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The work may be obtained in complete sets, or in separate numbers, from the principal bookaellera throughout the United States. P-'.\ . 4 4 < »Nia. 1 I IBM r»— ||»M».|'Si-^* nqpn if ^i'4J DRAMATIC SERIES OF THE FAMILY LIBRARY. FamUy Libray.] "**'**^ '" <*'«» «*«» to complete uf y tkt fiterature of our countrv^ Bi . ,w.^i *''"''l* P«»"'«»n» «o the uoetlo m force and JpioMneS^of ^x^^^^LV^^l """J" ^* «"* fl««y. in rapid change'^of incWento fnSSi Snn" ^I"'' I'^'^^^i "^ character above all, in justice and "MSn of LntlmiS^h""' •V*"""' ««>» unknown to the generality of r««dA«.^J?^®"'r*5!°'' '*o'"'» ««» totally an adventurous fewf X tave &tJd frSm ^^^^^^ *" *« """"• <* to explore for themailves lew faSStar -S?^ 'k ' '?^" P***" "f «»<«y amuwment. The wglMtTthJJS^^ho™ t^^T^ '""S °'" "'•"^ works of imagination M the Snt can 'oL^vii '^•' «o ftrouraWe tb slonai coarswess of languM^^ch fiJ^r^/ZJiSfK'*'''^ '»''>" «^^ beauty of their most exquhrite scZS n^^*?h!l"' ,■""' !«"""» '"e editors of the Family iihT^y^yTi:{Jr^f^!A the tnm the plays of Ma^«ing"Knmont Ktl, 2.PJi'''i,'J^*?« " aeleetlon MiJdleton, and others, Sng^rauch «L„«^^T^ ®'"''*''' ^*"**«"' consistent with the delicacy and reflnBmpn^n?S?J"'' Passages as an in- Whenever it is possiblMKa^ wiT^ nrim2^""<^^^^^ double plot, the one, as In the ZL ^f th^vfrin m *?""•• K '•">" •"» « tiftil, and the otheJ m eminenX jffen8iU'^th?'y«^i'' ^^ separated from the dead weight "f wriSutlon w%il&,''f*'"y *'"' ** jomed, and be presented to thrreader i^a fnrm^wlHf'' " i" unnaturally mixed and flowing enjoyment to his imwiSa^^n ^ "IK ""?'«' "" "»- evil in the groundwork of the plav on?f a a nau -^^ '^"^ '' " "">'««' be given ; but, in such case". ca?e 'vri^f afwi v5 h« , I' ' "^^ *=*"«" """y interest of an entire and connected ItorvT?«wn,l'''-,'} J!" V^^^'> '»>« with Short explanatory no^and aion^a^^cS'^^ln':^^"''"'"^'^ floSed irihl^tit'^offik^^arl'^^r^' "' '!"^ "r"'"*- ''««> are very much wanted in tmscoumrv Akh^nlT^'^^'^'f *"**»* « 'hey of poetry, few on this sideofZSiict^ «?„*ii'„°.T" "k« '^^wnci It is singular that they have no K ?^nrSS'**^'^'V*' •''•'*' •"«'*««• of the solid thought and lab^ur^d comD^aition^f^,r ^i"^^- ^ "«•• advantageously substituted for much XhefrinJ^rv^^^ days might bo ^lous me.re, and ek,i\ut 41?"fS?ce1 in'5 a^Ky^^^^^ a l^mfer^'aro'Sser mK?^^'?^^^^^^ '"^^" P"""'«' '" «"«»• that admirable coSn HUherfo he?I hi w„' "»P°««"' Matures of certainly no successful one, at 0Denin'fth«^".r^ ^''"'""^'y ""^ """"P'? ireasur/ which is to be found ?nhf works of TJ"!!'''* ""^ P*^''«>^ sity alone, however, obtain his interference • he snlfnfL ,I« "^ "T^ assistance without Obtruding it • somedmPH Vn^ 1,.^^'^* "'* «A maintain » "« •"°"»^!LJ^" f riders ; for not only la It may be aided, the aflbctlons of f^jy ^['"JSVOTd coiiedy provided In enrrtalnroentln all the 'w'nhT;^?t?nil^?mayoften obtain, without their pages, but he who reads 'hem attentively J"»y , ^ „f ^is fellow- •^S"XXX'r^ SttW th^ So^rl^ "f cases, be only SSTaTj'a^n^^^^^ but «.ch .» haj. ^^e^' ^«p^'^net'r2^p]'^^^^^^^ Kw of eatabllahed character; «"? '^e ^^ wiu e^^^^^^ them In the wcouragement from the P"»>"oj»V"«Sfksrf uniform appearance, and SX?f time to produce a wri« of w^^^^^ have been including moet of rtiJJ^'y J»»»g" "S^^^ American proas. The w Bhall bo issued from t™ nwj^jn i^ngnju -..^^^^ ^j^^^^ Sowfrom which they are « "^^ *^^°?^irialTand U l» their Inten- Sotsui« them against ^y J**?' "L^X^^m the public confidence in ttoB to make '^}^*"^X^^^£^a\^^«. •"»« P^ce. too, wlU Se judgment w'th wWcJ tt« adectto^ ,„^„e ., and S.iS'n^Th'ft'itS.TTS.SSr^Ul render it a n^ ^ con- ^wSTha. b~n "nore thMOUghl* di.cusg«l »^^^^^ ^^^ ^ ^^^ ^ to^ TOvels to be iniurioua, or at >«f»» "f*?^ "^ ^ ^osely wamlned, KXlllty. Yet, If toe ^f^^^^^^X^^ZiCtuAyt in- SwlU be found that they »" SSThV^fhetwruMl of flSrttU^^ adventure! dulgence In the pleasures •'^•J V.'J^.'SnJua which can be juaOy Jtamtothe ''o'to *«'»!«^f J^SSivefy mS from wiy pecuUar noilous ferent. «.>,.Ti.rfiiB_wore nove'a of every kind, the g«|pd as BaleTenwere It otherwise-w«« noje'^ of ^er^n-^^^^^^^ wdl as the bad, the strikln| and w^'"* "^LJJS^^iTmind and were ■ Uahle to the Charge £-'^KSra%t«ctlve as weU « ssx«u^»r£juti^-rd^^^^^^^^ «!W-"«I'K.!:S'i^e^o'Th^^ a from ai ages and classes of men, ^o^fVJ^ Btiu coiiiuiuo ». •~™'» ''A;",_„--rtnction The remonstrances of moral- found, unavailing »8»»"li^l"*"'*r.nerK the utmost that wisdom and Hve. Men will wad novels ; » "^.^n^t^*"^ t^^^ appetite, and. as it pWlanthropy can do«to cater pradent^^^^^^^ ^^^ ,^,1,., [a hopeless to attempt \he f ''c»«»l^«; "'^^^^ed with the least poettWe "nii'ShWvlt «hi marit than that of novelty c ■^SSCi*'^^ ! -P ' i* ^..«.r""''' '"'^'"'^^ ''"■HART. h«i-5*''f"'P'»*«J Sketch Will ha - """^ ">« l^st C/ai«ca! \ V ■48^ ■'jeftt' '"^Siatt JiWM rTB.^. ^ ,--g^;,jg£^: f\\ [JVfay, 1831. VALUABLE WORKS PUBLISIIKD BY J. & J. HARPER. 8. CLIFF-STREET, NEW-YORK. THE niSTOllY OF MO^JF^.f, Eimoi'K, from the rise nf the Modern Kingaoms to the present period. By William Uusskli, Ll-.»., and William JoNKH, Esq. With Annotatiims by an Ameri- can. In 3 vols. 8vo. THE HISTORICAL WORKS of th« Rev. WILLIAM ROIJERT- BON. D.D. ; comprising his HIS- TORY of AMERICA; ClIARi.ES V ; SCOTLAND, and INDIA. In 3 vols. 8vo. with Plates. GIBBON'S HISTORY OF THE DECLINE AND FALL OF THE ROMAN EMPIRE. In 4 vo»8. 8vo. With Plates. The rf>0T« work! 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ROMANCE of HISTORY. Framob. In 3 vols. 13nio. By LBiTca RiTOBiE, Esq. ROMANCE of HISTORY. SWkW In 3 vols. 13nM>. By Don T. Dn Trusba, Author of "the CaetU- lan," &c. THE INCOGNITO ; or, SINS AND PECCADILLOES. ANovel. By the Author of " Romance of Hl» tory," "the Castilian,'" Ac. THE TALBA. ANovel. ByMra. Bray, Author of "the White Hoods," "the Proteatant," dco. STORIES OF WATERLOO, AND OTHER TALES, to S vote. 18mo. WAVBRLEY J OR, 'TIS SnCTV YEARS SDiCE. ANovaL tot vols. 13mo. BeTiaed, comoted, and enlarged by the Authar. D£LISLE. ANoreL ST(ite.lSaak • t\ i>t- Works published by J. ^ J, Harper. BT. VALENTINR'S DAY- at Tirp V\m MAID OK kWi • af o(ilo(.„„ong,t«." Hytlio Author of " Wuverloj-." Iii'ivolH. ia,„„. THR DOOM OP DRVoUOOir Author of "Wavcrloy." i8i„„." TALES OF A (JRANDFATIIKR By lio Author of ..VVavo'w- Sork.;. "'"'• ^'"'''' "'"J »""»"" ^lil5H7M,?J^X^^"'*'0 : or, HER. YESTERDAY IN IRELAND. A Novel. In a vol,, i2mo. uy ,he Auihorof "To-day in Ireland" '^'PAGR ^^'^^'^.^^ '"'« KING'S l-AUE. A Nov«I. a vols. I2mo. TALES AND SKETCHES By a Cotintry Schoolmaster, ibmo ®^PARATI0N. ANovoI. By La- FALKLAND. A Novel. By th« Author of '< Pelham," &o ^ LIFE OF MAN8IE WAUCH TAT LOft IN DALKEITH lalnl^' '^D?CT?^"^.'^ ""<» THE PRE- ACTION. A Novel. In 8 vol.. THE SUBALTERN* LOG-BOOK A Novel. In 9 vol.. 18010. ''ffi^""- ^^°"«'- ">«^»- H^^BABA. ANovel. InSvol.. P^THUMOUS PAPERS PAPF STORIES OP A BRIDE ll« .h- " A THR ENm.l^ii AT HOME. A Auihorof 'Mho Rii«li«h in ftfllv' «nd " tho English III Fra„,o'.^ ^'.'fniAm " "* "*''.'/'■ '•''AI^TA. <>i-i>it,i.«j. An Umiorioal lin. 'nnife. In 8 vols, lairio TALES OF MILITARY LIFE. In "Hie Military fikctch-Uook." "'' rM.'u"^ "J" • ATalooftha <'\il\Var«. In 2 voU. l2mo. A Novel. In 3 ''lSvS°^/^''9'''ASHI0H I'RIVATE LIFE vols. 12ino. TALES OP THE WEST. 8 vol. laina Uy the Author of " Lottera from the East." ^^iwrs THE YOUNG DU%. ANovel PHILIP AUGUSTUS. A Novel THE TUILERIES. A Novel Bv 3vWyLTL.«i^^^oT;W^ NORTHERNTRAVELLER.,8^- mVEL^^Yu^^ SELECT workf ^^'^'i'"' ^" «"">««» no Dation, or have hX JS.. '"'•P' .u.hoiofXSZl^iSUte'?^ DRAMATIC LIBRARY-rfeE^!!: lection, flrom popular iSSS.^ Dramatic writerij iiiu« frT^HS? w English trwiriiioM "of L m« valuable G«ek ZiL^ "««■» Biographical SketehM, *& ^ ■"-"%« ^^ii<-.- HAVERHILL ; ra, MEMOIRS OF AN OFFICER IN THE ARMY OF WOLFE. Bir JAMES A. JONES, AUTHOB OF " TALES OF AN INDIAN OAllt." ^^ IN TWO VOLUMES. VOL. I. NEW-YORK : PUBLISHED BY J. ir J. HARPER, 83 CLIFF-STREET. BOORBACH, W«""' °*i""rLORD?AND HoLbKOOK, BILLIARD, ORAV, A«D CO., BILL ;-BO.TON, "'^ «*""f °!''i'°,?' *„p hbndIIB, R. P. AND C. WILMAIW, AM» CROCKER AND »«»W^""' "•'^"s Co !nD SONB, W. AND J. MAL, 40UFB ^V"4:-.X^";"l"«P bSn^^ N. wood, and .. ROB««,K. 183L ^2 3, -j^^^^ ^^ V. ^ S [Entered aefM- J- 7- !?-%4 P^-v* Ml • IP TO THE READER. In describing a New-England courtship and wedding, in the thirteenth chapter of the first volume, I confess my obligations to a piece in the " Offering," published at Cam- bridge, Mass. Having once read it, it was so lively and graphic that there was no getting it out of my head ; so I concluded to make a liberal use of the ideas of the writer, and then to acknowledge my obligations to him. This is all I have to say by way of either Advertise- ment or Preface— excepting that I wish my book to be judged without prejudice, and solely by its merits. M<, \.' .^a«» '■ >M .^ ■i. 1 !^^ri;rv-r«|-?r rfol »A i. .4- >!h;*i#;g;f t- ^^ CHAPTER I. i ^)bWr could see the use of a lon^ courtship, ^ lonft sittiii^ over wine, or a loi^ introduction to a stoiy. I would have a courtship iteverto exceed a week, I woukl limit a sitting over wine ^b an hour, and4he j^ftHpry niatter to a story should nevi^ exceed three pajges. In this instance I shall compress it into as many lines, ai^ proceed at once to tny jf^roper theme. ^ The histoiy of my tamily is briefly this. My ancestoiC for a great many geneiratidiis, followed the einplo;;^^nt bi iilshing at QiieenborcHigh, in ^e county of Kent, m merry old England. M^^mjoteirnal^tuidfatherwasnaniedHolmep, he was whipper-in t<6 some great man, but I foi^t who. They Wer^ very poor ;— it may be remarked that they wfc<| follow this pursuit always are so. From the timeof thiose' who were made ** fishers of nien**' to the moment I record the fact, they have bebi proverbially bom and nursed in poverty, and have died in poverty, t H""Sl JP""" IMM^hMM •^mmrmti- ^ $1 ^il * ' HAVSaniLL. ^ % believe the tiling was ever done. I can entertain the idea of a man s making a fortune by selling oysters or cow-heels, but not that of hi» acquiring richea by the quest of mackerel, or pilchards, or cod, or whiting. My grandfatljer was thj^ ^{.<)f ^h0 fi»iily who, to the employment of taking fish, added that of purchasing those caught by others, and selling them again. After dealing largely in this commodity for near twentv years, he became, m consequence of attempting to monopolise all the fish at Billmgs^te, at a season of u^sn^ plenty, and consequent gradual depression in price, a bankrupt, and was registered g ^uchm the court whichji^as cpgnizajiceof these jpa^ers. pe paid a veiT large d|vid|en4|iowev teppenpe mi^^ pound ! A say large, fori am assured by merchants t^ ?^ W yfO' Wsaal thins tp obtain more than threepence m the pbund from the effects of « unfortunate" men. Th© jreditprs of my grandfather! ^ere so delighted with Jiib honesty— so the 51d ^entliera^ft , told my fat^, who told i|ie,^that they gave hjm the " whitewashing ,--rbiAt ^aek;w^4i sl^derousfe^' WW,-— used to say it was be,c^. tliat while he produced so th^y oooks, he ke^pt back, the Book of Sales, and " bills reldfeivable." One thing is *cert?iin, that he n§ver coii'ld get credit after his bankruptcy. 1^1^ very men who had com- plimented him upon his integrity, though they gave very civil, obliging aiMwers to his, applications for "goods upon, time," never trusted him again. There was neyer a bijl or '\\^-^l\^^W grandfather's signifjg,. at least, to be yjlued above a round P, se^, in Queenbprpugb there- after.^^ And the nickname they gave, hin>—" Tenpenny John,"— had it any connexion with ^he dividend, and was it meant to imply a fraudulent bankruptcy? I know not, and my grandfather when questioned as tp its meaning, never gave a vei;y satisfactory answer.. Ind^d,bit e^pla? ^***\- ■V .t- nifMence ta aome trwsactioi. m the kind ^f * i^^^ SS^ing^e time been sold at tenpence the po^hd, S thereafter to be denominated « tenpehnies.'* 1 "be- t^d Uie sto^, as in duty bound, for he wa* m^^' S .^tSi»bt sure Lt I should hav6 coB^^^^^^^ Sltherttifw it b^n told me by a striinger. or one that 1 ^'^Mihg Oiere ^re no means by which ^^^"Wsupport liirSk with his diminished resources and undone ere- drt^K'Selinedto see whether, the first ^f^^^i^ improved, and the lattei' resusci ated m ^hc American Slonies He paekedup the various moveables suscep- t^lTof eWkW ^ith a dutyramong whtch we?e^r^^^ ehildren, put them on bo«rd a to at th^ Nore^idiidMset sail for Boston on the 7th of May, 6T9. Where does my reader thnk he feed the nlace of his future residence upon his arrival ? ^Let it be rSected thathe had a continent before him. ^nd might SS Wms^lf «!«« any 'nile of a barine border^ n^ rthoiisand featoi^. Had he determined to spend his LvsTwa ffia's Yineyard. or Nantucket, or Block I& S at^quaSi,or Sag Harbour, or Chincoteague, or ZMn -but when I say that he chose Cape Cod, the very madere, 1 fhoqldWxvere I to offer a vindication ofjba mL Mariners a^ awdre.if^Undsmen are not, thai Cape Cod is the very region of hurricanes and tempiets ariother ^* Cape of Storm^"--at dertam seasons of the year a riTe boisterous spot than any other to be found in jTorth Wica. But thei^ is no accounting for taste-e^peci^lly "^ll^iH^^^Si^ectionfor the calling v.hich had fe^enUhat of hi^ ancestors for near two hundred years^ embarkedinaquest^^hichthough ««» of p.lchards was still of fish, and in so far a remstatement of himself m his former vocation. He toiled very hard, but though he could not say that he caught nothing, he could have m^de oath that he caught oiilf enough to keep his family froni starv- Sa Fori lortg time it^l^^s his fete to receive from the d^ty who distributes the goods of fortune, a sufficiency of %■ 4 ^ . I : W.. {(•„. ^he could do. £Kl?&i,i'iS'.*<>^«'-. e\S^ •» oe manned wifii NicleJ*!^. d ***' *™<* he eaimd "Pon the occurrence of evXj tj ™* *• despatched blowy" nH>„i^^^e»'eTCnrplea,,„, and not^»^ ^wSfSe'-t^^^'-'^^fe'rir dllSe.^^^ JK'koned «dvent„"rTOv^'^.1°<* 1-^.*^ . •««««•» he added anJtteJS J"*' ■«"* eWeiJS Hsjoge, i. called T-gXii^.tf''^.'''"''''' "»»™* mop» were the better ^TtS • ?** *« Plinoe « ^ '."•e, oars, boat-wariM .LJ Lu ^ mh-lmes, hooks, seim fo- the girls,- bu, hi, cWef b^i: '^i^'fe* "*nick-kS E.'te ;PPK<»tion of the^S„°;„'*rW8*e'-e founded Dndoubtedfy he migh, and l-o13d hi'"' »««*'««>"' lips -Jhey have frequently been m»5^ hawacqui^ , fort^ but he was preTCBteHW .1 "?* " the unholv vooSf attention, but scarcely worth 11*- ®**^o'd»naiy cam and "Ponthem. Ninety LrSl#i«iL™^*"*^<^^^^^^ * was contracted, and the % ■4. Wiiytji«din|{'«We yeMf • tttbbfe^ obt Wfth a w^t to¥(W of th^ mo^ dcNibCfal of tlsB chftfjjes, ind the scoring up to better men of the' simount/mj^ grandfather, jwor old man ! t^as seldom *ble t*i make the tivo ends bf the year meet Without their snairiing at catjh otfie^r like an iUiissorted couple, Of apair whose m«t6h ¥ai a lcHr^-match-^1 rtiean aioin-a-^^, Cii||*«-lBve^it'h-^-herlove To-day Ik Nickcpsdii rto off, tO^morrow a HaUet ** stiwjre out," ^s the phrase is,^wheR a man ireleases himseTf fromhte dfebtfi nnder the operation of an insolvent law, andljy m^ahi of an oath— God hate mercy on many of thoge who take it; and perhaps t^itbln a week d Nye pleaded the distresif fit8ofpnly grandfather's busmess—H was this : that he Was himself a>^fy thirsty man, a very sand-bed for ab- sorl^ng liquids, HM could ^mpty a bottle of Jamaica run| withthemofrtihardened sinner of a drunkard betvreehCoi'' basset rocks and the ''sandy Point of Monamoy. - ltd* needed conSi<|etably less than the teinptation of good ffelj^ lowship to Join in every drunken frolic in the neighbour/ hoodi Whertjver tbpers were wet, my grandfather s good- natured, burly fac^ was sujre to be sqen— the "hail-fellbVif-' well-met*V of tl^e tijsiiest^the v6ry |)Wnee of Ipw ' dki baucheeii. His voic^ form^ a prominent part in everjjj drunken gtee 6i» " a»y were employed, brhir/„Th.i'-^ ^"i^l!^ *^^"«ts. &I0W the laAdi^ of ^thH r ^T^^r ^"^'^ w^^^^ inftiatethemintheVsteriLch^^ a^ attempted to '^ 'fw^said wainscotinrK\hi^^^^^ enfolment of the dS?s tto th?^^^ The enabled the sons, amoi| whom w««, " ""^'""S'Service- themselves to the morf SeZ„T?K '"^i/^''^^''' *»> ^^vote {art of the professioMhe£winl,?r£t ""^'^^^^nous By various twists and turn! mv ^^?!t^"^ fid food for fifteenmo&^^o^S^^^ "^ 4e ehiirch assessments. wShal as £ mi^'^?^*^".'' ^ came less fond of rum and^th^n ^- ^X?"^"^ older, he be^ the shop after my sAndfJt^^ '' ^^l'^ ''«"' ^*»<^ kept teft-henU and^LrnormS^^L'^^^^^ ''^^'^ Wm, wL Upon the whole, his afraid underl^S^^^^ of grandmother and uhcIp T«Lk J^ °* admmistration J«ring the last five^arsTf Vh^^^^^ rather impn)ved ■••«,it<»'iUj&*ijii: ■.'U bll-OiSf • . -S^ CHAPTER H. * . • . - But the' law W oor oatttre which demandithe divorce of the spirit from the flesh which is doomed for a whdeto enshroud it, was at length made to operate «pon«>« "g^J ™S He died on the W ^Y **»«» my father became of ^leaving nothing to his children but the fortythousa^ tSueraiBSor puzil«iupon the wainscot, mtendcd to re- print bis credits, and double-damned post obits. My aunts fancying that nothingcouHbe made of them, ap- S a wet toJwel to the enuSs surface, and though the ei4 wutor. my uncle Ichabod, aaerward covered as many ^uam feet with scores against the estate of Deacon Mili- Sn!^ntly deceased, and that of John Frost, the nch blacksmith, i do not believe there ever was fifty ^f*^ collected of all the debts doe to the testator. Hapjily ^ children, thus lett unprovided with money, received a vast bheSceof health^ Being used to burfet with hardslnp^ they saw nothing to make them Tery unhappy in aft^e which admitted pf their being but little augmented. 1 he^ thought themselves sure of food and clothing, and their narrowed hopes looked for nothing more. And now cJme what, in America, is called the tuning ^ere never known W quarrel less than three times a day). lmm«<*«i«>J "P^ his marriage, he proc<#ded to do as his fothjir had dono before himT He built a small house upon the ▼«>ry verge of the ocean--so near the water that the spray and the surf were thrown by winds of more than ordinanr violenc^ ugainst his windowii and the sea-gull, tracing the devujjg course of the strand, came withm point-blank stotot mf door. He now commenced the business which had t>een that pursued by our family for oenturies—fishing, a part of the vear, of cod upon the neighbouring bhoals, or remoter George's Banks, and the remainiiig part of ^resn-];^^' fish, wid oysters for the metropolis of the colony, Bojtos. His mme will be long remembered among oystertakir^ from his having been the first to spell August with an r— Augurst, by wiSch he evaded tl?e law agamsttakmg oysters in months which had no fin them 1 He adopted other unwise customs, comrapn to my an- cestots for many generations past, such as the begetting numerous sons and daughters before he had P~v»def ** their support and maintenance, a practice against whicti l enter my solemn pi^test. He took the unhappy augmcn- tation of mouths, F mean of the num^ of mouths, all m good part however, and upon the receipt of the fine, plump little M or girl, which made its bowor courtesy abont every April, usually between the tenth and seventeenth, was sure to exclaim •♦ the more the merrier," Without the disheart- enifiKQuallftcation of "the fewer the better cheer. 10 tell the truth, and I have more than once inUmated as mueh; my father's hopes were never very high— he never looked to be made a general or a jud^e ; never h^d to see Ws chUdren « stuclo'er with titles, or huig fo^^ wrth gtrines." A plenty for them to eat iand dnnk, with Ijeaiin wd^dy clothes, ho matter how much the latter were JBPs^". n w, |0 were I^aL ' S™"* "> wy limu^lu.'^? "»• W" f«Jcr cheek or p-C^hc; S^A*^ *f'''o«Vw«Z ili> toN,; Children b^weT^i ^^^''^ ^as noVa SeaSl^^'.^^** iMt< p <«loMny nan^tkre of iieal^, btim^ and hruftot, wriiiui iiy % BtpttofJeMiy^ tht ^nrtly Mstoriin.in the^ fa^ laM«fi«f'th» bibl«rth6>Mh»tei|Ci>fen€l the it^A\}ngJbo<^, 8oni?tii|ie9y«u«#opl(ltee;on0W'iii oKi^inlXAtfcubi'trii^ Hb ,toolhftch»^ 0iHgi9nRklg|ttpi^ly With'th^ b^ oflt h$^ oti^jfoter^^ 8oiKkflttiu|^H|il ifche wnt^iT tfflijet, or «( rtMQiriaiic p«iii imck thJnHpFbr ti ttoubleiome fit of ^fit amae ffoiii aaluitf loo loai^ (^aina of «ra)^ but tb^ were uimll nwitMf^lighti iM|iii% mov^ tiOes. erils whfch Jirf not bid t»>tllat!gMiM»revil-^ ^fflifeWIfr and -wct^ •aUoBi pMtid!^h«4firather, parfaapa to be accounted amoqg it^ pleaaorea. »» J.tv. - ■ If ' ,1!,.:*' . .'*:- UfOH tfce coaat of Net«r.EiiBland;ind ! bejieve jl'ij «io same on every marine border^hat clci$8 of pojiul&^rt hr the healthieit Who live in the immediate vicinity of the ooean.^ The individuaJs Composing this class are seldom afflicted witbaWynipWttI disease eiteepting old age, whik those who dwell at some distance fVom it, and yet nbt beyond the point where its saline qualities are lost in & air, ar© afflicted with fevers, iqnd subject to ailments the former know only bjf name. ^ ^:'. ' ''■ '^ J was the third ^on and fourth (ihlM iw< 'iiii i y ; Mi.| . . ; \ V iSi t i nre-omiiwiit with th. i..«. .k- m-^.-,^ mniii i-fl i unp^idied ianguage of those by whom I was suS^uSd^ ; But when,*^^ they continued, "the boat was to bTSwed out against a nght smart sow-wester, or .teei^d o^^jf lte«„LtK"^~"' ««1 or worked to windwa^ b^ ■hort hankMhere was not Lynn's match to be found anv Tf^/K ^r ^""^ ^y '''"*' ^^^her's opinion, andU ^g echoed by all our nei^boprs .nd aoquaintanceTwho^S not fad to see in the" curly-headed knave," as they «>bd ^^^l^^"^ any ^pe^^^te is > Ay, so he will, neighbour ffedky/There is » terrible sig^t of spunk m that £>y; i dare ^ bound tKeS a f^r amongst us atpre he's ten yeara old^.'' ^% KeL^^H '^^.^"g"'^^ f ^y future fame tdth a beatite he^^and a glowjng cheek, for my hopes wel-e S bounded by the.prcfeasion of my fet4. my voSui S copld look np,%her than^be dSun^is"e/rU^^^^ ^id t^fi^r ^"•^'*'^* «^'^vated at this Sme fc ejection to fill the chair of the America^ prfesiS^vL^, 1^ ,»Ir. ^ith~/c^,^p3,tbVlibpat of picked «i^^: ■^T^, ^^.: ■"/!■ HAVa&BILL. 13 To be made the companion of Lem. Clark, and Phil. King, and Eb. Pease, and above all, of Harlow Crosby, who could " tend four lines in sixty fathoms of water," ay, and mate with them, t. e. receive 9n equal portion of the fish caught, was more than I could well bear : — it did for me what flattery does for a beanty, — spoiled me, at least for a while. I gave myself great airs among my brothers, sis- ters, and playmates ; took to puffing cigars ; wore my hat ipon one side of my head ; tied a handkerchief stuffed with cotton, vulgarly called a "pudding," around my neck, 80 as to envelope my chin ; affected consequence in my gait, and became upon the whole so haughty and ungov- ernable, that my father was compelled to adopt the mode of reproof which parents are, in general, very loath to adopt till expostulation is found of no use, and threats have ceased to intimidate. •♦ Lynn," said he, " I see how it is ; you must go with me to the barn." What my father did when he got me there, I shall never tell. I could have borne &iy other punishment unmoved, but the disgraceful one he thought proper to inflict, filled me with grief for a month. It cured me effectually, however. I deserved it, for no British midshipman of twelve, or American " master of arts" of eighteen, ever carried more official hauteur and superciliousness than I did upon my appointment to this seat in a fishing-boat. Nor should this excite wonder. The general at the head of an army of half a million,— Alexander at Issus, Tamer- lane at Angora, CsBsar at Pharsalia, — ^who has succeeded in tearing the diadem of empire from the brows of an oppo- nent, of equal means and valour, derives not more plea- sure from his victory, nor is more inflated by his success, than the simple husbandman who has carried away from a dozen competitors "the Society's medal for a prize ox." Beauty, glory, wealth, ste^gth, with every other quality, physical or mental,are but relative terms— wonder not,then, at my simple ambition, and the cheap terms upon which my self complacency was satisfied. If my readers will recall to their memory the blissful period of early youth, they will find that joys as simple as mine, and hopes as easily satis- VOL. 1.—* H '«: ^ li I 'II /• } I' '-V « Iff. f/ f 14 fied. HAVERHILL. TV ere the gems in its cup of felicity. Then in whipping a Vo^iH^inrabaTl^w^^^^ r^S acqu.renr,ents ; to be allowed an extra hour oFZy 1?^ unexpected holyday, were ^^orth any week's enRent^ the period between twenty-five and forty De i^hSul^. nod ! our hfe should be all such, for then existence's decked out with the robes of the Rainbow ._®^'''^"''® '^ N« caro ass&ils our bosoms, such as when Our infancy is passed, and we go forth as men. ««?.r' "L* ^'"""^ """ *!l® ^'^^^n that I found employment and acquired renown. The ordinary business of mv fSr acTv^L'ason: r^^^'^'!?^-^^^^"^ eveSe'mt: aciive seasons, was frequently interrupted bv those tpm Aew-England in the spring and autumn. When I could w4 L&.^ "^? f •'«'' "'""''• "••'» " was too damp to lay out those caught and oartlv cureA upon the "flakes" to dry. and when the seasoKffiS was past, I went to labour for the neighbounW ferS ^ways commanding the first call md fhTwS"fs[ ™S because I worked with unreluctent sinews. fspa,S^5 VZ^ P'f r- ''»^'"<"? y w">"ght wHh both haW "Itf I can t get Lynn HaTerhill, «fe„ you may come" wLi the P^m^inXirfir'^ banners to application ret sai^^^^t^''"'"*^'™*°''"°''««»"y"'«»'" ^ G^m^el! *^ """' *""""' ^^ ' ^"^^ ''"*^'" "'^ »«*>'• " I take a great interest in HaTerhill's third son," said the "f'oW Mr*^- "'I''- , "Ir"**"'" continued iheTtter! of l™l^« f T" "■:".'' u"*^ ''^^P'"8 hi", in hi. present line .lm».!ifh J '»"^««»"' ™* him at some convenient a vn„?h Ift™''J""- "• T?'"* absolutely bfe a sin to keep k^ge." °ori,nroKr '" " '^■""' """ " '^'■ ™;y Mr4rsitih''™hry: '^^e%^^^^ my potato-field there wa, a th^d more work done wilh RAVBRniLL. 