " That reminds me to say — what I have had in my mind some days — that I think we had better get Ma'am Tobey to stay with you till after your confinement. She is said to be an excellent nurse, and, withal, a very agreeable companion. This will relieve your feelings, my dear Amelia, during the few hours of the day I am compelled to be out of the house. ^ " You are very kind, n^y husband," replied Mrs. Durham^ with tears of gratitude glistening in her eyes. " Perhaps it would be advisable. We cannot tell what may happen to one in my circumstances ; and I cannot overcome my fear of being left alone with the children." -^.^, --i^ ■ ^i,^ , -^jj^^e*^ ,.j-_^ . ^v" Well, I will attend to a few things about the farm this morning, and then will go. with the sleigh, and bring Ma'am Tobey. I know she will take it as a favor to come, in her present dependent situation. Her husband and sons, having sunk together into the slough of our town drunkery, are gone all the time ; and I am told that she, poor thing, has neither food to eat nor fiiel to keep her warm." ^ y^.i^? i; i;m\ MORE WORK FOR THE MAINE LAW. kf^ ti ItroDg oonsolation from the hope of a better world, where maternal solicitude would visit her no more, where the storms of winter, then howling fearfully around her dwelling, would no more overcast her serene sky, and where anxiety for hei husband's safety, in person or morals, would not hold her in suspense and torture, — but where all would be security, peace and joy, transporting and immortal. Her hopes and aspira- tions acquired a mysterious unearthliness, as if nothing more awaited her in this region of death, but only in the bright reversion of angelic life and immortal day. To amuse herself, she gathered her little ones around her, and spent several hours in teaching them to read, in talkinj^ to them of heaven, — of the happy circles there, where father, mother and children, all meet, and mingle in sweet discourse, V. sin no more, to suffer no more, to part no more. Her words were words of inspiration to the dear little group, and thoj at listening in rapt meditation, with clasped bands and uplifted and adoring eyes. Night drew on, and the storm raged more and more fearfully. The snow, which began to fall soon after her husband left, had added one or two feet to the underlying accumulation of previous storms, so as to create the most serious apprehension as to whether he could make his way through the drifts. She summoned all her firmness, and all her stock of courage, for the , sako of her children. It would nave gratified her to see them remain awake, as a relief to her loneliness ; but, at their appointed hour, they were sinking mto the sweet, profound forgetfulness of childhood's sleep ; and she put them into their beds, after hearing them say their prayers. What next? She strained her eyes at the window, to penetrate the gathering storm and darkness, if possible to catch a glimpse — one hope-inspiring glimpse — of his loved a; ■ 'i .\ 1^^ 108 liAPLBTON; OR. I * I and adored form ; but all, aU in vaiQ. No husband came. She listened to hear the &miliar tones of his voice, in speak- ing to his horses ; but no sound greeted her, except those of the raging tempest and creaking forests, with the occasional crash of a frost-bound tree or limb, in sinking into the under- lying snow. She bethought herself of Charles Douglass' last letter, which she had not answered ; took it from her portfolio, and began reading and writing, to divert her thoughts from the horrible ideas which had caken possession of her mind. Young Douglass had been her constant correspondent from the time of his leaving for college ; and his last letter contained &cts in which she had the liveliest interest, and which, for the moment, had the effect of diverting her mind. It seems that, when he had nearly completed his senior year, the college was visited by the Honorable Michsiel Skampton, as this gentleman was called in thbse parts ; or, rather, he passed more frequently as the patron, or patroon, — or, as his enemies would have it, the patron saint, — quali- fying terms, except r no last, more gratifying to his pride than his civil distinctions, because they touched the point of his character where lay his ruling passion. He lived, and earned, and ground the»face of the. poor, and trampled on the laws of humanity, and preyed like a vulture on the vices of society, to get the means of buying, on a large scale, reputation and influence as a benefactor. The whole college was called together in the chapel, in anticipation of his arrival ; and, when he entered, escorted by the faculty, the assembled students and functionaries rose to do him honor. He was shown the seat usually occupied by the president, the latter gentleman taking a subordinate place to the greatest patron Diddington College had ever enjoyed. Charles, having ''earned, by this time, the wreck to which he had reduced his ■^i ;'.li^''i%,) MOBB WOEK VOR THS MAINE LAW. own beautiful Mapleton, by means of bis detestable groggery, w({uld not rise witb tbe rest, wbicb exposed bim to tbe repri- mand of the &cttlty, and to the indignation of this modem Haman. Young Douglass bad signalized himself more than any of the students in the cause of temperance. He bad induced a large number of them to sign the pledge. Ho bad delivered many temperance lectures in Diddington, and had spent his vacations in lecturing wherever there was an open door. He had had such a fearful home experience of the evils of drinking, that he committed his energies to this cause, and determined to prosecute it by all the means in his power. He made it a point of conscience, however, never to infringe upon college laws or study hours, in doing it. The faculty bad no charge of neglect or insubordination to allege against him. True, he had made himself obnoxious to the wine- bibbing students, and particularly to his old friend and school- fellow, Harry Howard, whose habits were very dissipated. Harry's parents were wealthy, and furnished him all the money he desired to expend, which was not a little. Money, not study, preserved his standing in bis class. His nights were spent in revelling, in spite of college law or discipline ; his lessons were neglected, and he was the ringleader in mis- chief. Charles felt all the tenderness for Harry of his childhood's recollections, and, for a time, associated with him on terms of too much familiarity. This brought him acquainted with many of Harry's tricks, which, when ques- tioned by the faculty ^on the subject, he found he must con- ceal by lies or confess with honesty. In an alternative like this, he bad but one course before him, and that was to speak the truth. This brought upon him the malignity of young Howard, and of the rowdies under bis influence, who let no ^ ' 10 110 MAPLSTON; OR. »> opportunity Blip of treating him iinth thoM «nd dander. Their stories to the faculty had little effect, because the motive of them was too well understood. But Skampton, who was president of the board of trustees, and more powerful than the faculty, drank in their stories with avidity. He collected the names of the students who were known to be associated with Charles in the temperance cause, — all of whom, as it appeared, were also on the same foundation to which he had been admitted, — and gave them a formal reprimand for their course, and particularly for slander- ing Master Howard. There were twelve of the students whose names Skampton had on a bit of paper before him, that of Douglass being at the head of the list. Reading over these names, he said, '' Young gentlemen, I call you together to let you know that you are dependent on my bounty for a place in this college ; and, if you do not cease from these tem- perance lectures and agitations, I *11 drop you at once, and leave you to shirk for yourselves." The blood flushed in Charles' face, and with ill-suppressed indignation he exclaimed, "It is new to me, sir, that I have received a cent of your money. But it shall not be so another day ; I will refund it. I will not receive the bounty of a man who has lived by demoralizing society, and whose very money is the price of blood ! " v ;,, ''What do you say, sir?" said Skampton, boiling O'ver with rage. irii- ,:.^- ■ .■-.■--^ ■■:,■: --n ; ;;:, '1,^^■:^■""^ *- " I say I will not have your money. I know too well how you get it. I am familiar with the t^rs, poverty and mur- der, which it has occasioned in my own town, and among my own friends." |^ :.- ., -. tj-^ '-'•■:-- ■' ' *:TMr --S , i^cfevs--" ; Ai^g^-". "You are a dirty little dog!" said Skampton, trembling with excitement. " You shall be expelled this college before ■/" ^ i t\ MORE WOBK FOR IHB MAINE LAW. Ill the sun goes down, and I'll prosecute your father for slander!" « Not my father, sir," said Charles; ^' I fopoi of age, and can answer for myself." '^ '' With this Skampton flew out of the house, and left the assembled group to their own way. Charles called on a temperance friend in town, stated the facts of the case, and asked a loan cf money to pay up all he had drawn on tho Skampton foundation, interest and principal. This was freely granted him ; and that night, when the officer came to take him on a charge of slander, he was able to stand up with the proud consciousness of owing nothing to a fund collected by means so detestable, so abhorrent to humanity. The suit fell to the ground by a twlle prosequi, Marldon advising his cHent that the facts following the opening of his Mapleton tavern, which would be magnified to justify what defendant had said against him, rendered such a suit hopeless before any jury to be empanelled in these temperance times. But in the matter of the expulsion Skampton was more successful, because, much as the faculty and trustees regretted it, they felt the leanness of their treasury, and were willing to bum incense to the indignation of a man on whom they were so dependent. For this act, however, Charles did not care a copper, so far as he was concerned. He felt the strength of his own position as a student. He knew he was far in advance of what his class would be when their senior year had expired. Besides, he could study as well out of the walls of a college as in, and much more to his own satisfaction. The loss of a degree he did not value a straw, as the country was filled with graduated dunces ; and he gloried in a non-gradu- ating preeminence. There may have been some human feeling in all this * but then it was natural, under the circumstances, 11^ MAPLBTON; OR, to a yonng man in the wann blood of his first month's majority, and exposed to such indignities and provocations. Corpora- tions that suffer themselves to be controlled by mercenary considerations and designing men must expect to have the wares in which they deal depreciated in the market, and a loathing tc noble minds. So capricious are their doings, in many cases, that it may be said of them, as the lawyer said of the decisions of a petit jury, that, though he believed that God fore-knew, whatever comes to pass, he thought such decisions must be excepted from the remark, for they were too uncertain to be fore-known. The letter which poor Mrs. Durham was amusing herself with detailed, these &cts. She read it over and over again, listening to the storm as she read, trembling with fear, and tormented with apprehensions, which none can realize who have not been in her condition ; not the least of which was, that her husband might have fallen into this very grog- gery which had been a cause of so much trouble to young Douglass. She at length took her pen and wrote her full approval of Charles' conduct in the ^.-tter, and then pro- ceeded to detail th ■) more recent doings of the alcoholic traffic in Mapleton. She stated the suflFerings of poor Ma'am Tobey, and that her husband had then gone to bring her to their house. She informed him that the worthy and venerable Mr. Robson, after inveighing against the groggery with all his might, had been drawn in, and added to the number of its victims. He had been an early prey to intemperate habits, from which he refrained for some years, but was now taken the more easily by the destroyer. His age and. infirmities could not withstand this late return to the vice, delirium tremens soon ensued, and he had died in the most dreadful torments. " He begged his fi:iends to kill him at a blow, for ..<<^- f\- MORE WORK FOR TBB MAINB LAW. 113 the devils that tormented him were more unendurable than hell itself. Charles, Charles ! what are we to say to these things 1 How happens it that this alone, of all our diseases, produces such a sense of being tormented by devils ? Is it real, or is it altogether imaginary ? Do tell me, in your next, wnat you tnmjc. vj-;^i,,/r*iji-^ L5?ri:i:n''i»£i.''^?;"awrt*' . Then her pen seemed to float at random, as if to divert her own corroding thoughts, more than from any intention of transmitting the uncopied document. '' Charles, Charles ! what are we to do '^ Dear me! dear me, husband ! why don't ^ou come, — come to your agonized Amelia! The storm howls, howls! 0, God! when will he come? The clock strikes eleven. Eleven ! 0, — ! eleven of this dismal night ! and I, — I and my little ones away in this howling wilderness ! alone, so many miles from all help and all relief! I can't be quiet ! No ! no ! no ! I scream, — I can 't help screaming ! 0, my husband ! where are you, dearest, that you come not to the help of your terrified wife, who loves, who adores you 1 My God, take care of him, — take care of me, — take care of my little ones ! Do ! do ! do ! — yes, to heaven take us all ! — all, if one must go ! 0, — ! there, I 'm screaming again ! I can 't help it ! 0, — 0, — ! mad, — mad, — mad ! I must to bed." These broken sentences were almost illegible from the tears vuth which they were bedewed, and doubtless fol- lowed by convulsions. • ■ ■■ The explanation of this sad delay was as terrific to Mr. Douglass as to poor Durham. It seems that these two gentlemen had unfortunately met nearly opposite that hell of the town, the groggery. It was cold, and snowing fiercely. They sat a short time talking from each other's sleighs, when that emissary of the devil, the landlord, came running out, with his face covered with sedootive smiles and his tongue dropping 11* maplbton; or, f irMfii sweet words like honey-dew, and saying to Mr. Douglass that ' he had heen striving many days to see him, upon a pressing matter of business, and if that gentleman and Mr. Durham would come in and warm themselves a single moment, he would see their horses well cared for, and it would be much to their own comfort. '' With his much fair speech he caused them to yield ; with the flattery of his lips he forced them ; and they went straightway as an ox to the slaughter, or as a fool to the correction of the stocks ; till a dart struck through their liver ; as a bird hasteth to the snare, and knew not that it was for their life." The winds swept over the plain, the lake roared in the distance, with waves as sluggish from anchor ice as a boiling caldron of quicksilver, and the whole scene of wintry cold and desolation without conspired to give point and power to the serpent's charm within, and to the deadly coil in which he was enfolding their hearts. >v ..:.. i^ Their horses all sweating with fatigue in wallowing through the snow, they finally reined up under the shed, and followed their tempter into his hell. Durham hesitated, and hesitated; said his wife was alone, and peculiarly needed his presence; * but still he followed. The landlord offered them something to drink, and expatiated on the necessity of it on so cold a day, and after so much exposure. They at first declined, seeming to feel their danger, and to be conscious that they stood on the brink of a precipice. But, after warming themselves a while, and being further plied wit'a fair words by their host, Doug- lass said he was all in a tremor and chilled to his very vitals ; he believed a mug of hot gingered cider would do him good, and he ordered it. He poured a glass for his friend, and atep for himself, and they drank it together. "^' But no sooner had the poison entered their veins than they lost sight of every motive to sobriety, and alcoholic fancies I (I ,i. MORS WORK VOB THB MAINS LAW. 115 S.i-J Bwarmed around them, like devils in the plumage of paradiie. Glass after glass of brandy was called in ; Durham began to sing, and Douglass to fight ; and the inn was a hell indeed, and they its devils. Douglass staid till twelve of the night, when his two sons, George and Samuel, with a posse of men from the farm, came to hunt for him, suspecting the fact, and, by main force, drew a strait-jacket over him, and took him home, howling to the wintry winds like a fiend from the realm of darkness. That incarnation of evil, the publican, finding Durham peaceable, and, withal, flush of money, hus- tled him into another room when the young Douglasses came, so that they left without the knowledge of his presence. Nor did their father, in the long-continued series of drunken fits which ensued, mention the fact. The consequence was, that Durham laid two weeks drunk in the groggery. At the expi- ration of this time, he fell into a profound sleep, from which he did not awake for twelve hours ; and, when he did finally awake, the insanity of intoxication had passed, and the first thought he had was of his wife and children. He had no idea of the time of his separation, more than if he had laid all \he8e days in a fit. He sprang convulsively to his feet, and hastened to the shed ; but found his horses so nearly starved by the ava- ricious landlord that he could not trust to their taking him home through the snow. His next thought was to run to Mr. Holliston's, which he did, and acquainted him with the state of his affairs, trusting he might prove a. comfort to his wife, both as physician and minister. Mr. HoUiston got up his own horses, and took poor Durham to his family with all despatch, being also ignorant of the length of time that he had been absent from them. They passed Ma'am Tobey's, but found the house sunk in a snow-drift, and not a soul m it. This excited alarm in Durham's mind. They then hur- ■%" 116 MAPLITOV; OKy ried as fait u the unbroken rood would tdmit, struggling on till sundown, when thej suooeeded in reaching the house ; but found it also buried in the snow, and no sign of life near, except a few half-starved and half-frozen cattle. Durham jumped out of the sleigh, and, rushing ahead, pushed his way by force through the closed door, when he found the interior a complete drift, that had come down chimney, and sifted through every unguarded crevice. By this time Mr. Hol- liston was upon his heels, anxious to find how matters stood within. But, 0, horror ! horror ! God have mercy on the drunk- ard's family ! There lay Mrs. Durham on her own bed, cold and stiff, with a new-born infant, naked, at her side, also dead and frozen! Behind the mother, and pressed close against her person, was dear little Charles, with bis icy arms enfolding her, and every drop of blood congealed in his veins. They then hastened to the little girls' room, and found them in their bed, emaciated to mere skeletons, but not so long dead as to be completely frozen. They, too, were locked in each other's little arms. The fears of poor Mrs. Durham had evidently brought on a premature birth, ending in con- vulsions, the very night of her husband's departure, and she and the infant had frozen together. Little Charles, with a .child's instinct, had clung to his dead mother, and bis arms were soon frozen by the icy contact, from which point the frosts of death gradually spread over his whole body. The little girls had kept up as long as they could, without wood or food, and then had crept together into their bed, to find an icy grave. Poor little Amelia's prophetic dream was more than fulfined,.^^"'?,.^i.;*^.-^;'S'i^^^--.H^:-v ■.,'^^^' '■■■':'.^\fi''-'i^'-W^- No words, no description, can reach the reality. It was a chamd-house of the horrible traffic in intoxicating drinks. ■.iK' ■# i\ IfORB WORK VOB ZHB BfAINB LAW. m The firoien viotimg of this worse than Moloch, in his thint for innocent blood, with the lines of sorrow still visible in their indurated features, uttered, in the dumb accents of death, such a remonstrance against our legislation on this subject, as to ^ppal and confound those who have given their voice and vote in its favor, 0, detestable legislation ! who can number thy dead? Who can estimate thy crimes? Who can tell the extent of the pauperage, the poverty fMAd the wretchedness, which owe their being to thee ? Mr. Holliston was silent, and so was Durham. It was a case to baffle feeling, and beggar language. They dug some wood from under the snow, and ligjited a fire. Durham was helpful in all this. Mr. Holliston then proposed to go and bring in the neighbors. "Mr. Durham," said he, ''perhaps you will feel better to go with me." "No," said Durham, quietly, "you go, and I'll stay and watch the fire and keep the house." ,, "Very well; I'll be back soon," said Mr. Holliston, not a little surprised at the self-possession of the miserable man. But, had he looked cautiously, he would have seen in it the suicide's calmness. His eyes were glassy and fixed. It was the repose of despair ; it was the self-possession of one to whom living was death, and death his only life. Not a tear did he shed, not a groan did he utter, not a complaint did he make. As soon as Mr. Holliston was gone, he took the pen that had dropped from the fingers of his dying wife, thawed out the inkstand, and wrote on the paper, under the last tear-besmeared lines of her agitated hand, the following note : " This world is my hell. There can be no worse. I have a duty to do to my departed wife and children, which I go Il iU mjimoiK; of, to disufan^i^. Inrost oonfess at their feet my ^me, and! beseech them to forgive me. Dear, dear or.t)s, I follow yotf to the spirit-land ! Ghahles Dubham." When Mr. Holliston returned, tdth the neighhox's, they found him hung with a rope to one of the beams of his house, and quite dead. At tile funeral, which was attended by the whole town,— yea, by neighboring towns, also, — Mr. Holliston delivered an address on the evild of the liquor-traffic, in which he detailed its sad ravages in their once peaceful and prosperous town. They then buried the whole family in one grave, laying the dear little infant on the breast of its sorrow-stricken mother, and the others side by side, according to their ages. After the burial, Thomas Bludgeon harangued the assembled mul- titude. -»^' Gentlemen," said he, "what's to be donel Here is a den in our town which the sober, respectable and industriouff, enter, to come out drunkards, paupers and beggars. Here is a den into which our children are decoyed, and come out a blight to parental hopes. Here is a den which the happy wedded couple visit, only to violate their plighted vows, and »l become a curse to their children. Here is a den to sink for- ever the hard earnings of labor ; yea, worse, to make them a blight and curse to those by whose sweat they were acquired. This den is inhabited by a sorcerer, the touch of whose wand converts ministers and churches into hypocrites, Sabbaths into scenes of bacchanalian riot and revelry, school-houses into kennels, and earth into hell Here is a monster before whom law is a rope of sand, and the bonds of society a gos- samer web, to be blown to the winds. Here is a school yiUok graduates moderate drinkem confirmed drunkards, J*"" MORS WOUK FOK TKB MAINS LAW. im hoDest people knaves, cut-throats mA assassins. WUl yon suffer this den longer to exist among jou? Will you allow tiliis sorcerer to exercise his damnable magic? Will yon allow this monster to seize more victims, and tibis school to multiply among us its detestable pupils 7 " € " No, no, no ! " cried many thousands, all bathed in tears r *. the spectacle they had witnessed, and mad with indigna- tion against its guilty cause. '' Law or no law, — no, no, no ! Pown with the groggery ! " ' "Yes, law or no law •'" replied Bludgeon; and, raising his hands to heaven, shaking his iron frame in defiance, and casting his flaming eyes in the direction of the inn, he added, "I swear, by the eternal God, that hell shall not pollute this town another day. Who dares stand by right against law 1 Let him speak." " I dare ! " " I ! " " I ! " " I ! " cried innumerable voices. " Down with the groggery ! down with the groggery ! down with the groggery ! " "Come on, then!" said Bludgeon; "come on, come on, ye men of Mapleton, who are for casting out the devil^|a^^ spite of priests and lawyers ! follow me to the assault ! " jj," To the assault ! to the assault ! lead on, and we '11 fol-.^ low ! Down with the groggery ! down with the groggery ! ">- repeated a thousand stentorian voices, in tones that made the welkin ring. Off rushed the infuriated multitude, headed by Bludgeon, and began their work by emptying the detestable sink of all its valuables, pouring its alcohol into the gutters,,^ and ending by making a bonfire of the building. ^^^^^ "Where's the landlord? — this hell-hound, — where is he? where is he?" cried innumerable voices. ' " Here he is ! here he is ! hid in the stable ! " replied some. " Bring him out ! bring him out ! " was the imperious d^. -.■,!'^ ) ,, 120 MAPLBTON; OB, i t !! mand on all sides. The trembliLg puHican was brought oat, and, after a mock trial, was condemned to a coat of tar and feathers, and to be rode out of town upon a rail. The decree was no sooner passed than executed, and the miserable wretch was dipped into a cask of tar, and then rolled in the feathers of one of his own beds, and, in this plight, was mounted on a rail, which was carried, in solemn procession, a distance of seven miles, where he was placed out of town, with a threat of being worse dealt by if he ever entered it agam. Skampton sued the town, laying his damages at ten thou- sand dollars. Marldon pleaded his cause, urging the respons- ibility of government to protect the property of its citizens against mob violence. "Government,'' he said, "pledges itself to this, by levying and receiving taxes. The tax-payer would have no qtiid pro quo, if he could not claim indem- nity against the depredations of a mob. Hence, the state or town is in equity bound to make good the losses thus sus- tained." It was in vain that the opposing counsel pleaded the law of nuisances against the groggery, because the license of the state, by which it had been established, was urged, on the other side, as an express guarantee of protection, over and above what could be claimed for property in general. " Do you mean to make the state answerable for all the pauper- age, misery and murder, which this groggery has introduced into our town?" said the counsel for defendants. "If so, your honors," he added, addressing the court, "nothing remains but to prosecute the state for locating among us a nuisance so destructive to its own laws, so prejudicial to our interests." The cause went against the town, it being mulcted in the sum of five thousand dollars, by means of which Skampton, in due time, restored his groggery, and renewed his work of ruin among the people. MORE WORK FOR IBB MAINS LAW. X21 'f^-M0'' jm:k'mm-^ CHAPTER '^mr^^'mi^fym>' tUf^ vj*^ a; Ihb despair and hope of a drunkard's SON.:^., ■^^^'^A « a, feel ,,,, X ,,,, ^^^m^mm-'^^^^mm. ay^.%- ■ -^;-^a '^^ Go bear what I have borne ; ■^'^^^■^^^^^^ Ifevf ^;^ ^:; ^^^^- Sink 'neath the blow a father dealt, '*i^>?j^fefe*^# '1 :V;S}T- :r •:tS'' 3H'^- ■'^'"* *^6 cold world's proud soorn.. i k. ^:i^^^j^i^^^ Then suffer on from year to year. Thy sole relief the scorching tear." ^ Charles' return to Mapleton was attended by a melancholy pleasure. He rejoiced to meet his friends, but mourned — 0, how bitterly ! — at the corrupted state of society and family wrecks which the traffic in intoxicating drinks had occasioned. He visited the desolated home of the Durhams, and found the house occupied by cattle, th** conservatory a resort of swine, the garden overrun with weeds, and all its beauty defaced, all its glory departed. He remembered his first visit to the place, and the scene of domestic beauty and bliss over which Mrs. Durham then presided as a divin- ity, a voluntary exile from that society whose laws and cus- toms were so fatal to her happiness. But there was no hiding from the demon. Tt Md pursued her even in exile ; and here, even here, so far away from neighbors, so hid from civil society, that society had pursued her with its ruinous legisla- tion, and consigned her and her beloved family to one common grave. He walked a little beyond the house into a beautiful grove of young maples, and there he found the new-made grave surmounted by a white marble slab, erected by the con- tributions of the people, and inscribed as follows : ^i'^i;";^^ :|iV,*- (1*3^? tftf^" 122 MAPLBION: OB, ,i.'i..m'-'.'Ai' ■'# " Charles Durham and his Wife. Amelia Du-^ham and their Four Children. Amelia. Caroline. Ltdia Douglass. • 4^M^^0^^^^ Charles, Junior, and ^'i^^.^P^ ts^Sl BenoNL ■ ^ -■^'^''•' ■ a;..;''' All victims of the traflSc in alcoholic poisons." *^^'^^^* i^ Underneath Charles wrote, " Murdered by Unrighteous Legislation." -^«^**^-^-^ :.:.^/jM^^.^it- Young Douglass lingered long in this grove, weeping bit- ter tears over the associations of the place. He thought of the buoyant, girlish days of Mrs. Durham, when she was the hope of her family, the belle and pride of her town ; and also of the fatal steps which led to her marriage with one so noble in character, and yet so hopelessly doomed by a prediis- position to vice inherited from the drinking habits of a former generation, and by the gins and snares provided by state leg- islation to insure his ruin. And these dec^r little ones, whose only crime was to be bom of such a father and under such laws, thus given over to a mode of death which, to think of, makes the blood curdle with horror ! 0, Grod I how mysterious are thy providences, and thy ways past finding out ! He thought of the constant peril in which his own fafnily lived from the same cause, — a peril which, though just tken somewhat diminished by mob right against legal and organic wrong, yet which would return upon them, perhaps, with more fearful results than ever, as soon as some licensed emissary of the state had th^ oppor- tunity to renew among them the cruel traffic. He was affected by the evidence furnished that the last rational thoughts of poor Mrs. Durham were directed to himself. The answer of his letter, begun in a sound mind, but ending in distraction, to bo followed by convulsions and the pains 0^' MORS TVOBE FOR THE Mi^INB LAW. 128 '■A. ,' yj-n' ' ■ ■ '/ of child-birth, endured all alone, and terminating in her own death and that of all her family, — this seemed to Charles too dreadful to think of. He spent days in weeping over the fate of the family. Ncr was he alone in this. The whole town and couhtry manifested the liveliest sensibilities on the subject ; and for a time it produced almost a total suspension of those drinking habits which had caused all the trouble. Indeed, the temptation to drinking had, to a great extent, perished with the groggery. The poison was not now obtruded upon them as before, and the families which had sur- vived the wreck returned to their occupations, and were pros- perous again. Mr. Littlefield's meetings were fuller, and his labors better appreciated. The children returned to tui neg- lected Sunday-school. The memory of their former teacher — the good and beautiful, but now so sadly unfortunate, Mrs. Durham — lived in their minds as a sweet relic of the past, to awaken in them bitter regrets at their own defection, which had been to her a cause of so much anxiety. Charles found his father wonderfully altered in appear- ance. His long-continued q(/urse of dissipation after that first fatal night, and, most of all, his share in the sad catastrophe of the Durham family, preyed upon his mind, and he rarely ever smiled. His downfall had deprived him of the high position which he had enjoyed in town, and made him an object of loathing to himself. Mrs. Douglass and Charles did all they could to reassure him. They saw, they felt, that the evil of his case did not so much consist in his present occasional aberrations, as in those habits of what is called temperate drinking, wherein the appetite originated which was now so uncontrollable. That in which the wrong really lay had made him respectable, a boon companion, a fine gen- tleman, whose society was courted, and who was deemed '% w 124 MAPLETOIT; OR, 'l i .* every way worthy of respect and confidence. But the con- sequences, wherein he was comparatively innocent, and more to be pitied than blamed, caused him to be despised and abhorred. His wife and son took more just views of the sub- ject, and never remitted their kindness to him, even when most deteriorated and degraded. They felt and deplored the wreck of a husband and father which tue drinking customs of society had entailed upon them. But, inasmuch as this was their unhappy lot, in common with thousands of other families, they felt it a call in Providence to watch over him, to bear with his infirmities, to alleviate his suflferings, to for- tify him against temptation, and to do their utmost to repair the evil which society and the laws had done upon one in whom they had so tender an interest. This was right. There is nothing left to the unhappy victims of the drinking customs and license laws of society but to bide their time, while they pray, with the souls under the altar, *' How long, Lord, holy and true, dost thou not judge and avenge our blood on them that dwell on the eai'th ! " ;. ; The person of Charles, during his years of absence, had grown into manly proportions, with a head that bore marks of a vigorous intellect, a countenance of fine expression, and an eye through which flashed the fire of his soul. The reserve of manhood had succeeded to the loquacity of youth, and he was now demure and taciturn, especially on all sub- jects relating to himself and his future course. He courted retirement, and spent much of the year of his stay at home in his old study, extending his reading and investigations on various subjects ; and what time he was not there he was out among the groves, hills and ravines, of his beloved Mapleton. All the places endeared to him by recollection he visited over and over again ; — For^^st Point, where Tooney was MORS WORE FOR THE MAINE LAW. 125 exhumed ; the ruined house which the Harcourts had occupied during their short stay in town, thinking of little Sarah, of whom he had never heard since their departure, and dwelling fondly on the associations of days now departed never more to return. To him itVas enchanted ground. Occasionally he would enter the circle of former friends, but always with a brow clouded by care, and a look of anxious thoughtfulness. The part he took in conversation appeared to cost him an effort, and he contrived to elude inquiry in reference to his own purposes or prospects. He was deeply meditating his future plans in life. I *' ; . ■"' .. Thus time passed till the second autumn after his return home, when he gave his parents to understand that he should adhere to a secret but long-cherished purpose of entering the ministry. Unpropitious as he felt his relations to be as the son of a drunkard, and galling as that thought was to his towering spijrit, — a thought whijh had done more than any- thing else to keep him back so long, — still, the obligations to the ministerial calling had so wrought themselves into his convictions, that he could frame to himself no su£Scient excuse for turning to a secular occupation. Messrs. HoUiston and Littlefield were called in to advise as to what steps should be taken in the case. The former gentleman advised that, with the approval of his church, Charles should betake himself at once to some retired place, and there exercise his talents in teaching the people religion, in visiting from house to house, in promoting schools, and otherwise advancing the cause of piety and intelligence. He said " that a professional educa- tion for such a calling should not be sought till the heart had been fully tested and the ability proved ; that the haste with which young men, of feeble capacity and no intelligent obli- gation to the work, had of late years been placed upon a course 11* 126 iCAPLETON; OB, I: ii: of education for which they had no fitness, had filled the pul- pits with a mere apology of men, educated asses to bray noD'< sense by rule ; and that there were hundreds of uneducated farmers and mechanics, whose piety and talents fitted them to go directly from their secular occupations into the pulpit, and do there a far more efieotive work. Even ability,' he added, "is no guarantee of success in a work which depends so entirely upon a certain moral and spiritual fitness, which no education can impart, and no process can satisfactorily ascer- tain but that of actual trial. Besides, there is no training that your son can enjoy which promises so much to himself as an actual contact with human ignorance and misery, with a view to their alleviation. This, if anything, will school a young man's heart and character, to act as the cure of souls. Practice makes perfect." Mr. and Mrs. Douglass fully concurred in these views, nor were Mr. Littlefield and his church backward in giving their consent. Forestdale was selected as the scene of Charles' present efibrts. The people were exceedingly destitute, and he opened schools among them, both secular and Sabbath, and expounded tc them the word of God. They were poor and miserable, and therefore the more readily fiocked around him as their spiritual adviser. To a young man for years accustomed to literary society and pursuits, the seclusion of a hidden aud unlettered neighborhood is sombre and oppress- ive. Some alleviation may be found from books ; or, if he be a spiritual man, from the communion of devout hearts. But young Douglass had not gone there for the sake of books ; nor was his mind sufficiently relieved of the corroding anxieties which had so long preyed upon him and >his family, to be happy in communion either with himself, his fellow- men, or his God. He had no power to resist the current of MORS WORK FOB THB MAINE LAW. 427 nnhappy sensations, which, from the one ever-present, ever- corroding idea of being a drunkard's sou, had worn for itself a channel through his heart. ' ''^ ^- Those who describe the red, bloated face, the watery and inflamed eye, the diseased and trembling frame, the ruined char- acter and blighted fortune, of the drunkard himself, — or even the withered plant of conjugal love in the bosom of his wife, or the wretchedness of her infant group, — as evincing the w« »rst evils of intemperance, have but gross and imperfect views of the subject. It is after this group have grown to manhood, to take their place in society as young ladies and gentlemen, that the climax of the damning process is reached. Then that wife feels over again all her pangs, with added strength, in the disgrace of her children ; while they, fluttering for a time with the vain endeavor to rise above the domestic infamy, too often settle back into the habits of the father, and drown an incurable sorrow in the maddening cup which had pro- duced it. These feelings of disgrace and infamy, at being a drunkard's son, acting upon a soul of towering ambition, and too little disciplined to restraint and control, made the bosom of young Douglass more desolate than any hermit's cell, more tem- pestuous than a chaotic world. He rather yielded himself to them, and found a dismal pleasure in brooding over his pains. He spent much time in the thickest of the forests, uttering ejaculations of anguish and woe, and struggling for relief, but without power to surmount his mind-consuming grief. And, when kept within doors by the howling of autumnal Storms, he would lie prostrate, hours together, upon the floor of his room, wishing for death as the end of a disgraced and burdened life. His nerves were so excited and enfeebled, by the severity of past studies and conflicts, and by a morbid tfi. 128 -:( %% MAPLBTON: OR, 861180 of the social disadvantages under which he labored, that he oould not sleep; longing for a fever, or some organic disease, to interrupt the course of those excruciating thoughts, which he feared would otherwise drive him to madness. Though he continued his services among the people as usual, so that they saw no signs of the fearful tempest raging within, except in his haggard and emaciated looks, of which they took little notice, thinking them the badges of his profession; yet, whenever he came before them, it was with a sense that they were all thinking " there comes the drunkard's son," and with a certainty that he could not face them long enough to say a word. Though there was no real cause for all this in anything said or thought among the people, yet his mind had become morbid on a subject which had so long corroded within, and there was no such thing as shaking off the incubus. And, indifferent as might be his public efforts, it always seemed to him a matter of surprise, when he closed, that he had done as well as he had. Speaking had the effect, for the time being, of diverting his mind from its horrid ideas."''*'-"- ' ■ '' ' ' . '" " - He became, at length, convinced that he must either sink into nothing, and disappoint the hopes of his friends, or else make an effort to dismiss a subject which had taken such hold upon him. He resolved on the latter course ; bethinking him- self that no blame could attach to him on account of his father's habits, and that, as to the disgrace brought upon him as a consequence of them, that might prove a salutary thorn in the flesh, to gain the ends of moral discipline, and increase his usefulness. He found it easier to think this, however, than to repair the breach upon his mental and nervous con- stitution which had been already inflicted. As a curative process, therefore, he resolved upon three things : first, visit- ii MORS WORK FOR THB MAINS LAW. i^ )) iDg theiEifflioted, aad doing the offices of humanity ; second, taking frequent rides on horseback ; and third, trusting more implicitly in his heavenly Father, for the management of his domestic sorrow and all its consequences. The first made him familiar with those who had far greater causes of sorrow, and taught him reconciliation by the contrast ; the second improved his health and spirits ; and the third shielded him under a higher power, insomuch that, under this regimen, his spirits soon began to acquire tone, his feelings elnstidty, and the roses of youth to bloom upon his cheek, and peace and contentment to beam in his eye. The happiness he conferred on others reacted upon himself, and ho found in the im- proving condition of the people unmingled satisfaction. Things went on thus till late in October, when, the day being unusually fine, he continued his morning ride full ten miles from his lodgings. Here the country dropped down to a level full sixty feet lower, to which, as he descended, he saw the smoke curling up among the tree-tops on his right, while directly before him a magnificent plantation opened upon his view. The smoke, he soon saw, came from a spacious mansion, with piazzas encircling it, and an observatory surmounting the top, which commanded a view of the whole plain in which the plantation was located. The lanes, fields, and houses of the tenantry, were arranged with reference to the mansion, immediately around which were original forest- trees in clusters, with cleared spaces between, occupied by lawns and gardens. As the morning was mild and misty, the smoke from the houses of the distant tenantry was slowly rising, circling round and round as it mingled with the pen- dent clouds. Flocks of sheep and herds of cattle were performing their mOrning gambols over the rich pastures which extended across the ample circumference of the plain. ■\ 1 I ! !1 180 MAPLBTON; OR, Douglass was enraptured at the view, and, midway of the declivity, he sat, poised in his saddle, gazing upon this enchanting picture of country life. Fatigued with his ride, he could not resist the temptation of alighting at the base of the hill, and paying his respects to the family at the mansion, in order to acquaint himself more fully with the possessors of such a beautiful domain. Fastening his horse at the gate which opened upon the lawn that extended back to the mansion, a distance of about fifteen rods, ho walked leisurely along between rows of mast-trees, which were dropping their ripe fruit in great abundance. As he arrived opposite the garden, he heard the soft tones of a female voice saying, " John, jbe careful, man! don't break my roots ! " " Indade, miss, it '11 pain me much to destroy these pretty flower-bearers'," said a grulT voice, in Hibernian accent. " Charming ! excellent ! " added the female voice. " All safe ! You have done right well, my good fellow ; not a root is broken. It would be a pity not to use well what adds so much beauty to our home." .v.,,^. *i .. ,., ^^ • "An' faith," said the man, "I 'm thinkin' as much." By this time Charles had reachv,d a point to see the actors in this dialogue, who he ?\\ndi to be a laboring man, with a basket of bulbous roots, and a young lady, who seemed to be superintending their removal to a place of safety for the winter. The lady, in a neat morning dress and straw hat, strongly impressed him with an idea of extreme beauty, gentleness and serenity. Her complexion was so clear, her eye so soft and yet so brilliant, her form so sylph-like and symmetrical, her expression so sweet and intelligent, and her movements so natural and graceful, that Douglass stood entranced,— more charmed by the tenant than he had been / . - MORS WORK FOR THE MAINE LAW. 181 by her home. At that instant she caught his oje, and he nodded a resrxictful "good-morning." Sho replied by a slight inclination of the head, a little confused at his unexpected appearance. ''Excuse this interruption, madam," said Charles. "In taking a morning ride, I have been so much attracted by the uncommon beauty of this place, that I could not resist the temptation to a nearer inspection." " Sir, you ore quite welcome at Terracegrccn," said the lady. . ; ^ ■ - ', ; " Your family must have settled here at au early period." "No, only a few years ago." " But how should it be possible in a few years to raise a wilderness to such a pitch of cultivation?" -■ ■■■ , ; " My father, sir, had tenants on the farm several years before we occupied it ourselves ; and, having a great fondness for rural pursuits, he has done much since he came to beautify the place." '"V^* v>' x. " . .''■ " Your father must be a man of taste. I see on this plantation what, I confess, has before occurred to me as a picture of imagination, occasional remnants of forest-trees in clusters over the cleared parts, to diversify the scenery. The axe, as a general thing, you know, takes all." " '> " My father took the idea from English scenery. lie was travelling abroad when our tenants began to clear the farm, and he wrote, ordering them to leave no space large enough for a field bare of these shady clusters." " How opportune the idea ! They are a great ornament to the place." " They are more ; they relieve the heat of summer to our horses, cattle and sheep.'' ^ ■\ ,1 ^|;^-# ''^^aplbton; or, «^,^^^^:- " To be sure," replied Charles ; " and thej/ are entitled to have their comfort considered, as well as our own." " Yes, I see not how we can answer it to our consciences to be neglectful of them, when they are so faithful in serving us. Their approach to us is far nearer than ours to the supreme Blenefactor on whom all alike depend." " Such sentiments are the brightest ornament of your sex end your person," replied Charles, with an impulse to be complimentary without knowing how. p| r^'^?gw*^Fi* " The right of the thing is more to me than the ornament," she saiu, a little doubtful as to the motive of his remark.; r "No doubt, no doubt," added Douglass, blushing with apprehension, lest he had* too freely betrayed his admiration of her person. "■-•: :- .^:-zr':hM.',^ ^^^ ■ ■'■' t/i.^^M- •«• K:,uik^. ' .rjdpr^ . 1 " Will you please walk in, sir? " she said, moving towards the house. %K^4'r\:%i.^:i^; ■■ f^ "I thank you," said Charles, following ; " I am too much charmed by the place and its occupant to refuse such a request." "■^'^' •^i'^^'t:^^'-^''^'''^:J'--':V.:l.r^:i:w., ■3S^ite*:4i|:rt,,.>U .di " Compliments are cheap things," she added, still doubtful whether he was in earnest. i •> i^s^^x*^:; '_.-.■ '•' "You mistake, if you think me capable of using them insincerely. What I feel I speak* Pardon the freedom jn a stranger." " • '" ^" ■■'" ' "''' "''■ ■ -■ -t-^---"-" '- ■ ' "Never mind," she replied, stepping upon the balcony, where they were met by the melodious notes of a canary. " Tiny, sweet Tiny ! how soft and cheerful is your morning song! You are happy, — happy, and love to make us so." " You are fond of birds? " "Who is not fond of birds?" V *' " Did it never strike you as cruel to depriye them of Uberty ?"•..,..,., „.„. ._.,.,...._ , ,, kf*v^ MORE WORK FOR THE MAINE LAW. -'« * « Perhaps so," said she thoughtfully. " Still, habit makes confinement second nature to them, and I believe my Tiny as happy as any bird in his native forest; " to which the bird seemed to assent by pouring forth one of his most joyous strains. "If he is not, it will not be for lack of an attentive mistress." '' True, I could not neglect him. It would be an ungrate- ful return for the pleasure he affords. Be seated, sir," said she, showing him into the parlor. > . * * No, no, I must return ; I have afrw-dy exceeded my* time. " ' " Sir, we cannot consent to your leaving so abruptly. Our breakfast is this moment on the* table. I will call papa ; he will be happy to speak with you." « With that she ran to call her father, while Douglass glanced around the room in which he was seated, and was struck with the air of neatness, simplicity and elegance, which seemed to preside over all he saw. In a few moments she returned, with evident discomposure at learning that her father had been called out on public busine«is, and would not break&st at home that morning. » a' "I am surprised to find myself deserted by my father," she said, upon returning; "he has left me to breakfast alone." .....--• ■ ..>.. -. .-.v ■.-■*,> .-,^,.. " I think, my kind hostess, you must now exc^ise me; and, with your leave, I will call again, and make the acquaintance of a father whoso daughter has inspired me with so many sentiments of gratitude." " Gratitude ! no, if you do not breakfast with me." ' " Well, since you insist upon it, I must yield." The breakfast-bell now rang, and, rising, she conducted him to the break&st-room. Douglass was surprised to find no 12 w \ y 184 one at the table but the yoang lady and himself, and re- marked, " Your family is small." There are none in it but my father, myself ancl t^& (I ';*":tW? She blushed at this speech, and even Charles was confused ; for his language never before took a complimeni,<\ry turn toward a young lady. But his character partook too much of sim- plicity and impulse to admit of his disguising his feelings. Besides, the freedom of conversation on both sides arose from a sort of home-feeling between them, — from a secret im- pression of previous acquaintance. The ca^es are not infrequent in which a familiarity at once arises between those who are linked by no tie of recollection, because the heart's facility of reviving former impressions is greater than the n MOBE WORE FOR THB MAINE LAW. 185 "V.^,. ^r-' mind's power of tnxing the continuity of its ideas. This illusion is sometimes produced by the similarity of the new e<;quaintance to an old and tried friend, leading strangers upon a first meeting to glide into a familia:rity at which they themselves are surprised. There may also exist between persons in nature such a fitness of taste as to lead to this result, in spite of calculation and endeavor to maintain greater reserve. Love at first sight is by no means impossible. ' Breakfast concluded, Charles, about to take his leave, remarked, "When shall I have the pleasure of another such entertainment?" / r. ^^i^-- ■ .-■ ; ■ ''" I was about to ask you to call and make my father's acquaintance, but — but — " ;^ . ' ' " 0, I see; my promptitude in forestalling your invitation embarrasses you. I ask to come for your sake, and you was about to invite me for your father's sake. Perhaps some third person might interfere with my request, but none can object to yowrs." "It is enough that the parties directi'y concerned are satisfied," she replied ; "let others take care of themselves. When -will you come to see both my father and Twe, if you please?" Taking out his memorandum-book, Douglass looked a moment along the line of his engagements, saying, or rather thinking abstractedly, "This is Monday ^ well, Thursday, — Thursday is a great way oflf, — will Thursday morning please you?" J "Yes, if you will arrange to pass the day with us." " A day ! Would it were a week, in such an Eden, with such an Eve!" . , ^. . --,..... , " 0, you mock me by your flattery ! " \ ' ^ ^ Yj " You will never say that, when you are better acquainted •■/ ! 1 pp lae -with me ; so I must trust to my future good behavior to redeem my character. Good-morning." H:^;?Jf^qErf«t^^|^. "Good-morning," she replied, with an expression of simplicity and innocence that would have given him pleasure, but for the feeling which it awakened of the gulf that existed between him, a drunkard's son, and one' of a character and associations which seemed to him so far above his own. The disadvantages of such a relationship are never ' o keenly felt as when they come in to crush the heart's fondest hopes and aspirations. We can endure its poverty, the scorn and neglect of society on its account, and almost any other of the accruing disadvantages, better than the barriers which it interposes to an a&ir of the «heart. Vf;.'-i'i '''''>;.«■',">- ''■■!■ -'''^'' ,-* vt, :-.^-i f<^-"i'- . -..'L- CHAPTER XI. THE INIQUITY OF A FATHER VISITED UPON HIS SON. ^^',ir *' My spirits, as in a dream, are all bound up. My father's loss, the weakness which I feel, The wreck of all my firieuds, or this man's threats To whom I am subdued, are but light to me. Might I but through my prison once a day ■ >• Behold this maid." — Shakspease. M The impression of previous acquaintance, which was the real cause of the freedom of the foregoing interview between Charles Douglass and the young lady therein introduced to the reader, existed in both their minds as the rehc of a forgotten dream. But, with all their efforts, they could not revive the re- collection of each other. A mysterious enchantment hung round this new acquaintance in the mind of Douglass, and he f MORE WORK FOR THE MAINE LAW. 18T would ait muBing for hours together, like a man upon whom Bome half-formed conception of future good has hegun to dawn, and he dwells upon it continually, lest the fugitive idea should escape, and merge him in his former darkness. When Thursday came, he was up earlier than usual, and mounted his horse with more than his wonted elasticity. Even the noble horso seemed to partake of his enthusiasm, — prancing and neighing, and looking wistfully in the direction of the plantation. A servant was in waiting at the gate to conduct him to the man- sion ; and, as Douglass advanced up the lawn, he was more than ever struck with the beauty of the place. The rocky defile along the north of the house seemed to render it im- pregnable against wintry winds, imparting to the whole an aspect of snug comfort, peculiarly propitious to a Northern imagination; while the expanding plain that opened to the south was beautifully diversified with groves, meadows, broad acres of green and luxuriant wheat, and all the charms of a highly-cultivated plantation. His horse he delivered to the man in waiting, and, being promptly answered at the door, was soon seated in the parlor. As the daughter had no means of introducing her guest, she thought it prudent to send her father to reconnoitre, who accosted Douglass with *' Sir, good- morning; be seated, sir." "Good-morning," rejoined Douglass. "I was so much struck with the beauty of your plantation, the other day, that I begged of your daughter the privilege of making the acquaintance of its owner." , . .^ **Our house is always open to those who deserve otr respect." ,. ^ ^ " In the absence of such desert, I could not hope to com- mand respect from a gentleman of your discernment." ,,^, .^ "I harbor no Buapicions, — you are welcome," added the 12* I 188 M^:^^ MAPLBION; OB, }ii -^aiLi-- me'; host, at the same I'ime casting upon his guest a searching look ; and, detecting the scar left by the deer on Charles' temple, he exclaimed, " Bless me ! is this you, Charles Douglass?" ■'''■'■' " ■^'■i'^ '■■••'•' '^>''f' /».'?^^•^^^■•i:i^tM^:Jil■v;|. iiM«,..-i/.,: ^ " That is my ?iame, sir ; but pray how should you know " Was you iiot struck senseless, some years since, by the blow of a deer on your temple 7 " • "Well, have you forgotten the agency which one Har- court and hia daughter had, on that occasion? '' " No, I can never forget it ! And you are that person ? " " The same. I should have known more of you, and your family, uut that I was called to attend to the building of this house. I believe you saw more of my daughter." , " Mr. Harcourt, you are greatly changed in appearance, — much more corpulent, — and I should not have mistrusted the identity. I felt that I knew your daughter ; but she was then a child and is now a woman, and I could not quite recall her. Your man John, too, I thought I had seen ; but Irish laborers are so much alike I can never tell them apart. I have been in a maze ever since I was here the other day, but now all is plain. I owe my life, sir, to you and Canaudeh." " Canaudeh ! yes, that 's a noble Indian. I suppose you know that I have him here on my farm? " " Canaudeh here ! I thought he was at Green Bay. What providence has brought him here ? " ;' ' , .■»: "He did emigrate, but longed so much for the country of his fathers' sepulchres, that last spring he returned, and was lingering about in the woods of this neighborhood like a man among the tombs, obtaining a precarious subsistence by hunt- ing. I pitied him, and, at the suggestion of my daughter, f i t\ MORE WORE FOR THE MAINE LAW. 189 bfferod him a home on my plantation, and a supply from my table. And he has accepted it,— at least, so much of the time as he does not give to hunting." " Has he learned to talk English yet ? " ''He rarely attempts it, though he understands much that is said to him. My daughter, who has come to be of a pious turn of mind, and visits him every week to talk her doubtful notions in his ear, thinks he understands all. But I doubt it ; for it is more than I can do." ' ; -^ '^- : < r V " Then he has maintained his pledge, I suppose ? " said Charles. :■:-;-•. ,..•.'...■'■•,.■'>..',-■ J'- ...'::■'■■..: uc ■■■ , "What pledge?" inquired Harcourt, with a sneer which indicated that he knew without asking. ' " The pledge of total abstinence. Have you not heard the story?" ■^- ■:■ : ;^ ■'"■'■' ■ ':■ : " No, no ! " said Harcourt indignantly. " I did not think t Ganaudeh such a confounded fool as to sell his freedom to f these cursed fanatics." " Fool or no fool, it saved him from the fate of his tribe. Every man, woman and child of them had died of drunken- ness, directly or indirectly ; and the old chief was rapidly going the same way, when he saw the evil, and came under a solemn pledge never to drink another drop that intoxicates, though there was at the time little hope that he would keep it." " That explains the old ninny's conduct the other day. I said to him, ' Oanaudeh, this beer is excellent ; will you taste it 1 ' when he stared, and at length said, in his broken way, * You me not know ; fire-water devil, drink and <^ Indian ipake mad. Me know Indian well. Taste beer, then taste rum, then get drunk, then fight and kill, then in street , lie and get siqk, then die.' Then he added, with tears, ' My fathers, my brothers, ugh, ugh ! ' — which means something m I I ■'■:-r T^ "J?; #■•«•'■ '%MV«.: J, 08,, .)^mm beyond my depth. — ' No give Indian drink no more ! ' I thought it queer, but did not understand it before." S^^ij^ >^ij " I think you will now confess him a wise man.''>j . ?.tot*i '' No, he is a fool, and so is any man who has not self- command enough to drink without drinking to his injury." " Is your daughter at home? " inquired Douglass, desiring to change the subject, and avoid all seeming rudeness to a man in his own house. . i^. j^.. . "Go, call your mistress," said Harcourt to a servant in waiting. Miss Harcourt soon appeared, and the young couple were formally introduced by the father. A feeling of natural embarrassment came over them at meeting as gentleman and lady, who had previously known each other only as children. "My little friend, as I used to call you," said Charles, " how little did I suspect, the other morning, that I was breal^- fasting with you!" " And I was as much in the dark as yourself, though, I confess, a mysterious impression of previous acquaintance lingered round my mind." " So I felt, and have taxed my brain not a little to identify you. And Canaudeh too here, — how strange ! " , " Yes, Canaudeh, and no more the bloody warrior, but the true Christian." ;.;^ £r;.,>;\,,-a4,^..