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Les details de cet exemplaire qui sont paut-Atre uniques du point de vue bibliographique, qui peuvent modifier une image reproduite. ou qui peuvent exiger una modification dans la mAthode normale de filmage sont indiquto ci-r1essous. □ Coloured covers/ Couverture de couleur nn Covers damaged/ I I Coloured pages/ D n n n Couverture «P«» tfeomiiflri w^voiiaM^ : ^^ And estuaale (b» blepsingt wbicb tbtysltei^. -^ Tboufb murioit Uttteis «lill ibull wMoii Wd An edttfti portion dealt to alltqaDkiod t As direrent |ood. by art or nature glveni To dlffereot oatlona makea tbeir bl&iiogfe^i>.«' , s(V. Tp> V0LUMS9 m^^ iou I. «» >l 'f '-« PVBlilSBEP BT J AMIS Q, Ai>A^S« 1835« ■^ %■ inir^iift^iUm^ . jmsfSKsaamsmsmamaam. THB ran \uA jtuitompivlitd bis -^aUf eoitiit, btt hit 4att rayn, dimly flitting on tlie eifMuided tlwet of water tliat formed the western boundary ef our bortson,. displayed a reHef-of light and shade, unrivaled In the best das^piatloni . of art. The day had l>een warm, uncomfortably so ; bat a riting'breeze restored the elasticity of the air, and revived the vigour of anfmatad creation. The milk-maid sang blithe- ly, as she poised i>^' mllk-pails. Ttie plough-boy whistled M'he drove the esttle to the weteriug-placei Hy holtlMM^- led in his farmy&Td; Ibe good lady of the bouse w,aso0ci^ pied with her children, and 1 seated n^elf in the plassav enjoying the luiury of sol^de, junklst Ijw ejiillveBed scenes ofruralpeaceand4)len^ I! " i was aroused from a deep abstractive flt of meditation, bjr the luMirse'Volce of oar honest nelghbonr Nozbnry, who* with a 'pipe in his mouth, -was sitting not three pai^s dis- tance from me. • Bless me r he eried, taking his pipe in Ills band, < what can 4hus>so entirely occupy your mind ? Bere have I been this half hour endeavoring to attract your attention, but I could not db(sdB«ven so much as a nod of recognition.' * Oh, your servant, 9(r. Noxbury ; I beg pardon, but my mind was ludeed much occupied. My publisher faasaent to tne for a preface,' ^ ' wv' ' A prefaee ! Why, then, you really intend publishing your maguscript ?' , ** t j*f INTROOVCTIOK. *You inrpriiemt, sir; and ivhatibould prefentmy pub* lithinjfil?* * Fate, mj fHend, fate, that destined four birth on the wrong tide of the AllantiQ. Are you not an American ? Can yout then, hope to>ie with a native ofBurupe ?* , 'Ton provoke noy patience, Mr. Nozbury. Am I not a deicendant of thoie lame Kuropeans, whom you eztoi so highly?' * And so are all Americans, Canadians, Nova-Scotlans, New-Brunswickera, Tanlcees. &c. They all doubtless de- rive their descent from the nativea of Europe ; yet whoev- er beard of a Skakttpeare, a AoetfM, a Tasio, a Milton, a Cameillef anAumtf, a Robertton, an JiddU*n, not to men- tion the immortal geniuses of the present day ; who ever heard ofoneofthose being born in America? And the best Judges allow that (be human race degenerates in America.* * Great God ! Can this be borne with patience ? Can I who feel that vital spark, that emanation from the Deity, first breathed into man at his creation, raising me above all materiality, and bidding me, by (be divine pursuit of knowl- edge, to imitate and follow in (be paths of superior intelli- gences ? Can it be told, (bat (his divine emanation is cunfin^ ed to one pardcniar spot of the earth ? Mr. Noibury, com- pel e the rivers, (he moun(ain8, (he lakes, and the plaigsof your native country ; compare them with the s(upendou8 works of Nature ever present In America, and then say, can ' man te the only growth (bat dwindles here ?' * Oh, pray descend from (he ilouds, my young friend,' cried our portly neighbour, laughing. * it would be too fa- ^tiguiug an excursion for mn to follow you (here. And now answer me in the language of common sense, can the littra* ■"N. IM*U nfTRODUCTION. ture of America be coqipared with tb^t of Europe ?' fuil he ezultingly laid an emphaait on the last sentence, * No sir. I acknowledge in that respect, our present in- feriority. The school-boy coooiiig otrer his lesson, canpot in acquirements be compared wiib his preceptor ; but mfty lie nut in the course of years, fie even with hit teacher ?— America is young, but is fast verging towards maturit;^ ; and the country that in its infancy produced a W^mw^ton, and a Frahklin, may in Its riper years, become a iunidar ry, whose effulgence shall extend |o all parisof thtfloli«/ * And my young friend here, is to be the instromtnt to bring about this * consummation devoutly to be wished ?* * Mistake me not, Mr. Noxbury. I am far liroill baring the vanity to imagine my talents equal to those of many of my countirymen in all parts of f^oilh America. But ttlll may I not endeavour to follow io the.patb of koow ledge, ao4 imitate, thou|;h at a humble distaiice, tboso great geoluset who have gone before us, tvhose mortal remains now lie mouldering in the dust, but who have left us transcripts of their minds, that will defy (be power of (he destroye.r time, as long as any parts of our globe shall rjdtain Iracea of civilixation.* * And so my young enthusiast, instead of devoting your time to some more lucrative employm.ent, wherein, with proijper industry, you might acquire a sufficiency of that de- 'ili|eratum of life, that magnet of attraction, cash, you mean to sacrifice all your powers of exertion to study, and author- ship, for (he chimerical prospect of al length obtaining a niche in the temple of renown 7' If su(ih were my design, air, my choice might not be deem- ed singular. EJveQ.iti America, are (here not many living persons who are proofs, that the literary character of Ame- X INTRODUCI^fON. dcivii Tilt riling into Eminence ? How itttny men dlitin* ^oiilied for tlieir acqfliftnenU ki Iit«r«tnre7 How many eminent for Itieir Rklll in the arii and iciencei, nowrecidiog 4n all oor principal dtlet F Ba€ih of our l^firned profeuioni •lao containi •unmlMn cclebmled for tlMlr knowledge and I, acquiremenlt. Hare we not eloquent orators in oar senile, and tone dlitlnguiilKtd pollti^iaif t4ie hand of n^ .lofo. 1 idly be lo^efatigdlyKs In t6e pursuit of lcnow|^dge» audi trust that a discriminating and liberal public will re- . ceito my pi>oductions with Indulgence; and then perhaps on ft, future dayi -I may produce a woik more worthy of their encouragementi and aiore calculated tp do honqr to , our netlTo country.* • But the critics, my friend ?* * Not e?en that formidable n^me shall deter me from sub- mitling ray intended publication to the ioipectioii of mj country itten. Qur.reviewst Mr. Noxbury, are jpoRt^ con- ducted by ipen of cfindour |ind liberality, who will not ex« pect perfection from a young and unknown autho^. l|r(ut that my pages will not be found detrimental to the ,greot cause of religion and morality. In my tale of * Tonnewon- jie,* I have endeavored }o describe some of the causes of the spirit of emigration so predominant among the citizens of America, and also the general habits prevalent In many of our new settlements. I wished to demonstrate the effect of edvcation, and accidental circumstances, in forming thje A \ ...^ INTnODUCTION. general and individual charaeter; and, for the lake or„€ofi> tratt, bare extended my plot to Ibe old world. I wished^ aiKO, to ihew the vital Importance of correcting tbe violent temper, di»pla7ed by many children, before babit ahali bare formed these cxecretccncei of the mind Into Inieparabie parts of Ibe pertonal character. I trusts Mr. Noxbury, that a liberal pablie will overlook many defecta In the execotlon' of my work, from a eoniideration of my motlfet, and by the encouragement beitbwed on my attempt to pleaat tbem^ tndace some Americans of superior talenttr to dlBVOte tbeir abilities to the general service and amufement of llieir countrymen.* t'Well, mj young friend,* said our honest Mlghbouil^ rli* Irgand heartily shaking me by the hand, *l will no longer eiercise your patience by contradiction. Paraue tbe bent of your Inclination, since such Is your dcterfDinationi and I sincerely wish you success in the path yon liave chosen.. ••-«-> 1 fear I have detained you from writing your Preface ; but, perhaps. If you were to commit our conversation to. writing, tt might serve you for an Introduction.' ' * Upon further consideration of Mr. Noxbury*s bint, I even eonoluded on following It ; and so, Mr. Publishert 1 leod yon this, Instead of a Prefece. .*« 1 '-f * \ f \ IV. ..# ATAIjE. CHAPTER L Ui) nial qui rcpand la lerreiir, Mai que ie del en nn fnreur ^ '* Iiiveata pour punir les crimes de la (erre. ,« La FoNTAiirc. rr was in the Autumn 6f 179G. The yellow fe- Ter, that terrible scourge, was spreading its ravages in New- York. The city was nearly deserted by those who had the means of removal: but the* adjacent country resounded with unusual noise, bustle, and activity. The day had been uncommonly sultry. All nature seemed exhausted, under tlie scorching influence of the burning sun. At length, the fiery lu- minary sunk beneath the western horizon. The wa- ters of the majestic Hudson, gliding by in soft placid- ity, reflected the burnished canopy of the serene sky, . studded with myriads of stars. A gentle breeze, from the expanded ocean, seemed to refresh wearied na- ture, and to infuse new life into animate<) creation. Mr. Marvin, after partaking the refreshing bever- age, imported through such perils from the cast, that herb so famous in the annals of American independ- ence, laid aside his morning gown, resumed his coat, hat, and cane, and sallied forth from the farm house, in which he had sought refuge from the pestilence. The Hudson separated him from the city, anil state of New- York ; and, as he enjoyed the <:ool of 1 4„ OV cr I* tlje evenins;, in a walk along the New-Jersey bank musing on the fatal scourge, that was desolating' the city, he jmused near a landing place. A boat had lust arrived, tilled with passengers, who separated iti flJifcrent directions. An ©Id man stepped from tJie boat. He held a child m his arms, and hurrying forward with unequal steps, and agitated -air, he presently came in contact with Mr. Marvin. "Ah Monsieur, je vous demande pardon,'' said he, mechanically putting his hand to his hat. The gentleman turned towards him. Thi* moon shone full in his face, ^hc FrenclMiian star- ted, "Ah mon dieu! tis our good neighbor, dieusoit beni! Ah Monsieur, take dec^rc de pauvic Icetlc Theodore, He be saved from de coutcaux de.s regicides, only to die with de pestilence, if 3 ou no j>ity him. Madame, his Mama, she die. Ah moii ditju! she be dead, me here, etpersonnc to give her '^^ Adieu Monsieur, adieu. Que dieu vous bcinisse!"T-7-Then laying the sleeping child at th<«. feet of our aquaintance, be sprang into a boat, tliJit was pushing, otr for the city. 4* Mr. Marvin was entranced. He gazed aficr the Frenchman. The boat was nearly out of sight. He looked at the child. It began to move. "Ah mama mapauvre mama," said tic poor 'ittlefellow.awaken- jng; and he rubbed bis eyes? and rose on his little feet, "Joseph, Joseph," he cried; but'no Joseph ap- pearmg. he (urru.'d to gaze at the sti'anger, who stood. Mc^iJe hini. ]\|r. Marvin, was aHectcd. " Who are you, my little man /" 1- *'v"?" Theodore," answered the child, in broken English; "but where be Joi^eph?" "Who is Joseph?" "/2t;^P^*' g«»^^ Joseph, who come wid mama, et le petit Theodore de France. Oh ma pauvre Mama, where be mama? where be Joseph /" 'flUf ^ / '• f cannot abandon this child," said Mr. Marvin to himself, "although he is left under my protection,in a very singular manner. Martha will think it very strange ; but probably his relations will reclaim him,^ when the fever has subsided." " How old are you, my little fellow ?" "Theodore soon be four years old, Mama say todcr day; but where be mama, pauvre sick mama ? \h mon cher Monsieur, bring me to mama. Oh Jo- seph, Joseph, ou cs tu?" " My dear little boy," said the gentleman, "will yon go home with me ?" " To Mama," said the child, extending his hand, "Ah you bring Theodore to Mama?" The gentleman took the proffered little hand, and led the innocent prattler to the farm house. He wa» met on the Piazza, by a middle aged female, in a very plain dress. "Brother, is that you ?" "Yes, Martha," said the gentleman, presenting h^ young charge ; " and 1 have brought you a little com- panion." "A child! where did you meet witii him?" ]\Ir. Marvin related his rencontre wi& the French- man. " Strange ! astonishing ! But what shall we do with him?" . . "Martha, can we abandoa this child, so singularly committed to our care?" "No, God forbid!" said the sister, "It is Provi- dence, who has committed him, to our care. We have neither of us children, brother j let us then con- sider him as the gift of God." " He will probably be reclaimed by his relations, after the fever shall have subsided," observed Mr. Marvin. The female took th r 1 ''!ftly dear little boy, will you come in with me, and get some supper?" ^ " To find mama ? Ah Madame, bring me to mama." " I cannot to night, my dear. Your mama is on ' Hie other side of the river." '^Ahmy mamc^sick^she cry, no to see her petit Theodore." " WHb is your mama, my dear? And where is she^ to be found?" But the child could not answer these questions, and ^ further particulars could be obtained from him, but that his mama was sick, &nd Joseph came with them from France. He,- however, eat a hearty sup- per of bread and milk; when our new acquaintance soothed litm to sleep, and laid him in her bed. The following morning, as the brother and sister sit at bre^ft^st, with their new charge, the landlady hurried in. . "Ah Mr. Marvin, Miss Marvin, have you heard the news?" ■ "What news, MiB.Regna?" ^ v" Indeed, I guess, instead of you Yorkers taking sefiige in our housen, we must go off further, and seek refuge for ourselves." " Why, what has happened ?" "Happened indeed; the country ig strewed with dead. As Anthony went to the field this morning, he stumbled oVer two dead corpses ; and Peter found one in the loft, among the hay: And as neighbour Hilher went to open his door, he stumbled over something, and what should it be, but a dead man^ lyil »black with the^ver. Ah cannot those Yorkers st&y and die,sincej^e they must, in their own city ? And not be bringing fim>e6tiience to honest country peo- ple's families ; ^anoblocking up, with their dead bod- ies, the doors of oqjf housen, and our banis^ and wtr I '*% * stahles ? Even the very animals will sicken, and we shall loose them." Miss Marvin shuddered. "How you talk, Mrs. Re,:5na; are you not afraid of the judgment of God, and that you may yourself catch the contagion ?" " Indeed I am too much afeard, but we will catch the fever! I will shut up the housen, and pay a visit to my sister, who lives far to the westward. Black Caesar and Betty, may stay and take care of the cat- tle. Ah them Yorkers, if they would but stay at home! But the sooner we are off, the better." So saying, she hurried away, to prepare for removal. The brother and the sister then deliberated on what had best be done. He was at the head of ^ considerable commercial establishment; but had, on the preceding week, shut up his shop, which lay in the most affected part of th6 city, his clerks having previously abandoned him,^ and sought for compara- tive safety, among their relations in the country. Mr. Marvin with his sister^ had, as we have seen, retired to the Jersey share ; hut here infection seem- ed ^ follow them;' and their deliberations of the morning, concluded in a resolution to pay a visit to an acquaintance, who resided in New- York State, a- bout forty miles north of the city. They accordingly commenced the journey the same afternoon, taking with them their new prote- gee. • They proceeded in a sloop, about thirty miles up the Hudson river, and then hired a wagon to contky^ them to their friends. Mrs. Vanderhausen met them at the door, and cor- dially welcomed them to her best room, the window shutters of which were opened for their reception ; but, before introducing new acquaintance, I should perform the ceremony of introduction to our old ones, 1* « *» # 4f m- I* it- Mr. Marvin was, at this period, about live and ^hir- - ty. Jlis sister thought him very handsome. He had^ ii) rcaHty, fine black-eyes, black hair,^nd a very dark complexion. He was rather stiff in his manner, whicir remains of rusticity -had not worn off, although he . had taken lessons in dancing &nd fencing; for lie was on the wrong side of twenty, when acquiring those accoYnpHshfnents : but he made up in ceremony and genuine kindness, what he wanted in ease and polish. Add to this, he was alw ays well dressed, and decent* ly in tlic fasluon; and aided by an imposing gravity, from which he rarely unbended, ho commanded much defetenvc and respect, from the generality of his acquaintance. Yet, whoever could penetrate "^furthiex tlian outward appearance, wouldperceive, in the comitenance of Ephraim Marvin, the reflection ^ tof a stil^iig mind, with great encrjpy and persever-^ ance. Mies Martha Marvin wa« a.ftiaiden of forty. . Hejc countenance was, .at first view, rather forbidding. I^er complexion was the same as her brothers, but iiotinoulded into any expression of&ymmctry or beaui ty» She wore no head dress, but her long black hair, ^ which, though arranged in rather an antique manner, was always extremely smooth, and . shining, lies person was tall and thin, but very muscular, and her manner rather stifF and reserved. Her dress was plain,and what little attemptsut fashidnability she as- sum^djWere lost in her want of ease and native grace. Vet, beneath this plain exterior, lay the kindest heart) that ever beat in mortal bosom. Herinemory was, likewise, well stored with the w^orks of our best Au- thors ; and she knew the Scriptures by rote ; yet, ei- thjeix owing to tlue habit of submitting her own judg- u^nt tothe control of another, for she relied with the most implicit deference on the opinion of her broth« cr, aiid quoted his remarks a.* axioms ; ©r, her jj^dg-i f-'^fefcrl' ^1- ment not being equal to her memory, she possessed " by no means, the real information, one would at first have been led to expect; but rather resembled a !>» • brary, where all the information you desire, is con- tained, but you must be at the trouble of collecting,, and digesting it yourself. This couple, with little Theodore, were most hos- pitably received by the portly Mrs. Vanderhausen, and her cherry cheeked daughter, Cornelia; The farm house was built after the Dutch iuanner, with a laipge Piazza in front, and benches ranged a- gainst the house. Every thing bespoke rustic plen- ty. The orchard abounded in fruit. Th'<»-garden was filled with vegetables, the farm yard with poul- try, the fields wifh cattle, and ever^ necessary, everf luxury of life, seemed contained within the farm. A number of Negro children were playiigp about ' the yard, while' the services of the elder ^li^ and of their mother Betty, were called inter re^yjisition, to prepare tea for the company ; for it was near four io . the afternoon, and ijvhire the good Mrs. Vanderhau- sen bustled about, ''on hospitable thoughts intent," the ruddy Cornelia remained onthe Piazza, to enter- tain their guests. Soon the -tabl^, laid'in the best room, groans be- neath the weight of various kinds of cakes, every va- riety of fjftiitj preserved'in every variety of inanner; dried ham, dded beef, cheese^ hot rolk and butter, tea, &c. Summoned by the sound of i horn, Mr. Vandcr- h^usen, with his son Anthony, and hfs negro Caesar, made their appearance from the field. The father and son, shakmg hiknds^' with their guests, received them in a very hearty manner; while Caesar, grin- rang and shewing his whiter teeth, hoped that massa Marvin had enjoyed good heeilth, since he was last at Vanderhausen faim.^ y" 8 Having brought pur party into sale harbourage wc will look back a Httle, and become further acquain- ted with our personages, before we proceed with our history. Ephraim Marvin was the third son of a fanner in the neighborhood of New- Haven, Connecticut, and until his fifteenth year, assisted his father and broth- ers, in the cultivation of the farm; attending occa- sionally the village school, during the winter season ; but, receiving a cut in his knee, as he was chopping wood for the fire, this accident occasioned a total change in his future views and prospects. The Qurc was very lingering, and it was feared, that Ejphr^im would be lame through life. This woulU prove a great inconvenience to a farmer. • Study was then the only resource, and the lad must push his way up in life by learning. So thought his parents ; and, fortunately, Ephraim was much addic- ted to study, and having resigned his pretension to th6 homestead, to an eldeV brother, he limped to school, and commenced a wider range of studies. The progress he made at school in Arithmetic, and Mathematics was considerable; and, from some old books in possession of the family, and others that he borrowed from his neighbours, he acquired a consid- erable knowledge of Geography, and History. But lieoks of controversy were what mostly abound- ed in his neighbourliood; and Ephraim was very fond of arguing on divinity, with his mother and sis- te"r Martha* From this the transition to metaphys- ics was very easy ; and our young American was soon lost in its mazes ; but here he had his arguments to himself, llie old people checked the prophane suggestions, sometimes engendeired in the ^rtile im- agination of their son; while sister Maiptha follow- €d, with cautious stepsf her daring conductor; but, far from controverting, submitted with imj^it defers , ' .9 (^\ce to that prodcgy of learning, lier handsonll^ brother, whom she already began to idolize in her heart, as the paragon of perfection. Ephraim was now nineteen, and it wad high time^ to choose a profession. He had acquired all the village schoolmaster could teach. The funds of his father could afford no higher means of instruction; for on a farm of fifty acres he supported a family of nine children. Btit" Ephraim Marvin was a4ad of ^ spirit. He was in his own estimation very learned, had entirely recovered of his lameness, and wished for a wider range to his genius, than Connecticut could afford* With a large silk handkerchief full of necessaries," and five dollars in his pocket, he went on board a sloop, and was landed in New- York. But he sooa found that a capital of five dollars would not set a man up in business at New^York;^ nor did his learning command the respect it did in his native village. Some had even the eiSrontery to laugh at what they termed his rusticity and self-importance ; but he resisted theic ill i%|anners with becoimnggrav* ity, and stood self-colli^ted within himself. His lit- tle stock was neariy exhausted, and still he had nJt succeeded in any attempt to obtain employmein^ ** New-York city is not at present the place for me," * said Ephraim to himself, *•*• I must Beek farther, and go where learning is duty appreciated." The first rays of the next morning's lun^nary found Ephraim Marvin three miles from the city, travelling on foot, with his handkerchief of necessa- ries in his hand.