15 •me," was the the same number of men than there was on the day after he left us." Few thanks gave I to the friendly eulogists who coun- selled a change of vocation. As yet I could conceive of no higher honour or greater usefulness than was to be found in the calling of my ^ther and ancestors. Had one offered to transfer me from John Smith's boat to Eton school I should have laughed at the proposal. If my employers in the field and on the water gave me unqualified praise for my industry, there was one man with whom I came oflen ia contact, whose opinions and reports were little to my credit, and this was the schoolmaster. He assured my parents and every body else that I was the greatest dunce in the colony, and I believe his opinion was grounded on sufficient premises. Not that he imputed to me want of natural talent — no such thing — he attributed the small progress I made in learning to my extreme inat- tention, recklessness, and love of fun. "I don't know what to make of him, or what to do with him," said he ; " but it is mischief, mischief, roguery, roguery, from morning till night. When I go to prayers, ten to one when I rise from my cusliion ifl don't leave my wig upon the chair to which the rascal has tied it ; and if 1 attempt to smoke in a pipe which has laid a single minute unnoticed, or if I do not carefblly beat it out before I use it, I am sure to find 'r.. filled with powder, and go off like a rocket. 1 am certain there never was his equal for roguery since the world began." The schoolmaster's suspicion of the cause of my making so little progress in learning was pe* fectly correct. I hated books ; it was not without much difficulty that I was coaxed as far as the trisyllabical page of Dilworth's spelling-book, or made to sort the letters which went to the spelling of my own name. I had^ as I have said, an inordinate love of boyish recreation and iVolic, a disposition which could scarcely be checked by labour, much less kept under by the restraints imposed by the pedagogue. It was a kind of overflow of health and animal spirits, a bursting by the latter of the shackles put on by those whose vivacity had been sobered by time, and who could feel no sympathy with the gay boy. That is a strange feeling which leads us, when old age has stolen upon us, to find sensible pleasure JA <•*¥*» ■■xmtiUr.Miit*:*., ,...*ilfe>-... 16 RAVBRBILL. !' (^ m . i checking the current of youthful joys, and in fastening a gray beard upon a downy cheek. Yet so it is, the more age chills our own feelings, the greater appears our anxiety to transfer a portion of the withering influence to those by whom it is yet unfelt. There was far more pleasure for me in mischief, and so I followed it in preference to poring over dictionaries, and "readers," corderies, and copy-books. | could go three miles to nail up Jemmy Clevelend's windows and doors, or to fasten a board over the flues of an old negro woman's chimney, or to roll a cart-wheel, in the dead of the night, down a steep hill, against Ben Stewart's cabin, and throw my whole soul into each task ; but I hated the sight of a book, and the sound of one reading was purgatory to me. I have been five miles in a dark night to elevate a pole with a marine flag at the end of it, upon the high cliff's of Wabsquoy, that it might be mistaken, the next morning, for a stranded vessel, and so attract crowds from far and near. I was the leader of the press-gang, which went four miles to * press' a poor old blind man into his majesty's service, and which only released him upon his sisters producing, for our use, her ample store of pies and tarts. I could shoot wild fowl, and track wild beasts, strike a ball further and more surely ; — in running a foot-race give a tenth part vantage,yet reach the goal first : I could break a colt, or manage a plea- sure boat, and do all these tasks with great ability and out of pure love ; but my ambition went no further. They could not make me see the use of learning. No man could catch more fish than John Johnson, and he could not have counted to a hundred if the mines of Peru had been offered as a recompense. And old Mr. Isaac Smith, of Lumbert's Cove, who could tell a dog-fish from a haddock the moment it caught the hook, did not know the letters of the alphabet. The greatest quantity of fish ever brought from the Banks in one season was taken by Jo. Johes and his four brothers, who were the most ignorant men alive. So 1 came to the conclusion that all learning was useless, since the men I was most anxious to rival were enabled to achieve such splendid deeds without it. " We'll see, father," said I, in answer to my kind parent's expostulations with me for my idleness, " who catches most fish next year, HAVERHILL. 17 Le. Coates or I. He spelt some big, long word yesterday —what was the word, Jack ?" " Constantinople," answered Jack. « Spelled Constantinople, and went up to the head of the class, crowing like a cock. And yet put him on old Mr. Trapp's colt, and see if he can sit there as I did, or let him try to beat a boat through Quickse's river in a dark night — we'll rest the matter upon that." My father, seeing that expostulation was of no use with me, gave over for that time, and suffered things to take Iheir natural course. CHAPTER IV. But when two years more had put me upon a deeper train of thought, and a little sobered my boyish vivacity, and when a circumstance of a peculiarly painful nature, to be mentioned in another place, had enabled me to see the withering contempt, and hear the biting taunts and sarcasms bestowed upon ignorance, I betook myself, with an eager- ness quite as unreasonable as my former idleness, to the acquiring of the knowledge without which a man may be- come good, but never great. I have before remarked, that from infancy it had been my strong trait to pursue every thing I undertook with unconquerable ardour and perseverance. And now, at the very late age of fourteen years, and in stature almost a man, behold me seated upon the same bench with the " a b, aVs" the derision of those whom I had derided, the scoffer scoffed at. But I com- menced my long delayed studies with a determination to make up for lost time and misspent hours, and I succeeded in wiping off the disgrace. It took me some time to bring my mind to relinquish my old amusements and play-fellows, but at length such a resolution was actually formed, put in practice, and persevered in. I take pleasure in declaring that my pride was first roused, and my attention first drawn to books and learning by the sarcasms of a female, 2* ',-■{- u\i>,0t^-m v.,m< ,ir^fim<>' ^MWi fci«.Jlfc.JMlMl>i..#>'- 18 ll m ^ m * HAVKRHIIL. «?i&^ and aftenva^ co. l^rne lovely and gen le beinr I T n"' °^ *'"^^'' by ^^^^ hour when I made the unnJeafantdt'" ""^"/' ^""'Set thl the brightest oyes that eVS- S.f''''^7 ^^^^ a Pair of were weeping from very wfe f."^ *^"- ^""»«" ^^^ word "wo*e,~noseon^r&K* "^y misspelling the It were the plural of the^egaS ? 7f''^l' '' ^^«"gh that I should feel so much pU "* ' ^^''^ "^^ before think «ot tax me with bein|l^^:f " ^ '"^ ^^ ^^^'-hTd otherwise rivalled in pugSc or L ^^"^^ '" ^^^rs, or remember well that there was aW^'i'^ exercises. I which finally swelled into Tdeafin ^^ ,^^"^^«' tetter, and further remember and shall n!^'"^^^''^ ^^ ^«"ghter bpng my head for shame and ?- "^^^ ^^^'^ ^^^» ' kind, good, sweet, little MarvrJ'' ''?^^^ *^ '"y eyes, countenance in which viS^^vmrTth' ^""'l^^ "P'^"^ a and regret for having particLaffi*^^ "^''^-""y ^^^^ring g^mgwith a strong ifshS was pervading thel-est of Z "ch J,^' merriment which whicn had vexed me • I dJU ^' ^* ^a^ her laugh others, having, in mV otn handTth"'^^ ^"' ^«* «^tK ample vengeance upon Jheni t' ^^t.™^an. of taking Case, who had echoeTwth^mnh"'?' .?°'^«° «"d Saul J?^at.on " Oh, the big boZV^^'i^ ^^ '"aster's excla- Jght his command to « po7e thefr fi ^^^^ ^^*^ ^^^at de- fog with little effort, ha?w£l\^^^^^^^ ^^' i could Jeast ; and I proposed to mvsei? Iff ^ T'^ «^ ^'^^es at what virtue there was n 2nfl' f* «^^««J-hours, to try aughmg gent^. TheTe were^ mattr^''"'' "^ '^^ ^'^'^ thought, however. But Marv V -J? ,'.^^''c« worth a pered Maiy, the idol of the ^i^fe " ["^' ^"^' ^weet-tem- « village," whose step was LhfPr^^''?'? ^^^ P«t of the was .weeter than tfe mu c^ of ^^t^ ^f ^^^ grove, w.hose face was alwnv! J ^^^^^onsters of the never said a cross w^or^^^^'rrr'^j" ^"^''^*' ^^o she for whom, in the 4^«t sea^^^^x'^K^?"^,^ action- highest trees in the forest? tf savp ,\' ^^"^ ^""^^ed the ventured into the jaws of 0^1 rl Growler; and far whom I haH^fh J?,^'"^ *'''^«« dog, «^ seacoast in search V a « iwf^"^ ^" many miles ^ i^)Uuguese man-of-war,* yuv^Kmti, and afterward con- jes of truth" by the " never foi^et the >very that a pair of ip the human face tny misspeJJing the PeJIing It as thoueh Id not before think ny gibe which did equal in years, or astic exercises. I md general titter, peal of laughter: *rget that when I shed to my eyes, ooked up, with a lyith my suffering 'ingitwerestrug- tnerriment which t was her laugh sn for that of the ttieani of taking 5rdon and Saul 5 master's excla- ' with great de- « me," I could ore of times at )ol.hours, to try ral of the other carce worth a ind, sweet-tem- the pet of the • s, whose voice oristers of the fi smiles, who »ome action— d climbed the »et lamb I had I's cross dog, o many miles man-of-war,'* 19 because she had expressed a wish to see one— to have her join in the laugh, to see her ruby lips display the pearls which lurked behhid them, made my very heart ache. It was the closing lesson of the day in which my pride re- ceived Its wound— and a fortunate circumstance it wa», for I could not have restrained my tears much longer, and should have incurred further ridicule by weeping in the presence of the whole school. I stole out of the house in great tribulation, and with my spirits so completely paralyzed, that, for once, I stifled my thirst for vengeance, and concluded to defer flogging Jem Gordon, and stoning Sam Davis and Saul Case till a day of renewed enercn^ In ill-regulated country schools there is usually a strife to see who shall first leave the school-house, and as much hustling takes place as there does among a crowd of Lon- don pickpockets on Lord Mayor's day. On this day I made extraordinary exertions to get out, not so much for the honour of mastery as to avoid Mary. Hitherto it had been my invariable custom to wait at the door until she had adjusted her cloak or her shawl, as the season de- manded one or the other, and put on her bonnet and gloves, that I might lend her my assistance to cross the rude bndge thrown over the neighbouring streamlet. To- day I made no pause, but I heard from the noisy crowd of giddy urchins behind me shouts of « the bridge, Lynn, the bridge ; help Mary Danvers over the bridge," coupled with other cries of « nose— nose on your face," and mixed with the noisy remonstrances of the few who kindly clung to my fallen fortunes, and defended me from the taunts and reproaches so liberally showered upon me. But I was fleet of foot, almost as fleet as a wild colt, and soon left both friends and foes far behind me. I could see them, however, for minutes after I had ceased to hear them, throwing their caps imd hats into the air, with as much joy at my discomfiture as a nation of the old world would have testified for the death of a tyrant— or the birth of one. As the usual road to my home was much too public for one labouring under a consciousness of deserved disgrace, I took an unfrequented path which would screen me in «ome measure from observation. It was true it led over so ii^vxRnLt. a morass, an almost impassable morass, but what wer« hogs and quagmires, wet feet and fevers, to meeUnfCJl or hearing the dreadful sound "nose on y^^fai'^' edge of the bog, and then, secure as I thought from inter. for me to shed tears; the last three years, boy as I vef berr^r r"''"^ "J^^^lf with making a hedge of whortle -'i^T^ "y ''''*»'"' whispered at my shouK I looked up hastily, and there stood Mary Danvers I rtr^ielXr'' "^ ■" r^,"" *" 'his^ituZrwilh t^£i?! -^S,^-hro.l^xrd«4 p^rdto^rdeiito^'dis^LT^^^^^^ «ud js: hTrrgt-^iS,™- tr^i tft; ^t?.f,rih:f''i"£L;'if^re"^^^^^^^^^ sooner crjr than laugh/' "^"""^ ^^^^" ^ ^°"^d "I know you could not help lauffhine Marv" c«,-^ t « J do not b ame vou for InnM.Jncr t ^' T' ®^'^ ** HAVERHILL. 21 but what were ^ meeting Mary, | ^our face." I | [ came to the ;ht from inter- t a usual thing s, boy as I yet a-dozen times, e, or Rachael enough to get •Hen but dned ?e of whortle- voice, which I am sure I sweetly pain- ty shoulder Danvers. I ituation, with y employed J and more — I forbade my not come a snakes, and other things )n as trifles ? uch deep in- it, nor was I I laughed," r«, and her t help it. I ain I would ry»" said I. they say, a my endeav- p and fre- u laughed; e need Jbe "Ah, but, Lynn, why will you not strive to sink that name in one which shall mean and sound something better? It is a bad word — * booby.' It is, believe me, quite as easy for you to acquire a name for learning as for igno- rance ; you may become as celebrated for your industry and good behaviour in school, as you have been for good behaviour, barring your mad pranks, out of it. Read and study as you work and play, and you will soon become a great scholar. The same diligence which lias caused you to be first in whatever manual pursuit you have undertaken, exerted upon books, would place vou at the head of your class in a very few weeks, at the head of the school in a very few months." ♦• I cannot learn, Mary." " You will not learn, Lynn." " No, I cannot learn." "Did you try?" " Yes," and I held down my head, sheepishly, with a fear of being probed further. "When?" " Last — Monday." « Thought, maybe, to finish your education by Tuesday night, We'n'sday morning at farthest ? Oh, Lynn. — ^But I will not add to your griefs. That you have made so lit- tle progress in learning is not because your Maker has withheld talents from you, but because you are — I don't wish to grieve you, Lynn, but I must speak the truth, — a very idle boy, as regards learning, not in any thing else— • oh, no, not idle in any thing else, — and spend in play and mischieif — ^why will you do so, Lynn? — the hours which, properly employed, would, papa says, make a very great man of you by-and-by." " Mary," I asked, " did your papa say this of me ? if he did, he's a kind old gentleman, and the next time I go into his meadows with the scythe, I'll cut so much grass that he'll think Old Nick has helped me. But did he say so ?" " Did you ever know me tell an untruth ?" " Never. Oh, yes, I forget, once." " Me fib, Lynn ! how dare you say it ?" <'You said that never while you lived would you n-' lljj ^H 1 1 ^'J 1 .1-1 fl |i, ?',: iH Fn*^ ^H Vk :H 1 1 93 Haverhill. W' llf of life vrith himQPlf i ^j * u * '" *"® ^^"^^ sphere Crosbyfand Je«ipr aTd HetrR .r"" ?"^t^* experienced fishermen thr.."^ ^""*'"' «"<< "'''ef «»«. you d„T:nhS;k,ieS.s iron*? ^"i*^*"" ieldom calls any body neiffhHn.n^. k- ?'i~~P®P^ ^®7 natured when h^e doL :f!:;ou ^ Simon of tying that noble boyTwn to a fi^?1;2''^*'''''"' do you ? He was bom T nL „ ^".'^ ^ lish-boat always, £what m mrfa'S^rer?:?' '^' -"^"^ "e J .'• KendS'iat"L^nih:^i'^T '"«?'•»<'''»•''''<• Mr. fear he wiirneSer L a„vT„a h^.r^tu" *« '<='«x>'- « almost fifteen and among the tS hZ' ^^7 '"{ °"» I cannot now undertakp fr! r^o ? !u ^^^ '" ^^^ school. :^ :/il HAVBRHILti 2S niJes to shoot the [college, you will not have, like him, to fill your gatchel with linusty old Greek and Latin books. Strive to excel in those Ibranches of learning which will be of every-day use to you ; learn to read, write, cipher, (the curl of her little ruby lip hinted at the next word), above all, learn to — \ spell, (she could scarce restrain her laughter, even while her eyes were full of tears), and you may become a creat man — no not a very great man, without other study or I acquirement than these." "How you can talk, Mary?" said I, unable to repress my admiration for what I conceived to be her tran- scendent powers of speech. " How did you get all this knowledge ?" "Oh, I have very little knowledge ; but what I have I got as you must get it, if you ever get it, by study, hard study," " And I — will be idle no more. From this day — " " What ?" she demanded, and her eyes glowed with the lustre of the diamond. " From this day I will be idle no more. I will hence- forward strive to acquire a character for industrv in school as well as out of it. If I do not learn now, it shall not be for want of attention." " Oh ! I am so glad, Lynn," exclaimed the bright-eyed little beauty, shaking back the glossy ringlets which fell over her rosy cheeks and lily neck, and blushing deeply at her own eager joy, while she continued her delightful gossip, which I could have listened to for a century, t* Now you will soon be at the head of the class." " Oh, Mary, how can you say so ? Just think where I am now— just recollect that I am a great booby, and see how small the chance is that I shall ever be any thing else." " I recollect that you are now a great, very great oooby, but I know you well enough to know that you will not remain so long. Your pride and ambition are awakened, and now we shall see you do wonders. Oh, I'm so glad — if I were the little bird upon that limb yondeu, how I would fly ! Well ! I shall not get the " reward of merit" for going to the head of the class any more, but I don't care for that — indeed I shall be very glad to lose it to you. And you will soon * go above' Jem Gordon, the good-for- nothing fellow, and Ned Dawkins, and Sam Davis, and all the laughers. Oh ! I am so glad !" 7? ( |T-' '^^i^^l :|: In •)^ J ill l |fal i (^'fm IH h 1, "V'^l i>.-,t ! 't^E'^^l i^k •A flJIf^H 1 "But I shall make very little headway* at first Marv " Sewnrxfto^'^T*'"'^. ^y^'' recolLtion thitlTo; Knew next to nothuig—that, at the ace of fifteen I hZ iterally to commence with the alphafet-lto"b^i„\vSh iSid'ror?- " ^' '"^ ™^"^^ "'" ^ « month oTshi:!' Ann?^^^ T '° ' t^^ ^^'''"^ ^^ Wicked may laugh, but dont |„,nd th the smiles of the wise and go^ C make up for the.r scoffs. And when you have bf auhrm tlien will come your time to laugh " '"' menSlyT '' ^^"^'^^ '^° «y"«^^«« '" I ^claimed, half " That will be only for a few dnvo T k..* and h^a Vltr^- .*?" "^'""'■'iw we will study earl, ^ „M t. "'t*5'«^'-'"'"«'. and on other days wfcn vou muours are ended, you shall come to the m-eat Tarrh troo '' Wha?t^^^^^^ «-^-' or to^he s 5"' •^^ ' h.^ Z*u' the stile wliere I found the litUe girl cryinff whn hadbst herself,and tomher frock ?" ^ crymgwho Yes, the sUle about which you tease me so mnrh »♦ ooU " And the larch it diall be, Mary." have"r„Tso^';„'""i.i:r''"°l r*J'«° y» *« •%' ■AVEnifTLL. y* Qt first, Mary," lection that I now ■ of fifteen, I had 3t — to * begin with a month of shame ed may laugh, but se and good will LI have beat them, ' I exclaimed, half [—but you mu8t , Lynn.** sail the beautiful will study early r days when you g, or when those great larch-tree, othe stile." B girl crying who le so much," said I of this little in- (ut I had rather his to you that 'hich meanders ot its sparkling ►es confinement, as it rolls orer :, are not loud Jly intent upon study intently, lew book, very ^ I am now, to jress," in England kcing at aea.— jE^ii. 35 be sure, I did not know, till next day, that there was thunder and lightning while I sat reading and looking over it. And as for the sighing of the wind through th? branches of the old tree, and the rustling of its leaves, and the creaking of its limbs, I always thought I could get my lesson much easier for such sounds. But, if either the stream or the tree disturb you, I will ask papa to let us sit in the summer-house, or, when the weather is cold or wet, in his study. R .. always says he loves to please his little Mary, and, besides, I am quite sure he will be glad to see his predictions of your becoming a great man made true." The words of the prediction sounded so pleasant tha< I caused her to repeat them. " And he jocosely told your father," she added, blushing slightly, " that perhaps you would marry into some great family yet." " I think I shall ; I think I shall marry you, Mary," said I ; " you would make a charming little' wifey— that is, if you won't get in the brambles again, and tear your frock." " Oh, gracious me, Lynn ! but you will never marry any body, till you have learned to — " "Spell, you are going to say; but don't say it, Mary ; I don't love to hear you say it." " But will you come to the school-house ?" "Will Hive?" " I hope so." " If I live I will be there. No,— yes,— let me think. Tuesday I work for Deacon Reed ; We'n'sduy I am hired — no, nothing for to-morrow." " You must come eveiy day, when you can. I will teach you all I know, and I will be industrious myself, and get more learning, just for the sake of imparting it to you." " Oh, how good you are, Mary. I wish Growler would sprmg at your pet lamb again, and then I could do some- thing to repay you for your good advice, and all you are offering to do for me." "You may pay me without Lammy's incurring any danger. You may be a good boy, Lynn, and that will more than pay me." i ^ "Ah, but, Mary." Vol. Lr-3 L tVf, W 96 HAVERHILL. i: m" Hi o8^'r ^y/' '' ^^""' ' •^""'^ ^™' ^y P-y. «» don't you ™" ''"'i' 7"" '■omsmber how much, the sprina before l»,t you wished to see a hum-bird's egg s Now ni .T ' there has been for some days pa? a hum b'i,vl hT' smallest bit of a thing you eversaw.X&ou.t I'SJEeStte'-tfrK hL'SS^-" '" «■»§•' it *0"W be built on tit sli^l on 'hftr most bough of the larch which overhangs ir^"*^ ''P' Ji ^ ^'T' ^"^ *^^ t^^^J^s shall be mine » ^^ My lovely httle monitress now rose to go. I wisheH much to attend her, but she declined. I urged the an proachmg darkness, the owls that flitted at nightfal in Z FXr^"^'}^'^! b"^-^rd, which some saifwa Peg^ Collets murdered baby, and other difficulties, rial or s?f posed, but she was positive, and set off alone I ft^bS her,however,keep.ng carefully out of her sight, und llaw her pass the buzzard's-tree and the great wood within birds of wisdom, and was sure that the ircToSt,i,f tTmytmr''^"' '^^^ "^^ abroad, and CtS JCtLTsirjr^^^^^^^^^ time in my life unbidden, take a Zir by"h; te tithi book m my hand, and busy myself till a LhouTwith studymg the next day's lesson. The sheep shmanne7ln which I commenced, together with the^cLS thev evinced to know what had occasioned the change and the odd ways hey took to express their pleasure afiheVew direction given to my ideas, even now, when more than^ quarter of a century has passed away,'neve?fai?to exdte a smile, chastened as my feelings are by the recollS llttr^a^t^^'"^'^ ""''''' belovei circle wte upon the outside of ti;erm,7ooK sXTb^oHrt H :A\ >ay, so don't you nAVERHILL. 27 the shelf, and without looking up, drew a settle near tho candle by which my father was working. He laid down his net ; wiped his spectacles, and adjusted them again ; my mother also laid by her work, and both surveyed me and my new occupation with intense curiosity. " Why, look, Jenny," said my father to my mother, " if that isn't a sight then I wish you would tell me where I shall find one !" " It won't last long ; the fit will be off in a minute or two," said Jack. " He'll havt) the 'stericks, I am afraid," said James. My roguish little brother Michael made a pair of leather spectacles, to be used in my examination when I should have finished the lesson, and the madcap Sally asked the nature of my occupation through the boat-trumpet. The old house dog « Boatswain," waked up from his slumbers by the noise, came running to know what the uproar was about, and to have a shai'e in it. But when they, dog and all, saw that their good-natured derision brought tears to my eyes, they were at my side in a moment, and, with kisses and pleading looks, besought my pardon. Fond but unavailing are my regrets for the many of that kind group who have fallen, to use an Indian metaphor, "like leaves in the harvest moon." Brothers, all but one, gone, gone, — perished before my eyes by hunger, thirst, and suffering ; my adored mother laid in the dust of a broken heart, my beautiful sister-— but God giveth, and He taketh away, blessed be His name. I did not retire to my straw pallet that night till want of sleep compelled me. The next morning I was at the school-house an hour before the master. Early as it was there was one there before me,— my little i^receptress. I found her seated, in anxious suspense, fearing my relapse from my virtuous resolution, upon the master's desk, an eminence which enabled her to look down the path by which her newly engaged pupil usually made his appearance. " Ah, now I have hopes of you, but I feared you would not come," she cried. "And yet you know that, hitherto, when I hdi^fsaid * I will do this' or * I will do that,' I never yet mm, at least, to try to do it." ■*^" # J.1 28 HAVERHILL. " Assistant" Jr ^ ^^ ^^^ ^^^^ ^'6 studied. The ■ but to me fresh «« tho ^ iJ^ ^®' ^"^ ^®'' extremely trite, paper I ever suK w» ?'' ^^'^^^ ^^^ ^^^t sheet of books apd .he LS oflS^"^ «cqua,„.ance «ith proclaim me ^ pZi^^ '^' "'^ "^ "«'='«'' ^egan to T^ deacon followed him in silence. ^iT • ^«^ed the deacon. ^ RATERHUX. 29 3son. It was now the master's chair, both-— with a little with one of my nd depending on h one of hers, in e studied. The led down by her r extremely trite, ^born babe, wer^ s. She gave out what vowels, and s, and mutes, and in writing from he first sheet of ection. Do not ►ings took place that time but to 've should do on iirsday were the i resolving the quaintance with ssive day, in the asses were dis- od out in bold naster began to ant, « step this 1 you;" and he srable distance ' ) wait at the xclaimed Mr. all. • it, nor in my sic authors — lave a pretty Greeks and ** Why, yes, Mr. Kendall, I have always heard so." " Well, I will say that all of them put together cannot produce a parallel to this astonishing case." " Bless me, why, what is it ?" " You know Lynn Haverhill, I think ?" " Perfectly." *' Well, three week's ago he could not spell words of two syllables, * baker,* ♦ ladder,' and the like, and now it would do your heart good to see him take a tug with * phthisic,' * cachexy,' and other hard dogs of that class. Well, I vow if they are not setting the tune, and you not in the deacon's seat." My altered habits soon became the theme of the village. I gave up play entirely, concluded a firm treaty of peace, and stipulated for a full amnesty and oblivion of past offences with Jemmy Cleveland, Black Beck, and Ben Stewart, burned my bat and sold my shooting gun. Books now afforded me greater delight than ever boyish sports had done. It is unnecessary to say that my progress in learning was' great ; for what will not untiring diligence, aided by a respectable share of talent, achieve ? When one gives fifteen hours of the twenty-four to his studies, and dreams about them the remaining nine, it is hard if he do not imbibe a portion of their spirit. My little preceptress appeared to feel prouder than any one else of my improve- ment, and could scarce conceal her joy w hen, in less than three months, I stood at the head of the senior spelling- class, and received withal the master's commendation for being the " best reader and the readiest cipherer in the school." And when lie called me to him, and shook my hand, and named me aloud as a happy example of what diligence and resolution could do towards improving and fortifying the mind, amidst the voices raised to testify their joy at m^ success, and concurrence in the praise bestowed upon me, that of Mary was, at least by me, the most dis- tinctly heard. I am sure I never felt so much pleasure before in helping her over the stile and the bridge as I did that night ; and it may be mentioned as another circum- stance, evincing the peculiar nature of my feelings at the moment, that I passed the hours of a bright moonlight evening in repauring the hedge around the ant-hill. 3* 30 HAVERHILL. m- CHAPTER V. Two years more of my life passed away in the routine of duties which had marked its earJy period, durin/wh ch never mortal exhibited greater industry than I did Not an hour, or its tithe, was wasted in any idle pursuk. My old associates came often with stories of mischief to l3e BuT;'nl2"f r?f " T'^*'"S'^ " ^"d the Hke, at ucJ and for i^ P T 'i ^' *^''^ ^^"^' h^d ^«^«^d t« have pleasure for me : I seldom went, and never but to please my sisters In the fishing season I was never missing from m/faS boat, and I was a regular assistant in the periodical labours of the husbandman-at the times when it did not interfere with my regular pursuit. When occupied with nehher of ^TJTl'7^' ?