-v'^;^,.vr-:.;,.. ,: ...•/;; .-::;■.. y " That favorite idea of yours, my daughter, is harmless, whatever may be said of its truth." ,...; " You do not deem it impossible, Mr. Harcourt ? " said Charles. %.''f .>?iv'<;->':.Jr'^j'4r-s^;' ^— ^'; ■'- ' ''-^ .a ?:^ ■ " I am no judge in such matters. I leave those to deter-^ mine them who can. I only say I cannot, and I am no hypocrite." ■ ; -■«,•: ^ ^ ■. ^■ , .■ _:s.v:. '-r,>,i^.?: t;4^i^0m-. ■ "Do you not remember Samuel Gilfort?" inquired Miss Harcourt. *•' ^ 'a, ; f / :- MCKB WORK FOR THE MAINS LAW. 141 ,ii>iif; lit > '' Yes, as great a cheat as ever lived. So think the Maple* ton people," said Charles. ** Are you sure of that? " said Harcourt. " Perfectly sure ; as sure as a tree is known by its fruits." " Well, he has made a great figure in the world," said Miss Harcourt. " And seems very much improved," added her father " What ! have you any direct intelligence of him, of late 7 " inquired Douglass. "I? Yes," said Harcourt ; " I meet him daily." * "What! in this neighborhood?" inquired Douglass, with surprise. "Yes, in this neighborhood, and several times in this house." " Is it possible, — Samuel Gilfort in this neighborhood, and in this house recently ! Where are his colony, his cosmopolis, his palace, and the possessions he is said to have acquired in the for West?" • - . f; --^^ " 0, I learn he has left them in a prosperous way, for the purpose of relieving himself &om the weight of his great affairs. Princes find it necessary to rusticate, to recruit their exhaustei^nergies," added Harcourt, laughing. " Is it not wonderfuohat he should have the control of twenty thousand hands in building his seat of empire ? " ' ''" " '■ ' "Wonderful, if true," said Douglass. " I do not believe he has half thct number. Stories magnify, like flocks of pigeons, with the extent of their flight. Pray how does he appear?" ^ " Like a gentleman,— that he does," said Harcourt. " Two or three servants, apostles, or s&.vetaries, attend him. His person has grown into graceful proportions, and his carriage : i ,..,11 I, y-J ' I r' W ,'l/. maplbton; OB, ia manly ftnd dignified, ^hej even talk of him for our next President." ''■■"' "' ■ ' , '' ^^ ^ ^-^''"r' ' " Our next President ! " said Douglass, Tvith a sneer. " Talk oT Lucifer as well ! Does he drink as much as ever 7 " "He is no drunkard, sir; he is always himself; he can stand as much as Alexander the Great, or any of his court. I think the more of him for that." " Dear father," said Sarah, ** how can you speak so 1 Dress, equipage and good living, have taken off the rough edges of his appearance ; hut he has the same snaky eyes, and the same sinister look, as ever ; and to me he seems more hateful than formerly in his poverty, because I am thinking of the frauds by which he has raised himself to his bad emi- nence ; and because strong drink does not produce in him the same degraded exterior as in some others, it does not prove that its moral or inward effects are any the less abhorrent." '' But what are the peculiar principles on which he hae gathered his colonists around him ? " inquired Douglass. '' They are a sort of mongrel combination of politics and religion. The first article is : Samuel Gilfort, the great light of the universe. This makes all others satellites, to revolve around him and do his bidding. Then, you have only to picture to yourself the course such a will as Gift's would be likely to take, in filling up the outlines of his creed, to undrrstand the whole. That he has the right to control every man's purse would naturally stand second. The rest is made up of a doggerel litany, hypocritical cant, and a round of cere- monies, in the formation of whidh Moses and Solon, Jesus and Voltaire, the Pope and Mahomet, Washington and Bene- dict Arnold, have lent their appropriate share of influence. It takes all kinds of bait to catch all kinds of fish, ^he more I MORE WORK FOR THE MAINE LAW. 148 ^ '»iK,. -4l.'^.' -i ^Vjl., ^v,^■1 .;!(-■ contradictory the compotinci, the more captivating to the mal- titude who are bom to be the dupes of the designing." " But perhaps he hopes by his visits to you to make a con- vert," said Douglass, laughing. - ';"^' ■ >* . " " No, not of me, but of Sarah. Me he knows to be incor- rigible ; but my pretty daughter, as he calls her, he supposes more susceptible in such matters." " Father, how can you speak of me in such an odious con- nection 7" said Sarah, with an expression of injured feeling. " Think not, my daughter," said Harcourt, with genuine tenderness, " that I am representing you, but him of whom Mr. Douglass is so curious to learn. His vile schemes, I know, can never touch you otherwise than with diligust." Breakfast was now announced, and Sarah, taking her father's arm, led him aside, to request that he should ask their visitor to say grace, as she knew, by a woman's instinct, that he must be a clergyman, in fact or in prospect. "How do you know there is any grace in him?" said Harcourt, facetiously. * " Papa, you know how I delight to please you, and do gratify me in this ! " " Certainly, my daughter, you shall be gratified." Accord- ingly the service was politely requested, and as promptly per- formed. Though Harcourt was an avowed infidel, yet it was his study and his life to please his daughter, whose position was directly the opposite of his own in this respect. No father could be more affectionate or assiduous. *' I admire your selecti&n of a place for building," said ^t Douglass. "It is not uncommon for farmers to perch their houses on the bleak point of the hills, where the winds do battle upon all that comes in their way. I confess the sight of such domiciles freezes me, even in the heat of summer. I 144 MAFLBTON; OR, choose to be hid, as you are, under this rocky defile, from those aerial enemies which attack us so fiercely in this climate." "It is true, sir, I have more respect for the gods of the air, Boreas, Notus and the like, than for all the saints in the calendar. I have made it the study of my life to guard against these princes of the air, by whom my fences are sometimes shattered, and my fields laid waste." " Well, you have been fortunate in locating your castle." " Our ideas of comfort," said Miss Harcourt, " take their cast from the climate in which we live. At the South, their houses can hardly be said to be places of protection against anything but sunbeams." " Yes, thei/ wait air ; we want protection against wind and cold," said Douglass. " Perhaps our confinement may be more favorable to civilization, though I confess I often sigh for the velvet atmosphere of those more voluptuous cli- mates. We have retirement and reading, however, to com- pensate our lack of the freedom of out-door life ; and, upon the whole, our condition is most favorable." >. " So tre think ; and so thinks the Esquimaux, who wraps himself in furs, and resorts to the snowy caverns of his native land, to spend his six months' winter on oil and seal's flesh, thanking his gods for a country so superior to all oth- ers," said Harcourt. ^^l » " Custom has, indeed, much to do with our predilections," replied Douglass. " Still, no one can doubt that temperate climates have greater ^vantages for individual and social elevation than any other. Facts are independent of local prejudices. The things which really ennoble mankind are found for the most part with us." ^ " How, then, should Egypt, the warmest ami most insalu- brious country in the world, have been ilfie cradle of European ' .i,,ri MORE WORK FOR THE MAINE LAW. 145 civilization?" said Harcourt. " Its colonists converted the Greeks from swine to men, and from living on acorns to quaff the generous cup and drink the flowing bowl." "Do you think the old Egyptians wine-bibbers?" in- quired Charles. ' . '. r»>r , "They must hav^ been, or they could not have been an elevated people," said Harcourt. "Where did refinement of sentiment ever grow up without wine?" •' •'■ ^ • ** " I remember," said Douglass, " the picture of a drunken man among the paintings or hieroglyphics of ancient Egypt, but never till now heard it mentioned as an evidence of refinement." ^ , . " Nor does papa think it so, more than Mr. Douglass," said Sarah. " He knows as well as the rest of us that it was not wine, but the Nile, that gave the Egyptians precedence in civilization. That 'lid the work of the plough, spade and hoe, ages before thuy were invented, which is reason enough for their early advancement." " Yes, Miss Harcourt, you have the right of it. The Nile was in itself a greater civilizer than all other outward agents. Wine debased the people, and undid the work the Nile had dorje." "Two against one," said Harcourt, "proves nothing. There never was a generous people that did not dip deep in ihe juice of the grape, from old Noah's drunken fit to this day. The old barbarian patriarchs before the flood knew nothing of this drink to cheer both God and man ; and hence, the old dolts, what were they fit for but to be drowned 1 As soon as the race learned from the ark-man how to make wine, they began to shoot ahead ; and Ham, stealing the art of bis father, went into Egypt, and gave it both wine and a name, as i -\ ^ 146 .|;\ MAPLBTON; OR^^^i;-/ .rgo.^'. ' '-»^ .-.T;*:?-!;, fl»i?'-V- you know it is called Cham, throughout the Old Testament, after this wayward son of Noah." " Your reasoning, sir, strikes me as more amusing than logical," said Dougla3S, laughing. .t I^s!^' '^ -SfJi^X " Well, you Christians are bound to speak well of Egypt, because it gave you your Moses and your laws," said Har- court. "''''■^■' ■ • •' ''■'^■-- "''^•'.■^>^'>'.. .• " God ga/e them to us, in spite of Egypt, you mean," said Charles. ■• ■■' '■>■-■■> " '"''■- . '•'"'" ■'"■"' .-■''■'y" " By the way, do you accept Homer's description of Egyptian Thebes as fact, or fiction? " inquired H!arcourt. " What description do you refer to ? " ' T'C * ' it " '■ A\yvrrri»(, o&i TrhurTO, fofxut n KTtifAeireL xuTAt ' :i " 0, father ! " said Sarah, mortified by this literary exhi- , bition, "do not give us these barbarous sounds ! " " Well, here you have it in the elegant English of Pope," replied her father, still anxious to maintain his credit for lit- erature: ■ ■' ''' ' ■ '/ :- "Not all proud Thebes' unrivalled walls contain, w V The world's great empress on the Egyptian plain. That spreads her conquests o'er. a thousand states. And pours her heroes through a hundred gates ; Two hundred horsemen, and two hundred cars, / From each wide portal issuing to the wars." ' t ' ' . ■■■ ^' ■ ■:■ '}{■ '.''-■'■ ■ '■ ' ' '■ ' .', n " Really, Mr. Harcourt, you have reserved some time for literature amid the cares of business," said Douglasa,^^ "I remember a thing or two of my youth," said Har- / / V\ ^'S-r--*?;- '■■ #;. MORE WORK FOR THE MAINE LAW. 147 ' '* I cotosider this descnption <)f Homer a literal matter-of-iact. The present ruins of Thebes prove this," added Douglass - - "Dear father, please excuse my interrupting ; but I have an engagement," said Sarah. Her engagement turned oufc to be with Oanaudeh, in fulfilling which she invited Charles to accompany her. She retired to get herself in readiness, and soon returned, followed by a lad with a basket of nice things for their favorite son of the forest, and bringing also two fish-poles, with hook and line, that they might give an idle hour to angling. " You will smile at my apparatus, so unusual in this land of wheat, and cattle, and labor. But I learned to amuse myself in this way at my boarding-school on the Atlantic ; and we have a babbling brook abounding in trout on our plantation, where I sometimes spend a leisure hour." ' ■■ ^•^•'-■-' -^■^-- --■ '^.v-..-^^ -■■ '^ ,/;- ;•. " A happy thought. No better could be imagined. But I am unskilled in business of this kind, and must learn of you." " Very well ; I can teach you to catch trout." Thus fur- nished, away they flew, leaving Harcourt to his Occupations, whose eye followed the airy footsteps of his daughter with all a father's pride and joy. She ran meandering through the shrubbery and lawns of the plantation, while Charles followed with his delicious burden, feeling for once the buoyancy of young spirits, and the delight of an overflowing heart. With all the excelleL3es of purtanic piety, does it not take too little account of the necessity of recreation to health and happiness 1 Douglass had made a conscience of brooding over his sorrows, as if that might be some atonement for his own faults, or some relief for the unfortunate habits of hia father. He journalized, struggled with irresistible emotions, and gave himself to unrelaxed labor and unmitigated asperity, not considering how much he needed a counter-irritant, as the physicians say, or \ Hi \ l; Ji ■>/■:■. t a MAPLETON; OB, excitement from another qoarter and in another channel, to diversify his emotions, and turn his mind from the horrid ideas which preyed like vampires on his spiritual being. Di- version was his great want ; though, alas ! it could not cure him, exposed as he was to the o£Scious intermeddling of those who were jealous of his happiness, and bent upon spoiling it, as we shall see, by driving him into, not the imaginary, but the real, disadvantages of being a drunkard's son. Arriving at the border of the unbroken wilderness, Miss Harcourt paused, and, pointing in the distance to Canaudeh's wigwam, she said, "ikfy way lies through this forest, which is more convenient than climbing the fences of the open field. But, Mr. Douglass, you must follow haid after me, or you will be lost among the thick trees." ,„, ^ *' No, I shall not lose you, unless you vanish, like wood- nymphs, who are said to be rather coy of being seen by men." "Well, nymph or no nymph, if you lose me, it shall be your own fault." , , , i,.. „ .^ " I take you at your word, — lead on." With that, she plunged into the gloom of the forest, turning now this way and now that, to avoid the impassable thickets, while he pur- sued like a hound on the track of a hare, and was pleased to find everywhere the signs of her former footsteps on a simi- lar errand of love. • " Here we are at last," she said, /' and Canaudeh within, I see by his dog." ' Charles was sensibly afiected, as he approached the savage, by the vivid recollection which it revived of that night of nights, when his sable form was first reveakil to him amid the nocturnal gloom of the forest, and when, but for his well- aimed gun, he would have died on tLe spot. Often, in his subsequent days of agony, had he regretted Canaudeh's inter- < ,;'> MORE WORE FOR THfi MAINE LAW. 146 » lerenoe, sus then the panther would have soon put him out of all worldly misery. .,. ^ • " V; a"^' h '^^ ;- ^'« ■-; ■ *'What an humble house," said Douglass, as they ap- proached the wigwam, " for one too good for a palace ! " ^ " None too humble, since it makes him happiei* than a pal- ace could. Happiness, Mr, Douglass, is what the heart craves ; and why should the reality be sacrificed to the appearance ? You know how tenacious the Indians are of this wild mode of life." - •■ ^ -^'' ' -^''^^ • -^--^' - "Yes, the white captive who lives long among them becomes also so attached to it as to be with difficulty dis- suaded from it. His rude freedom, once tasted, intoxicates the feelings, and not unfrequently make^ civilized life tasteless and insufferable." . The barking of the dog had by this time brought Canau- deh to the door, and, seeing his benefactress, his countenance beamed delight ; but, upon discovering that she was accon- panied by a stranger, he relapsed into his usual reserve, till his practised eye recognized his quondam friend, which Doug- lass, perceiving, rushed to his arms, when a 'greeting ensuod as tender as between father and son. The savages e-re remarkable for never forgetting a friend. All the sym 3a- thies of the chief's noble soul for once gushed up ; and the remembrances which mtervened between this and their last meeting, including his painful migration to the distant west and his late return, caused the mingled tears of agony and of love for once to trickle down his brawny cheeks. And — a rare circumstance for him — he exclaimed, in broken Eng- lish, "Me bliss," — putting his hand upon his heart, — " Great Spirit me tank ; him great good ; me see my dead boy; bravo! — him. grow like tall pine." The last remark ^ 13* "TT- 150 BiAPLBTON; OB, ^^ ^^^tJa referred to tlie manly proportions into which Charles had grown since he last saw him. ,^ *^ 0, Canaudeh, these sentiments of pious gratitude from your lips are like music to my ears ! " said Douglass, with emotion. ..' .,;,-;;,«^.^^^=-^.- ..■^. vv^^-*- ^,. The noble savage then, stretching up his tall form to itsfull length, while his long gray locks waved in the wind, laid one hand on the head of Sarah, and with the other pointed to heaven, to signify that there was his destined home, and she was the one who had taught him the way. The first gush of feeling passed, the Indian relapsed into his wonted silence, while Miss Harcourt went on with her usual task of making him understand a portion of God's word. The lesson of this morning was the scene of Gethsemane, which, as she pro- ceeded to unfold it to his view, threw an air of solemn devOr tion over his features ; and, pointing to an uprooted oak, he ' showed by signs that, as the winds had rudely dealt with that, so he should soon fall, as the only relic of his tribe ; — but it would be to find salvation by Him who thus suffered in the garden, and expired upon the cross. "How my heart bleeds at the injuries which this noble race has suffered at our hands.! " said Charles, as they left the wigwam. " We have given them our inventions, without teaching them how to use them. We have given them rum and gunpowder, but without the gospel. Poor fellow ! he seems not to be insensible to his wrongs." "Insensible? No, he feels them keenly. His red brethren also feel them. But our wrong, I think, does not so much consist in withholding the gospel, — because, from the days of their apostle Eliot to this time, we have done much to Chris- tianize them, — but in not living it, in not practising it, in our intercourse with them. Besides, alcohol to jt savage appetite / / / MORE WORK FOR THB MAINE LAW. 161 is more certain death than arsenic ; for it begets a fatal thirst, which the latter does not. They can taste the one without craving it to their death, but not the other." "Yes, yes; alcohol has swept from this continent the noblest of all the races," said Douglass with foehng^ derived from his own sad experience. ' "' ' " The severest part of my task, Mr. Douglass, has been to impress Ganaudeh with the difference between Christianity and Christians. As soon as he took hold on this, and learned to look at Christ and the gospel as distinct from the white race, his heart was open to the truth and love which shine in the character of our Saviour." '' And the same is true of all men. Christianity has in it the force of universal conviction. It is a religion of love ; and love to the soul is what light is to the eye. It subdues the untractable, softens the obdurate, and does more than the fabled harp of Orpheus, which stayed the flow of rivers, made savage beasts forget their wildness, mountains dance to its strains, and charmed the prince of hell into clemency. ! the love of Christianity, as disconnected from the animosity of Christians, is a miracle-worker in the cause of virtue and civilization." " I like the temperance pledge, Mr. Douglass, but I am satisfied that that alone could not save Canaudeh from a drunkard's grave. Christian principle must come to its sup- port ; and mental, moral and social excitements, must supply the place of the bottle." *' But, without the pledge of total abstinence, what can they do 7 It is healing a wound without extracting its viru- lence, and thus leaving it to break out again. One daily dram is enough to oreak the ties of principle, mental excite- ment, and of social or religious influence. I know it, I know '^. 152 ^^^:afc^%APLftTO»; OH, t^, it, Miss Harcourt ; I have seen it over and over again, and tiever more than in our dear Mapleton, trithin a few years past." " What has happened in your town? " . , . ^ "Ah me!" said Douglass, with a sigh, "I'll tell you another time ; it is too long a story before my lesson in fish- ing." " Well, here is our babbling brook; but we must follow it down to my favorite place. The fish are too coy for me else- where." "A babbling brook, indeed! How clear! how lively! how beautiful ! I wonder not that you love such a brook as this ; I should love it now, for its own sake, if I had not loved it before for yours." ■ , i "Here, then, in this deep place, I always succeed best; but I resign it to you, for your first lesson, and I will station myself near." " You are very kind," said he, preparing to drop his line. " No, stop ; here 's a drug that Canaudeh taught me to jBcent the bait with," she said, dropping a little upon his bait. "Now, here, here; disengage your line; do as I tell you, and be sure and move the hook gently, to take the attention of the fish. A moving mouse is far more tempting to pussy than a dead one." - ,, ^ • ' He obeyed orders, while she went a short distance, and commenced angling. In a few moments, out bounded her hook, with a pendent trout, all spotted with gold. " Charming preceptress, how shall I catch your art?" said Charles, laughing. " Good reason why you do not catch jt; you lire all the time looking round at me. You must keep your eyes upon your line, and move it as I tell you." '.'■ •.:-'p:-:,f^-''-*-^,;-iy'\:,'v. ' .v-ypv^'u ■"',.'!■ '■ ../-, ';■;■■ "^t^"V/5;;fj MOBB WOBK FOB THB MAINE LAW. 158 ' " This is the hardest part of my lesson. How can I help looking round?" " You rogue ! do as I tell you, and it will be easy," said she, laughing, when out leaped her hook again, ^ith another "Now, this is too bad ! It is not Canaudeh's medicine, but your witchery, thrt allures the fish. If I were a fish, I am sure I could not help biting such a hook." " 0, you must be complimentary! " she said, with a hearty laugh, in which he joined ; and the woods rang with the music of their mirth. " Your motions are not gentle enough, Mr. Douglass. You scare the fish by splashing your line." "Gentle? How can I be gentle enough for these timid little things ? My shadow scares them. They have basked too long in your superior gentleness to endure me." " You mock me, Mr. Douglass. I do not like your flat- tery." ' ■■■-;..:.■ '■ ■■■'-:'• ::>.;" ■ .-■■ y^' r -'' --.--^^r- :"' " I do not flatter; I speak sincerely ; my heart will out." "If your heart is out, keep your hand steady," she replied, gayly. " There comes another noble fellow ! Poor fishy ! is n't it too cruel ? " ' "Yes, Miss Harcourt; my heart is touched. I couldn't perpetrate such a deed." " Then your heart is about you yet, it seems ; and, I sup- pose, would be touched with joy, as much as it now is with pity, if the fish would deign to bite your hook. You must mend your ways before you arraign my cruelty." " You cruel? It's impossible. It is a mercy to the fish to die by such hands. There ! I have a bite ! " added Doug- lass, snatching his hook with such violence as to tear it from its fastenings, and the fish fell into the stream. " Well, let it go. I have a supply for both. One o'clock," \ ' ^1 :4ii ',1 ill II,, , \m f ■'!' i n m ^164 v\ ^'^^plet6n; Oil i r ^"i lidded she, looking at her watch. '' Dear the ! it is so late . Come, Mr. Douglass, we must go." ^ " What ! before I catch one fish 7 " " ' "'" ' ' "0, you will do better next time. You could not be expected to advance far in jour first lesson." " If I do not, it '11 not be the fault of my teacher." " Perhaps you are more successful in Peter's occupation of catching men," said Miss Harcourt, who suspected Doug- lass' destination. . ^"If that sliould prove true. Miss Harcourl, the cherished \hope of my life will be realized." / " No hope could be better. * He that winneth souls is wise.'" ,./ / --:;;■ ■":,<•? -•:•;, " This destination — too exalted for the aspirings of one so humble — has, for some mysterious cause, been long befbre my mind." , : " And your education has been directed with reference to it?" ■ :- -,■-. "Not formally, but really. My engagement in Forest- dale has no other object." : • " Precisely as I suspected. You live there as a teacher of religion." "Yes; as a teacher of religion, but not with the grave responsibilities of a pastor. This is a calling in which prac- tice must concur with theory, to prepare one for it ; and my friends advised this course, to settle my mind, and test my fitness to make myself useful in it." " Something more than practice or theory seemed to be necessary to the apostles. They had to be endued with power from on high; and are we less dependent in this respect?" " No, none the less; but how are we to obtain it? that is m I MORE WOBK FOR THE MAINE LAW. 155 the question. By what means did you come to have views of this subject 80 just?" ' ; '' « ' " I cannot say that they are so ; but I will tell you how I came to tUnk as I do, when you have told me more about Mapleton." ' •'.'•■ •''•'■■ ' ' ' ^ "" k-hi^":^ '■: ■ This conversation was terminated on the balcony of the mansion, where they parted, Miss Harcourt to look after her household affairs, and Douglass to muse on the incidents of the day. To a young man of Charles' habits and unhappy domestic relations, nothing can be conceived more invigorat- ing to head, heart and health, than these hours of rural relaxation, in such society. "When he was alone, his dreary, soul-consuming years came peering up to his view, like the dashing wreck from which the storm-smitten sailor* has escaped, with the loss of all but his life. But, ala° ! there is no repose to a drunkard's son. The more he felt himself becoming interested in this new and delightful acquaintance, the more he feared the effect of having his father's character known. It was a sun-dog to breed a storm, and not a rain- ' bow to harbinger a clear sky, that seemed to lure him on. Dinner was soon announced, and Douglass met father and daughter again, at table. Health lent its charms to her per- son ; exercise in the open air made her spirits elastic ; piety overcast her with grace and loveliness ; and no feature was wanting to complete in her the ideal of a model Christian female. No sombre airs, no whining cant, no incapacity to please or be pleased, no prudish affectation of gravity in dress,— nothing of the kind, to eclipse the lustre of her char- acter; but all was bland, frank, social, cheerful. Little passed between them at table. They were too happy in their own reflections to talk, and too much interested in their antic- ipated disclosures to fit them for conversation in the pr«8" ^ ■\ 156 mapleton; or, „j*.»^.v 1 * ence of a third person. Harcourt sipped his wine freely, and offered the cup to his guest, but it was politely declined. " What, Mr. Douglass ! — a teetotaller 7 " ^ -^ - -* '' I never drink anything that intoxicates," replied Charles. " Excuse me, sir; but that always looks to me suspicious, as if a man did in secret what he was ashamed to do openly." "It is a suspicion without foundation in my caso, Mr. Harcourt, for I never drink at all." _ >s > ,' " 0, ah, yes, yes ; not at all ; and the meaning is, I sup- pose, that nobody else shall drink. That, I believe, is the motive of your teetotal principle." " We leave every one to do as he pleases ; but our convic- tion is, that the total disuse of intoxicating liquids as a bev- erage would save the world an untold amount of crime, pov- erty and Avretchedness." \ " No doubt, no doubt; but my principle is, that those who are so weak as not to be able to drink without injuring them- selves would be in some other way criminal, poor and wretched, if wine were given up. Your teetotalism can't save them." " Perhaps not all, but the greater part of them." " But, if I gave up one good thing because others abused it, then I may another ; and where shall I end 7 I must reduce myself to absolute hermituge; because there is no possible comfort that somebody does not i\buse." "But we do not consider alcohol, as i% beverage, among our good things. We are all better off without it. Besides, there is this difference between your wine an^l our real com- forts, that it generates, in a large proportion of those who use it habitually, a dangerous appetite, which is with diffi- culty controlled, and which, when indulged, leads to the greatest evils of which flesh is heir. It alienates the reason ; which cannot be said of our real comforts." ^ / T" MORE WORK FOR THE MAINE LAW. 167 f '' A precious little reason does it alienate ; for the fools who use it in that manner have do reason. They are not worth saying. I would not give up my wine to save as many as you could shake a stick at." '*'' " Dear father," said Sarah, "you speak more than you mean. You have a tender heart, and would make great sacrifices to render the miserable happy, I know." "Certainly, certainly, my daughter; but the thing is, to be convinced that giving up my wine would have this effect. Nobody but a fanatic would ever have thought such a thing." Sarah was everything to her father, and he, apart from his infidel and worldly views, was everything to her that a daughter could desire. It was his life to please her, the im- age of that dear departed one who was ever present to his view, and whose influence, but for his unfortunate drinking habits, might have elevated him to the same spiritual hopes which greeted her in her death. But this habit, though never indulged to the extent of what the world calls intoxica- tion (which he despised more than most men), kept his moral feelings in a disguised state, and he did not reason nor feel on religious subjects as he probably would if the bane had never entered his blood. Dinner ended, the young couple sought retirement to com- plete their explanations. It was one of those warm days of November that pass for Indian summer. The autumnal flies were sporting in the sunbeams in clusters like moving aerial pyramids, the second-growth lettuce and spinago were ex- panding their green leaves in the garden, the cricket was singing his monotonous ditty, the flocks and herds were crop- ping the mown grass, and all was serene and lovely, like the old age of a well-spent life. " 0, Mr. Douglass, I must take you to our spring arbor, 14 II M n 158 Yf #',t 1«^^ ■ MAFLBTON ; CR, ..m' 5f 'fi| |i n i HI ■ I^Hf ' ^^H ' m; the loveliest spot on the plantation ! " exclaimed Miss Har- court. " Do call me Charles, Miss Haroourt. I have had it at my tongue's end to say this, all day ; Mr. Dovglass is so stiff! " . " I should make a fine figure caYlfng you Charles, when you this moment called me Miss Harcourt. Call me Sarah, and try the effect of example before you correct me." ''Agreed, Sarah, sweet Sarah! that has always been a favorite name to me. I called you so during those happy days of our childish acquaintance." " Here wo are at Spring Arbor. How do you like iti " " Delightful ! — a perfect Elysium ! I never before imag- ined a spot of earth so beautiful." Nor was the guise of fancy necessary to extort this confession. A little west of Mr. Harcourt's house, the rocky defile curved round to the north, so as to form a s^^ mi-circular space begirt by a natural wall, like the intersected half of an amphitheatre, it being from the plain below to the level of the country above the rocks full sixty feet. The open side of the serai-circle looked to the south-west, so as to command a full view of the descend- ing sun of autumn, while in its bosom gurgled up from the cavity of the mountain a copious spring of pellucid water, which formed itself into a pond of a hundred yards in cir- cumference. Between this pond ai:d the rocky defile on the north side of it Mr. Harcourt had planted a vineyard, the ample tendrils of which stretched themselves over the trees, shrubs and artificial supports, so as to form a spacious arbor covered by a thick vegetable awning, and looking out upon the glassy surface of the fountain, which he had peopled with a great variety of water-fowl. What may seem extraordinary, the young couple, who it I MORE WORK FOR THE MAINE LAW. 159 thought themselves alone, were not so, but in the presence of a third person. That person was no other than Samuel Gil- fort, the skulking serpent, who, from motives which will here- after appear, gladly availed himself of the opportunity to learn the probable tendency of an acquaintance so purely accidental as far as the parties were concerned, which could have as yet no other motive than that of the pleasure they felt in each other, as the gushing up of their childish recollec- tions. If there was anything beyond this, it must be set to the account of a certain fitness of person, taste and character, which interference might be expected to develop rather than repress. Whether this eavesdropping was from accident or design, on the part of Gilfort, is not a well-settled question. He had been that morning gaming in a contiguou.'< forest ; and, it is said by some, had returned late and sat down to rest himself under the shade of a rock enclosed by vines and shrubbery back of the pool, and would have escaped when he saw the young couple enter the arbor, if he ould have done it without exposure ; — but, as he could not, he laid still, where he could see and hear all that passed, without being himself detected. Others affirm that he had been cognizant of Doug- lass' previous visit, and that he took this clandestine method to ascertain whether a rival was likely to spring up to his own fondly-cherished hopes. It is not material to our pur- pose that we should vex ourselves with the real facts of this singular instance of meddling with other people's business. Upon seating himself beside Miss Harcourt in the Arbor, Charles exclaimed again, looking out upon the glassy surface of the pool, " A perfect paradise, — an Eden ! " "And I'll be the serpent," whispered Gilfort, inaudibly. " What is that ? " said Sarah, with a start of surprise. "Nothing but a cricket; I heard a cricket peep," replied ■^ '^,v;;?*''''*-*M:*«*P'Wf?!v"f w. \ 160 MAPLBTON; OR, Douglass. " What a beautiful idea of your father to people the pool with such charming tenantry ! See how gracefully those swans move their arched necks! How enchanting their aquatic evolutions ! Not Joseph's many-colored coat could equal the multiform plumage of these eide^-drakes. How elaborately are the minutest things in nature adorned for our use! " - - . "That young ass thinks he brays beautifully," thought Gilfort, loud enough to excite Sarah's fears again and she said, "There! what is that? I certainly heai.;l something strange." " Yes, a cricket again ; it is sweet in my ear. Don't you love the music of crickets? " " I do not object, if it is that." I " Tell me, Sarah, do you not spend much time here? " ^ " 0, yes, I do, — not to look at what you so much admire, but to think of ray dear mother, who is now in heaven. The mind has in it imagery so transcending all outward loveliness, that we forget the one in our contemplation of the other." " Pray, Sarah, what are the facts in reference to yottr mother? She seems to live in your mind as an ever-pervad- ing presence, and I have always been curious for an explana- tion." " The story is short, but full of meaning to an orphan's mind. My mother was to me, while she lived, the oracle of God. Thoughts of God's goodness and Christ's lovo were interwoven with tl;e lullaby of the cradle and with the stories of the nursery. Nor were her pious assiduites in vain. Her words dropped upon me like the gentle showers on the spring grass. My earliest ideas were ideas of Goi, my first words words of prayer, and my childish enthusiajim was to 'ip(;kilWKr'>»i'iiiyw-,W!?i"'M>"«w«*' w"w!'-?»"i,""juu» MORE WORE FOB THB MAINS LAW. 161 :Mng be as good as my mother was, — yea, as good as she repre- sented Jesus to my young imagination, l -t , ,^j^,,^ ,. . " She died when I was eight years old ; and such a parent's death no child ever witnessed. She was so calm, so sweetly submissive, so charmingly lovely, in her sickness, that my whole soul was wrappea up in hers, and it always seemed to me a miracle of unbelief that my dear father was not won to her faith.' ' Douglass thought within himself that the mystery was fully revealed in the drinking habits of her father. The serpent-cup held him with its charmed eye. It corrupted all his moral judgments. While he despised drunkenness, no drunkard could be more wedded to his cup, or more constantly disguised by it. This accounted for his singular unbelief, amid evidences of Christian truth, in the life and death of his wifS, which were overwhelming. What is the more remurkable, was the perfect adoration with which he cher- ished the memory of his wife, indisposing him to another marriage, and rendering him so fond or Sarah from an idea that she was like her mother. But still, all this mighty array of Christian domestic influence was more than counterbal- anced by the irresistible incantation of wine. These thoughts passed through the mind of Charles, though delicacy re- strained the expression of them. " It was midnight," continued Sarah, "when my blessed mother breathed her last. At her request, I was awaked an hour previous. When I came to her bedside, sho said, ' My sweet Sarah, your mamma j3 dying ! ' I sobbed as if I would break my heart. ' My tender daughter,' said she, 'come once moi:e to your dear mammal arms.' With that, the nurse set me on the bed by her side, and she clasped me in her cold arms, imprinted the kiss of her clammy lips upon my cheek, and said, ' 0, Sarah, my darling child, remember 14* 162 mapleton; or, '■^ HIS Ml' m your mother died a Christian. She loved Jesus. She prayed to him continually. She trusted his atoning blood. Remem- ber your mother said her dying hour was the happiest of her life. Yes, full of happiness, and full of hopo. There is no happiness, and no hope, without holiness, my darling daugh- ter. I leave you in God's hand. I know He will take better care of you than your mamma could. I have his promise. I can trust him. My breath is short,' she added, panting. ' I am away, — I am away ! Angels beckon me. Jesus smiles me into heaven. Glory, glory, glory ! ' and with her last word her breath wa° exhaled upon my cheek, her arms still clasping me in the cold embrace of death." Gilfort, moved by this recital, c >uld not i-estrain his tears, ejaculating, " Sweet ! — beautiful ! — divine ! Now I feel the charm of innocence. that I had been oorn to a like inheritance ! Cursed training ! — incurable habit ! " Steeped as he was in infamy, born to a money-digging, whiskey-drink- ing, night-walking inheritance, still his heart had its fender points.. Whose has not? The evil spirit of alcohol, indulged from youth, with habits in other respects to correspond, is enough to make a fiend of any man. " My father." contin- ued Sarah, " looked upon the scene in tearless anguiah. He felt too much to weep. Since that I have been bis bosom friend. His love to aw, I sometimes fancy, arises chiefly from his idea that I resembk my mother. Charles, I can never forget that scene ! It made mp - wh»t shall I say 7 — a child of faith. . Faith gives substance ;o Wiseen things, rests upon the word and providence of God, a«d peoples the spirit-land with living forms ^ • ' Si monuuentam quaeris, j*^ ■ / * Ciroumspioe. > 'If you ask for my monument, look around ! *,^ . In this room it was that Gilfort and Skampton met, a few -?*■ / / V MOBE WORK FOB TAB MAINE LAW. 178 weeks after the concluding events of the foregoing chapter, and had a consultation as to what should be done to ward off a more stringent legislation against the liquor traffic After the usual salutations, Skampton inquired, "Pray, Gilfort, where d' ye hail from?" " From Terracegrecn. I have remained there ever since I wrote you last." " Ay, ay ! and had an eye, I hope, to the lovers. Pray, what effect had my letter? " " Good, good ! It was the right medicine. It knocked the disease on the head. It saved an innocent girl from the grasp of a tiger, and laid the tiger himself sprawling. I saw him before I left, and his face was as long as my arm, and black as thunder." " How so 7 How did Harcourt worst the fellow?" " By the better part of valor ; he escaped. He swore he 'd be the death of his daughter, before she should marry a drunkard's son." ' ' What ! — left the country ? " " The country of this fellow, where he '11 see him no more." " That 's enough ; it 's all I ask. I am thankful that I did my duty, and saved an innocent family. He is a piece of impertinence, and I 'd sacrifice every cent I have before I 'd see him married to such a wife as Sarah Harcourt. How the fool could think ta succeed, drunkard's son as he is, temperance lecturer, college scapegrace, expelled for bad conduct, is more thaa I can divine. His teetotal pledge is enough to wind him up, with a man of Harcourt's spirit." "Yes, Harcourt despises him. I stated to him the facts in my possession, and his mettle ran high, that the rascal should presume so &r. But he is so controlled by his 15* I L»l '1 m w %' 1T4 MAPLETON; OR, daughter that he did nothing till your letter came ; and then he was ofl* in a trice, and is to be seen there no more." " That is a good fellow, Gilfort, and entitles you to a bottle of champagne." Kings, and a servant enters. "Sambo, brUig me a bottle of our best." "To be sure, massa, de berry .^est, — dat any gemman '11 say," replied Sambo, hastening after the champagne, and soon reappearing, with bottle in hand. "Here, Gilfort, drink, — drink freely; you need it, after 80 much fatigue o" "With you, sir." " No, no, Gilfort, you know I never drink. I know the. best, as well as any man ; it don't agree with me ; we are diflferently constituted ; I never drink." "What! — yoked to this cut- throat pledge?" said Gil- fort, drinking. "Don't insult me by such a question. I should be in chains with that fanatical device. What madness has seized upon the people? Just as if we are wiser than the. hun- dreds of generations which have preceded us, who never dreamed of its being criminal to take a social glass ! I would drink, for there is good cheer in 't, but it always gives me a thumping head-ache, and unfits me for anything." " Well, I am thankful it has the contrary eflFect upon me. My head is always clearest, and my heart always best, with a little wine in 't. If I wished to think deeply, feel p : ofoundly, pray sincerely, act coolly, bargain skilfully, and do anything effectively, it would be with bottle in hand," he added, drink- ing ofif another glass. " By the way, we are getting a haul out of our Falls tract.'* " Yes, we are just approaching the harvest. We have ■^1 MORE WORK FOR ''HK MAINE LAW. 175 and ( had, hitherto, only the ;a'emature ears, hardly a specimen of what is to follow. We hswro there a large vilLige growing into a city. One object I have this way is, to blow up our lots in the Eastern market. To furnish myself with wind, I set the bellows in motion before I left. I got up a perfect rage for buying. I sold the Lion Corner, she other viay, for ten thousand dollars, and took pain*i .<> have it purchased of the buyer, the day following, for twenty tbc>usand, and the day following that for thirty thousand ; and that is a specimen of how things go." • " You iiiade a loss, then, by selling so lowT''' •"No, not I. I see you don't understand the game. Nothing was paid me^ and nothing to thob- whc sold after me. Money is not necessary to get rich in this way. I was never so confounded hard up as now. But, then, we shall reap a harvest in the end. These sales, which I have had duly certified, will tell on Wall-street. The property is not alienated from us by means of them, for the right of soil is secured to us by mortgage. We have a clear title ; and when the last purchaser fails, it '11 come back iipon the next to him, and the next, till it falls again into our ha,ids, with ali its improv iraents. And, by that tim^i, capitalists abroad will be inaucjed to invest among us, and a flow of gold will set in upon our city, that cannot fail to Snd its way into our pockets, as the '/reat reservoir. This is between us." "My affairs are vastly extended, Gilfort; I must hava funds out 01 the concern, or 1 shall kick the bucket. If this cursed liquor-law should succeed, I 'm a dead man. Then my capital goes to the gutter, and I to bankruptcy. My public houses will become sheep-cotes; my ships in the liquor- trade will rofc at the wharves ; my distillery-worm will cease its flow ; my enormous charities will vanish into air ; and I, % I I I I 1T6 MAPLETON; OR, Pi %' is h a stranded whale, shall be the prey of crows and harpies. This is between you and me, as you say." " That 's the point, the exact point, upon which I have come to talk. First, we must blow up our lots in the market. Then for the battle on the liquor-bill. Your legislature meets here soon, and the contest comes on in due form, and we must be ready for it. That miidcap Bludgeon is setting the state all on fire against us, and is to begin his onset here the first of March. We must be ready to knock him in head. If the liquor-bill succeeds here, it will in Ohio, Indiana, Illinois, and then it will over-leap the Mississippi and invade rhy colony, where I am manufacturing the article on a large scale. This done, and I might whistle for emigrants ; for the great attraction, to those who are annoyed by this Maine legislation, is our freedom to make, sell and drink, what we please. If we do not gain the battle here, we lose it everywhere else." " Well, what do you propose? " . " I propose that we send out agents enough to array on our side all the wealth, talent and power, which we can possi- bly command. Then, that we have here in your city a con- sultation of the principles, arguments, measures and irffluences, to be used with the legislature to defeat this Maine law. This should take place as early as February, to be ready for the Bludgeon tornado. And then, during his campaign, let our ablest speakers be employed, to hold counter-meetings, to divert public attention, and to pour their hot shot upon his camp. With these plans duly carried out, we shall array on our side an extent of prejudice, passion and interest, that must insure success." '-' " A capital idea, and I have with me the man to head the agency. Mr. Saphead can drum up more people in a given time than any man I know. Sambo, go call Mr. Saphead." iilf. JiORE WORK FOR THE M\INE LAW. 177 i This geatleman soon appeared, very much out of breath, for the good reason that mward fat had nearly deprived him of breathing capacity. He was a man five feet six, and greater in circumference than in height. His gait was like that of a duck in the mud. We sometimes say of a man that he is the breath of another. But breathing denotes continuity, which Saphead had not. He was rather the puff of Skampton, which he blew off occasionally to serve a purpose. Saphead was the generalissimo of all enterprises requiring money and action ; Slrampton supplying the one and he the other, so that the two together were tlie parts of a pair of shears, — and a keener instrument never fleeced the public. " Saphead, such and such are Mr. Gilfort's plans," said Skampton, de*^ailing to him the particulars. " What do you think 1 " " I think two wiser heads do not rest on shoulders, and •what you approve I go for," said Saphead, Nvith labored breathing. " You deserve a drop for that," said Gilfort, pouring out a glass of champagne, which Saphead swallowed with a gusto, it put life into his sluggish corporosity. " You will then undertake to drum up recruits for the campaign in February and March, will you, Mr. Saphead? " said Skampton. • " I will, sir. I'll go first to all the liquor-dealers, a;nd get a large subscription ; for it's money makes the mare go. Then, I 'd get every conservative man's influence on our side ; I mean yours, as you are men skilled in all matters of law and legislation. They '11 go for us, to a man. Then all the liquor-drinkers — a numerous host — will bring up the rear, with their petitions, to scare the dough-faces into a vote on the right side." I'. I 178 V;-.», ' -.■ V''VS ' M/PLETON; OR, I ■ ' "You understand the thing, Saphcad," said Skampton. "We shall need a large subscription to buy over the papers." At that moment the door-bell rang, and Peter Pegan, Esq., a conservative editor of distinction, was ushered in. " Just in time, Mr. Pegan," aided Skampton, detailing the several features of the plan. " Can we rely upon your able and influ- ential journal '? " " That 's the very object of my coming," said Pegan, with an involuntary twist of his meagre person. " The battle waxes hotter and hotter. I have just heard th: . Bludgeon has set the north and west of the state all in a flame. They have already begun to empty the liquor-casks by mob vio- lence, and are confident of being sustained in their van- dalism by the coming legislature. I am prepared to lead off with all my power in favor of law and order ; and have come to put you on your guard, and to request you to rally as many as you can to my help." "You see, my good Pegan," said Skampton, "we have anticipated you." " Yes, I go to New York this very night," added Saphead. "I'll kindle in the great metropolis a counter-flame, which will consume Bludgeon and all his combustion." " I '11 keep my host here to assail the coming members of both houses," said Gilfort. "And I '11 help you," added Skampton. Who has not remarked the conflict of the conservative principle with the genius of change ? The Old cannot main- tain her hold without resisting the encroachments of the New; and the New cannot rise except on the ruins of the Old. The one looks with jealous concern on her time-hallowed prerogatives ; while the other, bearing on her bold front tba motto of utter demolition, finds in the antic^uity of a thing > BU on otl is MORE WORK FOR Till': MAIN'K LAW. tm >> Bufficient reason for beginning her work of destruction. Tlie one would chain tiie future within the limits of the past ; the other would drive the triumphal car of change over all that is guilty of an origin prior to her own. These conflicts must go on. There is no avoiding them. We can dispense with neither the one nor the other of the belligerent powers. The one is as necessary to guard what- ever is valuable in the past, as the other to introduce improve- ments. Neither the forms of society, nor the maxims of legislation, nor the institutions of civil government, nor creeds in religion, nor the conceptions of virtue and obligation, nor the arts and sciences, nor anything, in fact, which at all depends upon the faculties of man, is too perfect to admit of improve- ment. To rectify present defects is as necessary as the pre- servation of what is excellent. But, unfortunately, the conservative principle often protects the evil, as well as the good. It is l s tenacious of slavery as of liberty, and of a traffic which corrupts mankind as of one which has proved itself the most harmless and beneficent. She is a blind, imperious, and blood-thirsty divinity, whose temple is prejudice, whoso altar malignity, and whose victims arc the greatest a^d best of mankind. The Son of God himself, with his self-denying associates, and the martyred reformers, as well as Socrates, Seneca, and a long line of kindred spirits, forced to her shrme, have died to appease her inexorable ven- geance. And the genius of change is scarcely less arbitrary and blood-thirsty. A de'^potism is demolished to make way for anarchy and misrule. The feudal tyrannies are sup- planted by the Bonapartean thrones, standing amid the blood and carnage of slaughtered millions ; the virtues of defect are followed by those of excess, as the miser is merged in the Voluptuary' ; and thus innovation is aa reckless as conserva- 180 MAPLETON ; OR, 1: tism is cruel and relentless. Yet change must go on. Wise and good men should understand this, &nd take the lead in it, instead of leaving it to the intemperate and the lawless. In reference to Skampton, as a faithful historian we are bound to say that his great error was his ultra conservatism. He was not inherently cruel, nor excessively avaricious, nor capable of an out-and-out fraud; and, as to the government of his own appetites, no man could be more rigorous. But he was so wedded to all existing opinions and usages, as to feel that those who rose up against them were enemies to society, and to be dealt with as such. When poor Mrs. Douglass besought him to interfere to turn away the cup from her husband's lips, he felt that she was some way linked with the temperance innovations, and was to be treated as a disturber of the public tranquillity. Her son's temperance efforts while in coiiege exposed him, also, to the same feeling, and led Skampton to exercise against him the arbitrary power to which his position and enormous gratuities entitled him. And, as Charles could not be brought to his standard, he must be hurled into the abyss of infamy which his contumacious treatment of so great a benefactor deserved. Hence, the ambition of arbitrary control, natural to a weak mind which had so many things to bolster up its pretensions to power, stands side by side with ultra conservatism, as the key to Skampton's character. We say these things in favor of the man, under the full impression that in nothing is history so much at fault as in revealing motives, and in its inquiries after the ruling passions of the great actors in the world's drama. Besides, the early life of Skampton was full of mitigating facts, to soften the shading of his character. He was bom in a mountain defile of the ancient town of Undercliff, on a farm wedged in by inaccessible ledges, on which his ancestors, MORE WORK FOR THE MAINE LAW. 181 from the early time of the colonies, had sustained a preca- rious subsistence. He inherited their staidness, early became a member of their church, was scrupulous in little things but careless of great ones, and was as averse to expansion as the rock-bound farm on which he was raised. The deacon, his father, ruled the church, minister and all, or rather his wife ruled it through him ; for the Mercury, or rather Mars, was all on her side. Michael was vulgarly called the tell-tale of the school under Master Tody, who early conceived a pas- sion for him, and made him his right-hand man. The more Master Tody loved him, the more his school-fellows hated him ; and the more they hated him, the more Mrs. Skampton and Master Tody thought he was a genius ; and the more they thought so, the more they told him so. Hence Michael began life under circumstances to insure in him a false estimate of himself and of everything around him. Through the persuasions of Mrs. Skampton and Master Tody, the deacon was compelled, against his will, to send Michael abroad, to try the fortunes of literature. But the thing would not go. Michael would strike his head furiously with his fist, to drive in a thought, or to make it stick after he got it in. But the recreant thought would escape him, after all. He plodded on a few years in this way, till it was found that dulness is a disease not easily cured, when he was put to business, in which he acquitted himself more cred- itably. Fortune, of which he was always a favorite, perpe- trated one of those freaks upon him which introduced him into a widely different field from what he had a right to expect. A maternal uncle of wealth, dying in the West Indies, left the bulk of his property to young Skampton. To this he added still more by his marriage. Hence he had at once large sums to invest, which he prudently distributed 16 If' W. 182 MAPLBTON; OR, ! 1 f among a variety of objects that brought large returns. From the silks of Broadway to the whales of Kamtschatka, from lots in the city to the new lands of the Wept, from the sump- tuous hotel to the humblest groggery, all shared his attention, and supplied the rills of his wealth. His preference for the liquor business was always decided, — not so much on ac- count of its profits, as his desire to maintain a great principle, which had been acknowledged from Noah's wine-press to this day, he said, but was now assailed and invaded by these fanat- ical temperance innovations. His wealth had grown upon him, till his annual income had risen to thirty or forty thou- sand dollars. Still, Skampton was moderate, lived with simplicity, was as unassuming as one under his circumstances could well be ; and his homestead investment was made more with reference, he said, to the rise in its value, and the greater means he should thus have in the end to do good with, than to any ideas of personal kxury or splendor. What had done most of all to delude and debase him was his falling into the hands of flatterers, "who desired to divide with him the spoils of his wealth. A man with money is like a king in the midst of his courtiers, — befooled for the public good. He was never approached save with hat under arm and head doing obei- sance, and was daily surrounded by a class of men who sought money from him for this, that, and the other charity ; and who, to accomplish their purpose, would make him believe that the hope of the world, in these days of innovation, was wrapped up in him and in his purse. A mind weak, preju- diced and compressed, like that of Skampton, was just the one to drink down the delicious bane, and suffer from it the worst imaginable consequences. He was li))eral, and gave very largely ; but manifestly not as a gratuity, at least in MORE WORK FOR THE MAINE LAW. isa the feeling and motive by which it was dictated, but to buy influence, and create in as ma^ as possible the obligation to do and think as he Avished, and to bow down to his over- whelming power. Other rich men invested to bring a return in kind; but he, in reputation and influence. The social supremacy of the Honorable Michael Skampton cost him thousands a year. How much more a gift is money thus bestowed than in buying lands or stocks 1 It was the sys- tem of coercion which he employed with young men depend- ent on his bounty that involved him in a quarrel with Charles Douglass. That young gentleman had too much spirit to submit to his dictation, and too much reason to detest his alcoholic traf&c to receive his benefactions. 