- fferwas, towards evening, joined ' by a farmer on horse back, who reined in his horse, that he might converse with l^e foot passenger. A little desultory chit chat brought on a certain degree of intimacy^ and the stranger, on stop^nng at ft subalan^al looking iarm house, invited Qitritiae'' t/ W^* *^ la mnt A enter ; who gla()ly complied, and partook with his host of a hearty supper. ^ . Our young Yankee endeavoured to make himself agreeable, and soon inspired his host and hostess, with a wonderffll opinion of the learning and acquire^ ments of their guest* Jo the course of th^ evening, he learnt that the vil' Tlige school was vacatit; the former incL ^bcnt hav- ing abandoned his school house, for the profession of the law. The idea of supplying his place, immedi- ► ' \ ately occured to dur New-fenglander. He proffer- .M... cd his services, and through the influence of Mr. Vanderhausen, was installed in the .office of school- master to the village. He Was, in return, particu- Tarly assiduous to instil leamiiig into the minds of the bold Anthony, and little dimpled Cornelia : and the intimacyv thus commence^ CODi|^ed long after the worldly prospects of Marvin had Indergone a mate< ^ rial change. In five years, our friend Ephraim saved two hun-^ dred dollars^ He had now a capital, and might re- turn to New* York. Here he establishiBd a grocery jKop, on a small scale at first; but 'extending his bu- ipReBs, as his mea^encreased. rf Meanwhile, sister Martha began to be considered ^ an old maid. She had entered her thirtieth year, when an uncle died, who left her five hundred dol- X lars; and, while considering on the lUfei^ manner of disposing of her fortune, she rcceiired a letter from her favourite brother, containing an account of hi^ Hew establishment, his hopes, and prospects. " My five hundred dollars," thought Martha, "may be a > great object to my brother, at his first commencement: in business." Her father was-dead : her sisters were all married. Her eldest brother had proceedisd to the new countries ; and her widowed mother rtttidcd with the second son, who possessed the homestead. Dr' irr^i--:' #. ■t "4^ Martha wrote to Ephraim, oflfuring to keep house ^>r him, and resign her newly acquired fortune to hi; disposal, as an addition to his stock in trade. Tlie brother gladly accepted her procosal, knowing how valuable her economical qualities would be to hirp, independent of. her ready money, np mem acquisi- tion to one, whose whole cap&l.did not exceed three * hundred dollars. The perils of the voyage, and unattended, were nothing to Martha's sisterly affection. Behold then^ then, settled on the hrst floor of a small, but neat -house, in the Bowery. She managed the household ^ifFairs, with the utmost neatness and economy, still, ^however, contriving, to preserve an appearance hi6 native language. Another year passed quietly away. Theodore was quite domesticated. The remembrance of his former friends had passed away, as a waking dream, the idea of which scarce remained. His new pror tectors grew every day still more attached to him; and, had it not been for the steady discipline of Mr. Marvin, aunt Martha would have made of him a spoil- ed child. The good maiden was herself perfectly happy, as f;ir aS'is consistent with our imperfect state of being. Her love for her brother was such, as is seldom found between brothers and sisters. It engrossed her af- fections, and left no void in her heart. Her house- ho?' I affairs, her bible, and Theodore filled up the te- dium of time ; and, to sit in the e\'enine, and hear E- phraim discourse on men and things, describe liviin; 2 14 ^ manners and locnl customs, was, to her, a source of the highcHt satisfuction, the only relaxation, that she; sought a tier, or desired. Ephraim had hitherto been happy. His business oc- cupied the most of his time. He was ambitious, and fond of study. The former stimulated his industry, %vhich wai, to crown him with wealth, the ladder to importance; the latter enlivened his leisure hours; and, at the same time, gave him consequence in the eyes of the world. But he now considered himself a rising man, and he had laboured to acquire accom- plishments, a commodity not to be kept closely nhut up, or only displayed to dazzle an old maiden sister. She, to be sure, was very worthy; l)ut still, the evenings began to grow dull, when there was no auditor but sister Martha. Our friend Ephraim th^ commenced beau, iftid the evenings , which had been exclusively devoted to sister Martha, were ncfw more frequently spent in the society of a circle of quite fashionable ladies, to whom he was introduced by gome young lawyers and merchants, with whom he had contracted acquaintance- Miss Marvin bore this very patiently. It argued an increase of consequence in her brother ; and their fates were so closely blended, that his importance was necessarily renected upon her. She applied herself more closely to reading her bible; still knit- ted his stockings, with unwearied perseverance ; and listened, with encreased delight, to his rehearsal of the scenes in which he was then a participator; when disengaged from other j)ursuits, he occasionally spent an hour with her. But Ephraim Marvin began to discover, "that man was not made to be alone," and to tliink of an helpmate. Sister Martha was no obstniction. There was surely room in the house for three. His heart fluttered for some time, between several fashionabie 15 i>elles; but was at length fixed, by a pleasing exteri- or, lively deportment, fashionable accomplishmcntfi, tmd twenty thousand dollars, ready cash. What in:in in the Union, could wish for more? Emily Chace was ward to Mr. Van Ren^ellaer, formerly Consul to a foreign Power, and was by Mrs. Van Rensellacr introduced into the first circles, fler father, a native of England, had arrived in New- York, in very moderate circumstances, where he es- tablished a livery stable, and in a few years, realized between twenty and thirty thousand dollars, liis wife did not long survive their union. The pride emd vanity of Mr. Chace was now entirely concen- trated in his daughter. At five years old, little Emi- ly was committed to the most fashionable boarding school. At ten, she lost her father, who, wishing to secure her a respectable entrance into life; left her to the guardianship of Mr. Van Rcnsallear. The influence of wealth is all powerfal. Mr. Van Ren- sellacr accepted the guardianship, and it wa^ intend- ed that Miss Chaceshould be very accomplished, but in this, it was necessary to contend with nature ; and she acquired but a very superficial acquaintance with any thing attempted to be taught her. By means of the best instruction, and much forced application, for study of every kind was her aversion. Emily acquirea, however, some polite accomplishments ; could sing several fashionable songs, and accompan- ied them withr tolerable execution on the Piano ; but in needlework) she was a gredt proficient. He|r education fihished. Miss Chace went to reside ut her guardian's, and was introduced into genteel society ; but year after year passed away, and Emily Chace remained unmarried. She had early, at her father's, been taught to consider hersetf of great, im- portance; a lesson she did not afteiii^ardfi easily for- get. She had formed a resolution fia acco'jt of r)o 16 man not possessed of a large fortune, and insinuating* manners. Sucli an one did not readily olfer, and, at> the age of twenty-eight, Emily retained the name of Chace. Of late years she had declined in her pre tensions; but the perfections of her successive suit- ors had declined in the same ratio* Old maids wie re Emily's aversion, and she was resolved not to continue a member of the sisterhood.. She began to look about in good earnest, when Mr, Marvin was introduced to her society. She made enquiries concerning him, and wa» informed, that his fortune was at least equivalent to her ov/n, and that he was a rising man. "This will do," said she, "I will set my cap for him." Her figure was small and slendef, and her complexion fair, which made her appear several years younger than she really was.. She dressed with particular care, played her best tunes, sang her best songs, and^ in short, so captivat- ed our friend Marvin, that his constant theme to sis- ter Martha, was the accomplished Emily, the beau- tiful Miss Chace. She, good soul, was impatient to see- this paragon of perfection. She was rather pleased, than dismayed at the thoughts of her brother's mar- rying; for she, too, thought the house large enough for tliree; and set about arranging it in the best pos- hible manner for the reception of the bride. The marriage was celebrated in the country, at an acquainiance of Emily's. Sister Martha was not present; butj in a few days^ the bride and bride- gropm arrived in a hakney coach, at their house in the Bowery. Miss Marvin flew to receive them. The new sisters regarded each other, w^ith very scru- tinizing attention. The en?brace was very cordial, on the side of Martha, but very ceremonious on that of the new Mrs. Marvin. A few weeks glided on, and sister Martha still con- tmued to manage the house^- Mrs. Marvin regard- ed the proceedings rather scornfully, but declined 17 interfering. She forbore visiting any, but two or three of her most familiar acquaintance ; never deign- ed to invite Martha to accompany her, and refused to receive any other visitors. Miss Marvin bore all patiently, still conducted the affairs of the house with great prudence, and still de- rived all her pleasure from her brother's society : new cause of umbrage to the lady, who began to grow jealous of the sister's influence. Mr. Marvin finding his wife one day in a very med-' itative mood, told her, affectionately, that he feared she was losing her health and spirits, by too, close confinement; and desired to know, why she did not admit the visits of her former acquaintance ? So great a seclusion, he addefd, was too sudden a change for one of her former lively habits. "You do well to make the ejiqtiiry," she replied; "you, who have so greatly deceived me. I was giv- en to understand, thatyou lived in a genteel manner, and yet I find nothing in the house fit to receive any one. I am ashamed to see my friends here; but must have the whole furniture cnanged. 1 brought you a fortune, and surely I have a right to have my own house arranged as I please.." The husband, accustomed to implicit deference in his sister, walk- ed silently away, "chewing the cud of swe^t and bit- ter fancy. ^ The house was indeed soon entirely new model- led; and our friend begii|l to fear, that his increase of money might not prov4e a real increase of fortune. The bride now conceived a roote J aversion to the quiet demeaner of sister Martha. She engaged a woman, who took all thfe management oat of Miss Marvins provident hailds. This was rather hard to bo borne, she who had considered herself at hon^ej for so many years, was now merely a boarder in the house, subject to the caprice of its mistress ; and y '. la » y was rarely invited to join the company. This sister Martha patiently subnnitted to, for her brother's sake ; and smothered her grief, tliat she might not increase his unhappiness ; for she perceived that Ephraim be- gan to be very uncomfortable. The husband now found, that good temper in a wife, was as necessary, as exterior or accomplish- ments; but the reflection was made too late: and when the lady gave way to her ungovernable fits of passion, he could discover ho other resource, than io walk quietly away, and endeavour to sooth the rising irritation of his mind. Theodore was at first a favorite; but Mr. Marvin soon discovered, that his lady's capricious fits, alter- nately of indulgence, and then of passionate severi- ty, would spoil the temper of the child, which he had watched over, with such sedulous care. He, therefore, sent him to board with a clei^man in Connecticut, who took a limited number of pupils. Their house, formerly the abode of quiet, placid happiness, was now changed to a scene of gloomy discontent, and continual vexation. "Ah !" thought the disappointed Martha, as she sat in her neat little bed-chamber, her hands employ- ed in knitting, but her mind ruminating on unpleas- ant reality, "can this be the handsome, the all-ac- complished Emily, on whom my brother lavished his praise, until it kindled into enthusiasm ? I can see no resemblance in the portrait he so often drew." But new fears, new anxieties, were again awaken- ed in the bosom of Mr. Marvin. To his other ties, was added the prospect of one still tenderer, still more endearing.; and the pleasing emotion, awak- ened in his mind, by the expectation of being a fa- ther, expanded his heart and made liim overlook or extenuate the foibles of his wife. But these soon grew intolerable, and comfort was entirely estranged •^ ^ Id from the house. Sister Martha knew not what to do*- The pleasing hope of the expected heii, would have made her cheerfully bear the capiiciousness of her new sister, for whom she would still have endeavor- ed to feel affection, had the latter permitted her. But her aversion daily grew more inveterate^ and Mrs. Marvin at length peremptorily declared to her husband, "that she would no longer reside in the same house with Miss Marvin.'' He expostulated, but she abruptly left the room, saying, "that he must decide between his wife and liis sister; for one of the two should leave the house that day." Never was man more perplexed. Sister Martha^ to whom he owed so much! could he, as it were, turn her out of doors ? What would she think ? What would their relations think? It was Impossible! but, then, his wife ! in her critical situation, with her violent passions. — There was no knowing to what extremity these might lead her. The most probable result would be the destruction of his hopes ! He was accustomed, in every exigency, to have recourse to the calm deliberation of his siM»r; and now walk- ed up to her Httle chamber. Rut, how could he consult her on the present occasion, when she was, herself, a party concerned? She percejged his anx- iety, and affectionately enquired the cause. 'Hesi- tatingly he informed her of this new instance of fem- ily's perversity. This was the first time, that words had passed between them, in reprehension of their new connexion. The agitation of Martha was ex- treme; but she summoned all her resolution to her aid, and concealed t^|||plession of Her feelings. Then looking up, with cSIrless eye, " My brother,'* said she, * your happiness has always been the prin- cipal object of my solicitude; and I am not only^ wil- ling, but desirous of promoting it, in whatever man- ner may be most conducive to that effect." 20 It i f " Martha," said lie, with strong feeling, " you have always been to me, a friend indeed." "And I will continue to prove myself such. I * must leave the house." "Is it come to this, my sister? No;, you must re- main." " The life of your expected child, must not be sa- crificed to the spirit of altercation, and in the critical situation of your wife, the violent passion, into which contradiction would throw her, might prove fatal." "My sister," said Marvin, "to what a different character must I si^critice you!" and he abruptly left the room* The forced resolution of sister Martha gave way at his departure. Whither was she to wander ? How leave a home, she had so long considered her own, and which was endeared to her by so much content and happiness ? And what compensation, what sub- stitute would she find for the society of her brother? He, who was^aliin all to her. "His happiness," cried she, "I will promote the happiness or my brotlier." She wiped her eyes, took her shawl and bonnet, and sallied out. Miss Marvin had held little society with her neighbours. She had no familiar friend or acquain- tance in the city. Her brother had been her sole cpnfident. Her rich neighbours knew little of her ; but to the poor, she had been uniformly kind, and they all reverenced and respected her: for, though extremely affable, she was ever of opinion with the old adage, "that too much familiarity breeds con- tempt." She now directed her steps to the house of a carman, whose wife was a very decent woman, for one in their station of life. To these people Miss Marvin had once been of material service ; and she had since procured employment for the husband. She was received with great courtesy ; but the good '2i -.vonian could not contain her astonishment, wherf Miss MaiVin enquired, if she could furnish her hoard ? "Surely, Miss, you won't leave your brother's^ house, which was all the same as yourn?" "My brother, Mrs, Bleeker, is now married, and has a wife to superintend his house. I am fond of retirement, and will prefer your quiet lodgings, to the bustle and gaiety of Mrs. Marvin's." "Indeed," said Mt^, Bleeker, "I guess how some persons can forget, for fine folks, and fine feathers, them who have, years and years, served thorn, and even their own flesh and blood." "No reflections, Mrs. Bleeker. I only desire to* know if you can furnish me with board and a bed- chamber? I care not how small it be, so that I can* hare it to myself.'^ " There is ou'r spare bed-room. Miss ; but the fur-' iiiture is so poorly, or else I should have liked it much to board M\&» Marvin, in our house." "I have my own bed-room furniture, Mr. Bleck-- i*r; and, if you can prepare the room, I shall return to niglit." To this arrangement, her new landlady assented. Miss Marvin returned to her brother's^ for the last time. Tea was ready: bat Mis. Marvin, without deigning to speak, left the brother aud sister, to par- take of it together, and joined Peggy in the kitch- en, where she silently drank her tea. Mr. and Miss Marvin c arcely tasted the refreshment. Their meal was hkewise a silent one. Martha went to her chamber, and |>acked up her things. Slie then re- sumed her bonnet, and at the door met Mr, Marvin. "Adieu, brother," said she, "1 have taken board at Mrs. Bieeker's." lie looked up with a glance of anguish, turned from her, aiid hastened to liis room.- The silent hour ottwiligiit found Miss Marvin sea- ted in her forlorn little apartment, which looked into* stM\ € w 22 a small back yard. Nov/ was the moment of anguish r She had not lived in elegance ; but she had always enjoyed comfort. Here every thing bore the im- pression of necessity. A feeling of forlornness per- vaded her mind ; she felt that, in parting with her brother^ she had parted with her better part. He was the only persory, that for many years had sympa- 1 biased with her, the only person, who understood her feelings. They, who had lived so long in sweet communion ; who had enjoyed so many happy hours together, who had, for so many years, been all in all to each other; who could alone appreciate each oth- ers mutual worth. They were now severed by an acquaintance of yesterday, by one, whose pursuits, enjoymehts and ideas, were so totally different from either brother's or sister^ ; by one, whose frantic ex- cess of temper, and capricious folly would not only render her unhappy, but embitter the future life of Jier darling brother. "And Thcouoie, thct engaging child, he too, is banished, through your tolly, cruel Emily. Dear boy, were you here, your endearing little caresses might restore a ray of cheerfulness to your unhappy auut Martha! But, r.o; she must like- wise be denied your company. Yes, 1 must remain completely forlorn, completely wretched." In a similar train of reflections, did Miss Marvin pass the shall never want; and 1 have a thousand dollars of your money in my hands; for your original deposit has accumulated to that sum." Sister Martha returned to her lodgings, and seldom was she now seen in the street. Her bible was her only companion. Probably in that, she found a com- forter ? No, for her religion had assumed the com- plexion of her mind. It was dark and gloomy. She ^studied) the prophecies, and endeavoured to eluci- date their obscurity, until her mind was tinctured with thoir intricacy. She had once been attached lo general reading; but tliis she now entirely aban- /loned, and the more obscure parts of the sacred wri- jings, alone occupied her attention. , Her imagina- tion became visionary and unsettled, and in endcav- fouring to apply the denunciations contained in the Revelations, and ancient Prophets, to present events t.nd living characters, she grew listless and inditier- 4Mit to the ordinary concerns of life. Mr. Marvin sometimes called to see his sister, but })e was loth to discover his feelings before strangers; ^md lon^ intervals continued to elapse between Jus visits. ■^ 25 CHAPTER III. J^^ Ah, happy hills! ab, pleating shade! Ah. fielc's belov'd in vain ! Where once my careless childhood stray *d, A stranger yet lo pain ! I reel the gales, that Trom ye blow, A momentary bliss bestow, As waving fresh their gladsome wing ; My weary soul they seem to soothe. And, redolent ofjoy and youth. To breathe a second spring. . Gbat. THE autumn passed over. The winter advan- ced, and all remained in much the same sAmation« At length, in April, happiness again dawned on E- phraim Marvin; for his wife then presented him with a daughter* His heart opened to nature, as he took the helpless innocent in his arms, and blessed it, with the first dawning of parental feeling. His heart expanded with love, and he embraced the mother with deeper affection, than when he^^first look her to his arms as his bride. Amity seekied restored between them, and some appearance of do- mestic affection. Was sister Martha included in this armistice ? No ; the gloomy hatred of her sister- in-law glowed more deeply than ever; nor could she hear, with calmness, the name of Miss Marvin. The little Evelina increased in size, and infantHife beauty. The father, one day, accompanied the girl, who was taking out the child, and bade her follow bim. He presented the infant to aunt Martha. She pressed it to her bospm. A tear fell on the infantile face. She kissed it off'. "Lovely babe," said she, "your birth makes amends for all. Emily, 1 freely forgive all you have made me suffer." Three years elapsed. The brother continued to rise in the world ; but sister Martha continued her Hoiitary pursuits; and, to gaze at her brother, as h^. 3 •^ 26 ■* , walked by, was the only emotion of joy she expcri* CQced. Still she sometimes saw the child, and new comfort dawned on her; for the httW Evelina began to distinguish an aunt, who almost idolized her; and oilen, with the persevering decisiveness she already displayed, insisted on being taken to see aunt JVIar» tha. Soon, the little creature found the way there alone ; and, day after day, would she spend hours with her aunt; while her mother was content to purchase quietness, by permitting Evelina to take her own way. The heart of aunt Martha expanded beneath the inild influence of this amiable child ; and her gloomy iits of despondency fleeted away, 98 shadows befove the sun. By degrees she forsook her study .of the prophet^, for the more enlivening occupation of con^ versing with her prattling niece, knitting her stock- ings, andnlittens; while she .again became qui'c a rational being. Ephraim Marvin doted on this beloved daughter. His life seemed bound up in hers ; but he had too frequently witnessed the effects of capxicious inrlulr gence, not to fear its influence on the disposition of this darling of his affections. He, therefore, endea- voured, and in reality governed her, with extraordi- nary equaniniity. He curbed the ijnperious temper that already began to discover itself, and fostered the generous, open qualities, tliat giowed in her young bosom; and the little girl soon demonstrated the ef- fects of education. She grew ^ docile, amiable child ; and her ti^rbulence gave way beneath her father's influence. Evelina loved him with ardent, engros- sing affection, but feared to incur his displeasure, and a glance from her father's eye was sufficient, at any time, to check the latent appearance of way- wardness. • Theodore still continued at the Connectici^tboard- ""T. 27 ing school, increasing in statue and learning. Mr. Marvin, in the peculiar situation of hisfamily, delay- ed sending for hirn, from vacation to vacation. Time . passed away, and the lad had attained his thirteenth year: the amiable youth thought oden with the live- liest gratitude pn his protectors; and still welcomed the approach of each vacation, that he might visit them ; hut that hope, was, unaccountably to him, delayed from time to time; and the poor boy knew not what to imagine, for he dreaded to think himself forgotten. It was a very hot day in July, a ship was to be launched. Mrs. Marvin desired her husband to en- gage a carriage, and accompany her to view thtt launch. He pleaded unavoidable business. '^ You will not jgo with me? Then I shall go alone, and on foot," said the lady. , "You had better not, my dear; for the weather iB excessively hot." "I am determined on going," said Mrs. Marvin, 3 [id ui^less you engage a carriage, and accompany , I shall certainly go oh foot." * Accustomed to his wife's unyielding temper, Mar- vin thought no more of the matter, and went out to fulfil his engagements. Thp lady dressed herself; and, disregarding the extreme sultriness of the weath- er, called on an acquaintance, who lived near the launch. She returned in the afternoon, overpowered with heat, fatigue and thurst; and, after taking the pre- caution of mixing molasses and vinegar with water, drank freely ; but the water was extremely cold. It had just been drawn Troni the pump, and Mrs. Mar- vin soon felt its chilling eifects. Cold shivering fits shook her frame; and with i... assistance of the maid, " 28 .ft lir-^ olent fever. Medical advice was immediately call- ed in; but in vain. 8ho had, the preceding Sunday attended divine service, in perfect health; but, be- fore the return of the following Sabbath, she silently reposed in the church-yard. ' A melancholy stupor came over the husband. He had not lived very happily with the deceased ; still, the eternal parting was awful ! Death was not divested of its terrors. The partner of his fate ; the being so nearly connected with him, was gone, eter» Daily gone. Suddenly called away; No time allow- ed for preparation.—' Sh« had gone to meet her Judge, in her unprepared state. But God is merciful. His decrees are inscrutable. Let not man judge, that he be not judged. At the fii*st appearance of her mother's alarming illness, the little Evelina had been seijit to a much esteemed boarding school, about a mile from the ci- ty, and there her father suffered her to remain, for tlie present. But new cares and anxieties soon engrossed all hia attention. He had been lately engaged in some certain speculations. These failed ; and, notwil stancin^ all his vigilance^ his name was shortly after •n tie list of bankrupts. This new shock nearly o- vefpowered his resolution. He was walking on a wharf, that he often frequented, in the course of his business, sadly ruminating on his change of prospects; when he understood from the conversation of the master of a vessel, with a passenger, that a sloop for New-Haven would sail the next day. This attract- ed Ephraina's attention. "1 have long wished to revisit my native country," thought he, "but have hitherto wanted leisure and opportunity. At pres- ent nothing detains me in New- York, I will then re- visit my early home, and will afterwards determine on what remains for we to do," Prepargitioas wer«j ^ 39 soon made, and on tlie following day, Mr. Marvin embarked for Connecticut. The vessel glided leisurely down the Sound, Mar- vin se'ited himself on the deck. Fie gazed with a vacant eye, on tlie magnificent city, as it receded from his view. The innumerable shiips, passing and repassing, from every quarter, could not attract hig attention. The beautiful and capacious harbour, hid no longer a charm for him. Brooklin heights had disappeared, and still he remained in the same place. They passed through Hurl-Gate; but the bustle of the mariners, and roar of the contending eddies had not power to direct his attraction. " What enchanting scenery!" exclaimed a stranger, who stood beside him; "What charming country seats! Elysium has surely.been renovated in America, and located on each side of this estuary. What can boast- ed Europe produce, superior to the banks of Long- Island Sound ?" "Their wonted beauty has » ed frmn me," said Marvin, rising, and descending to the cabin, " I no ' Ioniser see a charm in any thing." pT* The following day, he was anded afNew- Haven, He made no stay in the tow i ; but took the well re- membered road to his native village. As he proce- ded, it seemed as if he y^ e transported back to the time, when he had le^ us outhfulhome. The same houses remained, o. '^e well known road. His identity was tran^orted back, several years. His thoughts sought the channel of other times ; and he proceeded forward, musing and pensive. The hum of merry voices attracted his attention. The door of a small, rude, isolated dwelling burst o- pen; and forth issued a noisy, merry throng. E- phraim Marvin paused. It was the scene of his quondam pleasure. He had entered his native vil- lage. This was the very school house, in which he 3* Li,-. -#-t ♦ ♦. 