^*^^^ ^' my pleasure to stuS^-L or out of school, ,t made no difference which, since my appH^ eauon suffered no abatement by a license to go at lame I missed my httle instructress for a couple of months inTe ^ry depth of winter ; but she was a bird of pLsage and always returned with the daisy and the robin sime- S Z^:""- *^" T"'^"" ^^^ ^«°^' '^^ '^^^ to the school house even m winter,-.a very fair day almost invariably drew her out,-but, being of tender health, she was seWom permitted to expose herself to the winter air, and had^ tutor toattend her at home. This was a very'unusual cir^ EnXr^nH^'^ T.'^'^^ ^^P^^P'^' ^' '^^' time, in New. England,^d created a great deal of wonder and village ^S' .. ^'- ^"'>^ '""^^^^ *h^^ kn«wn were "town! schools/ mstitutions which were supported by a £6^1 TTTr '^^ '"habitants, creating a specific fu^idou ^which the master was paid for \Ss services, and the charges for house-rent, fire-wood, &c. were defrayed A number of the most intelligent men in the Ssh ^stituted a "school-committe'e," and thfs commS determined the number of children to be sent and by whom they should be sent, taking care that S most indigent famihe. should h^ the fullest lepreLnted Xy p»' %^ HAVERHILL. 31 were, in their original conception, nothing more than charity-schools, but the general poverty of the people, and iheir dispersion over a large tract of country, combined to give them a character rather above that of mere eleemosynary institutiomi, by intermixing with the children of the poor the children of parents of a higher grade. The influence these public or town schools have had on the American character has never been fully appreciated, if fully comprehended, by them. They have contributed more than any and all other circumstances whatever to keep up the equality which, theoretically at least, is the keystone of that government. In those schools all ranks are intermixed, and intimacies are there contracted which assist on the one hand in keeping down the proud, and on the other in exalting the humble. The effect of the assimilation, caused by this intermixture, of the children of the poor with those of a better condition, is felt throughout American society. During the space ip which I was deprived of the assist- ance of my little preceptor, I studied such books as she recommended, carefully passing by every page not pencil- marked by her own hand. But neither the occasions for seeking her assistance, nor the opportunities for obtaining it were lessened by her temporary confinement. She could not, as I said, come to the school-house, so I was obliged to go very often to her father's house, to consult her upon various perplexities which occurred to me in my studies, difficulties which thickened, and darkness which increased every hour. Sometimes I forgot the quantity of time in a colon, and whether the accent, in a certain supposed case, should fall on the penult or the antepenult : and my recol- lection of the spelling and pronunciation of words faltered, at times, most lamentably, so that I had very often to con- sult Coles, and Sheridan, and Bailey, the best editions of whose dictionaries were only to be found in the library of Judge Danvers. Then this same library was a treasure of history, and history was my delight — it was a study with which Mary had taught me to be pleased. I borrowed almost every book in the collection, read them, or found, or pretended to find, cogent reasons for not reading them, returned them, and sometimes borrowed them again for a m :>\ 32 HAVERRILL. *■■ {< ^ S »l U reperusal, or to find an opportunity for chanffin<» mv formp*' tTdTckreV'^Tr""* and valuefand hencf of gofng K CO declare it. There was no end to the DrPtPv7« t ?« j and the excuses I made for visiting 2.isLC?SrI Zh' when summer came, making the woods an aviafv and tS meadows a carpet, peopling the earth, the a"r3lhe wafer with shapes of beauty, and filling them with sounds ofTp 1 pouT'^g a balmy sei^nity over hill and vdTtS 2 I fisherman^ thTcrariiiLVuj^r rdir i "' '^^ '^ ^-^ -' sion to inducVafoS poverty imposed upon me^hard labour bothT/tf^lii terably happy by the soft tones of Mary's voice and Z" violii,, and Ma^r sangTnl^itaW?" T'^f, '"a ^''^ °" '^ par!ittortr'S:~te„°3r""=''*-^^^"'''''"« parent suffering from fever. sZ^'ZaZS^tl^ ^.. HAVERHILL. 33 [rendezvouB, though not so often as before, and she avoided me whenever she could. Once, whenever her eyes met mine, they glowed with pleasure at the en- counter ; at the same occurrence now they were quickly ' cast down, and her cheeks became suffused with blushes. I Formerly, every meeting, even that which took place at I the church-door, upon sabbath-days, was sure to produce the lively exclamation of " Ah, Lynn !" and " k it you, Lynn ?" and " How do you do, Lynn !" accompanied by a good-natured smile, and sometimes by a shake of the hand. Sometimes she would find an opportunity to whisper some little piece of childish nonsense about " spelling words of one syllable," and what must be " thought of a boy who couldn't spell — nose — nose on his face." And then she would dart away playfully, holding up her httle fist, scarce larger than a tolerably sized peacn, in a sham menace of displeasure. She had not altogether discontinued coming to our ren- dezvous ; but when she came, and while there, her dread of somebody — I could not tell who» or some painful feeling, I could not guess its nature, — so disturbed her that my young affection, not yet known to me by the n^me of love, whispered tiiat I was doing wrong to court these interviews, now so productive of uneasiness to the lovely girl. From time to time I tried to inspire myself with resolution to say to her that, since they seemf "■ to be the cause of regret, and to give her pain, it would be best to discontinue them. But when I^aw her and heard her voice ; when that face, so surpassingly beautiful, was before my eyes, and those tones, so gentle, sweet, and affectionate, were sounding in my ears, it was more than I could have done, had a realm been named as the recompense, to speak of separation. I could not make up my mind to dash the cup of felicity from my lips " just yet," and remained silent. What my own resolution could never have persuaded me to do, was effected by hers, taxed to the act, as I learned afterward, by the counsels or the commands of her mother. But of this hereafter. In the mean time, I set myself down to discover the cause. of the change in her behaviour, and of her visible and increasing reluctance to meet me. I had surely given // » 34 HAVERHILt. c|.a,e nor exZtl' ^Zf^oS/uZfl tiT^^^ '"" idle-— on the cnnimrxr i ho i i ^ ' * "^'' "^t been French than T Z' done wUh^aW Pl^^-^'^-^y '" long aequatatlce-thrng »tt-fa^^^^^^ » happy, for'& couM S .V'"^h;:h\ ^''™''' "^ It IS out of my power tc paint how miie- able and I often up a 1 to go and g Sleep noloi nor ir deligl: ask he "I taugh nance die to no m 'list ir of al( lever was a associ to be rock I the ill thithe: and I Th a half my fs south with ! maine decay BIAVERHILL. m rable I became in consequence of suspicions. My days and nights were days and nights of sorrow and anguish ; aften 1 rose and went out, returned and sat down, or took up a book, read a page and threw it by, or borrowed a gun to go shooting, and left my ammunition, and once, the lock and gunstick behind me : and thus I would spend hours. ISleep forsook me, my appetite failed me ; I found pleasure Ino longer in the books and studies I had so prized before, Inor in the rural sports and exercises which were once my Idelight. At length I came to the resolution to see her, and laskner what was the cause of her estranged behaviour. I " I will go," said I, " and ask her if she has, indeed, I taught herself to think, me unworthy of longer cbunte- 1 nance, but I will speak in a mild, sweet voice. I should die to see her shed tears. If she says * yes,' I will see her no more. I will go on board one of the king's ships, or 'list in the army, and maybe get a chance to die by the side of a lord's son ; and then she will think better of me." I spent an hour of one of the finest August evenings that I ever saw in making myself thoroughly miserable. There was a particular spot where I could call up a set of gloomier associations than elsewhere, and to which, when I wanted to be very wretched, I always went. It was a broad flat rock upon the top of a high cliff, which looked down upon the illimitable expanse of ocean. On this night I went thither determined to conjure up maddening reflections, and I succeeded even beyond my expectations. CHAPTER VI. The mansion of Judge Danvers stood about a mile and a half from the ocean, and about the same distance from my father's cabin. It was fenced from the sea on the south and south-west by a chain of low hills, once clothed with stately oaks, a few lifeless trunks of which still re- mained, taxing the philosopher to account for their sudden decay upon the spot where our fathers found them flour- ^ HAVEnniLL. ishing in all their native vigour and maiestv V... ♦ • I ^es, many species of which are not now ^CT °' arable level, whiKwnTiTpn?!'''^ *"'' «nd cminuou. of the coast, rnTwherTt'he arch Z'^l™' "i ^^-y point species of trees oinno? now te made to^:!::'' """'^'^t'' covered with densi. «Jil. ■ . / '° Sfow, were then ab„ve.a™:^tTfore^a;r iX^rSr/hN'"'-'- grounds, upon the southern shorerf j£w Fnil a .u" Pre,uent y dig up the stumps of red cedarld &''; *^ determine on death rather tho« „ ♦ ^^"^?*^ ^t the soil to their home by stran^^^^^^^^ occupation of thetic protester thfvenerlLel^rJnfr'^" *^" P^- the scenes which thr^e and 1^^^^ enacting around them w/Jlt i gnibbm^-hoe were assent Iven by ttwho'^^^^^^^^^^ them to the meditatprl auini^^ - " "&,^"^ "«« Jite before love of life, nm^Uo~;^fT^-y'f. <=«" '■""^X 'he over their resolution tI;?!- ^' I- * '""^ prevailing .0 the earth wX"c;n™K effort "tolZ''" '""l-' f '?'" « bandman is laid at therrnnf. „r J' 1 ■ T °^^^ •"■»• high wind, pristrateXm A ± ''• " ""= *«P« "f « trSiuce a thousand pTctuZueHttfrid! ?"?' ^""^ "" to the last sad meelinn. r.f Z , j incidents to give effect resolving on seff-deSction ' ""^'' P^P'"""^ '» *^ ho„^s^:^T!::;Li™n'rv'°"f**r'?y '•»•"■«' «■« getheronlheliS'SSSSreltt HAVERHILL. [Gardening had not been much studied in America at th^ period of my story ; the middle of the eighteenth century I— a bed of tulips or a bush of roses was absolutely a I curiosity. Judge Dan vers had managed to collect together a greater variety of choice plants than was elsewhere to I be found in the colonies. The botanical garden attached to the college at Harvard, Massachusetts, could not boast of I half its variety. And then its beauty. A pretty little diamond of a rivulet, fringed with wild grape- vines, alders, dwarf willows, and other adornments of a natural watercourse, meandered through it for the full space of a rood. Ap- proachmg the north-west angle of the garden, this beau- tiful little serpentine fell abruptly over a small precipice, forming a miniature cascade of singular beauty. After fretting and blustering for a few rods further, like a love- sick girl, never very seriously in anger at a swain, but half suspected of inconstancy, its pellucid little waves were gathered again to a single channel, and suffered to find an outlet at the foot of the old larch. Everv thina which wealth, aided by tas», and the counsels 'of experience could do, had been done for this beautiful spot ;— it almost realized the splendid dream which Lord Bacon has made of a princely garden. Its jets d'eau, statues, box trimmed intoathousajid fantastic shapes, its nicely gravelted walks, and trelliced arbours, were a source of infinite wonder to the poor simple colonists. These and other things which a true lover of nature would regard with far less pleasure than the successful introduction of a rare exotic, often drew curious crowds to the walls, or to gaae, in awful admira- tion, through the trelliswork. And when by chance the gates were flung open, exhibiting to advantage fringed avenues, a newly-cropped lawn, and verdant shrubbery the shoals of gaping boys, who gathered to the cheap ex- hibition, would have astonished one not before acquainted j with the intense curiosity which burns in the bosom of most I Americans. I u ^^u^^ P.^^'^^ ^f ^^ '^'^^^^y *^« ^^'^'^ of North America I had been but little studied— the vast treasures she pos- I sesses of botanical wealth had not then been revealed to the admirers of the most delightful of all the natural Vol. 1. — 4 1 i m m 38 HAVEHHILL. lU ii Hi JeTl2Lr\e ' '*!!^' ^'"^ n»«naged to' collect a' great number of rare indigenous p ants. It wonlH h« going too far to impute the iLrality he ev need in f^min^ :?r r^±^^^;"i>r 4 ^^^ t.anij:=rS^c!!;: of the pursuit Then^toi^ive U y^:^ ;j ^ ^'^'C As I?e nnl r^^"' '^.' ?r''^""« «^ "^ ^^^ ^^ tulips.^ hinrof ?h^' ' '?'^^''^ P*"^'^"^ ^^c^^'on to say some- tning ot the man who bore it. ^ ffui^ed^'nohr/? in England. Distantly related toa distin- guished noble family, and second cousin to a veteran tar rportbn oTtrH 'v'h''"""^ ^'" ^^^" '^^ war/conrcted a portion of the British marine to victory and glorv he wn^ through their interest, at an early age aDDoinled ^n IT^' portant judicial office in the co Jn;^of Eachletts "^^^^ He had married an English lady, repoiTsaTd an tosS & thid'' '"'T^'' '''' "^'- I^erdittaCne'e d" inirty thousand pounds or more. Of riches she h»A in order, her mind was a vacuum of all, save oride anH ill temper I must not be understood to ins nuate aught against' huSrblu^shV'^r'^?/^'^^ "«"^^"'«"'i «ft^n - chiSbpt '^«'' ^-J'y «7'"g«' *^^>f-idiot speeches, and character t"?h 7^' 'i"^'"^. ^^« ^^ ^""^ ^ ^'^'^rent Character from that of his wife. Haughty by nature and very overbearing, he was rendered ftiU moVso by officia power, which enabled him to indul<.e his tyrannic^ inrsru"rt""'R'''^"''^^'P"r^'"^^-^^^^^^ m his court. He was, nevertheless, a man of Dowerfni mind, deeply read in the history of his counV,! ran of England, and perhaps the most profound juris? of his day Though slovenly in his dress both in and oitof cour ofS tSllT^ "" '^f ^"""^ ^" ^ *^^^t '^^^^ with diit and worn threadbare, and a cravat and waistcoat begrimed wkh 3 he yet afiected great parade in his private livingrand gra *' ! HAVERHILL. 39 il propriefor of| [ed to collect a s. It would be winced in forming 'nee. 1 am per* nd vanity, which ? passion of the to a natural love of as the « Eng- i it is pleasant an of her report •ed of tulips. )pear frequently on to say some- lated to a distin- 3 n veteran tar war, conducted d glory, he was, )inted to an im- sachusetts Bay, lid, an hostler's :ta Roanesteed" les, she had, in- »s of the lowest e pride and ill- te aught against often made her t speeches, and uite a ditferent ity by nature ill more so by i ! his tyrannical • [nity and order 1 of powerful try, I mean of 'ist of his day. af court, often dirt and worn lied with snuff, fing, and gra- duated his expenses upon a scale of extreme magnificence, that is, colonial magnificence. His equipage far surpassed any thing of the kind in the colonies, his domestics wore red collars upon green coats, and enormous cocked hats with gold lace an inch broad — altogether, his establishment was such as to create envy and uncharitable surmises. To use the New-England phrase " it made a great deal of talk," while it did not answer even the ordinary purposes of expense and show. He was not beloved ; for what very protid man ever was? yet he was exceedingly liberal in liis charities and donations ; for his knowledge of men had early taught him that the liberality of the great never fails to return them a handsome premium for the outlay. Neither violent in his friendships nor intemperate in his aversions, it could not be said of him, as it was of a dcce,ascd statesman whom he wished to resemble, " that the first drove him on Scylla, and the second on Charybdis." He was the friend of no man far- ther than his own interests required, the enemy of no man after the slightest cause had been shown why his interests would be injured if he continued so. Remind him that he would "lose money by it" if he continued to entertain a pique against a particular person, and the next day wit- nessed an overture for a reconciliation. It is a happy thing to have our passions at all times schooled into diplomatic caution, yet not essentially praiseworthy if it result from a total absence o! all feeling for our fellow-creatures, j^ is» no doubt, proper and just that our benevolence shoulofBtot be of too active a kind, nor our sympathy witfe thesis- tresses and sufferings of men lead us into downright Qtiix- otism. But God deliver me from the "hard 6f heart" — from those who only look at their fellows with a view to use them in schemes of thrift and profit. I place many degrees below the unreflecting debauchee the griping and grinding usurer, and lower still in the scale of being the breast devoid of social love and pity. Ti>-^, ^,. I 40 nAVERlllLL. i: \ CHAPTER VII. God s worH beauWul, .ublimS, wonderfof ISficent at Sm fJt ■""" '1™'''= "'"■'''^" '=<"'sed to pmduce ^piendid';st.,^'ir:rdte^^ 'H A^ HAVERHILL. 41 ling, in the latter I found myself mention has ao t was just sunset ' sultry heats of Jeded by one of ning so common w-England, and vater called the 3nt strife of the ids sinking away yet glimmered ierfully sublime shed its bright- just enough of in the world of en I am grown t)ut a thousand, ease the impri- upon the rain- on any other of magnificent as ?d to leave the i away, till its he cloud. In 3 extreme. I father's cabin, Jarance of one h a fiery blush ced a shower, it in the cloud, ' destroyed by 1 to produce henomenon I i^itnessing the ) bounds. I recollect that the only expedient to pacify me was to pro- mise " I should have it again to-morrow." I hud not seen Mary for three weeks. When I last saw her, her manner was so hurried and agitated that I collected resoluti(Mi enough to whisper of the " fogs, and the great colds which Drusa Benbow caught by being exposed to them." 1 had now much, very much to say to her, matters of primary importance to speak of, communica- tions to make on various subjects, questions to put as to the government and agreentent of certain French verbs and nouns, and whether •* ceinture" in the proverb •* Bonne re- nomme vaut mieuxque ceinture doree** should be translated sash or girdle ! I wanted to sing to her the Scottish air I had just learned, and I — wanted to look at her eyes. I was also to hold a dialogue with her upon the aforesaid matters and things, which was to determine in some measure the course of my future life, and whether it was now, or three years hence, that I was to become a soldier or a sailor. I arrived at the rendezvous just as the sun was setting. Filled with an indescribable feeling, I could not tell whe- ther it was joy or sorrow, hope or fear, pain or perplexity ; fluttering with an emotion which was neither happiness nor unhappiness, but entirely unlike that which is produced by the common distractions of human life, I sat down to await her coming, and employed myself in tracing out the proportions of a mighty temple in the western clouds, which were now lit up by the glorious splendour of the setting sun, and giving the same rich promise of the " goodly day to-morrow" that so buoyed up the soul of Harry of Richmond. I had erected, very much to my satisfaction, such a Colosseum as I had seen in the picture-books, save that one of the columns wanted the " thing a-top the post," or cornice, and had pulled it down to try my hand upon a pantheon, when I heard her voice, calling to me, from a low part of the wall, " Lynn 1" " Is it you, Mary ?" said L She did not answer, but held up her little white hand to me above the wall, beckoning me to her. '* Why will you not come out, Mary ?" I asked. "Because mamma says I must not. I did n6t know 4* ^ n ^ 43 HAVWIHILL. that I was doing wrong when I saw you so oftpn »J and Without the knovvledge of nTv parent T^ 5 "®' k^w that I deserved to be^scolded LTCll^'^:;^ " Do you think the censure would havp h*.or, a^ j Wever, but I cannot fee you any more, Lvnn •> .ce LTnyCer ""^ ""<=' *'"'^' ^"r-nnot you told you tha{ as the "f„ „f iron HirrhT™"!!- ®''" answered she, blushing deeply "f am butT"'^'"^" J told her so, but she said there raicht be othpr .!,;„ learned at those meetings than how to f eld boot, b,7| .%. I am sui taught then s ! And si met 1 larch-t tened tell pc would of the ness). and th humbl ruined Bostor »I( it onc€ time, t his pre "V men ii house, an asy father, for yej armies led ba( and pe not pr< bright ruled I Mary, depth < is a gi a glori "Bi growir curbin: DAVBRHILL. 43 am sure I don't know what she meant. I told her I had taught you to read, and you had taught me to sing, and then she shook her head, and said 'worse and worse/ And she said papa would be very angry if he knew that I met Lynn Haverhill alone, in the evening, under the old larch-tree, and sat with him, and sang with him, and lis- tened for hours to his flagelet. She said she would not tell papa that I had done so, if I would promise that I would do so no more." " There spoke the shrewd and cunning mother, fearful of the fisherman's son, Mary (I said this with some bitter- ness). But there is a spirit of change in all created things, and this is the land in which that spirit oftenest elevates the humble and depresses the proud. Did you ever see the ruined house on Leader's Hill, on the great road to Boston." " I did, and papa told me there were great folks lived in it once. He said he would tell me the story some other time, but I have forgotten to ask him for a 'fulfilment of his promise." " I will tell it to you. The son of one of the proudest men in Great Britain died in disgrace and penury in that house. His helpless widow and her orphan child found an asylum in the cabin of a man as poor and lowly as my father, and, by the sweat of his brow, she was supported for years. The son of their ignoble benefactor entered the armies of his sovereign, won glory and an earldom, and led back Lady Jane Eldingham into the circle of peers and peeresses, an envied object. Who knows that I may not prop the fortunes of a falling house yet ? I have had bright dreams, Mary ?" "But dreams are fearful things, Lynn; oh don't be ruled by them," said she, anxiously. "Call them visions, then. I have had bright visions, Mary, which have made me spring from my bed in the depth of night, and half fancy I had become a hero. 'There is a great war raging in the old countries, you know, and a glorious field opened for ambitious youth to shine in." " But you will not embark in it, surely ?" asked she, growing pale, as I fondly thought, with apprehension, and curbing her tears with difficulty. ita m »:■ ^ 44 BAVEHHILI,, 'I'v. i K i « As sure as I am living I will." " Oh, Lynn, but vou will not cross the wide oppan tr^ take up the sword /or strangers." ^^" *^ " Sjx months—as much sooner as may be— shall not elapse before I will be whe,^ the sharpe^st swords are PrnT- •' ^,!? ^^*^^"?»"«d to go, and become the King of Prussms sold.er, and to follow him in all his ^orlus *Kr ^"^ *''''* ?^ the weaker cause ; he is begirt with a iJ«"«^»d enemies. Oh, why,if you must beal^ldier wiU you jom the weaker cause ?" a^micr, wni ^lorv i!J^^i^' "^^^^ ?*^'^' ^^' *^^ '^«°" *»»at there is more gory to be won by espousing the cause beset with the most and greatest difficulties.^ He is no true hero Jack ot a hne-of-battle ship upon a ten-gun brig." But you will be killed," said she, restraining with diffi- culty the tears that were pleading, with all the beaut fi^l You have told me things since you came here Marv which steel my heart against the fear of death. Tdf'dt^ at this moment, hold my life of a pin's value. A man - you smile even m tears, call me boy then,-whoters h"^ self ne^ected, contemned, spurred, despised,-^those a?e the words which best show the worid^s treatment of the fisherman^s son, Mary,-and knows it is all bS e of his poverty and humble parentage, will dare any danger to raise himself to the rank of the scoffer. Ay, what would am'tTrVouaT'' Wh'^;'^^ '' -y toyour^l^d fTher ^I am 5 our equal. Why do you weep, Marv »» "a ^rf „ ^L y°" '"^ ^° Sood and kind." And are j»« not changed, Mary? Alas I I think «, to me ,t seems there hasW a greater change in vi^^ "Oh^f T"'' ■""'''? °" *« '■'»« of " ^mme^^sea."'^ *Uh no ; I am not changed." " But I am. I know it.'^ thl?f^^^^ T ^''^.•. ^"'* "«^ y«» looked so angry and there was such a withering frown on your brow thS' vm» wit U Lthffirsf 1 ^ '^^ ' ^^" -^ '^ cau"^ht2ct! wiieo It IS the first I ever saw you wear. And when yoj "I BAVERHILL. 