1 i CHAPTEK XIII. WINE AND WITCHCRAFT. " Be 't whiskey gill, or penny-yrheep, Or any stronger potion. It never fails, on drinking deep, To kittle lip our notion. By night or day." — Bubns. " For, if the devil may form what kind of impression he pleases in the air, why may he not far easier thicken and obscure so the air that is about them, by contracting it straight together, that the beams of any other man's eyes cannpt pierce through the same to see them?" — Kinq Jamss I. The parties in consultation at once set about their work. Pegan's columns flamed with articles against the Maine law. A hundred inferior sheets lighted their censers at his altar. I I 184 MAPLEION : OR, Dolorous wailings resounded on every hand against oppres- sion, invasion of the rights of trade, the folly of decreeing "what a man shall drink, the impossibility of carrying out such a bill, priestly interference, malignant fanaticism, legis- lating against all precedent since Noah began the wine busi- ness, the ruin of fortunes to those whom the present laws had drawn into the liquor traffic, conflict with constitutional law which entitles a man to trial by a jury of his peers, and much more in the same line. Peal after peal of Pegan thun- der resounded through the land, reverberating from hill to valley, and from mountain to plain. The gathering law- makers were taken all aback, and dared not move to the right or left, at the peril of their popularity. Those who had obtained their election by the pledge to support the Maine law could not stand against this volleyed thunder of Pegan's pen, and covered themselves from danger under silence, absence, or any subterfuge they could invent. Meantime, Saphead had swelled his golden accumulation to many thou- sands, at the expense of the liquor-dealers, to flood the coun- try with documents, to hire public-sentiment makers to exer- cise their function all abroad, and to buy influence in any form under which it might be ofiered in the market. Skamp- ton plied his arts of personal suasion with the members of the legislature in detail, and did most eiFective execution ; while, on the other hand. Bludgeon and his host waxed hotter and hotter, more and more numerous and powerful, and both the Senate and Assembly were deluged with petitions in be- half of the Maine Law, which tbey dared not grant, and yet feared to resist. They were literally toads under a harrow, not knowing which way to hop. ■* Necessity knows no law. This poor Gilfort found, to his cost. He desired to lead oflf his division, and stand foremost MOBB WOJUL FOR lUB MAINE LAW. 186 in the impending baitlo, but lacked tlie sinews of war — money. The funds he brought from the far West were gone. His late windj speculations yielded no supplies. There were delicate considerations against looking either to Skampton or Saphead, in this exigency. The former gentleman he knew was har^ up, and to draw on the lattcr's puise would be sub- mitting to a charity pension. No, no ; lie must appeal to his wits, which, when duly sharpened by the " 0, bo joyful," had never failed to coin the needful out of something, or nothing. He had lodgings a little out of the city with one of his creat- ures. He never failed to have around him this kind of ani- mals, — a class of men to whose conscience ho was the all-in- all, and whom he could rely upon for any dirty service to which he might send them. His host was as destitute of the needful as himself ; but another man near by, — a Dutchman, by the name of Roderick Dobson, who had once been one of his creatures, but had fallen away through an over-love of managing his own purse, instead of leaving it for Gilfort to finger, — he knew abounded in money. Gilfort, therefore, applied to Dobson for the favor of a loan, proposing to secure him with his Falls property, or in any way he 'should ask. " I an't able, anyhow, to give you the money, said Dobson, with a grin which revealed a sparse supply of teeth, and a shrug of his round, Dutch shoulders, which betrayed the strength of his hold upon the fruit of his labor. "What! ten per cent, and good security nothing to you, Dobson 1 Your money, at that rate, will earn more than you can. )> "It ams more in my hand, where I sees it, and knows where it is." " Well, if you won't accommodate n^e, I '11 render good for 16* >i I IMAGE EVALUATION TEST TARGET (MT-3) ' 1.0 I.I L£|Z8 |25 ■i> Itt 12.2 ■if 1120 ■ L25 im I 1.6 Photographic Sciences Cxjrporalion 23 WIST MAIN STRfIT WSBSTH.N.Y. MSSO (716/ •73-4303 ■ 186 maplbton; or, evil, and pay you off with a drink of capital whiskey^i just sent me from my distillery in the west,'' is^id Gilfbrt, taking out of his pocket a little bottle fall of the intoxicating poi« son. Dobson's eyes glistened at the sight, for he was a man given to strong drink, though too covetous to indulge in it unless at another's expense. He took the bottle, and, holding it to his mouth with his head turned back, he quaffed a heavy dram. This he repeated again and again, till the leaping blood " put life and mettle in his heels ; " and he fell to dancing right merrily, as if penury and plenty, little and much, were all alike to him. Gilfort was now confident of success, and renewed his suit for the loan. But Dobson's fists were more firmly clenched than ever. He was one of those rare cases in which drunkenness makes a man more rabid after money ,\ and Anore careful in keeping it. Nothing could be got out of him at such times. Gilfort failed altogether. But he was not a man to give up a thing so easily. He thought and thought bow he should help himself to money out of Dobson's stores. He conned over the subject at night; he whetted his faculties with "wine and wassail;" — but it was not till after the most agonized mental throes, that, starting up at midnight, he exclaimed, '^ I have it ! — I have it! Dobson is superstitious, and I '11 pull that string. I '11 scare the old miser out of his money. I '11 haunt him by day and by night. I '11 fill his chamber with ghosts and dev- ils. Sleep dhall not press his eyelids till he has disgorged his hoarded wealth. The Lord hath need of it. I am the Lord's servant. I have great interests at stake. So many^r*- thousands in the far West who worship me as a divinity, and the number constantly increasing, — what a responsibility ! I must consult their interest. I must uphold truth, and break down this pagan priesthood. I should have a right to MOKB WOBK FOB THB MAINE LAW. :fi^'. this old apostate's money, even if I never paid him ; but that I can and will do, at my convenience. What good can it do him to lie rusting in his coffers? It will be a mercy to him, to me and to mankind, to relieve him of it." So soliloquized Gilfort, and, as we shall see, not in vain ; for, with all Dobson's avarice and drunkenness, he was a great believer in witches, spooks, incantations and invisible agencies, insomuch that he never rested without the protec- tion of horse-shoes nailed to his door-sill, which many igno- rant people suppose a witch cannot pass. Having hit upon his plan, Gilfort penned the following blasphemous missive :>- -F^-' "In the name of Gkw, Ameii. To my servaat, Roderick Dobson, these presents come, to command thee, Roderick Dobson, to deliver over, for my use and behoof, the sum of two thousand dollars, the same to be deposited under the bridge near thy house, towards the sun-rising, by the tenth day of the first month, before the cock goeth forth of his roost, or men to their labor. And, in default hereof, blight and mildew shall come upon all thou hast, rottenness shall waste the flesh from thy bones, thy children shall be killed with death, and all the devils in hell shall wreak their infer- nal malice upon thy soul. In the name of the great Jehovah, by his w%^i^'''^'^-''<>'/'''^f''^^i'''f'p^''^-'^'- ^iW'^VW'Sj*^' ;'*'*-■'*'■'«' Servant. ■.■.■"■!■ isj* ■^^- mi'^ifif^^.,^^^ .cJvS ^.■^^>J•|^ ■^«J. This letter was deposited by one of Gilfort's emissaries where it reached the eye of Dobson before night. As the poor old fellow read it, every hair of his head stood up, his teeth chattered, — so many as came in contact, — and he passed the night without a wink of sleep. The unearthly style, appearance and handwriting, of the letter, as also the extraor- dinary manner in which it reached him, as if it might have 188 j«yffm » c?^' jfAfunoH; ox, droj^wd down firom die clouds, all conspired Un assuvb him that it was what it purported to be, an epistle direct from heaven transmitted by the hand of an angel. How to elude the demand was all his study. Subtracting dollars was tear- ing out his heart-strings. He wdted, conned over the mat- ter in his mind, tortured himself alirost to madness, and finally determined to sell soul, body and all, to " den duyvel," to use his own expression, rather than give up his money. The throes of poor Dobson's soul, in coming to this terrible conclusion, may be better imagined than described. The strength of his conviction that the powers above were mak- ing this draught upon his purse was only equalled by the grasp of his avarice, which could not be relaxed by the certainty of jeoparding the highest interest dT which it is possible for mortal man to conceive. Alas ! what dangers will not money make a man incur! The day came and passed away, but no money was deposited under the bridge, toward the sun-rising. What was a little remarkable, how- ever, four of Dobson's best cattle died before night, and there were fearful signs of sickness within his doors. To add to his consternation, another letter reached him, more dreadful than the first ; f.'"-v"-A!i,*'7i/.' ■ g'^W (V . r<„ v-y'?^( -r^-,J^* '{■A' fi'-mm''frf:-'l^t^ -0"} ''^WAi-fci-W ^.,- -^\^- ^^-/'--^ --'•j^^i^.mt^^'kii " The great God to Roderick Dobson, showeth that, in the plenitude of my mercy, I have added further* space for thee to repent, and thus avert impending woes. Though I might in justice cut thee off and all thou hast, as thy cattle have this day died by my visitation, and thus punish withoi:t hope thy contempt of my authority in witliholding the mone^ of which I have need ; yet, now appoint I unto thee the fifteenth day of the first month, as the time wherein thou mayest redeem thy body from pestilence, wasting and death, and thy f f \ f"/';f^'lf^\; ■■-' ■ ■.^;' MOBB WOBX FOR THB MAIKB LAW. 189 Boul from outer darkness, by depositing thy money under the bridge as aforesaid, early in the morning, before the first rays pencil the east, while the ox is yet in his stall, and the labor- ing man in his couch. And, in default hereof, thy dwelling shall be consumed by lightning, murrain shall smite thy cat- tle, thy flocks shall perish with destruction, thy wife shall be given to another, thy children be vagabond and beg, and thy soul shall be the sport of demons to all eternity. In virtue of my Godhead, by the hand of my . v; j^t..- Servant." By this time DoV«on had become extremely nervous, from his superstitious tears, the death of his cattle, the want of sleep, and, ruost of all, from continued drunkenness. A sus- picion is also abroad that the whiskey Gilfort gave him was mixed with a maddening drug, as, from that moment, he was never himself again. But we see no necessity for such a conclusion. Continued drunkenness operating upon a mind habitually superstitious, as the Dutch are, is sufficient to account for all. Besides, the evil eye of Gilfort was never brought to bear upon a weak man like Bobson, when it did not bewitch him. Hence, the effect of this second missive was far more decided than the first. He immediately ar- ranged to deposit the money. But, upon counting his funds, he found they fell short of the demand. This did not dispel the delusion, but rather prompted him to supply tlie deficiency by borrowing. The neighbor on whom he called for the purpose was surprised at such a request from Dobson, who was known to overflow with cask " What possible necessity, Mr. Dobson, has driven you to this? " said the man. - ^. Dobson, with a wild stare out of his bloodshot eyes, stam- mered an excuse for waiving the question. '' You knows, 1 i 160 '.^:^5js|^.j|A«uBT0Mj .,-.'; '.-t'-nj'^:,.:,^-:,. This did not satisfy Dobson. The poison of whiskey and of Gilfort's incantation hadFgone too deep, and wrought too powerfully upon his nerves, to admit of his feeling the force of such reasoning. His neighbor, therefore, lent him the money, determined to wateh the bridge, after the deposit was made, to see what would become of it. ■f,* .■.*■, MORE WORK FOR THB MAINE LAW. 191 Dobson felt that he was haunted. His hoose was full of spooks, which were yawling like cats through its rooms ainl passages, during the live-long night. He knew they were spooks, he said, because there were no cats in it, and he con- trived to be from home as much as possible. The night before depositing the money, he was away on a drunken brawl, and did not return till twelve o'clock. He was so overcome with liquor as to have just strength enough to put out his horse. He reached his bam, removed the saddle, and placed it on the ground, while he tied the horse and went up into the mow to get hay. As he clambered up, he saw, or thought he Baw, a spectral image, wrapped in a white sheet, standing in the come* of the hay-mow, and looking down upon him with flaming- eyes; \'.bich so terrified him that he well-nigh fell senseless on the floor, and had barely life to escape, leaving the saddle, the open barn and all, a prey to his cattle. He ran home and crept into his bed, more dead than alive. After an hour of feverish restlessness, the liquor in hib blood induced a fitful sleep, from which he was soon awaked by a brilliant light in his room. He sat up in bed and looked to see what it meant, when he saw three men, two in middle age, one of whom seemed to be sick, and the other was supporting him, while the third was an aged man, with gray locks hanging down upon his shoulders. Dobson gazed a moment in wild afiright, when the old man came to the foot of the bed, and looked him direct in the face, — and lo ! who should it be but the ghost of his own father, who had been dead some years ! Dobson tried to speak to him, but his tongue refused its cunning. He then tried to cry out, but his voice would not come. In a moment all vanished, and his room was dark as before. ^ ^ ^- ./ It was now three of the fetal morning, l^ot a wink had 192 jiaflbton; or, i.^- poor DobBon slept, after this frightful vision. Still, he oould not bring himself to deposit his money under the bridge. The miserly cords of his heart grew tighter and tighter, as the hour of parting with his idol approached. It seemed to him worse than death. Hu was iiore than half resolved to let the spooks take his soul, rather than his money. While these dreadful thoughts were revolving in his mind, and every nerve of sensation was strained to its utmost tension, he heard the rumbling of distant thunder. It came nearer and nearer, was more and more ten'ific, and he looked every moment for the lightnings to kindle on his house, according to the threat- ened vengeance of one of his letters. At length it broke directly over him in a terrific volley, and he believed that all his wealth would instantly be converted to ashes. He feared it was already too late to avert the doom ; whereupon, leap- ing out of bed like a maniac, he ran half-naked through the snow and winds of a dreadful morning, and left his bag of money under the bridge, and then made his escape, relieved of the intolerable burden upon his conscience. >..v »i - r ' Gilfort watched every movement ; and, no sooner had the deposit been made, than he crept from his lurking-place in disguise, to make sure of his prey. Nor did the neighbor of whom Dobson effected the loan reach the spot till Gilfort had pocketed the money, and was creeping from under the bridge. As he arrived at one end of the bridge, lo ! a spectre of horrid mien presented itself to his view, which made him quake with fear, and excited images in his mind most dread- ful to conceive. He saw through the deep, dusky morning, the dim outlines of what seemed a being of immensely tall proportions, covered^ with hair and surmounted above with horns, while a prodigious length of tail dangled behind, as he orept from najer the bridge. Witiial, there was a limp and \\ ft, MOBB WOBK FOR lUfi MAINS LAW. 198 amble in his gait that left the iflan no reason to doubt that it wag cloyen-foot himself. Choosing to avoid such an en- counter, and trusting to nimble feet, he took to his heels. A second thought restored his vapid courage, and he turned back bO try upon Old Scratch the virtue of a club with which he was armed. He met the mysterious being as he was mounting the bank of the creek, and levelled at him a pro- digious blow, which sent him tumbling upon the ice. Here he gathered up his huge length, ran under the bridge, and made his escape another way, the man being too much agi- tated bj doubt and fear to make good the, advantage which he had gained. - y , How much of this scene of enchantment was owing to Dobsou's inbred superstition, inflamed by whiskey, rhich has a mysterious connection with spiritual agency, as we have before stated ; or how much of it was brought about by Gil- fort's contrivance, as tbe ghosts and thunder, for instance ; or how much was real, we must leave the reader to judge. The appearance at the bridge was afterwards explained by the fact that Gilfort had gone to a tai^nery, pilfered an ox- hide, put it over him from head to foot, with horns projecting above and tail dangling at the other extremity, and in this disguise had appeared as the servant of the Most High, to fill his pockets with poor Dobson's money. The blow which was inflicted left an indelible mark on Gilfort's face just below the eye, which he afterwards gloried in as one of the wounds of an honorable warfare, ^a^v^ ;;4?- '^^^'t'\^-''^^!^'''i'-:i^''^:-->^^^-^^ *^^v f The robbery made much talk. Sundry innocent persons were taker up and examined, but, in default of proof, they were discharged. At length, suspicion fastened strongly upon Gilfort, from the fact of his attempt to borrow money, and a report that he had a sore face and a black eye about 17 194 MAPLETON; OR, those days. Besides, when tfie man who gave the hlow saw Gilfort, he made oath that ho believed him to be the man."* On this evidence he was taken up, and it would have gone hard with him, had he not found persons to swear to an alibi, whose testimony was thought to have been received with the greater readiness, on account of the influence of certain persons in conducting the prosecution, with whom Gilfort was united in a secret society. Thus we have endeavored to sketch faithfully this extraor- dinary case, in which there is much more of fact than ' of fiction, not only as showing the witchcraft of wine, but also the blighting influence of a successful religious impos- ture. In justice to Skampton, it must be said that his , relations to Gilfort were solely of a business kind, and he had \\ DO suspicion of his real character. Gilfort's spiritual nature ^ was thoroughly corrupted by his parentage, by his training, by wine, and by all his habits of thinking, feeling and act- ', ing. There was no congruity in his imposture, it is true ; but there was craft, cunning, intensity, and a bold spirit, rich in expedients to push on his great work in life, by any instrumentality that might chance to fall in his way. No corrupt influences are so much to be dreaded as those which assume identity with invisible power. The work of the Jesuits, in brutalizing the reason and conscience, is more &tal than a depopulated and devastated country in the train of conquering armies. These physical evils may be re- paired and restored by the innate energy of man and advancing population. Not so with the dark traces which a Ji*" triumphant fanaticism leaves on the subject mind, v Its perversions are written on a basis of adamant, and will not yield to the abrasion of time and improving reason. Errors of reli^on intrench themselves in those deep and powerful sym- (:% 1^ i' 1 1 i - \ w «. MORB WORK FOR THE MAINS LAW. 196 . "' -'i ' ':■■/■ ■ '- ' V ^\ ..' .' ''"■'■"; ^'hiy,'. "■ >'■■•'■' - :' pathies which wax as the other passions wane, and grow with . their decay. After connubial love is quenched in man's heart ; after death has unclenched the iron grasp of his ayarice ; . after ambition has ceased to pant for new laurels ; yea, after all the most active impulses are cold and dead, then, with a ' palsied hand, he writes his scarcely legible name, devising hia goods, and estates, and honors, as a sacrifice upon the altar of his fanaticism, to insure the rest of his soul in that unknown land which lies beyond. Then, amid the wrecks of . his earthly being, the diseased and distorted elements of his spiritual nature appear in their greatest activity, and achieve their mightiest victories. The clenched hand of avarice cannot withstand a power like this. Even Dobson is made to give his thousands, when, through.liquor, or the incaiitations . of an artful heresiarch, he comes distinctly to feel his con- nection with the spirit-land. ,. ••.-..„ ;,^^ ^ ^. , CHAPTER XIV. *f /l,T).-{Vi' i-fV?*^ J> - THE FORCES RECONNOITJIINQ. 0! s^- «• There are no tricks in plain and simple faith i^i^''*'^^*'^^'^ * But hollow men, like horses hot at hand, i^>^'.^:t) . .i# Make gallant show and promise of their mettle, |^ ^^>> But, when they should endure the bloody spur, . . , They fall their crests, and, like deceitful jades, ^^■^- Sink in the trial." -Shazspeaee.. m^'^mmmm- .. Relieved of pecuniary embarrassment, Gilfort now ap- plied to the main work in hand. He had peculiar advantages 196 MAPLBTONJ OB, M a lobby member. His positaon in the West, his oolonial fitme, the mysterious enchantment which invested his name, and his great powers of personal address, made his ante- room dominion irresistible and overwhelming. The members felt themselves flattered with the court paid to them by such a man. He shrewdly took them, one by one, and made each feel that he was a special favorite, and the chief reliance for the success of his suit against the Maine Law. The member, supposi ig himself the only one thus bnr ^red, freely gave the required pledge as an act of courtesy, reflecting within him- self that his Solidary vote could not materially afiect the result one way or the other. In this manner Gilfort artfully tied the hands of a majority in both houses from supporting the bill. He laughed in his sleeve at such a collection of dough-faces in the place of power over a great people. Meantime, the public mind was in a state of excited expectancy in reference to the battle between Bludgeon and his enemies. Some said one thing, and spme another. Betting ran high on both sides. If men stopped to talk at the corners of the streets, this was the subject. In the theatres, operas, hotels, barber-shops, counting-rooms, printing-oflfices, every- where, all the words, aside from the business in hand, were of the Maine Law, Saphead, Bludgeon, Skampton, Gilfort, and the great contest of which their city was to be the seat. Stories of Bludgeon were hawked about in the penny sheets, and newsmongers were reaping a golden harvest out of the excitement. But at no place was more felt or said on the subject than at Buck's Saloon. This was, externally, an unpretending-looking place near the capitol, where the m^- bers went to "liquor." Many a thundering oration found here its inspiration. Buck's Saloon was a powerful agent against the Maine Law. Its alcoholic fountain flowed to MORE WORK FOR THI3 MAINE LAW. 19T many a legislative gullet, to giye mettle and motion to the anti- temperance enterprise. The front* door of Buck's was a plain one, with a screen standing within, to cast a shading over the splendid drinking saloon into which it opened, the entire back end of which was occupied by the bar, from which the tempting bait presented to longing eyes every variety of hue, from pale ale to brown stout and London porter, and from Scotch whiskey to cloudy port. A row of men, swallow- ing down the mind-killing potion, were arranged in front, like a forlorn hope in the very teeth of the enemy's batteries. ,,^ In a side room, which had its own entrance from the street, and from which the drinking saloon was cautiously concealed, might be seen rows of white marble circular tables, at each of which, at almost all hours of the twenty-four, might be seen — as also at a succession of side-tables of like material — parties of ladies and gentlemen, over ices, sherbets, oyster- soups, roast oysters, fricasseed chickens, tarts, jellies, pies, nuts, raisins, cakes, according to the liking of each; with here and there a modest glass of wine, like a cat in a strange garret. This was a beverage allowed in this room only for special purposes, that temperance customers might not take the alarm, and withdraw their patronage. Directly back of these rooms, shaded passages led to a splendid bowling-alley, on the right of which was a drinking recess to accommodate the bowlers, and also to stow away those who had become decidedly tight in the drinking saloon ; while to the left was a gambling haunt, — the sanctum sanctorum of the hell, — to which only its consecrated priests were admitted. Here, fi:t)m morning to night, and night to morning, week in and we6k out, year in and year out, the landsharks preyed upon their victims, to whom they dealt out robbery, suicide and murder, by wholesale. .17* % 198 MAPLBION; OB, These haunts were unusually full, as the time of Bludgeon's appearance drew on. In the drinking saloon discussion ran high, and sometimes ended in blows. On one of these even- ings, Mr. Meserve, the member from New York, met Mr. Whittemore, a senator from the country. " What will you take ? " said Meserve. "I 'ma temperance man, sir," replied Whittemore. "I never take anything." " Confound you ! what are you here for, then ? A spy, eh ? to get ammunition for this cursed Bludgeon's gun ! " "So long as I behave like a gentleman, Meserve, I'm entitled to be treated with respect. Are you a secret police, to inquire into men's motives? " "No; only, if you are a Bludgeon man, this is no place for you." " I am a friend of temperance ; I owe my place in the Senate to my being so, and I am never ashamed to own it, here or anywhere. But this does not preclude me from a little bowling exercise, after so many hours of confinement to my seat in the house." "Ay, ay; if that's your object, I'll join you. Cath- burt, how are you? " added Meserve, to a' young man who at that moment entered. " Nicely, thank you." "No, Cathburt, you are not nicely; you needn't think to deceive me ; your face looks lightning-struck. Have you been in a thunder-storm ? " " What will you take, Meserve? " said the young man, anxious to elude th:3 catechetical scrutiny, as his haggard face, his wandering, restless eye, his parched lips, and excited demeanor, told too plainly that his mind was the seat of tor- menting ideas, which, in default of a tongue to make them- i.|v MOBE WOBK FOR THE MAINE LAW. 190 selves yisible, were thus pushing themselves into notice through all the cracks and crevices of the soul. " Mint-julep, I think," replied Meserve. "'Twill cool the heated brain, and make us ourselves again. Let 's be merry while we can. Bludgeon 's at hand, to blow us sky- high." " Would he 'd come a week sooner ! " replied Cathburt, with an involuntary sigh. " What ails you, Cathburt ? In love 7 Heard from your father of late 1 Anything the matter ? " " Come, here 's for you," said Cathburt, taking a julep from the waiter, and handing it to Meserve, and beginning to sip his own. "Do you know this Bludgeon, Whittemore '? " inquired Meserve. '- " Yes, like a book. He 's a roarer. Meserve, I want you to pledge me that you will not drink a drop that intoxicates for one week, and that you '11 give up that week to hearing Bludgeon. Then see if you '11 laugh at the pledge any more. I much doubt if you did n't stick it on your hat, and wear it as a cockade." , " Go to destruction ! I'd as soon have a thief 's mark." " Yes, a cropped ear would be honorable in the comparison," replied Durable, another man from the country, who had just joined the party. ." Confound Bludgeon! I'll drink in spite of him and all his crew, — that I will ! " said Me°erve, sucking the last drop of his julep. " Now, gentlemen, I 'm ready for a round." The party adjourned to the bowling-alley, and commenced rolling. Whittemore felt himself in an awkward position, as well he might, and could get up no spirit for the game. Cathburt was still more spiritless ; the left door — which the 200 wmmmmmmmmm MAPLHTOK; OR, oUiers did not understand — occupying ill his attention. A siren voice seemed luring him upon the gambler's dangerqns coast, against which his principles and his yows remonstrated, but towards which a mysteiious spell was urging him by its &tal enchantments. At length he excused himself, and entered the dangerous door. This broke up the party, and the others stepped into the drinking recess to rest themselves. Here they found twenty or thirty persons in the various stages of intoxication, from the excitement of the first glass, to stolid, beaptly insensibility. " Gentlemen, let 's eat and drink, for to-morrow — Blugdeon comes ! " said Meserve, with a laugh. " To-morrow we die, you mean rather," added Durable. ''It's hard to tell which is the wo^.'se, dying or being choked by this blood-hound. He 's rained my business." " Then you, too, know Bludgeon, Bumble ? " baid Meserve. " Yes, to my cost. He licid been to our town, and, by his endless vclatter, has spoilt my tavern-stand. Othello's occu- pation 's gone, and he 's here looking for business." " Is your name Othello ? " inquired a half-drunk, stupid looking fellow. "I — I — I have a friend of that 'cxe name." "No," said Bumble, laughing, " I mean, by Ofliello, a;iy man who is driven out of the liquor-business by this cursed temperance movement." "Yes, 'pon my honor," said the fellow, "this reformed drunkard. Bludgeon, is drunker than any of us. That 's my opinion." "Bown with Bludgeon! Bown with Bludgeon!" was now the general cry. ^ " Gentlemen," said Whittemore, " though I am not in the habit of betting, I '11 wager ten dollars against one, on every person in the room, that, if he will follow up Bludgeon, in MORE WORK FOR T&A MAINS LAW. J) eTery diseoiuBe, for one week, and will not drink a drop that intoxicates in the mean-time, be will take the pledge, i^d become a temperance man." "I'll take you up at that," said Meserve ; " plank your dollars, and I will mine ! " " You '11 lose your money, Meserve," said Bumble. " You have no idea of this man's thunder. He 's an iron battery, whose guns always hit. Besides, the victory is in the condi- tion of this bet: not to taste liquor for a week. That's enough to put any man in the notion of drinking no more." ' "I cannot plank my money," said Whittemore, "till I see how many will stand to the conditions." " I 'U stand." " And so will I." " And I," " I," " I," — until all were pledged, except those who were too fer gone to understand the question. "I'll hear Bludgeon," said one, " and 1 wish to God it might mi^e me a temperate man ! " " My sufferings, in body and mind," said another bloated, trembling victim, "no tongue can express. I'd give worlds to be as I was before I ever drank ! " " My mother preyed, with her dying breath, that I might be saved from rum, of which my father was a victim," said another, beginning to weep at this recollection of his mother. Ah, how little do we consider the miseries of the vicious ! The tendencies to reformation underlie the most unpromising characters. The silent workings of conscience ; anticipations of ft coming judgment ; the heart-sickness which vice induces ; the sweet memory of days of comparative innocence, when a mother's fond eye, a sister's love, and a brother's confidence, oc- cupied the place of present scorn, neglect and infamy ; all these, and many other causes exist, to predispose to virtue even those now most abandoned ; provided the hope of securing so pre- 202 maplbton; or, ^M' cious a boon were once to get possession of the mind. The hopelessness of vice is one of the great reasons of its per- petuity. Can the harlot expect to be otherwise than a harlot still 1 If in conduct she amends, in social position she is the same. The hope of returiiing to innocence, or justification, is the great desideratum of Christianity. So, hope is what our temperance reformers must carry with them, when they visit earth's hells, and deal with its lost spirits. All that is wanted, in many cases, is the encouragement that friends, health, peace and prosperity, will surely follow the total aban- donment of the cup. To supply a hope like this is a part of philanthropy's work, of which we find the highest precedent in the religion we profess. ., Cathburt found the gambling company in full blast. Two noted gamblers. Gripe and Bobbin, were the ruling geniuses of the place. They were cool, collected, sharp-sighted, deep- seated villains, who could read cards as well on the back as the face, and who could conjure them into just such a position in the pack in ghuffling as they desired. Their business was to decoy in those who had money, — young men, for the most part, who were fond of cards, and adepts in them in their own estimation, but who had never gambled, except occasionally to stake the liquor they needed to give them inspiration. Gripe and Bobbin would take care that the game should go against themselves so long as this liquor-betting continued ; but, as soon as the excitement ran high enough for dollars by the ten and the hundred, then they were on hand, and the tyro £<;ambler would be sure to come o£f minus all he had. Cathburt had been thus taken in, which was the Ci^use of his haggard and excited appearance. Night after night he had followed up the damning game, losing, but hoping to regain all by the next cast, till every cent was j^one, except five ' ' ' ■■ J^-^ ■ M MORE WORK FOR THE MAINE LAW. ft' . .-^ 'ji.- "SA:'.';,'i.>v tboiisand dbliajfs, wMob Bid fatner had sent fiiin fo takd'np a mortgage with, that had long encumbered the family estate, to the unspeakable annoyance of all the household. His labor-stricken parents had toiled, and saved, and economized, and stinted themselves to the lowest supplies of their personal wants, in order to relieve the property, out of which they.« hoped to live in their extreme old age, of this encumbrance. As soon as Cathburt lost all his own money, he resolved he would go no further. He would not plank a cent of the five thousand dollars which his father had intrusted to him. But Gripe, who divined the state of the case with him, as soon as he entered the room again, abandoned all other customers, and bestowed upon him his sole attention. He was all smiles, spoke of the loss of Cathburt's money as the merest accident, and was sure so accomplished a player would win it all back again, and especially at cribbage, in which he knew he was so very expert. — " Let us try"t)ur hand at crib, Mr. Cathburt, which you like so much, and which we two can play together. It is a scientific game, and the discipline I hope to acquire by means of it will reconcile me to the money which I know you cannot fail to win from me." =*-^ v U:^ i.^,,,^^Q^-;A-^M. " No, Gripe, my vow is taken, and you need not per- suade." " Well, if you have grown so puritanic all at once as not to play for money, I'll stake with you a bottle of Buck's best," — an excellent quality of old Madeira, to be had only at Buck's. The temptation took with the excited Cathburt, and he accepted and won the bet at cribbage. Cathburt drank more than his share of the wine ; and, alas ! it proved to him gambling wine indeed; exciting the most brilliant hopes of winning a fortune at cards, and overcoming all his repugnance to planking his Cither's money. At it they went, betting iV- \ # mmmmmmmm 204 MAPLETON; OR, h'' small at first, then larger and larger, until the If^t cent of the five thoasand dollars melted away under his hand. It was now three of the lurid morning. The consciousness of , the full extent of the dreadful calamity rolled over him like a crushing mountain. His head was giddy, and he reeled >■ towards a door opening into the back-yard, through which he ■ disappeared. \^.-i'i---K::^i:../J:'-i^-'''.::-^^^l^^^^^ ■ K "Suppose our doings were revealed to Bludgeon," said another young man, who had &red little better in the hands of Bobbin. '' The scoundrel that does such a deed will get that through ' his heart! " said Gripe, drawing a gleaming stiletto blade from its concealed scabbard in his bosom. '' Better have all the New York police upon us than that blackguard ! " ' r '' But I '11 6^ daylight through jbim, the moment he moves his viper tongue against Buck's Saloon!" said Bobbin, drawing a sword-cane, and flourishing it around his head. The young man cowered under arguments like these, of which he had no mistrust till this moment. Morning came, but no Cathburt appeared. The search became. exciting and universal. Meantime, Saphead returned at the Lead of his marshalled legions, and they went into session, with the Honorable Michael Skampton in the chair. ^Dhe first meeting was enormous, and, being for the most part men variously connected with the liquor business, iLit<^re8t had whetted them to malignity against the Maine Law and its friends. Skampton, in his opening speech, breathed out the i-abid conservatism of his spirit in general, more than against this specific law. "We are met," he said, ''to devise a remedy for the innovations of the age. All the old land- marks of doctrine, usage, legislation and business, are in danger of gouag by the board. It has coqie to that, that a . ' f ■ MORE WORK FOR THE MAINE LAW. 205 t cent of and. It sness of him like he reeled which he m," said be hands through ade from e all the ment he Bobbin, lead. Iiese, of I search eturned nt into e chair. )st part est had ani its )ut the against svise a land- are in that ft man who retires at nig^t an honest tradesman earning his bread by the sweat of his face wakes up in the morning and finds himself a criminal before the law and public opinion. He has no alternative but to change his business, and leave his family to starve, or submit to fine and imprisonment. My old uncle made a large fortune by importing servants from Africa ; but, if I were to do it, I should be punished as a pirate and an outlaw. And now there is a restless set of vagabonds among us, who are determined to place in the same category those who hold slaves and deal in liquor. Will you submit to these innovations, gentlemen, — will you 7" * ■ r/: MORE WORK FOR THE MAINS LAW. 207 " That the enactment of such a law bj any legislative majority, however great, would be the usurpation of despotic powers, and an invasion of constitutional rights." Are not any laws prohibiting the liquor traffic without license equally so ? " That we regard this law as the audacious, unscrupulous, and fanatical project of certain conventional associations, known as Temperance or Total Abstinence Societies, acting in concerted combination, and actuated by a prurient, perverted, and reckless zeal to effect, by legislative coercion, and the ultimate physical force of the law, extreme and impracticable purposes, which their moral influence has confessedly failed to accomplish. These societies have incurred the just indig- nation and political resistance and hostility of every enlight- ened freeman of the land, as the chief instigators and abettors of a despotic usurpation, more degrading to the moral volition > and dignity of a free people, and more atrocious in its political character, than anything which history records." (^ ^ More so than the law of nuisances? Yet, no nuisance known to legislation can equal, in its aggressions upon the well-being of society, the present liquor business and drink- ing customs. Despotic to 'prevent the crimes we so rigorously punish ? Despotic to place our greatest cause of pauperage and wretchedness under restraint 7 Despotic to say to such a man as Skampton, "You shall not corrupt Mapleton society by introducing a groggery"? Equitable and right to encourage, by license of law, the ruin introduced into the 'X,I^ufl^^i^ and Douglass families, and the deeds of death at Bucks' Saloon, — and despotic to prevent them ? To what absurdities will not interest impel us? '' That the accustomed beverages of civilized men, interdicted and rendered unobtainable by this threatened law, are essen- 208 MAPLBTON; Oft, tial to the health and comfort, the social enjoyment, atid the beneficial intercourse, of a large number of persons in eyery community, and w&o now use them unobjectionably and wor- thily, for these desirable purposes." And yet, from this unobjectionable and worthy use come drunkenness, insanity, crime, pauperage, and six or eight tenths of the consequent expense to the tax-paying community! " That man, as a superior, social and moral being, exercis- ing a rational intelligence and choice as to what Is most bene- ficial and agreeable to himself, can no more be confined, by restrictive legislation, to the drink of the inferior animals, than to their food or clothing ; and requires neither medical nor legislative prescriptions for the ordinary preservation of his health, or recuperation of his strength, nor the example either of drunkards or reformed drunkards to protect his morals." This waa a first gun at Bludgeon, —l-^ --^ w. ..* .• " That we are convinced, both by observation and reflec- tion, that the infatuated total abstinence from agreeable, nutri- tious and renovating beverages, under conventional and unmitigated obligations, has caused, and is still causing, a greater sacrifice of health and life than even the intemperate abuse of them ; the former victims, of both sexes, being far more numerous than the latter, though less publicly known." Men dying for the want of alcohol, to whom God has opened the boundless stores of animal and vegetable nature ! Why has not poor Skampton, and many like him, who never taste the bane out of which they make their wealth, long since died^ of abstinence? There is no reasoning with this venerable"^ committee. They are mad upon their idols. " That it is undeniable and obvious that but comparatively few persons, in any community, immoderately and immorally abuse these beverages, out of the vast majority who moder- \\ MORS WORE FOR THE MAINE LAW. 209 >) ately, virtuouslj and beneficially, use them; and that their abuse by the few is no just reason for their being interdicted to the many." This comparatively few Ihake an aggregate of thirty thousand drunkards that die annually in the United States. '' It has cost our country, in ten years, for alcoholic beverages," says Edward Everett, " one hundred millions of dollars; has burned five millions more of property; has destroyed three hundred thousand lives ; has sent one hun- dred and fifty thousand to the prisons, and one hundred thou- sand children to the poorhouse ; caused fifteen hundred mur- ders, two thousand suicides, and has bequeathed to the country one hundred thousand orphan children." ,., . . , , " That the abuse of them, however sincerely and deeply to be deplored, is grossly and ridiculously, though systematically, exaggerated, as a source of pauperism and crime ; nearly all the evils of society being fanatically ascribed to this cause, to the exclusion of all other causes inherent in human nature and its imperfect social condition, and in impudent defiance of the notorious fact that these evils prevail, to at least an equal extent, in those countries where such beverages have been absolutely interdicted, both by civil and religious law, and total abstinence established for more than a thousand years." Figures cannot lie. Of five thousand three hun- dred and twelve arrests in Montreal, the police report says " the greater number resulted from the too free use of intox- icating drink." And this accords to the municipal history of every city on the continent. Opium-eating, bad govern- ment, false religion, and other causes of social misery and crime, no doubt exist in Turkey, to produce a worse state of things than with us ; though those peculiar forms of crime which ate here produced by drunkenness are there quite 18* \ 210 MAPLBTON; Oft, 'iii,4**fiUr. anknown. Our oommittee, in this resolution, are not sus- tained by facts. " That these beverages are not necessarily intoxicating, as is falsely and fanatically assumed by the conventional advo- cates of the proposed law, in the face of common experience and observation." They only necessarily lead more or less to intoxication, where they are freely used as a beverage. " That the vice of intoxication, now rapidly diminisliing among all classes, under the influence of moral suasion and example, would be aggravated by clandestine indulgences, under the proposed law ; while the laws now existing, properly enforced, would be fully adequate to suppress its grosser manifestations and consequences." They are not enforced, nor can they be, for the lack of effective penalties. *,- - » * " That the enforcement of the proposed law would cause a loss of many millions invested in the liquor business J' Lost ! No; but turned into safer and better investments. ^ ■ "^ "' "That the Maine Law cannot be enforced, except amid scenes of riot and bloodshed, in which, though its reckless advocates would be the chief sufferers, vast multitudes of the population would be involved, and which would he too fright- ful in their results for any but callous fanatics to contemplate without horror and dismay." It has been enforced in Maine without the loss of a single life, and with a vast diminution of crime and pauperage, — and why may it not be elsewhere? Some other sentiments were proposed, but rejected, because they were deemed inappropriate to the committee as a whole. One was, "That church-members have no right to associate with worldly men in carrying out temperance measures; because they thus neutralize their religion by mixing it with human ingredients, and seek to do by a worldly organization the work which Christ has assigned to his church." But, if MORB WORK P6R THH MAINE LAW. Sll we may belong to that ciAl society which upholds the liquor traffic, may we not to an organization for pulling it down 1 If worldly men will go with us in a Christian reform, are we authorized to forbid them? " Forbid them not." Peter Pegan, our conservative editor, being one of the committee, now gave signs of having something on his mind. His meagre, misshapen person, after various contortions, assumed a position as erect as the burden of its responsibili- ties would admit, and said, ,-- .; - , is-i^t r,,\,p.A"'>'. " Gentlemen, you know how many subscribers I have lost by means of these temperance fanatics. I cannot, of course, expect pecuniary compensation ; but it would be an unction to my burdened mind to know that I had your approbation, and that you were disposed to give my paper the position to which my labors and sacrifices entitle it. It is the oldest, has the largest circulation, and, withal, is more central to those who act with us. For these reasons, is it too much to ask that it should be made the oracle of the conservative movement?" 'n.^v^i?^ .. •■^ ■'-::/^n;.-^^:^;;,,.^v..— . ■ >.: ,-, ■v•;•^A. " Certainly not; certainly not," responded various voices. " Moreover, gentlemen, it is but just that I should acquaint you witih the perfect system to which, after much experience, I have reduced the powerful enginery of the periodical press. Take the matter of pvffs, caustics and blanks^ for instance, and you will see how impossible it is for the public to with- stand my well-charged artillery. I suppose twenty thousand persons are looking to me for that food for their vanity which Js dealt out through the columns of a newspaper. Hence, I am obliged to drive a great trade in pu£& ; and, to do it most effectively, I have arranged the matter to be included in them into a hundred divisions, and have written that numbw of pu£&, and had them stereotyped, with vacant places for such ES 212 MAPLETON; OB, names as I please to insert. Th^se puffs I keep constantly in use, as the most popular branch of mj business. In some plates I stereotype name and all, and keep them as constantly before the public as quack advertisements. You cannot imagine, gentlemen, the facilities for my business which I derive from these plates. I can cater to the public vanity at half the expense. " Besides, I have fifty plates, which, in the parlance of my office, are called caustics, because they vex and cauterize as much as a puff soothes and pleases. These caustic-plates rise in severity, so that the last is fifty times as severe and abusive as the first. All above forty I consider a dead shot, ruin- ing forever those at whom they are aimed. They are equal to the racks of the Inquisition, and make me as formidable. Most men will bow rather than submit to a shot. . But, as to the few that set them at defiance, I dispose of them with a blank, which consists in simply omitting their names wholly from my columns. There are those who prefer to stand fifty caustics to one blank, so strong is their passion for notoriety. To be the devil, and known, is to them better than being an angel, incognito." Whereupon, another resolution was added, to recommend Pegan's paper as the universal organ of conservatism. Mr. Saphead thought the resolutions were not severe enough. "Gentlemen," said he, "I go for David's policy of scratching out the eyes of a foe. He says, ' He maketh my feet like hens' feet.' " There was now a great commotion of the risibles in com- mittee, one saying hinds^ feet, and another, and others still, repeated hinds' feet, accenting the mistaken word with great distinctness. Saphead, perplexed at the interruption,*"and not yet comprehending the cause, yelled out, with all his might, (C hu MORS WOR":^ FOR THE MAINE LAW. hi ity at "Didn't I say hens' feet 7" at the same time smiting his huge chest, and making it shake like a pot of jelly. "Very well," said one and another, "let him go on. Saphead is a good creature ; he is one of us, and always means right." " Those who can scratch, dirt, eyes, anything that needs scratching, are the men for me," continued Saphead, " *He maketh my feet like hens' feet.' " Howsomever, gents, as you do not like figures of speech, I offer, in plain English, the following sentiment, that we appeal to Judge Lynch. His is the only court to do justice in such cases. With the encouragement of my betters, I '11 take off Bludgeon within twenty-four hours. A score of sturdy fellows from Buck's Saloon, well charged with Buck's best, will do the work in a flash." "No, no, that'll never do," responded some. "It'll insure the passage of this detestable law," added others. " Saphead, you 're too bad." " What ! is 't worse for us to tar and feather Bludgeon, and rail him out of town, than for him to do this to Mr. Skamp- ton's tenant in Mapleton ? " replied Saphead, anxious to soften down his proposition as much as possible ; whereupon he resumed his seat, with labored breathing, like a harpooned whale. To the honor of the committee be it said^ this sug- gested assassination received no countenance from them, 1 1 hip liii 214 W ■•'■ I. ■r ' MAPLEION; OB ) «- CHAPTER XV. BLUDGEON FIGHTINQ THE DEVIL. • " Now storming ftiry rose, And clamor such as heard in heaven till now Was never." — — " Dire was the noise Of conflict. Overhead the dismal hiss Of fiery darts in flaming volleys flew, And flying vaulted either host with fire." — Milton. Meantime Bludgeon had commenced the onset. Expecta- tion, curiosity and the surging waves of excitement, were his harbingers. His place of meeting was the largest the city could afford, and was thronged to its utmost capacity, from his first lecture to the last. Bludgeon's position included much more, by this time, than that of reformed drunkard, or trav- elling lecturer. He spake as one having authority. He had dwelt upon the woes of mankind till they all found a response in his glowing heart. He poured out scalding tears in secret over this sin-blighted world. He had a divine commission to redress the wrongs of society. If he began as a blackguard, he ended .with the spirit of a saint and a martyr. He felt the insufficiency of worldly or prudential considerations, in deal- ing with the mil passions, opinions and customs of mankind, and had intrenched himself within the higher sanctions of religion, God, and eternity. His satire was scathing, but was evidently pointed with love. He had come to rely mainly upon appeals to the conscience, by means of those truths and motives which Christianity supplies, in which, on some occasions, his pathos and power equalled those of White- field he n sane low thin] goot T I I i Mi MORE WORK FOR THE MAINE LAW. 215 field, or any of the clerical lights of a former age. And yet, he never merged himself in the staid habits and professional sanctity of a clergyman ; but was free, excursive, sometimes low and vulgar, and altogether more effective with the un- thinking rabble than he would have been with less to ofifend good taste, and more to gratify a fastidious refinement. Though Bludgeon began as a temperance lecturer, he had become a battle-axe upon all mal-practice in individual and community, in family and neighborhood, in church and in state, in slavery and in freedom, his lectures being desultory harangues against general and specific evils. His beginning was in a subdued tone, cool, unimpassioned, and apparently in a chastened and benevolent state of feeling. His tonsils, swollen by much speaking, rendered his voice hoarse and husky, Uke the croaking of a crane, or like the tones of a cracked bell mufiied ; and yet it had a marvellous efiect on the nerves of an audience. No matter how c/owded, how discordant its elements, or how bitter the malignity raging against himself, a few sentences, pronounced in his pecuhar manner, would produce the stillness of death. In manner he was rough, uncouth, and eccentric. His training, under such a mother and in such a family, was but too visible. A delicate mind heard him with more pain than pleasure. But these disadvantages, strange as it may seem, rather increased the efiect, just as sawing ofl" a muscle jars more terribly than dissecting it by means of a keen surgical instrument. Dis- gusted or otherwise, the cases were rare in which persons, cultivated or uncultivated, hearing him once, did not feel a mysterious desire to hear him again. The magic of his in- fluence was so irresistible that, in rain or sunshine, in snow and sleet, in mud and water, his audiences were alike over- whelming. His harangues were at first plain and practical, # m if Urn m m 216 MAPLETON; OR, m ]-m I m delivered in the spirit of love and zeal, and of a character deeply to impress the heart. They were faithful, pungent, and powerful in application. He was minute in describing the various phases of a man's downward career in vice. The eflFec*: of alcohol upon the vital organs, in changing them from scarlet to crimson, and from crimson to purple, and from pur- ple to blue, and from blue to the black of gangrene and putrefaction, was represented to the audience in a successior of drawings, on which his remarks were always graphic and powerful. He not only developed the anatomy of intemper- ance, but its moral feelings, tracing, with terrible accuracy, the ten thousand windings of the human heart, accompanied by appeals so searching, excoriating and irresistible, that every dormant fear was awakened, every latent memory of violated vows suggested, every smothered aspiration after temperance and virtue was inflamed to the highest pitch of intensity. Thus, in a short time, he had gathered around him an invincible band, whose confidence in their leader was unbounded, whose zeal had the fault of being excessive, if that were possible in such a cause, and who were prepared to go with him to death in doing battle upon the rampant wick- edness of the world. This spirit Bludgeon fanned by all the arts at his com- mand, pouring out vials of scalding wrath upon those who came not up to the measure of his own views as to the evils of intemperance, the necessity of the Maine Law, and the obli- gation and power of the total abstinence pledge, as a specific Rgainat this vice. His body-guard he gathered up, for the most part, from the gutters, and from the hells of intemper- ance. They- were men that felt the evils of the monster, as nothing but experience can make one feel. Buck's Saloon contributed a large proportion of them, and Whittemore more ' MOBE WORE FOB THE MAINE LAW. 217 than won his bet. Some of them gave up their whole time, going from house to house, groggerj to groggery, and scat- tering the fire of feeling on the all-absorbing topic in every direction. The pathos and interest which they breathed into their work exceed our powers of description. The woes of the world had become their own. Their sympathy in drunk- ards and drunkards' families derived intensity from their own bitter recollections. Contact with them was sure to impart the infection of their zeal for reformation. The flame of feeling followed in their train, as burning hamlets and vil- lages a stream of volcanic fire. The harangues of Bludgeon were the impulsive centre of the mighty movement. His very person was a battery which liis enemies feared to en- counter. It was an iron frame, set on fire by a mighty idea, and the pregnant lightnings played around his features and flashed from his eyes in volleyed power. Bullets are not the most effective missiles to be hurled at a foe. The genius of Napoleon was reckoned equal to a hundred thousand charging grenadiers. The intellectuale and morale have a force ex- ceeding all physical warfare. Thus with Bludgeon's shots. They were aimed with more than the deadly certainty of modern artillery, taking effect upon the strong-hold in which vice and sin have intrenched themselves. Public sensation rose so high, through the efforts of his forlorn hope and his own excoriating appeals, that all the nerves of feeling among a hundred thousand people were :winging and twanging like the overstrained chords of a harp, giving forth notes of acqui- escence, or resistance, according to the character and social position of those from whom they came. Already the num- ber who had taken the pledge amounted to many thousands. The groggeries were abandoned, and the liquor-desders were in the greatest consternation. 19 i !*ll ^ '■[■is :>i-i m 218 MAPLETON; OR, J '%, Now, therefore, Bludgeon felt himself prepared for a bold push, and accordingly gave notice that on a certain evening he should expose by name those who were in various ways lending themselves to the vices of alcohol. He should attack certain public houses in which the monster kennelled, and should reveal deeds of whicn the puliic had no mistrust. This notice was received by the abandoned, far and near, and especially by hotel-keepers, as a formal challenge ; and, dread- ing exposure by their fearless assailant, they were driven to desperation, and prepared for a sanguinary defence. Society was stirred up from its deepest ca\rerns, and its troubled ele- ments dashed, and foamed, and raged, and lashed their ada- mantine barriers, as when an earthquake breaks up the bed of the sea, and drives its waters into new channels and cavities. Two events now occurred to increase the power of the movement, and to render the community the more disposed to tolerate this dangerous expedient of attacking private charac- ter, upon which Bludgeon had been precipitated, in the intem- perance of his zeal. One of these events had respect to the Skampton convention, and the other to Buck's Saloon. That convention had suffered a most mortifying depopulation, through the general rush to Bludgeon's lectures. The lead- ers, galled by their waning influence, employed the most attractive and distinguished speakers to discuss their founda- tion principles, and thus restore to themselves, the errant pop- ulace. But it would not work. There was no thunder in their principles, and none in their souls. At length, one of those untoward events happened to which all deliberative as- semblies are subject, to turn the laugh upon them, and to an- nihilate their little remaining influence. In the progress of these brilliant speeches on the refining and ennobling effects MORE WORK FOR THE MAINE LAW 219 of alcoholic beverages, on the social amenities of which they are the instrument, on their influence upon our civilization, and the certainty that we shall revert to barbarism without them, pn the health they promote, and the diseases inevitable to their disuse, and much more in the same strain, Sap- head, animated by the discussion, got the floor, and perpe- trated one of those bulls which were common to him. Think- ing to be very impressive, he began abruptly, aaying, "Friends, did you ever see a railroad start? Yes; I s'pose you have. Well, they goes glib ; so this ere business goes glib ; wine goes glib ; Buck's best goes glib ; it makes us feel nice; it gi's strength to the weak; it gi's health to the sick ; it gi's motion to the tongue ; it gi's ideas to the mind ; it gi's good cheer to the faint. ' Give strong drink to the heavy heart,' says Paul ; and he knows better than fifty Bludgeons." As if this speech were not enough for the mortification of the rum leaders, it was followed by one from Tooney, whose bacchanalian travels had brought him to the city, where he did enough to get the means of keeping himself drunk. In squalid wretchedness, without collar or cravat, and in the filthy attire of a drunkard throughout, bloated in face, inflamed and watery in eye, and trembling in his whole frame, he rose, staggering to the top of his seat, and, in spite of efibrts to the contrary, delivered himself thus, in confirmation Oi Saphead's speech : " Yer honors, that's my mind, 'xactly. I have had more 'xparance than any ither mother's son o' ye. On me sowl, I lif by the good cratur. He makes me cha'ary ; he gifs me stringth; plase yer honors, he do." This speech was followed by a roar of laughter, and, appearing in the dailies of the next morning, it set the whole city agog, at the expense of Skampton and his convention. ii 220 MAPLBION; OB, The othor event was thus related to Bludgeon in a note, which reached him just as he was rising to begin his lecture. "Sir: Cathburt is found. A servant at Buck's went into the back-yard, to draw water, and found his body float- ing in the well. He has this moment been taken out. He lies in the room where the gamblers, it is supposed, made him their victim. His poor father and mother are frantic with grief." Bludgeon began his lecture by reading this note, and an assault upon Buck's Saloon the most scorching and terrible. From that day forth. Buck wandered as a ghost in his own I! i' abandoned haunts, till he was ejected, and committed to prison for forging a draft to relieve himself from debt. The greatest nuisance in the city thus perished, without hope. The parents of Cathburt had come in search of their son, and stood at the top of the well when his lifeless body was drawn up. Such a scene is easier imagined than described. The loss of their only son, the robbery of his money, — now first ascertained by searching his pockets, — a childless old age of penury ip prospect, and, more than all, the self-accusation of having ever allowed their son cards as an amusement, which had fitted him to be taken in the snare, all together concurred to inflict wounds on their parental feelings which could never be healed. Bludgeon set on foot a subscription to take up their mortgage, and headed it with the liberal sum of five hundred dollars, — more than all he was worth, but which he was enabled to pay through the contributions of his f'-ionds. The five thousand dollars were soon raised, and enough in addition to pay all expenses ; and the poor old people were sent on their way with all the alleviation to be derived from MORE WORK FOR THE MAINE LAW. 221 such an act of benevolence. The faithfulness, zeal and liber- ality of Bludgeon, in this case, tended immeasurably to increase his power. The time at length arrived for Bludgeon's appointed onset to begin. Skampton and his followers, having now no other resource left them, resolved to attend on the occasion in a bodyj confident that his attacks on personal character would furnish the means of silencing their eaemy by suits at law. Consequently, the audience was immense. The largest rail- road depot had been obtained to accommodate it, and it was thought that not less than eight thousand persons were crowded into it. Expectation was on tiptoe, and excitement up to welding heat. Indeed, what was said owed its effect not so much to anything in itself as to the previous train of events, and the absolute confidence of success which animated the leader and his assailing host. There is no courage like that which arises from the sense of maintaining right against wrong. " The righteous are as bold as a lion." When the rum convention arrived, in all the pomp of pro- cession, they were surprised to find seats reserved for them in a body, and no signs of timidity evinced on account of their presence. They expected to see Bludgeon cower before so august a presence ; whereas he seemed hardly aware of it, so intently was he absorbed in higher interests. The audience was made up of all kinds of characters, — drunkards, gam- blers, extortioners, liars, infidels of every grade, scoffers, pro- fane swearers, libertines, and all the wrecks and pests of soci- ety, as well as of the decent and the virtuous. The latter had come from curiosity, or to aid the cause of reform, while the former determined to protect themselves from the .dreaded exposures, even if they had to do it with the blood of him who should venture to make them. Interspersed among the out- 19* ■il i.i fci P m i 'Ml 222 MAPiSTON; OR, i'i k 7 cast multitudes, here and there, were Bludgeon's forlorn hope, or body-guard, with whom he had arranged to help him, in the event of a tumultuous outbreak. The audience being duly seated, and ready, Bludgeon rose coolly and fear- lessly, while the stillness of death reigned on every hand. He stood on a platform, near the centre of a sea of heads. The bleak winds of March howled around the vast structure, and, amid the awe-inspiring sounds, now distinctly audible from the deep silence, Bludgeon exclaimed, abruptly, " I beheld Satan as lightning fall from heaven ! " His eyes flashed fire as he spoke, and his pale, haggard face, and croaking voice, betokened a man from the tombs rather than from the activities of the living world. The audience were electrified by the first onset. " Such, my friends, is what I behold in you this night," said Bludgeon, his action giving the impress of reality to his words. '' This is as clear to me as the fall of Satan was to our great Master. Falling from pleasure, from wine, from lust, from honor, from virtue, from hope, sweet hope, that comes to all, down, down, down, to deep, dark, eternal infamy, where pleasure is pain, where wine becomes a burn- ing pestilence within, where lust ends in rottenness, honor in shame, virtue in incurable vice, and hope in the blackness of despair ; where the scalding drops of incensed justice will fall upon you forever !" Starting up, with a shudder, at what he had depicted, with streaming eyes, and a countenance now beaming love and solicitude, he added, " I come to-night, my friends, to arrest you in this dan- gerous fall. I come to-night to assure you that total absti- » nence from the vice which kills will be its cure. But you hate me ; you lie about me. You say that Bludgeon is a y ti MORE WORK FOR THE MAINE LAW. 228 knave and a deceiver ; that he is afler your money, and not your happiness. 