30 . f ■■:•*&■ had so often conned over his spelhng lesson, impa-, tient to be let onl. The very place, in which, when a few more years had glided over his head, he liad drank so eagerly of learning's lore, while his heart rose bi^oyant with hope ; and, after conquering some difhciilt pfoblem, he had proudly raised his head, and thought of future distinction and success, that undoubtedly awaited him, in years yet to come. He now smiled sadly at the retrospect. " My pretty lad," said he to a boy, who came hopping towards him, "what is your name?" "Hezekiah Lord, sir." Ephraim started. " Hezekiah Lord was my class- mate. And you, my fair haired boy, what are. you called?" "Nehemiah Newcobe, and here is my brother Asa, and cousin Amasa Boardman." "Am I again a little boy myself?" 'said Ephraim, "for here are all my school fellows assembled, as when I formerly played ball on this well remember- ed spot." The boys had, by this, surrounded him. "Where may you be coming from ?" said a httle black eyed fellow. v«^ "True old fashioned inquisitiveness is still, I see, a plant of the soil," said Ephraim. "But, my boy,^^ are you not David Holmes ?" "!No, David is my father's name. I' am called Samuel." "You are? But what has become of young Sam- uel Holmes? We were formerly great friends." "What, my uncle Sam? 1 guess how he is not so young neither. He has, I calculate, got some grey nairs. Here are his sons, Joshua, Moses, and Wash- ington." Marvin unconsciously put his hand to his head. He was strikingly reminded of the flight of time;' but the buzz of the boys quickly recalled him from bis abstraction. "And what i^ your school master's name, my lads?" .. z- '^ ;■ ■ ■ -u m ♦ '* "Old Master Obadiah Mason* Don't you know old Master Misoa?" "What, my old Master? Does he still keep pos- session of his school house, and his rod ?" "He holds the rod fast enough," said one of the urchins, "as I guess some of us know very well*^ There he sits, writing theboy^s copies. Will you go in and see him?" "I think I will step in, and see Master Mason; but who are you, my lad ? Your voice is familiar to me." ^'Oh, I am Ephraim Marvin. All the village knows me ; and, see yonder, how far sister Patty has got. I guess, if I an't home soon too, to drive up the cows, I shall get a lecture from dad, and a darn good one too." " Your name is Ephraim Marvin," said our trav- eller, with emotion, "give me.yourhand, my lad." "Oh, shake hands and welcome," said the boy, " and I should like very much to know who you are ; but here comes Master Mason." The venerable figure of old Obadiah was now seen, slowly approaching the circle, attracted by the unusual circums|:ance of his scholars keeping so long in a group, near the school house, after their dismis« sal from school. The boys gave way ; and he saw a stranger, who by his dress appeared a man of some importance. " Your servant sir," said Master Mason, " I guess that you are coming from New-Haven?" " Yotf apprehend right, sir. I am last from that place." " You are, I guess, from your speech, an Ameri- pan; though I calculate you don't belong to New- Haven; you come some distance, from some large^ city, not Irom Boston, I guess, but may be from New- York?" ,, " I belong to the city of New- York." "And, where may you be travelling to? You will 32 % # hot n:o much farther to ni^ht, I guess ; for the Sun is far to the west. !t will soon be goin^ down." "I am going no further than your village, Master Mason." " You know my nane, then« You have there the advantage of me." *■ Do you not remember Ephrainrt Marvin?'' "Ephraim Marvin! What, my old scholar, that 1 have heard say was nOw so great a man in New- York? You are then he ? Let me look at you ; for my old eyes are rather feeble. Yes, you are the same, tho' I 8;uess I should not have known you, had you not told me your name. You are welcome, Ephraim. Thrice welcome to Connecticut," continued the old man, shaking our traveller heartily by the hand. " 1 always foretold you would be a great genius, if they would but resign you to my tuition, and, sure enough, my calculation was just. They say, you are an Al- derman of the city of New- York ; and you were in- deed once a scholar to old Obadiah Mason, not quite so old a man then ; and as great a personage as you may be, I have held the rod over you," said the old man, chuckhng, ^'but walk in the school house, and let us talk over old times." "Another time, Master Mason. I must now pay my duty to my mother. I hope she enjoys good health." "Oh, very good. The old lady is very well. I will but finish my copies, and will then step over to Asa Marvin's. You remember the way ; but should you have forgot, here are plenty of boys, who will conduct you, and Asa Marvin's "son ^ as among them jnst now. Ephraim Marvin, where are you,? You must conduct your uncle." " Here I am," said the boy ; " You are then my un- cle from New- York. How very glad will granny be to see you, and daddy, and manrniy too, I guess* '«?- ^ * » ^3 ,4 Come, sir, let us make haste; but I will not be lec- tured for staying, now you are with me, and I guess little Asa will bring up the cows." Led by his nephew, Mr. Marvin proceeded to- wards his native farm, which, always busily engroas- ed by other pursuits, he had not visited, since he had first left its peaceful harbourage, to launch into the busy bustle of the great world. He had, since that period, passed through many differt^nt scenes ; but still, true as the needle to the pole, did the better affections of his heart, during many a solitary hour, point to his first quiet, itnambitious home ; and oflen had he almost wished he had not quitted the home- stead. And now, deprived of his hardly earned wealth, his heart yearned to his native spot. They came in sight of the farm house. Near the farm, some women were milking. "Oh, Asa has brought up the cows," said/hi» young companion, " there is Mammy ,Molly, and Pat- ty, milking them; but, come iftj Granny is in the kitchen." An old respectable looking woman, with a nice starched cap and kerchief, sat by the door knitting. "Granny, Granny, here be uncl& Ephraim, from New- York. Come in, uncle ; I'll

no moi^e." They now returned to breakiast,%<^en Ephraim felated his wife's death ; for on the preceding even- ing, be had so greatly enjoyed their rustic welcome, and congratulations, that he had forborne to arrest the display of joy, his ar -ival had occasioned, by the melancholy FCcitaK He still continued silent on the desperate state of his atl'airs; as he felt inclined to retain the consequence, he found he enjoyed, among hi.^ country people, and desired npt to excite their pity, or oommi3eration on that delicate point. Although Ephraim had never visited his father's house, since he bad first left it literally to seek his fortune, still, he bad kept up a correspondence with his mother, and brother, and had sent theiQ, and the other members of the family, n^iany httle presents. The disagreement between his wife and sister Mar- tha, had been entirely concealed from them. They knew, indeed, t^aUhe had left his house ; but thougiit that she boarded at a friend's through choice ; and, as they always thought sister Martha rather odd, this circumstance had not excited their curiosity. M: •^ I ' t'i • ... 30 Tlic motlicrliad ollen scntpressing invitations to hcT daughter, to revisit her ; but sister Martha could nev- er be prevailed on to return to her native home. The good old lady shed tears, at hearing of her daughter-in-law's fate, although she had never seen her. All the family expressed their regret, and commiserated the little Evehna, who had so early lost her mother. "But then aui)t- Martha will take good care of her," said Patty, and this suggestion consoled them. , It was Saturday. The female part of the family, were very busily employed in preparing pumpkin pies, and other luxuries, for the Sabbath dinner, which wasi, as usual, to be a cold one ; for no work, but of absolute necessity, would be performed on that holy day. EphraiijnNliad been sauntering about the farm, and confeiln, twisting a twig; he found all the family assembled in the best joMn, and his brother sitting by a table, with tlie family bible before him. "My son," said the old lady, "tlie sun is now sink- ing in the west. The Sabbath is commencing. I hope, Ephraim, the fine city fashions have not made you forget the God, who made you, and his holy day : for, remember, iny son, the Lord vill forget those, who forget him." "I see, moiher," said Ephraim, "you stiDkeep up the old New-England custom, of beginning the Sab.- bath on Saturday night." "We erdeavour to k^eep up the commandments of God, my son, and to follow the directions he has giv- en us in his holy bibie. TJiat bible infomis us, 'That the evening and the xfijprjiing, (and not the morning arti ^he evening,) were iht first day." Ephraim bowed acquiescence ; and his brother A- sa opened the venerable book. Our citizen remem- bered how oftei. be had seen it opened by his father.. A feeling of awe came over his soul. He leaned his «, 37 *" head pensively on his hands, and his thoii^ts recuf^* red back, to the days of other times. Asa Marvin then read, inrfpressively, several chap- ters from the holy book. A psalm followed, in which the family joined, with great propriety ; for they had all learned toeing at the village singing school. Asa Marvin then prayed extempore, and this con- cluded the evening } for the family retired early to hod. The next morning commenced with great serious- ness. After breakfast, they walked to the meeting house. Ephraim gave his arm to his mother, and proceeded pensively along. Again his mind recur- red to former times. The meeting house seemed just the same, as when he had last Icftit,* He seat- ed himself in the old family pew. He missed his fa- ther there ; but Asa occupied hisplate. " He is but another link in the same chain ,"tli6ught Ephraim. One generation passeth away, and another cometh. This is the way -with perishable man. A few more \>ears, and we shall liave -disappeared ; but ther» oiir places will be filled by others^ We shall -scarcely be missed. The sermon began. A stranger occupied the pul- pit. None but Ephraim missed the venerable fig- ure of the former incumbent. "His place, too," thought Marvin, "is occupied by another." The goqd old lady was pleased to see her cityison -so serious. ^ ""I see, my son," said she, as she walk- ed home, leaning on his arm, " that you still repem- bcr your -education, and have not forgotten your God, amidst the vanities of this world."i|^ A }v}entiful eold dinner wassoon spread on the ta- ble, of which they heartily partook; and they then attended afternoon service. The setting sun founA them seated4n the best room ; the farmer instruc-^ 4;ing iiis boys in their catechism, and #ie old lady 4 3« ll! holding forth to the elder part of the family, con- cerning the heinous falling away of the present sin- ful times. The sun had now sunk below the western hori- zon. The children had finished their catechism, and, bounding with the joy of recovered freedom, passed out at the door. The old lady resumed her knitting, but Continued h'er discourse, the elder part of the family silently listening to her. "Do you knit on the Sabbath evening, mother ?^* enquired Ephraim. " The Sabbath is over, my son, the sun has sunk in tiie west." " But vfiy sister and nieces do not resume their work." "We," said Mrs. Asa Marvin, "keep Saturday evening with tbd old people, and also Sunday eyei>- ing, as the ministers of the present day teach us." ^ " hinovations are fast gaining ground," said the old ]ddy, shaking her head, "the , Lord grant, they maj- be for the best." ' *^ ^■\ -m-^'"'' ■■fH * % # "^1 3r CHAPTER IV. Since in each scheme of life I've fail' J, And disappuintmcfit sueins entaiPd) O Solitude ! now give mu rest. And hush the tempest in my breast. Graiptqeo. And past those seU!er*8 haunts the eye might roam, 'tVhere carlh'a unliving sil<>nre all would seem ; ^ SavH whtre on rocks the beaver built hin domet Or buffalo remote lovv'd far from human home. CiHtiPBELTi. Ephraim Marvin rcmainec^ a week at his early home ; then became impatient : " return to his lit- tle Evelina, and to settle his busi». ss ; for he had formed a plan of conduct, which he meant steadily to pursue. After taking leave of his mother, and the rest of the family, he again sailed from New-Haven. He now meant to visit Theodore, who was at a cler- gyman's, near the boundary line, between Connec- ticut and New- York. The grateful boy instantly re- . cognized his benefactor, and flew into his embrace. Mr. Marvin found him much grown, and heard from the principal of the academy, a very favorable ac- count of his adopted son's improvement. Theodore made many enquiries conceding aunt Martha; was very inquisitive about the little girl introduced into the family, since he had left it, and wept on hearing of Mr:i, Marvin's death; but his heart bounded ^ith joy, when he understood, he was to return with his benefacior to New- York. The next day they were both landed at tlie bat- tery. Theodore could not contain his admiration of that elegant promenade. Mr. Marvin left the little Frenchman at aunt Martha's, and hastened to visit his duighter, whom he found very glad to see him, and very impatient to return to the city. The fol- io win;j; day, Mr. Marvin devoted to settling his bu?i- [ 'M' m 40 • ncss.and soon brought all his crrditors (o a comproiri' ise, as they were perfectly convinced of his lionour- abhi (loahng, and that his faihirc proceeded from un- ^ avoidable inii^fortunes; and when all w«is settled. s! they presented him witii five hundred dollars, out oi' file proceeds of the property he had delivered up fo them ; and one who had piirchaf-cd thy house, in which Mr^ Marvin resided, desired him to retain it, until beflhould have adjusted his future plans. These courtesies were balm to the wounded mind •four citizen, as they convinced him that his repu- tation was still uDsuflied in pubiic estimation. He fhen called on sister Martha, and gave her a pretty diffuse account of his visit to Connecticut. Thu good maiden was so delighted at linding her brother again so communicative, that she scarcely thouglU of condoling with liim on his failure. " But Martha, I have to begin the world onceraoro.'* ** Sure enough, brother, and what moan you to do?" ** "Sister Martha, I aro tired of the city. I am now '^ sipnsible of the little happiness, that honours and riches can yield. Aiid, independently of that con- viction, I cannot now reconcile my mind to com- mence business in the humble manner we once did, and live our former scenes oyer again. My heart has suffered much in this city. 1 must leave it. I have been ^hghted with the happiness my brother en- joys on his farm. How healthy he is ! I have been a valetudinarian these many years, but will see if health and happiness are not agaiu attainable. I will cultivate the earth." *^ But, brother, you have not a farm, nor the means of purchasing one." "Not a cultivated one; but brother Moses has suc- ceeded on new land ; and why should not I make the same experiment ? 1 was brought up to farming, and understaud it. Five years since, [ was entrusted 41 it () with the sale of ten thousfiml acres of wild land, which was disposed of, at a very low rate. It then cnmc into my mind to purchase live hundred acres (or Theodore. I had the deed made out in his name. The land, thought I, will rise in value, and may prove a little estate for the bov by the time he conges fagc. A few days after this transaction;, J^^»»|ft was bom. I then made another purcha^ife if^|||e hundred acres adjoining the first, and hadl^^^gd made out in her name. This suggested to me ffifKlea i)f providing something for the orphan boy,should any misfortune befall me. I therefore lodged five hun- dred dollars in a bank in his name, and what I did for him, I wished likewise to do for my Httle girl. I have no longer the m/ans of keeping Thectdore at a seminary; but he had sufficient eduQation for a farm- er; and, should he be fond of lea^mng, he will still have ade.^uato leisure for study. I intend fo settle on Kvelina's land, and shall make use of her five hun- dried dollars, and the five hundred my creditors have left me. Theodora's must not be touched ; but he will reside with us, and when he shall have attained sufficient age, his five hundred dollars will assist him to clear and cultiva^ his own land. In the mqan time I wi'l improve the value of Evelina's. We will enjoy it together during my life, and at my death it - shall be hcr's. If you, sister Martha, can coiisfent to go into the w^oods with us, and will once more tibfi upon you ti.e management of my house, you net"^ not dread being ever again supplanted by anoth mistress." " Consent to go ihtjo the woods ! Yes indeed, broth- er; I will go with you any wherm I am deiijghted with your plan, and trust you will not Iosq by flngi management ; for I was hkewise reared on a ^ttb j but I have no more must have been expended long siiicev 4 # 't^ m f 4 money to ^ryou; l^rinine lAe.A Innor sinfte.:" »•%♦ 42 mW, ^^ You have still a thousand dollars, Martha; lor when you left my house, I lodged your property iu a hank, where tlie interest has continued to accumu- late; but I do not now require your money. Let it remain where it is, to be at your command, in case of any unforeseen emei^ency." ** No, indeed, brother, add it to yours. We shall r^quiie ready money on new land.'' "Well Martha, you can make use of the interest, to purchase what may be necessary to tit you out for the woods; but, take my advice, and leave the prin- cipal in the bank. It will oe a corps de reserve, a-; gainst any unexpected casualty." Miss Marvin immediately commenced prepara- tions for their removal to the west. She was delight- ed with the hustle this occasioned ; for it aniused and dissipated her mind, and recalled her former ener- gies mto action. Mr. Marvin now brought Evelina- home, and in- troduced her and Theodore together, recommending to them to love each other, and ever to consider themselves as brother and sister. " You need not bid me love this sweet little girl," said the gallant boy, taking her hand, *^for 1 did so^ the first moment 1 beheld her; and the dear little Evelina shall ever find a most devoted and atfection- ate brt>ther, in the grateful Theodore." I' Do you then love me, Theodore?" said the little girl, *'well then I will love you too," and she put her arm around his neck, and kissed him. " I never saw you before, Theodore, but still 1 know you very well; for aunt Maitha has often talked to me about you." ^ "What a happy boy am I," he replied, "I have a dear little sister, andsuch kind protectors. Heaven who bereaved mc of my natural guardians, has amply repaid me for thc'»Tloss.'^ » ^ Mr. Marvin Was deliglitcd with this plcasin;^ ajr^Je- nient between them. "Ahvays love each otl.cr, my filiiMren," said he, taking a hand of each, " and)ou will matepially contributc'to the happiness of your father," Provioiisly to removing from tlie city, Mr. Marvin paid a visit to Mr, Vanderhauscm The good farm* cr received his old friend not the less cordially, thaf the news of his failure Iwd already reached him;: and he and Mr, Vanddriiausen. strove by every at- tention tO' console the bankrupt. Marrin then re-* quested of the farmer an assortment of choice seeds, that tiie goodknan prided himself much in possessing; and also, directions for using them. Vanderhauscrr iiistatitly set about making the selection, and being alone with his protegee, " I don't want to discourage you, Mr, Mervin," said he, "but am thinking yovt will iind it rather difficult to work hard, and clear new land : you that have so long lived the life of s gentleman," "Resolution and perseverance will conquer many difficulties, Mr. Vanderhausen, I was reared a far- mer, and nature endowed me with a strong consti^ tution, which has indeed been weakened by the in- activity oP a city life. Still I am confident, that air and exercise will render me robust, and restore my former healthand strength," "That may be, Mr, Marvin; yet, clearing a new farm is very hard work, and in them there new coun- tries, they say there is no such thing as hiring a hand, all being engaged in clearing for themselves ; and then, when a hand is to be had, the wages are so ve- ry high; and you will have no women folks with you but Miss Marvin, and that delicate little Evelina. Though, if you could get a black or two, with their assistance you might do pretty w^ll*" "I have not the me?uis of purchasing blacks, Mr. 44 ii! I varid^rhausen, and to hire them to come with me, w6uld be too expensive." "Well," said the benevolent farmer, "I have more of them than I know what to do with. My blacks have multiplied so fast, that they are now in iriy way; for I will not dispose of them to hard mas- ters, whom they or I know nothing about; and should I give them their freedom, that would not be doing themselves good, nor any one elSe; for I nev- er* found a negro brought up in slavery, make a good iiceman. You shall then take a couple off my hands, which will greatly oblige me. There is Lany, whose mother id dead; she has no relations in the family, and Minnv'fi daughters are continually teazing her. She thinks all the world of Miss Marvin, and took a great fancy to your little girl, when she was here with her mother last summer. Let her go. She is a smart wench of eighteen, and v^ill be t)f great service » AM these, with the family and the twa blacks^ were embarked on board a sloop for Albany. On reaching that city,^. oitr traveller purchased a strong span of horses and a Jan^e covered wagon,which entirely excluded the rain and sun. Into this the family &: baggage were arrang- ed, and away they dr»ve. Cato was now of admi- rable use ; for he had been accustomed to driving teams at Vanderhausen farm. Itwas the latter end of August, and the weather extremely warm. Mar- vin found the- heat intolerable^ and gladly reposed himself under the shelter of the wagon, while the ne- gro, enjoying the burning rays ofthe sun, drove along with high, glee, and Theodore who had contracted a great familiarity with Cato, mostly kept his seat be- side him. But the vehicle, covered as-it was, was not wUhr* out an opening, through which Marvin and his sis- ter could see and admire the cliarmiug vale, that lay on each side of th© Mohawk. At length they ar^ rived at Utica. This was in 1307; and Utica, an inconsiderable village, displayed but little prospect of the importance to which it has since arisen.. There our travellers remained several days, which Mr. Marvin employed in collecting information con- cerning his land, tlie settlers in the vicinity, &c. He Jcarnedj that it was indeed anew place, in every a^" m^ mi tG: ^ (^ptation of the term. Still his courage did not llil • t^r; for his determination was fixed, to proceed with fais undertaking. * A t Utica j they renewed their stores ; for they carri- ed their provisions along with them ; and then again set forward on their travels. They had no guide, biit drove along the high road, as the^ were directed. The first night they, found accomodations at a rude public house, and the next at a small hut, cliimsily^ Built with logs. "'dSft' the third day, the road began fb grow wild in- deed ! It was cut through the wilderness ; while, on each side of them, afose in sombre majesty, the im- mense trees of the forest, some of which had proba- bly betjrt growing shice thcfirst'subsiding of the del- uge. The underbrush, closely interwoven with the trunks, filled up each intermediate space ; while the sameness of the scene was only relieved by one oc- casional small clearing, at uncertain intervals, in which a log cabin reared its humble head. From these a number of ragged children gathered round - the door, while others filled with their heads the oth- wise vacant window frame; Young Theodore piti> ed them greatly. "My son," said Mr. Marvin, "weigh not happiness by outward glare, but by its intrinsic value. Tell those children, that you pity them, and they will wonder what you mean. They possess necessary food and wild beauty, and arc un- acquainted with any higher source of enjoymciit, These children of the forest would languish in the seminary, whore you have'been educated, Thcsro very persons arc in tbe high road to wealth. Pass this road, a few years hence, and tlie change then displayed to your view will appear the eifett of ma- gic. The manner3 of the inhabitants will then ariie- iiorate. Education and rctincmcnl, arts and scieu- cts will graduall;^. follow." 