45 e wide ocean to spoke of death and danger, and all you would do to obtain renown, I thought of the brave knights and paladins we were reading about in Froissart's Chronicles, as we sat together in papa's library, the winter before the last. It was their wont, you remember, to put themselves in the hottest of every battle, that they might gain a name, and win the love of ladies and the praises of minstrels. Often- times they were killed from trying to do impossible feats. But I cannot stay any longer — indeed, I fear I shall be missed now. I must not come here to meet you any more ; but we shall see each other for all that. You always go to church, and now I will go every Sunday instead of once or twice a month, as I used to do, and we shall see eacli other, though we may not speak." " You are forbidden to speak to me then. Farewell, Mary, and for ever ; you shall never see poor despised Lynn Haverhill any more. Farewell, and may God bless you." " But you will not, cannot go, Lynn, and in anger. I have given you no cause to be angry," said she, giving way to a deep and hysterical passion of tears. " I cannot disobey my parents, and bring down their curse upon my head. It is not of my own inclination that I am not to meet you any more. Oh, no, Lynn, oh, no !" and she wept bitterly. " I did not think you would have been angry with — little Mary — her for whom you did so many kind things, when she was little and timid, and could not do them for herself." "I am not angry with you, heaven knows I am not angry with you," said I, striving to calm her. " But I was miserable, and I spoke in the bitterness of my heart. You know not — may you never know — the suffering which the proud-spirited endure, when they feel themselves the object of scorn and contempt." " And you can forget Mary, and all the brotherly |ind sisterly love which has passed between us ?" " That can never be. But hear me patiently for a few — very few minutes, Mary. I am twenty." "Not quite, Lynn. You will not be twenty till the seventeenth day of October next, I took down your age from your father's Bible, when I came down wTith mamma M 46 HATBRHILL. B ! * to look at the stranded bark. I know I am right. I have smile Crv-'f*"^ ' ^""^ "^"^ y°" smile,-yours is a sweet rvon^^i ' i " 1^" '^"^ ?"r ^"^ ^^^« «<> «weet a smile as yours. 1 should scarcely be so bold as to ooen mv .hnf '"^ ^uV'^'^' ^" ^'"^ b-^th so young, if did nS'knTw '' You Will go then, and I shall never see you more t?ieJfe"-!!:tr.o «"' \ ''"' ^^^^ y^" should ^shT-!: Mary r ^ ^^ ^'°'" ^'^^^ ^^'"^'^ ^^^ from-little Marltlnv^T''^ VT""^ T'' ^"* ^^^ ^ no^^'e purpose. tlL Cradle nn-.^''''^'J^^"^ >'^" ^^^'' since vou left h„t^S- y""''®^ y°" ^^^" yo" was a little girl, chasina thpif ff '' ^"^ '''^•"^u*° P'^y ^'th the stars.^ 1 thouTh? wrshedTd'irj Th '^'-^ '' P^^"y '' ^he little g ri X Xn a tth^n^^l^h"''' °"^ ^f ^'^^ bank of snow, and wnen, at the age of three years, you held up your little fi^t bosom uThT"^^fu "f ^^"''"S "h-t possessed my riX M«.l 1 !! "'"" u*""- ' ■<=™ <=»" this feeling hy"^ »dinreinsr ts^!r£?i^^^^^^ ffratifiiHp fo,. !; ^1 • "^""g^t it for a long time mere I JVi * — ■ t i g O l - Bgr ""v^feSK^i HAVSRniLL. 47 part of our dialogue, and taking her trembling but passive hand in mine, I said — "Mary, can you find it in your heart to promise me one thing?" " And what is that, Lynn ?" « I am about to leave my home— about to tear myself from all I love, m gearch of riches and glory. If I win them — if I become known and respected, will you share them with me? Will you, sweet Mary! beloved girl! marry me, when I have wiped awav the stain of being poor, and made men forget — good dod ! my father and mother V* " If I say yes," answered the sweet creature, leaning gently upon the arm which encircled her, " you will so ex- pose yourself to win the baubles you are mistaken in sup- posing I covet, that I shall never see you again, unless it be a ghastly corpse. But I will put my trust in heaven. When that time comes I will many you. Go, Lynn Haverhill ; make yourself agreeable to my parents ; let them see you a brave, honourable, and honoured man, admired for your good conduct, and respected for your probity ; and then come back and claim the hand of her who, if her parents would give their consent, would marry you were you never to know another than your humble lot. I must go. If it must be so, farewell !" " Farewell ! sweet Mary ; and yet not so soon, since it is for the last time. Will you not forget your promise, tempted as you will be by offers of rich and noble alliances —backed by the entreaties, perhaps enforced by the threats of your parents?" " I did not think you would question my faith, Lynn, or doubt my promise, when once given," said she, half re- proachfully. " It is not your faith I doubt, dearest Mary, but your firmness to resist what will be the wishes of your parents. I shall go far from you— perhaps for years you will not know wheth^ I am in the land of the dead or the living. Ypu will grow up still more beautiful, and you will be rich. But I will entertain neither doubts nor fears ; I will rely on your word. One kiss, Mary, only one." I enfolded the lovely girl in my arms, imprinted on her rosy lips the first kiss, and bade her adieu. ,T|I If 'i 48 havbshill. CHAPTER VIII. »U K k ^^^^y ^T.® ' revolved in my mind the many nlana H the truth must be spoken, the gaining of Mary Danver. onl nl'" T°Tf "^^^ ^"^'^ f«r meditation^the fixing coollftitiff'-'f ^"^^'"^ °"^'«««^^- To form! whpn ?i? ^T^^^^^ judgment, we must choose a moment when tho elements are still-earth, air, and skies^^est SvVanauf^r' ^^^' ^\' j"^'^'-^ --'-" -""be wise ? T hnv3 [r ?'^?" '\^^ '^ when nature is other- wise { 1 have often tried to think in bad, dirty disaxrrPP able weather, but never was able to do 1;^^ Sc" tion. A 1 my worthiest resolves were conceiveS a nlen«" ant condmon of the atmosphere ; and Trupon ^fich f most pride myself, in a beautiful June mon^^rwTth the wind west-north-west, and only just enouSi o? k to set the meadows and cornfields a dancing. ^ T I had not gone far before I made up my mind to ira home, and acquaint my dear parents with my ^iTh to lea?e ^?n\ ^!k "''^''' ^^"" '"^^"^••^ted such a thing to them^ but I knew they were not wholly unprepared fofit havi^/ thIr,htT ^^f«f' overheard n^. mother say trml fS' voyage' ''^''*'^ '"^'^ ^^^ ^ ^^"'^ ^^ ^org^^g^ ^L^ * h ^Pftf^^nt in which the family usually as bed Le In^t!"'^"''' "' .''"'^<' ^° ^-o"' ""dTn eX / HAVKRHILL. 49 these fires at least a fbrtnight earlier. At these several periods in the respective climates, tfce weather has become so cold that the summer garb is not sufficient — the body, at certain hours, needs further protection — an additional garment after nightfall, to fence it against the keen air of the valleys and lowlands. There are very few houses found in that region which are not warmed by wood fires, in the principal apartments, as early as the first of October ; and before the close of the month they are generally throughout the day. Habit, however, has quite as much to do with the custom as the atmosphere. The abundance of wood growing on the land, and the necessity there is for ridding the ground of the incumbrance previous to the putting in of crops, have led to the effeminate and enervating practice of keeping up large fires nine months in the year. This is probably the reason why the Americans are, generally, less hardy than other inhabitants of high north- ern latitudes. I have frequently seen them flinch from a blast which had no effect upon the nerves even of a with- ered and sallow Spaniard, though he came from the sultry climate of Yucatan. My family had finished their homely meal, on the even- ing of my interview with Mary, before I came in. The hours at which a New-England family, of the middling class, take their meals, are singularly primeval and patri- archal. Breakfast, in summer, is taken at six, and in winter at eight o'clock ; dinner, the year round, at twelve ; and tea, generally denominated by them " supper," and the last meal of the day, at five or six, unless it be put off a little for the master to finish some "job." Nor are the hours ma- terially later with those who consider themselves magnates. I have known of their dining at one, and once or twice as late as two o'clock, but it was a very unusual and unpopular arrangement, and drew down a deal of censure and asper- sion upon the heads of those who had dared to make it. But though my mother, to use the American phrase, had " cleared away," or removed the tea things, she had not been unmindful of the absent. My share ot the repast, a pint pitcher full of that common drink of the New-England poor, " ginger tea," a piece of " johnny," or hoe-cake, the half of a roasted mackerel, and a small slice of gingerbrear boy eat hif "uoDcr n IteTjetdld'Tef n'""" '°™ ""^ '^"^"- «nd avocations o? those IZ' r7 f^^^'of ">« habit. hewe™of„ood:l^''drjt7.^a t o'JhS^^^^^ tion general and common to all the poorer classes of S" you will .ee them emploTed in'tetn^S:; eve':,!,'"; Ine Americans are not a s^nrial r^^^^i^ 7 .i ^^^^".''^gs. '/ HAVERHILL. SI round table, not i set in the chim. , coming. ■ed, " now, where I hours and more ter you had been n that Jone rock eve if there is no pon it," said the It a cunning old le rocks run hke 2s a dead pig to ler. « And you K eat his supper 3'Jl take it better « •epared to break my leaving the ^e and kindnesw ait of the habita ippointed to be ir more favour- a simple sketch vening. In so ness my father 'ith that excep. lasses of New- ensive marine ior. It is thus nter evenings, et they visit a ortionofthem :ake their hats stroll out to a the crops and fallen, sinners n they return :d by a couple vo youngest," I 5 has made her call goon after dinner, so that a constant in- tercourse is kept up, and visits paid and reciprocated. These are the occasions when scandal circulates most freely, and Rumour is most busy with her hundred tongues ; these are the times when most mischief is done, and most reputations " scalped." No people, perhaps, have a stronger propensity to decry their neighbours than the inhabitants of a New-England village. Yet I may well de- mand when are people living in the country otherwise ? Before I speak of the employments of my family on that evening, let me describe the building in which 1 wag born. This miserably poor and crazy cabin was, in height, but a single story of seven feet. Originally it consisted of two apartments on the ground floor, a front room and a kitchen. To this building various additions had been made from time to time, as the occurrence of some fortunate cir- cumstance supplied my father with the means to make them. About the time of my brother James's birth a French brig ran on the rocks below his cabin, and his share of the booty (my readers are probably aware that it is accounted no sin to plunder a wrecked vessel — a " god- send") enabled him to add a porch. Soon after, a dead whale, with a harpoon, marked "Hezekiah Coffin, Nan- tucket," sticking in it, came on shore, and my father was the lucky finder ; tne blubber enabled him to add a large dor- mitory, in the form of a projection, called, in America, a " salt-box ;" the architectural designation is, I believe, a " lean-to." This latter apartment, rough as unplaned deal could well be, unplastered, and lighted only by two windows of twenty-four by sixteen inches, was occupied by my sisters as their sleeping-room. The garret, or attic, was appropriated to various and discordant uses. It served as a store-room for the implements of our business — the seines, nets, hooks, &c. as well as the usual lumber of our family, and it was also the bedchamber of myself and my brothers. Our winter's provision of dried fish was piled up in one corner, and in another stood the barrel of pork, which occasionally furnished a garnish to our dinner of bass, or perch, or other " pan-fish," as they called those kinds which are deemed most palatable when cooked by frying them. My father and mother slept in the " room,* - Lft'-'iii li iiimm: ¥ iS: If li 52 nAVCRiiiLL. handle/but uT ™b;^^y tlersTketn'lh^''''"": , "»*« " tion of time and " buttered fingers ''tmnthpT ""P"'^; the trade, those left were butSvv nl' ^^*^, '^?g"«gf of the opinion of mv mother nrd hi P''^^^^"^ ^^o^-ned, in i sl^dve^s Ther"^rat[h:r^^^^^^^^ ' room, formed by fasteninL' the ends of. Ti , . *u^ ij 1. — I a New-England called, and a low be hi(lins were driven, ils of rope, guns, ets of the male ther articles too d over the fire- ly displayed my . The remnant 1 had been pre- led vessel some and toddy jug, father, Captain occasioned the 'amping,"ofthe ellis-work fruit- Ithout nose or • necklaces and at least twenty i by the opera- he language of IS," adorned, in those precious middle of the board to the Hiis shelf was ions other im- conomy. flight descrip- eader, for the young, when nAVERHILL. M the fireplace took up nearly one side of an apartment. Iiiiinonso fireplaces were, at fills period, universally in iiw in the kitchen or cooking apartment, and chiefly in tho parlours. Capacious to a dogree which niadc them siii;,Mil.irly ronvenient in very cold weather, whon a whole family could assemble within one, they were upheld by all classes, till the alarmed woods, which they were so rapidly converting into ashes, sent in a petition for tlnir suppres- sion. It was economy, not convenienne or pn-ihrnnre^ which substituted for the old-fashioned chiifmey-i >rner Hue singularly incommodious fireplace now in use, whi«h may pretend to more beauty, no doubt, but lacks entirely tlie cliitposil ion to promote social chat, and produce the beer and ale which belonged to the ancient fireplaces. CHAPTER IX. In one of these same old-fashioned chimney-corners sat my mother, deeply intent on mending some article of ruined apparel ; if I remember right, it was her linsey- woolsey or " fall gown." In the opposite corner sat my father and eldest brother, employed in repairing the rents in a fishing-seine. My little brother Michael was, as usual, ardently engaged in miniature ship-building, "rigging a schooner, to go first to the Labrador, for fish, and then to the West Indies, for oranges." My two other brotjbers were engaged in the construction of a weir, to be used in the taking of eels. Only one of my sisters was at home, the rest were at service, and she was sewing — for pride and vanity being, after all, but relative terms, will find their way into the most obscure dwelling — upon some article of finery intended to catch the eyes of the rustic beaux, with whom she was a great favourite, upon the ensuing sabbath. Bill Kyamas, an Indian, a little older than my- self, brought up in our house till the age of fourteen, and just returned from a visit to his tribe, sat relating witch and goblin stories with all the proverbial creduUty of hii race; 5* u f 54 HAVERHILL. W" rnhl^iT^'i^^^ 1^^* ' ''^^"'^ ^«"^^y «" idea of the diffi. culties I found, and the odd ways I tried to make known to nny parents the resolution I had formed to leave them. I tried, several times, to find words for the revealment of mv purpose, but, as the bashful lover said, when relating the story of his attempt to declare his love to its object, - some- th ng kept rising in my throat continually, and I couldn't." I thought, at first, I could tell my storv much better, and find words niore tender and appropriate, if I were seated at the side of my mother, and I removed the settle thither. IJut, unfortunately she put her arm round my neck, and teed my forehead, "to pay," she said, "for having scolded me, a circumstance which shed such an unmanly softness over my heart, that I am sure, if it had been to save my We, I could not have made the disclosure, without first mdu gmg m a passion of tears. Finding that every mo- ment was still further unfitting me for my purpose, I got up and went out, to gaze upon that which has more power to soothe an afflicted spirit than any other of the works of Sod, sublime and beautiful as they all are, the serene and tranquil sky, with all its starlit and azure glories. After a few mmutes devoted to rapturous observation of the wondrous celestial phenomena and apparatus of light, and to a duty it were somewhat pharasaical to name, I re- turned strengthened, as I thought, and with sufficient reso- lution to break the ice of my secret. Taking a seat by my father, I b^ged him to let me assist him. He answered me with a good-natured slap on the shoulder, « that he did not need my servi^ces " and that - 1 might venture, for once in my life, to sit still for five minutes." At length, thinking i there was no better way, in such a case, than plunging into the "midst of things"_I don't like lekmed p5e| or I would give it m the Latin of its author, Horace, I mustered sudden courage and said « I wish to do what I can for you before I leave you." Never, perhaps, was a pte«e'of news more awkwardly communicated. It had the effect, however, to awaken the instantaneous attention of the group, to excite laughter in aonae, and surprise m all. ^ HAVERHILL. 55 1 " What does the boy mean ?" asked my father and mo- ther in the same breath. My brothers laid down their work and looked earnestly and inquiringly into my face, and my sister drew the calimanco petticoat, upon which she was sewing, to her eyes, and burst into tears. "What do you mean, my son?" again inquired my father. " Mean — I mean my dear kind parents, — with your con- sent, I have not the heart to do it without, — to try my for- tune in some other pursuit than that in which it has been your kind pleasure to bring me up." " Then it is your wish to leave us : to leave your poor old father and mother, just as old age is creeping upon them ?" said my mother, half reproachfully. " Who put this notion into your head, my son V said my father, surveying me affectionately. "Come, tell me who put this figary into your silly noddle ?" " You need not ask him," said my mother ; " I am cer- tain it was young Doctor Gamaliel. The last time I saw him, — it was but yesterday two weeks, at Captain Spun- yarn's, — he said 'it was a pity that a lad of Lynn's talents and learning should waste his time dodging along shore in a fish-boat.* • Let him,' said he, ♦ be off in one of the king's cruisers, though it be but as a powder-monkey, and I'll be sworn he commands her before he is five-and- twenty. Oh, he is a brave lad, and then — such a heart T The young — young fop — I won't call him names, I'll only say he is a very bad man. But I'll give him a piece of my mind, I'll read him a new leaf out of an old book, I will, the very first time I see him." " I am sure it was some of Tom Phipps's men-of-war yarns which is about to set Lynn upon a wild-goose chase," said Timothy. " More like, it was that meddlesome old wretch, Jack Reeve," said James, warmly; " I'll tell you how it is, father, ay, and mother too, for you are Jack's chief supporter, the very next time I see him, I'll tell him that I believe what he said about the Irish people making soft soap out of fog and drinking gin from a ram's-hom are both great lies. I long to quarrel with him." " It was not the doctor, nor Tom Phipps, nor Jack Reeve, ) !l { , *tt«lC "^'^Hf^ ! 56 HA.VERHILL. who has been talking to Lynn, and advising him to eo away; but I can guess who it was," said Jenny, reproach- luiJy. And she gave me a look which plainly indicated that she was mistress of my secret, so far as to suppose that Mary JJanvers was m some way or other the cause of mv resolution to leave my home. "I know what the reason is," said Michael, putting on ft very wise look. « Mother, last night you gave me a much larger slice of gingerbread than you gave him, and he was mad as a March hare. I saw it at the time. And this morning, nothing would do but you must give me grand- father s silver spoon, when you know, he bling the bigger and older boy ought to have had it, so he had. Mother! be ashamed of you, so I be." "Your son, my parents," said I, "never yet moved b hndly at the bidding of anyone. I may say without va- TJu J *^'"'' .^T ^"T '^ ^^ ^6 tr"^' that in so far as my humble pursuit has afforded me opportunities to call nto action the energies of my own mind, and use them for the direction of others, I have rather led than followed. No one has advised me to leave you, many have said do not. The thought to leave you was my own, and never came trom the counsels or suggestions of any one." feee what became of your uncles who ventured out just as you wish to do," said my father. « Brother Nathan who went to Squam to keep school, licked a boy too hea' Jily, and to pay for it laid in jail six months in the winter season, and came out with a rheumatism, which laid him ZlZ r.r?' ^u""^' '^^? ^^"* *^ Holmes Hole, was p eked by the Jews there as clean as a whistle, and Nathan, as I have heard, led such a life with the Sag-harbour wi dow, that he finally died with mortification--L his 1^ caused either by grief or the scratch of a rusty nail-thi' doctor never knew wh ch. Seeing that they all came to naught, why do you Mish to leave us." "Ay, why do you wish to ]< ave us ?" responded hit mother, and each of them tenderly took a hand ^ both^nTbTear ^''" ^'"^ *' ^""' '"^ '™ ' " ^^^^ ^'^'^ "Kind to me? Oh how kind! Never had a son more affectionate parents than mine have been to me. F?oL 1 I HAVERHILL. 67 the hour when, a little child, I could only move by the chairs to the present minute, your kindness and tender- ness have never known any abatement. May Almighty God, my beloved parents, bless and preserve you for it 1" " Then why leave us, my son ?" said my father. He paused for a reply, but finding his question remain unanswered, he resumed. " Do we want bread ? Oh no. Our food is coarse, it is true, but it is wholesome, and we have always plenty of it. The unceasing labour and hard knocks by which we earn it give us health and an appetite to enjoy it, and add a relish to our coarse Indian bannock,* ginger-tea, and roasted mackerel, which is lacking to the banquets of those who, to use the words of the Holy Scriptures, are fed with rich dainties and sit in the king's gate." " Most true» my dear and excellent father," said I. " "Was there ever a healthier family of children than mine have been ? We have had six sons, and three daugh- ters — they are all living, or were on the last Sabbath, and there has not been four hours illness in our house since the day that I brought your mother into this humble cabin a bride." " All thi"* is true, my father," said I. " If it is true, why do wish to leave us ? why do you wish to exchange a course of life which has made your old father happy, for one which, if I guess your choice, may conduct you to an early grave, and, at all events, can lead to nothing better than I have found in a lowly sphere !" " Remember Dick Ratlin," said my mother. " He left home a steady and virfuous youth as you could wish to see, and he died on the Tyburn gallows, according to all accounts, one of the most horrid reprobates that ever lived." " I am not — never shall be Dick Ratlin, my dear mo- ther," said I. " Remember," said James, " what Jack Reeve was ?" they asked H telling us last evening about Bob Short, the Lancashire man. '>% Indian bannock, a cake made of the flour of Indian corn. 58 BAVERHILL. h ' ft. i' < Oh don t name that meddlesome old wretch, Jack Reeve, said I to James, playfully. " I'll tell you how it IS, James ; the next time I see him, I'll tell him that I beheve what he told us about the Irish people making soft *♦ Pshaw, Lynn !" exclaimed James. "Ah, but Lynn, remember the story of the Country i.!!i iH?1it-^u®¥'' ^^^* y^" ^^«d to me the other night," stid httle Michael. « A country girl had a basket of elcel ^t eggs, and eggs are very good eating you know. Well, she warned to change them for gay gowns, and L^PrLf V/ K™T>\""^ ^ '-^^ a^s^fndsomeas flT ^'^f ^^""^^ *^® ®gg«' »nd never got the gowns, the money, or the lovtr. Remember that, Lynn." ^ ' What you have said is true, my father," said I. « and contentment has gone hand in hand with the poverty which has been our lot, else had our condition been miser- able indeed. You neither looked nor wished for any thing better or greater, and thence have been completely happy. But my mmd is differently constituted. I must reSl T r K ^^y '^'""'•""' °^ ^'^ «f d'«^<^"tent and hpSf* I ^' ^^^" "^y Sood or evil fortune, as it may wh?rh ?f f^"^/' *^ f".^"''^ knowledge and imbibe ideas unm me for that in which I now move. I am chaneed much changed from what I was." cnanged, JH^'l ^''^' indeed," said my father, thoughtfully. « So «Tr.n' '"^'^''^"L^' "i""^' ^ ^''^ ^' if somebody had thh\Z'^ ?r ""a r ':J^ ''"'I^''^^ ««"' «"d replaced him with a being like Alfred or the Black Prince, whom vou read about to your brothers. I know not why i'Ts, but sometimes, before I think of it, I raise my hand to pull off my hat to you, as to one greatly above me." ^ 1 feel, and have felt for some time, that—let me not pain you, my dear parents-the business I am pur "Perhaps you was, my son," said my father. "And sure J am that something has been, for many montS preying on your mind, and robbing it of peace Your mother and I have been talking about it frequently, but i If HAVERHILL. 59 >ld wretch, Jack tell you how it tell him that I ople making soft of the Country the other night," basket of excel- ting you know, jay gowns, and s handsome aa r got the gowns, , Lynn." ;," said I, " and ith the poverty tion been miser- svished for any 3en completely ituted. I must discontent and tune, as it may d imbibe ideas tation, at least [ am changed, ?htfully. « So somebody had replaced him ce, whom you t why it is, but land to pull off that — let me ess I am pur- 3rn for some- ather. "And nany months, peace. Your juently, but it seems our guesses of its cause were very wide of the truth." "His sleep has been very much disturbed for some time," said John. " No later than last night he called upon the "boarders to follow him,' cried out, 'Rule Britannia,* then said ' the enemy are every where flying, the field is ours, boys, now who shall be first in their trenches V and acted many other mad pranks." « He has not laughed for months," said Jenny ; " and he never goes to a frolic now any more than Parson Hatch, or Deacon Phipps." " He is greatly changed," said Michael, whose preco- cious drollery nothing could restrain. « He is no more my bub than I am he. He ate but seven mackerel all day yesterday — and a shark." . "Hold your tongue, Michael," said my father, I'm not in I the humour for foolery now. " When is it your pleasure to ' abandon your poor old father and mother, Lynn?" " Do not speak thus, my dear father," said I, with my heart overflowing. « But, rather tell me jf it is your plei i sure to consent that I sliall go at all." ' " It is my pleasure, sir, (with a strong emphasis on the word « sir— It was the first time he had ever used it), it is my pleasure, sir, that you take that course which, I don't doubt, you have long since determined on followine whether I will consent or not. A wayward and disobe- dient boy you— Pshaw, Lynn, don't cry. Why, I thought you was more of a man than to cry because your churlish and good-for-nothing old father" " My good and excellent father"-- " ^gf ts a little peevish with his ambitious son. And yet well might " wound, and well might the taunt have been spared when the language of reproof has so seldom been heard or deserved within these doors, and least of all by you. My child, I beg your forgiveness; your poor old father begs your forgiveness for a reproach that never did son deserve less. Come here, and kiss mv cheek, Lynn. Why, I asked but for one, and you have given me a dozen. Now we are friends again, are we not f And in the delirium of his soul-felt joy at our re- conciliation, he threw both his arms around my neck, and 60 nATERHILL. ;.