0, my friends ! if your slanders were true, think you I should stand pleading with you till my lungs are so sore that when I have spoken one word, I know not 'hat I can speak another, and laboring so constantly that if I get four hours' sleop in the twenty-four I think myself well off?" " Here 's two lies for you to nail, Pegan," said Skampton, in a low voice ; " lungs too sore to speak, yet all the time bawling; four hours' sleep ; mark, Pegan!" "Yes, yes," said Pegan, with a start and a twitch, "I'll nail 'em ! " " And all this," continued Bludgeon, " for what? For my bread, and clothes, and lodging, which, I protest, is all I have had BO far." "Another lie, Pegan," said Skampton; "mark it! mark it!" "It's marked," rejoined Pegan; "I shall get ammuni- tion for my gun tb-night." By this time Bludgeon had conciliated every feeling in the house, except those of the rum convention, so far as such characters were capable of conciliation by such a speaker. The history and fall of Satan were now announced as his theme. Satan, he said, was an impersonation of evil in man, and more especially of alcohol, which Avas the soul of wicked- ness; and if that could once be exorcised, the body and members of the monster would die ; an ultraism natural to one so exclusively occupied with a particular cause of crime and misery. Bludgeon's logic and theology are far from being models. In giving a history of Satan, he touched upon every recollected case and form of the abuse of wine or alco- holic drinks, from Noah's drunkenness to this day ; a theme, any one may imagine, as graphic and powerful as could pos- 224 MAPLBTON; OR, m Bibly fall to the lot of such an orator. It was a night of drunkenness that erased great Babylon's walls from their firm foundation. It was as the consequence of drunkenness that Canaan's posterity were accursed ; and every slave that clanks his chains, from Mason and Dixon's line to Cape Horn, is a mep[iento of this damning sin. These loose positions of Bludgeon, in the manner of his using them, were not without their effect in his discourse as a whole. It was a graphic generalization, under which all the specific evils of alcohol, in the history of nations and races, were made to fay in like the inferior stones of an arch, to gfve strength and stability to the whole. His description of its efiects in individual cases was more reliable, searching, and powerful. He followed the drunkard from his first glass, till found wallowing in the gutter, haunted by devils in a fit of delirium tremens, or dis- solved into the lurid fires of hell by spontaneous combustion. He pointed out its effects upon the nervous system, in creat- ing desire and appetite over which the drunkard has no con- trol, and which is sure to precipitate him upon his ruin, unless a physical impossibility is interposed to intercept the flow of the bane to his lips. Nothing but the Maine Law, executed by vigorous hands, in pouring tii ^ damning bane into the gut- ter, and in remanding tL harpies to prison who prey upon the vices of society, he said, can meet the exigences of a case like this. These and all of his points he illustrated by pertinent anecdotes, which now convulsed his audience with laughter, and now bathed it in tears, thus swelling the tide of excitement, till it rose above all bounds, and defied re- straint. His own feelings, also, waxed more and more intense with his advancing argument, his manner became more and more vehement, and his hearers seemed to have lost ilk *■ IIOBB WORK FOA THE MAINE LAW. 225 Bight of the relations of time and place, in their absorbing interest in the images presented to their view. By this time, to compare great things with small, Bludgeon had a ten thousand horse power all concentrated in himself, and which ho could wield with one of his fingers. What was remarkable in his case, his self-possession increased with the excitement, and he had more shrewdness in wielding his ter- rible machinery than any other man, or even himself, in the calm of his retirement. Now he was ready for his assault. It was nine of the night. The winds still breathed, and wh'stled, and raged without ; and, in the excited, apprehensive state of the audience, the very creaking of the building in which they were assembled seemed the shriek of some falling drunkard, as he made the final plunge of his hopeless vice. The images of agonized fathers, mothers, wives, husbands, children, deploring the doom of rum's victims, and of devils exulting over it, seemed depicted in the air they breathed, and to swarm around them like the flies of summer, to preclude all possible objects besides, and to overwhelm them with a sense of this greatest of national calamities, — drunkards, drunk- enness, and the detestable liquor-traffic. Bludgeon paused. All was still, but it was the stillness that f)ortend3 the hurri- cane. Half-suppressed groans and wailings were heard from those who now felt, as never before, the danger to their drinking friends. The speaker's burning eyes ghmced and flashed from one end of the vast concourse to the other, as if searching for the point where to begin his personal onset. At length, catching the features of Gilfort, who sat trem- bling by the side of Skampton, he called out his name with a voice like the sound of doom, saying, " You hypocrite, you deceiver, you human devil, rioting in the spoils of innocence and the wrecks of character, where are the souls whom you f ■ ^ 'i If rwmmm 226 MAPLETON: OR liavo ruined by rum ? The gutter already swarms with your victims. The prison, where you ought to be yourself, holds those whom you have tempted to crime. Your dark schemes of money-digging, your nocturnal orgies, your extortions of money in the name of the Lord, your religious fraud to cheat men into the purchase of your lands, and all the black arts by which you have hitherto sustained an accursed existence, testify against you. Is it not better for you to come to a sdl&mn pause, aad take the pledge not only not to drink more, but not to cheat, not to lie, not to palm off upon the ignorant your pious tricks, but to become henceforth a man of tem • perance and of virtue 7 But you fall, I see you fall, from pleasure, from infiuence, from hope, from your schemes of self-aggrandizement and all the alluring baits of tLis nether world, into a drunkard's grave and a drunkard's hell ! " Gilfort, pale with excitement, and lost to the consciousness of" himself or his position, muttered, incoherently, "God have mercy on me ! I 'm a devil, sure enough ! Cursed life, this ! Alas, for my miserable training! " — meantime jumping up, to do he knew not what. "Sit down, Gilfort," said Skampton, not comprehending the cause of his* excitement; "don't mind the braying of that ass!" The commotion was new general. Skampton's voice recov- ered Gilfort to a sense of his position, and he started to go out. But Bludgeon, mistaking it for a desire to come forward to take the pledge, — no uncommon thing with an audience under great excitement, — called out, "Make way for himli Open there to the right and left ! Let the stricken wolf relieve his conscience ! He may become a sheep, yet. But no, — he goes! he goes! " added Bludgeon, as he saw him t' 1 / / Rj' MORS WORK FOR THE MAINE LAW. making for the door. "All is over with him. He'll come to a miserable end ! " At this, a cry of "Stop thief! Stop thief!" resounded through the vast area. All eyes looked whence it came.. It was Dobson, who, rapt in the magic of the speaker's influence, believed him supernaturally directed to Gilfort as the swindler of his money. In this he was confirmed by Gilfort escaping ; and, with head bare, locks dishevelled, and eyes flaming with insanity, he started in pursuit, floundering through the throng, and at the same time calling out, at the top of his voice, " Stop thief! Stop thief! Seize him ! He 's taken my money ! Seize him ! " The violence of the outcry excited the rabble round the door to attempt the arrest of Gilfort, thinking him a pickpocket who had just perpetrated some depredation within. But Gilfort, by dint of strength, forced his athletic form through the midst, and thus made his escape by one of the doors. " Where is he ? — where is he ? " cried a hundred tumult- uous voices, as he vanished from view. ^ "He's here," cried one, with an oath. -'i-^' ~ - / -i^ • *• "No, — he's here," said another. "Come on! — come on ! " ■ ■ ''--' '^' ■.!'■'-* "No, by all that's good and gracious!" cried a third; " he went out by this door." /•t ^- ,/^ ^^ ' ;! " He 's a pickpocket ! " said one. ' -^ . ;' i.>^ €, banks of the Hudson, some distance above the city. It was invested with cultivated groves of nearly a century's growth, through which the antique structure looked down with im- posing eflFect on the beautiful river. They found it, on their arrival, in a state of majestic decay, from having been long occupied by aged persons, who felt little interest in the im- provements of present luxury and splendor. The faded glory of a former age was more congenial to its occupants than modern ornament and invention. Harcourt proceeded at once to make such changes as his fancy dictated. The rooms were fitted up in the most costly style ; the walls lined with magnificent mirrors; the floors provided with the richest quality of Turkey carpeting for winter, and with the finest Indian matting for summer ; all after the newest and most approved models. Splendid chandeliers hung,from the ceiling; musical-boxes stood on the brackets and side-tables ; the win- dows were hung with costly drapery ; the gilt balconies were filled with the rarest exotics and flowering plants ; and sing- ing bii-ds were provided", to pour their mellifluous notes through the rooms and halls, to regale and delight the luxurious inmates, -i.,:-}- 4->">i;^ -•'•;:•'- ■ •■;#;;"■",;•-■■•.---■ -'. '■•.:,• 'i v; " Alas ! no letter from Charles. Why does he not write 1 Is he sick? Have my letters failed? Impossible! some must have reached him. 0, my heart of hearts ! where is Charles, that he deigns no token to his doting Sarah? — no word, no, not one — not one!" :,^~. -^ -j-kt <>« ,A:i , -v;^ L v.; Such were the plaints of Miss Harcourt, amid all these splendid preparations. Her father met the case with all his address ; said he would make immediate inquiries ; presumed that Douglass meant soon to surprise her with a visit, or that he was devoting himself to his profession ; or something of the kind prevented his writing. ■■ii;, /■ \ f/' ri 1j • MORE WORK FOR THE MAINE LAW. 285 "You are young, my daughter, and Mr. Douglass has years of preparation yet before him. If you should not hear from him UU he gets through, it cannot prevent your union, if you are destined for each other. Be patient, my child, be patient ; this is just the ordeal you need, and you '11 both see whether the root of the matter is in you, and you really have the foundation for perriianent esteem. This misgiving in you is a doubtful omen; but we shall see." Sarah cherished too fondly the hope of returning to the plantation to admit of her feeling much pleasure in these costly preparations. That was her home. She loved its seclusion. It was associated with her fondest recollections ; and though her father had givep no intimation of a design to remain in New York, yet all these repairs but too clearly revealed what was in his mind, and were consequently less interesting to her. Besides, her tastes did not incline her to such a use of money. Intellectual, moral, and religious pleasures were far more captivating to her feelings. The claims of the poor were also ever pi-esent to her thoughts. A large number of them were now near her home, and could be reached in her daily walks. Some were intemperate, and needed the soft hand of love to conduct them to virtue. Money would be a great solace to their needy families, some of whom were sick, find all in a state of destitution such as had never betbre fallen under Sarah's observation. She set about doing what she could in their behalf, and the event proved how much more effective a personal care of the drunkard's habitL and wants, to convince him you love him and desire to do him good, is, thar sweeping denunciations, as a means of reclaiming him to temperance. Denunciation may plough the ground, but it is the watch-care of love and charity that sows the seed, that waters the plants, that pro- > It III': 286 MArtLBTOW; 6% tects them against incursive enemies, and reestablishes the prostrated mind and character of a drunkard in virtue Mid peace. No vice has hitherto been deemed more hopeless than this, for the good reason that we had failed to estimate the utter inability which it induces to a life of temperance, 30 long as the cup is offered at every turn, and nothing is done to restore its unhappy victims to their lost position in society. As soon as the cup is made more inaccessible by stringent temperance laws, and friendship supplies to the inebriate the requisite stimulants to sobriety, by exercising a care over him and by giving him the place among us which we assign to a loved one who has become feeble in mind or in body, then this vice will no longer be considered hopeless. Miss Harcourt's efforts tended this way, and, so far as they went, — for a lady, of course, could not be expected to do all the case demanded, — they were far more hopeful than the bold and excoriating denunciations of Bludgeon. She soon found herself with so much work of this kind on hand, in the thronged population near her new home, that she felt jealous of the money which her father was so pro- fusely lavishing upon their ancestral mansion. Had her wishes been consulted, it would have been expended in carry- ing out her plans of relief for the suffering, and of reform to the vicious. Her own room, in which she spent most of her time, was a little one-story wing, extending back from the main building in a circular form, with corresponding furni- ture; while eirternally it was enclosed by a conservatory, whose beautiful foliage and flowers diffused an odor around like the breezes of " Araby the blest." It was neatly fur- nished, but not on the costly scale of the other rooms, as she protested to her father that her taste must here be consulted. This -ms her Bethel. Here her books of instruction, entw- 4 {S M MORB WORK FOR THE MAINE LAW. 287 tainment and devotion, were collected. Here she found from prayer her only means of reconciliation to the late shock to her sensibilities. What right have we to yield to moping melancholy "when our wishes are crossed, so long as the Cre- ator, with his infinite resources, is left to us, and is willing to honor our draughts of confiding faith and importunate prayer ? A love-becrazed mind is one in which God is dethroned and an idol substituted in his place. Such was Miss Harcourt's reasoning. Never was devotion more deep and sincere than hers to Douglass, resulting from a mysterious sense of fitness to each other, which began in childhood ; but then, with her it was subordinate to the higher claims of Him whose they both were, and whom they were bound to serve. Many young persons, in entering a great city with every advantage of wealth, personal accomplishments, and distin- guished family connections, would have yielded to the rush of worldly and selfish desires, would have merged themselves in the joys of sense, and, after a round of years, would have come out with a wasted constitution, a corrupted heart, and with every imaginable disqualification for peace or usefulness. The faith of Miss Harcourt was her security, an inheritance of brightest promise from her sainted mother, whose memory was the bow of hope, spanning the clouds of sorrow and dis- appointment. Besides the poor, she had no acquaintances in her own immediate neighborhood, except with the family of a resident from a foreign court, to whom she was introduced rather by accident than denlgn. In this family was a daughter of princely character, wh )se manners had taken their cast from the intercourse of distinguished European society. A young man by the name of De Lisle was a frequent visitor in the same family, and the means of introducing Sarah to it. De Lisk was bom to a titled inheritance and to great wealth, 288 .•%iiSk.: MAPISTON; OS, but was one of those rare cases in which republican principles are made the occasion for abjuring such advantages, in order to return to the level which nature has established between man and man. " A natural aristocracy," he would say, " I do not object to. Those who are really the best ought to be esteemed so. But to flourish through life in the borrowed drapery of the dead, and assume supercilious airs from the mere accident of birth, is too much for my pride." And, finding his native country uncongenial to the growtn of such sentiments, he had abandoned it to try his fortunes in the New World, and to work his way to a distinction which he wcs too proud to borrow from his ancestors. De Lisle assumed, therefore, an untitled name, and cautiously concealed the accident of his birth. He was a young man of truly noble principles, who had drunk deep into ancient and modem learning, and whose republicanism, like Milton's, was derived from the communion of mind in all ages. This young, man had frequently met with Mr. Harcourt aind his daughter in their morning walks. Sarah still retained her love of out-door life — often taking long walks with her father, sometimes going along the margin of the river, and sometimes among the contiguous farms and groves. On these occasions De Lisle would often fall in with them, attracted at first by the engaging person of Miss Harcourt, but afterwards by the extraordinary turn of her conversation. It was a page he had never read, and. he wished to study it. As Sarah's heart always overflowed with a piety and benevo- lence which seemed to ha>'e become her very life, so her conversation spontaneously partook of the same, and even her countenance and whole being were continually throwing out, without effort or design on het part, the corusqfitions of € -MORE WORK FOR TUB MAINE LAW. 280 heavenly light. No one who has seen the utmost that Chris- tianity has done and is doing for personal elevatioO} will deem this an overwrought picture. De Lisle had seen the pomp and ceremony of religion. He had felt the inspiration of massy pillars, time-hallowed cathe- drals, the deep gloom of their shaded windows, the thunder- ing hass of their organs, the chime of pealing bells, deluging the landscape with sound, and all these magical contrivances for overawing the sense and imagination. He had been familiar with the cant of dissent, and the various forms in which sect and schism offer to Heaven their conflicting devotions. But the purity of the evangelical spirit, apart from cant and sectarian contrivance, he had never seen, till he witnessed it in the person of Sarah Harcourt. The contemplation of it charmed, astonished, and confounded him. It had depths which he felt himself unable to fathom, heights he could not surmount, and a w .dth and length which he could not com- prehend. How a young person, with every endowment of wealth, and every accomplishment of person, unscathed by disease and unblighted by sorrow, should withdraw from all those circles in which she was so eminently fitted to shine, not from the morbid promptings of a perverted conscience, not from the dread of divine vengeance, not from the ascetic ambition of a saint's renown, but because she professed herself too happy to need them, he could not understand. "What is the nature of this happiness, which is so independent of the ordinary sources of enjoyment? and whence comes it7 " were questions which he often revolved in his mind. " If there is anything of the kind which is real, and not fictitious, then we have something to put in the place of those pleasures which are the great lure to vice. We have a counter excitement of felicitous feelingj to meet those mental crayings which seek tQ \ ■ m \ n ii\ 240 ma^leton; or, slake themselves in wine, m scenic representations, and in a thousand ways, which to untold multitudes end only in crime and misery." So reasoned Be Lisle. ' He hoped to unravel the matter by means of Miss Julia, the young lady to whom we have alluded, and hence said to her : " I am surprised you do not make the acquaintance of Miss Harcourt." ^'^ ^^ "Wat! in love 'J'' said Julia, laughing. V- \K^^*' " No; not till I know what I am loving.'^' ^^- ^^^ .if;*?^«fK' ;?»*^' " Seal the document ! Mr. De Lisle? No. I see you do not understand M'^^s Harcourt. She is all openness, all frank- ness. Her lips are never sealed to any one, much less against you, of whom she entertains so high an opinion." -^ " A high opinion of me ! What do you mean? We never met except in our rural rambles, when we were under the restraint of her father's' presence, who, I see, has no sym- M. mm 24^:'- ■ MAPLKTON: ORj f'#i#' \^ »■_■*;■■■.■:'■■- ., ,■ ''■'"■■ ■, ''■-; ■- . " :, ■'•■■ .," v;, , ,; :'' '■ ■ •/ pathj with her peculiar views. He is a mere man of the world, like the rest of us." ■ utif^-^iW'^H. ?^^f^^^^^^W^- " Well, Miss Harcourt speaks of the respect and confidence with which you have inspired her." ^^^'^^^'^^^I'l-.o-v^i?;;^^^ ** How came she to say that 7 " :5s -«^~^vi^: r^^ % -tk^ ;*^ v " Why, I told her we should have only a family party at tea, except yourself, a particular friend. And she expressed herself pleased with the prospect of meeting one in whose conversation she had been so much interested." n.f - f.v^ v." " Thanks to my stars ! then I am to be my own inter- .'^■hM^$&:<^^y!i'^t.i^fi¥-\\'PiV'i'''i'*i:'l' ■'■!■■'■ .,.'■'.,. ■'•■'; .■.'■••■':> ■.^ /■■ -nam- i?l i-^-.if,-j- '^-' CHAPTER XVII. woman's mission. V- vSf., ** And to the Presence in the room he said, * What writest thou ? ' The vision raised its head. And, with a look made all of sweet accord, Answered, ' The names of those that love the Lord.' ' And is mine one ? * said Abou. * Nay, not so,' ReplJed the angel. Abou spoke more low. But cheerly still, and said, • I pray thee, then, Write me as one that lovos his fellow-men.' " — Leigh Hunt. It was the union of qualities which De Lisle had deemed subversive of each other that excited his interest in Miss Harcourt, — zeal and gentleness, austerity and sweetness, a repulsive severity to sin, with tenderness to the sinner; a saintly and severe hold upon the realities of eternity, with. a buoyancy of spirits bordering on gayety and inirthfulness. 'K»r. ¥Vi. MORE WOBK FOB XH£ MAINE LAW. im Hers was not a piety to make people miserable, but a stock in bank, upon which any might draw at will. 'Her peace with Heaven was not purchased at the e^>ense of peace on earth and good-will towards men. Her attractions of person were set off with a conversation that adroinimers grace to them that hear. She was not faultless, though she seemed so, above most others, because her religion we^ associated with humanity, and her piety with benevolence. It vms this aspect of her character that excited De I^sle's curiosity, aid it was probably the same that provoked the inquiry of old as to the reason of the Christian's hope. When religion repu- diates humanity, disfigures itself by cant, makes a merit of gloomy interjections and indelicate attacks upon the prejudices of a man of the wo. Id, as if to be very pious is to be very disagreeable, how can it win for itself the respect of man- kind? "Glad to see you at last, Mr. De Lisle," said Julia, as that gentleman joined the proposed party. "What are we ladies without you lords of creation?" "Much, every way," said De Lisle, laughing. " I hope you mean it in a good sense," said Julia. " I mean that you and Miss Harcourt are too fertik* in conversation to need my contributions." " Conversation has certainly prospered without you," said Sarah, " but how much more with you ! " ,.. " It can never flag where you are. Miss Harcourt," said Julia. ■'■ ■'<>;•» ■ -'.f' ' ■': v.--;.>- !■? if .;■■.(, ' ) , ,•'. rv ■'"'-/'..''?'«.:■'.. " Not 'When you are present to call it out," said Sarah. ,; - "I see you mean to be pleased with each other, and am only surprised that your acquaintance did not begin sooner." " Custom would impute the fault to the older resident, I suppose," said Julia. . . » , .' > m MAPLBION; OB, «;«^>M^< It 18 not your &iilt, Miss Julia. Our social relations have taken us in opposite directions," ■;:i^m^m^':^>m^'^'^^ski'i4^' " True, contiguity of location seldom unites those of oppo^ site tastes," said De Lisle; "but you have tastes alike, I think, and will easily coalesce." '^^«*^^ -'^•^■■^rr:'*-'r^'^-jimr!,.-S:,r^ ■, < "0, I *m afraid that would be too late ! " said the girl. " Very well ; I will be there in an hour." - " Not so soon ; we shall not be through tea," said Julia. " Well, it will not be much over an hour, I think," added Sarah, as the child left. » . . ^ ^^.s^,- " How dare you go to a strange place in the night?" said Julia. " Perhaps some mischief is intended you, or there is pestilence in the house." "I shall take measures to assure myself on these points," said Sarah. " I am not without experience in these matters." "You speak of the certainty of entering into better society at death, Miss Harcourt," said De Lisk, anxious to MORE WORK FOR THE MAINE LAW. 247 resume the conversation. " I cannot see any such hasis of certainty as we feel on visiting friends. It is true I believe in the Christian religion, and in the soul's immortality. But • it a£fords me no such grounds of realization as that of meeting absent friends. We have seen those friends, have enjoyed the fruition of their society, and thus have in our minds a basis for realization. Those ifvlio have tasted a delicious fruit once can- anticipate what it will be again. But we have no such experience of heavenly society. Dying is necessarily a plunge in the dark." " Mr. De Lisle, one fact has escaped you," said Sarah. . ' ' What is that, Miss Harcourt 7 ' ' " Heaven, to the believer, is a present inward experience. It is the love of God ' shed abroad in his heart ;' it is ' Christ in him the hope of glory ;' it is being * filled with all the ful- ness of God.' What these passages of the Bible involve is heaven, whether enjoyed here or in another life. It is a mind in harmony with itself and all its relations. And what can heaven be but that?" . ^. , ., : ^ ,v ;^^i^ «; «i^*; " But how is it possible to derive so much enjoyment from a purely ideal good? " inquired De Lisle. ^n "It is not ideal, sir; it is positive; it is substantial. Is the happiness of a mind in health any more ideal than that of a healthy body? That is a morbid state of mind which is never satisfied in itself, but is always craving outward sources of excitement. Happiness and hope are the development of life from within, like the enlargement of a growing tree; but pleasures, in the usual sense of that term, are but the leaves appended to a tree of wax. You grasp them, and they crum- ble in your hands." -V , ^i ,i,^^>--Uk<: " Then the state of your afiections in reference to God and heaven givos you a distaste for the gayeties of the town." . 248 ..., .,-p?P|C«|| • ''Yes; I am kept from them by the force of superior attractions. I might think many of these amusements per- fectly innocent. It is so with dancing. I would dance if I needed such an auxiliary of my happiness ; but I do not. Besides, I observe that those who have a craving for such modes of enjoyment are betrayed into what is acknowledged on all hands to be criminal. Extreme devotion to cards ends in gambling. The excitements of the theatre lead- to drink- ing and drunkenness. These pleasures are all seeds, which grow up vices ; and I do not feel myself at liberty to sow such a harvest. If you could see what I have, during my short stay in your city, I am certain that you woi^ld think as I do on these subjects." As soon as they had taken tea, Sarah excused herself, to fulfil her en^gement, and De Lisle insisted upon accom- panying her. Julia, too, was so much interested in the case, that she proposed to go with them. A carriage was ordered, and they all went together. When they arrived at 65 Blank- street, they found it a large, old-fashioned house, once the home of opulence, but now converted into dens for the poor and degraded. The doors were battered and broken, with locks and latches gone, and no protection against rain or robbers. The party entered the hall, but not a light was to be seen within. De Lisle felt bis way in the darkness, till r he reached the £x)t of the stairs, and began to ascend, the ladies following. Julia's heart sunk within her. On the first landing they were met by the poor girl who had come I for them, having in her hand a piece of broken earthenware, ' with a small amount of oil in it, and a wick, emitting a feeble light. This served rather to render the darkness and desola- i tion more visible. At length they entered the left-hadd door i of the Vi^ppet landing, when they wste met wit^ a gust of /' f MORS WORK FOR THE MAINE LAW. 249 March wind, blo?nng through the broken panes, which extin- guished their light, and enveloped them in total darkness. Sarah, used to such scenes, begged her companions not to be alarmed. " Ma ! ma ! " said the girl ; " do you hear ? " ^ " Lizzy, love, is that you? " said one, with labored breathi' ing, who seemed scarcely conscious ; "is that you, 'Lizzy 7" ^ "Yes, ma; the lady is come ; she is here." • *" f " Are you sick, my good woman 1" said Sarah. ^^'^ *I " 0, yes ; very sick. Who 's speaking to me? " "Miss Harcourt, that you sent me for," said the child • " she is come to see you, ma." " 0, Miss Harcourt, I 'm so glad you are here ! This is a house of suffering and death. And you have beer so kind to Mrs. Darby, and she has said m much to me about you, that I hoped you 'd be an angel of mercy to me, also. 0, I 'm so suffering ! my heart 's bursting, aad I have no one on earth to look to!" '■""' ■•.-.;>/ ':-;<, -.,; - -vv-', ^-^/v-a*^^ ■-^-•^.{^«fe.-^, -v^^--: "My dear woman, you must look to your Father in heaven," said Sarah, with tones of tenderness that went to the heart/:' •"■""■■^■"^ ./,r '-;..■:«> .v., ,,,.;.,;,,. ^..,. ,:..,,,, -.,,.,, " 0, I have ' I have ! " said the woman ; " and I seemed to feel that he had referred me to you, as the messenger of his mercy to me." -u^-^-^w-^f; f**^ .:;i.,>si.._ss-*.;;. r^-^s..^^,v1^-t5.^*^-Y>.^ - ■-" "Miss Harcourt, you must have a light," said De Lisle; " I will go and order one." ■'^■- *^ ^-^-■mv^wf'^ wf^'-^mvkr^s>^t'^ " I will go with you," said Julia, trembling in every limb; adding, in a whisper, " Miss Harcourt, you must go, too. It is dangerous for you to remain here alone." . ^^'^mmiW^'^^' ^•" Not in the least," said Sarah; "God's poor are here, and he will watch over us in taking care of them. Tou had better order a light, Mr. De Lisle. But wait a moment. MAPLETON ; OB, -.•t. iWhat hare you here, my good woman? — any food? olothiog to keep you warm ? What do you need most ? " ^ *54« " We have nothing here, you angel ; ndf food, no fuel, no lights, and not clothing to keep us warm," said the woman. "The shops are open yet, Mr. De Lisle. Please order lights, ready-cooked food, fuel, and warm blankets. Here 's my purse," added Sarah, feeling her way, to put it in his hand. '^-*^^^ "No, no; I have enough," replied De Lisle, in tones which indicated emotion. " Ma, your poor Mary 's cold, cold, — 0, how cold ! Lie close to me, ma ! I 'm so cold ! " said a child, feebly, from the opposite side of the room, with a rattling in breathing, as if its throat was full of phlegm. ^^ "I have you in my bosom, my tender love ! there ; don't rily Mary feel a little warmer? " replied the mother, with a motion of pressing her little one to her bosom. Meantime, the sound of heavy breathing was heard in other parts of the room, and the atmosphere would have been intolerable, but for the con- stant currents of night air flowing through it. De Lisle and Julia hastened after supplies for this house of want, while Sarah occupied her time in repeating passages of scripture most appropriate to the case of the poor woman, and in ofler- ing prayer for those higher supplies lor the soul whieh God alone call impart. The absent ones soon returned with a cheerful light, followed by a porter with fuel, food, blankets, and everything to meet the present nece^isity. The fire was soon lighted, the broken panes stopped with a blanket, and so much comfort as warmth could bestow was afforded to the unhappy inmates. But such a scene as ':he light revealed beggars description. Mrs. Andrews, the sick woman, was lying on a pallet of straw in one part of th? room, without a MORE WORK FOR THE MAINE LAW. 251 covering to keep her warm, while her breathing was like the whistling tubes of an organ. On the opposite side of the room lay Mrs. ]^indle, in much the same condition, with four children by her, one of whom was now found to be gasp- ing its last. Poor Mrs. Prindle, seeing the state of her child, sprang to her feet, the other three children following, olj in rags and wretchedness ; and the scene which ensue^ may be better imagined than described. i ' .' . "0, Mary ! Mary ! do speak to your mother once more ! Bear little murdered one, will you not look up 7 will you not kiss your ma 7 "; ' wJ ,-^,..«-._;,^<,^:' ...:.■ ,;i ■,'k..rH.'> .. 1-.:^;.., :!.:■:. '\ Then, seizing the dead child, she pressed it to her bosom, as if the warmth of her person would infuse life into the cold clay. The children, meantime, uttered the most doleful plaints, and it was some time before quiet could be restored. Food was oflFered the suffering family, which, in spite of their grief, they laid hold of with hungry voracity, their haggard features telling too plainly how long such a solace had been denied them. The heavy breathing was found to come from Andrews and his two sons, the husband and children of the sick lady, and also from Prindle, the father of the dead child. All these remained still in the sleep of drunkenness. Sarah now inquired of Mrs. Andrews what had brought them to such a pitch of wretchedness. " An insatiable love of amusement, ending in drunkenness," she said. " My husband is a carpenter, and had a prosper- ous business in Connecticut, our native state. His leisure he then spent in public houses, drinking temperately, and finding pleasure in every way he could. Our sons would accompany him^ and they gradually feU into the same habits. I did wlmt I could to induce them to read, to find pleeieure at i n:^ 252 MAPLBTON; OR; ./r- home; but all to no purpose. At length, Mr. Andrews thought this oitj would be a better place for his business, and we removed here. This was our ruin^ The temptations to pleasure were too much for my husband and sons^ and they plunged still deeper and deeper in dissipation, and did less an4 less for bur support. Dear Lizzy and I supported the family by binding shoes, till I took cold and could work no longer ; since which she has been our only support. Driven out of house and home, we were taken in by Prindle, an associate of my husband. He could not pay the rent of his room, and resorted to this expedient for relieving himself The discomfort of this place has aggravated my disease, and God only knows what the end will be ! " < . - ^ ,.^,i. Jl , "You see, Mr. De Lisle," said Sarah, on their return home, "how unsafe it is for a man to feel that he cannot content himself without artificial excitements." • " But why should they go to such extremes 1 why not stop at a reasonable point?" sfiid De Lisle. "That is the question, — why not 7" replied Sarah. "It is because the appetite that craves indulgences of this kind is an unhealthy one, and must end in evil. It may not bring all to such a garret, but it will inevitably be followed with damage in some way. Theatre-going leads to drinking, and drinking to theatre-going; card-playing to gambling; noc- turnal assemblies to nocturnal dissipation and premature death ; and thus the wrecks of family, and ruined characters and fortunes, are strewed around us without stint or measure." ^ .^„,"Can nothing be done to induce Prindle and the Andrewses to change their habits?" inquired Julia, with genuine con- cern. IS^y _,',.v,^,J. jilt; ■ i.S- j.Jili. ^C'^':J;Sis/fA^-f^ii!'^_^- -(i^C; ; i^t:^^'-'- '■^Sisi " A very hard case,'* said De Lisle, shaking his head.^; <^ Ye6 ; much may be done, and much more still might be, MORS WORK FOB THB MAINB LAW. 258 if the state had not plaoed its licensed temptations at everj corner." , fi " How will y«tt go to work 1 " inquired De Lisle. " You may rely upon my support, Miss Harcourt, in anything you think proper to attempt." '< And mine, too," added Julia. '' I had no idea of what is done and suffered around us." '^* VfiV " Well, since you are so good as to refer the plan to me, I tell you at once, we must be on hand to-morrow morning by seven o'clock. We must steal the march of the first dram. Prindle and the Andrewses will awake with the horrors. The death within their doors will concur with the reaction of drunkenness to bring on such a morning as they have never seen. Their only means of relief will be to drown them- selves in the bottle. Our business is to step in at that pre- cise moment, and do all we can to impart other comforts, and inspire tlem with other sources of hope." ^ ■ Accordingly it was arranged to meet at 6 ' Blank-street, so early as seven of the next morning. Sarah was there some- what in advance of her friends. She met Andrews, senior, in the hall, with bottle in hand, and inquired of him how his wife did. "A little better, I hope." " Be so good as to show me the way to your room. I fear I cannot find it again." " And have you been there before? " said Andrews. "Yes,— last night." " 0, you are the young lady who has relieved our suffer- ings," said Andrews ; " I '11 go back with you." " Yes, Mr. Andrews, my &ther is repairing our home- stead, and I have come to engage you to work for us." When Sarah entered the room, the first object that met H 22 4 mam 264 MAPLIROK; OR, her view was tlie* pale &oe of the dead child. Its fiither stood over it, apparently with the premonitory symptoms of delirium tremens. The two young Andrewses looked stupid and besotted. Mrs. Andrews was evidently better, relieved by food and a warmer room. Little Lizzy had "already begun her day's work, now the only source of the family's support. Mrs. Prindle and her children were alleviated in body by food, but sorely afflicted in mind at the death of poor dear Mary. Mr. De Lisle and Julia soon arrived, "^mpanied by a physician. Prindle had by this time beer lu more raving • and the physician, after prescribing to Mrs. Andrews, took him into his own carriage, with much persuasion and some force, and conveyed him to the hospital. Here he was con- fined several weeks ; and measures were taken, when ;he oame out, to induce him to Jgn the temperance pledge. This he did ; and, by the elR>rts of Miss Harcourt, who never lost sight of him, he was furnished with a regular business, by which he supported his own family in comfort. De Lisle took it upon himself to provide places for the young Andrewses, while Sarah kept their fether in her employ until he had be- come somewhat weaned from the cup, when he also took the pledge. The two families were soon in comfortable circum- stances, and the only difficulty was in keeping them so, by removing the temptations to strong drink. But how can this be done, with our present drinking habits and liquor laws '^ ••'.-■.-"': >.'.- ■■ 'ff-emw!^, '■ '"^ fSH*^*^ • ; -flp-r'-.' r-i -««w(/,,rJ^!^'i(?.s*..fl|T-ij»' "» i'i MORB WOBK FOa THB MAINE LAW. wi^' CHA.PTEE XVIII.^.|^.^ ** Her sons all drank a little ; and one of them — the first boy she had ', — frequently came home lively, as she called it. " — The Advocate. " A pestilent tongae she had, that the poor husband dreaded above all things under the sun.'* — Sib Roqee L'EsiiEUNa& ;-" .' ; ■ f'- These incidents and conversations opened upon De Lisle hefw ideas of life. It had & purpose of humanity, a work of &ith and labor of love, and a patience of hope, and not ttierely the gratification of present desires. He did, indeed, fulfil an engagement to attend the theatre with Harry How- ard, the succeeding eyening. That young gentleman had been graduated to a oareer of high living, and was fulfilling his destiny on a scale that promised a speedy &11. Be Lisle had no real congeniality with him ; but still, they often met in their rounds of pleasure, and often enjoyed together a social glass. Howard saw in him this evening something unusual. He was abstracted, and seemed little interested in the brilliant scene enacting before them. "^mrf^^^fSf^-Jmrn-x^W" ''De Lisle," said Howard, ''what the deuce ails you? Are you in love 7 " " */?i4y^^^^^*iMi-*##^f }■%;*>■■■ " Does love make one insensible to what is passing around a** Certainly. That is its first symptom. It wraps the ri^mind in its own delicious ideas, to the eAulusion of all others." " Then, Howard, you must set me down in love." " But who is the happy object of your passion ? m- ii " It is lake no other with which I ever met on earth. M «'l ^1. 'fTTT- esws^sssxsmsmm •f''. 256 itm MAPLBTON; OR, m^m iiir ill! " That is the universal story, asid amounts to just nothing at all." •i^v,.:i%4; .i, : ' ^ ^m " You know, Howard, we lately discussed Gibbon's account of the spread of Christianity, when I expressed the convic- tion that it might be accounted for on the ordinary principles of cause and effoct ; but I now see reasons for revoking that decision." "^;;.-r'^^~;' .:■•■-•.;->■ _ ^ .,^. .-^^^^r^.-v *' Pray, wliat has that to do with love? " " Much, very much, with the kind which has affected me." '^ Then it is the lo^ of the brethren, I supj^ose," said Howard, with A sn*>':ri- '" ■-■"'--■ -^-^-'j^, i.,, :„it.. ■..-■. ^-^w*?!'': . '' I wish it might be that, if it is all like t^e ^jp^cijoien I have seen." '■■'^'" ■ •''■■■- ' -■^'- .--.vv.-^-. " What specimen have you seen? Is it a male or » feuude specimen, — a real or an ideal one'? " "0, you joke in a case wherein I Seel it to be profene." "You are really pious, then?" mid Howard, shrinking from him, with instinctive dread. " If I were pious, I suppose I should not be here." " Not here ! • Can anything, deserving the name of piety, keep one from such a glorious play as this4 " " If you knew you could be happier somewhere else, could do much more good, and {Mrevent much niorf^ e^l, do you think you would be here?" ^ "That's impossible.' vij tq ; n; ; " I thought so once myself," Mid Be L*€ile, seriously; "but I now have reason to think otherwise." > v. < "And the reason that makes you tbi^ flttioi ' wl se has con- vinced you also that mirao^lous afMi^ WM ntcessary in the establishment and propagatiocs o<^ C tstianity." *i^**.f ^^jp^^ " Precisely so. I have seen Imstianity on such wise aa fidls not within the ordinary scope •' human nature. Nothing / f MOBB WO&K FOB IHB MAINE LAW. 267 ao pure, s& blandt, so blissful, so free from cant and seetatian- ism, so fun of good-will to all, so self-sacrificing to reclaim the vicious and make the miserable happy, could arise from that grovelling, selfish thing, whlih I have found human nature to be." '>:mm''^iM^mb^^:i/imf,^rj^rmiJ^ i " Is it a lady, or a gentleman 1 " |i>^?^ ^fvj^f^; 4^^^^**^ "A lady." -^V-w:/-, /.vii^^ '^:'' 't.'>iy-^im'-yy'4^'.-'^'t/i, -' "Is she beautiful?" ;\\'^-,*?j«4'-*it/:'^iAs^i»#-t**^ . " Yes, as the morning star, and lovely aatepring.'' ^jMm^ : "Rich?" '«^-*^^^^"-^5#5i^'^Kf'WAr^^ " An heiress, I believe." ?■ ^;^.'^ ■ '>'m^v^isi>'^ii>^m.:^fm^- "Respectably connected?" -*.^>f^-«*Wv^.-'«k>v*^«'^- *^^v*iE^^ " Ot one of the best families in this republican land."'^'^-?'' " Then I '11 be bound, De Lisle, something besides broth- erly love has to do with your feelings in the case." r - 7'"'^'5; " But, Howard, what if you were to add to the most beautiful, rich, accomplished, res'pectable and every way desirable, young lady you ever saw^ *he embellishments of a character so superior to these advantages as to cast them all into the shade; with what feelings would you regard her? " " What are these embellishments which thus render all the ordinary food of love insipid? " " Labors in behalf of such objects of wretchedness as you have never conceived, and faith that makes death a triumph." " if'aitb ! faith of any kind, except conjugal faith, kills love. I would shun it as I would a pestilence. It has nothing to recommend it but cant, hypocrisy and prudery." " But, suppose you were to see a piety cheerful, bland, ten- der, confiding, attentive 'o the happiness of all, even in things with which it could not agree, and so happy in the communion of the pure and the heavenly, and in exercising all the vir- tues which adorn and eimobk human nature, as to lose the 22* I m 258 maplston; OB, tS^M relish of those pleasures on which you and I are wasting our fortune and our lives ; what would you say of it 1 " ->^<^M^fm " I should say the picture is tuj perfect to he real.%4^m^ |p# Well, if you had an idea that it was real, in a lady of our acquaintance, could she have so many of those qualities which usually elicit love as to lead you to merge your feelings towards her in that passion ? " ^^i^mM^ I " The plague on such a lady ! Let her seek her lovers among the angels, where the ancient beauties found theirs." - " 0, you are not serious, Howard. It is my opinion that no young man could be happy in such a love, who did not possess, in some good degree, the same characteristics." ^^ * ' This sentiment of De Lisle is no doubt true. between persons whose views and feelings on the subject of religion are radically different does not promise happiness. Though these sketches of Miss Harcourt's life in New York extend over a period of a few years, yet it was a much less time than this that Douglass remained ignorant of her fate. The pain of suspense which she felt till sbe heard from him was increased by the fear of having done him a wrong, by allowing herself, for any cause, to be separated from him, at a crisis of their intercourse so delicate and peculiar. As to the effect upon him, she was long left to conjecture. Still, her plans of doing good and her confidence in God preserved her from unavailing regrets. She made few acquaintances beyond the immediate calls of duty. Her introduction to De Lisle and Julia, uncongenial as they were in some respects, proved a real comfort to her. The nature of some does more than the grace of others to make them agreeable companions. Mrs. Dunstable, a woman of vulgar ideas and a low origin, but of sufficient wealth, inherited and accumulated, to support her insufferable pretensions to high life, illustrated the truth of *i MOBB WOBE TOB THE MAINS LAW. fiP % ' ■-■V; & this remark, if her connection with the church could he re- ceived aa a sign of grace. She was volatile and pretending ; a saint in the winter and a sinner in the summer; a wine- drinker, bat a temperance talker ; a pretended refrainer from worldly amusements in her own city, but mad after them in Paris, or when abroad ; a professed martyr to her husband's impiety, while he was re«illy so to her tongue. She monopo- lized to herself the good of her family, and charged the bad upon her ungodly husband. This woman attended the minis- try of Mr. Topliff, who was also Miss Harcourt's pastor, and it was thus their acquaintance began. Mrs. Dunstable's ambition to be found in distinguished families, like that to which Sarah belonged, was inflamed by the consciousness of her own vulgar pedigree. ■ •-» :'>.:,'i.:;..^^r^^: ^,:ii-^^^,ii.^r^:st^^)si:sic^ " I fear. Miss Harcourt, you keep yourself too much ex- cluded," said Mrs. Dunstable, at her first call, t^ ^ii^^sM^,-:; " I am happy in seclusion," replied Sarah. '^^^^ i^ "^ '' 0, dear ! " said Mrs. Dunstable, with a peculiar wriggle of her commanding person. " I s'pose I should be, if I had n't a husband who is always dragging me out." '' It is right that you should do all you can, conscientiously, to please your husband." "It's a bore, after all, to have an ungodly husband, who is always interfering with one's religion. One finds it hard to be good under such circumstances ; at least /do," said Mrs. Dunstable, with a smirk of her large face. ,^, " Is he unwilling you should attend your church? " v ' "Yes, my church, for he has taken me to that detestable place where this fool of a Topliff preaches, merely because he knows it plagues me. My minister is tl: ' dear, good man, Dr. Tumsol. Have you never heard him. Miss Harcourt? " \ I i i A I |) '.i li 260 .fm& mS^- M APLBTOF ; OR, ^^^^^^^ ^ " I hare not Bad that pleasure. I am quite satisfied with our own minister." '*^*^^''^*^''^'»*"'^''-''^''*^ .-if^^'^^pt , ^'- ** You surprise me, Miss Harcourt. How can you endure his dinging against wine ? Not that I drink ; but, when I hear temperance touched upon, I like to have it kindy softly, as my dear Dr. Turnsol does. He now and then takes a glass for his stomach's sake, and his often infirmities. But this buckram TopliiBF ! you might as well turn melted brimstone down his throat. I can't bear him. My husband don't like him any better than I ; but he will go there, just to be ugly. 0, dear ! what a sad thing it is for a pious woman to have an ungodly husband ! " * A«.vi^^ v " A trial, no doubt; but a consistent life may win him." " La me ! how can one lead a consistent life, when one has no help at home ? I feel the need of being comforted by preaching the more from my unhappy condition at home. But, then, to go and be knocked over the head about wine by Topliff is too bad. I do run away, to get a little comfort from dear Dr. Turnsol, and I will; it's of no use; I can't live without it." . . ' > "I observe your attendance is ndt regular, but ffid not know before the cause." - . v.- -,.:. " Wal; if I hadn't run away, to get some comfort from Dr. Turnsol, X believe Mr. Topliff and my ungodly husband together would have driv all the religion out of me." '"^ "''*^ - " It is well to have some relief," said Sarah, thoughtfully, wondering what sort of a woman this Mrs. Dunstable could ' " You must come and pass an evening with me. Miss Har- court ; and you may do me some good, in all my trouble.'* '^^ Sarah was in doubt about returning the call of a woman whose conversation seemed so very objectionable ; but, hoping MORE WORE FOB THB MAINS LAW. 261 '•>> better than appeared, she did at length go to pass an evening at her house. When she arrived, she was, by a mistake of the servant, ushered into the same room with Mr. Dunstable, whom, to her surprise, she found with Bible in hand, and reading with much interest. He received her with great cordiality, when Sarah apologized for the interruption. ^^fivte#3£iil " Not at all ; not at all, Miss Harcourt ; happy to see 700, — I have often seen you at church.*^^ «» " Your countenance, sir, is fitmiliar to me," said Sarah, " though I have not had the pleasure of speaking to you " I was delighted with our minister's allusion, last Sabbath, to St. Paul's advice to Timothy to drink wine. You know that is used by wine-drinkers in justification of their practice ,* and Mr. Topli£f, you remember, used it to prove that wine ought not to be used, except as a medicine. He said that Timothy could not have used it as a beverage, or Paul would not have reconmiended it for his infirmities. In that case it would have been unnecessary ; and that it was a remarkable evidence of abstinence &om wine among the early Christian pastors, that the authority of an apostle was necessary to induce one of them to use it as a medicine." " I remember well that passage in his sermon, and I thought it conclusive, too," replied Sarah. " Timothy's religion obvi- ously deterred him from the use of wine as a beverage. Nor does the apostle correct him in this, but only advises it as a medicine." f- ^u» ' *<■.;*«<«. -^ris' ■'-t'.fj.j.;*^**?!'' " You are right, Miss Harcourt. I have been examining into the subject, and fully believe that the apostles foi(nded their churches on the principle of abstinence from wine as a beverage: Timothy's abstinence must have resulted from the instruction he had received, as is evinced by the fact that ■ASLnoir; o% .'■t:^ ill liw apoBti* ftliit' to be neoessaary so fiir to modify that initruc- tion 88 to allow wine for medieinal! purposes." MHM-^^^^^Aa. By this time a colored servant came into the room and said, *' Missus will please walk into de libraire;" « 'mi^'itiK Aocordingly, Sarah, taking leave of Mr. Dunstable, fol- lowed the servant into the library. This was a small room adjoining a larger one, from which she heard many voices, as of persons over their car^ uid their wine. She waited some thne, bat no Mrs. Dunstable appeared. Soon, Dr. and Mrs. Tumsol were ushered in, and, by mistake, opened the larger room door, when Mrs. Dunstable fairly screamed out, and, kaving her place at one of the card-tables, rushed to the door, saying, " La me. Dr. Tumsol I is it you 7 Just step into the library, please. Dear Miss Harcourt, how are you;? Happy to see you. 0, dear ! what a dreadfiil thing it is to tpeadi one's life so ! all hurly-burly, — worldly people amus- ing themselves at whist, which my conscience cannot approve. How can a pious woman help herself, when her husband is nngodly, and teaches her children so, and makes his house a hell upon earth ? My sons will have cards, and there is no me of my saying a word. 0, dear ! O, dear ! I 'm in the fur- nace ! in the fumacCj Dr. Tumsol ! " Thus ran the voluble tongoe of the ercited Mrs^ Dunstable, her large cheeks flushed with wine. X^v^r^ K.j^C*. '■»•»."- ' -'^i'PI'S.'''-''-^-:/' ^^«-^(^T--'?.^K;'i: T-';-.\'^'^T " Yes, I know," said Dr. Tumsol, pressing Mrs. Dunstable with one hand, and laying the other on his heart with a deep sigh and a most affectionate wink of the eye. " I feel for you, my dear friend. Your situation is very, very trying." Pop went a champagne bottle in another room, which made Mrs. Dunstable dodge as if she had been shot at, exclaiming, " QooA heavens ! what 's that ? 0, dear ! Miss Harcourt, iisw^. i< i: ■y£-^:\ ;&*<; /' i-' .' MORB WORK FOB THB MAINE LAW. 168 wlut a dreadful thing it is to have a worldly hoaband, to fin one's house with saoh gay company ! " ^ «%;'' Indeed," said Sarah, hardly knowing what to reply, " yoar husband does not seem to join his company. I found him reading his Bible." irs;4f» ?. ;%'« Did you see Dunstable 1 " said she, with another start '' Reading his Bible ? la me ! an't that a joke 1 Dunstable reading his Bible ! ha ! ha ! ha ! 0, fie ! Miss Harcourt ; it 's all a sham ; it 's to get clubs to throw at me, the most per- secuted wife in town. The more he reads, the deeper be sinks in the mire." ki-rwJ^A :Tii.i\ii':u.*iii\,i,,'-K\iis^L\ykv:Aim-<-/^4iM^^^^ *" Yes," said Mrs. Tumsol, with a sigh; "the deeper he sinks in the mire. How wicked it is of him to keep you from hearing my husband ! " *^'* .ib'<*-.'vjts*j. ;*--w.^— Jp>6, /-"*/^.i^. >.^*.^'. '.'i'tii J -^ 't " It 's a burning shame of him, when he knows that with- out your husband's sermons my religion goes out like fire without fuel. Dr. Ti«r»sol, don't you feel .that gonesispft in your stomach V'.. ' . ;: ■-,: :.^:,, ■; .,: ^,. . ,:. " But a trifle, dear Mrs. Dunstable," aaid the dpotoc, with a sorrowful expression of the face. ' ' ■ ' ' "I see, I see, doctor ;^Cuff, there!" added Mrs. Dun- stable, calling to a servant just then passing the open door ; " bring a glass of Madeira. Dr. Tumsol, it '11 do you good : I know it will." "Thank you, Mrs. Dunstable; it does sometimes relieve my goneness," said the doctor, quafSng a glass of old Madeira with a gusto. By this time the black servant announced that the children were ready for the dancing-school exhibition. ^ " Hush, you fool ! " said Mrs. Dunstable ; " what do you come to tell me that for 1 0, dear ! my fiiends, what a dread* :^*.i^-ij.^ ^■'■■:i^''-^z-s^. r-w-"' -'^''i,: v-}^^^^;9^Mff^i^^F*^'$- \ \ 904 mapliton; or, fid thing it is to have an ungodly husband ! One's children mnst be brought up just as one does not choose." i^t, " We understand. Tour husband forces you to send your children to the dancing-school," said the doctor. "Yes, my dear doctor, that's my trouble. Those dear little immortals are sent to dance themselves to ruin. 0, dear! 0, dear!" , ^ The children are no sooner off than the servant calls out again, " Missus' cargo is at de door, to tak Missus to de op'ration." ..«ti..jT»-!.ri.i.-^i.^.t!ii,'.>.: ,t^ui.iw ■=^,*i^. " What operation are you going to seel" inquired Mra. " The fool ! " replied Mrs. Dunstable, greatly embar- rassed; "he means the opera. 0, dear! that's the misery of having a worldly husband. One 's compelled to go here and go there, right in the face and eyes of one's conscience." Out rushed the card-party, all dressed, and ready to accom- pany Mrs. Dufstable to the opera. "You see how it is here at our house, Miss Harcourt, — a perfect bedlam ! I did hope to enjoy with you a quiet, pleas- ant evening, in talking about gtod things ; but one s hus- band, you know, will control." ,^.,.^^^.,,^^.:,^:,j>,^,.,, ...,,■ , Sarah, grieved and disgusted, could not refrain from say- ing, " Your husband is certainly a temperance man, and you ought to be thankful for that." :^^ii;^y'^fif;'^mi^"..;f^^-^^ fl "La me ! that 's his old-fashioned way of talking. He 's no taste for anything but to be ugly, and plague me." ,^)i,f^ '^ This may be an extreme case ; but it was an introduction to others in sufficient number to convince Miss Harcourt that the drinking habit, in professedly Christian families, is one of the greatest obstructions to the cause of reform. This remark applies with special force to the clergy and church- MORE WORK FOR TUE MAINE LAW. m members ia England, whoso use of intoxicating drinks, in various forms, is almost as general as that of tea and coffee. There, temperance meetings are made up, for the most part, of the lower orders of society. There, the clergy do not give the cause thsir hearty support. They drink themselves, and hold the cup to their neighbor's lips. Intoxicating drink is common at ecclesiastical gatherings and entertainments. Consequently, there the temperance reform is far behinfl what it is with us. Sarah found in Mrs. Dunstable, Dr. Turnsol, and even in her own father, far more difficult sub- jects to deal with than in the Andrewaes and Prindles, because the vice of the latter was acknowledged, while that of the former was sustained by a delusive feeling of virtue. I * 4^'f *r.: ••f Shakspeakk. ; ' CHAPTER XIX.