47 Theodore, wh^had a great respect for the opin^ ions of his protector, no longer pitied the Httle fores- ters ; but would gladly have sought some acquaint- ance with them, had they remained stationary a suffix cient time for him to make the attempt. The sun was fast sinking below the majestic tre©^ of the illimitable forest. The horses, fatigued wi^ their long journey, proceeded e travelling to?" It was a pedler wiut at elbow, and our garntcnts much decay- 5id, we may harangue on freedom and equality. With empty pockets, we may descant on the noth-^ ,l||ligne88 of riches. We may, if very eloquent, be perhaps attended to ; but, let a moneyed man enter, ^ and intercupt us with some trifling remark, our elo- quence will then be unheeded by all present. They will be attendmg to the votary of Pluto.- This maxim wa& displayed in the case of our new settlers. All their neighbors were willing and ready to oblige them. Self interest certainly mixed with their feelings ; for, if Mr. Marvin gave a bee, ail invited were sure to be well entertained. If he purchased any thing, or hired assistance, he was ^ure to pay in ready money* This was very satis- factory m a newly settled country, where money was very scarce. So Mr. Marvin mstantly rose in- to a man of consequence. This flattered his vani- ty, and rendered him highly pleased with his situa- tion.. Our tiew settfer and' Ks negro immediately sef* atbout preparing the partially cleared land for sow- ing a crop of winter wheat ; and, witH a little as- sistance, they actually prepared fifteen acres that season. This was a good begmning. Mr. Marvin had' high hopes of success. He felt his health and ani- maT spirits improve wifSl^c^stant 6:&ercise) and his 67 life was now unhnbittered by domestic uneasiness. On his return home from his labor, his little Evelina flew to receive her father. A blazing fire, clean hearth, and comfortable supper awaited him. Aunt Martha always received her brotlier with a cheerful smile. Ah, thought Marvin, how could I thus flit away the best years of my existence ! Hitherto I have only dreamed of happiness* Now I begin to realize it. % . * But he had constant employment', eren ailer his fall crop was sown. Every morning, with the ris- ing sun, Mr. Marvin, Theodore and Cato, set out to work. They were bufiily employed in preparing a pasture ground, and in clearing laud, on which they meant to raise, the following year, a crop of indian com, pumpkins, and potatoes, not only for family use, but also to feed the stock that was to be purchased, and of which, during fhe^rstyear, they very much felt the want. Lany was very diligent in her department, whije aunt Martha, besides superintendifig the household concerns, prepared stockings and mittens, for the whole family. Evelina was busily occupied in learning to knit and sew, and frequently ran about with Theodore. Thus the languor of ennui found no place in this dwelling, although inhabited by those who had so Mcently enjoyed the conveniences and refinements of the polished city of New- York, and were now suddenly transported into the deptlis of the wilderness. In this manner passed the winter. In January and February, great quantities of snow had fallen. The month of March had arrived. The sun was very powerful th. ough the day, but was succeeded by sharp frosts during the night, a good season jpis for making sugar. . ° '- . Cato aud Theodoro had paid a visit to a neigh- ^ 58 boring sugar-bush, and were very eager for one of their own ; but, as they were novices in the art, Mr; Marvin engaged the services of Jerr^ Bushman, a stout young fellow of the neighborhood, who jinder- took to be manager of the concern. An excellent maple bush was within a quarter of a mile's distai^e from the house. Miss Marvin and Evelina walked out, one fine day, to see the proceedings ; but, not "knowing {the way, they were soon involved in the snow, without any rneans of extricating themselves ; for the Ideat of the sun had thawed the crust, and rendered the snow so soft, that it could no longer bear them. ' Evelirtft," quite discouraged, began to cry, wheit lier aunt advised her to be quiet, and listen, if they could not discern some noise, that might guide them to the path. But all was silent. They listened in vain. Evelina again made up her face for crying^ when thie stentorian lungs of Jerry were heard, ex- claiming, " you lazy nigger you, will y wi not work ? do you then calculate for me to do every thing ? I guess then you reckon without your host. Bfinj^. along some wood and mend the fire, you nigger.- Theodore, you lazy boy, make ha§te, and bring along some sap. There now^ you black rascal, do you mean to make such a fire as to burn the sugar all up ? Throw in some sap ; be spry you fellow. What do you mutter ? I gue^s, you black niggery I have enough to do, to stir the kettle." These were joyful sounds for aunt Martha and hlEv niece. Theynowknew in what direction to pro- ceed; but they sunk in the snow at every step, and could make no progress. Evelina screamed with all her might. Prese^itly Theodore was seen, boun- ding forward. He caught her in his arms, and i?et h^r down in the beaten path, which had been con- cealed from them by the tr^es. But he could not i(:v:< ^f '%9 ■■■jm iman, a . so easily assist aunt Martha, though he endeavored to direct her in the best way to proceed, when Cato appeared with a wooden spade on his shoulder, with v^ hich he soon cleared away4;he snow, for Miss Mar- vin to reach the main path. Theodore then oiTered tj^em a ^nk of sap, from a vessel formed of birch bark, pinned together with a wooden skewer, which he took from under a tree, where it was placed for the purpose of collecting sap. After drinking of this pleasant beverage, they pro- ceeded to the sugar camp. Jerry was stirring the great kettle with much diligence. He raised his ' jcyes as they approached him. " Good day, madam, a hne time this for sugar making. Will you taste some molasses, my little gal ? Stop, I will put some to cool on tlie snow, and then it will be candy, you ■*«l ?ee ?? He threw out two or three ladies full^but continu- ed stirring the kettle, while Theodore gathered it up, and presented it to aunt Martha, and Evelina, who found it indeed excellent can4y. Spring advanced, and brought a new accession of joy to our happy family. The chesnuts, enveloped in green foliage, beautifully contrasted with the white washing of the cottage. The slope down the hill was variegated with dilFering shades of verdure, enHvened with flowers of various hues. Wild straw- *s » berries, and many other berries, put forth their bios- * soms. A beautiful green began tp cover their wheat % field. The vast surrounding forest.put on a more cheerful appearance. Great flocks of pigeons kept passing over, and proved marks for the rifles of The- odore and Cato, and subjects for the display of aunt Martha and Lany's culinary skill. But this was on- ly sport. Our farmers had to be very diligent in sow- ing their spring crop. Ms. Mar vi^i now bought a yoke of oxen, some '«p -cows, sheep, and poultry. AH prospelw^^ hiirf« Their harvest was excellent. Their poHttiy eticrea- sed. The cattle thrived. From the fleeces of the sheep was taken a store of materials for aunt Mar- tha's occupation, to furnish articles of winter com- fort for the household. Several swarms, pf bec^ which they procured, multiplied very fast, and fur- nished an abundant supply of honey for home con- sumption. The settlers encreased fast around them. Thh land rose in value, and appearances seemed to prog- nosticate, that Ephraim Marvin would in a few years, be a much richer man, than he had ever been before. In the course of the ensuing summer, Mr. Marvin was appointed a captain of militia ; and in the follow- ing year, received a commission of the peace. Cap- tain Miirvin now found himself a man of greater consequence at.Tonnewonte, than alderman Marvm had ever been at New- York. lii: ^'ir ■w # « 4!^. M-' ■■*>- 61 ^CHAPTER VI. O saj, what language can reveal Th* exalted pleasures you must feel^ When, fir'd by you, the youthful breast Disdains to court inglorious rest. Ai|d to the world's admiring gaze, ' '^ YCach precept into action brought^ ' til fuil reality displays The libm ai masiois you have taught! RoscoB. ^SQUIRE Marvin had been four years settled at Tonnewonte. He was now a man of substance , and had he been as near to market, ^rould scarcely have yielded to farmer Vanderhausen himself. He had upwards of an hundred acres cleared. His farm was well stocked, and he had ev^ry thing iii plenty around him. His outward expenditure was very lit- tle ; for his provisions, except a few trifling luxuries, were all raised on the farm. Every year some new trees of his young orchard bore fruit; for he had planted it, on his first settlement, and had, for that purpose, bought the most tltriving plants, that could be procured from the old settlements on the lakes. He had this year made a little cider, and soon ex- pected to make it in greater abundance. Our new settlers also raised flax, and their sheep supplied wool, out of which the family clothing, bedding, (S:c. was manufactured at home. Cato and Lany were married ; and two little black recruits promised in a few years, to assist in mana- ^ ging the farm. It was now high time to erect a more capacious, and elegant Mansion. Upon Theodore's laud there was a good site for a mill, on the same stream that ran before the house. Here capt. Mar- vin liad caused a saw mill to be erected, and had laid by the choicest timber, for building a new dwelling 5 and he now built a capacious two stoiy frame house, 6 %f^ i:!i li 62 on the eminence, in front of the old log buildia|;, which then served to lodge the negroes in. This mansion was painted white, and aUnt Martha had palisades planted down to the hrook's edpe. They enclosed the flower garden, in which Evelina and iier aunt cultivated all the variety of Flora^^s kin^ dom, that they could procure. Cherry, plum and peach trees were also scattered through the* garden, .^ihd currant hushes planted against the palisades. The gigantic chesuuts still remained, overshadowing the house, and the whole, from the opposite side of the hrpok, ha^l a very pleasing effect. Theodore was now a fiqe, tall youth' of eighteen, full of coui:?ige and activity, and Evelina had attain- ed her thirteenth year. Capt. Marvin bestowed aU his intervals of leisure on the education of this dar- ling of his affbctions, and for this he was very comr petent, for to a strong mind, and good abilities which Ixehad sedupusly cultivated, capt. Marvin now join- ed knowledge and experience of the world. He soon discovered uncommon abilities, anjd quickness of perception in his little Evelina, and sufficient so- lidity, to engraft solid knowledge on her ductile mind. During the long winter ^vjenings, Theodore pur- sued, nnder jthe direction of his benefactor, those studies, he had commjenced at the academy. In mathematics and hi&tory capt. Marvin was a profi- cient; and Theodore had made great progress un- der his instruction. The study of his natiye tongue had formed part of the youth's school education. He still spoke it fluently, and taught it to Evelina. The amiable girl was likewise making considerable pro- gress in her education. Jler father strove to render net superior to the Dears and littleness, too often pre- valent in many of her sex; and he thought that a mind well stored with useful knowledge would teach i|er to ^onlemn th.e idle tittle tattle and inclination A^ •-^a* ibr scandaf; that so many employ, as a subterfuge fer' killing time*' It has already been observed, that she' possessed great strength and decision of mind. This, her father apprehended, might without proper cul- ture, degenerate into materials for forming a shrew. He had therefore, from her earliest infancy, endeav- oured to render her gentle and docile ; and he had gradually effected his purpose. As she grew older,; he taught her to regulate and check all excess of temper; and, to illustrate precept by example, he' displayed to her many instances of the fatal effects" of ungovernable temper; and taught her to regard what is generally denominated getting in *' posses- sion," ,as the mark of a w6ak and little mind, inca- pable of restraining its (!bullitions. Evelina had suf- licient powers of intellect to profit by tliese instruc- tions, and would have been as much ashamed at be- ing caught in a passion, as though sh6 had been guil- ty of some act of meanness or illiberality. Capl^ Marvin had brought with hini a choice se- lection of books. To these, Theodora had unlimi- ted access ; and Evelina read those that were re- commended by her father. With these advantages, and disadvantages, our two youths, reared in the western wilds, possessed perhaps more real inform- ation, than the most forward scholar, in any mod- etn academy. These studies, as has been before related; were mostly prosecuted during the winter evenings; b\it capt. Marvin took every opportunity of exciting their thirst for information; and aunt Martha, who imbi- bed all her brotbei^s opinions, and had resusitated to her better self, since she had sO' happily presided at Tonnewonte, co-operated in all hisp|^|brtheit' educatioji and improvement, until the J^i&d- grown *o interwoven with her own ideas, that they seem- ed also to have emanated from her. m-' ;■# €r f 64 T' i Theodore one cr.^ning consulted the (iaptain, o# the propriety of studying a ti\ atise on tactics, that had fallen into his hands. "You do well, my sort," sakl his honefactdr "to prosecute any means of information, thut niay fall ia your way. ^ Though, to a superficial observer, if might appear folly for a backwoodsman to be em* })loycd iji studying tactics; yet a more reflecHng -mind would observe, that this same youth, may in some imk rseen exigency, by the information thus acquired, prove of j^^reat btniei&t to himself and oth-i ers. V\ e. my children, live in a country, where the meanest* citizen may nrpire to the highest honouj's, witiiout having his bir?i: commented on to his pre- judice. ,|n America, we have no real diystiction, ex- cepting education; foi^itis one of the principles of onr conslitulion, 'Th?kjfeall men are bom free and equal.' Yet, it is an equality of rightii, and not oC ci- :umstances oi success in life. Reflect, my chil- dren, and you wiii observe a great difference between* man anrl man. This mostly results from education, though vieive have been exceptrions. Some great minds have suddenl}' emerged from the greatest ig- norance and obscurity, into the most dazzling paths ofgiory; but such splendid meteors are rare. We, my children, if we wish to be prepared to act with honour in every contingency, must steadily pursue all the means of information, that lie in our power." It was not only the mind of his daughter, that en- grossed the attention of capt. Marvin. He wished l^er to possess health, bodily activity, and courage. He, therefore, incited her to learn to ride, and con- troul the wildest horses, to run with swiftness, to ac- company himself and her brother (for so he was cal- led) in excursions round the woods, and to see with cajmness the sudden appearance of any wild animal. Under the guidance of her father, and of Theod(W:e,. 65 r.velina also become quite dexterous in the use of rife nrms. Nor were her household acquirements neglected. She could spin, knit, and sew with r ich Ijxterity, and manage the household affairs nearly as well as aunt Martha; while Theodore was «§ active and industrious, and as good a farmer, as any youth in the western settlements. The » ffices of magistrate and captain of militia, he(d by Mr. Marvin^ necessarily obliged him to have onsiderable communications with his nei^bours, who all respected him; But aunt Martha had never been fond of occasional society. The only compa- jiy in which she enjoyed herself, was that of her own family; yet she received the visits of their neigh- bours with great civility and complaisance : and oc- casionally returned a formal visit, upon a formal in- vitationi This greatly enhanced the respect paid her ; andj in the minds of the females of the vicini- ty, the idea of a highly finished lady, and that of Miss Marvin in her black satin gown, were so close- ly blended, it would have- been difficult to have sep» arately analysed them:^ The young people were more sociable. Theo- dore and Evelina often assisted at quilting parties, paring frolics, &c. when they pared the peaches, or apples, with equal dispatch^ and, after the allotted quantity was finished, played at pawns with as much: animation, as any Miss, or youth in the vicinity; and Evelina could quilt with any full grown young wo- man, while Theodore, with some other smart beau,, trould thread the needles; and, when the quilt was roiled up, they both danced with the highest glee, and greater gentility than any other of the company; for Evelina was all native grace, and Theodore, who ' had learned to dance at his academy, had instruc^d h^s little sister in the first steps of the art. One fine winter evening, the year after tlif build*-- ae i ing of their new house, aur^t Martha was prevailed on by her neice, to accompany her a«d Theodore to a husking, at a wealthy farmer's. Theodore bro't his new one horse cutter to the door, and assisted aunt Martha to get in, while Evelina sprang in light- ly, by their side. The road lay througi the midst of the forest; but the moon shone bristly, and its lustre was reflected, hy the dazzling whiteness of the snow. The horse and sleigh bounded lightly over the level road. The good Mrs. Baxter received them with great pleas- ure ; and, after assisting to dismantle Uiem, in her lai'ge sitting room, conducted her guests into the roomy kitchen, which was stowed full of Indian corn, which a merry party was disencumbering of its husks. { Aunt Martha was received with great respect^ The most commodious recess in the com, was as- signed to her, as a seat; and they all again cheerful- ly prosecuted their employment, while the merry joke went round, and cider and apples were distri- Duted as refVeshments. They very early finished husking the heaps of corn, and then adjourned to the sitting room, where a large tea-table was set' out, loaded with apple pie, and peach pie, pumpkin pie, and custard pie, stew- ed apples, and dried peaches stewed; warm bread and butter, and cold bread and butter; dough nuts, . and sweet cake, and cakes of every description. Of these luxuries the guests all partook heartily. The table was then cleared away, when a fiddler made his appearance, and the younger part of the compa- ny merrily danced to the music. At length aunt Martha signified to Theodore, that the moon would soon be down, and they had best taite advantage of its remaining light to return heme. The cutter was soon brought ta the door. Aunt 67 Martha and EveJina embarked, and with them Phoebe Ann Anderson, a young girl who lived next to the Marvins, and whom they were to set down at her father's. Theodore, all animation, drove rapidly along, conversing goily with the ladies, when the cutter, shooting down a hill, was suddenly checked with the shock, and both its shafts snapped ofTshort . How to proceed, was now the difficulty. They were stilt tVve miles from home ; but the log house of a new settler, was only at half a mile's distance. Theodore first taking the precaution of tying the horse to a tree, ran off, promising to return in a few moments with an axe and naila^ to repair the frac- tured shafts. The night was cold ; the moon fast declining, and the ladies closely wrapt their cloaks around them^ with a wish that Theodore might soon appear. Sud- denly Phoebe Ann gave a loud shriek, and covered her head. The ouiers gazed eagerly around, but their attention was presently arrested by a large bear, that was advancing towacds them, followed by a cubk The rugged eoiimal glared at them with fiery eyes. The shriek had attracted her attention, and _ she was approaching with rapidity. ^'She will devour us,'' said aunt Martha, with seeming composure, ^'there is no help, but in th« *Lord." v^' Evelina hastily aroset Her foot stumbled over (he rifle, tlis$ Theodore seldom stirred without, on foot, or in his sleigh. She caught up the gun, and point- ed it towards the animal. She drew the trigger. It flashed in the pan. The bear glared ^riously at sight of the flash ; and growling, approached towards them. EveKni^ caught up the powder horn, primed the piece anew, and took aim again. The muzzle almost touched the bear* She &Qd* The ball pier- 1:1 iiJ m mi as feed the animal's head, and it fell hawling on the ground. Our young American hastily re-loaded the piece ; for 8he knew in what part of the sleigh The- odore kept his amunition. The cub began licking its dam, and Evelina, with the gun in her hand, kept her eyes fixed on the territic pair. Theodore, alaimed by the report, appeared bmmd- ing forward. "The rifle has then gone. off," cried he, "how careless was I to load it, when m many la- dies were in the sleigh ! But none of you can be hurt ; for the muzzle was so placed, that it' could not pos- sibly injure ony one in the cutter." ]i!velina turned tewards bim. " O, you have the gun, Evelina. It was then a frolic of yours." She pointed to tke bears. "Gracious Heaven," exclaim-^ ©d the youth. "You may thank God," said aunt Martha, "whO' inspired Evelina with courage, to shoot the wild* beast, as it was springing to seize her." Theodore cast on his young compatuon, a look of admiration. "My brave little sister." "Any person would have done the same in self defence," said the young girl. "Danger would'^ make a coward" brave."^ " It would rather deprive him of his fac\ilties," replied the youth, "but give me the gun. The cub» may become troublesome, while I am mending the' shafts." He then shot the young acnimal througb the head j when it fell dead by the side of its dam. Phoebe Ann gave another shriek. They turned to her. She was in violent hysterics, and had been so, during, the whole agitating scene. The Sorse, accustomed to the sound of fire arms, had not broken his fastening, although he had«been very restless, since the first appearance of the sb^g- C9 ^ aTiimal. Theodore endeavoured to quiet liimi^ und hastily patched His shafti, while aun^ Martha and Evelina, by much soothing, partially recovered Phoebe Ann. TFftiy then drove on, and leaving their companion at ner father^s soon arrived home : when Theodore, taking Cato with him, hastened back, in a light sled, for the slain bears. > At breakfast, the following moniine, capt. Mftr« vip was informed of the adventure ofthe preceding night. ^'I am pleased with your presence of mind, my dear Evelina,'' Raid he, ^^ I should not^ indeed, like to see my daughter an Amazon; but I wish her to possess fortitude, and true courage, to be able to distinguish between aggression, and self defence; and to have always sufHcient presence of mind, to repel any sudden danger, that may not surpass her;^ strength." Sometime after this, a neighbour came to infomr" them, that^^ Friend Hannah Reeves, from Pluladel- phia, who was making a visit of love, round th%r western country, would, God willing, exhort that evening, at Farmer Jones'." At this information,. Cato was directed to harness the two horse sleigh, and capt. Marvin, aunt Martha, Theodore, and Ev-- elina enr>barked^ and dro^ e to the meeting. - An elderly Quakeress was seated between two elders, in the largest room in the house, which was nearly tilled with people of various appearance, col- lected from all the neighbourhood, which term in^ eluded a circuit of several rniles.> The deepest silence reigned in the apartment,, when the- female preacher arose, and delivered a sensible discourse, strictly scriptural. By degrees,, warmed with the importance of the subject, she kindled into enthusiasm.. The hearts of her audi-^ ence were affected, their consciences awakened,, and many retired with a resolution to amend their' TO Attire liv«B, ftticl endeavour to makd their p^be with Heaven* Our party entered the sleigh in a niore thdught- ful mood, than they had left home* Capt. Marvin Had been frequently and powerfully awakened ttf* religion, in very early life; but his mind-, naturally^ reserved, was particulaHy averse to discover its in- ward workings to others; so that- as he advanced in life, and had his attention withdrawn to other pur^ suits, the change was scarcely perceived by his most intimate associates, as he uniformly preserved the most ri^d morals, and the greatest propriety of de^ mieanor* When he left Connecticut^ ambition be- gan to dislodge religion from his heart* With tm* proved opportunity, he explored a more liberal tield iOf study; and experience of mankind gradually dis- played to him, many hitherto hidden recesses of the buipan heart. . Thi^ Weakened his l>elief in many things, that he'^ had formerly considered as sacred; but, with the mists of superstition j and trammels of sect, he drop- ped much of the vitality of religion; and during his career of prosperity, was little more than in name a christian,- though he constantly attended public worship. But, often his retreat to the wood?, du« ring the many hour» of solitude that he was obliged to spend amid the deep loiielinesL* of the wilderness, the early recollections and associations of his child- hood returned, with redoubled force, and he was powerfully recalled from nature's works, to nature's God. In these hours of solitude, he found a vacuum his heart j tibat religion alone could fill; and he m endeavoured to tind her. But still his opinions on the subject were, like his personal character, not perfectly similar to that of any other individual. No place of worship had yet been built, in the settlement'; but this caused little anxiety te capt. Marvin. He was content, like the Israelites in the time of the Judges, ^4o worship God under the shade of his own fis-tree.