( ,1 t > J i] D pressed me to his bosom as a mother presses her infant. Laugh not, my gay readers, at my homely picture of the outpourings of the heart in the cabin of a poor fisherman, nor make sport of me when I tell you that we wept in each other's arms for seve/al minutes, nor parted till my mother, having done the same thing herself, till she was half blind, declared, as well as her. sobs would permit her that we were two fools" — " Who is the third, mother ?" demanded Mike. • " — And shouldn't do so any longer." « When do you wish to go, my poor boy ?" asked my Ather, as soon as his grief permitted him to speak. « It is my wish to go as soon as next month, if you please, sir." "^ " I can but advise that you should not go at all, but if you will go, you had better put it off till spring. Winter is a very bad season for boys to go to sea in." " I do not wish to go to sea, sir ; I prefer the army." " The army !" cried my mother. " Among the terrible soldiers !" said Jenny. " The army !" ejaculated James. "The army!" cried Indian Bill, and the exclamation went the rounds of the family. Seeing I had touched a new spnng of discontent, I said, hastily, « The sea, then, if you prefer it." "And we do prefer it," said my father. « But, Lynn, perhaps you have not been told how very low seamen'i wages are at this time—they will scarcely keep you in clothes. Jack Reeve was saying that Captain Nat Tis- dale s boy Jo., a right smart lad, and a man grown, got but four dollars a month, in the Nancy Dawson, to St. Kitts. He shipped as an able seaman, and, and— here comes Limber-tongue to tell you all about it." The person who went by this nick-name was an old weather-beaten sailor, by the name of Jack Reeve, by birth an Englishman, but for the last twenty years a re- sident in our village. Jack was a plain, good-natured fellow, "rough as the element" upon which thirty years of his life had been spent, but such a liar I am sure never lived before or since. I should however remark, that his hes always regarded, past time s and by-gone scenes, adven- I ji HAVERHILL. 61 tures in which he had acted a conspicuous part, dangers he had dared, perils he had escaped. He always " knew ercry thing ;" and this expression he had taught to half the village. Say to him, " Jack, the Peggy, from Domineek, was in sight yesterday." "I know it," was his reply. " Ah, but. Jack, it proved, after all, not to be the Peggy." «« I know it," said Jack. " Did you hear of the terrible ac- cident yesterday ?" " To be sure I did— knew it in five minutes after it happened ; Sam Briggs told me," " Oh, Jack, how can that be, when it was Sam Briggs himself that was killed outright." " I know it," was the answer. Yet spite of the foible of lying — you could not call it a vice as Jack managed it — he was one of the best creatures living, and I am sure, as far as he was known, more gene- rally beloved than any other. He seemed to live only for the purpose of doing good. His benevolence was per- fectly quixotic. If he earned a shilling above the sum ne- cessary to keep his " duds in trim," and his " locker stored with bread, and biscuit, and tobacco," and his square bottle full of Jamaica rum, of which, however, he drank very sparingly — " seldom, he said, more than enough to make him drunk," he was sure to devote ten-pence of it to sonie work of charity. " Where are you going to-day. Jack V* " To carry a mess of fresh cod to poor sick Betty Whim- penny." *' She's dead. Jack ; died this morning at three." " I know it ; w 5II, I'll take them to old Ben Vinson then ; but I'll have to stay, and watch lest that d — d lazy baggage, his daughter Dinah, gets them," &c. Such was the being to whom my father had applied the epithet "Limber- tongue," and who now entered to take the field against me. " And here comes Limbertongue, and he'll tell you all about it," it may be recollected were the concluding words of my father's last reported speech. "That I can," said Jack. " Bill Kyamus, you ghost of a black bear, get off that chair, and let an old sailor take it." Bill, whose acquaintance with the whites, and general favour, had made him rather impudent ; and, besides, felt that his having been an inmate of the house for ten years gave him the best claim to the only unoccupied chair, con- tinued sitting. Vol. I.— 6 ■ ''i n [ I'll ill t iVf ;(-r li-ii 62 HAVERHILL. nngnjy, mat the bo s n never speaks twice." Bwainrwr^"°"'"!'^'='*''""''">^ °l<' house-dog (Boat. S^. kT ■• hearing his name loudly pronounced bi i doubtless without any intention to give the old tar the H. and 11 ".r" ^':^''"^- TheoccnLneeoiTatg ■ stocking, and jewsharps, but I amTertarthey'mat ht SoCtehrp-Ta^r^te^^^^ Sic^ "^i:! tit,k^s%T^i^\^/i%^^^ as talks of shakin' hands wifh ofd Neptin )" ^' " " ^^ LynS!"' '*" '"''' "^ '"''"'^'•> "« '« ""t Jenny, it i, JF,t% ^'°7 "'" ""5: V'*"^ ^'« 'oW to the old sailor re peatedly interrupted, however, by his oaths and chwac "Go to sea ! go to sea ! go to h—, will you vou d A re'kf — '-ir ^""'" ^--''^^■^"'^"^lli'^t S^Ta T"'^^^ '""^'J^"'' " '" «*ed the roguish Michael who had to answer for a great many of jfck? £ and whose questions were generally the whetstone to Jack's ?o»Th'' "■"'. """r'' "P h!^-ndatu't ^7te ton,, when~to use hie own phrase-he was going to "c^ HAVERHILL. 63 ■j lot Jenny, it ia ■I sail hard." " It is no more nor less than a dog's life. Why, Mike, when I was with Joe Knight in the Foghorse (Fou- gueux), we 'countered a gale off Scilly, which lifted the nng-bolts out of the deck as though they had been feathers —no laughing, youngsters ; if it isn't true, d— n me ; and blew the crow from the foot of the windlass against a man in the mizen-topmast cross-trees with such force, that he was knocked overboard, and not picked up till a week after. Oh, it is a villanous life." " What became of the crow V* asked Michael. " Fell perpendicularly down, and broke the scull of the master's mate, as he was at work at the heel of the bowsprit." « Oh, bless me ! hush, Jack !" said my father, « fell per- pendicularly from the mizen-topmast cross-trees to the heel of the bowsprit ! Who ever heard of such a thing ?" " If it is not true may I be —hanged," responded Jack. "What finally became of the poor man in the main-top- mast cross-trees ?" asked Michael. . " Caught a rope as he fell, and was drawn m on deck in less than a minute." « Why, just now you said he was not picked up till a week after," said the boy. "Now, Mike, shiver my timbers if I untwist the yarns of the story just to lay them up anew for your convenience. But if you will overhaul the whole story, you'll find it hang together as well as a sermon." « Come, come, Lynn," said my mother, who had spoken but twice during the foregoing conversation, having been busily employed in drying her tears ; " I'll make a bargain with you. There have been, as you must have seen, a great many signs of a hard winter at hand. The breast bones of the fowls and ducks have been very much cloud- ed,* and owls, both white and gray, have been about here all summer— come, Jack Reeve says— didn't you. Jack?" " Yes, I did," said Jack. " But if I know, mother Haver- hill, what I said then, put me down in the ship's list eleven below the cook's mate." . ^ « Come, Jack says, from a long way beyond Davis s * An American superstition. When the breast-bone is clear, it por» tends a fine winter ; when otlierwise, it means hard weather. 4^-4 :,ar" 94 HAVERHILL. '■r ocean without any thing more said about it In lUl • ion of my mother, the "evil day wafput so t or'!'.." ther. was no occasion for present gloom"an3 tah she 1Z Z^I^Z r^'r™'^ merry upon tSe occasion, and laigS Hufchintl"""'"^' "^ '"^ --"-f"' P' - ox %^tJZ I HAVERHILL. eft few other conveniences," said my mother. She stipulated, however, that I should take with me scrveral medicinal herbs of her recommending — plants wonderfully propertied; I this as a preventive and that as a cure ; this good for coldg I ill the morning and that at night : this for sprains and that for bruises ; one a promoter of expectoration to ease the lungs, another eftectual to check a cough and heal the sto- mach ; and a third could do any thing but change foul weather into fair, or tell how the wind would blow next day. And moreover, that I should be careful to see that the captain carried a pair of tooth-drawers with him. " And, Lynn," said she, " you have never yet worn night- caps, you must wear them while you are gone. Jack Reeve said that when he was in Guinea, which I believe ia dose by Sant Lucee — "* " The lying dog ! he was iiever there in his life," said the old skipper, peevishly. My mother made it a rule never to hear a word that was said against the veracity of her favourite, and went on. — " Said that when he was in Guinea, a crocodile as big as his fist crept into his ear as he lay sleeping in his berth and would have strangled him, but for the coming up of a nigger thunderstorm, which is always terribly black, he says, and which frightened the awful beast so much that he tumbled out stone dead, which saved poor Jack's iife." ^ " To have his neck stretched for lying," said the captain, indignantly. « A crocodile as big as his fist crept into his ear T Weil ! I always knowed Jack's ears were very, very long, but never till now that the opening to them was as big as his fist. And would have strangled him ! I always thought, indeed I did, that strangling was caused by choking, and not by stopping wp the ears. And, moreover, I thought that crocodiles were tremtridous creatures — as big as large oxen and covered with scales — that is what my Bible tells me, instead of being the size of large gnats. Mother Betty, 1 have heard Jack tell a thousand lies, first and last, but never one to equal this," " You shall have nightcaps to prevent the crocodiles * St. Lueta is •& pronounced in Now-England by the vulgar 6* BAVBRniLL. from creeping into your ears," continued my mother, not noticing the interruption. I promiged to wear nightcaps if she would provide them, which cave her great satisfaction, and so ended thii memoraole night. fh f' ( ! 1^^ *. CHAPTER X. My object then was attained, at least prospectively, but nnder circumstances which deprived it of tlie power to communicate much satisfaction, or to calm the nassions which tore my mind. My separation from Mary Danvers was productive of the consequences which might have been expected to ensue from the event acting upon one ardently attached, and, withal, of strong passions. We had grown up together, had, as it were, been inseparable companions for more than twelve years. Among the ear- liest of my Vecollections was that of assisting over a stile, and finally home (carrying her a part of the distance in my arms), a little black-eyed girl of three, who had wan- dered into the fields without her nurse, had torn her frock, and was crying with cold, hunger, and fear. This was the beginnmg of an acquaintance, the commencement of a friendship, the foundation of a love, which had never known a moment's interruption till the night of our " final under- standing." For the last four years we had been accustom- ed to meet almost every day, and to open our bosoms to each other in perfect confidence—to sit together; sing — from one piece of music ; read together — from one book ; and, together, to run over the list of anticipated pleasures — those which were to ensue upon the ap- pearance of the first daisy, and those which came in with the last ear of the harvest. «How many golden visions dance before our eyes in the morning of life ! How de- lightful are its anticipations, yet how seldom do they prove more than empty shadows ! To be deprived all at once of enjoyments and pleasures UATIRUILL. ing, i» the ; at other HAVERHILL. 09 times, labouring in the fields tor my father's benefit for all that would employ me. But my labour wanted activity, the laugh, the song, and the whistle of those who go to their tasks with the lark, and carol not less blithely There was a thorough abstraction of mind from all I did I waa no more the Lynn Haverhill who was the best ploughman, fisherman, reaper, mower, any more than I was the boy who could not spell «no*e, nose on your face." My father, perceiving that I no longer engaged in the customar' tasks with spirit, nor laboured with cheerfulness, spared me the greater part of them, seldom suffering any applica- Hon for that purpose to be made to me ; and in instance! where I had made engagements, sending one of my brothers to fulfil them. I felt pained by these fresh proofe ot parental care and kmdness, and exerted myself to over- come or conceal my reluctance to engage in what I con- sidered menia tasks. The thought that my exertions would avail to lighten the labours and burdensof a beloved lamer, dependent for support upon manual labour and a precarious pursuit, overcame the pride which viewed them as debasing, and the intermission in my active duties by field and flood was of short duration. ^ It was now my greatest delight, almost my only plea- surab^^ employment, to look at my mementos of JVfary and the memonals of our early love and happy hours. I possessed a lock of her hair, one of the glossy ringlets which clustered on her lovely forehead on the day I proved myself so bad a speller. It was begged without the apology and bestowed without the blush which at a later ITi^t ?v ^'^^« T"'d have doubtless accompanied both the petition and the gift. I had the first copyslip she ever gave me, learn to do well, and the last, aucunchemin clejkurs ne conduit a la gloire. Several scraps of poetry, cutout or copied by het from books expressly for me come drawings of flowers, of a "Portuguese man-of-war." ot the old larch, of a daring boy snatching a pet lamb from I a rabid dog; another rude sketch of a male urchin helping fa ittle girl m trouble over a stile ; and yet another, of a f y boy fencing in an ant-hill ; together with that gallant l|Oken of knightly devotion and pledge of his constancy I theg-/cw,m days of chivalry;— alas! for their departure !— I 1}' j ^: }i :'" # I ■iJf<&.- 70 HAVERHILL. {^i /'? , ? i the gay decoration of his helmet, were also of the number of my treasured memoiials. But the gifts most esteemed were those books in which she had pencil-marked her favourite passages, and the papers of directions for my studies, sent me when she was unable to come to the school-house in person. The black-letter MSS. in the British Museum are not half so highly valued by antiqua- ries as those scrolls of my dear Mary were by me. Indeed, I prized them so highly, and perused them so much and so often, that in a short time they were rendered totally illegible, though that circumstance abated nothing of iheir value in my eyes. The books were not so frail, and abode a never equalled scrutiny with a much better grace. I saw Mary every Sunday at church, and occasionally elsewhere, though always in company, which precluded the possibility of my speaking to her. I could gather, howevei', from her trembling lip and downcast eye, her extreme agitation and pale countenance, that no change had taken place in her feelings. I could often catch her mild eye turned towards me, but it was bashfully with- drawn the moment it caught mine, and her cheeks became suffused with blushes. I had never attempted to speak to her since the night we had pledged our faith to each other ; for I could not press her to a clandestine interview, and it would be death to our hopes to attempt to visit her in her father's house. It was still a beloved occupation of my leisure hours, and one that sometimes interfered with those set apart to procure my daily bread, to revisit the spots which reminded me of former times, and were associated with her delightful image, — the rustic bridge over which I had so often helped her, — the school-house, — the stile where I found the little girl crying, — the tree from which I procured the yellow-bird's nest, — and the ant-hill, con- nected with my lamentable yet fortunate deficiency in spelling. And how many times after the night had set in, did I thread the intricate path that led from the fishing hamlet to the patrician residence, a distance of two miles ; and how many hours did I walk around and past the house, and while watching the lights and striving to obtain glimpses of the persons moving about the splendid may, un( " crocod or guilel cences o active li tears im betoken little too happines possessoi Once to write begging 1 upon the Jack Ree he brougi I could w her pled^ stancy th] but show should for but I was I could n( fellow in It* 11 \\r HAVERHILL. 71 >f the number lost esteemed 1-marked her :tions for my come to the MSS. in the i by antiqua- were by me. jsed them so i^ere rendered ed nothing of >t so frail, and much better I occasionally ich precluded could gather, icast eye, her at no change ten catch her ashfully with- lieeks became id to speak to to each other ; erview, and it isit her in her pation of my red with those visit the spots 3re associated over which I ise, — the stile e from which ant-hill, con deficiency in yht had set in, m the fishing of two miles ; and past the rl striving to t the splendid apartments, how much did I weary myself with conjectu- ring which was her ! And when I was so fortunate as to see a shght form hovenng about the windows, perhaos from a suspicion, or rather from a hope that she was nSt unobserved, what a thrill of delight visited my bosom ^"'^""^"ii^"^''^" *^^'' ^ ^"^"y' ««d are ashamed to be seen sheddmg them even when they are prompted by the holiest affections of the heart. I have*^ never thought lightly of these " badges of a woman's weakness," bu have always looked upon them with a deep reverence, and should, even were they to flow from the eyes of the sternest warrior that ever buckled a sword upor Mg thigh It could not abate my good opinion of him a ic "Vhev may, undoubtedly, deceive : that there are such . inuo •. "crocodile tears," deceitful,_treacherous,-unmeaning,:- or guileful tears, who that, like me, can recal the reminis- cences of more than sixty years, thirty of them spent in active life, will be disposed to doubt? Yet, generallv tears indicate a mild and generous disposition ; and betoken the possession of much sensibility-perhaps a little too much-of the kind which adds to^the stock of happiness m the world, though it may diminish that of its possessor. «*«. "i us Once I wrote her a long letter—it took me three davs to write it,-filled with protestations of love and Son begging her to answer that, and permit me to write others upon the same condition of an interchange of thoughts Jack Reeve, whom I could trust, carried it^ In due tfme he brought me an answer, fond and affectionate, tender as I could wish, and beautifully written and worded renewing ^Lti^^'' rPf ''"? ^^' P''^'"^^^^ «f constancy, con? stancy through ife-the common refrain of a youni girl K tT'I' ^^^' • S««^ "^^««"« ^hy no further letters should for the present pass between us! It was very hard ut I was compelled to submit. I could not speak i he/ I could not-^write to her, I was not even allowed what the fellow m the play calls -x "good stare." I wodd have given-not money, for, alas! I had none of that lock! picking hinge-oihng, heart-softening commodity • but T ufi ^.T -^'"i?"'^ '}' P^^"?*^ ftfr amonth oVcaugh half the fish m the sea for permission to sit beside herS ■ii i I I 7S HAVERHILL. u Si > converse with her, and, unchecked and unimpeded, to gaze upon her for one half-hour. November came — to me the most pleasant month of the twelve, for then the presiding deity of the winds has ceased to equivocate, has ceased w| k To keep the word of promise to our eara And break it to our hopes. M !li... ??■ m / We know that the suffocating heats, and the unwhole- some damps, and the fevers and agues have departed, and that healthful winds, and clear cold moons, and twinkling stars, and bright parlour fires, and social parties, and apples, and oysters, and cider, and all that, have come again. I hardly know why I insist on preferring November to October when the latter is so exquisitely fine, but I do. October has, it must be admitted, the more pleasant sky, and then it is — in the country of my birth — the harvest month of the most valued grain which that country boasts, the maize— the beautiful and blessed season when the golden bounties of a beneficent God are " gathered into the earners" of his disobedient and thankless children. Still I Rke November best. Though it is colder, its coldness does not produce the unpleasant effect of a raw October wind, which has come to you on the back of a mid-day sun at 85 degrees, and which promises, three hours hence, to return, to use a jockey phrase, a " few stun heavier." Then, for the pleasures of October ; list to the troop of disorderly urchins on the alert for the walnut and chestnut forest, or bending beneath their rich prize, a basket of half- ripe grapes, the while shouting most obstreperously. See the happy shooter, cap in hand, his dog at his heels, creep- ing upon the unsuspecting wild duck, or, happier still, re- turning with two or three brace, sometimes a dozen, which he has " killed flying" (the great boast of an American duck-shooter), unutterably proud of the feat, and happier ' than a courtier to whom majesty has nodded. October is, in America, emphatically the " Sportsman's month/' and hence its approach is hailed with a lively joy by all -"vbo love duck-shooting ; in other words, nin<^ k- ten o* those who dwell on the margin of the Atlantic ocean. For HAVERUILL. 