^^ * '^*-^ ,.,^i(t|>s»,;.-?v^ . THE DYING CONFESSION. , ,. : «f./nt-i ■m-ft^^ ' - ' ..'fisJburden' ^ ' ' V'''^' ^^ A Too heavy for a man that hopes for heaven." Spring began again to breathe its influence over Forest- dale. The escaping frost made the trees explode like the pistols of charging dragoons. The leaping brooks bore off, rejoicing, the liquefied crystal drops and fleecy robes of win- ter. The robin and blue-bird resumed their sweet song, and the hawk and eagle their gyrations in the upper air. The flowing sap of the maple yielded nectar, and replenished the farm-house larder with its delicious crystallizations. Little girls were out amopg the budding trees gathering trild-flowers, ''•«%K ■"%^ :m;I ^ii I :J i''^ 266 MApleton; or, and the Queen of May was wielding over her joyous train her blooming sceptre. Groups of stilted boys were taking uneasy steps with their elongated legs, while others were hurling and striking the bounding ball, and pitching the leaping quoit. The plough, spade and hoe, resumed their work of preparing for seeding, while the lambs leaped in the pasture, the calves frisked beside their dams, the foal whinnied after its absent mother, and the genius of herb and forest bounded forth from her wintry hiding-place, clad in her leafy robes, all spotted with pearl, vermilion, and gold. The whole scene was as buoyant and beautiful as if no battles had been fought, no intrigues practised, no agony of abused appetite had been inflicted or endured, and no competitions for social preemi- nence had disturbed the fair face of the world. , »* Would that nature's lessons were not lost upon man ! Would that the forests and leaves of his beautiful country- seat had charmed Skampton into tilling the soil, or into a business consistent with public virtue, or into almost any- thing, rather than this endless competition for general influ- ence, and this coercion of the future into the exact limit of the past ! Would that Gilfort could imbibe truth from the inspirations of nature : and Douglass, senior, learn temper- ance from the rills that water his lands ; and that Bludgeon would temper his zeal witii love ! Nature is a great reposi- tory of virtue and wisdom to those who are willing to use it as such. ■.■■..•»,■•■.. ■•--^ •. ^.-■,-'■■ ,-,•■% »- ■.. \ Society had evidently improved under the labors of young Douglass. Private quarrels were settled, instruction im- parted to those who had not enjoyed it before, books and reading were far more common among the people, and the advantages even of an humble, informal Christian pastor- ship were visible on every hand. Charles was active and kv k •\ MOllE WORK FOR THE MAINE LAW. 267 laborious, in spite of the inward sorrow which preyed upon him from day to day. The evil of having a drunken father seemed to him great enough without being hurled, on its account, from the position in society to which he felt himself entitled, Ho made frequent calls on his people, to aflFord aid and advice to those who needed. .^ How touching are the scenes which fall under the eye of a pastor ! How much does he meet with, in the most retired communities as well as in city parishes, to teach him the need of the temperance reformation ! It is owing to the constant contact of ministers with the evils of alcohol, as well .as to the dictates of their religion, that a portion of them were the first to move in this reformation, and that they have been, throughout, its most active and zealous coadjutors. While Miss Harcourt was encountering this vice in New York, and Bludgeon in his field of labor, Douglass, in his lowly parish, was witnessing some of its most dismal eflfects. ^ One of his families was burnt out by means of a fire kindled b^ a drunken father, and three dear little children perished in the flames. They were a poor family, and lived in a little log cottage too remote for help, when the devouring element lighted on them. The mother, the previous evening, went up stairs, and put her three little ones all in the same bed, while a fourth was still at the breast. She snugly tucked them up, heard them lisp their evening prayer for dear father and mother and baby, and then, with the fond maternal kiss, bade them good-night. At midnight her hus- band returned ; and, lighting a candle, started to climb the lad- der to the room above, where the children were, — stairs they had none,— ^ when his clumsy, noisy movements awoke his wife. " Henry, be careful of that light, or you '11 touch something I I I 268 MAPLBTON: OR, ':* !i n above, and set as all in a flame," she said, fearing wlittt his condition might be. f *^ ',, /^^ Her husband stood hke a statue, part;/ besotted with strong drink, and partly confouaded and stupefied by the greatness of th^ calamity in which his miserable habits had involved his family. The event produced a powerful sensa- tion in town, and Douglass used it to show the people how utterly insecure property and life are, with a larg^ portion of every community, under our pre.jent license laws. ' ' We have legislated on this subject," he said, " from the first years of our colonial history, as if intoxicating diinks were an enemy to society that must be guarded against, and yet no efil'otual restraints have ever been devised. The enemy is now more rampant than ever, so far as the traffic is con- cernfd, and will continue to be, till a cordon of law is thrown ar(nind.to make the sale as a beverage impossible. We must adopt tiit summary method of pouring into the gutter liquors kept for such a purpose. No quarter must be shown to the enemy. He must be dragged to the light from all his hiding- places, and doomed to instant annihilation. Humanity de- mands this. Civil society owes it as a debt to those whom it seeks to protect. More than half its burdens of crime and pauperage come from the present sale and use of intoxicating 23* 'his ^ 9t^ MAPLETON; on, * iimkB ; and it has a right to relieve itself of the burden hy stringent laws. Is it not as just and constitutional to remoy© temptation from the drunkard as to remove him from tempta- tion by imprisonment 7 In the one case you prevent the crime, in the other you punish it. In the one case you leave a father and husband to his daily routine of virtuous labor, to support a dependv^nt family ; but in the other you first torture and degrade them by crime, and then you deprive them of support, and compel them to starve or beg, or go to the poorhouse." m^jm-'W-'^^^'^' ' .^^viui;:v4/ •.•sf ■;:*:?. vi^ic*- This speech had a powerful effect in Forestdale, and almost every man in it signed a petition to the Legislature for the passage of tho Maine Law. ■-'' ^'V^^'- ^-y».■ Mc m-^m^^-'^^m^ On another occasion, Douglass was called to the death-beA\ of a young man whose intemperate habits and consequent exposure had brought on a quick consumption. He seemed anxious, as if he had something on his mind to disclose before dying, but which he felt constrained to keep secreted. Doug- kxss visited him daily, but still could elicit nothing satisfactory. He was making a plunge in the dark. At length, all seemed ever with him ; his eyes were closed, and pieces of money laid to keep them so, and his limbs duly disposed for burial. He revived, however, to the surprise of all, and, seeing Douglass by his side, he said, feebly, " It is of no use : I must confess, or I cannot die ip peace. Sir, I have been instigated to do you a great injury." " What injury have you done me?'' said Douglass, much surprised. "I have taken a great number of letters from the post- office which were directed to you, and have "burnt them." ^ " Burnt my letteVs ? What could have induced,you to do tills?" 'IR ^\ MORE WORK FOR THE MAINE LAW. m ^*'You must ask me no questions on that point. The oiie who instigated the crime must do his own confessing. It is enough for mo to confess the agency I have had in ii.",^^? , « r " What motive had he for destroying my letters'?" " I do not fully understand that myself, though one thing I know, the letters were superscribed by a female hand ; and I think some young lady is some way concerned in the case." i. "Where were the letters post-marked 7" inquired Doug- lass, to whom the idea now occurred that it involved an explf^natio-i of Miss Harcourt's strange disappearance, and still strangeil' silence.>^»^ '#' ;^^'v.. .^Mhf'T^^.'i^- '■(i!i.^-m^^'i>^:w'i^^' " At New York, except one, which had the post-mark of Troy." ■•.«■..: ••■:«si^^: !MimM'_ ' " Have you retained none of them 7" > ^^ -":' -i.y^if^.mn-mf^^- . " None, except this name subscribed to one of them, which I retained as a matter of curiosity, thinking I might learn more about the person." j:i.: 4»>~.^:. Douglass took a small piece of paper from the hand of the dying man, on which was written, in her own hand, the name of " Sarah Harcourt." After this confession, the young man sunk away, and soon died. Douglass stayed to attend his funeral, and also to inquire of the postmaster how his letters should have been disposed of in this manner. He could get no explanation, but made up his mind that a member of the family had delivered them, without the knowledge of the postmaster. He now flew to New York on the wings of steam, to unravel the entangled mystery. When he arrived, he was totally at a loss where to look for the fugitive family, as Harcourt had cut off all the clues to his concealment, so far as possible. He took lodgings at one of the principal hotels, and now devoted himself to the ono object of finding --. -v": r^f^v. . .' ' • ' - fill I 'I* ■ill i ![! 272 maplbton; or, iw#l hifl lost one. Amid the thronged streets he felt a keener sense of loneliness than he had done in his wilderness home. It occurred to bim, at length, whether Sarah might not have made the acquaintance of some of the clergy ; and he ^icalled on several, but could hear nothing. One of them had an indistinct impression that he had heard the name from some one, — he could not tell who, but believed it wcis Dr. Tumsol. Douglass, therefore, called on the doctor, and inquired if he had met with Miss Harcourt in his visits. 4 ^ "Miss Harcourt — Miss Harcourt — " said the doctor, thoughtfully. 'My dear," he added, to his chubby, red- faced wife, who that moment peeped in upon them, " was Harcourt the name of the young lady whom we met at Mrs. Dunstable's? )) ■ V'f'*'* --'"tiifli"*. 1- .-'j.-aSiv^-iijai-l (( Yes ; Harcourt was the name, — Sarah Harcourt, — a genteel miss, one of our aristocracy," said Mrs. Tuni^ol, and then moved off, with an air which seemed to say, "I'll not talk with you till I know who you are." ^ "Can you tell me where I shall find her?" inquired ^Charles. rf "I cannot, indeed. You'll learn at Mrs. Dunstable's, ii?128 street. You '11 excuse me, sir ; am very much engaged ; gocd-morning," said the doctor, and vanished. Charles now hastened to 128 street, where he was met at the door by a colored servant, of whom he inquired for Mrs. Dunstable. ^^j« ,. ** 4 " TV ill gemman please walk in, till I sees? " said the serv- ant, when her ladyship, hearing the inquiry, rushed to the door, to prevent the interruption of a call, abruptly asking, ^i "What do you want, sir? " 4.v3#.,4 m4 .*-*.*=:'' j-.i?,>^ -^h ^d* Charles stated the object of his call. -;;i J^^vut (^{i; -iS^u " I know the daughter. Follow up the Eighth Avenue a ''k MOBB WORE FOR THE MAINE LAW. 278 way, till you come to the Cock and Bull Tavern; there inquire, and you will learn j^rticulars. Good-momivig, sir." £'^n^;;''ii- ".rvftSMS^f^' ■4i;^i*i?^K^^',M«*-c^sisc5(i«t&$ji^^^ j ■ v^$ Charles could not repress a smile at the hauteur with wh'jh this was said, by one who bore so many marks of a vulgar origin and character. He set off at once for the Cock and Bull, — a definite point to reach an indefinite one. A long way off it was, indeed, — far beyond the expanded bound of the great metropolis; and, when he reached it, he was directed onward still, to a certain lane lined with trees, adown which he was to go till he came opposite a gate, a lawn, and grounds covered by ornamental shrubbery. He finally reached the gate, and, finding it locked, and no porter near, sauntered down to where the lane terminated, on the bank of the North river. Here he stood, enjoying the watery view, and think- ing, with palpitating heart, that the object of his search was so near, when, turning to look up stream, he saw Sarah on the beach, coming towards him. Both were alike taken by surprise, and felt thems ^Ives hardly able to endure the rush of emotions, though both succeeded in maintaining outward repose of manners. '•My dear Sarah, it is enough! I have seen you once more ! This !iioment of bliss compensates all mj sufferings." " 0, Charles ! how could you neglect me so long? Why did you nos answer my letters'?" " Your letters ! not one ever reached mo. Till this day I have been in suspense as to where you were, or whether the sight of me would be agreeable." "Is it possible?" said Sarah, with blank astonishment. " I wrote you at Terracegreen, explaining the cause of our leaving so suddenly ; I wrote you on the way ; and I have written you from this place ; till I found writing did no good." i|i i: I I: H' i'' m 274 maple:?on; or, ,fe'-.~ . " And yet, not one of your letters reached me ; nor^ singd- lar as it may appear, could I learn where you had gone."- r "How could this be?" ■ur'Jtw .-V:-.■vw^.^.,.)KVv,;,:^':■ ■-•;*v?s?';^>^ s,.!^" The reason is plain ; your letters have been intercepted," , said Charles, detailing the facts of the death-bed confession. •;j»*'It is my mother's God has brought this about! He watches over us still. Blessed be the Lord, our Rock and our Deliverer ! " x. ^:r:-Wi ^^'*^H^^«^:■■■.^*>^--. ^-.^v .:.';'tU«.>/"?' '7*- ■•?<-• " It is even so, Sarah; had not the Lord been on our side, then had our enemies quickly swallowed us up." .■':4r S* " Gilfort has a hand in this. I mistrusied it long ago. And this letter has just fallen into my harids, to confirm my suspicions," added Sarah, taking a letter from her pocket, and reading as follows: ■ -. ' v ! «, * \\ " My Dea^ Sir : My acquaintance in your family I deem the happiest event of my life. I desire to express the inter- est I feel in your happiness in deed as well as in icord. It is this which induces me to impart to you a fact which you are entitled to know. A young man who is unworthy of your confidence has made love to your daughter at a second interview, and in a most offensive manner. I have written to the Honorable Michael Skampton on the subject, who will acquaint you with the character of this fellow, and of his family. His father is a drunkard. If, in my zeal to serve you, and to do as I would be done by, I seem, in any respect, to overstep the bounds of propriety, please impute it to a defect of judgment, and not of intention. " Your obedient servant, "Samuel Gilfort." . t.-' ,1, " Did this letter lead to your flight?" inquired Charles, coolly. ^ , jff K ':^ MORE WORK FOK THE MAU'E LAW. 276 a man m^ -■^ffl^S'* ■9y ■*''^^i -i.. .t;- ,*«*' i: MORS WORK FOR THE MAINE LAW. <-i. m t> ■;'»; ,>Jnf .(♦'. 1 ! '^^»-f <':Vl- CHAPTER XX. ^^^]3i0^<^^^ ,^'ji^&^ikv-^,.- '.M.jifir '^mkM- f<:^t4 • THE SKAMPTON MILL GRINDING INFLUENCE. >T*( r»- ''' Ji' *' Ihf. Mac, Dr. Mac, you should stretch on a rack, 4 To strike evil doers with terror ; '.. liS. vv.. , .■ rpQ j^jjj^ jj^.^ ^^^ sense, upon one pretence, ' vi> Is heretic, danmable error." — Bukns. *:^;??J?i^-^^' ' Ages of bliss were compressed into the few short days of Charles' stay at Sarah's new home. The blooming life of early summer invited them out amid the enchantments of cul- tivated woodland scenery. All the pledges of fealty were renewed between them, witJ such additions as the unexpected, unknown danger seemed to require. They dismissed their fears, and gave themselves to recreation. Now they threaded the margin of the river ; now sailed on its bosom ; now angled in its waters ; now bounded joyously over the glade and wood- land ; now took excursions to Hoboken, Staten Island, Sandy Hook, and other places of interest ; now visited the curiosities of the city, and thus every amusement which leaves behind ho wound to health or conscience they enjoyed with a zest ren- dered the more intense by their habitual devotion to the good and the useful. To her eager devotees Pleasure is a coy di- vinity, but to those who live for their duty* she is profuse of her favors. ;. ; From New York Charles repaired directly to Mapleton, to consult his friends as to his future course. Study in some form and somewhere was now his destiny. When he reached the parental roof, the &mily remarked in him greater ohear- 34 3 r ft; III ■'Iji 278 MAPLBTON; OR, ;M fulness and repose of mind than ever before. The world went right with him, for once. Still, his joy was clouded by the appearance of his father, who seemed more than ever broken down in spirits. The Skampton groggery had been revived, and the dismal eflfects of its presence were visible on every hand. Drunkenness, indolence, riot and vice, were again the order of the day. Mr. Douglass had been repeat- edly drawn in and maddened by alcohol. The effect was to make him feel that he was now a confirmed drunkard, and would never bo anything else. 0, the agony of this feeling, in the sober moments of such a man, no tongue can express ! Shame is his watchword. It meets him at every turn. It mantles and burns in his cheek. It falls upon his ear in tho hootings of young children. How can he face that society before which he has so often actedjthe beast ? Mr. Douglass had ceased to be himself. He was a doomed man. He had fallen, not an honored, but a disgraced and abhorred victim of state legislation. ,.,;.,. ■... ».; „ ' " Father," said Charles, "what do you advise, in reference to my future course 7 " ' . '■''' ' - " ...'- ^ - ; - ■ " Eeally Charles, I have no mind about it. My opinion is good for nothing, any way." ' " ' f '• ■ •'*/'• ; ' " Sorry you feel so, father. You know how much I have always relied upon your judgment," * ■'' ■ ^ •• . < -> - *' Things change in this world, ray son," he replied, with a quivering lip and a falling tear, feeling in the depth of his soul that he was unfit for the society of such a son. He could no longer control himself, and left the room. How much is there to make one's heart bleed for the drunkard ! He has lost the control of himself. Alcohol has robbed him of man- hood and made him a brute, and yet the feelings of manhood will occasionally return to taunt him with his degradation. ■' { ■//'• MOBEI WORK FOR XliS MAIXG LAW. m " You see, Gharlet:, how much your poor father suffers,'- said Mrs. Douglass. " I never felt so tender of him as I do now »> " I fully reciprocate your feelings, mother. The success of S^ampton's suit against the town, and the reopening of his groggery, have done all this. Legislative wisdom is legis- lative madness ; legal justice, legal wrong, to fill the country with just such families as ours. 0, mother ! the pangs I have endured, God only knows. And this same Skampton is now pursuing me like a hloodhound, and I am not yet secure against his assaults. What influence he may have upon Harcourt, remains to he seen." "I see it all, Chdrles; I see it all. As to your future course, your father seems so unwilling to advise, and I have so little confidence in my own judgment in the case, that I think we had better consult our good Mr. Littlefield, and also Doctor Holliston. They are men to be depended upon." ^, " Very well, mother ; suppose you invite them to tea." " I will, this very week. I am the more unwilling to advise you, because I am afraid I am prejudiced on the subject. Such men as Skampton have so much to do in con- trolling 'r colleges and theological seminaries, that I am quite out of conceit of thera. They seem to me a forest of petrifactions to which we send our sons to gather fruit ; and when gathered they are apples of Sodom, outside fair and inside ashes. I may be wrong. You must not trust me too far." n .: .: . . ^. • " Mother, you cannot expect me to teach without learning." "True, you must learn; but where can you learn most ^ effectually 7 Here, at home, by self-education, under a private tutor somewhere else, or in a theological seminary 7 That is the question." „ ,. l> S X 'ir^i- •;mtr ^, s^^^.^. IMAGE EVALUATION TEST TARGET (MT-3) 1.0 1.25 Hi y^ 12.2 i MU4 di ^ 7. ^y^ >^') "if '>I-V''^' Photographic Sciences Corporation 23 WEST MAIN STREET WEBSTER, NY. MS80 (716) S72-4503 vV ^ 280 MAPLETON; OR, The proposed tea-party came off, and tbe subject wai^ brought up again for discussion. '' I have been denied the advantages of a public education," said Mr. Littlefield, " which makes me value it the more. I have boggled through life, for the want of it. If I had to begin again, and knew that I should be situated as I iiim in this cominunity, no consideration would deter me from going through both a college and theological seminar3\ I would have an education, if I had to dig for it. One feels so much the need of knowledge and mental discipline, when ho comes to stand from Sabbath to Sabbath before the same audience, to speak on the most important of all themes, that I am surprisied that every minister of the land, especially every uneducated one, does not raise his voice on high in behalf of learning." " I am not certain that an educated Mr. Littlefield would be worth as much to us as the uneducated one," said Mrs. Douglass. " Fervent piety and good sense are the principal requisites. Tour mind is now occupied with the thoughts and images of your people ; but how it would be, if it was full of classical lore, it is hard to tell. The learned, distinguished Bev. Dr. Littlefield might 'perhaps gratify and amuse every hundredth man among us ; while the plain, uneducated Mr. Littlefield hits the ninety and nine, and equally benefits the others." " I do not consider the worldly and irrelevant character which you ascribe to a learned ministry as at all necessary. It may be equally simple, equally fervent, equally aqceptable to ordinary minds, and yet vastly more rich in thought, dis- criminatmg in analysis, and powerful in the application of divine truth," said Mr. Littlefield. . " I confess my ideas of Mr. Skampton have had too much -, • ^■-- :' ' I ■ ■ ■ '-'.M: ■ " f" Mi 11 m: "^. MORE WORK FOR THE MAINE LAW. influence with me. We have suffered so mucli from him, and t^ he has heen such a cruel enemy to Charles, that I am afraid . of those institutions over which his money gives him so ,iDUch control. But, if our son must go into the mill again, why, then he must." " Those feelings, Mrs. Douglass, you must control," said <,Mr. Holliston. " Skampton and all of us will soon pass off tho stage, hut your son may he expected to remain to do his ^ work for another generation ; and shall we send him to it /unprepared? Shall we allow the present social abuses to divert him from the highest degree of intellectual and moral discipline, and leave him to do his work with an inferior grade? That would not be wise." " But where would you send him ? " said Mrs. Douglass. "I should send him to the Riverton Seminary," said Mr. , Holliston. ;:.vV/, '---.;*^^' -;';.- '^;^;"'- "^'.■ Charles shrugged his shoulders, and his mother exclaimed, almost With a shriek, " What! so near Mr. Skampton ? " " Skampton cannot hurt him," said Mr. Holliston. " That is the institution of our denomination; and you would not have him go out of it, of course. His prospects of success depend very much upon the educational imprimatur which he hears. If he were to go into an extra-denominational in- stitution, it would prejudice his prospects of a place among his own people. We look to our own school of the prophets for a supply, and not to those of other denominations. Be- sides, your son will need to measure his talents and form connections, with those young men who are to be his associates for life." % " Very well, Mr. Holliston, I will consent to have Charles go to the Riverton Seminary, provided you will go with him, ■*«?*•, 24*' y^-i^-"-^f^-ih-^my¥^ :,im^'§M:^j^ '% \ ,?%■■ 282 mapleton; OB, ■%•- nod explore the gronnd, and report to ns wliat we a^ to expect" *'f.^ "I am a trustee of the institution," said Mr. Holliston, *' and would be glad to go, as I have been so situated as not to be able as yet to act with them." Accordingly, immediate arrangements were made for Charles' departure, under, the care of Mr. Holliston, to become a student in that seminary, of which we have already made mention, as included in the panoramic view from the Skampton mansion. '^ *it ^ts The eddies and gyrations of party are, in this country, the wheels within a wheel to control all the movements of society. The man who falls within the suction is dragged down to the vortex, whether he will or not. It is the Jonah's fish, to swallow up those who attempt to escape. There is really more social independence in England than with us, for this good reason, that the man who expresses an opinion not con- sonant with his party position is less likely to lose his place. The plebeian principles of a lord cannot deprive him of his lordship, and a post-office scullion can vote for whom he pleases without danger of losing his bread. Things are more fixed, and not so easily upset by a thought or sentiment that does not exactly tally with party lines- Here a man had as well be out of the world as out of his party. And it is gen- erally left to the most crabbed and extreme partisan leaders, to determine the sense of the party, and what is legitimate to it. They are its great constitutional lawyers, whose opinions are fate, whose decrees destiny, to all within the party enclosure. Dulness is the social umpire, ignorance supreme dictator, and narrow-mindedness lictor and hangman. Every party has its watch-dogs to bay around its enclosure. This state of things is a restraint upon fieedom. Who wishes to be barked at, even if he is not bit 1 A man is fi)rced to \ '. E' MORS WORK FOR THE MAINE LAW. 288 ,( . mind what he says. Hie position depends upon it. An incautious word or sentence spoken or written by him, and, ** Flattering his pennons vaiD, phunb down he drops, -^^fe- Ten thousand foithoms deep." V Skampton was becoming more and more exclosiyely eccle- siastical in his predilections. He had been driven to this by the result of his law-suits, following Bludgeon's battle with the devil. When the cause was brought into court, there was such an expos6 made of Skamp ton's doings in the liquor ' trafHc, as to defeat his attempts to obttiin damages for slander. The horrible ravages of his groggeries In Mapleton and in other places were so graphically depicted by Bludgeon's law- yer, that the jury brought in a verdict of acquittal without leaving their seats. The costs were all saddled upon poor Skampton. This destroyed his last hope of putting down the temperance movement by the strong arm of the law, and led him for asylum to the church. Like that wily, hoary-headed courtier, Joab, he caught hold of the horns of the altar, and hoped to save himself and the liquor traffic by ecclesiastical proscription.' Skampton had an innate as well as educa- tional predilection for ecclesiastical matters. He had thought of studying for the ministry himself, and nothing but dulness deterred him. It was really this tendency of his character that led him to refrain so entirely from drinking, though he never acknowledged it to others, or even to himself. What may seem a little remarkable, also, was that Skampton, Bludgeon and Douglass, were all in the same ecclesiastical enclosure. Modem reform has made strange bedfellows ; or, rather, has led the lion and lamb, the cow and bear, to lie down together, without losing their oppugnance of nature. Skampton, after failing in his law-suits, was directing his ;i^: ^m 284 mapleton; OB, migh^ influence to the one point, of produdng 8uoli\ a state of things, in his church that it should sicken of characters like Bludgeon and all his crew, and vomit them forth. Such were his tendencies and his measures at the time of Mr. Hollis- ton's visit to the Riverton Seminary, in company with young Douglass. His conservatism, therefore, had become essen- tially dogmatical, though it had in view to reach, by Another process, the practical results of business, legislation, and all those worldly matters which he so much desired to control. If an enemy is only knocked in the head, what is the difler- . ence whether it is done by legal prosecution or ecclesiastical ! proscription, by public assault or private scandal, by a church I club or a state club ? The state club had failed, and the church club must now be put in requisition. ' • '-* V« >«> Hence, Skampton gave more than usual attention to the . Biverton Seminary. He hoped to raise up a phalanlE of : young men to echo his own views from Dan to Beersheba. He lavished more money than ever in purchasing influence, and yet the supply did not equal the demand. He filled the seminary with his creatures, and deposed those who would ; not become so. Dr. Treadmill, the principal, could not say 'k his soul was his own. It was tiot bis own, for Skampton bad monopolized it. A majority despotism is bad enough, but not to be compared with a one man power. We can bear the difiused rays of the sun, but who can endure their focal heat 7 Even steel melts under it like wax. So, after Skamp- ton had bought up and monopolized in himself all the rays of his party influence, ^he strongest men melted away at his touch. Dr. Treadmill could not stand against his influence. 'The seminary, of which he was the nominal head, was but a liquefied and conglomerated mass of Skamptonism. What .Trendmill would have been, if he had been disintegrated. m' MORS YfOm. FOR THE MArNB LAW. 1»5 there is no ielling. We are inclined to think &v«inibly of his individuality, had the thing heen posmhle. But what can be said for a man who has no alternative but to lose his plaoe, or swallow a Jonah? Treadmill not only swallowed Skampton, but a text-book of six hundred pages, which he committed verbatim et literatim, because Skampton thought that dead men^B opinions were safer to an institution than attempting to think for ourselves. The students would now and then chuckle at poor Treadmill's expense, calling him whale, because he had such an immense swallow for dead men's ideas, and none for his own. " Dr. Treadmill, what is the governing principle of your inr,; tution ? " inquired Mr. Holliston, in an interview which he had with that gentleman in the seminary buildings. " It is this, sir,-^that second-hand materials are safer to orthodoxy than attempting to originate for ourselves," said Dr. Treadmill, with his eyes resting on a curtain drawn across an arched recess on one side of the room in which they were CDnver8ing..r.. •■■-■...-. ■.•.--- -=---^.- .;■.... A■.^H^■■. ,-:....,, .,.-.w.^ ''•What ! do you think it sufficient to put a bone of John Calvin into the hands of a young man to fight the battles of the living age?^''^:'^'!^^" ■^•^''-^ ■■■"^"-^'^-"^^ ^^ ,-■»■-., jy- ■•: - ■^-►jv ■<,*.;-.." '-■.■•^.-..m'^' " t had rather trust him with Calvin's bone than with that of any man now on earth." t ^^^t-,; s". >-^<.fjj^^^, " Ay, yes; well, well, I see," said Mr. Holliston, thought* fully ,• '< then you think here that human nature is an im- mense petrifaction, and those who were long since converted to stone are more indurated and best for the living structure." * " Precisely so, Mr. Holliston. They are the primeval or granitic formation, in matters of opinion. What has come down to us in the black and white of the old creed-makers can be relied on, because it has become venerable ; but there is no certainty of what we think out for ourselves.'' 4 2m MAPLBTON; OB, " J?*'k 8o; I dee, io be sure," said Mr. Holliston, abstiiMit- edly ; '' then your mill grinds over the bran of past 8^, in preference to the products of a present horyest." h « Yes ; for this good reason, that it is a perfect security against smut," ijaid Treadmill, still eying the curtcin. "'Mr, Holliston laughed outright at this, saying, ''Really, this is a new idea. But there yias more smut in the reason- ing of past ages than there is in our own ; for they had not the same aids to truth, — none except those who were divinely inspired. So, you are grinding over the bran of old smut kernels, for fear of getting into your grist some of the smut kernels of the new harvest." Treadmill eaid nothing, but eyed the curtain. i "Do you confine your young men to making argume&ts against Rabbis and Sophists, because Paul expended so much of his thunder upon them? " said Mr. Holliston. " 0, no ; we content ourselves with pointing our guns just as John Calvin did his," said Treadmill, with his eyes still fixed iu the same direction. ,,^. " Why, this is like putting on the armor Don Qtuxote fought the windmilb with, to do battle in the midst of can- non, bombs, Paixhan guns, and steam-frigates." ;5>,< r ''Can't help it," said Treadmill; "we go for ortho- doxy." -^r-v ,'v ..-,-vj,. ■.^,; _:>;;.,. \,.':^.-ff.. " So do I," said Mr. Holliston ; "but my orthodoxy con- sists in pointing the artillery of truth, with all the modern helps for illustrating it, against the actual existing bulwarks of error. I deem it heterodoxy and nonsense to keep bat- tering away upon positions which the enemy long since aban- doned, merely because John Calvin found them occupied in his day, and turned against them 'the force of his gigantic intellect My orthodoxy consists in meeting the questions ..^Jw /. U MORE WORK FOR THE MAINE LAW. ^7 of the age right manfully, and, if tnith will not auBtain you, then die in the struggle." " It is useless to talk here. TV e know what we are about," said Treadmill, still intent upon the ominous recess. Mr. Holliston now took his leave, and joined Douglass at their hotel, heartily disgusted by what he had seen. He had no sooner gone than Skampton emerged from his lurking- place in the recess, and said, exultingly, " Bravo ! bravo ! Dr. Treadmill, you have acquitted yourself valiantly before that heretical dotard ! Tou have answered the fool according to his folly. I '11 fix him. He shall not hold place in our board another twelve-month. We want ^ none who will not fay in with the rest of us. The old fellow has become very cold to me, all at once. We have been long acquainted, and yet he has not called on me since he came to town." Mr. Holliston was so dissatisfied with Skampton's late rum doings that he did not care to continue his acquaintance; and therefore had not called on him. This was a source of great annoyance to Skampton, which he never forgave. /^ ^ - :''::-^Xi- *^ It is time that old4ellow had walked the plank," he said to several members of the board, the same day. - ?« - >?l "What, Mr. Holliston?" said one. "I thought he was an unexceptionable character." *• r;^ir*- . :;; ^w-^- » ■^^^''^ ' " We want none here to make disturbance," said Skampton. " Is he troublesome in the way of thinking for himself?" said another. " -*'P:r ■ ■^^m^'f:m-?m^?^m^^^^WW^<^- '"W'; "''i^^^ " It is enough to know that he will never blend in with ««," said Skampton. '-i^'-^ ■ v.&ii^*'*^::^:.'* ■ :^r, t*iii5v,#-^i^-,:i^fe5,^ -jf^, sM How will you get rid of him 1 " inquired a third. " His age and reputation give him a controlling influence with the " That is easy enough. Write what he is,—* heretic,' — M' '% 1:-, 2m. MAPLBTON; OR, and pin it ob hit back, and then see how zDuch infludjace Ha will have. Pegan's caustics will do the work. Do you. think our folks will have in this board a man suspected of heresy? " " If that won't do," said another, " we '11 send our young men all abroad, to cry mad dog against him. If a man will make himself troublesome to us, he must take the conse- quences. Let him be cashiered, that others may fear to go against our measures." ^kk. '* It is the more necessary to make our power felt just now, and to remove all from among us who will not go to the extreme against these temperance agitators, because I am now arranging to exscind them all by a single blow of disci- pline. We cannot and will not have among us a class of men who array themselves against all the precedents of trade, yis well as of truth. Our church must drive them out with a scourge of small cords." .*«:; While Skampton delivered himself of this speech, his expression of firmness and dictatorial power would have done honor to Hildebrand or Henry YIII. Accordingly, a train of measures was set on foot against tl^e venerable Holliston, which made his position uncomfortable ; and, not caring longer to retain an official position in anything, he quietly resigned. When Mr. Holliston met Charles at the hotel, after his interview with Treadmill, he was smiling, and repeating, in a funny way, the line of Watts : >4^^ " Hark from the tombs a doleftil sound ! ^, ■tfii: ,}'#'; ■'J^MS ^ *' Are you from the tombs? " inquired Charles, iaughing. ^" Yes, direct ; this is a region of death." " What ! nothing to feed life upon 1 " #,. ^ ij^ "Nothing fit to give the dic^gi." ^^^ip*^ --^ '. v^ ", V' ■l'\ MORE WORK F07 THB MAINE LAW. 289 >M.- . " Would jott feed your dogs on bones centuries old? '^ , -; ''Can jou not get a more recent supply?" inquired Charles, still laughing immoderately. '' No, the theology here dates back to Noah's drunkenness, where they get their liquor traffic and drinking habits." . "My mother, then, is not bo far out of the way." '^w.^... '' No, no; her instinct is better ihan our reason. She saw, at a glance, the nakedness of the land. I must yield to her superior discernment." -i,7,^ •-:'V.ti.:i.,,.«3c'4 Mt-t^ ^{)fim*ii-i>c( «f''. " What is to be done? " •<<£ v i4 , i*t..i« ^-i'.^ ji^^^y V. - " That is a hard question. What you want is a thorough discipline of your spiritual affections. These in tune, Charles, theology will come forth from your soul like music from the strings of an iBolian harp touched by the winds of heaven. But for you to be put into the rack of obsolete opinions, and screwed into the form of notions that long since lost the reason which may have justified them when they sprang up, is to make of you a mere automaton. They will squeeze out of you all the juices of nature. I wonder they do not send our soldiers to acquire Achilles' mode of warfare, and our spin- sters to learn of Priam's daughters how to turn the spindle. 0, for one plocd where young men could be trained to apostolic simplicity of thought, purity of diction, energy of action, and aptitude to preach the truth as it is in Jesus ! 0, for one place where soul took possession of form, and living thought of dead opinions ! I would recommend you to it, if it was in the sect reputed most heretical of any in the land." "Would you recommend me to leave?". , . - u - '% "I hardly know what to recommend. If the institution here were not arrayed against the reforms of the . age, I should think better of it ; as it is, my advice is for you to ^ 25 •^■4-. 290 HAPLETON; OR, Btay here under a private tutor in Hebrew and Biblical exegesis. Your Gr^ek and Latin are already sufficient. Wait a few months, and perhaps some light may arise on this difficult subject. Perhaps you may think it best to enter the seminary in due form, if they will take you, which I much doubt, from Hhe fear entertained of having some one among them whom they cannot hew to the length of their Procrus- tean bed." .«???' ^,^.vK' -v-:-rHi^ .;.;-m:h'- 'Wi ^m "■ - ' • Accordingly, such r, tutor was found in one of the ^^lofessors, who consented to do the extra, work of teaching Charles for the extra pay, which his meagre salary made the more acceptable. Skampton's policy was to reduce all around him to the lowest possible allowance, that he might have the more to buy influence with. He was coming to a pinch, and\ expected a demand for more than all his funds, to coerce his denomination into the excision of Bludgeon and his party. He was now, therefore, specially economical. Before leaving town, Mr. Holliston accepted an invitation to hear one of Treadmill's recitations. The professor took pains to show off to the best possible advantage, and, there- fore, proposed some extra questions, among which was the following : " Can you tell me which of the graoious aifections is prior, in the order of nature?" ; " No," said the young man whose t\irn it was to answer, — being one of those who, unfortunately, now and then thought for himself . ^ -:i-,-p/ ;.,■,/.- ':-'■}:•.* , ^" ■*;•' ■' With evident displeasure at such an answer. Treadmill called up another, whose spirit was kindred to his o^n, and repeated the same question to him. , v . \ ( "I perceive that the point of the doctor's inquiry is this," said the young man; "whether repentance, faith, love, or MORE WORK FOR THE JIfAINE LAW. 291 which exercise, is first in a converted person. Now, you know our Saviour has set us the example of speaking in parables. Well, then, wo will suppose that all the exercises of a regenerated heart are like the buckets of a water-wheel; and, the question is, when the water is let on, which bucket starts first 7 My answer is, the one that the water strikes first." To make this appear, he went into the science of hydraulics, showing that as the motion is in the water, and inseparable from the water, it must begin in the bucket which the water touches first. He added, " The tendency is to drive that bucket in a right line, which it would, undoubtedly, if it were not for the strong timbers connecting it with the other buckets. Hence, the impulse, being diffused through those timbers over the whole wheel, sets all its parts in motion, not in a right line, but curvilinearly. So, I conceive, that the motion is in the Spirit of God. That strikes the bucket of love, which is prior in the order of nature to all the other graces, tending to move it by itself and in a right line ; bi.t, being connected with all the other graces by indissoluble ties, moves the whole not directly, but circularly, producing in the soul the beauties of curvilinear motion, like the spheres." •: Here, giving a flourish among the stars, the young man sat down, while Treadmill looked round with a self-satisfied air, as if to say, " You see what we can do." He felt the more gratified at the fortunate turn the question had taken, because it illustrated a theory of his, that love is dropped into a man's heart from heaven without any antecedent exercise in that heart itself, just as the moon is said to drop upon the earth the pumice of its burning mountains. •iSifc;.vi;: ■■'^* '*k 292 liAPLfiTON; OR, ;i?V '%>_! i;}^' \>ss/^§'V«4^'1'^i(jf!a5f.^ i ■.ii'\\l> CHAPTER XXI. .';'^'fei^^f: ,--•/'!jr^" ■ " ■■" -;;fA^i^- When change is andertaken from interest, and not fixim principle, it often yokes itself wiih conservatism to keep back specific improvements. Thus Gilfort was united with Skamp- ton in money-making and against temperance, to further his own peculiar novelties, and to gain his own persona; ends. After returning and remaining with his colony in the West a year or two, we meet with hun again in Skampton's library. His arrival was with the pomp and circumstance of a dis- tinguished man of the world, in a beautiful carriage, with elegantly caparisoned horses^ being now, through the sale of his lands and the contributions of his followers, well to do in the world. He took the precaution of coming under the cover of darkness, because his mission required it " Bless me ! " said Skampton, starting up from his arm- chair P4 he recognized his visitor; ''Mr. Gilfort, is this you?" " Yes, me," answered Gilfort, shaking him cordially by the hand. " My friend, you look well ; in fine spirits, I see. I never saw you look better in my life. I '11 be bound you are younger than when we met last." "A good conscience, Mr. Gilfort, brings quiet and health; and health and quiet bring a youthful appearance." " Indeed, my friend ; no man ever laid a better foundation MORB WORK FOU IHE MAINS LA.'^. 293 of a good conscience than yourself. Always plodding for the-^ public good, I see," added Gilfort, observing in his hands a roll, on which he seemed to have been laboring. " Lay oflF your coat, lay oflF your coat, Mr. Gilfort; I am too absent-minded to be polite." Upon which Mr. Gilfort dojSed his outer garment, and disclosed underneath a black suit of the finest texture, elegantly wrought with silk and velvet, and ornamented with gold in all the forms in which that metal could be conveniently worn by a man acting the part he assumed. Everything betokened one from the mines of Potosi, rather, than from the dupes of, his artifice in the backwoods..' ■■'.•■ "' ■-■■"■' - ■ -v „ '-:.. -,^.-> .;■.:,■„.>,., " Mr. Skampton," said Gilfort, taking 'out a well-filled purse and throwing it carelessly on the table, " I have come, this time, prepared to show my interest in your seminary by a present for its library." " Very opportune," said Skampton, his eyes glistening with delight ; "the increase of our library is a thing upon which I am just now bestowing much attention." ,^ , .^..p,,,.; .,, ,. ,: " Is Charles Douglass a pupil? -.',;• .; " " We will have nothing to do with him, sir; ne is below contempt?" ,■..,.>„,. ;, , .,,..w.. " But he is in your town, is he not'l " ' ,, " I hear he is, and, in fact, I have met him occasionally in the street ; but do not know him, nor he me, I am happy to say-" ,.■ -..v; ,. „.:■.., :^*,,- .^ ^.-...-.: -: ...-., •- ..v> , ,- -.„i.-.v.:' ?;, " Well, I am distressed that he is again making that lovely girl, Sarah Harcourt, his victim. I have done my utmost to save her ; but a man with whom I intrusted a matter be- • trayed mo, — a rare thing of one whom I trust, — and their acquaintance has been renewed." >- -^^ l; .^ . " That is the very subject I have been this day belaboring, • •-;'m 25* SH mAplbton; OB, I have here drawn up a document to Mr. Harconrt, adVising liim by all means to break up the .connection between his daughter and Douglass." 4 ^ He read the document "A capital thought, a timely and benevolent warning!" said Gilfort, his snaky eyes beaming malicious delig It. '^ But you mistake the mode of accomplishing your object Excuse me, but I know the ground, I see, better than you do. Har- court is under the absolute control of his daughter, and she will be sure to counteract what you have written. Better go in person ; and then, let me tell you, you will not succeed till you fully assure Mr. Harcourt of the certain ruin of his family/ if this connection is not broken up. The daughter, I know, you cannot persuade. I have been to New York ; i know all about it" ■v»>-,..--^'r',v->^,/-.:-'-^:^'.;... « B he such a fool as to consent, a»er what I wrote him ? " ** No, he does not consent. In his heart he is more op- posed to it than any of us. But his daughter's influence over him is such, and his desire of pleasing her in all things so great, that he seems to have waived all objections, keeps quiet, and leaves things to drift." • r • " What is to be done?" said Skampton, anxiously. "This fellow is a ringleader against us conservatives, and such a marriage will make him a formidable beast" ;;, '/* - ,*^ » r: "I will tell you; I see it all. You must, as I say, fully establish the fact of the ruin Douglaas will bring upon the &mily, so as to leave no doubt with Harcourt on this point. Then you may expose the infamy of Douglass to the daugh- ter, and it is barely possible you may make some impression upon her, which I do not expect. But Harcourt will force himself into measures for her final separation from this fellow, rather than suffer the ruin of his house. He will not do it M ■r- MORE WORK SOa TUB MAINE |^W. t" openly, for he h&s not a heart to oppose her wishes ; but he will do it clandestinely,. if any feasible method cotdd be pro- posed by a man of yonr standing." " What method can I propose, Mr. Gilfort? " "I will tell you. There live, in the beautiful valley of the Wyoming, a wealthy and accomplished gentleman and lady of the name of Marmot, whose influence will be likely to cure Miss Harcourt of her infatuation ; or, at all events, they will break up all further connection between her and Douglass." " How should that be possible, so long as the pulse of the mail beats at almost every point in the land ? " <• But mails, my friend, are fingered by men ; and men, for &, consideration, are capable of appliances. I know of one here who will i' ercept the love ditties of Miss Harcourt, so that Douglass may search in vain for her whereabouts ; and I 'II pledge, for tb<^ Marmots, that his shall share the same late. .r ■'■'J^\.''..:f/^ -M ; '■:-.. 7'..\ ..,i>v ., .t,.-,/- y ^j.-,^.;,; ,,^,,K, ■:•,;:, j^^i... ^ "ViTould such a plot be right 7^^ said Skampton, whose conscience felt the pinch of so bold a fraud. - *^ .v.,^. . . Gilfort saw that he had leaked out too much of his heart, and hence exclaimed, with great apparent sincerity, " May God temper with discretion and virtue my zed to do a good office ! After all, is it a fraud? Is it an unworthy step, in a father, to intercept the flow of poison to the mind of a child 1 I am merely suggesting a plan on which Mr. Har- court himself may act. You and I have no responsibility in the matter. We can assure him that, in the family of the Marmots, Sarah will have all and more than her station in life requires ; will be surrounded by friends refined and affec- tionate, a country beautifully romantic, and, above all, that her situation will utterly preclude the possibility of further communication between her and Douglass n h m MAFLBXON| 0% '^■'■d" <' But suppose he insists upon knowing how this is to be brought about, — what then ? " n * " Whj, in that case, you can assure him of the consum- mate address of the Marmots, of their experience in such mat- ters ; and that they will be sure to do it entirely to his satis- faction, provided he should request it." ; - -> v^ , A. '' Let me see,'* said Skampton, thoughtfully ; " is it doing as I would be done by 7 If Sarah were my daughter,— hum — mum. But I was about to say, if Sarah were my do,ugh- ter, and I saw her in the jaws of certain ruin, would it not be right for me, in virtue of my parental authority, to take measures, secretly and against her will, to save her? "Would 4«he not thank me for it, in after years? Yes, yes, no doubt. |!Fhen am I not doing as I would be done by, in advising Ha]|^- f court to the same course?" By the time Skampton had gone over these thoughts in his mind, he was resolved ; and, leaping up of a sudden, he exclaimed, " Yes, my excellent ,, Gilfort, I see you are right. If your plan promises to suc- ceed, there can be no objection on the score of conscience. , But will it succeed ? " .5. " My friend," said Gilfort, earnestly, feeling that his point |: was gained, '' you can assure Harcourt, as a gentleman and a Christian, that no more communications will pass between his daughter and Douglass, after she is introduced into the Marmot family, provided he shall give orders to that effect. , You know deceit is no part of my character; and I should Jiot tell you this, did not my acquaintance with the skill and ^address of that family give me perfect confidence of its ,/,y'truth. i*w'?* '..Ji:: :v,^i -,^..; ■:;.il^-,>v:.4 .,; : . "■ -• . ,i|gj.l'\>. - " But how will Mr. Harcourt induce his daughter to visit i Wyoming? Perhaps she may refuse." :^ "That we will leave to him. Assured by yow of her ruin, .■\ If be ' MORE WORK FOR *ftB MAINE LAW. v, JSt unless the step is taken, he will find means of bringing it about. Nothing could be more likely to captivate such a mind as hers than the idea of spending time in the beautiful and poetical valley of the Wyoming." Gilfort spoke advis- edly, for he knew that this had been an old desire of Miss Harcourt. v ^ ii'"-' " Very well ; we will leave details to Harcourt himself. I like your suggestion, in the main, and will promptly and conscientiously perform my part. " ; ^ f '' C ' , "I have no motive but humanity and friendship for the Harcourts," said Gilfort, graciously. "'I do not hesitate to say that, by this act, Mr. Skampton, you will add another to your many deeds of philanthropy, and provide a sweet solace for the pains of your dying day." ' '" , ,,-^^. .^,.«;^^ . "Ah, my friend, my life is spent in the self-denying labor of doing good," said Skampton, with a look which would have done credit to any saint in the calendar. Poor man ! how little did he realize the snare in which he vioa taken to nis own rum ! - ■■■■■ ^ y•mr^'>^/^rw^ : "But your reward is on high, my excellent Mr. Skamp- ton ; and it will be a great and sinning one, as suited to your many Virtues." The result of this interview was, that Mr. Skampton started, post-haste, for New York, to execute the plan. He was ignorant of the darker shades of Gilfort's character, and had no just appreciation of the plot to which he was lending himself. He was incapable of so dark a deed. His ultra conservatism, united to a desire of influence and control which by this time had grown to be a monomania, was his ruin. He was determined to force the liquor traffic, slavery, and every antiquated notion, down the necks of posterity ; and, in order to do it, he desired to finger and control everything. Do- 298 MAPLETONJ OK, mebtio matters, marriage contracts, everything vronld go wrong, without his pious watch-care. Some apology must be made for him, because he was so frequently consulted on these points, — a circumstance which gradually wrought in him the feeling that he had a right to dictate, whether asked or not.. Experience taught him that the interests in refer- ence to which he made such enormous purchases of influence could not be managed without looking after the private mat- ters of individuals and families. Against Charles Douglass he had a bitter dislike ever after his personal altercation with him ; and this feeling had been further inflamed by the efforts which had been made, both before the courts of justice and the public at large, to implicate him in the drunkenness of Charles' father. This seemed to him a most preposterous idea, that, because he owns the house in which a man gets drunk, therefore he is guilty of making him drunk. He would gnash his teeth, when the subject was mentioned ; and, because Charles had often charged him with instigating the crime of his father, there was nothing too bad for him to do and say against that young man. Besides, Skampton was at this very time preparing to prosecute Bludgeon and his party in the ecclesiastical tribunals; and it was material to his suc- cess that the voice of Mapleton should be silenced. Mr. HoUiston he had already forced off" the track ; and he knew Charles Douglass would be as good as dead, if cut off" forever from the Harcourts. Such was the man now bent upon the ruin of this already afflicted and persecuted young aspirant to the clerical calling. 'v Mr. Skampton was announced to Mr. Harcourt and his daughter, who hastened to receive him in a manner worthy of his distinguished position. It happened that De Lisle had called, and was engaged in familiar conversation with Sarah iW" .( r MOJRB WORK POR THE MAINS LAW. 299 at the time of his arrival ; and Skampton, observing the noble person and gentlemanly manners of the young man, felt a secret hope that a more engaging suitor had already accomplished the work on which he came ; and, retiring to an adjoining room, he said to Mr. Harcourt, "I see the urchin who had the battle with the deer is likely to get the slip." •• The slip? No ; I wish in my heart he might ! But no one else has any influence with my deluded child," said the father of Sarah, with bitter chagrin, that her heart should not be open to such a man as De Lisle, of whose delicate inten- tions he had no doubt. ■ ' ''^^^'"^ ^' ' ' '' ' "'' "" " Well, what is to be done, in that case 7 " said Skampton. " Done ? — nothing ! Fate, you know, governs ; we must yield to fate." ,'• What! without an effort to avoid the evil? " ''Perhaps, after all, Douglass may make my daughter happy. Her thinking so will do much towards it, will it not?'^ ..f. ..:..>.-•,, "No, Mr. Harcourt," replied Skampton, impressively. " I tell you, on the honor of a gentleman and Christian, that he will be her ruin. You must suppose I have the means of knowing ; and that, being a young man to whom I extended charity at one time, I should naturally desire his advance- ment." ■*,,,; --.T;. i>-..,r; -%:-':oti--'''v" ' -*/■ ■' ■ '■^■''-r-:^* k"":?^-: v^ ' " Was he dependent on charity 7 " replied Harcourt, with a 8neer.■:rn■t,.-;^ ■y-:v«if;;'r^s;,, r;';^^,^^ ^:-',.-\'-. ;:;, ^.■:.•■ •■\:'.:.*''- ■ «-* "Yes, on my bounty; and I found him the most impu- dent, impertinent, hair-brained fellow I ever had to do with. Our college at Diddington was forced to pass upon him an act of expulsion. Besides, his father is one of the most furious ^unkards in the country, and will no doubt end his "^ ■I .'14 ■ 800 MAPLETON; OR, days on the gallows. He is always full of murder as soon as he has liquor in his head ; and, like father like son, — that you may depend upon, in this case. They are as much alike as two peas." ;. ■,... ,■,:,. . .-v' ^,:^ 4^..-. . "Is it possible? What' is to be done ? " exclaimed Har- court, with blank astonishment. ij A.^:;|i*4 ,,%. ^,> V '' I will frankly state to her these facts, and she will break the connection at once. She is too good, too noble, to unite her destiny with such a base fellow, and such a worthless family." • "0 that it might be so ! But I fear not. You do not know my daughter. She never gives up a friend." ^^^ :, . ., ; " Not when he becomes an enemy 7 " " The thing is to make her believe that You can try, and I will do my utmost to help you. This ill-judged engage- ment has poisoned all my happiness, since I came to the city. It is too aggravating to see her tied down to that little coun- try rustic, even if he were right in other respects, when wealth, talent and noble blood, are at her feet." As soon as Sarah was disengaged, she came tripping lightly into the room, to show due respect to their distinguished vis- itor, "How do you do, Mr. Skampton? It is a long time since I had the pleasure of seeing you, — when I was a little girl, I think." i, , , , ..^. " Yes, in Mapleton," said Skampton. ,, " By the way, have you seen Charles Douglass, of late? He is in your town, I think. You remember he was confined at our house by an injury, when you was with us last." "I remember well, though, in truth. Miss Harcourt, his character is such at present that I should be ashamed to confess I know him." ^ , ^; . i &.>:; J.^ ■ ■ \r' J* \ ,'it. ^^m MORS WOBK FOB IHB MAINS LAW. 801 " What do yon mean, sir? " said Sarah, with an expression of wounded feeling. ' "Mean? I mean yon have betrothed yourself to a man as unworthy of you as Satan is for a seat in Paradise." '**'Sir," said Sarah, calmly, but firmly, " I know Charles Douglass, — I have known him from his childhood ; and the r testimony of a thousand prejudiced witnesses would not shake my confidence in him." " My daughter," said Mr. Harcou.^with great emotion, yet tenderly, "do not treat our worthy guest with dis- respect." " I mean it not so, dear &ther," said Sarah ; "I know the circumstances have been such as to give Mr. Skampton a prejudiced view of Mr. Dougl&ss' character. I will vindicate the rights of an injured friend. I will let the injurer know that he can find no favor with me. It is useless to talk in this strain. I have all the means of knowing Mr. Douglass' ' character which I desire." ^ :^ . ^. ,; "My daughter, my daughter! " cried Harcourt, in great agony of mind, " consider seriously whether Mr. Skampton has not had better opportunities of judging than you have. Do hear his testimony ! Young men change. Whatever Mr. Douglass was in time past, he may since have become un- worthy of your confidence. Who has better means of know- ing a young man than his benefactor, feeling, as he may b3 supposed to, a Other's interest in him 1 You are too hasty ; you will not allow Mr. Skampton to state facts." ■ . ; >S?e= "Very well, sir; what facts have you to state?" said* Sarah. 'W ■' ^ ^-■-' ' ■:-'^-^ '■' - •' ■•'■■■.- "^-' - •-- "^^ Facts, — do you ask me for facts T" said Skampton, with nervous excitement at the promptitude with which Miss Har- court met him. 26 802 MAPLITON; OR, ^ja it Yes, please gire us one to justify your views of Mr. Douglass," said Sarah, mildly. ^ 'it< ^t^ " His father is a drunkard, and likely to be a murderer ' « "^ho made him so? Who held the cup to his lips, in spite of the tears and entreaties of a wife ? " said Swrah, firmly. * f- --" " You are personal, Miss. Do you mean to insult me ? " said Skampton, now more agitated than ever. "Not at all," replied Sarah; "I am' after the facts. I have the meana of knowing that Mr. Douglass, : senior, was well bom and educated, and withal of a noble nature ; but that he became a victim of the drinking customs of society, and was ruined. But he Reformed, and would now be virtuous and happy as any of us, but for the temptations with which interested men have surrounded him." , ,^w. *.