^* He often derived much satllfrc- tion from the discourses- of itinerant preachers, of different denominations, who frequently parsed thro' the new settlements. Capt. Marvin's house was always open for their reception, and liis best room was occasionally appropriated, as a place of meet- ing; yet the owner chose not tpjoinanyofthe asso- ciations they established. Capt. Marvin wished to infuse religion into the hearts of his pupils ; 'but he wished to establish her there, free from superstition and party rancour. His instructions were consequently rather indefinite, but calculated to excite the attention of the young, ardent and enquiring minds, that he was endeavour- ing to inform. They connected what their father, for whose opinivins they had a great respect, taught them, with what they heard from the different prea- chers, who came to the settlement, and each formed a little code of their own. Aunt Martha's opinions were also singular, and Father tinctured with her former close study of the prophecies, but her religion was sincere, and had »ow assumed a much more cheerful cast, and her sentiments, originally elevated, had become more natural and consistent, during her present dwelling with her brother, when they mutually studied to at- tain the most efficient mode of education for their Amiable pupils. "72 CHAPTER Vn. *• Blow, ye winds ! ''Tp wav^B ! ye thunder^ ! loll your tempest on ; ) 8h'ikp, ye old pillars of the oiarbie sky! Then let (he tiiai come ! ai>d witness then. If terror be upon me ; if 1 Khrink To meet the storm, or falter in my stren^tb* When hardest it foescte me. Du not think T'lat [ am fearful and infiroa of «oul, As late thy eyes beheld. Akenside. AMIDST these avocations and amusements, the •summer arrived; and one fine morning, a young neighl)our< brought Theodore the pleasing intelli- gence, that the great house at Fair-Valley was again inhabited, and William Parker arrived with his family. Fair- Valley lay about five miles from Marvin farm. A pleasant stream ran through the midst, which, after a few more windings, emptied itself into Lake Erie. Mr. Parker, a merchant from Philadelphia, had purchased a large tract ^f land upon speculation. On examining his purchase, he was struck with the. 'beauties of this delightful vale, and built there a handsome country seat. He spared no expense in improvements on the land, which he retained in his rown hands ; while he leased out the reat, on terms very advantageous to the tenants, to induce them to settle there. It was Mr. Parker's delight, 'during the months of July and August, to retire from business, and amuse himself in this reti gat with rural employ- ments. During the last two summers of his life, he had brought his nephew William with him. Mrs. Parker's excessive fondness for her son would not perhaps have permitted this, but «he knew his un- cle was wealthy, and liad no cliildren ; and, altho' 73 >^iniam was alrea«ly possessed of a large estate in Maryland, well stocked with m^groes, yet tiie pru- dent mother, thought an accession of fortune not a mere m itter of inditference. Young Parker was then permitted to accompany his uncle i% Fair- Valley, where his health was at least as much im- proved as his fortune ; for the bhnd fondness of his mother had reared him in the greatest delicacy. Mrs. Parker was the widow of an opulent plant- er, whose well cultivated plantation lay on Chesa- peake bay. He had died when William was but ten }ears old. The widow could not trust her only child at a boarding school. A tutor was therefore procured, and the lad profited by his studies as much as boys so situated generally do. He studied when he pleased, and when he did not feel dispos- ed for application, his mother desired that he niight be excused. If William, at eighteen, was not learned, he was at least superlicially acquainted with every thing, and when he chose to display his acquirements, would astonish his mother and her companion Mrs. Maxwell, with his surprising erudition. But, what was most prejudicial to William, was the abject servility of his numerous slaves, over whom lie exercised the most unbounded despotism. Accustomed to command in every thing, he con- cryived his will to be an indisputable law; and, though gentle, when unresisted, he was extremely irritable, and violent, when his inclinations were opposed. Yet, born with a good natural disposi- tion, William Parker still retained many amiable (pialities. He had contracted acquaintance with Theodore, during his occasional residence at Fair- Valley. William was extremely fond of rambling through the woods with his new companion, and as fond of calling at Marvin house. The family 7 m% '?.■■" ; ■ .. Y ■«!' ' m 'k f^ '& fxf- ^\ ^f ■ t' ■J f. '■ \i ■ -■ // m^ ffr'M a- ^' A /4 i'ii^ii ' ( ii' i lh='l 11 .1' llicre, so difiercnt from what he had hcen accus- tomed to, highly interested his curiosity, as well a« his better feelings. His emulation was also excit- ed, to equal his hack country friend, and this spirit of excitement had produced on him much good ctilBCt. The elder Mr. Parker had now bade adieu to the hopes and fetors of this world. He had left I'oir- . A'ailcy,. with all its appurtenances, to William Par- ker, and his mercantile concerns to another nephew, -who had been bred to business in his house. William had with much entreaty, prevailed i>n his mother to accompany him to take possession of Jiis new estate. He extolled the beauty of the place, '" and' its vicinity to the Niagara P'alls, the grand re- 'sort of fashionable curiosity. He praised the good effects this jaunt, would probably have, in bracing her nerves, and fortifying the general debility ol" frame, of, which she was constantly complaining. Mrs. P'arker would have preierred an excursion to some fashionable eastern medical spiing; but Will- iam would not be disappointed in his favorite scheme, and Mrs. Parker could not pursue her plan vuiaccompanied by her son, and at length, worn out by his importunity, she acquiesced, and the family, consisting of Mrs. Parker, her conqjanion Mrs. Max- well, who was a. widow, and a distant relation of tbe former, master William, and several housel^old ne- jgro^s, had now arrived at Fair-Valley, ^ Theodore hastened over to visit his friend W^ill- lam, the latter returned with ,iiim, and was kindly received by aunt Martha. The southern youth was much struck withtlie improvement the last year had eliected on the person of Evelina, and comphment- ed her so highly, that she blushed with surprize; for, totall} unaccustomed to fashionable ^hyperbo- iism, she was at a ios*^ '<< conceive his meaning. if: IJ Jt mutual cxchaiige of compliments, through the medium of the young men, passed between the la- dies of both families ; bat aunt Martha could not. be , prev^iiled upon to call on Mrs. Parker. Early one line morning, Theodore with his gun n\ hand, called at the Valley, and, after breakfast, he and William set out on a rambling expedition, their pockets well stored with provisoris. They met with game, and were so eager in the pursuit;' that the meridian sun still found them in the forest. The brilliant luminary was slowly sinking be- neath the western lakes. The afternoon had been extremely sultry. Scarcely a breath of air could be inhaled. Ail nature seemed in a torpor. The wild animals fled to the highest eminences. There they extended their parched tongues and distended nostrils, to inhale the vital principle of corporeal existence. A few birds fluttered their wings high aloft in the air, then sunk involuntarily on the ex- tended branches of the motionless trees, apparently through want of capability in the air to support them. Nature alone was discerned, nature wild, grand, terrific, undebased by the petty efforts of art to improve the splendid designs of the great Archi- tect of the universe. The surrounding stillncr.s'" continued. It chilled the vital powers of animation, with a shivering Fcn- sation of undescribabie sublimity. Suddenly Tlie-* oxlore discharged his fowling piece. All nature- seemed to start"' into a chaos of confusion. The noise reverberated from rock to rock, in apparently endless succession. Echo caught tlie sound, return- ed and prolongued it, in every direction. Myriads of the feathered choirstarted, from the heavy foliage of the forest, and fluttered over the deep hollow, from whence the disturbance proceeded. The star- tled deer bounded through the glades. The bear :i\^ liir' ill njf>hed irom hlsden. Wild discordant cries encreas- ed the agitation, and tumult succeeded the apathy, that a moment before seemed to pervade the sur^ rounding scene^ On the tirst explosion, a partridge fell from a tree. Theodore sprang foiward, and cauglit it up. ''Are you mad, Theodore," said Wil- liam, '• to stop to shoot now ?" "We have then been mad all day," said Thea- dore, as he paused to attnch the partridge to the bunch of game that wus slung over his shoulder. ''But, ha\e we not game enough?" cried William, "Hark! is not that the howling of a wolf / He wiil dif^cover us." "We have arms to defend ourselves," said Theo- dore, loading his fowling piece. '"Let us return home," s^aid Uk"" southern youths ''for a storm is appioaching, and w<3 may perish in this wilderness;" and he liastened up the sleep ac- clivity, that lay l»efore him. Theodore followed with a firm stept and intrepid air. His black eyes triione with the lustre of excitement, while his hand brushed aside the dark locks from his sun burnt face, as, on reaching aneimnence, he turned to view the ifcCene that lay behind him. His companion cried «ut, with impatience, "make haste, Theodore, the storm is a})proaching." The latter sprang foi-ward and joined William, whose tall, slender frame, and delicate complexion, seemed, as he leaned against an oak, mmble to cope with the approaching ter- i^r?. Iheodore again paused, he gazed eagerjy around. "What a vast, sublime scene," he exclaimed. " What a terriiic one," said his light haired com- panion. " How awfully grand ! How sublimely terrific !" ciied Theodore. '* See that streak of light. Ob- serve those two portentous clouds, 'j'hey meet u 77 and encounter, like th(^ thrcltenin^'; approach of two hostile armies, ready to decide the fate of em- pires. They iiioet! They explode! How awful is the roar of Heaven's artillery! The scene is too g\c;it for mortal powers. Tt transports me beyond this tcrrestial ball !" He turned to his com- panion, but soon forgot his entlmsiastic rapture, when he beheld the livid paleness of undisguised terror, that overspread the face, and trcmble in a hol- low, at the foot of a steep hill. Theodore gazed a- round, with the ardent admiration of youthful intre- pidity. The scene was indeed awfully yublime. The sun had disappeared. The uncertain dimness of twilight, was momentarily illuminated, by the vi- vid flashes of lightning, that played among the bran- ches, until the foliage appeared embodied with the electric fluid, and formed a splendid blazing forest. From the opposite hill, rushed a foaming cataract, which formed, at their feet, a perpendicular cascade, tliat, illumined by the lightning, seemed a splendid sheet of lire. The dashing of the waters forming a cadence to the tremendous peals of thunder, that shook the hills, while echo prolonged the intermin- i^Ud sounds, in wild repetition. Sudlfenly a most violent clap of thunder burst over their heads, and the rain descended in torrents. "We cannot reach home tonigh^,'' said William, Theodore turned towards him, and was moved by the paleness of his companion's countenance, whirh another flash of lightning exposed to view. His oyei m 7* '•;; ' .l!l!f .'!,!. 7B ear^erly soui;ht relief, and another flash discovered to him a cavity in the rock; when, taking; the arm of William, they entered the recess. Twilight had BOW pa^ped away; anfe, "and we may here pass the night, safe a Sid drv. Fortunately we have refreshments with us, ^l^:^ William, what can we wish for more?" "\ ou a!r«i a hrave young mxm, Theodore Marvin, you fear nothing." "You are there mistakek., my friend. "Jc crains^ Dieu, cher Ahner." Yet 1 hope that I may confident- ly add, "et n'ai pas d'autre crainte." "You may, indeed," said his companion, "you see nothing but delight, where others see but death and I error." "Surely." said Theodore, "the countrymen of the immortal Washington, ought to be familiar with dan- ger. '5_ -A pause succeeded. "Theodore." iaid the blue eyed youth, "I would not be a coward for an enr i-'re* i hope I have not so basely degeneraled from our brave fathers, who urchased liberty with th ■ ' lives. Yes, I could I kce death, unappalled, in defence of my country; but these tn mendous storms unman me. I cannot raise my head, against the artillery of Heaven. I feel as if supernatural powers were then leagued a- gainst man. My nature recoils from thunder and lightning with an inward unconquerable sensation ©f dread." "it is an unfortunate malady," said Theodore.- 2/ 79 "Perhaps I owe it to my mother," said William^ thoughtfrliy, "you know how delicate she is. Her terrors at thunder and lightning arc invincible. She never restrained them, nor concealed them from mcr Brought up with her, 1 imbibed her fears." "I have no mother," ejaculated Theodore. "And your atmt Mirrtha is not a person to com- municate terror," replied the Mai-ylander, " 1 be- lieve she never felt it. What cotirage have not your uncle and nunt infused into that little cousin of You are an extraordinary family." yours " My uncle and aunt are^both respectable," said Thcoddre. " But, my friend, let us not forget onr (gupper. Perhaps you may make shift, for once, t6 eat not only unattended by your slaves, but also in the dark." Ouryomig backwoodsman then emptied his pock- ets. His companion followed his example. Tlie thunder had ceased ; but the rain continued. They eat with appetite ; and, after drinking the remains of a small flask of wine, that William had provided, they extended themselves on the rock, and fatigued with their previous exertions, soon fell a sleep. The sun was just emerging from the eastern ex- tremity of the lakes. Its first rays, striking the rain drops, seemed to transform them into as many gems, when our two youths appeared on a large wind-fall, that formed a rustic bridge across a swollen brook. They darted foward along a narrow path, th^t wound through the forest. Theodore seemed all elasticity. William proceeded gaily along; but the redness of his eyes shewed that he had slept the preceding night on a harder couch than he was ac- customed to. They paused near a clearing. "Will you come and breakfast with me?" said William. " You had better come with me, and partake cf I k #F N'4 . \ hi ,^^B. 80 '^!ii' kV " iri. ik'''-' -4ome refrcslimcnt at our house," replied his Com- panion, "a few minutes will bring us there. We have already travelled several miles this morning; for our yesterday's sport led us a long circuit. A cup of codec will, I think, be very refreshing, ami enable you to return at your ease, to Fair- Valley." ** But, my mother, I am now very anxious, lest my last night's absence should have alarmed her. Per- haps ^he has not been sensible of it ; but should I not appear at breakfast, her alarm will know no bounds." '^True, William, hasten home, and I must also re- lieve my friends from whatever anxiety they may have experienced on my account." The youtihs were moving forward, when a negro appeared on horse back. " Oh, massa William, massa William! datbe you, mdced; tank God! tank God!" "Why! What is the matter Dominic ?" " You be thcii alive, massa William ? All the fam- ily fear very much to find you dead." "And my mother?" "Oh, misse no know you be gone, all Jiight. The storm frighten misse to, dat she go to bed ; but misse * Maxwell afraid that misse ask for you, . She send me most every where. They be gone all night. Mis- se Maxwell up early. She say to me, I can't rest, Dominic. Misse will soon awake; take horse,, Dominic ; hurry to massa Marvin, and see if massa ' William be there.^ So here you be, tank God..i Gome massa WiHiam, hurry home." "Good morning, Theodore," said the young Ma- rylaiider, as he mounted the horse. "Dominic, yoa may follow at your leisure.^' Theodore hastened through the woods. In a field - near the house, Gato was at work. " God bless yor^, luassa Theodore," said the negro, as his young mas- WT' at ^^ ^a^. , tcr approached. The youth paused. *1t does me good to see you, this morning, mas e'^ 83 ^•Tt gives nic pleasure, Theodore." replied aunt Marthii^ ^' to hear that you can bear !»uch depriva- tions without detriment to your health; but I should have thought that the dehcate manner in which Mr. P;uker has been reared, would have render' nC poor accomodations of your £ave very incon 'il to him." "He had not time to think of that, dear aiiu .jv ho was the first to fall asleep, and 1 was not many minutes awake." • "Fatigue is indeed the hest couch-maker," said aunt Martha, "but come in. My bvolheris waitmg breakfast, which will, 1 think, not prove unaccep- table to Theodore." Mrs. Parker was seated on the piazza the follow- ing morning, enjoying the cooling breeze, when Wil- Ti'din hastily approachcil, carrying his fowling piece. "When, mother, are you to pay ^our tirst visit to Mr. Marvin's /"enquired the son. " Why, William, am I not a stranjijer here? And is it not their duty first to call on m<^ /" "You forget, mother, that Miss Marvin is loo old (o walk five miles, for a morning call, and that she no longer rides on horseback. They keep no car- jitiges, and her niece is too young to pay a visit, un- accompanied by a chaperone. And, mother, did not Miss Marvin send her compliments by her Jicphew, and that she would be very happy to see you at tlieir house, and entertain you in the best manner she could." "An old maid and a child are then the only com- pany in our reach, at this blessed seat of yours, Wil- liam/" "As for company, madam, there are seveml very genteel families witliin a dozen miles of us, autl you have excellent hoi"?es; but, believe me, you will iind nosociety so agreeable as that of the Marvin's, r IMAGE EVALUATION TEST TARGET (MT-3) 1.0 I.I l^|Z8 |2.5 ■"IS 2.0 18 1.25 |||.4 III 1.6 < 6" ► Photographic Sciences Corporation 23 WEST MAIN STREET WEBSTER, N.Y. 14580 (716) 872-4503 •NJ I' ■4. V S4 ■■\ They are none of your common place folks. Wm Marvin is- iuiclligeni and respectable. Capt; Mar- vin is anmn of consequence in these part^. You h^e seen Theodore; but, ah mother, you hayeney- €?t' seen Evelina." fl must then see Evelina," said Mrs. Parke?, "iwe wilFgo to-morrow." '■'^- ■'■' j " 1 shall then present your compliments, mother, ai I call for Theodore, and say that you.will to-mor- fpw do yourself the pleasure of callingon Miss^Mar- vih," said William hastening down the steps. *' William, William," cried his mother, '^you will T#urn to dinner ;" but William was out o[ sight. The following day, a pleasure wagon, contain- 'ih2 Mrs.-Papker, her son and Mrs. MaxweH, tt&d Jt dnven by a negi'o, stopt at Marvin house. They %i^ere expected. Capt. Marvin and Theodore band- Jk #«ed the ladies out, while aunt Martha and Evelina received them at the door. The first compliments ^ ^ orver, Mrs. Parker felt embarrassed with the brother and sister, and turned round with a sensation jof^e- # lief to the pre-possessing appearance of -^the young # Evelina. After due praisehad been bestowed on the house, farm, &c. mostly by the obsequious Mrs. Maxwell^ ** You Hve very retired," said Mrs. Parker. ^ '" Yes, Madam," replied aunt Martha. '* I. have ' little communication with the settlers, exceptiDg ^ the mutual offices of neighborly kindness, that pass between us. But my brother has more intercourse with our neighbors, and tlie young people are more ^cial." "There are, I fear, but few genteel families in ti^^eighborliood," observed Mrs. Parker, ** you were fkfobably ignorant of that circumstance, Capt. Marvin, wFien you formed an establishment here." *' Wc made no enquiry ^,^ie subject," replied the -t «i .V''' J B5 3|n«» captain. ^But, IMBsi MIfrvin, are you not ibnd companj P^A- woman^f My, versed in^ the c caption i»f the world, may well have loot all refis^ for promiscuous society, especially when enjoying' as mucliluLppiness a»l do, in the hosom of our oif||it^^ family," replied the maiden. '' You possess a treirp. sure," said her visitor, '*1n your toiiable niece, wlUiJ, will soi^ be of sufficient Ige to share your conn^ fidence.^ , 1"^ " Our children," replied Miss ' l^arvin^ " hav<^J' indeed be^ a great source of satisfaction to lajf^ brother, and myself^ Evelina is verging fast ^<*4j' wards W'Oinanhood. She will soon have completed her fpulfteenth year." y. "Would i had a daughter," said Mrs. Parker.* " Her company wdUld be a great relief to the irk*^ . someness of solitude, in which I have to spend so much of my time." " You generally live in the country ?" observed ^unt Martha. ^ " Yes, Mfl^dam, I was brought up on a plantation,' and only removed from my fathei%1||puse, to that of # my hu^and. I bu^ seldom visit cities, and then ^'c^ return home with much satisfaction ; for it is there ^^ fl I most feel my consequence. At hoiAe every one* looks up to me, and I then feel in my element." " II is true," said Capt. Marvin, " that a long fa? mtliari^ with one mode of life, renders a cohbS^u* ance of it almost indispensable. This demolistraites the propriefy of accustoming children betiiiles to what is most consonant with reason. Which, through the force of habit, will in the sequel, prove to them the most agreeable." Mrs. Parker seemed always at a loss for an an- swer to both brother and sister^ The wide-rangfc of their ideas were so dissmiilar to her own, it re^ quired so much effort in hereto answer them, that 8 "^'■,1 ;■** «i^ *♦'■ ^i ■*»* dd f. c ll 1 %v I f^ shrui^k from the atteiUjpt. She now looked at «r wttbpi Mid arose to depart, expr&iiig a po-^ p9 deiire for a continuance of the acqumtance, §nd offering to send tlif' carriage, whenever the la- ike% could make it conv^lent to visit Fair- Valley. Auut Martha confined herself to one or two formal vi!(it8, hut Evelina* was more social. Her vivadty highly amused thejga|j|thern lady, who foupid Jier rare remarks %|V(f l^nfeent hilarity, a very effica- cious remedy ^i|^tii^'*9 ^ complaint to which t^e ^ood lady 1M|» very subject. Theodore and JEvelms^were likewise permitted, by Capt. Marvin, ,,tp accomnany their southern friends to view the Ni^ . ftgara Fsiils, and also to make with them deveral iither excursions. This gave oup young people, as ; their fatlier had foreseen,^ a littlfe more knowledge ^ of the world, and of genteel society. In the beginning of August, the Parkers return- ed to ]V(aryland, Our young people felt a va- ^ cuum in their min^ at the depsgrtureofth^ir south- ern* friends. Tpne fr^q|uent visitft had greatly , withdrawn theg|||^ their usual avo^tions ; they found it extrem^y Irksome to realime their oufitom- ary routine, and they no,w fiplt /• ^ssed with an unusual weight of listlcn^ss. ,^ Capt. Marvin had not interru^ilr the preced- ing dissipation. He had b^eu pleased at observing 1^ ney source of innocent amusement, opened for Ms darhng daughter and adopted son. He did not dread their acquir£bg habits of idlene^ ; for , the stay of their ojpulent friends was to be very tran-^ sient, and he (oresaw that thev would return, from Hvs interval of dissipation, with encreased eager- ness, to thei^ usual pursuits and employments, when the attraction,, that withdrew them, had ceased. He now took no notice of their listless demeanor and ap|>arent ^nui: but wished, by letting them m ,%-• 87 perceive the weight of idleness, to attach them the more jlifnly to steady pursuits and constant Oui- . 4- :-*^( •^ ■■« 'm * » j^^ ^ yje^ 'jfiteui'i;. . _-.jji^ #■ ■#■ :>,Vv: ¥,■5^ f^' m- IfB, CHAPTER VIIL Lims ii It 8ioe«.| saw htm, '' Bttltlal»bai nothing blarr'd tboie lines of favour^ VVipl IlifP be wor* ; the snalcbes in blst^ice, And burst oT speeking were as his." Thou dost approTe Uij^siBlf the very saaM t *' Thy name well fits thy faith; Uiy faith, thy name. Wilt take thy chance with ii«e f I will not say, Thou «halt \St so well master*d ; but be sure^ No. less beloT'd." SBAUBFKARBi BUT the business of the farm soon engrossed: the attention of Theodore. Evelina opce more occupied herself contentedly in household affairs. Winter returned, and they again partook of the ruS' tjc aniusexnents of the new settlers, in which lar Sour and diversion were blended together; and now, by the advice *of Mr. Marvin, Theodore began to clear a spot on his land, which was to be sown the next season, and the crop disposed of for his own private emolument. He was likewise to plant an orchard, and tQ. Continue gradually clearing his knd, that it mi^ll^jprepared when he should wish to form an estaBviMikcirt ibr himself. He had, witk the assistance orCato, who was always ready and wiUing to help his young master, cleared twenty acres during the winter ; and the negrp was to have a new suit of Sunday clothes, a gowtl for his wife^ Lany, and a smart suit for little Pompy^ who had likewise lent his assistance, out of th^ produce of massa Theodore's first harvest. Encouraged by these brilliant expectations, they laboured diligently to sow both farms. It had been, a fine day, in the month of May. Theodore and Cato were very assiduously employed, in finishing to harrow a field of grain. The sun was gradually - •** "» «" they been. and shing ually. 