73 ipcded, to gaze t month of the he winds has the unwhole- departed, and and twinkling es, and apples, )me again. I ber to October do. October ky, and then it month of the i, the maize— )lden bounties ;arners" of his ike November s not produce id, which hag it 85 degrees, iturn, to use a Lo the troop of t and chestnut jasket of half, grously. See ; heels, creep- ppier still, re- L dozen, which an American , 6hd happier ed. October s month/' and )y by all ^vbo • ten o* those ocean. For m the space of four or five hundred leagues the coast is dotted with small lakes or ponds of greater or less extent, and these in October, and during the whole of autumn, till the rigours of winter shut them up, are the resorts of immense flocks of wild fowl. They are pursued with a singleness of pur- pose, which leads to so much poverty and wretchedness, that the best argument ever brought forward to prove the expediency and benefit of the English game-laws, is the evil consequences of an unrestrained exercise, in America, of the liberty they abridge in England. Where game is so cheap as it is there, where a pair of delicious wild ducks can be had for a couple of shillings, or a half-crown, and sometimes for a shilling, it can never be attended with profit, or be successfully followed as a business. It is how- ever, an exceedingly pleasant sport ; and, there being no check upon it, multitudes resort to it, who are too poor to afford other pleasures than those of using a mattock throughout the day, that their children may break bread at night. I must use the opportunity to repeat that thei*e cannot be a better proof of the advantages attending mo- derate and judicious restraints upon shooting, and the tak- ing of game, than the evils which result from the practice in those countries where no " qualification" is required, but each one shoots when and where he likes. It sounds harsh to our ears that a tenant in fee-simple should be de- barred shooting upon the grounds he has paid for: — and yet, do his true interests sufFe ? are his essential liberties im- paired by a measure which refers him for amusement to the plough and hoe, instead of the dog and gun ? October is beautiful from other causes than those I liavfe named. There is a calmness and serenity in the air, es- pecially from the commencement to the middle of the month, which forcibly remind one of the two most beau- tiful things in nature, the matured and mellowed beauty of a lovely and virtuous wife, and the deathbed of a resigned Christian. There is an invigorating and gladdening spirit, *' a gentle and soothing Ariel" abroad at that time, which sheds a delicious balm over the feelings, making us happy and pleased with ourselv( 5 and the world, we know not why or wherefore. The fall of the leaf, go like the departure of man to ihe dust, it is true, induces pensive thoughts Vol. I. — 7 I ' I. ,t ■ ti' "\ i Vi'J :WoJt.:!f:, 74 HAVERHILL. '# ' in him disposed to be contemplative ; but the general effect of the air in this month is to renovate health and to create contentment,inward peace of mind, and an increased flow of spirits. I cannot exactly tell why I prefer November, but I do. Perhaps my preference for this more bleak and churlish month arises from my taste for domestic pleasures, my sin- gular — my unaccountable predilection for the species of happiness, which I call " fireside happiness." Mine is not the " so domestic" faculty of yawning away three hours at home, which mothers ascribe to their daughterswhen setting out their " good points" to a bachelor of expectations, but an innate, born-wit h-me disposition to be happier at home than elsewhere. Nor is it the pleasure of sitting still and lying still, though neither of these modes of existence de. serves the many hard things which have been said of it. I don't know exactly why it is, but so it is. Joy is certainly fostered and promoted by cold weather and a brisk fire. Build up a good fire, I care not much whether it be of coal or wood, I prefer the former, and assemble some six or eight pleasant and well-educated persons of both sexes around it, rather more females than males, say about five to three, close the shutters, light candles, and sit down to lively and sprightly conversation, or to music, with a rubber of whist to end the evening, and I am furnished with the ma- terial of happiness. You may have these things in Octo- ber, but not so pleasantly, nor can you unite them so well in December. When we add, howel^er, to the enjoyments common to either month, the health that is generally its perquisite, and the boon of a contented and thankful heart, we shall find ourselves, as far as our natures will permit, furnished with every thing necessary to our hap- piness. It may not be amiss to say a few words of the amuse- ments and diversions of the people of New-England, at this season of the year — a picture of national manners, and such this assumes to be, would be incomplete without such a sketch. When the labours of the New-England agriculturist arc terminated for the year by the housing of his crops, he has notiiing more to do but get in his stock of winter fuel. IIAVERHILrM 1^ He is not, as in England, Belgium, and some other places, a being who labours unceasingly, busy as a moth from day- light to twilight ; he has or makes more intervals of rest than are profitable or becoming. It is true his climate, which is dry, with long winters, forbids, were he ever so industrious, his giving to his fields the beautiful carpet of green which belongs to England, Ireland, and parts of Bel- gium ; but the warm sun, of which he gets a larger quan- tity and in greater perfection, would, were he equally in- dustrious, patient, and attentive, aflford him a greater return of crops of the grains which depend more on heat than moisture, than can be procured from the earth in any Eu- ropean country. But he will not labour ; wonder not then tiiat his fields soon become impoverished, his herds leaq, and his crops scanty. i 'f ■% CHAPTER XI. I HAVE mentioned duck-shooting as a favourite sport of the New-England people ; nearly allied to it is the charac- teristic " shooting match ;" where large numbers of keen and practised sportsmen assemble — oftentimes from the di:- tance of ten or even fifteen miles, to contest the palm of shooting. Until near mid-winter, the object contended for is a fat turkey or goose, — later, a half dollar, or its double, is usually the prize. You shall sometimes see thirty or forty young men assemble : " Juckct and Sogg, from Assawomsit;'* " Doty, from Scragg Neck ;" " Phipps, from Beaver Dam," &c. (fee. — the Russian Court Guide shall be nothing to it for hard names. The turkeys, geese, or whatever are the ob- jects contended for, belong to him who " makes the match." Upon a perfectly level field is placed a board, upon which a figure resembling, and about the size of, a turkey or goose, is chalked out, and into some part of this figure the shooter must throw a bullet. This, it must be remarked, is for a " smooth bore" gun ; for a rifle, he will be required to hit the neck, or it may be a round O, about the size of ti. - M. \fi\ 78 HAVERHILL. ?''' f «l a crown, in the centre of the figure. The distance the object is placed from the shooter varies — when a rifle is to be used, thirty rods is the usual distance ; when a smooth bore, from sixty to eighty yards. The shooter is generally allowed to " rest his piece," that is to take aim with the muzzle of his gun resting upon another's shoulder, or upon a cross rail fixed up for the purpose. Each pays so much for permission to shoot once. When the report takes place, the noise and hubbub which ensue baflfle description —it is confusion worse con- founded. Great numbers of boys are always in attend- ance ; and, besides, ragamuflins and blackguards congre. gate there as surely as Shylock's merchants did on the Rialto. If the shooter has deposited his bullet within the ring, or ideal object, he takes his choice of the turkeys, or geese, or whatever else he has been contending for. Another " pays his shot" and succeeds — to lose, or to win and wear his prize, like his predecessor ; and so on till the whole are disposed of, or the insufficiency of the company to " kill" them is proved. In the mean time, " whistles having been pretty well wet," (an American phrase for drinking,) " lots of fun" abound ; wrestling matches take place ; and sometimes a milling match or two is got up from the remains of an old and unadjusted quarrel. These sports are by no means honourable to the character of New- England, and were always lamented by the wise and prudent, whose influence was, however, not great enough to effect their suppression. Another amusement of the lower classes is found in what are called " huskings." The occasion is this. When the maize, or Indian corn, becomes ripe and fit to be gath- ered, notice is given that " on such or such a night, Mr. Johnson or Mr. Smith will have a husking." Mr. J. or Mr. S. go to work, and gather in their corn, which is de- posited, on a clean piece of sward, unhusked,/. e. unstripped of its leaves, in rows of greater or less length, nicely rowed up. Upon the stated night, at about seven or eight o'clock, crowds of young men and boys begin to assemble from far and near, coming sometimes fifteen miles to take part in the frolic. They labour in stripping the husks from the ears of corn till the whole is finished, which may be interspe every tli pets, bli by a list poor ne| played i have I S( from so impossit son, or I I can all that I h( white ol " Fire hi outcries, hit de ni &c. &c. fore the feast no eat so m fusion u] gave hin to excel home th Wher feasting, compan; mission of the n them, so the sexi which ui mention) or who to claim HAVERniLIi. 77 distance the A'hen a rifle is vhen a smooth Br is generally aim with the iilder, or upon pays so much and hubbub )n worse con- ays in attend- lards congre. s did on the let within the le turkeys, or [itending for. ose, or to win [ so on till the the company ne, "whistles n phrase for matches take wo is got up arrel. These character of the wise and great enough is found in ; this. When fit to be gath- a night, Mr. " Mr. J. or which is de- e. unstripped ingth, nicely even or eight I to assemble miles to take e busks from hich may be eleven or twelve o'clock at night. As the labour is not of a nature to compel them to be silent, and as rum is circu- lated profusely, you may be lure that a noisier crowd is seldom seen out of the halls of Momus. Songs, generally profane and indelicate, shouts, Indian war-whoops, sounds in imitation of the barking of dogs, and crowing of cocks, interspersed with the rough " yo-heave-ho's" of the sea— every thing that can make discord, except " drums, trum- pets, blunderbusses, guns, and thunder," — is to be heard by a listener upon one of those occasions. If there is a poor negro present, he is sure to have the " devil-and-all played upon his black carcass." Poor old Cesar ! How have I seen thee pelted with " rotten ears," which came from so many diflerent places at once that it was uUerly impossible to charge the offence upon any particular per- son, or to say, as Nathan said to David, " thou art the man." I can almost fancy, now, when forty years have passed, that I hear the sounds, " Now for the nigger !" " Hit the white of his eye. Bill !" " Aim for his teeth, John Grey !" " Fire high. Bluster !" and the poor creature's complaining outcries, " Dere ! side a head, massa Lynn !" " Oh, dear, hit de nigger on he's tummuck !" *' B'lieve dey killa me I" &;c. &c. But Cesar was always paid, and overpaid, be- fore the company separated. He was feasted till he could feast no longer; his own language was, " Swear I nebber eat so much afore." Money, too, was showered in pro- fusion upon him ; every one who fancied he had hit iiim gave him a penny ; and, as all were anxious to bethought to excel in this kind of shuttlecock, Cesar usually went home the largest proprietor of copper in the parish. When the corn was all husked, dancing, drinking, and feasting, the bait which had been held out to collect the company together, began, and continued without inter- mission till daylight. I should have mentioned, that many of the rustic beaux brought their girls upon pilions behind them, so that there was the admixture and proportion of the sexes requisite to a well ordered dance. A custom which usually created a little commotion, deserves to be mentioned. Whoever, in husking found ears of red corn, or who could get others to give them to him, was entitled to claim from the girls a kiss for each and every one he 7* ■^1 \ M 78 HAVERHILL. ■r'' **; hed. The penalty was always demanded, and, as the ladies arc the last to abrogate good old customs, it was always paid, unwilhngly they said, but, nevertheless, thev paid It. The " Nabby, sha'n't 1 !" and the " No, 1 vow you sha 11 1, Phil," ring in my cars even while 1 am writing 1 here was another festive meeting of the youn^r women of the lower class, which produced a call upon the bache- lors, and ended m a dance. This was a •• quilting frolic " the beginning and ending of which was in this wise. Wc will suppose a case, in which the custom shall be exempli, hed. i rissy Dexter, a very pretty village belle, very na- turally wishes to be married, and know-ig that nothing is so attractive to New-Englund bachelors as the prospict of ample protection from cold weather, she resolves that they shall see a specimen of her industry, and a proof of her preparedness for matrimony, in the shape of a quilt of as many colours as the garment in which Jacob arrayed Joseph. She makes one, and sends for all the prettiest young girls of her acquaintance to come and help her to quiIt It. They come soon after dinner, and make their httle fingers fly like the pickers in a cotton-machine until It IS ftnished. In the mean time, the young men of the " set have been apprized of the intended frolic, and come bringing with them a fiddler and abundance of cheap liquors and wmes. They see, they admire the quilt, and a thousand rough jokes, as to who will be the first to sleep un- der it, pass and are applauded. Dancing then commences and continues until half past nine or ten o'clock, when thev separate. This practice is only in use in the country, and among the lower classes. But the prime occasion for mirth and merriment is the session of the county, or court of inferior judicature. This JSu^^T coynty was in the months of November and May. The holding of the courts of justice is deemed a very im- portant matter in America, and draws together greater crowds than any other cause. Large as the counties are, sometimes forty or fifty miles square, crowds from every part of It flock to the place where the court is held. It is not alone for the transaction of the legal and ordinary pur- po8e»of judicature that they assemble, it is a kind of burse, where bargains of various kinds ai'e entered into, and out- RAVEKHILIi. 79 standing accounts of a pecuniary and not untVequently of a personal nature are settled. Here old friendships are renewed, old quarrels amicably or scientifically teriiiinated —but the purposes and achievements are i luraerable and indefinite. The New-England people are not a litigious people, at loast they were not forty years since, and seldom go to law; probably quite as much from a fear of the expense which attends it, as from natural placability and disposi- tion to avoid wrangling and contention. I must do my countrymen the justice to say, that there are fewer law- suits going on in their civil courts, and fewer returns of "«» true bill" to indictments in those of criminal jurisdiction, than in any country I am acquainted with. Not but that occasionally there is an action for assault and battery, or lor a trespass of cattle upon insufficient enclosures. Mur- ders may not happen once in twenty years ; highway rob- beries never ; and theft is so unfrequent, that you will scarce hear of a docket that supplies a couple of cases in half a dozen years — at least, such was the state of the country forty years ago. What it is now I cannot say, not having been in that part of the country since 1784. Upon the whole, the docket is usually so lean, that were there a law made to send the lawyers out of the country, it could, I am convinced, be cleared in a day, as well as the three usually devoted to a term. "Court-time" is a holyday in New-England and is always honoured with a very full attendance of its lieges. It is spent by those who are not actually engaged in court, in the employments before enumerated, or in wrestling, horse-racing, and the usual extravagances of men who meet for no other purpose but fun and merriment. Usu- ally more criminal offences are enacted during term-time than in the three months preceding it, that is, the court makes more mischief than it mends ; I believe, a not un- usual circumstance. In the November term of the year 1758, several cases came on for trial which excited a more than common dei^ree of curiosity, and attracted larger crowds than usual, — Tt was upon the whole a " Black Monday" term. The calendar was reckoned a very interesting one. One case IMAGE EVALUATION TEST TARGET (MT-3) %f4 1.0 I.I ^^ m £ ^ Ilia 1.8 1-25 1.4 1 1.6 ■» 6" ► 'VQ .^' '^' <* '^ >7 ^4 /^, 7 Photographic Sciences orporation C S: ^ ■s^ iV ^s ^9) .V 23 WEST MAIN STREE" WEBSTER, N.Y. 14S80 (716) 872-4503 m 6^ iV iff 80 HA.VBRHILI. IV^ which attracted considerable attention, and created a deal of talk was this :-^ sailor, by name Jack Saunders,-! like to be particular, the doing so stamps an air of credi- bility upon your narrative, for it passes the capability of human impudence to invent such a thing as a name -—Jack hired a horse to go from our village to Pinfold', across Wapping's Creek. Saunders had been drinking a little too much; and, while crossing the creek, which bad been swollen by recent rams, the horse, which was a very restive one, threw him, and he was drowned. The horse was arrested, and tried for murder, but was acquitted, from want of testimony that he did the act from malice pr™ pense! It was mamtained,--out of doors, howeverLl never heard what the judge's opinion was, that an indict- ment coud have been sustained. It was pretended by some, that the whole proceeding was a piece of wagfrerv on the part of the gentlemen of the bar to exposf the ignorance of jurors, and their incompetency to the duty of Siting m judgment on the lives and property of their fellow-creatures.* f i- j ^i men But the case which excited most interest, in my mind was that of Indian Bill and his mother. Thei?o^nce was the supposed abstraction of ^ quantity of corn from the house of a farmer m the parish. Bill, who was two years older than myself, had been brought up in ourW ^1 the age of fourteen, and his mother had resided ?or as many years as I could remember, in a small wigwam, or tl 'Xh'y '^^f ^T ""y ^^'^^'''' Many were the hours I had devoted when a boy, even when 1 had grown to be a very big boy, to the tales of diablerie related by the mother and to the strange imaginations and wayward ^nces of the son. Two more singular beings never W Sf. T T^"^""-' ^"^ originality of thei? ideas would have made them interesting, even to a philosopherXw Sn.'^^fK w. ^ ^y ^""°'^^'"g '» the wonderful ^d feeling withal the warmest friendship for them These individuals belonged to the rsmnant of a tribe HAVERHILL. 81 who lived in the neighbourhood. They occupied, as I have said, a corner of my father's field ; and here they usually cultivated a small patch of corn, of the species which bears their name. Cultivated, did I say ? Yes ; they cultivated the large and healthy plants with the most assiduous care ; to use their own phrase, they " nursed up the warriors ;" but when a plant was small and sickly, they left it to perish ! This improvidence was natural to the race, and extended to whatever was intrusted to their care. They had lived just long enough among white people to become imbued with many of their notions, and to incor- porate whatever seemed traditional and supposititious in the Christian faith, with their own wild and singular opinions and practices. Thus they believed that there were two mighty spiritual intelligences, a good and an evil, opposite in nature, and each sovereign and supreme in his own dominion. They gave to the good spirit the name of the « Great Man," the other they called the " Little Man." The one took the spirits of the good, the other those of the bad ; and, to avoid collision, neither interfered with the concerns of the other. But the tenet of the Christian faith which most perplexed them was, that the good spirit should be all powerful, and capable of restraining the evil spirit from afflicting men, yet fail to do so. "If the Great Man is strongest," demanded the boy, " why does he not tie up the Little Man ?" This question, with all its simplicity, in- volved the subject so long and so idly discussed, " Why God permits sin to be in the world." In this straight- forward simplicity and thirst for knowledge, he put the question to the clergyman of the parish, who effectually cured him of an inclination to put any more polemical po- sers, by interpreting the theological difficulty with his whip. Their opinions and views of a future state, and place of rest after death were not so interesting as those of the wild Indian, for they had mixed up their own superstitions with the doctrines of their white teachers ; and, from the two systems, compounded a " faith" which wanted the purity of the one, and the wild and poetical beauty of the other. Nevertheless, their belief was singular, and not without a touch of sublimity. They pretended to have gained their knowledge of a 82 HAVERHILL. mn i\ J. future state from the source intimated in the following tale or tradition. « There was once upon a time, many ages before, in the tribe of which they formed a part, two valiant warriors who feared nothing but shame. One of them loved and was beloved by a beautiful maiden, who persuaded her lover to undertake the journey from a wish to know if the soul of her deceased sister remembered the promise she had made her, of feeding with sweet berries and cherishing in her bosom, the soul of a little bird which they had mutually nursed and loved. The other warrior had lost his mother, whom he tenderly loved, and he wished to go and see with his own eyes if theyused her well in the 'town of souls,' nor bowed her back to heavier bur- thens than accorded with the faintness of advanced years " They left the village of their people, and after travel-* ling tor many moons in a very crooked and difficult path they came to a sharp and rugged rock upon which the sky was rolling to and fro with a tremendous sound, and a motion like that of the ocean when tossed about by a tempest. The winds were gambolling about the path, not as upon the earth, invisible to the eye, but with shapes, J'^T.r'!^ u'^'''''^ ^^""^ ^^''y beautiful, and some more frightful than ever entered into the conception of a mortal Ihe stars, which the inhabitants of the earth were accus- tomed to see chained within certain bounds, were there floating and dashing about in the air like a canoe on a troubled sea. These were the dominions of the evil spirit, who had set traps and snares and baited hooks for them, but whose arts they were ultimately enabled to baffle. After travelling for some days with much fatigue and suffering, now buffeted by the terrific forms of the north and east winds, and now a little soothed and com- torted by the beautiful shapes of the breezes of the south and west, they came to the milky- way, which was the path to the country of the good spirit. They found this path thronged with innumerable hosts of spirits of all colours and all sizes, all bound to the "great home." After tra- velling m this path for two snows (two years) they came to a great town surrounded by a very high wall. Within this wall, which was of vast extent, enclosing rivers, lakes, torests, prairies, even oceans, dwelt the souls of the good. HAVERHILL. 83 I were accus- They were possessed of every thing which could give pleasure to the red man. There was the river filled with fish, the lake filled with wild fowls, and the grove with birds. They saw in the open space a fangless panther, and heard in the thicket the growl of a fat bear that could neither bite nor hug. The speed of the deer was outstripped by that of the spirit, and the wings of the wild turkey and the brent-goose failed to convey them out of the reach of the sprightly inhabitants of the town of souls. Their corn grew up like trees, one of their pumpkins was ag much as a stout man could carry, and the produce of their « bean-patch* was a thousand for one. Tl e sky was al- ways clear and serene, the east wind was never allowed to come there ; but whenever he made his appearance was driven thence immediately, and there was a perpetual spring, without chill or frost, the year round." Such was their belief of a future state. It will not be necessary that I should point out what part of the tradition had been derived from the white people, the reader will need no assistance to enable him to see it. Every thing with them was a spirit, or had its spirit. Every lake, cataract, meadow, hill, movmtain, every tree •which twisted itself into an unusual foi m, every vegetable production which grew to an unusual size, or in growing cast itself into an unusual shape, was a spirit The winds were spirits, even the jack-o'-lantern was a potent and fear- ful spirit. Atmospherical phenomena of every kind were attributed to the intervention of spirits, every misfortune to their agency. They deprecated their anger, and invok- ed their protection continually, and were happy or miser- able as they believed those invisible beings friendly or inimical to them. Infinite were the interviews which old Sarah had had with the souls of the dead who had left the happy abodes to wander back to the earth, some on errands so trivial and meaningless that her hearers would sometimes sigh to think that the poor creatures took such long journeys for no- thing. She had seen my grandfather several times, nnd brought messages from him to my father. Once she had seen her mother's spirit employed in knitting woollen hose for her father's. 'This displeased her very much, and, ac- cording to her own story, she had sufficient spunk to read i r' 84 HAVERHILTi. her a severe lecture on the shame of the thing, that she who was so abominably lazy whilst she was in this world should pretend to have acquired habits of industry in the other. She had seen the devil repeatedly, and gave me the fullest and most accurate account of old Rawhead that I have ever received. She described hhn as a very tall and exceedingly gaunt old gentleman, wearing his own hair, parted on the forehead, and stroked down on each side of his head, a scarlet cloak, white cocked hat, topped boots, and corduroy breeches. This to my boyish fancy seemed much more reasonable than the asbestos garments given him by the parson. His complexion was very cada- verous, she said, his teeth rotten, and his eyes green as grass. She described him with such exceeding accuracy that I never thereafter, for more than six years, passed the " little gate in the hollow on the road to Benjamin's" by daylight without a shudder, and never at all by night. Once she had been visited by an *• angel," who was sent down to inquire in what season of the year the herrings first made their appearance at Taunton, and how many persons there were at Nantucket of the name of Coffin, and whether a certain Dr. Bradford was bookish and knowing. According to her own story she was very re- pulsive to this gentleman, — the angel, — deeming that he ought to have known all these things without troubling her about them. The evidence produced against the prisoners was such as to satisfy every person in court that they had actually committed the theft of which they were accused, and they were accordingly found guilty by the jury, and sentenced by the court to be publicly flogged, and afterward to be imprisoned a month. Some circumstance, I forget what it was, occurred to delay the execution of the sentence to the next day. That night the prison was forcibly entered, and they were set at liberty. The perpetrators of the out- rage were not known till some years afterward, when the criminals, who were no other than myself and my brother James, confessed the wrong. It was not the first time that I had screened those po3r outcasts from humanity from punishment. The recollecti( n of the times I had inter- posed to shield them from sufliering has not been among the unpleasant ones, I assure the reader. \-} BATBRHILL. 61 CHAPTER XII. In the month of December there was a marriage in our family, the incidents and sub-incidents of which ser/ed to enliven a few of our moments, and to chase av/ay a little of the melancholy which had stolen upon me, and the gloom which grew deeper on the brows of my parents, and broth- ers, and sisters, as the hour of parting approached. Should there be among my readers any one upon whom "weariness of life" hath fastened, who would go a mile in a stormy day to behold an incident which should awaken a mirthful feel* ing, or dispel a mournful recollection, such will thank me for the picture I am about to give of a New-England courtship and wedding in the year 1758. There is, or i ather was, for the American youth court and marry at the present day with as little ceremony as if they were born Frenchmen, and the " ask-my-mamma" hangs upon the lips of the maidens much as the sword hung from the ceiling of Dio- n} '''US, and may be shaken from them as easily as an apple that has hung upon the bough till winter ; I say there was much that was patriarchal and primitive in the manner of wooing and wedding formerly in use in New-England. It was in the conduct of their love affairs that their ultra-deli- * cacy and puritanical notions were most fully displayed, most warmly defended, and longest preserved. It is not for us wlio live in these days of " bold suit and service," when, to be a thriving wooer, one must adopt any rather than the " Fabian policy," and never be Slender when he has the nerve to be Archer ; to hear without a smile of the re- spectful distance preserved by tiie rsuitors of that day with their mistresses — their half-averted glances, the withholding of even a love-whisper, or gentle pressure of the hand, till papas and mammas, and uncles and aunts, and brothers and sisters had duly approved. How different is it at this day ! When I gave away my Patty, it required the ut- most length of visage I could command for the occasion to keep my gentleman from laughing in my face while he Vol. I.