- . -. "Does anybody compel him to drink?" said Skampton, with ill-suppressed anger. .■^j^v^atK',' i,- ivifi-4^ An^^e-,. ir " No, they only take advantage of a weakness induced by indulgence in drinking, for the sake of a little paltry gain. But, then, what has Charles done ? Is he to be blamed for his father's misdeeds ? " •:\^% ;%>::>•: v ^^ "h;s\4?ii*:'f M. ym^'A - " No, he has enough of his own, in all consdenoe. Ask Diddington College, from which he was expelled for his bad conduct." ''^fc' '\i^^^'^(i^/i it "I have a letter from the president which tells a very different story." Sarah now produced and read from it the * following: "Mr. Douglass was expelled for no fault of his own. He was our best and most orderly student. He was sacrificed to a question of life or death to the college." " The scoundrel ! the scoundrel ! " said Skampton, rising and pacing the floor in an agitated manner. ''J[ '11 make /* * ■r UORB WOIiK FOR THB MAINE LAW. 808 Mr. derer „,^,/, him smart for that ! The truth is, Miss, Douglass was on my charity, and yet insulted me to my face. He richly de- served expulsion, and that the faculty will say^ in spite of their lying president. " " He never knowingly accepted your bounty, sir ; and restored it, every cent, with interest, as soon as he learned the fact. I honor him for his spirit on the occasion." " Honor him ! honor him ! " said Bkampton, sneeringly; " I think he '11 need it when he is deprived of the priesthood. Our denomination will depose him for heresy, as soon as they have time to act." " This is another charge ; — pray, on what ground 7 " " Our seminary would not receive him, if he offered, they deem him so unworthy of the calling to which he aspires." '' He has not offered, I am thankful to say," added Miss Hareourt. " Theology cannot be measured off by rules and definitions. It shineth in the sun ; it beameth in the stars ; it bloometh in the earth ; it speaketh in the Bible ; it beateth in the hearts of the good, the least of whom has, in himself, the basis of an independent judgment. 'He needeth not that any should teach him.' If Mr. Douglass is what I believe him to be, I would give more for the theology he already has than all yoii can teach him." '"^ ?f - - « ^^ . ?:. -^ ■ '"' Skampton, bethinking that she was a lady, restrained his burning indignation, saying to Hareourt, in an under tone, "Enough." ■ *"■■■■ ' ■-.;>-, V-.,.' - ...v.- -r -• " <' Enough, till you state something more conclusive than this," added Miss Hareourt. ^ :• '" .-•;:^: f i.ii'.Ai:' ••r , ff.;"??^ ,r Preaents a thousand ugly shapes ; ,, , | ^^ ,^ , '•• :«^^ ii"--^ Headless bears, black men and apes, Doleful outcries and fearAil sights '■' My sad and dismal soul affrights." — BubtoiT. No further interviews took place between Sarah and Mr. Skampton, except of the most formal and commonplace kind. But he remained housed with her father several days, divulg- ing and maturing the plan of Gilfort, — the name of that gentleman, however, being never mentioned between them. This was probably owing to a desire, on the part of Skampton, . to monopolize the credit of it to himself Every particular in reference to the Marmots, their precise location, character, circumstances, and fitness for the trust to be committed to them, were discussed, all of which were made to appear in the most favorable light, and were carefully treasured up by Mr. Harcourt. Sarah, meantime, had a presentiment that mischief was brewing, though she had not the remotest suspicion of the real facts in the case. The following letter bears date near the time of Skampton's visit. -**;•!. fAj: " My Dear Charles : I have a mysterious feeling, which I cannot get rid of, that something is arising to interrupt the freedom of our intercourse. I am not superstitious, nor do I judge wholly without facts. Those facts I can state only MORS WO&K FOR TUB MAINS LAW. 805 in person. I do not like to interfere with your studies ; and yet, if you need relaxation for a week or two, I hope you will turn your footsteps this way. Happiness is too dear a possession to be left unguarded, or carelessly thrown away. Let us, therefore, look out for birds of passage. All you ever was to me you are ; and all I ever was to you I am. Is not this so ? Why do I ask 7 Am I not in the hands of my mother's God ? My serenity is undisturbed, though occasional clouds intercept the bright beams of my hope. But clouds diversify our mental as well as our physical condition, and teach us the value of sunshine. These broken lines will convey to you more than to another, my heart, my soul, my best and most devoted interest in your happin^us. " Sarah." ,^-1 «..■■.»•<■. 1- This letter was dictated by a fear that he who was capable of slandering Douglass to her would be equally capable of slandering her to him. Sarah deemed no explanations safe, in a case like this, but those which should be made by word of mouth. Charles replied, immediately, that an extraor- dinary event had just then occurred to detain him a day or two. Immediately upon his arrival in Biverton, curiosity to see the man whom Gilfort had so singularly defrauded led him to make the acquaintance of Roderick Dobson. He hoped, also, to do somewhat towards reforming the miserable man, who, he learned, was now more deeply sunk in intemperance than ever. Nor were his efforts without the promise of suc- cess. Dobson relinquished his cups for a time, and resumed his business. But the loss of his money preyed upon him so much, when he was sober, that he plunged again into dissipa- tion, to drown his trouble. This tendency was further strengthened by the efifects of the wound he received on 26* ■vv^^■V.;3.!:v*:'f:.. 806 W^4''^SijWi-pUlT0N] OR, ^.' t^-iH.i^^^, the night of Bludgeon's battle. His nature seemed physically, mentally, and morally, broken down, and nothing but bodily coercion could keep him from drinking. He retained prop- erty enough still to supply rum for uis burning thirst ; and all, beyond a meagre support for himself and wife, went that way. His wife, so far from checking him, had, from sympathy or sorrow, fallen into the same habits. The alcoholic demon reigned absolute within their doors. It was a very pandemo- nium for all the possible devils of conjugal hatred, abuse, contention, fighting, and wretchedness. About a week before the receipt of Sarah's letter, Dobson had laid in a barrel of whiskey, after which both of them lay drunk night and day ; and on the very morning of the day on which he received the letter, he called at Dobson's, and learned the state of affairs. Douglass found them both dead drunk, and shockingly bruised and blackened by the blows which they had inflicted upon each other. He watched over them until they became sober, furnished them with a good fire and an ample supply of ready-cooked food, and then procured a little girl, at one of the neighbors', to look after them, and do any little errands they might find occasion for. They were too much debilitated to be left alone. He then locked the door of the closet in which they kept their whiskey- barrel, and took the key with him, to make sure that they drank nothing till he should see them again. On his way home, in the evening, he took Miss Harcourt's letter from the post-office. ' The next morning, early, he repaired again to Dobson's, anxious to see them out of their critical condition before going to New York. As he approached the house, a horrible odor assailed him, such as he had never before encountered. He looked round the house, to detect the cause, but could see MORE WORK FCR THE MAINE LAW. tm nothing but a subtle fume exuding from the chimney and crevices. What can this mean 1 He knocks at the door, but gets no answer. He knocks again and again, but with the same result. He tries to open, but finds it confined by a strong lock. Why is this? Where are they ? The odor is horrible ! He goes to the neighbors, and inquires for the little girl, and lea,rn3 from her that Dobson broke open the closet-door with a sledge, soon after he left, and brought out a little four-quart pail full of the whiskey, and began to drink. He then ordered away the little girl, and locked the door behind her. •' ' v ., • Douglass returned and forced the door ; when, lo ! out rushed a volley of fetid air, that well-nigh sufibcated him. He stepped back a few paces, until the room was somewhat ventilated through the open door, when he returned, and, horrible to tell ! there lay the charred and blackened remains of Dobson, manifestly dead by spontaneous combustion ! The room, and all its fumiiure, were covered with a thick yellow substance, filthy and fetid, to shock every delicate sensibility. In another part of the room his wife also lay dead, as it appeared partly from suffocation from the exhaling fume of her burning husband, and partly from her own excessive druiikennes?. The contents of the pail were all gone. Dob- son probably drank more than his share of the liquor ; and, as his constitution was already rendered combustible by pre- vious drinking, this deep potation set it on fire ; and it went off in blue flame and exhaling fluid, extinguishing both his own life and that of his besotted companion. After waiting long enough to bury all of this miserable couple that remained for interment, Charles started, -post- haste, for New York. The few days he spent with Sarah were happy above thought or expression. Ages of pure 808 ^^^Ml^.., MAPLBTOK; OR,.f^?PJ|: delight seemed compressed into a moment. They expatiated on the events which had occurred since they last met ; on the memory of Mapleton, Terracegreen and Forestdale ; Canau- deh, the arbor, their hopes, aspirations, and the high privi- lege of living to do good, even in the humblest sphere. On the subject of her presentiments, Sarah frankly told all, — Skampton's visit, her interview with him. what he said and her replies, how her father had since appeared ; and yet, her remarks were so pointed with love that Douglass had a better opinion of all the parties concerned than he had before. " Dear Sarah, my heart assures me that I have no bitter- ness for Mr. Skampton, though I have suffered more from him than any one else. I pity the guilty more now than ever," said Douglass, alluding to the horrible death in which Dobson's sin had ended, of which he had given Miss Har- court a minute account. '*I know you have sufffered much from Mr. Skampton, Charles ; but I had a hund|:cd-fold rather be in your place than his. I pity the poor man's delusion." " Well you may. I have watched him for years, and do not believe there is a more indefatigable man living. He really feels that the care of all the world is upon him ; that, but for him, the land would be maddened by reform and ultraism; that governments would run wild, the church become corrupt to its core, and everything go to decay. Ho is the pivot, in his own estimation, on which the destinies of society turn." ' - . "Is it possible? I am afraid of such a man. Who is secure against his interference? I never understood him." **Well, it is so, my dear Sarah; though I think these feelings have increased r.pon him since the failure of his law- suits against Bludgeon. He is now struggling to supply by MOBB WORE FOB THS MAINE LAW. 809 J) influence his lack of the physical coercion of the law. I am told by a student who is familiar with him that he dous not sleep nights. He is running to and &o, advising this and advising thai, dipping into this man's affairs, exposing this and that one's imaginary error and wickedness, circumvent- ing this, that and the other, supposed enemy of his conserva- tive policy ; and, in the midst of it all, he has no repose. This student says he lives continually on the borders of a brain fever, and, on one occasion, was actually attacked, when the young man was called to watch with him, and he passed the whole night in the paroxysms of insanity, fisting the wall, under ^he notion of killing temperance men, here- tics and devils. His very complexion is blue with restless care, and his face is elongated beyond its usual dimensions. Did you ever see a brow so heavy and deeply shaded? He moves among us like night. Never did a man suffer more fictitious or more real sorrows,— fictitious as to their reason, but real in their influence upon himself." .>'..►«,,., ^^ " Charles, you surprise me. Is it true that this odious intermeddling in private affairs is common 7 " "Yes, common as the flakes of winter. He is a perfect terrier, pursuing his prey through every subterraneous wind- ing, and never giving it up. I expect always to have him on my track, till relieved by death, or the destruction of his influence. He can never forgive, not the wrongs our family have done him, but those that he has done us. If it were the other way, there would be hope ; but, so long as his con- science needs the relief of making us the criminal party, he will continue the untraced war." "Who is safe, with such a man to deal with?" ' *- "Echo says, 'Who?' How many have been ruined by his dogged pertinacity ! And yet, he is not so bad a man as LI 810 ^' W ^ MAPLBTON ; 011^ I yoa and I wotdd be likely t6 represent He is one of those constitutional conservatists yrho regard all change in opinion or usage as a personal injury done tD themselves, and all reformers enemies to their own peace and the happiness of mankind. They are the watch-dogs to bark at innovation and innovators. And, besides, Skampton places an over- estimate on his own influence and responsibility. His pride of station is prodigious. He is not aware of it himself, for it enters into his very blood and being. He is conscientiously meddlesome, and religiously oflficious." ** What can have deluded him into this high opinion of himself? His talents are moderate." "Money, money, and the flattery money brings, haye bewitched him. He has not the generosity to give without the hope of a return, but always sends in his bill for special consideration, personal control over those who receive the gift, or some subtle remuneration of the kind, which he deems an ample ofi&et for his money. By the payment of my tui- tion bills for a few years, he had acquired the power, in his own estimation, to forbid my temperance efibrts. Hi? object was, to buy me up as one of his runners. He has hundreds and thousands whom he has thus bought up. He has given, as he calls it, several hundred thousand dollars in making these purchases. Of course, it has swelled his little personal self unto kingly power. He is an enormous social fungus, fed by the acrid humors of a diseased and feculent public sentiment. He is consulted on all subjects. This further swells his per- sonal consequence, and increases the evils which he endures and inflicts." • x \, " After all, my dear Charles, there is an overruling Provi- dence who protects the innocent. We are safe in his hands. MORE WORK FOB THE MAINE LAW. 811 Let us not requite with evil Mr. Skampton's efibrts for the public good." . ^^f;:'*w■«■^,,:...,a:.*« -a? : ;v : i- -p- • . ,^ _^; "There is no danger, Charles, of leaving it there." ' " My heart tells me it is true. And I know yours is. I do not doubt, I cannot fear, that our union is a provision of divine wisdom, and will be brought to pass by parental love." •' Think not, Charles, I have any misgiving on that point. No, no ; had our plighted vows never before been exchanged, my heart's purest feelings would dictate them now." " Sarah, dear, as you say, let us look out for birds of pass- age. If you receive fifty letters in my hand-writing, con- taining things inconsistent with these vows, you may know, before Heaven, that they are vile forgeries. My heart, my hand, sweet girl, could never, never move in such a strain." " Should you, Caarles, fail to hear from me, or should you learn things of me to give you pain, then know that all is false, and that I have your interest at heart more, if pos- sible, than my own. Affection gushes up from the hallowed fountains of my soul, to assure me we are one." "0, Sarah! how can I leave you, being oV my being? For my sake, do not too rudely expose yourself to the even- ing dews, in your walks. I have suffered, 0, how much ! lest a cold should early deprive me of you, by consigning you too soon to your mother's hectic d^th. That would be my ' a 812 f^0;^ .JfAPLBTOlT; OB, ;-k!»:,' .T --.'.;. -.u,..,;! .•..-. ■ ..,rl«'-i^ii?j»ci-W'^!i&'« " I will take care of myself I would live for your sake. I would comfort my poor father; though, I confess, to join my sainted mother sometimes appears to me far better." -"^ ' " Halloo, there, sir ! are you the man who has ordei d my coach ? " cried a voice before the house to Douglass, about taking his leave of Sarah, in the hall; ''come on, come on ! we are oflF; the cars will leave you." " One kiss, in spite of this savage coachman," said Charles, when he mounted the coach, with the sweet voice of her he loved so much pronouncing in his ear, " Faith, faith, faith is our victory." Tears flowed copiously on both sides, and a ijombre feeling settled down upon their spirits, as though they might meet no more on earth. Charles returned to his studies, and Sarah to the even tenor of her charities and her duties; with this understanding, however, — that, on the ensuing September, they were to meet again, and unite their destinies for life. Mr. Harcourt seemed moody and unhappy. His daugh- ter was his life. He saw and appreciated her worth. But he now fully believed, from the representations of Mr. Skamp- ton, that she was on the borders of ruin. He had, till now, hoped against hope ; but black despair had succeeded to its place, and he felt compelled to adopt measures wholly incon- sistent with his . usual frank manner of treating her. Such measures, so far as he had already adopted them, seemed to create the necessity for more, as one lie requires a dozen to cover it. His heart revolted at the idea ; it was more than he could quietly endure. The duplicity of his flight from the plantation was torture to him; and how could he survive something far worse 7 He was inclined to give up to the !! ;i* MORE WORK FOR THB MAINE LAW. m dmy about now, plot, and let things take their course ; but then he would say to himself, '' Mr. Skampton knows ; my judgment is good for nothing. I have dwelt upon the subject till I am addled and confounded. If I fail of breaking up this unfortunate connection, still, when her ruin comes, it will be a consolation to have tried. Persuasion is lost upon her. Stratogeip, stratagem is my only hope." V ^ ;:«^- ^^ -• ^M ^-Jil Parents who entertain doubts as to the delicate attachment of a daughter whom they tenderly love are the only ones to appreciate the feelings of the anxious and suffering Harcourt. His bosom was the home of torturing sensations. To relieve himself, he drank deeper than ever, accompanying his daily bottle of wine with certain trimmings and additions, such as a mint-julep before dinner, hot punch on retiring to bed, or a cocktail at any hour when the fancy took him. These super- numeraries were not only necessary as a solace for trouble, but to meet the increasing demands of the alcoholic worm within. Still, Harcourt never went beyond the bounds of genteel drinking. No man was so intolerant as he of the out-and-out drunkard. He thought even a prison or a sty too good for such a wretch. Harcourt did not acknowledge it to himself, but it was nevertheless true, that the secret hope of having De Lisle for a son-in-law had its injQuence with him. The feet of that gentleman's, great wealth and high birth excited his vanity and inflamed his imagination. Scarce a day passed without a visit from De Lisle, — not, as Harcourt supposed, on an errand of love, but of religion. He could not appreciate such a motive, but attributed it to the overpowering attrac- tions of his daughter, to which no one was more sensible than himself. Hence, he entered at once into a correspondence with the Marmots, and found things answer to his expecta^ 27 M: €• 814 IIAPLETON; OB, 'Ar^jU Horn. He, therefore, arranged for the contemplated visit, though he was still in doubt as to the most feasible mode of breaking the subject to Sarah. Thus things went on till May, when he contrived to take her in the snare in a way to elude suspicion, and, alas ! to involve himself in hopeless woe. He had his request, but leanness came into his soul. To ahun one evil, he encountered nothing but evil. ^- -^^ :4*' w;r< ;H!^L«i:.r.i* ■;.-;{"•; ' ': ' -^ '• . \ '^"-.''f' "t^'k'^ --' T'lf,^ -.;.'; .-ri}. . X . \ ,f«;,- t^-^^**'^^" CHAPTER XXIII. ' ;,j,^j BXCUBSION TO THE VALLEY OF THE W' ^^-'''l'^'"'' *' So sweet a spot of earth, you might, I ween, Haye guessed some cougregation of the elves, '' ■ "r To sport by summer beams, had shaped it for themselves." ,.;^ ..- . .:.^ . . ._ .. CaMPBKUi. Rising one morning after a feverish night, the father of Sarah hastened to her room, and embraced her as usual, only with greater tenderness, calling her by every epithet of en- dearment that a father's fondness could suggest, — my love, my darling, — exclaiming, " My adored daughter, what could I do without you 7 " - ^ ,. "Dear father, what could I do without you?" replied Sarah, kissing him tenderly. ^ , ' . -,^> . " This is a sweet morning, Sarah. How soft the breezes ! how balmy the air ! how beautiful the flowers ! how joyous the opening leaves ! how bland the aspect of nature ! how sweetly your Tiny sings ! And what do you think I have been dreaming of, through the night? " "!■•■ i "What, dear father? I cannot imagine." p:^:^^m^yr MORE WORK FOR THE MAINE LAW. 815 "To escape from our prison to the freedom of life in the country. I long for God's groves, and not man's ; for his flower-crowned valleys and hills, in place of our parterres ; for herds of kine and flocks of sheep ; for the vernal song of birds in their native forests, and the joyousness of a rural landscape. I must away to the country; and will you, Sarah, go with me I " ^ .;. ; ,. v',; ^,3, . r, V ,y v Wf;sfffK^> "To the plantation?" * ' ■ .»|v. v /v..v-^ "No, to the sweet valley of the Wyoming. You know how often you have desired to visit that region of poetry and romance." . . , - ,. r . . . . r . Sarah, running over in her mind the months to September, when she and Charles were to unite their destiny, began, unconsciously, to count, "One, two, three, four. Yes, father, I will spend the summer with you in the country. When will you go ? " "To-morrow." ^ - . ■ " No, father, not te-morrow, — that is too soon, — but the next day. The next day I will be ready. I must visit the shops, and make purchases first." " Very well, — the next day." The appointed day came; and Harcourt, to make the journey agreeable, performed it in his own carriage, by easy stages, that they might enjoy at their leisure the country scenery. Anticipating his speedy separation from Sarah, and the painful ordeal through which she had to pass, his heart yearned over her with all the fondness of a father's love. He would often clasp her in his arms, and fondle her as if she were but six years old. Sarah had no suspicion of what was working in his mind, such outbursts of tenderness being no uncommon thing with him. On the day which terminated their jovrney, the morning was unusually fine. They took 816 maplbton; or, W an early stage to enjoy a sunrise among the mountains, to sharpen their appetite for breakfast, to inhale the pure ex- halations of the teeming earth, and to reach a certain humble inn, called the log tavern, situated in a deep ravine by a leap- ing brook, yrhich had the reputation of breakfasting its guests on the most delicious trout. It was as romantic as humble. Their ride was among hills and valleys, and a delightful com- bination of scenery. ,.?,.. " 0, father, what a beautiful world ! " exclaimed Sarah. " What a charming landscape ! how checkered with hills and valleys, meadows and ploughed fields, bounding flocks and singing birds ! One might almost mistake it for Eden. How sweet the odor ! how fragrant the breezes ! One cannot in- hale enough of such air," she added, inflating her lungs with the ambrosial zephyrs that played around them. "It is beautiful, daughter, beautiful, — 0, how beautiful! Look yonder," pointing in the distance ; "see that farm-yard filled with kine ! How eager their, ftisking young for the morn. ^ repast ! 0, how superior nature's own condiments to those of our preposterous cookory ! " " And how superior the drink of the mountain-brook, leap- ing and sparkling as it flows, to the fermented or distilled poison which so many imbibe to their ruin ! " added Sarah, casting a tender and respectful look at her father. The tears came to his eyes, and he said, sincerely, no doubt, " Sarah, you think me an incorrigible wine-drinker, and I think so, too. I would give all we are worth, and be as poor as yonder milk- maid, had I never tasted a drop. I nevf r had a heart to confess this before ; but I have felt it, — felt it, how much ! I cannot give it up now. It is too late. I have not the firmness to resist a habit which has become second nature. I am perfectly wretched without my daily MORE WORK FOR THE MAINE LAW. 817 wine. But, if I had a thousand tongues, and each tongae were as eloquent as Demosthenes or Cicero, I could not with them all express the sense I feel within" — laying his hand on his heart — "of the importance to young men of never tastmg a drop. ^j^^^ 'if,->»...i6vA..,' ^^^ lj>k.i..itp..>ii^it^ .\it>JiiiJ&>^iJ^ "How, then, could you say so much, dearest father, against the temperance pledge? " . ^ _ ..-j, ._:,,..._ [ h. ;, ,. ,,. " Because I hate caat, — I ahhor fanaticism, of which it seems to me the offshoot. I am speaking of avoiding wine from the beginning, as an impulse of nf(ture, and not of religious excitement. Much as I abhor drinking, I had rather die t. drunkard than be a fanatic." , ■ , - , , . " Dear father, you certainly err in this." " Can't help it, — must obey ray destiny. And yet, had it been my destiny to be one of those plough-boys who never taste strong drink, it would be better than as I am. Would you not like to be one of those milk-maids who follow the calves to gather the gleanings 7 " " Alas, father, they are insensible to the means of happi- ness within their reach ! Perhaps they have some evil habit which they have not the firmness to correct." "It is true, Sarah; all men are of the same stuff. Evil gains residence in us easier than it is ejected. The moi^ com- mon means of happiness are least understood and least enjoyed. Familiar objects pall upon the mind, and prnrluce indifference. The shepherd, who contemplates daily the towering magnifi- cence of Mont Blanc, heeds not a sight which we go thou- sands of miles to behold. Our transient glance at this beau- tiful scene affords us a pleasure which these milk-maids can- not feel. Who knows how much the blindness of Homer and Milton may have enlivened their descriptions of light, color, and visible scenery 7 These objects, no longer able to 27* ?> 818 maplbion; OB, satiate and &tigae the eye, lived in their minds as a sweet yision of the past, in bright contrast to their present dark- ness, to heighten and inflame the sense of their beauty. Who bat a blind man could \rrite Milton's description of Satan's journey through Chaos and Ancient Night, towards the nearest coast to light? Or who but a blind man could have conceived of morning as rosy veiled, rising from the beds of* Tithoiiurs, and spreading over all the earth 1 Passages like these indicate a mind in which the impressions of nature had acquired the charm-of a delicious recollection." "• ' " Did not Milton borrow from Homer 7 How else should the coincidence arise of his morn advancing with rosy steps in the eastern clime, and sowing the earth with orient pearU" "It is true, the scintillations of all genius and learning blend their effulgence in Milton's muse ; and yet he is as art- less as nature, and as simple as a child. Herein is the tri- umph of his genius. That, in his circumstances, he should have been as poetical as Homer, proves the greater poet." " Yet, the Scriptures say things even more sublime with less apparent effort. 'Let there be light, ana there was light.' — 'Morning spread upon the mount ^;:is.' — ' Riding on the wings of the wind.' " Thus beguiling the hours, they at length reached the place of their destination. Mr. Harcourt had informed his daugh- ter that they should not put up at a public house, but seek the more quiet retreat of a private family, with whom he had arranged by letter for their reception. "Here we are at last," said he, as they drove up to the door of the Marmots. .„ ^, . . \ r " What an Elysian ! — a perfect Paradise ! " exclaimed Sarah. ■.' - 1 JT'' MORS WORK FOR THB MAINE LAW. , 819 "Indeed it is," rejoined her father. "It exceeds all mj expectations. ' ' »,,i: " You have been long delayed. We have been for two or three days awaiting your arrival," said Mr. Marmot. ' ^'' " You must remember we are not on a tour of haste and business, but of health and recreation," replied Mr. Har- court. "We have been detained by the fairies among your mountains." "Enchanting beings they are," said their host; "they exceed fair Tempe, ?-4J'^ .5^> C Jf»v < Whose lawns, whose glades, ere human footsteps yet * Had traced an entrance, were the hallowed haunts Of sylvan powers immortal ; where they sate .11; ^ . , Oft in the golden age, the Nymphs and Fauns , f , . j.; ,j j».' Beneath some arbor branching o'er the flood. And leaning round, hung on the instructive lips Of hoary Pan, or o'er some open dale Danced, in light measure, to his seven-fold pipe, While Zephyr's wanton hand along their path Flung flowers of painted blossoms, fertile dews, And one perpetual spring ! ' " " Glorious ! enchanting ! " exclaimed Mr. Harcourt, en- tranced by the quotation, and still more by the taste and feel- ing with which it was spoken, and the signs of literary talent in the man to whom he was about to commit so important a trust. He began now to believe all Skampton said of the magic of this family. Sarah herself felt, in all she saw and heard, the charm of beauty, love, and poetry Indeed; the m 820 'fe?:3? MAPLBTON; OB, ■■"ifYr^^i hou&<) and its elaborately cultivated grounds were peculiarly suited to nourish the enchanting illusion. It had been erected by an English gentleman of great wealth, who, attracted to the spot by Campbell's " Gertrude," had selected it for his home; but, finding the realities of republican life a sorry reflection of his distant dreams, he had abandoned it. The m(^t of his servants, attached to the country as better suited to their humbler condition, had remained, and were brought together in their former livery, to act as the unconscious sat- ellites and abettors of this nefarious plot. The house was a perfect nondescript, a truly poetical conception, in which all the orders of architecture were blended into one unique and harmonious result. Beautiful, grand, imposing, picturesque, both the structure itself and all its furniture and appendages were formed to call up each some grateful emotion of sense and imagination, — as a whole, producing in the mind of the beholder a mysterious feeling of harmony and splendor. , The father and daughter were delighted with the family, of which, besides the servants, Mr. and Mrs. Marmot seemed to be the sole members. Everything had the air of ease and freedom which belongs to persons of retired fortune, who have nothing in hand but to make the most of life and its enjoyments. All vied with each other to increase the happi- ness of their guests. A choice selection of books, in the room of both Sarah and her father, with elegant gilt bindings, and ingeniously suited to the. taste of each, had been carefully provided and arranged. This further proof of the elevation of the family made Harcourt insensible, for the moment, to the secret worm which had gnawed at his heart, filom the first day of Skampton's visit, leading him to exclaim, " Skampton is right, — ho is right ! Here, if anywhere, my sweet Sarah -will forget her unfortunate attachment." x,i^^^y:}^f,^-:S. 1 .1 MORE WORK FOR I HE MAINE LAW. ds^i culiarly erected icted to for his a sorry t. The r suited brought iou3 sat- 36 was a hich all que and uresque, aendages of sense d of the or. unily, of jemed to ease and me, who and its le happi- in the bindings, carefully elevation >ment, to the first kampton et Sarah Poor man ! — how little did he suspect the mischief which lurked under these fair appearances ! How little did he mis- trust that the hand of Gilfort was in all this ! How little did he anticipate that these were his last conscious hours with one in whom his existence was so bound up ! How fearful the contiguity of bliss and woe in the experience of mankind ! A careful observer might have detected something furtive and strange in the glances of Mr. and Mrs. Marmot. These did not wholly escape Sarah's notice ; though, from her father's assurances that he had been well adviseil of the great excellence of the family, she suppressed every rising suspi- cion. Her father's forgetfulness of his sorrows was but mo- mentary. In spite of himself, beneath the air of gayety which he assumed lay concealed the most agonized feelings, that he should be compelled to this clandestine treatment of Sarah, whose soul was in her words, whose heart responded to every sentiment she uttered. He took the earliest oppor- tunity to communicate freely with Mr. and Mrs. Marmot on the subject. . , ^^ < ^,;, " I wish you to understand that my daughter is everything to me," he said to them. " In intrusting her to you, I put my reason, my wealth, my life, my all, in your hands." ; :=*' We fully appreciate your feelings," said Mr. Marmot. " None can enter into them as we do," added his wife, wiping a falling tear, " since it is but a year since we buried our only daughter ; a charming creature she was, too." ^ •^"Yes, my dear wife, and do you not think our lovely Blandina was strikingly like Miss Harcourt? " said her hus- band. — •■^■•■i^^-"""^^*^' '■'" ■ ■" ■ .''^•>"vi .''-^ ■.-'>'>■'■ '■■}:>'' ■'■'3M'-i''Ms^' ■ ^^*'" Indeed, husband, the very image of her," she replied, sobbing aloud. ',' I have hardly been able to restrain my feelings since Miss Harcourt's arrival, partly of grief at our 822 mapleton; OB, loss, and partly of gratitude that another Blandina is sent in her place. 0, I shall love her with more than a mother's fondness!" • -^-^s>,t.: ■'M'li^.^, " I am happy to find hearts so fitted to give my sweet Sarah place," said Harcourt. mingling his tears with theirs. '"' " Your letters inform us that your daughter has formed an unhappy attachment," said Mr. Marmot. " Yes, and nothing but the hope of breaking it up could have compelled me to this step. Do you still feel confident of being able to intercept further communications with her deceiver?" g ,4*T^® °i08t perfect, sir, and of making her most happy in * the arrangement," they both replied. l V " In the latter, I fear, you will be mistaken. My daugh- ter will no doubt be uneasy at the delay of letters. I fear she will instantly resolve on following me ; and I have this to say, that if every other means of pacifying her &il, you must let her have her letters. Remember this charge. If she must perish, let it be by her own hands, not mine." 5 ^ ; "There is no doubt, Mr. Harcourt, that we shall be able to keep her satisfied. If we fail, we will be true to your charge," said both the husband and wife. ^ ^ ' ^ ''^'^ '. • Having settled everything, Harcourt felt that he must leave before a letter from Douglass would be expected, lefci his presence should embarrass the plot. He therefore an- nounced to Sarah that he had just received intelligence which :l made it indispensable for him '^o return without delay; but that he would be absent only a few weeks, before he would -'•^ " What! leave me here alone, father?" said Sarah, with great surprise. ^^ ^ ' Yes ; leave you, my love, for a few days only. You u f \ MORE WORK FOR THE MAINE LAW. ^28 cannot fail to amuse yourself, meantime, in this charming retreat. There are many renowned locations of Indian war- fare in this neighborhood, so graphically described by Camp- bell, the poet, which you will naturally desire to visit, and which will fill up the time to my return ; and then we will go over the ground in company. These vexatious business calls, — I cannot endure them just now ! They are like a wind- mill in Paradise ; but destiny is upon me, and I must sub- mit." " If I must do without you, my honored father, I will try to submit. He who has always watched over my happiness will preserve me still. What His providence directs, may ^ that be my choice evermore ! " Their parting was in the highest degree tender and touch- ing. Three times, after reaching the gate in front of the mansion, he returned to clasp her again in his arms, and to imprint the burning kisses of a love amounting almost to madness. And the third time he fairly bore her sylph-like form to the side of the coach, as if it were an appendage of his own person, which could not be torn away without a fatal breach upon the vital organs. At length, by a violent effort, he leaped into the coach, which instantly bounded off like lightning, leaving the heart of both father and daughter pal- pitating ' :der the rude shock upon its tenderest sympathies. . Before a week had elapsed, Sarah received a letter from Terracegreen, in the handwriting of her father, to inform her that a suit had been instituted for his estate in that quarter, under pretext of a prior title, and he had been compelled to leave the cit}' instantly to defend himself The letter went on further to state that a material witness in the case had removed to Missouri, and he saw no means of protecting his property without going in person to look him up. "And, » •i 824 ■if MAPLBTON; OB, ¥ -# M .-^ my dear Sarah," the letter went on to say, " is there no way of saving me the pain of so long a separation from you? This question has been in my mind ever since I found myself compelled to go, and I now write to suggest that you go also. I know you have long wished to explore the prairies of that distant and extraordinary country; and, in complying with this request, you will receive to yourself, I trust, — certainly impart to your doting father, — the purest delight." ^^r -i Sarah was not much discomposed by this unexpected prop- osition, because all the arts of the Marmots were put in requisition to prepare her for it. Soon after the departure of her father, they began to talk to her ^f a delightful resort tmy had at Sylvan Creek, in Missouri ; of the pleasure they found in dividing their time between that and Wyoming j of the gorgeousness of prairie scenery, and of its pleasing con- trast with their present mountain home; and a thousand enchanting storit-s were added, most ingeniously suited to win upon the fervid imagination of Miss Harcourt. Just before her father's letter came to hand, Mr. Marmot said he had received intelligence which made it necessary for him imme- diately to visit this fairy land. Much regret was expressed that his wife and Sarah should be left behind, when the latter would reply by saying how much pleasure she should feel in seeing the prairies, and how sorry she was she had not ar- ranged with her father to do so this summer, and then they might all go together. "0, my dear," Marmot would say to his wife, ''must I leave you and Miss Harcourt behind 7 Will you not both accompany me? It will be so delightful f " • ^ -.-is .^ ,^ '' Yes, Louis," said Mrs. Marmot, " write Mr. Harcourt on the subject ; and, when he learns Sarah's wishes, he will no doubt join ns, .and w:e will all go together." i' f f\ * / '■»:■. MOBB WORK FOR THE MAINE LAW. 325 • That evening they were all .oyerwhelmed with delight by reoeiving Mr. Harconrt's letter, proposing to take Sarah with him to Missouri. Accordingly, Sarah answered at once, informing her father of Mr. Marmot's call in the same direc- tion, of his estate on Sylvan Creek, and proposing that he should go on immediately and do his business, preparatory to meeting them on their arrival at that place. In due course of mail another letter was received from her father, agreeing to the arrangement, and saying that he had already left, and would meet her in a few weeks at Sylvan Creek. This letter concluded in her Other's own peculiar style of a£fection and gallantry. ? ' ,,,v ;' " I never knew how much I loved you till this separation. I realize it much more than in your school-day absences. Then I had not known you as a companion, ^ — an equal. I parted with you as a prattling girl, whose absence, though painful, I could very well endure. But now I part with you - as a companion, — yea, a superior, for so I feel you to be, as being the living embodying of one whom I always ac- counted better than myself. My only solace is the hope of soon folding you again in my fond embrace. Adieu, darling Sarah, adieu, cries the heart, the whole being, ctf your affec- tionate Father." Everything was now arranged for their immediate depart- ure. But no letter had yet been received from Douglass. Sarah protested she would not leave till one came. Soon after this determination was known, a letter came, in which Charles stated, — " I may not write so often as formerly, as I am under an unusual pressure of study. But our vows involve this item, you know, — that no writing, and 28 * k'Af 826 jmi:^m MAPLETON' OR,-**^'-'^^"^^^ no neglect of writing shall r%ise in onr minds & momentary suspicion of each other's entire devotedness. I must sub- Boribe myself youis once, yours wow, and yours forever, , ■•■:.Ui-Mv.i.i'ali^f^ff:i.; .M'>,^.:/o!t^>;i-/. ry-p^f-^'f, '-,,M "Charles." Sarah thought this singukxr, as he had always protested that writing to her gave him more time and efficiency for every other duty. But this allusion to the private under- standing between them, as Wisll as the whole aspect of the letter, left no doubt of its genuineness. She therefore de- spatched an answer at once, to inform Douglass of her contemplated tour, and where he should address her when the journey to the far West was begun. ...m.4.U.,.i5 ... -i 7/ CHAPTER XXIV. WAR TO THE KNIFE. " We can molest, harass, imprison and ruin a man who pretends to be wiser than his betters ; and the more unspotted the character is, the more necessary we think it to take such crushing methods." — Hoadlt. " Shed no blood, if it can be avoided ; but, if this heretical doctrine lasts, shed it without hesitation, in order that this abominable sect may disappear from under the heaven." — Henry VIII. "The clock strikes twelve. 0, sleep! whither art thou flown ? How my nerves twinge, — they dance ! Pains have their gambols in this body of mine. Be still, ye imps of darkness ! Three nights without sleep ! 0, Ood ! I am consumed by my zeal for truth and justice. Heavens ! what a gig my pains keep up ! Now in my head, now in my heart, now all over. They throb, they jump, they dart, like light- r \ 'M' MORS WORE FOR THE MAINS LAW. 827 ning! 0, mad — mad — mad! I shall go stark mad ! The disorders of this ungoverned and ungovernable age allow me no rest. The care of ancient right against modern wrong devolves upon me. I must resist innovation ; I "must exorcise these restless spirits. Would that I had crushed this Blud- geon viper in the egg, as I did Douglass ! But now he is grown, and it costs me all this. 0, pain, pain ! how I ache!" •• "■ ''' ~ - -'-"'• ■■ ' ■ • ' ■- ; i . ■' .-• ■' -■■ *• -^' Thus soliloquized Skampton at his hotel, within the limits of a metropolitan church, before which he was, the next day, to arraign Bludgeon and Bludgeonism for adjudication. He rang for Sambo, but got no answer. He again I'^ngr ftnd Sambo entered, in dishabille. *' '^' " Sambo, why do you not answer my call at once? Will you leave me to die alone?" "Sambo powerful sleepy, — sleep like 'possum," said the negro, submissively. " Would to God I had your faculty, you numskull ! " ^'What'Umassa have?" " Here, sleepy-head! take this vial and go to the apothecary and get an ounce of laudanum." "What for does massa want lodlum?" said the servant, scratching his head with perplexity, lest his master might have a design upon his own life. " What is that to you, saucy fellow ? Go, and do as I tell you." Sambo scratched his head in confusion. At thai instant the door-bell rang violently, and the ser- vant hastened to the door, where he met Saphead, who was breathing heavily, like one out of bre«,th from running. " Slave, does his honor, Mr. Skampton, lodge here? " said \:&aphead. r>>:;--;f"v'^»-? '.r/-'-'^..'..^ ' ^' ■-'"■v ". ^. *7,.:^y./,:'''-i:.; ,;;•, "■. \ " Him have tooth-ache^ massa; him tek lodlum." 828 ^^m m' MAPLBTONJ OB, *' ''J'f^^5^ '■' " I did n't ask haw he was, fool ! but whether he is here." "^'g-^' blii^i^'-^'^^-'j'--ii ''..v^- -*■ '*^/ii^;^>^i!^v'^;%-t^-;:J'4*i!dil».i''<;^nM.^;-'- I have said that Saphettd was a puff of Sliampton, and this was one of the occasions in which he had blown the windy nothing over the breadth of the land. He had sent him to manufacture public sentiment against Bludgeon, temperance innovations, and the Maine Law. In his mission Saphead thought himself triumphantly successful, because all the anti- temperance feeling naturally centered in him, like feculent humors in an ulcer ; and he made the common mistake of supposing that it included the great body of society. With all Saphead' s ungrammatical and ridiculous blunders, still his head contained enough to throw around him a blaze of glory in a fifteen minutes' speech, especially if he occupied them in figures, and parables, and quaint sayings, to make people laugh. But, like many others, he did not know that his strength lay in saying little; and, hence, if time was allowed him, he was sure to destroy the effect of his eloquence by saying too much. In the tour which he had just made, he had addressed public bodies who could allow him only about fifteen minutes ; and, so much time on one topic, — Bludgeon- ism in its various connections, — and, of course, repeating the same, over and over again, from day to day, had produced a powerful sensation. The object was to prepare the de- nomination for ecclesiastical proscription against the great movement-maker and all his innovations. Skampton and his party had tried the law and failed, and now their only asylum was the church. They managed their cause ingeniously. They did not appear before the public under the bald aspect of opposing the temperance reform, but of staying the plague of doctrinal and practical innovation upon their venerable church with which this reform had allied itself No one can 28* '^' ,v 880 w J-'. ■ '.^ • ? MAPLBTON ; OR, fi '^t - > »? appreciate the strength of denominational prejudice. It is an unshorn Samson with the gates of Gaza on his shoulders; and thousands of temperance men were borne away by it, to take a stand against a cause they loved, by being made to believe that it was innovating upon their cherished religious opinions and ecclesiastical usages. South of Mason and Dixon's line, also, Saphead managed to array on his side the whole strength of the present exacerbated pro-slavery feeling. He made the people there believe that, as soon as this giant innovation had emptied the contents of the groggeries into the gutter, it would continue its desolating march over all the sunny South, breaking every chain, putting knives into the hands of the slaves for the throats of their masters, and deluging the land in blood. The fears of minds little accus- tomed to reason are easily excited against everything new in legislation, in ecclesiastical usage, and in religious opinion; and hence Saphead' s popgun was quite as effective as verita- ble powder and lead. He could make a noise, and that was all that was needed. That was really more conclusive with the mass of mind than well-conducted trains of reasoning. '' Hark ! " cried Skampton, after a moment's pause; " do I not hear voices?" " Yes," said Saphead ; " there are persons in the hall." '^ It must be Tr^^admill, then ; for he, too, was to have met me here last evening." , , Sambo now ushered in Dr. Treadmill. , " My dear Treadmill, I am happy to see you, though late." " Late ! who could be early, such a night as this? What ! you here too, my good friend Saphead? " < f 'V^ ■ >i ,> '' Yes, I here, doctor, and from the midst of this terrible storm, too. Not all Jove's thunder could defeat my engage- ment with his honor. There 's too much at stake." M,-GMm \'\ --#*• MORE WORK FOR THE MAINE LAW. 881 ''Too mucli at stake," repeated Skampton, anxiously. " Well, Treadmill, what 's the news 1 Have you followed up the track of Bludgeon?" '<„ s» n;t t^ *«<;'; jSn»*',»v/j.%«'iwV';».r " Yes, and good news, too ! " -m:,5' n ,; tm; ;i *->»<, jEir;;.!.' " Did you see Mr. Durable?" >;:>?' i./'>>i^v . .'Si''-*, ^',^. " Yes, your honor, and he says he has been thrown out of business, and kept out, too, by this braying ass; and he '11 tell a story a mile long to our church against him." "a,. "Good! glorious! how many witnesses besides shall we have?" -"." ''^ ''<'*t'':^ -i'. iV^. ci.- v ;■.:■']. .,,..ii ..,--i."-x -*■ ^ ■ '-^i ■ I "About five hundred, I think." • ; - ♦ > *' Only five hundred ! I hoped it would be a thousand." "But they '11 make up in mettle what* they lack in num- bers. I have one hundred rum-selling deacons, in whom rum, religion and the deaconship, unite in a three-fold oord, that cannot be easily broken." .. = ,!...- " Well, have you seen Judge Gwimble, Governor Ground- sell, Hon. Mr. and Mrs. Guboine, Esquire Tornant, President Fooltop, and all the divines and civilians of whom I spoke to you?" " Yes, all ; and, to a man, they say the law is unconstitu- tional; that it is abridging a man's natural freedom not to allow him to get drunk, and a violation of the first sentences in that great charter of our national rights, the Declaration of Independence, which says that ' all men were born free and equal.' And.they ask, confidently, ' What freedom there is to a man who cannot drink, when, whcce, and as much as he pleases ? ' You can rely upon their vo-ice, their vote, and their vouchers, in your venerable judicature." ' ■ * " Excellent ! my heart overflows with gratitude. I shall sleep now. Sambo, get my bed in readiness, my good fellow ; my pains are quiet without laudanum. I have had a sufibr- # i.->» trafBc which has entailed more woes upon mankind than all the wars which have desolated the earth! The throes of ages have at length given birth to what we call freedom in our own country, — a freedom which, alas ! still holds three millions of men as chattels, to be bought and sold in the sham- bles ! Opinion struggled through two hundred generations, in the midst of imprisonment, confiscation, fire and fagot, to reach its present partial emancipation, and to enjoy the sorry satisfaction of being punished with nothing worse than the loss of place, the blight of character, and the bark of those who cannot bite ! Nothing but chains and slavery, to keep back the march of mind, is gained by this over-action in gov- ernment. An honest, high-minded and vigorous judiciary, to restrain the suicidal passion? is the great desideratum. This, backed up by a legislation that does not legalize wrong, — a preventive legislation against the causes of crime, and against sacrificing right to interest, — will gain all the great purposes of society. The rest must be left to the innate energy of man. He will work out for himself a better des- tiny than these perpetual fingerers and manipulators of soci- ety will work out for him. All arbitrary measures fetter the expansion of enterprise, and coerce things into unnatural channels. Except as directed against the savage passions and the crime-producing occupations and agencies, they subtract from the world's prosperity. But, if excess of government is an evil, what shall we say of over-action in private influence and responsibility ? The physical coercion of law the individual has to supply by raising his personal influence to a commanding position. The one acts through a posse comitatus, and the other by chi- canery and contrivance. " Egotism," says Coleridge, " con- 884 MAPLBTON; OB, I i sists not in speaking of our concerns with hearty good- will, but rather in requiring that the feelings, desires and opinions of others, should be brought into strict conformity to our own. Thus the man of seventy who scofis at the innocent ambition of- the boy, or the elderly lady who speaks with contempt of love tales, are egotists." This was the vice of Skampton. He had one of those consciences which feels the pinch of everybody's sins more than his own, and especially those sins which he deemed most prejudicial to his own interests and predilections. Whatever influences sprang up and prevailed without his sanction, he never failed to regard with distrust ; and how much more so, when his own investments and incomes were implicated ! He knew, he felt, that he and his conservative clique were by common consent the umpire in settling denominational questions ; and he took advantage of his position in this respect to coerce the body, much against the will of a numerical majority, into prescriptive measures in reference to Bludgeon and the temperance movement. The public mind in his church was drilled to the feeling that what- ever Skampton and his party, as reflected from Riverton Sem- inary, decreed, must of course be executed. But Bludgeon had a way of his own. He cared not for the fevor of Skampton, or any of his emissaries. A certain impulse from within was the guide and measure of his con- duct. The difference of temperament and training in the tv^o men was too strong a tendency to schism for any denom- inational platform to restrain. Bludgeon was not only an extreme temperance agitator, but he went for reform in every- thing, — in opinion, in church polity, in all the interests of human life. He believed that nothing had yet been done or spoken so well but it might be bettered. Bludgeon drew after him the masses ; but Skampton the learning, the press, MORE WORK FOB THE MAINE LAW. 835 the aristocraoj of wealth, and all the best influences in the sect, — that is, best in the sense of the world, but not in fact, — '■ for the masses are always nearer right than the aristoc- racy. Reforms begin with them, and reach the dignitaries only when they can keep their places no longer without adopting them. For some years this natural enemy of Skampton gave him no concern. He could not suppose that the Mapleton rowdy would come to much, any way. " His brief day will soon be over, when people will become sick of him," he was accustomed to say, when Bludgeon's doings were spoken of in his presence. But, so far otherwise was the fact, that Bludgeon went on increasing, till all the world "wondered after him," and the influe'nce of Skampton and his conservatists was becoming to him like the green withes to Samson. The conservative party, with its leader, felt itself constrained, therefore, to lay heavy hands on the great movement-maker. " But how shall I proceed 7 " was a question which long agitated Skampton's mind. He finally satisfied himself that his first step was to destroy Bludgeon's character, and to have him proscribed as a liar and slanderer. Nor did he lack materials for such a work. No; few men exposed weaker points than Bludgeon did to his enemies. He was by no means careful Jh his sayings and doings. Skampton, there- fore, prepared his charges ard specifications to bring before the judicial tribunal of his denomination. To this end he sent Saphead to manufacture public sentiment against the common enemy, and Treadmill to drill to service the persons who were to constitute his court and his witnesses. Skamp- ton was not a hasty man in his movements. He always took time to do well whatever he did at all. And in this case he had been for years occupied in bringing together the material HiPiiiP 886 maplbion; OB »> and the force for a fatal assault upon the great movement- maker. The arbiters of Bludgeon's fate y^ere finally assem- bled. The morning dawned beautifully after a night of Btorm, and four hours' sleep had restored Skampton's feel- ings to a tone of elasticity. It was to him "the sun of Austerlitz." When he appeared in assembly, however, his countenance was sallow, his eyes sunken, his brow cloudy, and he had the aspect of one who was consuming by inward fire. . ' . ■ , '■ ^ ■ : ,, . , In tflking the names of the tribunal, it was suggested by one of the scribes whether their honorable titles should be ap- pended ; whereupon, it was settled, by vote, that each one should have the benefit of all his titles, that their decision might have the greater weight. This circumstance led to an amusing incident, which, though trifling in itself, must not pass unnoticed. In taking the names, a farmer-looking man gave his name as Harry Straight, V.D.M.* "What did you say, sir?" said the chairman, with some surprise. " My name is Harry Straight, V.D.M.," replied the man. " The chair would ask the member what he means by Y.D.M., Avhere he got the title, and what object he has in giving it on this floor ? " "The meaning of V.D.M.?" said Mi* Straight; "I thought all the world under8tooeaning with them Minister of the Word of God. MORE WORE FOR THE MAiiNE LAW. 837 body. I think his conduct merits expulsion, and I therefore move that he be expelled, ^v ,*- ; . ;• t 5^% i) A ' \ f'^.y MORE WORE FOR THE MAINE LAW. 843 •j: ). '' -. CHAPTER XXV. TO THE WESTWARD, HO ! — THE MISTAKE DISCOVERED. * '* Westward the star of empire takes its way, ♦ • • » • # • * ♦ * • * • • • * ■■■":--',,'■..'■' Time's noblest offepring is the last." Bbbkkly. -^ . ' * . - ■ * "I 've wandered east, I 've wandered west, I 've borne a weary lot : ■' But in my wanderings, far or near. Ye never were forgot." William Mothebwell. The growth of party may be traced to three causes: individual peculiarities, the nature of the times, and persecu- tion. The first is the seed, the second the soil, and the third the husbandman. Bludgeon's intense individuality and iron will were, of themselves, a suflScient partisan nucleus. A portion of society were as sure to follow such a mind as flocks of wild geese their noisy leader. Temperance times further in- flamed the schismatic tendency. The excited public mind was feeling its way towards new light on the subject of using and legislating in reference to intoxicating drinks, and was easily led into ways devious and strange. A richer soil could not have received the falling seed of Bludgeonism ; it yielded a thousand-fold. Still, the Skampton persecution did most of all to ripen and perfect the schismatic fruit ; and when it was ripe ecclesi- astical excision shook the tree, and scattered the se6d all abroad, to bring forth its kind without stint or measure. .jiiiia*,. S44 i A^ :' MAPLETON ; OR, h This act relieved the movement of its last restraint, and let it loose upon society, to work out its own destiny in its own way. Till then. Bludgeon and his followers had respected their denominational platform, and could not adventure upon measures which they esteemed decidedly derogatory to it. JBut now he stood by himself, the " world all before him, and Providence his guide." His party was, henceforth, his church, and his own wild impulses his creed and his ritual. The temperance movement was his religion, his ethics, his politics, his jurisprudence, his business, and the sum of his being. ' Thus, as usual, this act of ecclesiastical excision im- measurably increased the evil which it was designed to cure. It gave Bludgeon a hold upon the public sympathies far greater than ever, and made him a much more formidable antagonist. The Skampton conservative party could have done nothing so much to his advantage, and so destructive to their own cause. It turned over to him a numerical majority even of their own church. Skampton' s purse still retained with him Diddington College and Riverton Seminary, though, in point of fact, the heart and sympathies of both these institu- tions were with Bludgeon. Indeed, there was no soul on the Skampton side, for it had all evaporated, or gone over to the other party. The one had set up a golden idol for its divinity, while the other was full of the warm blood and gushing sympathies of actual life. While the cause of temperance gained by persecution, Bludgeon was unhappily precipitated to still greater extremes. From the injuries inflicted upon health and morals by alcohol, he proceeded to those of gluttony and excess of every knd, which he began now to represent as equally degrading and demoralizing with intemperate drinking. Not content with !