89 I obscured* Thiei cloudl collected,, and became dark and portentous. Little Pompy^ifho rode the horse, cried out, " Ah thassa, see it rafer* ^ True," said Theodore, '^ but, before wc go-home, we must finish this row.'' But, before they had finished, the rain descended^ in torrents. They left the field; but there was no shelter, nearer man Capt. Mar- vin's house. They hastened towards home, while the darkness encreased^ so that they could scarcely discern each other. Pompy sat on the horse, The- odore walked by his side. Presently they heard the sound of approaching steps. A voice, in broken English, cried out, ^'goodnight zirs! can you shew us the way to some Hotel? No great Hotel in these forests.^ to be zure, but some place where we may eat, aifid sleep, for de storm be very hard." "You are probably a stranger," said Theodore. " Yes, sir," said another voice, in good Engli^, though wi th a foreign accent. " We are strangers,^ passing through your country, to visit the Niagara falls. Our horses, guide andlMSFf ants are at Tonne- wonte village.' Coupt i.ftl^^nburg and myself were inclined to try j^^uf^ pigeop shooting ; and so strolled out this aiiinioon, only attend- ed by Pierre, to carry our fowling pieces. We have been overtaken by ^e storm^ and have tost ollr way. Will you oblige us, by pointing out^ where we can- procure lodging for the night." "There is no public house in the neighbour- hood ;" said Theodore ; " but F am certain that my uncle will behappjr to accommodate you, ify^u will accompany us httme." " We accept your offer, with thanks,." said the Fast spoken stranger. They all walk- ed forward t<]^eflier, Pompy bringing up the rear, on the plough horse. The rain fell too fast for vol- untary conversation. Silently tliey pursued on find 8* W , .2-;: m do .# # 4rj a few moments brought them to the door of che farm house. The blaze of a cheerful (ire gUmmer- cd through the )ultchen windows. Theodore open- ed the door. Capt. Marvin was seated by the fire- side. EveUna was preparing supper^ while aunt Martha and Lany were busily employed in house* hold affairs. Theodore entered. The travellers followed. Capt. Marvin arose at the sight of stran- gers, Theodore turned round to view his compan<» Tons. A very prepossessing and genteel y^ung man, with animated dark eyes, ^tood foremost. His com- panion YFM a fair complexioned youth, of noble mien, with a rich cap on 'his liead, bound with a ffolden band. Their servant Pierre, with a very honest countenance, though observant eye, stood ! modestly by the door. The whole appearance of the trio was decidedly foreign, but from what coun- try, our back settlers could not immediately deter- mine. Theodore spoke ; "These gentlemen have lost their way in the woo^ds, andl have brought them here, uncle, to claim your hoBpitality." " You did right, Theodore," said Capt. Marvin. " Gentlemen, you are welcome. Will you approach the fire?" '*We accept your courtesy with thanks, said the ■vtaUer stranger. The heat of the fire is grateful; %r the rain has quite soaked our gpirments." Say- ing this, h? took the chair offered h|m by Gapt. Mar- vin. 'The other stranger had turned his eyes very iixed^i>n Theodore ; but he now approaced the fire, and accepted a seat. " Vou must change your clothes, Theodore," said nufit Martha, "or vou will certainly take cold." " ShaS we accommodate you, gentlemen, with a change of clothes ?" said Cfapt. Marviti. The younger stranger accepted tl\e offer, with very [6 fire, » ,r. 91 X X many polite apologies for the trouble ; when their host took a candle, and conducted his guests into another room, where they werft 4^rnished with dry garments ; and Theodore hastened to his own room, to change himself. The third stranger then drew near the kitchen fire, and aunt Martha of-- fared him a diy coat. ^' No tank you ma^am, hut Pierre Schofbury not mind trifle. Dis be good fire, and I soon be very dry." A cheering fire was now kindled in the best par- lour, and a (Sentiful supper.prepared, of which the strangers partook with the family. After the table >vas removed, Cato renewed the fuel, and retired .to the kitchen, where he endeavoured to draw Pierre into conversation, who was nothing loth to chat with him. The storm continued without. The rain batter- ed against the window. The company in the par- bur contracted their circle, around the social hearth. " I understand, gentlemen,'^ said Capt. Marvi^n, wishing to introduce a conversation, '^that you .ui- tend visiting the Niagara falk.'^ " Our principle intention in coming to America,"" said the fair complexfoned stranger, ''was ta visit that far-famed cataract, and ascertain the truth of the magnificent and sublime description given: of it by tourists." " The prospect will well reward the pains you have taken to see it," said Theodore. ''Will it indeed," said the stranger, ^la eyes brightening with pleasure. " f f it but appMeh the description given of it by travellers, f shalTnQt re- . gret my visit to, America." " Count Leuchenburg,." said the • daik ey^d stranger, ^^is enthusiastically fond of the picar- esque, I tell him en badinage, that he is afflicted with the cataract mania." ..■K ..tf ., «* 98 ** It is thus," exclaimed the count, ^' that Mon- sieur Le Vicomte de Lunerille treats my taste for the gublime/' The young Vicomte smiled archly. His eyes met those of Theodore. He started. *' Certainly gentlemen, you are not natives of this wilderness ? Your manners betray too much knoirledge of the world, for that suppoijltion." ^Six years will soon have elapsed, since I first tetiiei here," said Capt. Marvm, ^^ but I formerljP resided in New- York." / '* Indeed!" said de Luneville, *' and this engaging"'^ young ladj^, and this gentleman are vour children !v "They are," replied Capt. Marvm. " I must compliment you," said the stranger, " by observing that this young lady, lovely a9 she is, greatly resembles her father; but I see no family resemblance in the brother. He probably is lil&e his mother ?"^ " I do not remember the looks of my mother,'* said Theodore. " You must,then, have lost her very young," observed the stranger ? " She was prob%bly of French extraction, fbr your fkmily appear Amer^- ican, and your features are decidedly French." " You must then be also French," said Evelina ^ <ther, we have a father, an aged far- ther," said de Luneville, ^* whe pines to ii^Qipver his long lost son t" ? "I must €ee my father," cried Theodoi^. Evelina had hitherto been absorbed with sur- prize and interest, but the scene was now brought home to her feelings, and she burst inta tears. *' Are we then to lose you, my brother ?" cried she. *' What cruel iate directed these strangers here ? We were so happy." Theodore embraced her. " Weep not,Evelina," said he, "your brother will not forsake you." * H^r ey^s instantly brightened with vivacity,. tho' a tear still trenibled in the eyelash. ^ Q^pt* Marvin had now recovered his self posses- sion, he wished to terminate this ai^icting scene,, and divert the attention of the company into anoth- er channeL He therefore enquired of the Vicomte how his brother came to .|^ abandoned in NeW'- Jersey. ^ • Una »> tho' >98es- :ene, loth- tomte ftw- W ** 1 will cndeafor to satisfy )rou,** laid de Luntf- yille ; " but must first give some short account of my family.*' He then took a seat. Theodore placed himself between Evelina and aunt Martha. AH w^Mjilent, and de Luneville thus began. ^* PjIPb the commencement of the fatal revolu- tion/ mere was not in France a ha|^ier family, than that of de Clermont. My father could trace his pedigree from the time of Ulovis. The family had been verv powerful, and the wealth of several branches had recently centered in my father. Our mother was daughter to the Duke d'Auxerre. She was amiable and intelligent, and our parents were strongly entwined in th^ bonds of mutual affection. I was their eldest child, and had attained my se- venth year, when my brother was bom. We re- sided jirincipally at the chateau of our ancestors in the neighborhood of Marseilles. My father had^ during his youth, served in the army with credit, but, on his marriage, had resigned hifl commission. Possessed of domestic felicity, and the society of some chosen fViends, he had no desire for the gaie- ties of Paris ; and my mother's taste accorded with that of her husband. But the revolution exploded. Their felicity fled, and yr^ succeeded by dread and terror. '' My grandfather had married an Austrian lady. H^r broUier often visited his nephew, accompanied by his son, Victor, my cousin here present. In 1793, my uncle, notwimstanding the difficulties of the. undertaking, again paid us a visit ; but it wiaS to prevail on my father to bring his fkmily to Aus- tria, and there await the result of the chaos, th^t was then overwhelmindl^ France. ** No," said my father, " I will not forsi£e my country. In her pre- sent critical situation, she lecftiires the presence of all her faithful sons, It ir too tii% I may be im- i^iA [iiSt^ # ' r ■-««*»„ $6 .*■ molated, still wiU 1 abide the storm ; but the Mar chioness and my sons may accompany you to Aus- tria.'' ^^No, said my mother, I will not abandon my husband* I will remain with you my dear Mar- quis«'' " Be it so," said my father, "thou^ appear- ances are gloomy, they may not be so de8{|erate as we imagine, but 4 wish to guard against the extinc- tion of my family* Uncle, I will commit my son Louis to your care. I have often thought of send- ing him for a year, or two, to Germany, that he might acquire the language. We will now carry this intention kito efTect, and De Luneville's edu- cation may proceed with that of your son Victor." *^ I ac^rdingly accompanied my uncle into Aus- tria. The estate of my father continued tranquil, ■during the reign of terror that succeeded. At4|ngth blood thirsty men sought his life, and the Mai|ui^ was denounced as an aristocrat, and an eheily w itlie people ; and, but for the timely information of a man who had formerly been his valet, but then held an office of impor^nce, he would have per- ielied by the guillotine. The murderers surround- ed our house, when my farther fled through a sub- terranean passage, gained a fishing boat, and efiect-^ ed his escape. My mother was to follow as soon as possible, and join the Marqius in Austria, but the blood thirsty rufhans did not allow her time, for before she could effect this design, they again sur- rounded the chateau. Their poison had been dis- seminated among the tenants, and those ungrateful churls joined in robbing the chateau. They had an order from a revolutionary tribunal, to seize my mother and conduct her to prison. Imagine her situation, with little Theodore in her arms, the chateau filled with ruffians, and no defence but the feeble lock of her closet. She sunk on her knees, ^nd sought the protection of Heaven. The door »7 was burst open, oiir unroi1:unate mother shrieketl, and elapsed her child to her bosom. But it was a deliverer who entered, Joseph was a favored ser- vant of the family, had been born ,and reared on the estate." "Madame," he cried, "hasten to dis- guise yourself. I have brought you the dress of a paysannc." My mother looked on him as an an* gel from Heaven, and was quickly metamorphosed mto a young paysanne. Joseph had, in the mean time, taken off the rich dress worn by Theodore, and clothed him in a course little gown and cap. "Now, Madame," said Joseph, "we will escape by Ihe same subterranean passage that faciUtated the departure of Monsieur Le Marquis, and once at a distance from the chateau, no one will recosnize m^ mother's maiid, Marion, here made her ap- pearance, h\ii as she had nothing to apprehend from the asMilants, she was directed to keep watch at the entrance of the passage, an4 entice away any person who might discover it. My father had in the mean time retired to Aus- tria. He there awaited my mother, but, receiving no tidings from her, his anxiety grew excessive, and he ventured to retura to France, and visit his chateau in disguise. He found nothing but the bare walls remaining. In wandering round the plac^^e met Marion. From her the Marquis learnt thepiaur- ticulars 1 have related, concerning the hie of her mistress; but Marion. knew no more. My fafther^s anguish was excessive. He made all possible en- quiry, but could obtain no clue, concerning the des- tiny of his lady. Our friends concluded, that the Marchioness must have perisked, through the agen- cy of the bloody government. My father narrowly escaped being seized, and again fled, almost distrac- ted, to Austria, where he possessed a sinall estate^ 9 ♦ ; 1 1- i ii lip : 1 1 Hi H m i H '1 fVtlDiEI'^^'ii' Kiflill: !• iHBvll !h Bfii! < SHmli Vm'^ i ; * t;-' ^Hllii hIII'' 1; 1 H 1 'B H 1 98 which he inherited in right of his mother. Those of our friends who remained in France, continued their enquiries concerning the Marchioness; hut no tidings of my i^jother transpired," "My father joined the Austrians and continued with their army, until the conchision of the war be- tween hisf Imperial Majesty and the French repub- Hc. He then retired to his httle Austrian estate, and dcToted the most of his time to my education." " The great estate of my uncle lay contiguous to the little one possessed by my father. My cousin Victor and myself were inseparable. At the age of fifteen, b^ had the. misfortune to lose his father. ^Mine was appointed his guardian ; and he then rie-' ^idedwithus. Years. r^led on, rand the hope of meeting my mother, or brother, had ceased to exisjU •My famer could not forget this loss,, and lived very retired; but, as we grew up, my cousin Leuchen- burg and myself, often. resided at his Hotel in Vienna* We ajso travelled together. The Count was very fond of the wild and magnificent scenes of nature, and we passed the whole of the last summer in Switzerland, visiting every part of that pictur- . esque country, "We were,. .one evening, benighted, near one of the glaciers, and were very much at a loss for a sup- perj and a place to lodge in ; for the village where /we had left our servants and baggage, wa«$ at too great a distance, to think of returning that night. Whilfe in tjijs perplexity, we heard the tinkling of a bell,, and presently perceived , a little boy collecting his sheep. We made our necessities known to him, and he conducted us to his father's cot, situated on .the decHvity of the i^iountain. " The mountaineer |:eceived us with great hospi- -tality, while hts wife hastily prepared us a supper, of their best shepherd's far.Q. ^ 9b '^Coutit Lcilchenburg happened to address me by D&me. Our host started, ^^pardoivme, gentlemen,'? said he, ^'but did not,i hear the name of de Leune- viUe ?" *' It is my appellation, I replied.^' *' Are yoft hot from Provence, sir ?" " I was bom there, replied I." ^^ You are, then, the eldest son of the late Marquis* de Beaucaire?'' pursued the mountaineer. '^ I am his only son, and the Marquis is still living/^ *' Can this be possible !" cried our host. " I un- derstood that Mons. Le Marquis had fallen in bat- tle, fighting against the republic, and that the Count de Leuchenburg was also dead.'' " You were rightly informed concerning niv un- cle's decease, replied I, but, thank God, my Hither is still alive." "And youp broUier, Theodore, have you heard from him?" "He, and our mother perished in the revolution." ' "No, thank Heaven," cried the shepherd, "thfey did nbt perish by those blood-hounds, although A- merica has proved as fatal to my dear lady, as France could have been." " Who are you ? enquired I, who appear so well acquainted with the fate of my family ?" " I am Joseph Le Beau, the servant of your mo-' ther." "Gracious Providence? arid how happens it I fmd you here, transformed into a Swiss mountaiop ecr?" " If Mousieur will listen," said the man, " he shall hear from me, the fate of his mother." " The day we left France, Madame had sent me on an errand to Marseilles. I there heard what was intended against my lady, and hastily procuring dis- guise, Thastened home. I just arrived in timf : ^r ii 100 the blood-thirsty villains had burat open the char teau; but I soon discovered Madame. 1 took mas- ter Theodore in my arms, and my lady followed me^ disguised as a country girl. The subterraneous pas- rage conducted us to a retired place, at some dis^ tance from the chateau. We then took the road to Marseilles, sadly afraid of being discovered. We found a ship weighing anchor, and hastily embark- ed on board; nor thoudit of emigrating where she Was bound. It was sufficient that she bore us from the imminent danger which surrounded us. ^^ Madame was quite exhausted by the fatigue,, fear, and anxiety she had experienced. I assisted her to her birth, in the cabin ; and the following day, she w^s in a violent delirium. I attended her witli diligent care, and, in. about ten days, Madame recovered her reason." "Joseph," said ll^Iarquise, "where are we? for my memory is very much confused." " In a ship, my dear." "But how come I here?" she enquired. ^^I related what had passed at the chateau." "0 true," she replied, "1 did not clearly remem- ber; but where is my little Theodore?" " Here, mama," cried the amiable child, who sat silent by the birth, that he might not disturb his dear mama. "My dear boy," said Madame la Marouise, " ble*-^ „sed be Heaven who has preserved you for your mo- ^er. Raise him, Joseph, that I may embrace him." She kissed her little darling, who was in raptures, to find.' that his dear mama. again recognized him; but the exertion overcame her, and she fell back. on. her pillow. " The following day, Madame again noticed her little boy, and enquired whither we were s^ilijig?" "To America, Madame." n 101 a, "My God! cried she, "and how shall we get to tlie court of Austria ?" " I never thought of that, my lady, replied I, "and^ if I had, you know we had no choice. But, is A- merica verv far from Austria? For 1 had never left France hefore, and did not then know much of ge- ography." *' Far enough, my good Joseph ; but send tlie cap- tain to me," said la Marquise. " The Captain informed her, that he was bound to New- York. We were ah-eady far out to sea. There was no remedy, but patience ; and Madame comforted herself with the hope of returning, by some other ship, to Europe*. We arrived safe in New- York. Madame began to be cmivalescent ; and we took iodiejings at a French boarding house in Pearl-street. Madame concluded to remain there.„ a few weeks, for the recovery of her health, and then take passage for Englahdi from whence she might write to Mons. Le Marquis. "But we were soon involved in new difficulties. Madame had very little money about her when we (led from the chateau, and I had never had much money about me in my life; Madame had, however, valuable rings, and other trinkets. The sale of these paid our passage, and something remained, on which we thought we might with proper economy subsist, and even reach England. " At this juncture, the yellow fever broke out in New-Yorlf, and Madame was seized with the disor- der. 1 was in despair. My God ! thought I, has Madame then left her own native France, to perish by the pestilence in America? It would have been better to have 'fallen by the hand of the regicides, which would have saved all tWs suffering. But tK), it is better to fall into the hands of God, than into those of men. I attended my dear lady, with all tho * 9* - %»'■ %\ .:*J;"|4s I 102 m care I could; and need had she of my attention ;• for the barlbarous people of the boarding house aban*- doned her, and removed to the country, and I was left alone with Madame, and little Theodore. All our money was soon expended. We had sold eve- ry thing of value. The dear child began to look pale, and wan, and I was utterly at a loss what course ta pursue ; for Madame was too ill to direct me. She was indeed totally unconscious, which sa- ved her much mental anxiety. " She had expended the last crown.- The little boy, who was always hovering around his mama, desired his supper. I gave him the last piece of bread that remained, when he lay down on his little bed, and fell asleep. I sat down for a few moments, in great a^ony of mind. It was then dark. I light- ed a rush light, and brought it near Madame. She was in a stupor. Poor lady, thought 1, little tliinks your noble husband, in what a state you live, with ,no nurse nor attendant but poor Joseph ; you, whom I once knew at the pinnacle of grandeur. But noble birth and great riches do not, it seems, exempt their possessor from suffering and want. And your son ! Famine and disease must now be his portion. I am afraid that contagion already lurks in his veins; and when the dear boy asks for his breakfast in the morning, I have nothing to give him. He must per- ish with hunger before my face. The son of the no- ble Marquis de Beaucaire must perish with hunger. !&(o,{)C shall not, if Joseph can save him. In a mood ©f frenzy, I caught up the child, and sallied out. A boat was putting off for the opposite coast of Jersey. I sprang into it. . On reaching the landj I again hur- ried away, I knew not whither, and in rushing for- yvdi'd nearly threw down a gentleman ; I stopped a moment, and recognized a merchant of our nei;^h- bourhoodj who bore an cxceUent character for gen- im J* erosity, probity and other amiable qualities. Imme^ diately the idea of committing Theodore to hi^care suggested itself to my imagination. I felt assured that he would not abandon the child; and I thought if Madame recovered her health,' or the Marquis re- claimed his son, we should know where to find him. I accordingljr laid Theodore at the feet of Mr. Mar- vin, beseeching him to take charge of the innocent.- Then hurried back to Madame, wha still continued^ insensible. I watched by her bed-srde. Towards morning, she recovered her recoUection. "How kind you are, Joseph," said the unfortunate lady. " You continue faithful, when all the world have forsaken me. Where is my dear little Theodore ?" I hesitated. " O he^is asleep^ Don't disturb hipi. " May the Almighty bftss and protect my chilc^^^ay the blessing of Heaven rest on my dear husbalnd,: scnct on. my son Louis. I hope, Joseph, they will reward you, for your kindness to me." The dear lady spoke this with difficulty. She then-raised her eyes to Heaven, "Jesus, my Saviour," she faultered, "hav*-^ mercy on me." Her head fell on the pillow. I hast- ened to support her. A lifeless corps lay in my arms. The spirit had fled to its God; for the pure aoul of la Marquise must have been immediately imited'with its- Creator. " It was a solemn, an awful moment. Shivering with agony; I sat down beside the bed of death. Some tears I shed, hni they were soon dried up, for my lady had escaped from tlie numerous evik .that surrounded her, to enjoy unutterable felicity. The next day I accompanied the remains of the Marchioness de Beaucaire, daughter of the noble' Duke d'Auxerre, to the potter's field of New- York. Sad reverse of fortune ! Mournful proof of the ver- satility of fate !' 1 then crossed over to New- Jersey, hoping to take a last sad lookof little ^^•- ^51 »>- 104 M: I'l Pi', odore. I entered into conversation with a negro tvoman, whom I found near the place where 1 had left the child, and learnt from her, that she had that morning seen such a child as I described, embark on board a vessel, with a gentleman and lady, whom she also described. Disappointed at not seeing my little master, but satisfied by the negro's account, lliat he was under the protection of the gentleman with whom I had left him, I crossed over to Long Island; and, having made my way on foot to Us eas- tern extremity, I passed to the continent and then walked to Boston. There I entered into the ser- vice of an English gentleman, with whom I sailed to England. My master recommended me to a' gentleman, who desired a French servant to attend* him on hisUravels. At Vienna We made enouiries concerning my old master, the Marquis de JBeau- caire, we were there informed that the Count de Leuchenburg was dead, and that his nephew, Mons. le Marquis de Beaucaire, had fallen in battle. During a long stay that my master made in Switzer- land, I became acquainted with Marguerite, whom I thought so pretty and engaging, that I requested my discharge, and resolved to settle in Switzerland..^ Marguerite was an only child. Her father left her this little property. I had saved wages, and we Kave here lived comfortably, these ten years." " Joseph here ceaseili His recital had too pow- flilly agitated me, to permit my expressing myself in words, but Count Leuchenburg, taking his hand; exclaimed "brave and worthy Joseph^ faithful and generous man, your conduct would do honor to the noblest Wood," "Faithfulness and humanity are not confined to nobility," said Joseph* " It is you, who possess the true nobility of the §oul," cried I grasping his hand. " Thou benefac- tor of my mother ; and has then that dear mother •%, T05 survived to experience such bitter misfery ? And is- my brother a destitute orphan in America'?*' *^ The next morning we set out for my father's retreat. His sorrow was great at our recital. It amounted to agony at the relation of my mother'a sufferings." " And yonr brother,'' he exclaimed, ^' we mast recover him, Louis. I will instantly set out for Switzerland, and learn every particular from' Joseph." ^^ The faithful creature was rejoiced to see my^ father. The Marquis was not rich, but his cousin Count Leuchenburg is wealthy. Between them, they purchased a fuie littFe properfy, that was to be sold in his neighborhood, and presented it to Jo- seph, which rendered him the richest shepherd in.