— 8 1 'V > KHl is/' ''"fWmSOBsBx^" 86 HAVERniLL. i';i ,( " !' talked of his anticipated hap-^!ness. Ilnppiness forsooth' Had any one, upon such an occasion, fifty years before dared to talk to a father of happiness, lie would liave been considered a Hbertine— a good-for-nothing fellow, whose morals were none of the best, and who iiad better be sent about his business at once. Yet do we not find ourselves asking whether there w^, not more conjugal affection and fidelity in those days than there is now — whether divorces and crim. cons, were not fewer, and separations a mensa* if not a /Aoro,* of far less frequent occurrence? If there was less heard in those meek and " soul-subdued times" of the « moon-light walk" the "stolen kiss," the "stammered confession," and the blush, mg answer," with the consequent train of privileges and compliances, evil, blameless, or neutral, may not the author- ] ized and legalized tenderness have been deeper and more enduring, the post-nuptial kiss more fervent and pure ? j know not, but I exert the common privilege of my country, men, and guess. It has been said that love begins with the first sigh and ends with the first permitted kiss. I do not go quite so fur as this cold maxim in my code of laws for the regulation of ante-nuptial behaviour, but I am a warm advo- Gate, upon principle, for a very restrained intercourse be- tween the sexes, unless sanctioned by marriage. Take my word for it, young ladies ! the word of an old and observant man, that it will be all the better for the parties if there be little lip-labour performed, and few " rings and seals" ex- changed before that ceremony takes place, which removes the interdict from indulgence, and makes that innocent and proper which was not so before its occurrence. ,< The young man who came to woo my sister had been in business, in the village, about two years. The phrase " in business," to make it intelligible to European ears, requires a brief commentary, since it describes a condition of life, and involves practices which are not found on the elder continent. I will premise that an American may be defined loosely a " human bargaining being." To be en- gaged in traffic is his glory and delight. And then so sharp • ^ mwiM," from board," a thoro^^^ from bed." These are law phrues, but moj;« ezpre«nv« and emphatic than the translation.— -iJrfi/or. W HHHUi'lV fll -' ffJi I^HHI if ^^^^^^^^k m^^^^^wr i nAVERHILL. 87 and keon. " It is a truth," said an olrl friend of mine, " that I have known a countryman bargaining with a spider to Kveave a web for gnats, and pay him in Hies, stand an hour disputing whether he should give him three or four." In America, to be in " business," or to be " set up in bu- siness," means to be provided with and to enter into pos- session of a stock of merchandize foreign or the produce and manufacture of the country, or both. The display of these wares for sale, no matter how small their quantify and value, in a shop no mutter how confined, is called a "setting up in business," and hi the smaller villages and country towns, makes the occupier, in common language, la "merchant." Tiiroughout America, with the exception |of the slave-holding states, where rank and exclusivencss, the importance attached to being well-born, and the dis- j grace attached to the following a mechariical or mercenary pursuit, obtain, strange as it may sound, in a still greater degree than in Europe, the venders and traffickers, there called " merchants," divide with the legal profession the honours and emoluments of office, and are looked up to by (the common people as a superior order of men. They are more frequently than any other appointed magistrates, !and elected members of the state legislature, foremen of Ijuries, managers at balls, chairmen of political meetings, l&c. &c. And though it seldom happens that there goes as much tact to the composition of those small traders ns [would serve to make a decent M. P., there have been in- Istances of their becoming " congress-men," judges, even lambassadors, to say nothing of militia generals, who it is jwell known are principally manufactured out of traders. I The influence they exercise, especially in the small towns land villages, is great and permanent, and their gains almost I always abundant and sure. The individual, of whom I am about to introduce a description, will be a fair representative of his class— the outline of his habits, thrift, and shop, will, in so far as enterprize is concerned, be, with the usual exceptions, that of the American trader, wherever found. It is to be no- ticed, that there cannot be much diversity of character in fthe American mercantile community, for the greatest part, perhaps nine in ten of those who are engaged in trade, 88 KAVBRHILL. come from New-England, and a large proportion of the remainder from the adjoining states of New- York and New-Jersev. The building in which Timothy Dexter, or, as he was I commonly called, " Tim Bones," from an incident to be related hereafter, commenced business, was of the narrow dimensions of twenty by sixteen feet, and in height a single story of eight. The roof only of the exterior was shingled, the upright being only close-boarded, with a careful battening ojf the interstices. There were shelves | around three sides of the interior, above the height of \ beer-barrel, with six inches to spare, and upon these shelves I were ranged the " great riches," — my mother's word, ofl this thrifty and prudent .youth. Pins, tapes, bobbins,' buttons, thread, camlets, coarse cloths of the two kinds] of New-England domestic manufacturo, called "linsey. woolsey" and " bear-skin," tea-pots, spices, pipes, tobacco, I were among the valuables with which these shelves were laden. Below, and resting upon the floor, stood a range of low casks, containing the melasses, vinegar, and the cheap spirits demanded by the thirsty class of people to whom his dealings were chiefly confined, and who were always satisfied with the liquor sold them, so that it were capable, to use their phrase, of " making drunk come." A narrow shop-board, or counter, of planed deal, upon which stood divers water jugs, and the cups and drinking cans which, in defiance of the scriptural command, he so often held to his neighbour's mouth, ran the whole length of j the building. The interior, totally destitute of plastering, was still further ornamented with nails, spikes, hooks, and I wooden pins, driven into the posts and beams, to serve as props for rusty fowling-pieces, coils of rope, fish-lines, and the other etceteras of an American trader purveying for the lower orders, if that expression can be used of a country where all are equal, at least in theory. A few three-legged settles, or stools, and a bench fifteen feet in length, were the accommodations provided for those who chose to drink their dram within doors, or to extend their " lazy length in solemn show" for other purposes. Having given a sketch of the " place of business" of my future brother-in-law, my next attempt will be to say something HAVBRniLL. 69 of its proprietor. In giving the early history of Timothy Doxier, I shall describe nine in ten of the lesser shop- keepers in America. He too was a friendless boy, and made his way to tho liigli dignity of a shopkeeper solely l)y prudence, economy, and dexterity in traffic;, aided perhaps a little by cunning and overreaching. Born of parents the lowest of tho low, vulgar, ignorant, and depraved, he had, at a very early age, shaken off the clogs imposed by his parentage an J poverty, and stood forth conspicuous for a talent which bade fair to give him riches. In the language of the country, he was known to be a " right smart lad," " a keen chap," " a raal shaver," all expressions declaring the popular opinion of his thrift and sagacity. His commercial career may be dated from his ninth birth-day. The nature, quantity, and value of the transaction which developed his trading tact is characteristic, and deserves to be recorded. His first speculation was in bones ; — beef-bones ; the quantity, half a Winchester bushel. A year before this memorable era in the fortunes of Mr. Dexter, a button- mould maker, travelling through the village in quest of the raw material of his trade, employed the boy Timothy to collect it, promising to give him half-acrown per Win- chester bushel for all he should collect. The boy instantly set about the task, and unweariedly employed himself until he had, as he supposed, acquired the property in half- a-crown. But he was doomed to have his hopes pros- trated; his employer disappeared, leaving the bones in the hands of their unremunerated collector. It was not in tho nature of the prudent boy to throw aught away, and it was quite as foreign to it to give any thing away which might, by any the remotest possibility, become valual)lo, and he deposited the bones in one of the dark nooks of his father's garret, where they remained undistur')ed for many months. It so happened, in some moment of boyish inter- course, that an act of more than usual kindness in an asso- ' ciate melted his heart, and, to show his sense of the favour, he gave him his bones I Repentance, sincere and fervent, soon followed. The occurrence of which I am about to speak was minuted down by him as a warning against tha iodulgence of grateful feelings in after years, and was thai 8* ■ m ■■'iii ^^■>»— ^•'•■'**'IWS6>S«S|»#JK»^ 80 HAVERHILL. ( ; cause, it was said, why it was the Inst generous action he WU8 ever itnown to perform. The button-mukcr returned, and renewed iiis oH'or. His prodigality, and the loss }ie had sustained by iiis thoughtle.33 gratitude, cut him to the heart. After dehberating a few minutes, he went to the doneo and ({emanded back the bones. They were returned, and Tim liastened with them to the button-maker, and received Iiis half-crown. This was the capital with which my brother-in-law com- menccd business, and this was the occurrence which gave him, in after-life, the nickname or epithet of "Tim Bones." I should mention that he had another, " Sorril," given him by the boys on account of his red hair. It was that by which he was always known, until the aftair of the button-maker occurred. Indeed, it is to be doubted whether he knew he had any other, for when he was asked by his catechist "what was his name," he answered " Sorril," and upon being asked who gave it to him, an- swered "the boys in the parish." At least, this was the story, though some said it was altogether an invention of that mad creature Jack Reeve. It served, however, to fix the nickname upon him, and the object of the perpetrator was answered. He laid out the two shillings and sixpence received for bones in the " tongues and sounds" of cod-fish, collected here and there fresh, and, therefore, cheap. These, when cured, he " swapped" for a keg of rum, which, with the aid of a cool and sweet rivulet near at hand, he turned into a fine penny. He went on plodding and speculating, at once the admiration and the laughingstock of the village ; one class of the inhabitants, the more aged and reflecting, calling him that " smart lad, Timothy Dexter," and extol- ling him to the skies ; another, the young and thoughtless, ridiculing him for the qualities which procured him the ad- mh-ation of their elders, and distinguishing him by the dif- ferent nicknames of " Sorril," " Swap," and " Bones." But Timothy throve,notwithstanding the jibes and sneers which were dealt 'out by his neighbours. A second fortu- nate speculation, quite as singular and extraordinary as tlie first, put him in possession of still larger means of indulging bit darling passion for trafiic HAVERniLt. 91 I have mentioned the old tnr Jack Reeve, and his pro- ponsity to fun and cxtravoKance. He hecame, wiiile in- (lul;i,niig It, the unconscious instrument of Timotliy's muliing anothijr fortunate move in the game of hfe, as he was wont to boast afterward, *• ho Jielped poor Sorril up a d^ d uiariy rounds of the ladder." In a moment of unsuspicious conlidcnce, the latter confided to Jack the important secret that he had made himself aiaster of forty crowns, and asked the opinion of (he merry old sailor " how he should /i^^ C^C/tM ^Cr-ui, . (Z^n^cL ^\^(t-U) /Lej/iyCU y you. ^to^^eTtdX)^ C A^acyi, 'JjU^ TkliyHk^ Ufcn^/- /o LU ^in^L^ (Z^ecJ^i^ona^id^ cyi/. i/}ThOny A^coo-etAt^ i '^^^p ... > HAVERHILL. 101 The lover came that evening, and the business was con- cluded. They v^rere « published," that is, proclaimed the next Sabbath, and the marriage took place as soon as the " three Sundays" of proclamation, required by law, were completed. The manner of conducting a wedding in New-England, at the period I am writing of, may be learned from the des- cription I am about to give of that which took place in our family. Great weddings, by which I mean lavish expendi- ture, and a great accumulation of company, were then the prevailing fashion, from the humblest cottage to the proudest mansion. The poorest labourer vied with the most opulent gentleman — that is, he asked as many as his house could contain, and he gave them to eat and drink far more than his means permitted. It was not seldom that the expense attending these weddings put the family, to use a sea phrase, " upon short allowance" for a twelvemonth after. These expensive weddings cannot be said to have had their origin in social feeling and love of merriment, or of whiskey, like those of the Irish, for the inhabitants of New-England arc by nature extremely parsimonious, sober as judges, and fiolemn as deacons, and care, in general, far less tor a merry- making than the coin it melts to procure it. But they are very proud, and thence prone to indulge upon occasions in great expense, that their doings may be noised abroad, and the reputation of liberality and ability to spend may rest with them. My mother, who took upon herself the ordering of Jenny's wedding, was careful to see that the company were f>aired with the most scrupulous regard to age and inclina- tion. And here Michael, for the first time in my recol- lection, made himself useful, V Altogether, the company consisted of about sixty ; — could the house have contained a thousand it would have been filled. They were invited to attend precisely at three o'clock. At three o'clock they came. It was a clear cold evening, wjien girl after girl, making use of Nature's sim- plest mode of volition, came trotting along in their pattens over the frozen snow with as much glee as if they hf\d been drawn by six of the finest bays that ever were harnessed to a Lord Mayor's state-coach. Some of the women 9* ,_JifM!»>P>t I. 103 RAVEHHILL. rode upon pilions behind their partners, and a few came in sleighs ; but the greater part were on foot. It was usual for the parson to delay his coming till four or half-past four o'clock ; the latter time had passed upon this occasion before he came. The interval between the as- sembling of the company and the arrival of the pa^'son was what the young people called the " cream of the business," and was variously passed by the guests, as their ages, dis- positions, and pursuits were various. The boys and girls passed it in mirth and laughter, in romping and flirting ; the more aged and seriously inclined, in conversation upon sober and serious matters, the weather, the state of the church, and of markets for fish and train oil, the war in Canada, the late sea-fights in the West Indies, &c. At last came the parson, full dressed, in gown, cassock, bands, and a wig of monstrous proportions. It was not the custom in 1758, as at the present day, for a parson to attend a wedding in simple black coat and trousers. No- thing less than full canonicals served them ; and the omis- sion to don the best apparel was construed into great dis- respect. His suit must be a very good black, his band lawn, and very white, and his demeanour as reverend as his wig. The appearance of the parson was the sign I'vfor silence, a smooth brow, and a staid manner. Soon the waiters, who were no other than my eldest brother and sister, en- tered, the former sustaining a shining mahogany tray, bor- rowed for the occasion from a neighbour, upon which were an infinite number of teacups and saucers, which according to the fashion of the times, held but little more than e com- mon thimble. The twin waiter, borne by my sister, was piled high with nut-cakes and bread and butter. When the company had partaken of the tea, and its attendant dainties, the bride and brdegroom, with the bride's men and bride's maids, entered from the back room, where they had been sitting with a very lame attempt at state. The party soon arranged themselves, and Mr. Hawes united the pair. When it was finished, the parson made a long and serious address to the young couple, during which the conduct of the company varied much. My parents wept, the elderly ladies looked with much meaning at the young HAVERHILL. 101 unmarried females, who put up their hps, and played with their feet on the floor, in aifected disUke of the subiect-mat- ter of the discourse ; while the young men hunched each other with their elbows, and grinned slily at the sober truths uttered by the reverend gentleman. Michael was, of course, as "busy as the devil in a hurricane," and asked Sally, in a whisper, which was overheard by half the com- pany, " If she ever see'd Sorril look so well before ?" Soon after, the parson took his leave. To those who know the restraints his presence imposed, it is unnecessary to say that the pleasure manifested at his removal of him- self was by no means equivocal. The hubbub commenced with salutmg the bride. The kisses employed in the per- formance of this duty sounded like an irregular discharge of fire-arms. This service ended, the fiddle of the happy Cesar began to discourse its beautiful discords. The newly-married couple and my father and mother were out for the first dance ; after which the company danced reels and jigs till supper was ready. I cannot find space to give this supper a full description ; suffice it to say, that it con- sisted of all the genuine Yankee delicacies, meats— baked, boiled, and stewed, pumpkin pies and puddings, cranberry and apple pies gingerbread, &c. &c. I shall say nothing of the vast mtity eaten by the guests, or of the gout with which they swallowed the choice bits provided for them. When the feast was ended, the subsidiary purpose of the feast, the joking and rallying, succeeded. Some of the jokes were " rather too much to the purpose ;" but it was considered that no " harm was meant," and they passed off well enough. At an early hour they separated ; and so ended the occa- sion, which served to give a little variety to a gloomy month. It furnished a subject for a great deal of talk among the villagers — that part of them who were not invited — de- claring that so foolish and wicked a thing had never been done within their recollection. " He'd better have laid it out in a cow," said Margery Luce. " He'd better have bought a bed with the money ;" said Temperance Howland. "After all, Sorril is a fool ; and it «an't be any great catch to get a fool," said Dinah Davis. 104 HAVERHILL. ■I." ; i ' ini m' CHAPTER XIV. The winter of 1 7.58-9 passed away without the occur- rcnee of nny thing of very great importance to break iu I quiet. In the month of January, 1759, there were two vessels cast away, the plundering of which aftbrded con- siderable business, and brought some money or moneyV worth, to the village. There was an arbitration of the claims for saving the part which was not stolen, but whicii I might as well have been, for the charges amount^.!, as usual, to something more than the value of the articles saved. There were three or four marriages in the place, and the usual proofs exhibited, both " at the present time," and "in future," of the great value of a fish diet in settling new countries. There were two " accidents," both in the family of the pious puritan Deacon Lumbert ; and there was, oesides, the usual quantity of ipinor joys and sorrows, good and ill fortune. Becky Peabody married General Trimbush, of Sag Harbour, and Captain Dill ran away with the daughter of his excellency Governor Mayhew, of Chilmark, and got — forgive me the expression — most cursedly bit. Upon the whole, the lottery of marriage that year afforded far less than its usual proportion of | blanks — it was a " white year" in the records of matri- mony. It may be remembered that I had fixed upon the month of March for my departure. As that month approached, the gloom deepened upon the faces of my family. At their persuasion I consented to defer my going till my bro- ther John should be so far recov ■ >d from the effects of a bad fall upon the ice as to be ab!f^ ' v; 3 his seri ii the fishing-boat. I knew his seat ( 'u '.siierwise filled— there were twenty ready to take the unemployed oar, but I also knew, and properly appreciated, the beautiful feel- ing which induced my affectionate parents to seize on this pretext to detain me at home, and render nugatory the consent I had wrung from them. The love of a mother for lil'i s i. MAVBBHILL. 105 her chiklrcn probably is the strongest passion of which human nature is susceptible, and sometimes leads to singular modes and proofs of ullection. I am certain that the love my mother bore me would have made her wish my brother John a cripple for life, so it should have been the means of detaining me at the parental hearth-stone. I cannot de- scribe the disappointment which was visible in her coun- tenance when the bruises began to put off their blue and purple livery, and the staff was dispensed with, and the announcement was made that within four days he would bo as well as ever. She could not control her tears, and rush t1 IVom the dinner table to give vent to them in an- other apartment. To prepare the family gradually for the event, and to render the parting as little painful as possible, I began to bustle about, and to make my preparations for departure. The bare mention of the army threw my mother into great ogony. It had been one of the multifarious employments of that sad fellow, old Jack, to sit cross-legged at our winter-fire, and detail his imminent perils and hair-breadth escapes in the old German wars. He had all the partiality of a veteran tar for the ocean, and exalted the dangers and hardships of military life, and depressed those of the naval, with as little truth as courtesy. If you believed him, and my mother did with the faith of a devotee, it was just nothing at all to be drowned, or killed by a musket or can- non ball fired from a ship, or to be transfixed with a board ing-pike in her nettings, but it was exceedingly painful as well as troublesome to be killed in "the campaigning busi- ness, in that same d — d thundering land-service." She had listened to these stories till she believed them, and now, as a consequence, attached the same opinions to the two modes of warfare that were held by the veracious chroni- cler of Hawke and Anson. To soothe her as much as pos- sible I promised that I would take a sea voyage before I tried military life. It was not necessary that I should ap- prize her of my determination not to go an iota beyond this engagement— unless indeed that upon a further acquaint- ance with the ocean, I should like it well enough to make it the field of my future exertions. Probably, the life of a sailor is easier than that of a soldier, but glory was my !!■ 106 HAVEIlIIILr,. 'I . .( m ; '? ' i]^ object, and I suppose it is easier attained in the conflicts of armies upon tho land than of navies upon the ocean let valour and heroism are quite as conspicuous in the sailor as the soldier— perhaps more universally so. It need not be said that when sailors fight it is more like devils than Jike men. There is something in nautical life and pursuits which cultivates the rough and martial energies of our na- ture, without extinguishing those which are essentially mild and tender, and by accustoming us to one class of terrors inspires us with resolution to face that of another. Thougl' valour be valour every where, and true courage the same ' in all situations, it is certain that no class of men so little tear death and danger as those who are bred to the ocean and accustomed betimes to the terrors of a sea-storm, and a sea-battle. To them the former is absolutely nothing at all, and the latter a mere frolic,— rather a grave one it is true, but still a frolic, and is met with as little tremor of the nerves as the first dance after a return from a three years' cruise. How is this insensibility to fear acquired ? By habit ? The initiated say it is, and Jack himself will tell you that — " When once you're used to it, Uis nothing at all." I Whatever were my thoughts of the comparative value of the two branches of the " Killing-no-Murder" trade, I kept them to myself, and went on in orderly preparation |or my intended voyage. There was about twenty shil- Jmgs due to me from the farmers for whom I had done work; and this was appropriated to the purchase of articles absolutely necessary to my equipment. I collected my clothes— a lean wardrobe, and set my sisters to re- pairing them, replacing the metal or pewter buttons with the more characteristic buttons of horn, and sewin^ patches upon the elbows, and wherever the cloth had given way or was likely to do so soon. They made ine a number of shirts of "checked homespun" (a kind of coarse cotton cloth), and of red baize, and my dear mother, with many sighs and tears, hut not a word of com- plaint, sat down to mend my stockings, and to knit me a couple ot woollen caps or wigs. My father covered me i' HAVERHILL. 