% MOBE WORK FOR THB MAINS LAW. 845 the simple question of the quantity whioh it is safe for us to eat, he proceeded to that of the quality^ affirming that man is a herbivorous animal, — that animal food is, in all eases and in any quantity, injurious to his health, corrupting to his moral feelings, and the great means of reducing his age from that of the antediluvian patriarchs to the present narrow span of three-score years and ten. It involves cruelty to animals, which are annually knocked in the head, or barbarously butchered, by millions, in order to pamper in us an unnatural and preposterous appetite, and degrades us to the rank of cats, dogs, wolves, and tigers. His descriptions of a piece of a hog or an ox, all reeking with blood and oil, would make an audience loathe it as food, and not a few would go away resolved never to taste it again. The previous process of butchering and flaying, in all its disgusting details, of animals innocent, beautiful, playful, and verging towards human in- telligence, was a fruitful theme for Bludgeon's genius, and a means of touching the sympathies of an audience almost equal to the murder of the innocents of Bethlehem, or the massacre of St. Bartholomew's Eve. Bludgeon carried his vicM'S to such an extreme as to lose the sympathy of the wise and discreet among his temperance friends. They could not believe that his system of dietetics would realize the length of days of which he was so sanguine. True, he fenced his statements round with various modifica- tions. .He did not say that such a length of days would be realized in the first generation ; but only that, if the race would rigidly follow up his system for a century or two, the causes of disease and death would gradually disappear, and the time might come when its life would be as enduring as in its earlier generations. These extravagances of the man and his party came to be regarded by the public as identical with 846 MAPLETON; OR, tho temperance cause, to the no small damage of its interests, It was thought hj many to be unscriptural and dangerous, also, because these ultraists deemed it necessary to their suc- cess to deny the use of wine in the Lord's Supper. Many of their churches actually adopted water sweetened with molasses in the administration of that ordinance. This was a just cause of offence to every right-minded man in the country. The consequence was, that Bludgeon found himself in danger of being swept away by the reaction of his extreme views, to prevent which he determined upon emigrating, with 80 many as would go with him, to a land where he might carry out, unmolested and unopposed, his peculiar system of dietetics. Oregon was fixed upon as the theatre of' the great experiment, which he proposed to reach by the overland route. tJpon this enterprise he now turned all his force. He travelled from place to place like a flaming meteor, to obtain enlistments for his colonial plan of dietetics and long life. In a short time his army swelled to a nun:.erous host, who dis- posed of their estates, and prepared to take up their line of march. Still, he continued his lecturing, to increase the num- ber. His paintings of man, in the present forms of society, with habits of eating, drinking, dressing and sleeping, to re- duce his life to little more than that of a goose, were graphic and powerful. He made the people feel that death was in their habits, and life only in an escape with him to Oregon. As a place of rendezvous for his gathering forces he ap- pointed one of the prairies beyond the Mississippi, to which point they were tending from all quarters. The dietetic faith of all was absolute, — their hopes glowing. Old men and maidens, young men and children, rich and poor, black and white, all grades and varieties of human society, having dis- posed of th.ir effects to defray the expenses of their journey. MORE WORK FOR THE MAINE LAW. 847 were now on their way, in groups of tens, fifties, and hun- dreds. Here a company of maiden ladies, — toothless, totter- ing, shrivelled and blighted, by the vuin endeavor after that boon dearest to all hearts, the privilege of loving and of being loved, — dragged their weary limbs along, with a fanutical cer- tainty of renewing their youth in the Eden of their destina- tion. Here virgin beauty was linked with wrinkled deformity ; vigorous manhood with tottering age ; idiotic imbecility with gifted intellect ; the cultivdted with the uncultivated ; all fused like metals into one mass by the dominant fanaticism. Facts like these are eminently significant. They show how eagerly the heart of man looks and longs for a portion bettor than earth has to afford. It is not surprising that Utopian ideas of another location, or. of the reorganization of society, should beget in multitudes the deisire of change. They forget that the evil is within, and must defeat the purpose of change until it is eradicated. None but the great Nazaiene ev' r understood where to begin the work of human improvement. " Ye must be born again " is a truth which lays the axe at the root of the tree, and provides to eradicate from the heart those passions which generate our woes, and defeat all the ends of outward reformation. Leaving Bludgeon and his party to pursue their fanatical journey, we will now turn our attention to Mr. Harcourt. When that gentleman left Wyoming, he purposed to be absent but a few weeki, that he might watch the eiFect of his plot upon the mind of his daughter. He hoped, against hope, that her feelings would undergo a change, and the magic influence of the Marmots would set her heart free from its entanglements to a drunkard's son. He felt in his sober moments that there was no reason to expect it ; but still the illusion was too sweet to be exchanged for reality. There # v , 348 '^ MAPIiBTONj OB, were people who could do in this way what he could not ; and, from the character given the Marmots, on such excellent authority, he believed they were of the number, and this was his only light on the subject. He had enjoined Sarah to write him daily, resolved, if her letters indicated nc change, to abandon his scheme, be the consequences what they might. But no letter came. ' He watched the post-office with nervous anxiety, day by day, during which time suspense produced in his excited imagination its usual brood of dark forebodings and tormenting fears. If anything should happen to his darling child, he felt that he never could forgive him- self the step he had taken. Indeed, he was uneasy at the deceit which he had already practised upon one so frank, so confiding, so loving and so loved. " Sarah. Sarah, sweet Sarah ! my darling, my life ! I am undone without you ! " he would often say to himself " ! should I be deceived in the persons to whom I have intrusted her, — no, no ! it is impossible ! — but, should I be deceived, what a monster of a father will she have reason to think me ! Well, though I deceive, I love her ; yes, — too tenderly to be happy in her absence. My head reels, my reason totters ! I shall go mad, mad, if the least of my fears were realized ! " After thus being literally on embers for two weeks, a let- ter came, apologizing for her delay, by ascribing it to the extreme happiness of her new situation. And the letter sig- nificantly adds, " I find myself undergoing a great change on other subjects, which have caused you, dear father, much anxiety. I have not heard from C. D. since I came to this place ; and am becoming more and more careless wiiether I ever hear again." This letter, especially the last sentence, more than com- pensAted for his long (suspense. And h^e wAited another md MORE WORK FOR THE MAINE LAW.^ UQ M' KDOther week, with more calmness than before, but still not without dark surmises, which lingered like spectres before the vision of his mind, yet fearing to visit his daughter, lest it should prejudice the object of his taking her to Wyoming. At length, another letter came, full of affection for him, and deprecating the uneasiness she had occasioned him by her rash purpose of connecting herself with a family whose vices rendered them so unfit for the society of the pure and the good. " But, thank Heaven ! I have learned my mistake in season to escape the ruin awaiting me. Dear father," it is warily added, '' I fear the effect of former associations, and, much as I wish to see you, it is perhaps advisable that you should delay your visit a few weeks." This letter, confirmed by the private correspondence of Mr. Marmot, gave him inex- pressible pleasure; and he acted upon the suggestion of delaying his visit. Thus the deluded man was baited by an oci>asional letter till the first of August. His mind, mean- time, was ill at ease, and his use of the bottle was more deep and dangerous. Indeed, his blood was constantly charged with the poison, to the verge of intoxication, which, no doubt, had the double effect of making him the easier dupe and of precipitating the crisis which ensued. How it is possible for men, with an earnest love of life, to be deluded into keeping their blood constantly charged with an inflammatory ingredi- ent that could not fail immeasurably to increase the chances of death, in the event of accident or diseast , is passing strange. One would suppose that an instinct of self-preservatiou ;",ould deter them from drinking, if nothing else ; and that intemper- ance would be confined to those whj have no motive or desire of life. Douglass was also as much perplexed by the interruption of letters as the tather of Sarah. But he 09uld not doubt, • 80 850 MAPLETO]?; OR, and would not resign himself to the gloomy suspicions which would ever and anon glance unbidden across the horizon of his mind. He had solemnly promised not to let the interrup- tion of letters, or anything else, shake his confidence in her ' voted attachment. But vows are easier made than kept. When week after week passed, without bringing him a line from her pen, his nights became sleepless, his days gloomy and listless, and he lost all command of himself Finally, a letter came from Sarah, bearing date, as usual, at New York. But stiu, It did not allay his fears, though, in point of fact, it approximateu ner usual strain of corre- spondence. There seemed something different in it, however, — something strange ; not so much in style uid mechanical execution, as in the spirit breathing through it. It seemed not to gush up, as usual, from the heart's purest affections, but was formal, artificial, conatrained, and, even in its affec- tionate touches, it failed to blend in with his sympathies. He felt more uneasy after receiving it than before, and abruptly left for New York, to inquire into the cause. When he arrived at Mr. Harcourt's, *he met from that gen- tleman a cool reception ; and when he inquired how Sarah was, and whether she was well, the laconic reply was, " Well, but not to be seen." " Not to be seen, Mr. Harcourt I You are not in ear- nest?" replied Douglass, perfectly confounded, 4!ad a^rdly knowing what he said. "Do you think me capable of deceiving, sir ?'' askvi Ear- court, still more coolly. • " By no means; I only meant to say aaat yopr . ^ 852 ; ( MAPLETONj OR, m walked leisurely from the house, so lately the. Tvitness of a bliss unspeakable, in the society of one so much beloved and adored, but now lost, forever lost, he feared, vhe universe seemed to him a blank. An intense summer sun flamed above ; and, instead of leaving a spot so endeared, so lovely in its memories, even in the gloom now resting upon it, he buried himself in shrubbery overhanging the majestic river, and prayed and longed there to end an agonized life. "To me, me miserable, there remains no solace but the dumb silence of this desolate spot ! Here I would die, here be buried, here resign my soul to that higher world, where rest can alone be found! Proscribed without, and killed within, what solace is left me, this side the grave ? No, no ! let me go ! let me go ! " With the vain hope of quenching these burning sensations, or provoking a fever, to absorb them, he remained all night in that thicket, stretched upon the damp earth, with feelings of desolateness and horror too poignant to be described, too vast to be conceived. All he had felt during his first days in Forestdale, at the idea of being a drunkard's son, now returned upon him with ten-fold power. Then it was imaginary ; now it was real : then it was a mere fear of ejectment from his proper social position ; now his doom was sealed. The words of Harcourt, that, knowing his father's character, he "ought not to have presumed so far with a well-bred lady," were the more tantalizing for being a reflection of the precise feelings with which his first delicate sentiments towards Sarah were associated. He thought, himself, it was presuming too far in one so unfortunately connected. And now, to have the trutK brought home to him by the party most injured by that pre- sumption, — perhaps, too, — a dreadful perhaps! — with the sanction of that dear one who had been so kind as to make MORE WORE FOR THB MAINB LAW. 858 his drunken father no barrier to her heart and her hand, — 0, those were ideas too tormenting to be endured. '•''■>-;> >' " " Why had she not crushed my tender sentiments in the bud 7 Why leave them to grow, till they had absorbed in themselves my whole being? Indulgent Father, take the drunkard's son to thyself! Earth hus no place for him. Society casts him out as a polluted thing. Wilt not thou, Lord, take me up?" But words fall short of the reality. The record of aspir- ing minds, repressed and crushed by a brutalized and degraded paternity, is known only to the Searcher of all hearts. " Go, weep as I have wept, ' * O'er a loved father's fall ; See every promised blessing swept. Youth's sweetness turned to gall ; Life's fading flowers strewed all the way That brought me up to manhood's day!" 0, ye who tarry long at the wine, think, think of your children's agony over your fall ! Think of the shame in w^ich you send them abroad into society ! After Mr. Harcourt's feelings had subsided, he began to reflect on the letter which Douglass had shown him. That it was his daughter's hand-writing he could not doubt. The sentiments also seemed much the same as if her affections were unchanged. What could he think ? — that Sarah had deceived him, or Douglass 1 He thought her incapable of either. Or was it the trick of some mischievous person ? It so, might not the same be true of his own letters from Wyoming? This idea was too horrible to be thought ol. Still, he was full of strange suspicions, and therefore started, with all haste, for Wyoming. Judge of the wretched man's 30* 854 \ f mapleton; or, feelings, Trhen, npon driving np to the house of the Marmots, in a state of maddening excitement, eager to have his fears disappointed, and his hopes realized, to find it an empty shell, with grass covering the walks, swallows brooding in the chimneys, and all the signs of utter, hopeless desolation ! He ran to the neighbors, in a delirium of suspense, to learn the &te of the family ; and all the explanation he could obtain was that, a few months previous, that house had been rented by an unknown family, who had furnished it with great ele- gance, and then, without making the acquaintance of any one in the neighborhood, had broken up, and gone to parts unknown. The fellow who boxed the furniture said that it was labelled to a southern city, — Charleston or New Orleans, — he could not remember which, though he believed the latter. Even the name by which the strange family had been known was not the same which had been given to Mr. Harcourt, — a circumstance which greatly increased his fears, and confirmed his daikest forebodings. Tlie poor man ran about for a few hours like a maniac, going again and again into the vacant room which Sarah had occupied, calling her name in tones of plaintive endearment, adding, "Gone, gone! 0, 0, forever gone! Fate, fate, cruel fate ! why did I bring her here 1 Why intrust her out of my sight? Whither, whither, has she fled? Fraud, violence, has done this ! My darling Sarah could never, of her own free will, have escaped her doting father ! No, no ! much as he deserved her hatred, she would love him still ! Sarah, Sarah, your father loves you, too, — yes, to madness he loves you, though he has treated you thus ! Forgive, 0, forgive th^ wrong ! " Thus soliloquized the distracted father, in tones that resounded through the vacant halls and rooms like those of a disturbed ghost, lost in a maze of conflicting MOBB WORE I0& ZHB MAINS LAW. 855 sensations, when a hornet, which had suspended its nest to the ceiling, disturbed by his presence, stung him severely just below the eye. The pain brought him to his recollection. He rushed out ; and, while occupied in mitigating the venom, reflection returned, and it occurred to him that the Honorable Mr. Skampton was the only one who was really responsible to him for this mysterious disappearance of his daughter. " Mr. Skampton first suggested the plan, and recommended the Marmots as in the highest degree trustworthy. He is too great and good a man to deceive me, and an explanation may be given which will satisfy me that all has been done in good faith, to insure an object dearest to my heart, — Sarah's release from her infatuation." Without a moment's rest, therefore, he set off for the resi- dence of Mr. Skampton. His anxiety of mind robbed him by the way of appetite for food, but not for drink. His pota- tions were deeper than ever, utterly disqualifying him for rational action, under the trying circumstances in which he was placed. He was even too abstracted, and too much be- side himself with strong drink, to shave, change his linen, or wash himself Upon meeting Mr. Skampton in his library, therefore, he was a sight to look upon. His locks had been suddenly bleached, through the intensity of his emotions, and his eyes were protruding and Mildly staring. Skampton stood aghast when his visitor unceremoniously rushed into the room, and could scarcely believe his own eyes, that this should bo the gentlemanly Mr. Harcourt whom he had known in his better days. " My daughter, sir ! I come to demand my daughter ! " mid Harcourt, struggling to repress his emotions, and appeal calm. m 'H;-r \\t_ 856 MAPLETON; OB, " Tour daughter ? " replied Skampton, coolly; "what of your daughter? Why do you ask me ? Am I her keeper 7 " " Yes, you are hBr keeper ! You made yourself responsi- ble for the good conduct of those to whom I committed her." " I said, Mr. Harcourt, what I honestly thought, — what I had reason to think," said Skampton, drawing down his face to more than its usual length ; " and I have no responsibility in the case, and I hope " " You are a liar ! " interrupted the nervous Harcourt, with an oath. "Did you not instigate her separation from me? Did you not pledge me your honor that she should be well treated ? Did you not laud the Marmots to the skies ? Did you not say she would be as safe with them as in her own father's house? You knave! — you hypocrite!" seizing him by the collar, with insane violence, and hurling him to and fro. - Skampton, pale with fear, said, soothingly, " My dear Mr. Harcourt, do pacify yourself! Be not too hasty in condemning an innocent man. Pray, what has happened 7 Was not your daughter well treated at the Marmots'? " " No ; they have abducted her, and you know it, you scoundrel ! They have taken her to parts unknown, and you shall answer for it ! " replied Harcourt, still clenching him, and shaking him violently. " Stay, suy, my good friend," cried Skampton, beginning to fear that his end had come, indeed. " I will not stay, you pe^ured villain ! I '11 let oflf the last drop of your life 's blood, that I will ! " said Harcourt, still more furious. " But, if you kill me, how can I find your daughter?" said Skampton, trembling in every limb, and anxious to re- lease himself from the perilous grasp of an insane man. " I release you, then, for the sake of sweeter revenge," HORB WORK J70R ftfS MAINE LAW. m said Harcourt, letting go of him. " I '11 proeeoute you at the law for conspiring against the liberty and life of an inno- cent person; and, failing in my suit, I swear, by all the powers above, I will shed the last drop of your blood ! " he added, now first bethinking that Skampton had exposed him- self to this mode of redress. He started to execute his threat. " Stay, Mr. Harcourt, for God's sake, stay! " entreated the terrified Skampton. ''I had reason to think the Mar- mots trustworthy." ' "What reason had you to think it 7 Have you known them 7 Have you personally assured yourself that they are worthy to be trusted?" inquired Harcourt, anxious still to find a clue to Sarah's hiding-place. " No, not personally. I never saw them, but I had the best possible character of them from that distinguished man, Samuel Gilfort, who assured me that they would cure your daughter of her love afl&iir." " Great God ! is Gilfort your author 7 Gilfoit the insti- gator of this plot! " exclaimed Harcourt, in despair, under- standing full well the knavery of that fellow, and his evil designs upon his daughter. "He advised it," replied Skampton, meekly. The whole now glanced before the mind of Mr. Harcourt in a twinkling, that Sarah had been decoyed from him by stratagem, and had been now three months in the power of that arch deceiver. It was too much for his shattered reason.' He reeled, staggered, and fell senseless to the floor. 858 I, MAPLBTON; OR, .* •V.!l«'-C' if,- fl-, "i- '.-•r'- '"Ji; CHAPTER XXVI. ANOTHER TRAGEDY IN MAPLBTON. ' "I looked upon the righteous man, . ' • I And all our earthly trust ; 'v * Its pleasure, vanity and pride, Seemed lighter than the dust, Compared with his eternal gain, A home above the sky ! " — Mm. SiaoxmNKT. There was an inkling of truth in the surreptitious letter of Mi*. Harcourt to Sarah, in reference to a law-suit for the recovery of the Terracegreen estate, on the pretext of a prior title. Such a suit had really been commenced, and Marldon had gone to defend the rights of his client. In doing so, ho visited Mapleton, where he became familiarly acquainted with the senior Douglass. He had no mistrust, however, that the wife of his new friend was the same who had been so cava- lierly treated in his presence, a few years previous. But Mrs. Douglass knew him well, and did all in her power to keep her husband out of his society, though to no purpose. He was now so totally broken down as to have as little power over himself as his wife had over him. The reopening of the Skampton groggery had revived his former habits, and drunk- enness had been a common thing with him. His home was a scene of terror and desolation. Still, he spent his sober hours, as usual, in looking after his farm. On a bright summer morning, he went into a distant field to watch over his hay-makiog, where he was soon joined by Marldon, with the tempting bait of a bottle of superior brandy. They sat down on the green grass in a shady place, and be- U=*S! MORE WORK FOR THE MAINE LAW. 859 gan tneir maddening potations. Adjoining the field where thej were, fifty acres of heavy timbered land had been cut long enough before to become dry as tinder. The heat waa intense; and, in his sober moments, Mr. Douglass would havo deemed it an act of madness to fire the aggregated masses of brush, leaves, twigs and logs, which were piled up on all hanud over the burdened soil. But now the idea popped into his excited brain ; and, with flaming torch in hand, he ran from one end to the other of the windy side, touching with flame the combustible mass. In a short time the whole was a sea of fire. The scene beggars description. A burning city is nothing in comparison, because nature is more exuberant than art, and all its growth is combustible ; while that of art is, to a great extent, impervious to the fire. Even the scarf- skin cr vering of the earth, produced by ages of vegetable decay, is food for flame. The exploding gases of the wood made the welkin ring, as with the small jirms of embattled legions. The mossy rind of burning logs, twigs, leaves, chips, decayed trees, piles of brush studding the ground like closely- compacted stacks of hay, and an infinite collection of materi- als dry as tow, all vied with each other to increase the gen- eral burning. Even the clouds suspended over the scene boil€d like a cal- dron, and added their reflected radiance like the arch of an oven, to give the heat accumulated force and destructive- ness. At first, the air was close, and the wind was too tardy to ruffle the fiery deluge ; but the heat was compact and condensed as in a furnace over the burning fallow, cloud, vapor, smoke, flame, alike pent, struggling, agonized, con- volved, like fiends in the lurid fires of hell. The birds flew through the burning air, chattering with fright, or, with Beared plumage, falling into the fiercer heat below. The ^4 'Ik '■'■1 i:m ■■' ■\'T 860 ,i:l W HAPUBTOM; OB, qttadrupeds, i^eltered by the brush and logs, or burro Vfed in the ground, ran in every direction, to cover themselves in the contiguous woods. But it was a vain flight ; for the wind had now set up a stiff breeze from the lake, to waft the burn- ing atmosphere into the leeward forest, which was soon seared, and prepared, many acres around, to mingle in the general conflagration. The leafy surface of the ground flamed up into the thicket of overhanging leaves and branches, now prepared to feci the dissolving touch ; insomuch that the whole vegetable growth, to the distance of more than a hun- dred feet above, becani - an ocean of flame. The scene was terribly grand, awfully sublime ! Tlie whole neighborhood was now in commotion, lest the fire should reach the premises of Farmer Bloodgood. Voices were heard in all directions, crying, " To the woods ! to the woods! Bloodgood' 8 premises ! Bloodgood's premises ! " All hands flew to the woods, and, scraping a circumvallation bare of its leaves, they awaited the raging enemy. He soon appeared, rejoicing as a strong man to run a race, spurning their puny barrier, and making his way, with fearful strides, towaids the point of dreaded attack. Bloodgood was exas- perated at the imprudence of his neighbor in kindling such a fire in so dr^a time, and swore vengeance on him, and the alcoholic demon, which, he believed, had instigated the deed. But Marldon enjoyed the fun with stoical indifference. A detachment of neighbors — men, women and children — hastened to the scene ; some with buckets of water, others with shovels, to smother the flame bv means of earth, while others still, with naked hands, fell to the work of removing fences, and depositing the rails beyond the reach of danger. All was vain. Everything seemed converted into powder, to eatch flame from falling sparks; and the concave heavens MORE WORK FOR THE MAINE LAW. 861 were like a heated furnace, to relax every muscle, to force sweat from the steaming blood, to extract the sap of wood and the greenness of leaves, and even to involve the standing grass, as well as the new-made hay, in the mighty burning ! Nothing could have saved Bloodgood but the timely fall of a shower, to quench the fiery element. It was now three o'clock of the afternoon. The neighbors had left for home, all except a few to stand sentinel against the enemy. Marldon, with his bottle and his victim, had retired to a shady retreat, to complete the work of intoxica- tion. A partial quiet was restored, with an occasional out- burst of fire, to keep the men busy, when they heard the crash of a falling tree, accompanied by cries of agony. They ran in the direction, and soon heard, from a thicket, a voice, saying, " ! ! my God ! how this body writhes in pain ! " It was Mr. Littlefield, who, ever prompt to guard his people against danger to the extent of his power, had joined his efforts with others, to arrest the fire. Fatigued by exertio*^., he had crept into a shad^ place, and fallen asleep ; when a tree burnt at the root, where it was partially decayed, fell, and would have instantly killed him, had not the underbrush broken its force. The extent of his injury could only be con- jectured by the extrenyty of his agony. " 0, my dear young friends ! " he said to George and Sam- uel Douglass, who were the first to reach him, "the day of my release is come ! Life cannot long hold out under what I endure." " Death finds you prepared, my dear pastor," said George. " I am ready, perfectly ready. I long for my rest. ! agony ! agony ! agony ! " said the sufiering man. "Sammy, my brother," said George, "will you not go and call Mr. Holliston, while we watch with Mr. Littlefield?" 31 ' V 862 mapleton; op, ,. , " iTes ; but can we do nothing to relieve you before I go, Mr. Littlefield?" replied Samuel, much affected by the spec- tacle. • ' ' -.'-■ •.:?.'.. ..-.t- -. " No ; you can do nothing, nor can Mr. Holliston ; still, it would give me pleasure to see him, and also my wife and children, before 1 die. Be so good as to call them also." Samuel went, with all speed. '^ Let me hold your head, and press gently against your side," said one of the neigubors, suiting his action to his words. " There ; now don't you feel a little easier 7 " " 0, no, no ! you are very kind, but it is all in vain. My summons has come, and I must go." It was not long before Samuel returned, accompanied by Mr. Holliston, Mrs. Littlefield, and hor three children. Mr. Hollis^on lied him, but it gave him no relief. His chest was brokew ia on one side, and there was evidently internal bleed- ing. He grew deadly pale, and felt a faintness which seemed the precursor of speedy dissolution. "Just in time, just in time, my poor Mary, to see your poor husband die ! " he said, as his wife approached him. " No, no, — it cannot be ! " exclaimed Mrs. Littlefield, sob- bing convulsively. " Yes, it must. God so orders. Have I not told you, Mary, that I should go soon? and why should you weep? Are you not willing that I should go home ? Have we not often communed of that sweet home ? Have we not talked of the bliss we should there enjoy, when our troubles are all over, and our tears are all dried?" Mrs. Littlefield, having given vent to the first impulse of woe, now reclined in silence over him, while the warm tears that fell upon his bosom touchingly bespoke the depth of her grief. Overcome by her emotions, she fell into a swoon, from MORE WORK FOR THE MAINE LAW which she was long in being recovered. Meantime, the chil- dren set up a doleful cry, saying, ' "0, papa, do not leave us ! do not leave us ! It will kill mamma ! Dear, dear papa ! will you leave «•? " while they sobbed as if they would break their hearts. "My dearest children, I will not leave you unlesp God bids me. You know how good Go*! is. He would mot bid me come to him unless he meant in some other way te '-ake care of you. Are you not willing I should go, when God calls me?" " 0, no ! no ! no ! dear, dear papa ! what will becom* of us when you are dead?" exclaimed the little ones, witb a fresh outburst of agony. " God will take care of you, my precious children," said the dying father, with emotions too big for utterance, his lips quivering, his tears gushing up from their deepest fountains ; and, for a moment, he seemed unmanned. Indeed, the wholes company felt the scene to be too affecting for them to endure. They would have carried him home ; but they saw that he was too far gone to admit of it. Samuel Douglaas did make an effort to raise him gently in his arras, to try the effect; but it gave him so mu;'h pain that he was compelled to desist. None showed such a tender, active interest for the dying pastor, and his sufferings, as this young man. Well he might ; for he had become hopefully pious through his instru- mentality, and an orria,ment of the church o^er which he presided. Recovered, at length, from her swoon, Mrs. Littlefield opened her eyes, and turned them upon her husband, with a look of sweet submission, by which he saw that her agony had passed, and her faith had subdued her misgivings. « " Now, my Mary," he said, wiping his own eyes dry, s> '■ > **-?!V m 864 , MAPLEION; OR, "you are yourself again. How much we have prayed that we mry honor God in our death ! Can we doubt that he will hear us 7 Come to my side, my adored wife ! Let me leave with you my dying advice." She took her seat by him, saying, " Speak, my precious husband ! All you wish shall be done." " In reference to yourself, Mary, my highest wish is, that you maintain your freedom in Christ. Be not again entan- gled in the yoke of bondage ! Remember your husband's experience in this respect ; which — blessed be God ! — is my preparation for this season of trial. I know that my Redeemer liveth ! I know that if this earthly house of mj tabernacle were dissolved, I have a building of God, eternal in the heavens ! The fear of death cannot bring me into bondage ! " " My dear husband," she said, gently kissing his forehead, " ha^e you all the confidence, at this dreadful moment, that you anticipated 7 Are you unmoved by these trying circum- stances of your death ? " "Yes, unmoved. The moment consciousness returned, after receiving my death-wound, I found my heart exulting in God. From that time, 0, how near Jesus seems ! I repose in his arms ! Never before had I £uch a sense of his presence ! Though I walk through the valley of the shadow of death, I will fear no evil ! I have neither doubt nor mis- giving ! Heaven is before me ! Its portals are open ! The beams of glory, shining through, fall direct on my soul ! There is society, there is love, there is friendship ; there ' the saints of all ages in harmony meet.' I feel already its peace and its joy ! Be this your consolation : you have shared my bosom's history. You know what glory God poured upon me twelve years ago, — glory not to be expressed or compre- hended! You know our poverty; what disappointments m- MOBS WOBK FOR THE MAINE LAW. 865 came over our worldly prospects, and what trials we have endured ! But, amid all, n. sweet stream of heavenly conso- lation has flowed into my heart. Sorrow was a necessary ballast to a bark so wafted by heavenly gales. I have no words of complaint, but all of gratitude, all of praise ! The fulness of love is more than an offset for all possible suffering. You, my dear wife, have shared my sufferings and my joys. My dying prayer and request is, that yo'i maintain the begin- ning of your confidence steadfast unto the end. Do your utmost, also, to trans'uit tie same inheritance to our children, — yea, to all mankind. Then I know we shall soon meet again." After this long speech, he became convulsed, his mind wandered, and, for a few moments, the struggle seemed to be over with him forever. But he revived, and began to exclaim, in feeble accents, " Lcve ! — infinite love ! — 0, what a theme to occupy our eternity ! Heaven opens ! I stand within its confines ! Its bliss floods my soul ! Its beams irradiate the dark valley ! Blessed Jesus ! come ! come ! 0, come quickly, and take me to thyself! " None present were so placid as himself and the living image of his piety, — his wife. They both seemed literally to stand in the open gate of glory. Her piety was but the engrafting of his own. She had caught the serene life of his faith, and quiet communion with God. "If you have a word more, speak," said Mr. Holliston, with his finger on his pulse ; "for you have but a moment." Mrs. Littlefield now calmly seated herself under his head and shoulders, putting her arms under his, and clasping his chest, as if anxious that he should die in her arms. The 31* ''':-i'-i :5^h m ■■S*J 866 -frf^'^i maplbton; or, duldren kneeled on either side of their dying father. He seem^ to want them near his person. « .5; < *:,. "Yes; a word more to jou, my tender babes," he said, alluding to Mr. HoUiston's remark. " James, my darling boy, you are the oldest, and I expect you to be a great com- fort to your mother. Be obedient to her in all things. Exert yourself to keep our little family together on the home- stead. Assist your mother in the family devotions. Watch over your brother and sweet little sister;" the tears again trembling in his eye, at the mention of his little daughter, the youngest. " I will, dear papa ! " sobbed James. Then, turning to William, the youngest son, — a fine, ruddy boy, — he said, taking him affectionately in his arms, " William, you must be kind to your mother." " 0, dear, dear papa ! " cried the child, " I want to die with you ! I must die with you ! I must go to heaven when you do, my dear, dear papa ! " " My precious son," said the dying man, greatly moved by this outburst of childish feeling, "you have God for your father, and you must be willing to live for his sake. You must read your Bible, and love your blessed Saviour ; and then you will soon be with papa in heaven." " I want to die 7iow, I must die now ! I can't live any longer, when papa is gone ! " sobbed the child, almost frantic with grief. " Deal", dear William ! you must do as God wills, not as you will. He wills to have you liye, to do good, I hope. Never forget what your dying papa said to you, that you must be good and love God." He then kissed him affection- ately, and bade him adieu. Then followed the embrace of little Mary, the most touch- MOBE WORE FOB THE MAINE LAW. W ing scene of all. He folded her in his arms, pressed her to his heart, and said, lifting bid sightless e^es towards heaven, ** God of love, this child I leave in thy keeping. 0, preserve her from the destroyer! " , .. *:,.-„ , . , ir»^./v,: .vi u From kissing his daughter, he turned to leave this pledge of love on the lips of his wife, when, with that kiss, he breathed out his life, and his spirit was with God. ; , Mrs. Douglass, who had by this time reached the scene of conflict aLl of triumph, insisted that the body should be taken to her house for the night, as 'the sun was already near set- ting, and Mrs. Littlefield's residence was more distant. This invitation was accepted, and the dead man, with his living family, reached the house just before dark. 0, what a scene ! What a day of alcoholic doings ! The monster had already done enough, one would suppose, in the death of the pastor and in the destructive conflagration, to satisfy his rapacious demands of blood and ruin. W hat Moloch ever asked more 1 Alas ! no ; the work had just begun. Calamities do not come alone, especially those which arise from so prolific a cause. There is no end, no limit, to the weed which this demon of darkness pours out upon society. Were they less, we might relax our demands for an instant discharge of his maddening poisons into the teeming gutters. The dead body of the pastor had scarcely been decently composed to rest in the p?irlor, before Mrs. Douglass, having occasion to step to the door, was met by her husband, with an iron wood lever in his hands. He came stalking towards her, drawn up seemingly a foot above his ordinary height, scarcely touching the ground in his wild consciousness of power, with the fire and fury of alcoholic madness flaming in his eye ; and, before she could get out of his way, he struck at her head a furious blow, which just grazed her, tearing out itwi^is il m m ?^s 'M,^M '''Sn^ i| & K^ iK' ,»'**'^™*f'T***«'- 868 ''■■ ■A'l MAPLBTONJ O-R^^%<'p'i0^ a large tuft of hair and cleaving off a portioQ of the scalp irith it, so that the blood trickled down on her shoulder. Samuel, hearing her scream, ran to the door, and, unfortu- nately, was so occupied with his mother's bleeding head, that he seemed not for the moment conscious of the dangerous weapon in his father's hands, and hence received from it a furious blow on the head, which felled him to the earth, dead on the spot. The laboring men and neighbors who were in the house now rushed out, when they, too, were met by the blows of the insane Douglass, which, however, they warded off, and, after a powerful struggle, succeeded in overcoming and confining him in a strait-jacket, which was always kept in readiness for the purpose. Such a scene as eripued no pen can describe The yells of the alcoholic raaniac reechoed from the contiguous forest, and resounded afir over the now placid surface of the lake. The screams of a sorrow- ing family over a dead son and brother, the yet unstifled sobs of the Littlefields around another victim, now heightened by this new calamity, the running and tumult of neighbors, and the bleeding but still noble form of Mrs. Douglass, who stood sublimely firm and placid under a sorrow already a hundred times endured in anticipation, — these, these were the dark lines of a picture of which rum's doings in all our large cities are but a counterpart. This good woman felt that she had done all to protect her family that could be done, under ^he present laws of her state. She had watched over her husband ; she had done what she could to keep him from the licensed hells ; her life had been an incessant vigil against the gins and traps which legislation had strewn in her path ; she had entreated and besought the representatives of law not to deal out the poison to her husband she had guarded him against those who make a business of holding the cup MORS WORK FOR lEB MAINS LAW. 369 / I to their neighbors' lips ; she had watched ovor her famil/, bj night and day; she had commended them to God in her prayers ; and now that one had fallen, and but one, after so many years of deadly peril, seemed to her an event to pro- voke gratitude with her grief, under the circumstances. There was a moral sublimity in the virtues which she now evinced. She soothed her mourning family, spoke of the easy passage their dear Sammy had had to his home above, how much less he had suffered than their beloved pastor, and how much occasion they had for gratitude that things were no worse. ' ! But the grief of poor Douglass, upon learning the facts, was undefined, unknown, boundless, — utterly beggaring de- scriptive pen or pencil. It had no alleviations. His nature gave way under it, especially as law now came in, with its penalties, to punish what it had taken no pains to prevent. He was remanded to prison, to be tried as a felon, where grief, mortification and confinement, threw him into a consumption, to release him from a state of society in which he was mani- festly unfitted to live. law ! law ! how long ere thou wilt cease from thy bloody work, of first instigating crime, and then hanging the criminal ? ■.11 I'!.- 870 mafleton; or, 1/ ',;.?,■ ,^ y^ \, . CHAPTER XXVII. ^ A LEAP FROM THE SUBLIME TO THE RIDICULOUS. *• These are the works of our God, whereby he would admonish the tjrrants of this earth that in the end he will be revenged of their cruelty, what strength soever they make in the contrary." — John Kkox. The events of this chapter are nearly simultaneous with those of the former, so that Charles Douglass had left; the country before he learned the calamity which had befallen his Mapleton friends. We ought, ere this, to have apprized the reader that De Lisle was, besides Skampton, the only confidant of the secret step which had been taken with Sarah. Of Mr. Harcourt's motive, in intrusting the matter to him, there can be no doubt. SuflBce it to say, he wholly mistook the character and views of that gentleman ; for, though decorum forbade his interfering in the matter, he looked upon it with regret and alarm. He had too high an opinion of Miss Harcourt's discretion to believe any such a measure necessary, and too much confi- dence in her firmness to suppose it would have the least effect to chjinge her heart's affections. That such a person as he deemed her — so discriminating, so pure, so superior to time-serving and sinister interests — should honor a young gentleman with her heart, was of itself suflScient to give him an exalted estimate of his character. Hence, he was not a little curious to make the acquaintance of Douglass, notwith- standing the dubious and dishonorable representations r>f him which he had received from the father of Sarah. MORB WORK FOR THE MAINE LAW. 871 '' Happy, thrice happy man, to have the keeping of a heart so heautiful, so noble in its sentiments ! " he would say to him- self; and, when he learned from Mr. Harcourt Sarah's change of feeling, he could hardly credit it. He believed her incapable of so sudden a transition, iu a matter so delicate, so sacred. " Miss Harcourt," said he, " is not the lady to love so hastily, so injudiciously, as to recall to-morrow the commit- ment which she had made of herself yesterday." So great was his interest in her character, and so much did he feel the want of her guidance in his conscious spiritual blindness, that a dubious and painful uncertainty oppressed him as to his own condition and the issue of events. . After Charles Douglass' night of anguish under the shady copse of Mr. Harcourt' s grounds, he arose and wandered he knew not whither. Though in the midst of living multitudes, they were no more to him than wilderness trees. He was absorbed in his own intense feelings. Gloom and desolateness more total he could not have felt in the heart of a desert. Walking to and fro, he made bold to inquire of such persons as seemed most accessible whether they knew the Harcourt family, in hopes still of eliciting information as to the place of Sarah's concealment. It was some alleviation to be amid scenes familiar to her, and even 'to pronounce her name to those with whom he met. At length, he fell in with a family whose poverty had commended them to her care, whom she had visited in sickness and distress, and who recollected her as their angelic benefactress. "0, we were happy when that sweet lady was here," said the good woman. " But, since she is gone, no one feels for us. My man has had a fever. Mary is in decline, poor girl ! And we lack the bread for our table. 0, that God would send us that sweet angel again, to sympathize in our sorrows ! •4, 'a 872 \ I MAPLSTON; OR, This, sir, is a cold, cold world!" added the poor woman, beginning to weep. « «\.:- « Where has Miss Harcourt gone, that you see her no more?" inquired Douglass. ■ -• "We cannot tell," said the woman, still weeping; "but they say as how she has a lover here that can." " A lover ! " exclaimed Douglass, with bitter feeling. " Pray what is his name? " "It is the great, rich Mr. De Lisle, what comes to the minister's house." " What minister ? " " The king's minister, please your honor." I " Where does the king's minister live ? " " Yonder, in that great house among the trees," said the woman, pointing to the home of Julia. " And does Mr. Harcourt desire his daughter to marry the man of whom you speak?" said Charles, with a foolish but very natural curiosity to elicit the gossip of the neighbor- hood. " Yes, they say as how he wants it very, very much, but our sweet lady will not have him. And that 's what for she is gone off ! ! when will the dear one come back again?" This story of Sarah's declining the attentions of De Lisle, though a pure fiction, touched a congenial cord in Douglass' heart ; and, giving the woman money, he took his departure. He now called on De Lisle, hoping still to obtain the inform- ation he so much desired, and to assure himself of the extent of Sarah's own agency in her mysterious concealment. The consequence was a free and familiar conversation between the two gentlemen. Douglass expatiated on the character of Mr. 'Vf v«- MORS WORK FOR THE 11AIN£ LAW. 873 SkamptoD, and expressed the conviction that he was at the bottom of what had happened. • :■■■ i>,\^' " Very likely," said De Lisle. " I remember to have met the gentleman of whom you speak at Mr. Harcourt's, and I confess things have si' ^e appeared there different from what they were before." " No doubt; he came for no other object but to traduce me in the family. Miss Harcourt was much perplexed on the . subject, and particularly at the subsequent effect upon her father." " I have observed that he has appeared very moody of late." " And yet, if he has deceived his daughter," said Douglass, *' he must be the dupe of some one else ; for I have lately received a letter from Miss Harcourt, dated and post-marked in this place, about which he is as much perplexed as I am. And now, sir, for her sake, as well as my own, if you have any light on this subject, I trust you will not withhold it." " For her sake I would willingly give it, if I were not under pledges of honor which make it impossible." " I cannot ask you to violate your pledges, sir," said Douglass. " Providence will diree 'n this matter," said De Lisle. " If you occupy the place in Miss Harcourt's affections which I have reason to suppose, Mr. Douglass, you ought to be a man of faith in Providence. You would hardly be entitled to your good fortune without it, and I much doubt whether you could appreciate your treasure, if you had her." " It is true," replied Douglass, inwardly rebuking his own. criminal distrust of Providence. "I^eem you a man to be envied, even in your present dismay. To have such a heart is in itself the greatest of treasures, and the surest pledge of Heaven's gracious guard- 82 ^! IMAGE EVALUATION TEST TARGET (MT-3) T yfo ^ y^^ 1.0 1.1 1^1^ |2.5 Hf Ii2 12.0 I 1.8 1.25 1 1.4 ||.6 ^s 111^= i^ M 6" ► Hiotographic Sciences Corporation 33 WEST MAIN STREET WEBSTER, N.Y. 14S80 (716) S72-4S03 iV 874 MAPLBTON: OB, \\ fanskip over yon. Think yoa Miss Haroonri's prajdn i?in avail nothing ? " " Alas t sir, the agony of my loss equals the vahxe of the treasnre," replied Douglass, with feelings little' prepared to respond to this just reasoning. How hard it is to make the heart coincide with the clearest convictions of the uidderstand- mg! "Hope, Mr. Douglass, hope ; Mth, &ith. Is it possible Miss Harcourt's particular friend has not acquired these virtues ? ' ' " If you knew the man, sir, wlio has taken it upon himself to ruin me, you would better understand the difiBculty of £uth's work in my case." "This Skampton must be a masterpiece in his line," replied De Lisle. " Is he a cold-blooded villain 1 " *' no ; the most consdentious man in the world. But a man con<;cientiously wicked is more to be dreaded than one who is so against his conscience." " That is very true," replied De Lisle. " I would help you, Mr. Douglass, if I could. I cannot forfeit my word, to defeat even a conscientious mischief-maker. I sincerely hope the issue may be favorable to the happiness of all concerned, and I will do all I can in honor to make it so. Further than this I cannot speak." Douglass' depression of spirits increased more and more, daily, till he was disqualified for availing himself of the means for gaining his object which were within his reach. The condition of his own family, and the apprehensions which haunted him in reference to his &ther's alcoholic madness, made it impossible for him to bear up against this new assault upon his peace. He had not yet heard of the dreadful catas- trophe ; but there was enough besides to overwhelm him, and, in a fit of desperation, he al»rup1ily t»Rbarkcd for Bnghnd. ■ '-/,A1 . %-■'> '^ i/^ MOBB WOUC FOB THB MAINS LAW. m To ihiB he was impelled by the yaxa hope of diveiiing his feelings from their fixed channel, and of casting an oblivion upon the \y,xst. Bat, "what exile from himself can flee?'' Who can escape '' the demon thought" ? Can a change of place make an existence endurable which we cannot enjoj ? The confusion of a mind, which had lost the power to rally and c' * k„ *' The very same. A body must have a living, you know. I am a poor one, and has to do the best I can. But I repent the part I have acted," added Jim, who, in truth, had expe- rienced a gradual decline of the mesmerism of Gilfort's influ- ence, or he would never have given the hints that led to these disclosures. '■.■^^■•,l.^..^.. ., ,..:. ' ■ ,: ^'v. .v^r;.!,.^ .^^ „j , ^->i; :, ■ S " Where did you get that letter, Jim 7 " , " It came from the great man, sir, enclosed in one to me." " Who are joined with Gilfort in this conspiracy ? Do you know of any?" "Yes, — all his servants." ' ,. '. , " None in these parts'? " " None that I know of, except a rich man in Riverton. I drove the great man's carriage to his house, last winter, and, it being cold, I occupied the hall, out of which there was an open door to a room where the two consulted the matter,, and arranged the whole plan." Here he detailed as much of the conversation as he could recollect, with this difference, — that he left De Lisle to suppose that Skampton was in the secret of Gilfort's designs ; and it is probable that Jim thought so himself. The story so coincided .with what he knew of Skampton's visit to the Harcourts, that he did not doubt its truth, ^^iy,;?: -(^wp^' ,' >\-'-s- - -■ '>!f^ " Jim, do you know any other witnesses of these facts ? " " Yes ; of the fact that it was the design of Gilfort to make Miss Harcourt his wife I have many witnesses." i' -.> - 1 De Lisle saw at once that his only course for the recovery MORE WORE FOB THE MAINS LAW. 879 of Miss Harcourt was to take out a writ for conspiracy agaiiunr both SkamptoQ and Gilfort He therefore gave several hours to further investigations, and, having thoroughly prepared himself, he set o£f, in company with an officer, to take Skamp- ton into custody, the only one named in the indictment whose location was certainly known. A gracious Providence seemed to have directed his steps, for they reached Skampton's man- sion on the very day of Mr. Harcourt's arrival, and a short time after he had fallen into a state of insensibility. They learned at a neighboring inn that a stranger had just fallen into a fit at Mr. Skampton's ; that physicians had been in attendance, and had partially recovered him, though his rea- son seemed hopelessly gone. Mr. De Lisle, meeting with the principal physician at the inn, inquired of him who this stranger was. • ^ . t . " A Mr. Harcourt, from New York, I think, sir," said the physician. ' « What is the cause .of this attack?" inquired De Lisle, without intimating any knowledge of the stranger. " Mental anxiety, I think, aggravated by a too free use of the bottle. I should judge that he has a daughter, to whom some misfortune has happened ; for, in his ravings, he is con- tinually alluding to her, with the most terrific and agonized expressions." " Could not Mr. Skampton inform you whether the man had a c'aughter in trouble or not7 " "No; the honorable gentleman says he has a daughter, but he knows of no misfortune ever happening to her. He thinks it a mere freak of the man's brain." "What is the character of this Mr. Skampton?" inquired De Lisle, anxious to learn his standing in his own town. %■" He is a great patron, and as good as he is great. Our m ISO M^ MAPLBTONl OB, ^town owes more to him tlian to all the other men in it. He ' makes it a central point of learning and influence. He is tb^ ^conservator of the renowned past, and a mighty opponent of our mad innovations, Without him, I am sure I should lose half my business." *<3ki.'*'»'"iS*?<;'<''''i^vvi'''^i'^'*4>iC*^f • '■■' >«»)£;^< Humph ! to be sure; I see," said De Lisle, lost in bis own thoughts. " Then this honorable gentleman knows of . no misfortune to the daughter of the insane man?" ^>f.. .< ^-^** None ; this he affirmed over and over again." -'^^ ► ;f>.:r<« Where does he live? " '-'^■•■■'^- -;^.'i.^*'i>'t'"^^' a^sv^ 'jC/U . . The physician here gave the direction to the gate, with the porter, and admonitory bell, the ravine and its carriage-way, the terrace and its magnificent array of buildings, oyerlooked by the observatory, which we have before described as com- bining in the distinguished man's seat of opuleno and of 'power. De Lisle set off immediately, leaving the sheriff . behind, that he might explore the ground before revealing the nature of his business. When he reached the mansion, he found poor Harcourt raving mad, crying, " Sarah ! Sarah ! Sarah ! " as loud as he could scream. '' Come to me, dear, T precious daughter ! Hands off! — thieves, villains, seducers, cut-throats! — touch her, and I '11 be the death of you!" De Lisle tried to command his attention, but to no purpose. He continued to rave, in the most piteous manner, over his ■ darling daughter. Turning to Skampton, who did not recog- nize his visitor, having seen him but a moment the previous winter, De Lisle said, \' « Can you give no information concerning this man's daughter?" / . ,H., *•;af•I — I — I give information? how should I be able to give information? I know nothing of her," said Skampton, kn a flurried and agitated ii»nner, from a yague idea that it ■M HORB WORK VOB THE MAINS LAW. 881 miglit be somebody that had a right to demand. A goilty conscience needs no accusers. '^ " Sir, in the name of humanity I demand the place of Miss Harcourt's concealment ! " said De Lisle, with an imperious air, which he knew full well how to assume. "Miss Harcourt's concealment! is Miss Harcourt con- cealed ? " replied Skampton, perftsctlj i^hunder-stmck. " How should I know the place of her '•-oncealment'?""*^*'-''^*^**'^"^''*^ '' Think not to put me off in this way," said De Lisle, in a decisive tone. "Bestore her to her father, or answer it at the tribunal of your country. It can be proved, by compe- tent witnesses, that you contrived and instigated this ne&ri- ous plot for the ruin of an innocent and accomplished young lady. You made this miserable father believe that the ruin of his daughter was certain, if he did not remove her. You suggested Wyoming as the place of her concealment. You contrived the plan to decoy her thither. You made your- self responsible for the good conduct of the Marmots, whom you knew to be as black in character as infamy could make them. You, to accomplish your dark purposes of conspir- acy and seduction, have coolly, deliberately, and under the cloak of religion and duty; conspired against the peace and virtue of an unsuspecting &mily. Sir, we can have no quib- bles here! Nothing but the restoration — untouched, un- harmed — of this abused and insulted young lady can divert from your hoary head the gathering storm. Sir, I demand the place of her concealment! " - <•> . "0, God! witness to my innocence!" said Skampton, trembling in every fibre. r. \<:76 :r. "Talk not of innocence, you perjured hypocrite! Look upon this wreck which your infamous stratagem has made of a doting father and a distinguished citizen ! Call not that :.^i MAPLBTON; OB, f'^*^! hmooenoe wUeh has robbed him of the ohoioest jewel of a fether's heart, which has bleached his looks more than the firosts of fifty winters, and has broken up the happiest of fiunily unions!'' '^'•^.thtjfc^Awi''-*W¥si:!;ir'/«vafck^^^ .,. ''I do protest I have acted in good faith. I know no more of Miss Haroourt's concealment than you do. It yraa at the suggestion of another that I advised her removal to Wyoming, and I did it because I thought it a service to the " Yes ; you did it because you wished to aid your accom- plice in his work of seduction. To convince you that I have the facts in the case, I now assure you that both this infa- mous Gilfort and yourself are under indictment for conspiring against the liberty and virtue of an unsuspecting victim ; and I swear, by the God whose our breath is, that, while a drop of blood beats in my veins, neither of you shall go unwhipped of justice ! " "What! my worthy friend, Samuel Gilfort?" gasped Skampton, almost suffocated with terror and amazement. " A devil incarnate ! There is nothing too bad for your friend to do. Where is the wretch?" said De Lisle, with vehemence. '' Sir, you abuse a worthy man. He is in the West, aid- ing the cause of the poor colonists." .. >^; ^ "It is useless to parley," replied De Lisle; "the law makes you responsible, and I will hold you to it. I shall find means of bringing you to your senses." i^%= *l«^iii>*«?i:«¥#r De Lisle went out, and soon returned, with the sheriff, 'I \; r. MOBB WOBE FOK TBI MAINB tAW. MS who placed the great oonsenrator under arrest ; and from itbai moment all his courage, magnanimity and distinguished qual' ities, forsook him, and he sunk into his native littleness. The report flew like wildfire, that the renowned Mr. Skampton was under arrest for conspiring to rob a young lady of her free-- dom and her virtue, — beautiful, too, she was said to be, and that her father had gone mad with grief and mortification. Dark surmises lingered in men's minds, and the thousand- and-one hangers on, whom, in his better days, he would not put among the dogs of his flock, were now forwurd to charge upon him the most flagrant misdemeanors. All protested that they had for years been expecting his fall. The flatter- ers, whose poisoned words had inflamed his vanity and con- verted him from a little to a great mau, and had thus con- tributed to his downfall, were the first to declare that they never had any opinion of his abilities or his virtues. Sap- head said he never had any opinion of him, and now went through the country to pull down Skampton and prop up the anti-temperance movement. He feared both might perish together. The proof against Skampton was so conclusive that the court laid him under heavy bonds for his appearance at his trial. But by this time Skampton's dreditors got wind of how things were going with him, and pounced upon what he had, to secure their debts. Ho was found to be immensely extended ; and, at a forced sale, it was feared that his estate would not pay fifty cents on a dollar. All he had was put under attachment. > « Unable to secure himself, he now applied to his friends ; but, sad to relate, with all his enormous purchases of influ- ence and friendship, or found himself as completely bankrupt here as in money. Not a man came to his relief, — no, not one. Diddington Oollege passed a resolve reeeiwling his doo- ii ■m' 884 MAPLETON; OR, torate of laws, beoause its fHends thought it would injure their institution to have the name of such a man on its lists. Pr. Treadmill, who had by this time manied rich, and was one of the most opulent men in the country, was waited on bjr Mnw Skampton, and entreated, with tears in her eyes, that he would go security to save her husband from prison. Tread- mill trembled, fluttered, rubbed his hands, snapped his eyes, had a sudden fit of palpitation, and, to his great grief, was compelled to decline the honor. Nothing but imprisonment was left to the afflicted, fallen Skampton, and to prison he went, ^r- v;r>:'.:, .k-'-'''';-^.