* his valley. My father was continually with Jo- seph, discour8ing.of my mother, and devisiag means for the recovery of my brother* The Marquis and his old servant were to set out for America togeth- er, but Count Luchenburg prevented this; "cou<*.* sin," said he to my father, '' I have long had a pas*- sionate desire to visit the cataract of Niagara. Lou« is and I will go together. In our rout we may dis« cover your son ; and if we fail, Joseph and you mayr then ^0." ^ ^ " My father was prevailed on to agree to this ar- - rangement, and we accordingly set out. At New- York, we sought Mr. Marvin, who was not to be found, but after much persevering enquiry, we learnt that he had failed in the city, and with his family was settled in the environs of Tonnewonte^ Last night we arrived at the village, and this morn- ing the Count proposed that we should leave our attendants at the inn, and only accompanied by ■ Pierre, ramble throngh the country, as he wished^ to see nature in her wild and native domain.'.' "Per- haps," said he, "we may likewise meet yoar bro» ■i^''^ a')- 't io4 ::f.i; iKeh'' "1 thought this very iinprohaUcj but irilK- ingly accompanied my cousin. "We lost ourselves in the forest. Night and the storm overtook ui, when, conducted no doubt by overruling 9l*ovidence, we- met my brother." " When, on entering this house,' my eye first elanced on his countenance, I was struck with the bunily resemblence'discemable in his fciatures, and> began to hope that I had met with the brother I was in search of; and, praised be God, 1 shall now, Theodore, restore you to your father." " Here the young Yicomte aealn embraced his newly -recovered brother^ The breast of the young backwoodsman was torn with conflicting emotions. Did this eventful relation refer to him ? Did he then belong to the haughty aristocracy of Europe ? Those contemners of the rights of man \ And^his heart rose indignantly in his breast.' =- *' I haveat least leamed- the intrinsic value of man^" thought he, " I have f ^und it is not arbitrary distinctions that ennoble the faculties, and raise the soul, that emanation fronv the self eiistent first cause, which eaually pervades all intelligent beings { To debase and enslave man, is then to debase and enslave the I)eity that ani- niates hun \ These haughty nobles shall find, that the consciousness of- truo'dignity.and worth in a ci- teen, whose soul is filled with enlarged' views of mankind, is equal to the arrogant pretensions and prejudices of birth^ and the pride of remote ances- try, which- is nothing but the time which has elaps- ed since they appropriated the collected rights of such a large number of individuals to their own fam- ily. Lo, whatever a vassal lost of the dignity ol| human nature, was claimed by the hand that de- prived him of his native right, and trampled on the being created in the image of God.- — ^But mari- kind, tired of |his Usurpation, have endeavored to 107 and ■man- led to ^recover their natural inheritance, and in their turu inflict vengeance on those rohbers of their deareKt, possessions, who had so long deprived them of the 4:hoice8t gifts of natiH^e!'' " And am I, then, tlie son df that suffering lady, >the object of her tender s61icitude, and did that amiable female sufiTcr for the oppression of her an- cestors ? Must tlie innocent be punished for the guilty? Aks, the sins of the fathers, must indeed be visited on the children, and the vengeance de- - 6igned>for the usurpers, must fall on their posterity, who enjoy the fruit of ttieir usurpationsr" " And have T, then, a father, an affectionate fa* ther, who mourns my loss, who seeks to regain his long lost son ? The voice of nature is^ awakened in my bosom. I must see this parent. I must visit the grave of my mother." These were the reflee lions that successively sug- gested themselves to the mind of Theodore de Cler- anont, as his .brother pursued his narrative. He warmly returned de-Luneville's, embraoc. " My brother," was all he couM articulate. Capt. Marvin had listened attentively. Aunt Martha felt so much for the sufferings -of the Mar- chioness, that she thought of nothing else. Eveli- na had listened to Hie narrative with great interest. She had shed tears at the fate 6f ijie unfortunate lady, the mother of Tlicodore, but her thoughts again recurred to the son, who was to be restored to the father, they now for the tirst time heard of i • "Theodore," cried she, with native simplicity, "you will not abandon u»?" The youth approach- ed her. " Monsieur 4e Clermont has a father wh* jequires his presence," said Count Leuchenburg. "My brother must be impatient to see his only re maining parent," said the Vicomte, "and the anxi- ety of that parent will not be terminated, until he embraces his long lost son*". i! " 1 do feci h€re a divided duty," said Theodore. I wish to render my duty to my failier, but how n 1 abandon my benefactor ?" " Theodore," re(>Iied Capt. Marvin, "I feel for E perplexity, but follow the dictates of nature. four duty to youillAither. Let him sef bis son. ye worthy 01 ao. adopted citizen of America. If you find every thing to your satisfacHitt^ temain in Europe ; but, after trying the paths of igrandeur^ if you cannot discover happiness, remember that the arms of juDur American iriends will be open te receive fou. Though youmay, at Vienna, move in a more elevated sphere than at Tonnewonte, yet here, you will fmd competency and independence; nor will you have to waited Wm in the old world, began to float in ^piniW agination. ' . , It is needless to recapitulate the'j^articular^ oftbe journey, since they met with no extracrdinary adven- ture. They arrived safe at New- York, and took lod- gings in Broadway. Leuchenbur^ and de Luneville had brought letters of introduction from Europe* Our young backwoodsman exchanged his rustic equipment, for a suit of fa^iionable cut, and called with his friends to deliver them. The cordiality of the inhabitants of New- York towards strangers is proverbial. It may then be imagined, that our three young gentlemen, with all their advantages, were not neglected. Numerous engagements occupied their time, and they were universally flattered and cares- sed in the fashionable circles of that city. * The two Europeans were highly pleased to find elegance and refinement, equal to that of their own circles, among those, whom they had hitherto deem- ' A w H 1 1 rear- .« H2 m m ed the demi ravage citizens of America.. The- charms of novelty^ had a still more lively effect on- young de Clermont; and while lisfning to the ac- complished Miss Van Oyden's exhibition on the pi- ano, in an elegant drawing room, ^led with Uie most fashionable company of the city, who were, profuse in their attentions to the handsome young Frcnchmen^Jl^liDOndered at his own stupidity, in- regretting tllil^^stic retreajt of Tonnewonte, and his former reiuctlince to launch into the world of fasci- ^lation, that n*6w surrounded him. * ^^ But the charm existed, in the kind souls who in- habit there,^' re»{^ded his better self, "and the af- fectionate Evelina^ wfire she. but as accomplished as these ladies, would not be equalled by any being on« qarth." ' r The following morning, de Luneville asked liift» brother, if. he would accompany him to his ig^ther'si gravli Theodore's heart smote him. "*^e sug-r gestion should have come from myself," thought be^ ^^ but my attention has been so.taken up in this world of novelties, that my mind could dwell on nothing else." ■ -^ The two brothers proceeded silently up Grien- wich-street. They passed through Greenwich vil- lage , and entered rotter's tieldr ' In this fi ild of charity, this receptacle, of begga- ry," exclaimed de Luneville, "repose the remains ©f the decendaht of the Diikes d'Auxerre, of the wife of the Marquis de Beaucaire* For this she fled from the rage of equality in France ! ' ' " My poor mother," said Theodore, " her suffer- ings in this world, were great!" " I visited this place, previously to my journey to Tonnewonte," said de Luneville. " By the indica- tion of Joseph, we were enabled to discover the spot, where repose the remains of our pareat> Here i ^ .■tut 113 Tbe- it is ;" and he pointed to a monument of the richest marble, executed with great taste. Theodore seemed surprised. "You think this has been erected with great dispatch," said de Lune- ville. " It was formed in Europe, under the direc- tion of our father. We brought it with us, and it has been put up, while we were on our excursion in the west." De Clermont knelt by the grav^ De Lunevillc leaned pensively against the monument. Our young backwoodsman arose. He took the arm of his brother. Hope beamed through his eyes. He had been imploring the protection of that Being, with whom he felt assured his mother now was, in bliss. " Our parent suffered greatly ii| this world, Louis, but she is now happy in Heaven." The other smiled sadly. "Does not your heart b%at indignantly, Theodore, when you think of the canaille fViho were the primary cause of our noble mother's sufferings ?" " Those who deprived them of the rights of man, must not be surprised, if the generous feeling of hu manity were no longer inmates in the bosom o slaves.'^ ** What mean you, de Clermont," cried the Vi- cortite. • "t- * " I am considering the cas6 impartially," replied the naturalized American. "And you, the son of the noble victim ?" said his brother, indignantly. • "I am a man, and feel for mankind;" " Theodore de Clermont," exclaimed de Lune- ville. "But I forget; you have been brought up estranged from your noble family. You repeat the maxims of tho^ who reared you." " I think for myself," said Theodore, proudly, ** We will, at present, bid adicTi to the subject," 10* 114 't! ''. |i said de Luneville, " experience, my brother; will* 4 lear Away the mist from your eyes. We have been* educated very diflTercntly; but we are brothers. Our sentiments, at some future period, may be more' similar. Until then, we will avoid all subjects that may lead to altercation." An American ship was ready to sail for Leghorn* Theodore and his companions embarked in her^ Their voyage waaprosperous, and they landed safe in T(u!y, from w^nce they continued their journey to Austria. They found all the country, through which they travelled, in motion. Buonaparte waa preparing for his disastrous campaign in Russia ; and they possessed several divisions of his army, who were marching to the point of rendezvous ; but the pi^nciples of our travellers would not permit them to take part in this war; and they hastened towards the retreat of the Marquis de Beaucaire. If it be true, that we are not to reckon time by the number of days that have elapsed, but by the sue* session, or accession of ideas, Theodore must have lived a great while, since his landing in Italy. Eve* j; ry thing interested him ; but they travelled rapidly. ^ He was in a few miles oifhis father's house; and hj« impatience became great, to see that father. An avant courier had been sent forward, to an» nounce thoir approach. The cavalcade- at length stopped, before a venerable pile. Count Leuchen^ burgh and de Luneville sprang from their horses* Theodore followed their example* • It was a delightr ful eveniiig. The moon and stars, shone brightly in the firmament. The heart of our young travel- ler beat quick with emotion. He followed his bro» ther, who hastened into the house. "Have they arrived?" cried a voice from the jforthercnd of the hall. "We are here, my father," exclaimed Louis, ^ ■m. 115 precipitating himself into the arm? of an aged gentle^ man, who was hurrying forward, and who held out" his arms to receive him. " And where is your brother?" enquired the Mar- quis of Bcaucaire,* for it was he. *' Theodore," said d^ Luneville, " come forward and embrace your father.'? The youth approached with diffidence. The old -> Marquis gazed fixedly at him. % You are then my father ?" said de Clermoiiti" . " The voice of my Emilie ! O ray son, my son, ' come to your father's heart," tried the old gentle- man, embracing his recovered child. The voice of nature spoke in the breast of the' youth. " My father^" he exclaimed) "I have then a parent. I am not a Btranger ofalien in the world,' with no natural tie^ nor claim on mankind." " Too long have you been such, my son," said Mons. de Beaucairej "but you «hall no\^ be the pride, the solace of an affectionate father ! O EmiMe, why ac|^ you not' here to witness this re-union ^ My happf^ ness were then €omplete« But, if fimn your abod^ of blessedness, you can behold us j look down and^ see your son restored to his happy father ; and ah) tfestow your blessing and protection on him !" * Count Leuchenburg now approached, and paid his compliments to Mons. de Beaucaire, who led the way to the dining joom, where supper was served up. The Marquis feated himself at the head ^f the {^T}le, and viewed the young men with great com- placency, who were regaling themselves^ with the keen appetite created by a day's hard travelling. "Hope again re-animates my bosom," said the old gentleman, "never since my exile, have I felt a< happy as I- do at this* moment* 1 do not even des- pair of seeing theulescendants of Henri quatre sealK ?d en the throne of France!" m 11 il4 4 *f ■:.c;* li(j ••»* " There is little probability of it, at present," said Count Leuchenburg, ^'when the gigantic usurper is at the head of such mighty armies." " But, with my father, I hope against probabili- ty," cried de Luneville. " My spirits rose as I passed those gallant regiments, and I apostrophised that daring usurper who binds me to such ignoble sloth, while my ancestors had all signalised them- selves by gloriouBi. achievments, long before they had attained the age of the present faineant possess- or of their title." "Hope, my son," said the old gentleman. " I may yet see you at the head of a regiment, boldly leading forward the standard of the HUies to victory." " May fortune grant the accomplishment "of your wish," cried the young Vicount. " May the hardy Russians overthrow that Colossus, and then for the Bourbons !" "Will France be happier under their sway?" en- quired Theodore* "Alas, my dear child^" said the old Marquis. " Are you, then, entirely ignorant of the history of your native country ? Know you not; that an usurp- er possesses the throne of the legitimate kings of France? That low Parvenus occupy the places, and enjoy the estates of our ancient noblesse, who are now exiles in every quarter of the globe." Theodore hesitated4a reply o - He saw the preju- dices of the Miaiiquify but he respected what he deemed the ^errcmeous views of his father. " They have been fostered by education," thought Theodore de Clermont. The old gentleman seemed iias-^rb- ed in reflection, when suddenly turning to his son.- "I thought the fame of our fatal revolution must have extended to every part of the civilized globe." " You are right my iather. Even the children in America are familiar with the history of that ter- rible convulsioi^^f ac( mis ed 5> 117 '^'^Sb I p'resamed, my ipn, but we will not com- mence to night concerning the deficiencies of youl*' education, though certainly no time is t6 .be lost. You appear genteel and well bred; and have re-' tained your native language^ though you have thef- accent of a foreigner." ^^ '^Theodore de Clermont is not uninformed, tSut misinformed," said de Luneville. ^^I^ has been reair-' ed by violent republicans." ^ ^^ But the citizens of America must be diflferent from the regicides of Fttmce," said the Marquis de^ Beaucaire. "The United States was the ally of our martyred Louis sixteenth." "There are Worthy peotple in America," said? Theodore, with Warmth; " You could not, m^^ father, how diiferent soever your political opinions * may be, avoid loving the generous man, who re«^ ceived, adopted and ^ucated me." "You must to-morrow relate to me all the parti-' culars of your life," said Mons. de Beaucaire^ "and^^ we must endeavor to reimburse the kind Americaiiv' for the expenses of your education." "He is above it,?' said Theodore.' "He would' receive such a proposal afian affront. It was with« the utmost difficulty that we prevailed on him to retain, as a marriage portion lor his ^daughter, five; hundred'dollafs, with its accumulated interest for fourteen years, that he had invested in the bank in my name, when he thought me a destitute orphan. - And, as for five • hundred acres of land, that he gave me, he would on no account consent to have it restored, but insisted that it should still remain mine,' a refuge in case of any unforsesa exigency of fortune." " Is he rich ?" enquired the old gentleman. *• He is rich in independence," replied the youth,. " though like Cincinnatus, he holds the plough aud> cultivates the eartli." # ;gv i "'♦'fS !":'! il'ti* X'V'^y ;!' \ " t r^ sii-^- 11'8 ^^Agriculture walancieiUly aciwunted Ian honor* Hble employment,'' said Mons. de Beaucaire. *^It b Jtitl considered such in America,'' repHed his son. "Men, who have held the phni^) leald their armies and govern the state." *^ You would be amused, mj iathei','' said de- Ln- nevilley at observing the pridet>f those would be modem Cincinikatus ; and so classical are they, that their most insi^ficant^illage» bear tbn^' names of tfaie most celebrated places of ancient lore, and their towna are called, oy the high sounding appel- lations of untiquity.'^* "But no conhtiy in the world can' ecjual the wild magnificence of American scenery," said Count Leuchenbur^. "In Europe we have brt, but in America -todis^ited nature." In sinillar conversation, the evening paased away. After The«dofe retired to rest^ it was long before slfeep visited his' eye lids." He had abundiDt food ' for reflection, and, when he at length akunbercd, he dreamt of nothing but counts, aonan^ and ' nobles. . Theodore greatljT'tesembled hii deceased niother. ' This waa^tbe ckie -to his father's heart. The old gentleman soon bofcame very fond of this newly re- covered son, and ^11 his anxiety was liow to intro- duce him properly m the wdrld. The little Austrian estate was but i mere Com- petency to a nobleman, accustomed to habits of luxury, and this, trifling as it was, descended en- tirely to the eldest son. Young de Clermont had, inAjnerica, been taught to famp himself;ibut of what service was the art of hewing wood, making fences, &c. to a young nobleman. In the then state ofEurope, his lather could not place him in the army. All this perplexed the old gentleman. ^'But Theodore is still young," thought he, "we must now study to makeup the deficiencies of his education, # r ■H-' 119 ■.4.. rand perhaps it may then he feasible to place him in the Austrian service." The Marquis, however, soon discovered himself agreeably deceived in his opinion -of his son^s ac- quirements, who knew something of whatever they wished to teach him. But it was his. knowledge in the theory of tactics, that, most delighted the old gentleman. ^*My son,'' cried he, in raptures, when he first made this discovery, " I shall yet see you a geiier* ^ al." Theodore applied himself very diligently to the studies pointed out by his father^ He also vi- sited Vienna, with Count Leuchenburg and de Lu- neville, when he became more initiated in the ways ^f the ^reat world. i m- .-# # 130 ^ip^P. CHAPTER X. ** Wliat are those (aJes of Europe*! fate^ .Ot Aiijout and the Spj»ui»b irowii ; ^ And leaK"^" (o pull u&urper*) 4lown ? ^ Of iDarcblng artnits, difitani 'wara ; Of ractious, airddoineMicjars-?'* HtOBSB. THE quiet tenor of Theodore's studies was now i^interruptcd by rumours from-Russia. Buonaparte liud failed in his intended conquests. The mighty armies he had led into those frozen regions, were nearly annihilated. They had fallen- victims to the insatiable ambition of their leader. The friends of the Bourbon's now began to look forward with hope. Every da^ i,orae new account of the Corsican's disasters reached the retreat of the Marquis dc Beaucaire. "My son," said he, one day, to Theodore, "the period of our supine inactiv- ity is nearly at an end. I forsee that the Emperor of Austria will join Russia. They will declare for the Bourbons, and we shall see Louis the eighteenth restored to the throne of his ancestors. Your ac- quirements and abihties, Theodore de Clermont, will then have room to display themselves. En attendant^ my son, be diligent in prosecuting the studies you are engaged in." Ambition and the desire of distinguislung himself, which had hitherto lain domrmnt in the bosom of Theodore, began now to display themselves. His eyes brightened, and his bosom glowed, at the words of the Marquis. "My father," cried he, with en- thusiasm, "your son, though reared in the wilds of America, will not disgrace the Marquis de Beau- caire." -^ Is this then the adopted son of America, who is so ready to fight the battles of despots, so eagei* t© 4#' J^ ^ I2f «». raise his arm to restore a monarch to a tli|one, from whence he was expelled by his people, weary of Hheir yoke of servitude ? Where is now his late love of liberty? What has become of his sentiments of justice, of liberality, of the rights of man? Alas! they have evaporated, before the contagion of exaiA* pie. Daily accustomed to hear the father he revered, the friends he respected, complain of the wrongs Iheir monarchs, themselves, and their emi;jrant brethren had suflfered, he was led to take an inter- est in their misfortunes. Generosity enlisted on their side and induced him to wish to redress their wrongs. He still believed his principles unchanged. His feelings were still awakened, at the name of lib- erty; but, strange inconsistency of human nature, he was ready and willing to enforce a system of government on an independent people. Become a member of the aristocratical body, he impercep- tibly imbibed their sentiments, and love of power. Some time after this conversation, the Austrian minister called on the Marquis de Bcaucaire, who was an old acquaintance, and offered him the com- mand of a regiment, and commissions in it for his two sons. The marquis ioyfully accepted the pro- posal ; for he already in invagination saw Louis the eighteenth seated on the throne of France, and him- self restored to his native country, and hereditary tstate. De Luneville was delighted. He possses- sed all the gallantry and bravery of his countrymen. Theodore certainly felt a degree of vanity, when he first viewed himself in regimentals. Mons. de Beau- caire and his sons joined their regiment, which was then in garrison on the borders of Bohemia. The great confederacy was now forming. Au- stria soon declared itself, and the allies prepared to march into France. The result of the campaign v well known. The 11 i '*^' ,ii 122 M ill allies toolf possession of Paris. The sooci fortune of tlic extraordinary Corsican now Tonook him. He was deposed and exiled to Elba, while Louis ;he , eighteenth was seated on the throne of Charlemagne, ' and surrounded by his emierant nobility, who flock- ed from all parts at this joyful revolution. The regiment commanded by the Marquis de J^eaucaire had greatly distinguished itself, llie di- vision of the army, to which it belonged, re-echoed with the braycry and good conduct of Mons. do Beaucaire, while the gallantry of his sons, was high- ly extolled. The Marquis's good fortune was likewise con- spicuous. The possessor of his patrimony, a Gene- ral in Buonaparte's army, had, with his son and nephew, perished in the Russian campaign, and Mons. de Beaucaire's whole estate was now uncon- ditionally restored to him. His sons, who wished to quit the Austrian service for that of their native country, also received commissions in diflerent re- giments. The Marquis, with a joyful heart, made his/conge at court, and set forward for Provence. Theodore accompanied him, while de Luneville remained at Paris. They travelled on horse back, with a small retinue. The sun had passed its meridian. They were riding silently through a grove of olives. Mons. de Beaucaire paused at the summit of an eminence. ," Look around, my son," exclaimed he. ""Behold .thy native country. See it rich in oil and in wine. See it fruitful in all the necessaries and luxuries oi^ life. Behold a far tlie Mediterranean. Observe yonder hill, surrounded with trees. At its foot lies our paternal domain, which was wrested from us by those unprincipled regicides ; but, praised be God; our own is restored. Presently, I'hrodore .^' 133 ic Clermont shall you see the noble chateau, ia which you first breathed the vital air.