-- a*' v-v - A DIVINE RIGHT TO DO WRONG CHAPTER XXVIII. '^jx^p^ .'\\H ' But then I sigh, and, with a pieoe of scripture, Tell them that God bids ua do good for evil ; And thus I clothe my naked villany ' •• -.^ v With old odd ends, stolen forth of Holy Writ." Shakspeare. Tender thoughts cluster round that home where the daughter is merged in the wife. The light-hearted girl goes out to return only as visitor and mistress of another domestic polity. Unbidden tears testify to the pangs of separation, even though all are agreeable and consenting. The departing one turns away her face to weep over her buried girlhood, and the sundered ties of her youthful home. "I am to repose no more in the paternal arms. I am a girl no longer. A new and untried path is before me. Indulgent Providence, guide my inexperience, instruct my ignorance, bless the dear ^•- MORE WORK FOR lUE MAINE LAW. 885 (.■«i* ones whom I leave behind," she says, and smiles through her tears on the happy possessor of her heart and her hand. "Dear daughter, y;^u will write, will you not 7 Write soon, darling, very soon." ^iw.m^ " Dear sister, come back, — do, do ! We shall be so lone- some ! Remember how much we all love you." " 0, yes ; I will always be a daughter, a sister. You will all be to me what you have been, and more. Yes, you too must write. You must come and see me. 0, how glad it will make me ! The very dog from my girlhood's home will be welcome." > ' "" .... •!<..;.** This is nature. The fruit, with a^hock, leaves its parent stem, — the young, by constraint, its dam. But, if such be the feeling where all is favorable, how much more painful where all is adverse ! The father saying, with bitter feel- ings, " My child is ruined ! I did what I could to save her, but all in vain ! " The mother, weeping in secret over the lost image of herself, beseeches her God to protect and restore the wanderer. Brothers and sisters, in sad discourse about the dreadful calamity which has befallen them, find no hope, no consolation. These are touching scenes, but less aggravating than in the case of Miss Harcourt. She was led by parental hands into the jaws of the destroyer, like children into the burning furnace of Moloch. Better give her to the flames than to a religious debauchee. Strange combination of words, yet true in all time, — our own as well, if we are allowed to apply the term religion to such shocking perversions. Society has its wild beasts, harpies, argus-eyed monsters, many-headed dragons, — men lurking in secret to ensnare and destroy, who are fax more to be dreaded than those fabulous animals on which ancient prowess expended its force. Such men subsist • 33 1 *: ..M':. 856 MAPLETON; OB, upon the ruin of families, crushed spirits, blighted hopes, parental despair, and household degradation. 0, God ! where sleeps thy thunder, that it falls not on these despoilers of thy fidr creation 1 It was the alcoholic sorceress that had done the deed. She had bewitched Gilfort by hereditary influence and actual possession. She had turned Skampton's conserv- atiye brain towards the protection of her own nefarious traffic. She had placed Charles Douglass under the ban of a drunk- ard's son. She had corrupted the heart and perverted the reason of Harcourt. No effect was ever more plainly trace- able to its cause, than all thesr; evils are to that bane of vir- tue, health, character, property, domestic peace, and national prosperity — alcohol. Sarah Harcourt was now the victim of this embodied sor- ceress. Gilfort was infinitely worse than an ordinary se- ducer. He had deluded himself, and his victims too, into the horrible feeling that religion lent them its sanction. Had Sarah known her condition, how easy would have been her escape ! But she was in ignorance, her father deceived, and even Skampton himself was unconsciously acting as the pimp and pander of the basest of men. v v., " My dear Blandy ! " said Mrs. Marmot, " do excuse my substituting that name for Sarah. It is so sweet to associate you with my dear departed one ! My Blandy, husband finds it necessary to take city in his way westward, and I hope you will feel a pleasure in visiting so renowned a place. Our first colonists landed in those parts." - -vi' wi ;i; ,1, - " It will be a pleasure for me to do so," said Sarah. " I have leisure. I have no desire to hasten our journey." ► '* Yes, love, we will travel so far by private conveyance, to enjoy the country scenery, and thence we will make our way by railroad and steamboat." •^*^f*^^i!&7:r=-^j«^M?\^^^ji%:*»"St..« ))\' "*m, MORE WORK FOR THE MAINE LAW. 8St % Great preparations were made for this journey. (Two grooms were selected from the establishment to accompaiiy them in a coach and four, richly oaparisoned, not at all in keeping with republican simplicity. The wire-pullers behind the scene evidently meant to make a great impression, as if such « mind as that of Miss Harcourt could be vanquished by glitter and gewgaw. None are so puerile and contempt- ible, in dealing with a woman of real merit, as those who have spent their lives among the mere apologies of woman- hood. They passed leisurely through the country, seeking in their way whatever was sublime, beautiful or picturesque in scenery, or pleasant in rustic life. Miss Harcouri, -njoyed it much. While they were in the heart of what is called the Beech Woods, Sarah remarked that it reminded her of the forests in Mapleton, which were equally dense and profound. "Mapleton!" said Mrs. Marmot; "did you ever know Mapleton?" • -^ - • ..,„,,., . ,, . v"l lived there a short time, when I was a child.'* " Then you must have heard of our great colonial leader intheWest?" ■_.>■.-. .■.. ,•.-,.■■_ vf,.^. . . ..,: .■■v.. "What, Samuel Gilfort 7 " • - ■ " The same, — the most distinguished man in the valley of the Mississippi." n * ~ •.• •-■'^ "He is a dreadful creature ! " replied Sarah, with a shud- der. •^' ^'^•■;;^- ■■'-■''' ■' ' '■■■ / -••■,^^,.. r, •.;^,;;■■'■^/ ■ "Indeed, Miss Harcourt," said Mr. Marmot, "do you think po?" ^ • . , . "My dear Blandy," said Mrs. Marmot, "the best men are often most maligned." ' ' ' " And the worst men pass for the greatest saints," replied Sarah. -^^'- -"-^■' '- ■ ' - - ,.•■:--.. -^. "No doubt, no doubt," said Marmot, waiving the subject. 888 ,3^«fSv^ M MAPLETON: or, :m~'i:^p:'.^ " The lake view, I belieye, is one of the charms of Maple- ton." :.T<...,- ;,. : ■... ) -v '^ ■- ■■'■ . jiftt. •.■•-(; ^• I, :^"' isrfe.V^>'^if :<;•&•,;'. / "Yes, it is very pretty," replied Sarah; and then they passed to subjects in general. - >, ,. „ a,, ^v. -f- The object of this conversation was to sound Miss Harcourt as to ^he possibility of having Gilfort join them in the jour- ney, who was all this time so near as to have daily communi- cation with the Marmots. They had become the perfect dupes of his pleasure. It is impossible to conceive of one mind i^o completely occupying the place of another. What is it? Mesmerism? — witchcraft? Col. Stone's book on Mathias, the impostor, details facts on this subject too astounding to be believed, except on evidence not to be doubted. That yery evening the Marmots saw Gilfort, when the lat*^ t inquired, " How lies the land ? Can I join you ? " "By no means, venerated father," said Marmot, giving him the title common to Gilfort's dupes. " Conversion is a slow process, even with the most convincing evidence. Your presence will drive the bird from its cage." " My blood boiled to hear her abuse your sacred person," said Mrs. Marmot. ''Nevermind. Treat her kindly. I '11 meet you in the heart of the great prairie, where there is no danger of an escape." Accordingly, Gilfort left the next morning, and went with all speed to his seat in Missouri. Leaving Miss Harcourt to her journey, we will follow GiJ- fort to his home. We will sketch the principles of his colo- nial powfci, or the nature of the tree into which his initiated were engrafted. Unfortunately, it was a tree that reversed the ordinary law, the stock, and not the scion, determining .-v.. J ■. . ■ ■ ^ ■ ■-■ ■■^- J MORE WORK FOR THE MAINE LAW. 889 die character of the fruit. The cardinal principle was thai of England's king : ^ ' U;Mm ■■:,:: i^ < And thus t olot&e my naked vQlany WHh old odd ends, stolen forth of Holy Writ." i^yiiCfii}.^ Gilfort, unlike Richard the Third, really thought himself invested with scriptural authority to do as he did. He had derived this perversion from the fountain that supplied his his blood. He had nourished it with wine. It was part and parcel of his being. His speech before his chosen leaders, on this his return among them, lets out the heart of the man. "I cannot too highly commend," he said, "the zeal and faithfulness with which you have managed our colonial interests during my absence. This colony is yet in its infancy ; but I foresee that it will grow till it absorbs all others, and rules the nations. Our principles entitle us to this destiny, and are a pledge that we shall enjoy it. The other nations are to us what the Canaanites were to Israel. — a prey, a booty, which we are at liberty to appropriate by any means in our power. Joshua, David, Elijah, and all the heads of Israel, used stratagem with their enemies, and we must do the same with ours. Their riches are our riches ; their houses our houses ; their pleasures our pleasures ; their wives our wives. We are the sons of God, to whom are given the daughters of men, that we may choose wives amorig them according to the desire of our eyes. They are doomed, and we are not required to observe faith in our dealings with them. Was Jacob precise as to his mode of appropriating the flocks of the Syrian '] Did not Simeon and Levi first weaken their enemies by a pious fraud, and then put them to the sword 1 Did not Samuel hew down Agag before the Lord 1 These I X 33* 890 ,:^:^i^:I^^MAPLBXQN; OR, \i?i^ '.mm^ things are our examples in dealing with the Gentiles of our OTfnage. ''' -i--'^;-^''^ •'-!>■- ■-■-'. ■•,•. •';/!. ■■•,h).h'»<-h^ . fttmosphere, they deemed it prudent to buy a little as medi- cine, which even their temperance pledge allowed. «- - >- But not a few* of them were reformed drunkards, and ' could not use the article at all without abusing it. Con- sequently, when Bludgeon arrived, who had not yet joined them, he found, to his mortification, that his forlorn hope of total abstinence were convulsed with riot and drunkenness. Moses descending from the mount to witness the idolatry of the golden xalf could scarcely have felt intenser indigna- tion. His blood boiled, his chest heaved, and he felt, for once, a despair of the efficacy of his own principles. But ho restrained the expression of his feelings. He soon learned where the serpent lay concealed, as he had divined before- hand the den from which he had emerged, knowing their con- tiguity to Gilfort's colony. He went quietly to the whiskey- &ctor's awning, and said, '' What do you ask for a pint of that medicine ? " < , ., , , ^^ ; . " A phip," said the man. {^ "A phip ! " replied Bludgeon ; " that 's dirt cheap. I 'd thought it would be a bit, in this distant country." " No, we have n't far to bring it ; we can afibrd it cheap," Sfud the man. . ^ ^. ■ ; " Eh, I see," said Bludgeon ; and, seizing an axe, he dealt a furious blow ot tie barrel-head, when out rushed the imprisoned enemy, and sunk i.-itn the prairie mould, without the hope of a resurrection. . ,. , , « . ' " There you have a market for all at once," he added. " Now, go and tell your master to send all he has, and we '11 buy it up in the same way ! " The feltow, looking round, prepared to pitch in upon the assailant of his merchandise ; but, seeing Bludgeon's bony battery standing in an attitude of defiance, his caution pre- dominated, and he made his escape. /• ■^\' UORB WORK FOR TBB MAINB LAW. 898 -■< «•'■ ■ ■■*••'»J«> , -'.'■;.. »v,s,r-»'.v' . ilV>'' |M. ■vv.^r:?'i-' CHAPTER XXIX. MISS harcourt's adventures. 7<;1:; ■ ' '"'^ i^^'^'- *• Be what thou wilt, thou art my prisoner. ' '''--V '•">> 0, fairest beauty, do not fear, nor fly ! • vV?- i;^' For I will touch thee but with reverent hands, ' And 1^7 them gently on thy tender side." — Shaksfeabb. Miss Harcourt had by this time become a subject of general interest and notoriety. The world was full of curiosity con- cerning a young lady whose fate involved the fall of a man of Mr. Skampton's position, the possession of whose person had been an object of so much scheming with the great colonial dignitary of the West, whose loss had driven an opulent father to madness, a noble lover into foreign countries, and for whom so many men of eminence were ready to jeopard property and life. .;'>-/ After the conversation upon Gilfort, noticed in the fore- going chapter. Miss Harcourt heard not a disagreeable sen- timent in all the early part of her journey, but everything to entertain and delight her. Their city sight-seeing was as pleasant as it was improving. Acting by the ^supposed order of her father, whom she expected to meet in a few days, no suspicion of the snare into which she had fallen crossed her mind. She was peaceful, buoyant, happy, — happy both in herself and in the confidence of her personal associates. Indeed, they were everything to her that friendship could demand; bland, gracious, prompt to anticipate her every want, and seemingly congenial sharers in her sentiments of ii 894 :■??"'..: ■?i^Jt^'IIAPLBTONf «6t;'-' ^ piety and devotion. Their route, after leaving the city, was not direct, but circuitous ; the avowed object of which was to afford her a view of all that was rare and extraordinary in the country through which they were passing. Whatever was enchanting in scenery, sublime and awful in precipice and cascade, beautiful in the green expanse of ocean prairies dotted with forest islands to diversify and relieve the view, — yea, whatever was delightful in cultivated or uncultivated lature, — was spread out before her, to entertain, amuse, and occupy her thoughts. Their plan seemed to be to bury the past in the present, and with new scenes to open upon their ward new hopes and aspirations, to make her a more pliant and obsequious acquisition to him who hoped to rule her destiny. Vain, delusive expectation ! Those who live to eat, drink and enjoy, may be thus disposed of; but not the devotees of right, not the heirs of high-born faith and duty. i -r <' You see," said Mrs. Marmot to Sarah, as they approached the end of their journey, '' how magnificent are nature's works. How unlike the meagre productions of art ! How little you who confine yourselves to cities know of the riches, splendor and magnificence, of the world we inhabit!" i '' You are aware that I am not of this kind. I am a plant of the country. I always loved the country," said Sarah. "Ah, yes; but noi as I do," said Mrs. Marmot, with something unusual in her manner, that surprised Sarah. " Would that I could transfer my vision to you, and then you would enjoy the country as I do." * "Wherein is your vision different firom mine? Are not the hues of light the same to both? Are flowers more blooming to the one than the other? Do not the sights, sounds, odors, clouds, vapors, trees, birds, grass and all vis ible things, alike invite the admiration of every beholder? " >h :£ MORE WORK FOR THE MAINE LAW. 89Sv " No, Sarah. Even you must confess that cultivated minds see in them charms which are not revealed to the uncultivated." "True, cultivation is necessary to enjoy nature; and no doubt some are constitutionally more susceptible to its im* pressions than others. Do you mean more than this?" inquired Sarah, still impressed that some unexplained mys- tery lurked in the words of her friend. ^^^ "I suppose you confess to seeing a divinity in these things," said Mrs. Marmot, warily opening her own fanatical ideas upon one whom she was anxious to indoctrinate into the same. , , , . <■.---■..- " Certainly. The Lord made the heavens and the earth ; and he leaves not himself without witness, in that he does good, and gives rain from heaven, and fruitful seasons, filling our hearts with food and gladness. The Bible teaches us this, and nature teaches the same. But still, a spiritual mind is alone competent to feel and enjoy it." . ^,^1 ^^ ^ j^.: ivr i " Precisely so ; a spiritual mind is alone capable of seeing a spiritual God. But you know the young prophet saw more than this, when Elisha prayed that his eyes might be opened. He saw the mountains full of chariots and horses of fire. Now, this is what I see, Sarah. All things around me teem with living, angelic beings. 0, how beautiful ! — how beautiful ! I see them now moving to and fro like the dancing sunbeams, like the leaping lightning. I hear them, I hear them ! 0, how transporting ! It is heavenly music ! " And, during the saying of this, the action, expression and intonation of Mrs. Marmot were an exact reflection of what she uttered, as if it was all as real as the prairie scenery. « Sarah was confounded, and thought it a mere pantor mime |o amuse her; orj doubting what to think, she said, ■*^.. T -■\. «06 iuplbton; or, '' 0, Mrs. Marmot, you are joking ! You want to put my credulity to the test. Tou need not think me so easily duped." "Joking? Do you think I could joke on a subject like this 7 I am all the time seeing these angelic beings. I talk with them, and they talk with me. I can get answers from them at any time. I am a medium. I see them at morning and evening, reposing on their ro^y pillows of cloud and va- por. 0, how beautiful ! — how beautiful ! They dance in the ambient air. They leap from cloud to cloud. They sport in ether. 0, Sarah, that you could see what I see, hear what I hear, feel what I feel ! " 1 " Pray, Mrs. Marmot, who taught you all this 7 L^t me know, and I will take lessons of him." "Will you 7" said Mrs. Marmot, who telt that she had reached the point, and got the pledge she desired. '' I will tell you. If you will lay aside your prejudices, and take lessons, I can assure you it will not be a week before you will enjoy these glorious sights and sounds." " Call in your teacher, then. I am ready for the first ^esson," said Sarah, smiling. " No, not till we get to Sylvan Creek." " Does my teacher live at Sylvan Creek 7 " , ■ *' That is one of his homes." ^ "What is his name 7" I V " 0, the wicked call him Samuel Gilfort, but I call " " Horrible ! Do you speak of that vile man 7 " exclaimed Sarah, perfectly thunderstruck. ^ >' - " Sarah, Sarah, stop ! You know not what you are say- ing. I would not call him so for all the world. He has taught me more about spiritual beingis than all other men." Vi "You do not know that man," said Sarah, in great con- nv. ./■ - :;' MORE WORK FOR THE MAINE LAW. 897 Bternation at the mania of confidence with which Mrs. Mar- mot spoke of Gilfort. '* I know well where he spent his youth ; and his character was as bad as fraud, and vice, and strong drink, could make it." >■ r ; y.- "Those are slanders, — pure, malicious slanders, Sarah. You do not knoiK him, but will now have an opportunity to correct your mistake." '■* -■■■^hi'( w-fj.*,;' j.:-..r;v.a-;' r-.,- ..»*';.*;twf'' ."^a;' ^ " What ! by Gilfort's acquaintance? No, never ! never ! " said Sarah, positively. ;/-v'^' v *^;m r>,»^r >o '.w ,•♦ » rv.«^\|- ' She had scarcely done speaking, when Gilfort rode up, with a troop of attendants, and horses gorgeously caparisoned. Mrs. Marmot exclaimed, in ecstasy, " Here he comes ! — here he comes ! " •?''• •, ::?",* >,5i m .. Sarah turned deadly piJe, as her real condition, in the power of Gilfort, now took possession of her mind. " ! " said she to herself, " my presentiments ! — my presentiments ! How sadly, too sadly, are they realized ! My father ! my father ! can it be you are in the secret of all this 1 My head is giddy. My heart is faint. God of love, hold up thy sinking child ! On thy promised protection I lean." By the time these ejaculations had passed through her mind, she had so far rallied her sinking spirits as to escape fainting, which she dreadfully feared. That her person should thus fall, without the power of resistance, into such hands, seemed to her worse than a hundred deaths. Gilfort approached, and reached out his hand to her with an air of extreme gallantry, which brought the timid blood again to her cheeks, and she stood in all the strength of her womanly scorn and resistance. Holding her hands firm by her side, she said, " Sir, what have I to do with you? " " To do with me, Miss Harcourt ? " rejoined Gilfort, with 34 --x 898 ,'fff! ii IIAPLETON; OB, JMV^ a patronizing and gracious air. '^ Cannot old frimds ex- change greeting, after ao long an absence 1 " " I neyer acknowledged you as a friend, sir, and I never will." '' You will change your mind, Miss Harcourt, when you know me. I have been slandered. You have heard all these evil stories. I cannot blame you. But, Miss Harcourt, you may yet learn how deeply I have been injured. I am entirely another being from what you think me to be." " Then rejoice in the consciousness. I have no interest to know it. I know enough of you already. If you think, by decoying me into this distant country, to cultivate my acquaintance, you will find yourself mistaken. I will die first!" :. . " Shall I smite the Philistine ? " said one of Gilforfs over- zealous followers, drawing his sword. -•;• • i ■ "Yes, let him smite," said Sarah. "He will see that I have the courage to die, before admitting such a man to my acquaintance. The God who gave me my being will take it to himself, ere he will suffer it to feel the contamination of such influence." . •., ■. .. , :• ,,-- ,:i A frown from Gilfort was suflicient to hasten the fellow's sword into its scabbard again, and to send him in confusion behind the scene. .. " My dear Sarah, how can you repel such condescension? " said Mrs. Marmot. Nervous or mental illusions are far more common than the * sober, orderly portion of the community are willing to be" lieve. Though our story comes far short of the &cts daily told of spiritual rappings and intercourse with the dead, or of kindred manifestations in every age, yet it must to many appear improbable. Fiction cm this subject, to chal- ^' j'v .^4^^ MORE WORK FOR THE MAINE LAW. ^^99 lenge belief, must stop short of fact. To account for these phenomena may be di£Scult. That there is a real power in mesmerism over the nervous system, and also to produce men- tal illusions, it is now generally conced«^d. Some, of course, are more susceptible than others, and the manifestations are in no two cases perhaps exactly alike. But still there are lines of resemblance throughout. Alcohol is another and still more powerful agent in generating mental illusions. In the earlier stages, it raises pleasing fancies in the mind, — of riches, splendor, luxury, power, angelic loveliness, and super- human grandeur. But, as the disease progresses, these are turned into deformities, devils, wasps, spiders, and the most horrible monsters, investing the patient, as in a case of delir- ium tremens. All these nervous disturbances affecting the mind, whether leading to profanity or to prayer, to the inter- course of angels or devils, fall under*the same category. In the case of Gilfort, mesmerism, alcohol, education, habit, constitution and favoring circumstances, all united to cast his own mental illusions into a fixed and most unique form ; and, being united with great shrewdness and concentration, he had the power of casting other minds, of a giv^ constitution, into the same form, and thus of generating a new spiritual dis- ease, and a new school of patients to propagate the infection among men. Mrs. Marmot, and her husband with her, were dupes, and doubtless perfectly sincere. In the deception practised with Miss Harcourt, they simply carried out the will of another, which to them had become the supreme law of right and wrong. The scene just described took place in the open prairie, on the day of their arrival at Sylvan Creek. They had stopped to refresh ; and, after they had done so, they took up their line of march, bearing due west, being conducted by Gilfort m m'i m 400 mapleton; or, and his company for some distance. Miss Harcourt, in a state of mind better imagined than described, mechanically moved forward miii them, because no alternative was left her. She was happy, at length, to oe relieved of Gilfort's pres- ence, by his bearing off diagonally to the south-west, and soon disappearing. He left Sarah and the Marmots an am- ple supply of servants for their new establishment. It proved to be a neat and elegantly furnished Swiss cottage, situated in the shade of a small wood, which stood like an island in the midst of a green meadow-sea. Miss Harcourt was too much fatigued to take much notice of the place, and too much agitated in mind to be interested in anything about her. She saw she was among fanatics and madmen, who were deaf to the voice of reason and the plead- ings of humanity. The mask was now thrown off, because they found no further* occasion for wearing it. Their wine potations were deep and frequent, and they were all the time under its disguising influence. It was a home of mesmeric, alcoholic insanity. Sarah repaired at once to the room as- signed her, to seek the repose she felt she needed, but which her anomalous position did not permit her at once to enjoy. She queried with herself, " Can it be possible that my •father knew the kind of people to whom he committed me? Did he mistrust their obsequiousness to Gilf :)rt ? No, no ! he knew the vileness of that man as well as I. He is inca- pable of so base an act. Did he know my present situation, he would be driven to madness. 0, my Father in heaven, the trial of trials has come ! — come in the form least ex- pected, least prepared for, least endurable, — in this wilder- ness country, more than a thousand miles from my natural protectors, among those whose teeth are spears and arrows, and their tongue a sharp sword ; whose fanaticism is an un- MORE WORK FOR THE MAINE LAW. 401 fathomable gulf, that swallows up faith, sincerity, honor, every kindly sympathy and every virtuous sentiment, and whose intemperance makes them demons ! My head is giddy ; my heart aches ; I sink, — I die ! " And, throwing herself on a sofa, she remained for some time in a condition of dreamy horror, of which she could give no exact account. Ker nature, having exhausted its sensations of woe, gradu- ally recovered its tone, and she began to take more just views of her condition. She reflected that, whatever wrong had been done, she was guiltless, and it became her, as a Chris- tian woman, to commit herself to a covenant-keeping God, the same as to a sickness, or any other misfortune. The Providence that had brought the trial had his own modes of deliverance. To rail and embitter her feelings against the wicked instruments of her suffering, instead of mitigating, increased its poignancy. Considerations like these occurred, but not with entire relief, because she was haunted with tor- menting fears for the future. It was not the fear of poverty, disease or death, but the more terrible evil of personal insult. She was in the power of one who, to her view, was the incar- nation of evil, fraud, fanaticism, rapine, violence and mur- der ; and the difficulties investing her seemed a turbulent sea, without a bottom or a shore. Wild and dreadful conjectures as to what might befall her tortured her imagination with ideas more tormenting than the reality of death itself. To whom could she appeal, but to Infinite, to Parental Love 7 To a late hour of the night she continued this appeal. "Faith, faith!" she said, "shall I preach faith and not practise it ? Ah, the hour of trial proves the strength of a principle ! Shall I fail in the ordeal 7 Are not my Father's promises sure 7 Are they not equal to any crisis 7 Lord, I believe, — help thou my unbelief! " 34* iff m ilia Jiiill! :■« m ii :! W i i 1. m il wM 402 MAPLBTON; OB, Nor were thoughts and devotions like these without their effect. Her heart again dilated with hope. " Victory, vic- tory ! my victory is in my faith. Lord, the assurance that thou wilt be with me is all I ask. Thy presence is hope in despair, joy in grief, happiness in death." Si»9 came to feel it a mere point of difference whether she were in one place or another, among friends or foes, in comfort or discomfort, so that God filled and overwhelmed her with a sense of his presence. In this state of mind she laid down, and slept sweetly till morning. And, upon awaking, her first aspiration was, " How precious are thy thoughts unto me, 0, God ! how great is the sum of them ! If I should count them, they are more in number than the sand ! When I awake, I am still with thee." \' It was yet early. She walked out to contemplate the scenery of her prison. She extended her walk quite round the wood in which the cottage was built, and could see nothing in any direction but a boundless sea of waving grass. The wood was full of birds, as if all the feathered songsters, to which the surrounding prairie furnished subsistence, had con- gregated there for the convenience of nests and roosts, so that their infinitely variegated notes floated iii the breezes, and sent up to heaven the sweet warblings of their bird-song. It was such a scene as she had never contemplated. Its sub- limity, beauty, joyousness, were unspeakable, unknown. To add to the .eiichantment of the place, a lovely little brook, un'like any she had seen in the prairie country, be- cause it was limpid, pellucid and babbling flowed, at her feet. Its movement was brisk, affording an ample supply* of delicious water, which here reposed in little ponds fit for bath- ing ; there rippling and wandering among the smooth stones, it exposed its beauties to view ; while there again, it modestly MORE WORE FOR THE MAINE LAW. 4C6 concealed itaelf in the tall prairie grass. Sarah yielded tx) the adoring outburst of her feelings, exclaiming, " This is truth, this is nature , it cannot deceive ; it is God's handiwork- manship; it is a relic of Eden; it is pencilled by infinite love ! The sight of it is worth all my troubles, all my fears ! " Sarah returned to her room and locked it, resolved to have no intercourse with a family who had shown themselves so utterly base and unworthy of her confidence. At the- hour of breakfast, Mrs. Marmot knocked at the door, but Sarah refused to open it. " My dear child," said Mrs. Marmot, tenderly, " you must have your breakfast. You will make yourself sick. You must have refreshment, after so long a journey." . " The loss of my breakfast. Madam, is a trifling cause of sickness, compared with the loss of my liberty." " My dear Sarah, can you say you have lost your liberty ? Have we not left you free as air at every step you have taken 7 " " It was the liberty of deceit. Madam ; the liberty of a bird decoyed into a snare. You are guilty of abduction, and now hold me as your prisoner. It is useless for you to plead innocence. If you think a breakfast so necessary to my health, bring it here. I shall not breakfast out of my room." Mrs. Marmot left, therefore, and soon returned with her husband, bringing her breakfast. " I understand. Miss Harcourt, that you charge us with your abduction," said Mr. Marmot. " I do ! You have brought me here stealthily, knowing i would not come, if I understood the circumstances." " We have done nothing without your father's order." " That cannot be ! My father would never intentionally deal with me thus." i i||L pi mi m M mm Ui m m m Mis i'l:3:;' M' 404 MAPLBTON; OR, " My dear," said Marmot to his wife, " bring Mr. Har^ court's letters." The letters were brought, and now, for the firqt time, Sarah learned the object her father had in view in taking her to Wyoming. The agency of Skampton in the business was also revealed. As to that of Gihort she was left to conjecture, though she did not doubt it. She was perfectly thunder- struck, especially at the part her father had acted. " You see," said Mr. Marmoi, " that I stipulated with your father for the entire control of your person. And here he concedes it," reading the following from one of the letters : " From the high character I have received of you, I have no hesitation in conceding to you, for the time being, the entire control of my daughter's person, as that seems a necessary condition to the cure of her malady." " That must be a forgery, like my letters from Terrace- green ! " said Sarah, who had examined and satisfied herself that the letters purporting to come from her father at that place were spurious. " How can you affirm that 1 " said Mrs. Marmot. " Ex- amin i the letter, and you will find every mark about it in your fath3r's own peculiar style." Sarah did so, and was forced to believe that it was geauine. " But those from Terracegreen are certainly forgeries." " That suspicion of yours, Miss. Harcourt, must be errone- ous," said Marmot, examining the letters. " They were written by the same hand that wrote the others." " Then my father will be here soon, according to his promise?" "Yes, unless he wishes longer to detain you here. He has a high opinion of the colony and its leader." " You are certainly deceived as to my father's feelings on MORE WORK POR THE MAINE LAW. 405 that subject. I have heard him express a contrary opinion, over and over again." " Well, he ought to have," said Mrs. Marmot, eatnestly. " I do not wish to dispute with you on any of these points," said Sarah. " Admitting all you say to be true, I am of age, and my father has no right to dispose of my person in this way. I implore you, Mr. Marmot, by the honor of a gentleman, to conduct me home." " But he has a right to influence your choice of a husband." " No, not by such means. Besides, it is impossible for him to succeed in this way. I am now more fixed than ever. And, whatever be your views concerning me, I feel it my duty to say, at once, you will be difappointed. I will die before I violate my own heart's dictates. If you keep me here an age, you will find yourself no nearer your object. Deceive not yourself" This she said to Marmot alone, hoping that he might be somewhat less insane than his wife. " I have no control in this matter. I only obey the powers that be, which you know we are commanded to do." "And a righteous power it is," said Mrs. Marmot, de- voutly. " What ! you apply this language to that wicked Gilfort ! " said Sarah, with a shudder. " How can persons of your sense fail to see the absurdity of calling this treatment of me a righteous act 7 Is a fraud righteous 7 Is lying righteous ? You deceived me in the motives for taking this journey. It has been throughout a system of falsehood. And now you hold me here against my will, and call it righteous. Woe to them that call evil good ! " " What standard have we of right and wrong, but the will of God 1 " said Marmot. " Does that deserve the name of IS V^' 'ii it m >: ji|;: 414 MAPLBTON; OR, piiriiy wluch was given her as a shield, that virtue with- out which life would lose all its charms, and existence all that makes it desirahle. It was with diflSculty that Gilfort rallied his panic-struck followers to the assault. Overmastered at last hy his author- ity, they began to deal their blows on the outside of the building opposite to Miss Harcourt's room, deeming that less hazardous than forcing the door. Clapboard after clapboard was torn off, and a way was soon opened into her apartment of sufficient size to admit a man, when Gilfort ordered one of his men to enter ; but he hesitated. He gave the same order to another, who also declined. All were equally unwilling to encounter a danger so imminent as that of entering the scanctuary of virtue incensed and armed for resistance to the death. It was now dark. Clouds overcast the scene, and veiled the starry expanse. 0, night, night ! how horrible the crime and misery which thy mantle enfolds ! Thy magic influence soothes some to rest, and arouses others to deeds of blood ! To the last Sarah maintained her confidence. She believed that God would send deliverance. Nor was her hope in vain. Deliverance came. The noise of nimble feet proclaimed its approach. De Lisle and his party had arrived that very day, and had called to their aid Bludgeon, with a band of his sturdy yeomanry. Canau- deh, to the surprise of all, was also there to join the company. He had abandoned Terracegreen after the Haioourts left, and gone to the hunting-grounds beyond the Mississippi. Here he heard of Sarah's captivity, and watched his opportunity to join in her rescue. His young blood seemed to return, and, painted and bedecked with the Indian habiliments of war, he proudly marched among the first, brandishing his weapons of death, his gray looks and towerirg crest waving in the winds. .^* ^ r -f MORE WORK FOR THE MAINE LAW. 4l5 to The assailing party rushed to the onset, headed by the sheriff, who stated, or tried to state, the commission under which he acted, but Was repelled and silenced by the onset of Gilfort and his men. The melee now became universal. Bludgeon spirited his men, doing fearful execution on the foe. He was in his element, though, on principle, he hud chosen another field for his prowess, from which nothing but an emergency like this could have drawn him. But stiU he retained a mar- vellously home feeling in the midst of carnal weapons, ^nd the tumult of deadly onset. He broke like a tempest upon Gilfort' s* party. Club responded to club, and dagger to dagger. Exploding guns resounded upon the canopy of night. Wounds multiplied, blood flowed, groans were heard in the darkness, and grim-visaged death shook his fiery dart. De Lisle, with the sheriff by his side, pushed his way through the contending multitude to the post occupied by Gilfort himself. The latter, seeing his danger of falling into the hands of the kw, rushed on the officer, dagger in hand, and would have killed him upon the spot, had not De Lisle interposed and plunged his gleaming steel into his side, when he fell palpitating to the ground. Exasperated to the last extreme by this eveiit, his followers, thirsting for vengeance, were like a bear robbed of her whelps, and employed their weapons with deadly elFect. What with the war-whoop of Canaudeh, the wailinga of the wounded and dying, the ex- plosion of fire-arms, and the fierce encounter of men fighting hand to hand in the darkness, it was altogether a scene of horror not easily described or conceived. The Gilfort party at length gave way, overpowered by numbeS, and took to flight, — the Marmots, servants and all,i|eaving Miss Harcourt the sole occupant of the house. " *' • ■ " ' 'H till i! :i I!! I'!' •I I;! !! i I ii "i ! in ;.* 416 MAPLETON; OB, She immediately rushed out, lamp in hand, to do ^hat she coald to alleviate the suffering company. Who should she meet but De Lisle, covered with blood. Stretching out his arms, he exclaimed, " My dear Miss Harcourt, you are safe, and I am happy ! " "0, Mr. De Lisle!" she exclaimed; "my friend, my benefactor ! — all bloody 1 you are wounded ! " " Only slightly, Miss Harcourt," said De Lisle; "do not be alarmed." ^ ., , , They had not ceased, speaking before Canaudeh came forward, and seized Sarah by both her hands, and, with sounds which had no meaning to any but himself, spoke love, spoke gratitude^ spoke eloquence that went to the soul. . .^ , " Canaudeh ! Canaudeh ! " exclaimed Sarah, in pei^ect astonishment; "is it you? is it you 7" " My dear Miss Harcourt," said Mr. Skampton, who lay near, weltering in his blood, "can you forgive me, — me, so deeply implicated in thi^foul transduction ? " . ,, This first sight of Charles' enemy in such a plight, she had reason to believe for her sake, was all the apology or expla- nation she demanded. Taking his feeble hand in her own, she kissed it tenderly, and poured upon it her warm tears, to express feelings of which words are a poor index. " Can you forgive me ? " repeated Skampton, faintly. " Forgive, Mr. bkrtmpton ? 0, that *u coo cold ! I love, I cherish* I honor the man who was willing to suffer all this for my sake." f " Then I die happy," said Skampton, with a smile of sweet serenity, and who was really happier at that moment, in his effort%to atone for the errors of the past, than he had been for many year|. No one is so much to be pitied as he who is deluded into aesuming such responsibilities as Skamp- #■' ./"■■ '-'V ;/ . MORE WORE FOR THE MAINE LAW. 417 .1- ton iiad BO long stood under ; no one so mucli t^ Bd envied as a genuinely broken heart and contrite spirit, p;/, . , :^./ "Mr. De Lisle," said Sarah, "where is my father? Is he here?" , - \._. " He is ill, and could not come; but I have brought one in his place," replied Be Lisle, beckoning to Mr. Holliston, who had just that moment reached the scene of action . " My dear Sarah," said the venerable man, taking her by the hand and kissing her with parental tenderness, " how tiiankful I am to meet you once more alive ! " " Most happy, most happy to meet you, Mr. Holliston. Is papa very ill? " inquired Sarah, with much concern. "In no danger of life," said Mr. Holliston, the party having agreed not to make an immediate disclosure of the real facts in the case, hoping still that Mr. Harcourt might recover his reason, and anxious to save the feelings of his daughter in so trying a moment. " Where is Charles, Mr. Holliston?" ; ~ >' - " Gone to England to recreate himself; but 1 have written him, and I think he will soon return." , . , " How are Mapleton friends ? " On this point, also, Mr. Holliston deemed it advisable to answer evasively till her mind should be better prepared for the dreadful intelligence. All were much aflfected at the condition of Skampton, whom they had dissuaded from exposing himself to danger, but whose zeal to repair the wrongs which he had done had withstood all their arguments. Those who had escaped unhurt now devoted their attention to the wounded. Thus, this home of fanaticism and malignity was converted into a hospital, where humanity wept over a brother' J woes, and mercy exerted her healing power. Bludgeon was specially attentive to Skampton, and both won- i'l iii ill tii *i 418 "\'? ^ ,,, MAPLBTON; OR, (lered that they had remained so long ignorant of each other's excellences, and now became united in the closest bonds. The whole company agreed in one thing, that alcohol was, directly or indirectly, the procuring cause of these tragic scenes. Alcohol had driven Harcourt mad. Alcohol had precipitated the good Mr. Littlefield upon an untimely death. Alcohol had sacrificed Samuel Douglass. Alcohol had nearly proved the ruin of Charles. Alcohol then held his father in durance vile as the murderer of his own son, and had planted the seeds of a certain and premature death in his excellent constitution. Alcohol was at the foundation of Gilfort's jharacter, and of most of the evils which he had done. And these were but the beginning of the woes with which it had deluged society. ' '' One happy effect of this meeting of extremes was to temper the ultraisms of each ; and even Bludgeon gave up his wild scheme of founding a colony to live on herbs, and thankfully received every creature of God as good, and nothing to be refused, if it be received with thanksgiving. Skampton became henceforth an earnest temperance man, and a yoke-fellow of Bludgeon in securing the passage of the Maine Law. Even the Marmots returned in a few days to the cottage, confessed their guilty delusion, and did all they could to repair the evil done. Thus, more familiar acquaint- ance, on terms of amity and reciprocal alleviation, revealed, what they had never before suspected, that the constitutional peculiarities of each were necessary to the perfection of the whole. f-i - \ MORE WORK FOR THE MAINE LAW. 419 1 V' CHAPTER XXXI. THE VICTORY. ; /* " For he to drink had yielded up ^ ' ' ' / ■^ His intellect and noble strength ; And now the demon of the cup. Exulting, claimed his prey at length." — Tappak. " 0. friend, that fainted in the noontide ! first In heaven thy fevered heart forgets to thirst." Maky Irving. So long was the delay of Miss Harcourt at Sylvan Creek, that she did not reach her home in New York till a few days previous to the return of Douglass from England. Their meeting was a sweet star shining upon a night of sorrow. Both were overwhelmed with gloom, in all but their relations to each other, — Charles from family affliction, and Sarah from the insanity of her father. He had not yet recognized her as his daughter. He was constantly uneasy, — wanting something, he knew not what, — and no expedient could be devised to compose his mind and body. He would say to her, in thick and broken accents, " Madam, do you hear of my daughter? Come, John, get my hat, cloak and staff; let us go and find Sarah." "Father, lam Sarah. Do you not know me, father?" replied his daughter, with tears in her eyes. -^ . " Yes, ay, well ; I must go and look for her. John, I tell you," — waxing often very furious, — "get me my cloak; harness the grays; come, we must be off! " To humor his freaks, the servant would do as he com- manded, by which time he would be on another taok, and X M >jm li! :i i if i il f ,i f 1; i V't', 420 MAPLETON; OR, .i.„ there was no conjecturing one moment what freak would take him the next. To Sarah he was a living death, — a moving, breathing, and yet unconscious memento of perished joys. 0, sad, sad to feel death's shock in the mind before it touches the body, — the quenched manhood, but the living animal ! One power in Harcourt retained all its original vigor, and but one, — that was his appetite for strong drink. y?hat had acquired force from his insanity. Nothing but physical restraint held him back from instant death by the bottle. He seemed to crave it with an eager, insatiable thirst ; and they had to deal it out to him in stinted measure, sS food to a con- valescent patient, his medical advisers deeming it unsafe to deny it to him altogether. He had made free iise of the cup from his early years ; but, so long as his mind retained its vigor, he never went beyond the bounds of genteel drinking. The man controlled the animal so far as to keep him out of the gutter. He ab- horred drunkards more than most men. He had no charity for those who could not enjoy the fruit of the vine without making beasts of themselves. He felt the more contempt for them, perhaps, from the disrepute into which their excesses brought his own habits. Drunkenness, as an argument against drinking, always nettled him. It was assuming an affinity between the two ; whereas, he insisted that they were as wide apart as midnight and noon. Hence, he was unmer- ciful to drunkards, and would have nothing to do with them. How little did he consider that the incessant contact of the alcoholic cautery with his nerves, those organs through which the mind acts, was burning out its foundation, and preparing the intellectual superstructure to Ml with a crash. The ha- bitual use of alcohol through a course of years rarely fails to bring on such a crisis, either to the soul or the body. No .^ '-.%' MORE WORK FOR THB MAINE LAW. 421 matter how genteel the use, no matter how remote from what is called drunkenness, still the fire hams within, and in the end will work its way out, to bring on a wreck and a crash in some form, and to some extent. While Mr. Harcourt's mind controlled, he was a genteel drinker ; but when that gave way, the animal in him became supreme. There was nothing but the animal left. All the forces of his being went to that ; and, so terrible were his demonstrations of physical force unguided by reason, that they were at length compelled to confine him in a mad-house. Sarah did and endured with all a daughter's devotion, till her own life was in peril ; and it was not without many tears and misgivings that she finally resigned him to those who could render his violence innoxious. Whereas, the alcoholic mad- ness of Charles' father was periodical, and not permanent, that of Harcourt, though slow in coming, became the final condition of his earthly being. To add to the affliction of this drinker's daughter, Marldon — their attorney — had taken advantage of the insanity of his client, to cheat them out of their most valuable posses- sions. The Terracegreen plantation was lost, through his neglect and intemperance. After kindling the conflagration in Mapleton, — yea, after instigating with his brandy-bottle the death of the good Mr. Littlefield, and of Samuel Doug- lass by the hand of his father ; yea, after precipitating the senipr Douglass upon his own death-bed in the midst of hia days, — this miscreint, this fugitive from justice, who had many times cheated the gallows of its rights, returned home to learn De Lisle's trusteeship of an estate of which he desired so much to have the fingering himself; and, from a mixture of avarice and revenge, set himself to the task of embezzling so much of it as he could by any possibility lay his hands upon. '%. 36 it ) i I 1 1 1 :! ill ' I 422 mapleton; oe, y'^y^it By forged docnments and false papers, which De Lisle had no means of disproving, in Mr. Harcourt's present state of insanity, Marldon actually ta.*^ MAPLBTON; OR, derer," said his oounsel. " The killing mtist be with malioe aforethought, to make it murder. And can you, as an honest man, Mr. Douglass, affirm that? " "► " No, I cannot," he replied, " but the law, I believe, construes it so, when the killing is induced by one's voluntary act in drinking to intoxication. Many a drunkard has been hung for killing with as little malice aforethought as I had. And why should I be made an exception 7 The sentence of death is upon me, and what matters it whether it be inflicted by the hand of man or the providence of God 7 " u "It matters much to your family, my dear," said Mrs. Douglass. " The wife and children of a man hung, — think of that ! If you was really a murderer, then we ought to submit. But, my dear George, you are not ; you knov/ you are not. You have no more consciousness than I have of killing our dear Sammy. And, is it right for you to plead to a lie, because the law sometimes uses it as a pretext for hanging a man 7 " '^ ...j ., , - " No, no, Mr. Douglass," added his .lawyer, " drinking a glass of brandy, bad as it is, is not murder ; and you know that act deprived you of your moral agency. And can a mere physical or animal agent be guilty of the crime of murder? " " No, you mistake," said Mr. Douglass ; "it was not the drinking, but the contact of the brandy, that made me insane. Had not madness been induced by this contact, I should not have drank at all." These considerations induced him to plead not guilty. The state then proceeded to prove the facts of Samuel Douglass' death, just as they were; which they had no difficulty in doing. The defence set up the plea of insanity, and witnesses were adduced to pi-ove that alcohol invariably deprived the prisoner at the bar of his reason, and that it was during the i I ¥■ m MORE WOBK FOR THE MAINE LAW. 427 madness thus induced that the killing took place. This alio was an easy process. ^,:. „ .j, ^^»^i^ -i^^m*'' >j». W ■ The state plead, that a man knowing such to be the effect upon him of taking a beverage, narcotic, or article of diet, is in law responsible for all the consequences which ensue from taking it; that half the murders were committed under the alcoholic excitement ; and that, on the principle set up by the defence, law has no redress for the greater portion of crimes on its docket. It must leave society to the depredations of this self-induced madness. The prisoner at the bar was not only bound in law not to kill with malice aforethought, but not to put himself into a state to endanger his fellow-man in property, limb, or life. If he has put himself into that state, and has taken the life of his son as a consequence, he stands before the law as a murderer, and the jury is bound to ^ive a verdict accordingly. ■ = The defence, on the contrary, thought it a poor redress for the state to hang men who, according to its own show- ing, had by their own act ceased to be moral agents ; and that it could have no more effect to deter others from crime, who became insane in the same way, than killing an ox that gores a man to death can deter other oxen from doing the same. Is the sacrifice of irresponsible agents a redress to civil law ? Is there any redress known to that lav7 which is not a preventive to crime 7 If we hang men for the act of killing, during the paroxysms of alcoholic insanity, because that insanity was induced by their voluntary act in drinking, what is it but hanging them for getting drunk 7 And yet the state provides by law and by license the means of getting the people drunk, wholesale and retail ; and it seemed to the defence cruel, afler all this, for the state to hang men for drinking,— hang them for buying at its licensed tippling-shops ! It thought, there- 428 MAPLETON ; OR, fore, the jury could not, in justice to the laws, in justice to the state, or in justice to the body politic, give a verdict of guilty against George Douglass, the prisoner at the bar. • As the court was about to commit the cause to the jury, the prisoner was asked whether he had anything further to say- Whereupon, Mr. Douglass rose deliberately, and looked around on the court and spectators with great composure. His tall, manly person, brilliant eye, and eminently intellectual expres- sion, emaciated as he waa by disease and pale with confinement, impressed every one with his personal dignity and superiority to any who were sitting in judgment upon his life. *' May it please the Court and Gentlemen of the Jury," he said, dehberately and coolly, "little did I think that I should come to this. Born of parents who were able and ambitious to give their son the best education the country affords, I had advantages above most others for reaching a widely different destiny from that to which I seem to be doomed. The affluence in which i was cradled was my ruin. I was made to believe that it was manly to take a social glass. I fell in with companions, at college and elsewhere, who nourished in me this delusion. Our potations were deep, our revels boisterous. I studied law, but left my profession to look after my father's business, which was of a nature to keep the poisoned cup ever before me. I drank till I had supplied the place of a natural repugnance to strong drink with a maddened appetite, which defied control with the article within my reach. " Your Honors, and Gentlemen of the Jury, the state w; uld hold me responsible for the consequences of drinking, on the ground of my knowledge of them beforehand. This seems specious. Yet my experience assures me that the madness does not begin with drinking, but witL the causes that lead \) . v^^f^-. I! ■iki /fl<*i-r^,.'(Ti j..^.i 'if^v^- MORE WORK FOR THE MAINE LAW. 42» (0 it. It dates from personal contact with alcohol, accom- panied with the conciousness of the option to drink or not drink. Mj wife saw the state of the case, and advised me' to flee to a country where society had not yet introduced my enemy. I listened to her advice, and brought my iamily intai this then wilderness country. For a few years we lived here in security and peace. We prospered in the world, and ac- quired a competence. But the state then located one of its licensed grog-shops near my door. I guaiiied against the danger for months. My family stood sentinel around me," and, as he said this, his chin quivered and the tears rolled down his manly face. " I *brtijBed myself with resolutions and prayers, knowing that my life and that of my family were involved. " But, your Honors and Gentlemen of the Jury, my enemy subdued my strong-holds, and led me in chains. I was sur- prised into the trap that the state had set for me, — I say this in no spirit of recrimination, — and the moment I was there all my motives to virtue perished. T was occupied with an inward feeling, — call it what you please, — that absorbed my whole being. Wife, children, reputation, life, were nothing to it. Had your gallows then presented itself in perspective, with myself hanging upon it as a consequence of drinking, it would not have deterred me. That was the beginning of my insanity ; that is the beginning of my insanity in every case. The contact is the conquest of my enemy over me. "In reference to the crime on which you are now to adjudi- cate, your Honors and Gentlemen of the Jury, it is due to my- self and family, yea, to justice and the public, to say that I had for months kept under my great enemy, till a new acquaint- ance, from no good motive, brought into my field, from our town groggery, a bottle of brandy. That produced the mad- ! y^WA 480 MAPLETON; OB, ness which fired our destructiTe conflagration, vihic^ led to the death of our worthy pastor, and which struck mj own dear son dead through a father's hand ! " Here again his tears fell, and his utterance was slightly obstructed ; but he soon regained his wonted composure. " On my return, I felt that I was pursued by dreadful creatures, which led mo to arm myself with the lever ; and, as I approached my door, I thought I saw a cluster of poisonous serpents all intertwined, writhing, hissing and darting &t me, when I dealt at them a blow. A huge monster then seemed to be coming at me, of the crocodile genus, covered with great scales, with fiery eyes and open mouth, to swallow me up. A dreadful terror came over me, and, to protect myself, I struck my lever at it with all my might. I was then seized by giants (I give my own impressions), and verily believed the hour of my doom had come. My fears and feelings overpowered me, and I recol- lect no more till the next morning. When I came to myself, I was weak, fcruised, and felt more dead than alive. Soon my dear wife came, and, like a ministering angel, began in her quiet way to soothe my feelings and alleviate my suflfer- ings. I said to her, ' My dear, why is your head bound up 'I ' ' Never mind,' she said, ' you are sick, and we must take care of you.' ' Call the boys to help me up,' I said. My wife stepped out, and soon returned with my elder son George, when I asked, ' Where is Samuel 7 ' She waived an answer, and I had not the remotest idea of our dear Samuel's death, till the sheriff came to apprehend me. Then I saw that the love of those to whom I bad made myself most unlovely had drawn a veil over the sad event, to save me from the torments which I have since endured, and which a hundred deaths on the gallows cannot equal." The court and jury were much ('V HOBB WORK SOB III MAINE LAV. m. .'•jt moved by this recital, and the noioeroTW auditory were bathed in tears. ^l^5?i.i^^,L*•*^i:i■;^^,.*^*J;^:.^??''^fe ■ ,^ -* " Think not that I detail these facts to screen myself. No, your Honors and Gtntlemen of the Jury, it is too late for me to hope for anythin,» this side of death. But, in justice to the state and its legislators, in justice to the executors of the law, in justice to the mags of the people, the source of law and power, in justice to others whose misfortune it is to lose the command of themselves through the drinking customs of society, yea, as a sacrifice on the altar of truth, the last I shall ever make in this public manner, I do affirm that the state of mind which produced what your laws call murder did not lesult, in my case, from the act of drinking, but from the previous steps taken, under authority of the state, to insure that act. It resulted from the licensed hand that held the cup to my lips. As a dying man, I leave this my true, my faithful testimony, hoping nnd praying that it may lead to more just views on this subject, itod to a final withdrawal of the means of drinking from that unhappy class to whom it is an unfailing incentive to crirae. I do it to save the state from the inhumanity of first instigating the crime, and then punishing the criminal." This speech thrilled upon the audience like a voice from eternity. The judges and lawyers, who had plead earnestly againstthe constitutionality of the Maine Law, felt themselves ii^^^nrkward position, hanging a man for acting out the in]RI9^which the constitution had produced within him ! It is hard to convince a man against the fixed course of his ideas. The court, therefore, repressed the wnconstitutional sympa- thy which they felt rising in their hearts. ,> ;: * " It does seem rather a hard constitution," said one judge to anothei, a low voice. ^ *.■ WPiPT'^ «r*f ' mi ::jm;: ^^' replied 'liii olbifp|^'bat ooostitntioiiui a^ftuIllere xetfeelioii df the fimdamental principles of law and of litwrty. Whatever the ocmstitation is, tbesojil take it, would be yio- lated, if we denied a man the privilege of buying the meuu to g^ drunk when he pleased. And those who abuse to pur- poses of crime the parental care of the state, in providing for this by the license law, we have only to imprison 6r hang." The court charged according to the sentiments of the last judge. But the jurors said, in their quaint way of reasoning among themselves, that they thought it would be wrong to hang a man on the constitution who had been made a crimi- nal,^ the constitution. Hence, they brought in a verdict of Not GuHiTT. Thus the afflicted but now triumphant Douglass was allowed the only boon he had to ask — the privilege of dying in the bosom of his fiunily ! TIHI8 / ^ ft ,3r™ '' > I U.JIfBJWllpM ^npnwpMP •:;-■' .'f. mmmmmmmi I \ ^■% I (