^' The old gentleman gave reins to his horse. The whole cavalcade galloped after him. The road led to the top of the emmencc he had pointed out. Elated with hope, the Marquis rode forward. He passed the cluster of olives, and his whole native vallev lay extended before him. He suddenly checked his charger, and remained silent and mo- tionless. Theodore came up with him, and paused by his side. " My father," the old gentleman start- ed. " Theodore, 1 iust now promised to shew you your native chateau I Behold where it stood," and he pointed to a mis-shapen mass of stones. ^'The foundation of that chateau wa» laid in the reign of Charlemagne, by our ancestor Louis Rei^i- nald de Clermont, Marquis de Beaucairc, and it was enlarged, beautihed, and kept in constant re- pair by his desr idants. Your grand-father added • a wing in the modem style. Now view its remains, my son." *'Thus trj»nsitory is human greatness," said The- odore. "Vain man endeavors to render his name and perfori nances immortal, biit sooii oy late, fate overtakf- both him and them." "Ah Emilie !" cri- ed th gentleman, not heeding the words of his son, '• . ay remains rest in a foreign soil. Tnou hast , en spared this grievous sight. Oh inournful prospect, to return in old age, to behold the habit- ation of our early youth levelled with the ground, our former connexions annihilated, and scarcely a remnant of former scenery remaining." Old Ge- rard, who had left France with tlie Marquis, sym- pathised with his master; the others, who were strangers, stood respectfully silent. The horses now cast their shadows forward. The day was far advanced. "My father," said Thee- 1^ ^i;^!! t i-Ti in. Ji: li>4 i!:'-^. dore, "shall we proceed to the village ?" " Alas^'* replied the old gentleman, "on my paternal estate, I have no longer an habitation. But, we must pass the night at Beaucaire. We may find a lodging with some of my. old tenants, but probably the wor- thy arc fled, and none but murderous rebels remain. Yet no, some of tlie dependants of the house of Beaucaire must be innocent." He gave the reins to his horse, but paused opposite the ruins. "It is too late, my father, to view them to night," said Theodore, endeavoring to dissipate the old gentle* man's melancholy. Young de Clermont moved on. The Marquis slowly followed. They entered the village and stopped at the inn. The host came to the door, bowing obsequiously, "Gentlemen, will you be pleased to do me the honor to alight ?" "What is your name?" enquired the Marquis. "Pierre de La vol. Monsieur, at your service." . "Pierre de Lavol was a wojpthy man.'? The Marquis looked up, " but you ^ a young man, his hairs were gray." ".Monsieur then knew my father ?" "Where is he?" •'Ah liioiliflieur, he has been dead many years." The Miarauis shook his head, and sighed. " I shall not find an old acquaintance," murmured he. "Will Messieurs be pleased to alight?" said the host, again l^owioi;. The Marquis dismounted. Theodore and his at- tendants followed liis example. He pensively en- tered the Hotelerie, an aged, but apparently active i\ i>man^ came forward, and shewed them into a neat sanded room. " What will Messieurs be pleased to have for supper?" enquired she. The Marquis rais* ed his eyes. The woman varied her question. "I have seen you before, my good woman, but my memory is confused. Pray, what is your uame." * J 125 ?r ^> " Jeannette Montfert, Monsieur, at your service." " Are you indeed Jeannette, and not remember me ?" cried the Marquis, hastily rising. " I have not that honor," said she, dropping -a courtesy. " I am the Marquis de Beaucaire," said the old gentleman, raising himself with dignity. "Monsieur le Marquis de Beaucaire," cried Je- annette, " Qut dieu soit beni ! et la bonne vierge ! You are then come to claim your own, Monsieur ? DUu soit beni ! beni soit la sainte Marie ? I heard those upstart Pardos had. perished in that frozen « Russia. May God grant, said I, when I heard it, that our own family may come back, and claim its own. But where is my dear lady ?" The Marquis sighed. " Oh she is then in Heaven," cried Jean- nette, "putting her handkerchief to her eyes." Then, after a pause, she resumed, " but where is little master, my dear nurseling ?" " Kere he is, Jeannette. , Theodore, this is your nurse." " That I am indeed, young gentleman. At this breast you were nourished.; but, what a iine^oung gentleman you are grown ! How gre«^tly you re- semble my lady." Theodore shook the good woman by the hand; " You are then my nurse, said he, I can scalrcely remember my mother, but am happy to find one, to whom I can render thank;^ for lier care of my in- fancy." "And good care I took of you, my dear cHld,** said Jeannette. " But, gentlemen, you will w^t supper. You will not oa^to your own housf t^' " My chauteau is in ri^s," exclaimed thej^^tiiii^ " You mean the old chateau, that was destroyed in the revolution ; but the Pardos, who by soni^ means got possession of the estate, have with its revenues n* # f^ ^ 126 built quite a liandsome mansion, and a house keep- er and steward reside in the house. Look through this window. That is the Hotel, on the rise of yon- der hill." She pointedto a very elegant modem mansion. "The tasteless creatures," cried the Marquis, "not even to have chosen the site of the old chateau." "But, my father," said Theodore, "that situation is far more picturesque. It appears to command an extensive prospect,only terminated by the Mediter- ranean. A pleasant rivulet winds round the base of the hill ; and what lofty trees crown the summit. I think it a charming retreat." "You do not remember the old chateau," said his father. "You cannot recollect its gothic grandeur." . "Monsieur le Marquis, and Monsieur Theodore will take supper here?" enquired Jeannette. " Yes, good nurse," repHed the old gentleman, "and can you provide us with beds? for my spirits are not equal to viewing this new mansion tonight." "AhMon8ieur,you do us honor," cried Jeannette, "but Monsieur le Marquis de Beaucaire shall com- mand^ the best accommodations in this house." Jeannette hastened out to provide supper. The- odore, observing the gathering melancholy on his father's countenance, endeavoured to engage him in conversation. 'Is this then the good woman, who performed the office of a mother to me ?" " She nursed you, Theodore." "Probably, then, my mother was afflicted with ill health?" "No, my Emilie enjoyed an excellent constitu- tion." "Indeed ; then this wom^n was only an assistant to my mother?" | " You often forget your liirth, rf»" «on- You do .m n s©^ ■:«. 127 not consider, that what is very natural for the wife of a farmer or merchant, would ill become a Mar- chioness." ' "Ah, my father, I thought the ties of nature were equally binding among all ranks." The entrance of Jeannette prevented an answer. She was followed by a smart looking young woman. "Monsieur le Marquis, this is my daughter, Ma- rion, the only child I have now left me; for your foster brother Claude, Monsieur Theodore, was ta- ken from me by the proscription ; he rose to be a Captain, that is true; but what was that to me? Hi^.. perished in the wars, and I Jost nny only son." Marion dropped a courtesy. Theodore who had not forgotten his American breeding, bowed in re- turn. The Marquis said, "I am glad Jeannnette, that amidst the devastations that have afflicted France, ^ou have reserved one child, yrh& appears very dutiful."' "Yes, Monsieur le Marquis, Marion is wife to Pierre de Lavol, and mistress of this house. I have resided with her, since her marriage." The Marquis and his son seated themselves at the- supper table, which was covered wi£h.,the best fare the house afforded. " But, Jeannette^" said the old gentleman, "did you not say there were servants at ^s new maor sion?" ,f "Yes, Monsieur, the son of old Francis Marche- main is steward there; and dom not Monsieur (e Marquis remember tlie livelv little Madelen, whoiio my lady took to attend on Master Louis ? Well she is wife to Marchemain, and housekeeper at the Ho- tel." ' ^ ^^ Really," said the Marquis, "then I shall meet with old acquaintance." '^The plague take tbem^'' said Jeannette, " I % ISi'i I "11 {■■' il (. ■:^ 128 ucvcr could forgive tliem, for consenting to serve tiiose new masters, the. Pardos; and then, they car- ry their heads so high. They haye contrived to get into their hands some land of their own, which ren- ders their pride intolerable, and they now carry all things with a high hand.^' "Every thing is changed," said the old gentleman. ^' But who now occupies the estate of the Marquis des Abbayes?" "Ah Monsieur le Marquis, there are strange chan- ges in that quarter. In the reign of terror. Monsieur le Marquis and Madame la Marquise des Abbayes, witli their two sons, and three daughters, were drag- ged to prison, and all, except Mademoiselle Sophia, we.re guillotined as aristocrats. The nephew of the then magistrate, who had been a tailor, saw Mademoiselle Sophia, on the day of trial, and fell in love with her. He begged her life of his uncle, who agreed to save her, if she would marry his nephew* Mademoiselle Sophia was accordingly espited, when all her family perished. Du Monier afterwards presented himself to her in prison, and informed her, that he could procure her release, if she would marry him. De Monier was quite a pas- sable young man, and spoke much of his love ; but then, could Mademoiselle des Abbayes accept the hand of a grocer? She, however, soon found that there was no other means of saving her life : they were accordingly married. Du Monier became an army contractor, accumulated an iinmense fortune, and has purchased all the estates that belonged to the family des Abbayes, with several others m the neighbourhood. . He was himself created Marquis des Abbayes, by Buonaparte." "Shocking!" exclaimed Mons. de Beaucaire* Jeannette ( ^nti^ued, " Madame has been dead these two years. Tfhey say she lived very happily; 12^ for du Mpmer that was, Monsi le Marquis des Ab» ba yes that is, was always very kind to her. She has left an only daughter, who is cried up as a paragon of perfection. She was educated in Paris, and is in truth very pretty, and very clever, though not the lady her mother was. How should she be ? For she must take a little after her papa : but in titith, Mad* emoiselle Sophia des Abbayes is very good to poor people, remertibering no doUbt, that her father was no better once himself; but then, indeed, she has good blood on her mother's side." "Some of the best blood in France," cried Mons. de Beaucaire. "Pity that its clearness should be contaminated with such base puddle, tailors and grocers indeed ! Oh my poor old friend des Abbayes, and his amiable Marchioness^nd their fine children, ah, wretched France." " But m3r father," said Theodore, "can you think that there is any real difference in the quality of blood ? I think the family fortunate, that amidst the ruin which overwhelmed its members, one of them should be saved from the general wreck, aoid^ still enjoy the property of her ancestors." "Theodore, m^son," exclaimed the old gentle- man, " but you are excusable. These sentiaieats are the effect of your education." "I was educated by a worthy man," said de Cler- mont» "He was indeed kind to you," observed the Mar^ quis, " but not a fit preceptor for a descendant of the house de Clermont." Theodore not wishing to- irritate the melan oly mood of his father, discontinued the subject. " But, Jeannette," resumied the old gentleman^ "v/ho now possesses the estate of Mons. de Beau- mont | I saw the old chateau still standing, as I pas- sed it this afternoon, though it appeared in a very shattered condition." w I ' ♦'I ■*fld '■'■1% »1;>}S r30 * ''The old Count himself," replied the nurse. ''Mons. de Beaumont took advantage of the procla- mation inviting the retunl of emigrants, and obtain- ed a restitution of part of his est&te; but so many free farms have been granted from it, that the re- maining portion is very small. Every thing was gone to ruin, and the Count is unable to repair the chateau, but has fitted up one wing, where he now resides." *'I have then one old fviend living," said the Mar- quis. "Praised be God! But where is Monsieur de Beaumont's family ?" "He has but one son remainiing," replied Jean- nette, "Who is serving in the army." " I hope he may have the good fortune to retrieve the former splendour of his house," said the Mar- quis de BiBaucaire." " They say he is seeking a rich niarriage," said the nurse, "and it is reported that he is endeavouring to pay his addresses to Mad.lle des Abbayes, but that she will net Hsten to young Mons. de Beaumont." " The grocer's daughter," cried Mons. de Beau- caire, " and will de Beaumont consent to that ?" "It would be the retrieving of their family," Jean- nette, and then Mademoselle Soptiia, is'the heiress and descendant of the des Abbayes family." • "Poh!" cried the Marquis, retreating from'^'the table, "but good Jeannette, have you a bed forme; for I am much wearied ?" ^^ ^ A bed was prepared, an isi ^^ My ancestors," thought he, "reigned here, witli the splendour and power of princes J' His thoughts recurred to the days of other limes. His imagination trasported him back to the reign of feudal power, of chivalric gallantry, when some bold cavalier had is- sued from the loi|y portal, to merit his lady's love, by feats of arms. Something touched hi& foot. He started. A toad was crawling over it. "Vile rep- tile," apostrophised de Clermont, "thou art then proprietor here, ai^d thinkest the descendant of[ the ancient possessors of the chateau, an intruder? Sic transit gloria mundi. This princely mansion is laid in ruins. Its lords have been exiles, .and wan- derers on the. face of the earth. True, ^they now return^ but is the view of this mass iof desolation calculated to inspire them with happiness? My fa- ther appears over whelmed with regret. My bro- ther the heir of the family is wholly occupied with his pleasures, and seems in no haste to revisit the scenes of his birth. l\e i& satisfied, if the j«nt of the estate will defray, the expenses of his Paqsian establishment. Do I feel happier in this seat of my ancestors, than I, did in the wilds of America? I think not. Should I strike a balance, the, account would not preponderate in favour of Europe. I was happy amidst the primitive simplicity of Tonnewon- te. I was happy in the bosom of my adopted fami- ly; and I contributed to their happiness. Do they still thinjc of thoii' ab^i]^ Theod,ore? Yes, my heart assures me, that they have not forgotten their belov- ed friend; and 1 too will never forget the naive Ev- elina, tl^ truly motherly aunt Martha, the worthy Captiin Marvin. But lam pow a Frenchman. J n^ust think and act li^e ^'heodore de Clermont, and I mi^ comfort and cherish my father." With this win^g up of .his reverie, he returned to the inn, jund soon enjoyed the sweet oblivion of sleep. »!: IS 4' *- 132 "t Report soon spread through the village tlie arri- val of Marquis de Beaucaire. The Marquis had, in his youth, been much beloved for his courtesy and affability. A new generation had now arisen, who knew him not; but a few ancients remained. To them the return of the old Marquis was an epoch of jo^. They should now have their landlord residing with them, and they promised themselves a revival of the good old times. These communicated their hopes and expectations, to the younger inhabitants. Enthusiasm began to enkindle among the villagers, and the Marquis was awakened, the following morn* ing, witl^ cries of " Vive la maispn de Beaucaire, Vive Monsieur le Marquis P^ lie arose, and walked to- wards the window. The crowd hailed him, with great demonstrations of enthusiastic joy. * " This reminds me of former days," said tlie old gentleman to Iris son. " The Marquises de Beau- caire, were always thus hailed. -Go, my son, bid Pierre deLavol not spare his wine. Let them drink the restoration of the ancient house de Beaucaire." Theodore obeyed his father. He wished not to damp the pleasant feelings of the old gentleman. **But, how vain is it," thought he, " to p^^y attention to the frantic exclamations of the multitude! In the same manner were these mobs enkindled, when they furiously rased chateaus, and exterminated wholl families. A breath blows them h||g|,|ii there, liet their passions but be excited^ auidlB% are^for OB© thing to-day, for another to-morrow." The Marquis nwv prepared to take possess!^ oC his new mansion, lia mounted his horse, ilis son and €ervants accomj^ied him. As they tkme in view of the house, Mons. de Beaucaire paused, to examine it. It was a very neat structure, bujjl in a modern style, at the summit aor^minence, that Commanded an extensive prospect W the Mediter- .# ^ « '*- f53 rancan, and the surrounding country. " This, then,"' murmured the Marquis, ^* is the citizen-hke estah- Kshment, that I am to receive, in heu of the venera- ble chateau of my ancestors." *^The situation is finely chosen," observed The- odore. "Ah, my son," said his father, " could you have seen our venerable and magnificent chateau, you might then have spokenof situation and effect, but it has passed away; I too must soon pass away, and be forgotten." "My father,' 'exclaimed Theodore. The Mar- quis moved foward. They -were received at the gate by Marchemain,'who gravely welcomed Mons. (le Beaucai«e. ^ "I am happy to «ee you, Marclicmain, in so eli- gible a situation," said the Marquis, "but it seems you have lost a master." " I have recovered my first master," said the stew- ard, "and I heartily congratulate you. Monsieur le Marquis de Beaucaire, on your restoration to your hereditary rights ; and am ready to settle -accounts with whomsoever Monsieur may think proper tp employ." "You did well, Marcbemain," replied the Mar- quis, "to serve a master, who' was able to reward you. Now no doubt, you will serve your ancient fjoi^, with eqnsA zeal. Come, sliew us the house ; and have a good breakfast ready ; for we are still fasting." "Madelon has forseen tha|^ Monsieur le Marquis, and y«^ lyill find breakfast in-i'Cadiness." He conducted them into a^*^legant saloon, fron- ting a terrace, that looked towards tlic Mediterrar neaa,^ Theodore was delighted with the exteftsive prospfct. Th©: Marquis looked a moment on the larrace; then seated himself at the breakfast table. I'M m t'n 12 # m I s 1J4 Madclon, or as she was now called, Madame Mar- chcmain, appeared, to pay her respects to the Mar- quis. She was a woman of ahout thirty-nine, with quite a genteel exterior, and was dressed very tastily. "Monsieur le Marquis/' said she, advancing with great ease, "you are welcome to Beaucaire ; and we are rejoiced to see you once more amongst us. Is this young gentleman youf son. Monsieur Louis, whom I had once the honour to have in charge ?" "This is my youngest son, Theodore; but I am happy to see you, Madelon, in such improved cir- cumstances. I find that all the dependants of our house, did not fall with the principals." "Why^ indeed, Monsieur le jKlarquis, we have, thank God, been pretty fortunate, and Marchemain i3,^ thank fortune, rather clear of the world, that is, for people in our condition." " I am glad to hear it, Madelon; you have, I see, provided us with a very good breakfast. That was very considerate in you, as we sent you no warning of our approach." " I hope Monsieur le Marquis will relish it. I wi]l go and send up the coffee," said Madelon. "How every thing is chan|ed,".gaid the old gen- tleman, as she went out. "That well dressed wo- man, with her ail's of consequence, was once the lively paysanne Madelon. You are a good accomp- tant, Theodore. I must employ you to look over this steward's papers. If he prove honest, we will emoloyhim; if not, he must seek elseyvhere." by degrees the Marqijis became rpore reconciled to the changes which surrounded him. All the an- cient depeudanis gfjljis family were eager to pay their court to their former lord, who was equally desirous to seek them out. But Jeannette Y^as le Marquis's principal favorite, and soon became equal- ly acceptable to her foster son. Her daughter had ^m''^^ 135 aiargc family, and they were not in very easy cir- cumstances. Monsieur de Beaucaire was never v/earied with hearing her stories of old times ; and Theodore found hdr a faithful chronicle of modem, as well as ancient events, tllitt had occurred in the neighbourhood. The Mttrqnis became anx^.ous tc establish her at his mansion; but he was at a loss in what capacity to place her. Madelon was house- keeper^ arid faer husband was discovered to be a val- uable steward, whom the Marquis did not care to disobliges Jeannctte was, however, invited to re- side at the Hotel de Bieaucaire, which invitation 8h« gladly accepted. Her occupations were not deimed ; ^)ut she bustled about amazinfi^, and soon engros* s^ all directions. This didnot please Madelon,' who had long held her head above Jeamiette, and had been accustomed td the deference of Her former companions. She now complained to her husband, accusing Jeahnette of impertmence, in presuming to dictate and interfere' ^thhef. - " Does> Monsieur le Marquis," cried she, '4hink that t will put up with the msolehcc of this Jean- hette ?" "Ma chere Madelon," replied Marchemai'n, "let us retire to the house I have built on our litthie pro- priete. If it please Monsieur de Beaucaire to re- tiain me land-steward, it is well; if not, we hiave, thank God, sufBticnt to live upon." Madelon readily consented to be mistiress of a house of her own. The Marquis made no objettibn*, but retained M^rchemain land-steward ; and Jean- liette Was formally inducted in the office of housie- keeper at the Hotel de Beaucaire. Most of the neighbouring gentlemen called t(f<^bn- gratulate the Marquis de Beaucaire on iiis retH^i^^ tionto his patrimony; and he I'ecogmsed, amd^t these, some few of his old acquaintance; but thiev If Wr ..Wbbi- I3ii were ipostly new men, whom he did not fqellnxiou^ to associate with.. ^^My son,'^ said the Marquis to. Theodore, *^you may, if you please, return these vis- its. The political changes of our unfortunate coun- try have raised these pevsons to the rank of gentle- man. They are now, it seems, vifiited by our oldest, families. It is good to live in union with. our neighs, hours ; but pn you, Theodore,.! devolve that charge. 1 am an ojd man;, and am. not desirous • of new ac- quaintance, .or society. I only wish to pass the few. days that: remaia to. me^ in. peace, and mv native, country, and to cherish old scenes, and old recol- lections. My lojBses are great. The chateau of my ancestors Is destroyed. Ypur mother is no .more ; but I must acquire r^Kguatien, and study to mak^ aay peace with God." A few days after this conversation, an elegant Carriage drove. up. the avenue, attended by servants, in magnificent liveries. Two gentlemen alighted,, the one very splendidly dressed, the other a venera-. ble oldgentleman, with silver hair, in a plain suitof black. Theodore happene4.J|P he by the. window-,) and was inwardly commentinj|P^n tlie contrast their, appearance .presented, when a servant announced Monsieur le Marquis des Abbaycs, and Monsieur la Comte de Beaun»ont. . " Have they come together," cried Mons* de Beaucaire^ Theodore hastened to the door, to receive them. He bowed low to the venerable, tigiire of Mons.de Beaumoat, and polite- ly to the Marquis des Abbayes. Monsieurs de Beau- mont, and de Beaucairo embraced. ^'Welcome, thrice welcome home to your estate, mon cher Mar- quis," cried the former. "How happy am I to meet again my old friend de l^e^tl^flilit,'|«said Monsieur de Beaucaire. * les, de Beaucaire, I returned a little before jQUt We have seen adverse fortune, but peiiuit 137 ieir la de me to introduce Mons. )e ^.tfarquig des Abbayes.'^ The latter bowed; de Be >.acaire returned his salu- i] tation Mrith formal dijo^ilf . *^ Be seated, gentlemen,'* said the Marquis. Thej looked at Theodore. **Thia gentleman is my younger son, Theodore de Cler- mont." "Welcome to your native country, young gentle* man," said Mons. de Beaumont. "1 see, my friend, you have saved your children from the wreck. 1 too nave preserved one son from oiir family desolation** My youngest child Charles. He is now absent, with his regiment ; but you must be acquainted witbhimy Mons. de Clermont." Theodore bowed. " I also hope to be honoured with your acquain- tance. Monsieur de Clermont," said Mons. des Ab* bayes. Theodore again bowed. "I hope, Mons. de Beaucaire," continued the Marquis, " that you find your new habitation to your mind. Monsieur Pardo omitted nothing that could contribute to its comfort or elegance, although he but occasionally resided l||re, for he was a general in the service, and was oRen absent, with the army*" " So we have undery|od," said Theodore. " You were very fominate," continued des Ab* bayes, "that general Pardo and his heirs perished in the Russian expedition ; fur many gentlemen havQ returned with iFie King, and found their estates oc- cupied by those who are entirely unwilling to give up t»o««session." "Shameful usurpation," cried the Marquis de BeaucairCr " But many persons," replied Mons. des Abbayes, "have bought those estates, and paid for them; and their right is confirmed by the present administra- tion." ^. " It is but too true," said Mons. de Beaucair^i^ ' t ^My friend," said the Count de Beaumont, " out 12* ;)| tI^^' idd I ^^ country and its children have sufiered much inju», tice. 1 have experienced my share in . the general * calamity. You hai^e^r perhaps, heard, geiitlemen,. that the best moietv 4>f my estate^ has been alienate, odfromone; butChajrles must make the most of, what remains. I am an old man, and require but. ittle for myself^'' The conversation continued for some time, on the, then state of France, the .events of the revolution, and other similar topicG/.. . When the gentlemen arose to depart, pressing in- vitations were exchanged between the Count de* Beaumont, and the Marquis de Beaucaire, which: were also extended, though rather reluctantly, to ^e Marquis des Abbayea; but Mons. de Beaucaire^ Gould not slight him, iMtroduced as he was, by his old. iri^nd de Beaumont. The Marquis de Beaucaire and liis son attended their guests to the door. . The frolendid equipage,, which belonged to des Abl^ps, drove off. Mons.. ^ Beaucaire turned to hisJmk. "What changes in France," he exclaimed, "flilr can de Beaumont condescend to associate tiiiaijSinniliady with that up«- gtartl" W "Monsieur des Abbayes has ^e appearance of ». gentleman," observed Theodore. ^Of^e new ficbooV' said the Marquis. SND or VOL. i« ^1 ♦