107 a couple of hats with new " tarpaulins," i. e. canvass be- smeared with tar ; my brother Jame^painted my sea-chest anew, and put on a new lock ; while Timothy, not to be behind the others in kindness, went to work, and intro- duced half a fathom of codline through the handle of my huge jack-knife, in order to its being slung around my neck, the approved mode of carrying this indispensable article of nautical life. These are the known preparations of sailor-boys for their maiden voyage. These details may be uninteresting,— undoubtedly, will be so to many, for I have not said a word about the " duke," or the « dutchess," nor named " Sir Peter," or " Lady Wil- helmina," once^ But 1 must again remind my readers that mine is a tale of hunible life, and embraces a portion of the simple annals of the poor. I will not consent to de- stroy its verisimilitude, because the refined may choose to smile at my homely descriptions and unadorned phrase- ology. Upon my own head be the disgrace, and upon myself, and not to my excellent publishers the loss, if I fail, by reason of painting too literally and minutely the circumstances which happen when friendless youths embark on the voyage of life. It was now the first of March— I named the twentieth of the month as the day upon which I should leave home. There was to be an opportunity to go to Boston upon that day, and I intended to embrace it. That town was then, as it is now, the great maritime and commercial mart of New-England, and the place to which sailors resorted, in greatest numbers, to procure nautical situations, or " berths," as they are technically called. I was, besides, to receive ten shillings for assisting to navigate the vessel thither, end I need not say how important the smallest trifle was to an unbefriended boy with only two crowns in his pocket. It was natural that I should wish to see Mary before my departure. I had not seen her to speak with her since the preceding September, nor had I sought opportunities to do so. But now that I was about to leave home, I knew not for how long, my resolution to avoid her gave, way, and I said to myself " I will try to see her once more. It cannot do any harm surely. The difficulties which at ?M 108 IIAV£RUILL. present impede our union may be overcome perhaps. If I fail of seeing her, why, after all, it is only giving myself a walk, which will be very good to * stretch my legs,' as my poor mother says." CHAPTER XV. It was just after sunset when I repaired to the spot con- secrated by affection, and so often mentioned in the early part of my story. It was a very beautiful evening for that season of the year ; the mild condition of the skies trebled my chances for a happy accomplishmeni of my object. I seated myself, upon my arrival, on the old bench, and was employed in recarving the name of| " Mary," a former labour of mine, but now defaced by time, or a ruthless hand, when I heard a light footstep rustling the dried grass on the bank above me. Turning round, I beheld Mary, standing within a few feet of me. In a moment I was at her side. She gave me ;her hand, and half wiUingly, half reluctantly, permitted me to kiss her cheek. She was much thinner and paler than when I saw her last ; her rosy cheek and laughing eye were gone : the snow was scarcely whiter than the former, and the latter was even now dimmed with a tear. We sat down together on the bench, and remained seated several minutes before either of us spoke. It was not an " unex- pressive silence," however ; for her hand was in mine, and her head bless me 1 I forgot the lesson inculcated in page 86. She was the first to break silence. In a low voice, and with a mournful smile, she said — « I did not think to find you here, I thought your visits to the larch were suspended ; I thought you nad forgotten the tree, and all connected with it." " Unkind girl," said I, while I pressed her gently to me, *' how could you think I should forget the larch ? Oh, no, "»•".», di low voice, and HAVERHILL. IQ^ dearest Mar}', I am a thorough reminiscent of the days that are passed— the happiness 1 have experienced in vour company." ^ "No romance to-night, Lynn," said she, with a laugh, which was a little like that of the earlier days of our ac- quaintance. «' You know I do not like any thing that sounds like romance, which is somewhat strange for a girl of mv years ; but I do not. And if I did, I should have, I think, taste enough to see that this is not a fitting time. A romantic speech would suit a May morning, when one goes to gather primroses, or a July evening in a honey- suckle bower, but not to-night. It is true it is a very fine evening ; but still it is a March evening, and there is at this very moment a large snow-bank lying within ten rod» ol us. Oh, Lynn !" and she actually smiled. "It is not romance, but truth, dear Mary, that I am uttering," said I; "I have forgotten nothing— can never forget anything connected with you. I remember every word you ever uttered in my presence." " You must have a great deal of nonsense in your head, " Now, do be quiet. I remember every look you ever gave me ; and I esteem as sacred every spot connected with your sweet idea." "Well, I never but I see you are not going to laugh any this evening, and I forbear. Indeed, I know not how I came to laugh myself. You spoke of recollec- tions: you are gomg to leave these shores, I hear; and, as absence is said to impair them, I shall, probably, soon be forgotten." ^ " Has absence impaired yours, Mary ? Has our has separation weakened the sentiments of regard you were once pleased to say you entertained for me ?" A look, full of the tenderest meaning, assured me that she had not. Never had she shown so much love before • nev-er had there been so little disguise imposed upon her tenderness. To all my fond protestations of love and con- stancy she listened in blushing and tearful silence. She was still my own dear and beloved Mary, and I was for a moment happy. She besought me not to attempt to see her again, both from a regard to her happiness and to the commoi* Vol. I. — 10 1 ' i f 'i ■i ■ :;'' 110 HAVERHILL. ' ♦■ ■]!■ Iff , n':.\' '»■ r i. iti interests of our future hopes. The difficulties which existed to our meeting each other were such as only time and my prudence and perseverance in an upright and honourable course could overcome. She would undergo fewer re- straints and incur smaller risk of being compelled to marry another, if our attachment should remain unsuspected till such a time as I should be in a condition to ask her hand. If it were once known to her parents, she would, probably, be sent out of the country — if I remained in it; or be exposed to persecutions and an. espionage which would, perhaps, end in our eternal separation, and at least destroy her happiness. With a few more sweet words of encour- agement, more interesting to me perhaps than they will be to the reader ; for the conversations of lovers, in their moments of confidence and tenderness, are proverbial for their stupidity ; and, therefore, I shall omit that which took place between me and Mary ; — she held out her hand, and faintly pronounced the adieu. It was not her lover's plea- sure to permit her to depart so ; I demanded a kiss, and no excuse would answer. Blushing, pouting, frowning, but still consenting, though, according to a custom I have no doubt as old as Adam, protesting that I was "rude," "saucy," "naughty," &c. she permitted me to enfold her in my arms and take the kiss. Kisses, prompted by fond and deep affection, after long absences, and where there is ripeness on one side, and youth on both, are proverbial for their length and endurance. Mine was sufficiently so to permit a spectator of our momentary lapse from the cold and icy rules of propriety and decorum to steal unobserved upon us. When we "raised our eyes, her father stood at a little distance, looking at us with perfect nonchalance. He had chosen the moment when our souls were " lapped in their elysium" to approach us unnoticed ; and now stood surveying' the scene with a calmness and composure similar to that which precedes the opening of a broadside from a ship of war. The agony of Mary at the surprisal cannot be imagined ; and for myself, I must confess that, though constitutionally the boldest of the bold, and per- fectly insensible to fear ; that, dear as that kiss was to me, and far as I would have gone to obtain it, unobserved and undetected, I would rather now have missed the pleasure HAVSRHILL. Ill than incurred the reproof. Mary burst into tears, and dropping at her father's feet, took his hand, while she said — "Indeed, dearest papa, I am not guilty of doing wrong. I came here by accident." "Hold your tongue, miserable and debased ingrate— unworthy to bear my name— disgrace to my house !" exclaimed he, bursting at once into a rage so excessive as almost to impede his utterance. " From you 1 ask neither apology nor explanation. The reproof you deserve shall be administered in private. Go to your mother, go- instantly— now— before I am tempted to do that which I may rue for ever. And now, sir" (turning to me), « why is it that I find you here ?" v & /» J- I was prevented replying by Mary, who again threw herself at his feet. " Hear me, my dear father, my beloved father, listen this once to your own little Mary ! Do not tax Lynn Haverhill with having done any thing dishonour- able : do not scold him, for he has not deserved it. That I am here is not by reason of his asking. I declare, my dear father, in the face of heaven, that we have met here this night by accident." " And was clasped in his arms by accident, I suppose ! And, oh God ! that I should live to say it of ray only child, was being kissed—by accident ! Marv !"— he appeared to be at the point of spurning her frqm him, when sud- denly there came over him a singular change of behaviour, a complete revulsion of feeling. Gently patting her cheek as though nothing had happened, he said to her, in a soft, soothing voice, « My daughter, the evening is chill, you Will take cold ; retire to the house, and we will talk over these things to-morrow ; I will then hear your explanation, which I do not doubt will be perfectly satisfactory. As for Lynn, I am sure his story will be open, sincere, and candid. Go, my love, and see that you warm vour feet, and see that Lydia warms your bed well. I fear you have taken cold already. Ay, you are a good girl. There. And now that the victim — perhaps, of your duplicity the debased and ruined— appearances warrant all that— daughter of an ancient house has left us, will you be so good, Lynn—but i beg pardon for pretermitting the cog- I V n f ^i; III M 1 1 ^IIB H| ■ ilffMB H ■ fH ill ^:M m 11-2 HAVERHILL. ," 1 1:11 l,'ii';A .M' nomen— Mr.— Mr. Haverhiir (with a sneer), « Dick, or the Devil, be so kind as to tell me, Mr. Haverhill, why I find you here ? Why, sir, do I find you, in the dark hour of night, loitering about these forbidden grounds ?" I had not as yet lost command of my temper, withal I remembered that he was Mary's father, and I answered him calmly and resi)ectfully. " It is the spot, sir, 1 love to look at, because of the many happy hours 1 have spent here : and, seeing that I am soon to leave my native land, I have come to look at it once more — perhaps for the last time." " You would, I half suspect, be impudent enough to tell me that the pleasant recollections and the happy hours refer to my daughter. Or perhaps you will find it con- venient to deny the truth, as many a doughty hero, alias a midnight vagabond, has done before you." "Young as I am, sir," said 1, retaining a perfect com- mand of my temper, " I have never yet found myself con- Btrdined to lie, through fear of any man." " Nobly said, i'faith. If saymg were the whole business 1 should think you— the Chevalier Bayard." "No question can be asked me which I will hesitate longer to answer than to bring my memory to know \U task and my eyes to see the questioner." " A brave lad ! you ought to have been at least drum- mer to Captain Bobadil or Ancient Pistol. A most mag- nanimous youth to be the son of a taker of cod ! But how can less be expected, when the cursed doctrines of equality now preached up — ay, and practised too — bid fair to push from his stool every man who has above twenty pounds a-year and a change of linen. 1 did not know that we had a Paladin on our shores in the disguise of a taker of cod. If 1 do not in future suspect a 'thief in each bush,' I am sure I shall a hero under each fisherman's apron, a consul's galley in each chebaque-boat." I had remained calm under all the insults he had heaped upon me, but my blood refused to be quiet any longer; I could not resist my inclination to eke out his speech by recalling to his mind a known trail of his character, — " and be sure to heap insults upon those who dare not avenge them." Arhole business HAVERHILL. 113 jHe raised his cane to strike me. " Do not, I beseech you do not. I will bear all your taunts patiently, but you must not strike me." " I will beat you as I would any other snake I" and the cane seemed in the act of descending upon me. " Do it, then ; but at your peril. 1 repeat that I will hear your taunts unmoved for the sake of your daughterj but strike me, and I forget herj—your age,~honours, everything—but to take instant satisfaction for the sham« you will have done me." He let his cane drop, and coolly demanded. " Have you the impudence to look at my daughter with eyes of love ?" " Heavier crimes than to love above one's degree havg been called by a softer name than impudence." " And lighter rewarded with a heavier punishment than, in the distracted state of thisd— -d country, and the relaxed condition of her courts of justice, will, 1 fear, be youra, But to the point, do you love my daughter ?" " I do ; better than the blood that warms my heart." " Do you know who you are ?" " I do. I am the son of a fisherman." "Very poor?" " Very poor !" " Very humble ?" "Very humble I" "Very ignorant?" "Very ignorant ! But who, poor, humble, and ignorant as he IS, is a very honest, peaceable, and moral man, who fears God and loves mercy. My father, sir, has a wif* and nine children; he has fed, clothed, and supported theai to the present hour, without begging or borrowing a penny of a human being, or defrauding living man of the value of a hazel-nut." " So far your pretensions are stated with truth, and with due humility. Your father is the poorest of the poor, and the humblest of the humble, but he is moral and honest. Do you know who I am ?" " You may not like to be told." " You can say nothing to wound me, therefore I wish you to tell me what and who I am, and let your opinion be neither more»eor less than the echo of the world's." 10* ;i li't V / rl m 1 14 HAVERHILL. " If I make my report so full I shall be sure to ofil^d you." Ill " Severe enough, in all conscience. But speak plainly, and I will thank you for your candour." " Then I will tell you. The world says you are a proud and iron-hearted man, possessed of great tulents and large wealth, the first chiefly exerted to augment the last, the last used but to grind to the dust the humble poor." "Insolent boy !" ^ " No, sir, I am not insolent, but ♦ tread upon a worm,— you know the maxim. Besides, you desired me to tell you what the world said of you." " I did. Is this my character?" " It is, sir, far and near, from one end of the province to the other, and by all, from the humblest labourer that works in your fields to your fiivourite groom, Will Thurston." . " You are a bold, and some would say insolent youth ; but I invited the discussion, and must abide the conse- quences of my condescension." "At your request I have told you the truth, — an unpalatable truth, perhaps,— but still the truth." " You have said that men call me a proud and iron- hearted man, arbitrary, and a hard master." "I have; but 1 must for the third time repeat it was not till you had requested ine to tell you what the world said of you." "When you was a labourer in my fields did you find cause to blame me? Did you think me a hard master ?" , , i " No, I did not, thanks to these hands that were able to do, and did do the work of two, rather than your generosity and care of my welfare." And I held up a pair of hands which cold winds, and salt water, and hard knocks, and the handling of the oar, and the axe, and the mattock, and the cod-line had rendered as hard and as brown as the hide of a buffalo. " If there was a command coi.vcyed to the overseer to spare Lynn Haverhill, he heard it not." „ " You were indeed a noble fellow— in the field," said he, softening, ^" tfiere, I think, I never iw your equal. ' ' I HAVERHILL. H5 And but for your presumption in aspiring to my daugliter, you siiould — " " Lend your gang of reapers, or mowers, or follow your plough." " Ay ! should you." " Or drive your market-wagon at a shilling a day, and be taught to whistle a teamster** gamut into the bargain." " 1 would do a great deal for you." " 1 don't doubt it — in a certain way, — and be careful to see yourself in receipt of a crown piece for every four and six-pence disbursed. 1 thank you, sir, — if you mean me well, from my soul I thank you, but 1 look for higher employments and nobler rewards." " You mean then to quit your present course of life ?**. he asked. " Yes, sir." " For what other pursuit ?" " The army or the navy — the former of choice. But to please my kind parents, I have consented to go one merchant-voyage first." "Insolent and impudent — no, I will do you justice, you are not, never have been either— I gave you great provo- cations — that attempt to .strike you was unmanly : am- bitious, madly ambitions as you are, Lynn Haverhill, and much as that ambition thwarts all my plans and hopes for the settlement of my child, I take, believe me, a deep interest in your fnte, and should be very sorry to hear ihat you had done otherwise than well in the journey of life. Besides, it is pleasant though mournful to us whose shadow is sinking on the dial, and who are practically acquainted with the delusive nature of human joys, to listen to the views and hopes of a warm-hearted and resolute youth about to embark on the tempestuous ocean of life, fearing neither rock nor quicksand, anticipating nothing but fair winds and pleasant skies, expecting noitlier cross nor enemy. Vain hopes ! poor boy ! How small your chance, friendless as you are, of succeeding in your object. It is like the attempt of a young eagle to soar whose wings are broken." " Report says that your ancestor in the third remove from your father was that eagle, yet made good his soaring. If ^-'vw.- 7J^1 116 HAVERHILL. il I mean no disrespect to you, sir, but I have heard it said, and never disputed, that he was st«ble-boy to the Earl of Northumberhind. Yet he became a nobleman, a great one, and lived respected and died regretted by half a na- tion. Men forgot, in the nobleness of his mind, the dignity of his manner, and the excellence of his heart, that he was found rolled up in a woollen rug on the king's highway. He did not find it difficult to conquer the impediments to fame and fortune." " Report says true," remarked he, thoughtfully. " But those were times when wise heads, stout hearts, and strong arms were in great request. It was the era of the recovery of England's rights from the grasp of the Stuarts. The first Lord Danvers excelled most men of his day in wisdom, strength, and intrepidity. Ay, they were stirring times when he gained his dizzy altitude." " And what, sir, are these in which we live?" " As far as regards the colonies, calm and tranquil. We, in these distant regions, may send our swords to the tower- armoury for safe keeping, and go to sleep with a willow- twig for a door-latch." *' Still may the pllace be found where a name — or a grave may be had for the asking. 1 have but to cross an ocean to stand among hundreds of thousands of embattled war- riors. The great Prince Ferdinand and the greater King Frederic are just the men to reward those who will dare what I will dare to raise myself from the situation which alone has led to the abuse and epithets which Judge Dan- vers has this night heaped upon me." " Pshaw ! you take my ^jokes too seriously," said he, much softened. "And yet they were rough jokes. Alas for your hopes, my poor boy, if they are founded upon Frederic or Ferdinand. The theatre of European war is a very long way off, and money — " " Would be wanted, true — that crushes my hope." " I will ft^rnish it — if that be all that is wanted." " I thank you, sir, but 1 would not accept it from you to save my life." " I suppose not. You are a proud boy." " Other regions besides Europe hold out prospects of war. Canada," «i> HAVERHILL. U7 •« The war is finished there." «' It is not thought so by some. In my opinion, the opinion of a boy, however, the next campaign will be both brilliant and bloody. Letting that alone, do you not be- lieve, sir, in the existence of a revolutionary spirit in our own country ? Can you not discover the throes of the whirl- wind, which at first merely scatters the leaves, but in a few minutes rends the tree that bore ihem." " There are, undoubtedly, troubles in embryo," said he. "I have always maintained, and have done my best to make the ministry believe, that there is a latent disposilion in the people of these colonies to throw off' the rule of Great Britain. But what will avail that disposition against the fleets and forces which will be sent out from Eng- land, backed by the powerful party in this country, who will prefer that the colonies should remain colonies rather than become independent statet! ? And besides, the king will do us justice, who then will vv ish independence ?" " Hancock, the Adamses, the Lees — I could swell the list to thousands. Young as I am, I can see that when the time arrives every pretext will be used to raise the standard of rebellion." " It is, I happen to know, now in contemplation to tax these colonies towards the burthens which the mother- country has incurred by her expensive German wars." " And that measure, sir, will allow of our raising an outcry, whether we are hurt or merely scared. Let Great Britain raise the cry of taxation, and mark how long it will reverberate. It will be made an alarm-bell, upon which will be rung ten thousand changes — 'Oppression,' 'Magna Charta,' * King John,' ' no taxation,' &c. &c." " And what do you think will be the consequence of an attempt to tax these colonies, without allowing them to be represented in the body from whom the measure emanates ?" "War, bloody war. We are descended from the heroes who achieved the great revolution; we possess tue ardent love of liberty, hatred of oppression, and fear of being en- slaved, which are born with every Englishman. Withal, we are a very avaricious people, and shall be apt to consider every measure which has a tendency to abstract money 118 HAVERHILL. !•: . from our pockets as one aimed at our personal liber- ties." He remained for the space of a minute in deep silence, then turning round suddenly, and grasping my hand with a fervent pressure, he said, " You are a wonderful — very wonderful boy, and must have been intended by the God of nature for something far better than your present con- dition promises. Your knowledge — how acquired Heaven only knows — your singular copiousness and correctness of language, speak a mind of the rarest endowment. Your sentiments, your very step, are those of high aristo. cratic birth. How did you get your learning ?" " From your daughter, sir." " My daughter ! If she has been your teacher, the evil I feared is indeed deep-seated. Lynn Haverhill, listen to me attentively. I mean it not as a mere compliment when I say that you are a youth whom the greatest man in the realm of England might be proud to call son. 1 have had my eye upon you for years — ay, ever since you was ten. I have seen you the prop of your father's house, honest, industrious, prudent, faithful. I was not, to be sure, pre- pared for the learning, spirit, and eloquence you have this night displayed, but still I have long known you had a superior mind. I have always done justice to the vigour of your mind and the goodness of your heart. But you cannot marry my daughter. She was betrothed before . she was born to her cousin, Charles Danvers. Upon their union depends almost the existence of our house. If the marriage do not take place, an estate, worth three thousand a year, goes to our greatest enemy — to one whose cursed arts wrought the ruin of a beloved and lovely sister, whose hands were dyed in the blood of a brother, yet who lives to taunt us with his victories over our house." " It seems then to be a match made up of interest and revenge," said I. *' But do you think, sir, there would be greater guilt in shooting this seducer and murderer through the heart in broad daylight, or stabbing him in a dark night, than there would be in sacrificing your daughter in marriage with a man she does not love T" " How do you know she does not love her cousin Charles?" HAVISIIILL. 119 ersonal Iiber< " Aik her, sir.'* " I will." •• But do it with a smilintf brow. Tell her you leave her the freedom of choice, tUl her that you will accept for gon-in-law the man she prefers, and see if she name Charles Danvers." " She would name you, perhaps ; I think you mean as much." - " I think she would." " I would not accuse you unjustly," said he, after a mo- mint's silence ; " yet I think I see in you, Lynn Haverhill, a crafty youth, bent upon making an ambitious match — bent upon marrying above his condition. Displeased as I must very naturally be with your presumption — call it af- fection for my daughter, — and the impediments it offers to the prosecution of a favourite plan, I will give you proof of the estimation in which your talents and a nameless something compel me to hold you. I will tell you the rea- son why you cannot marry my daughter. When you have heard it, if you are the honourable youth I have always thought you, and hope to find you, you will quit the hold it seems you have acquired upon her affections, and leave her at liberty to enter into the views of her father. The story is a long one ; and as the air is getting cool, and the hour growing late, I will not require of you to listen to it now. If you will do me the favour to meet me to-morrow morning at eleven, at the Indian Graves, you shall hear it. At all events, your time will not be thrown away, for it is worth hearing, I assure you." fh 7G her cousin HAPTER XVI. He was punctual to his appointment, and commenced the promised piece of family history as follows : — " My father was born in Wales, the maiden name of my mother was Luttrell. Her father, a respectable physician in London, died at an early age, leaving three orphans, a 120 HAVERHILL. son and two daughters, dependent on the affection of a maiden aunt. They were supported and educated by her, the daughters, till their marriage ; the eldest with my father, the youngest with a Bedfordshire gentleman by ihe name of Temple ; and the son, till his departure fromEng. land in the service of the East India Company. My uncle was a resolute and determined lad, and gained a speedy promotion. After an ab,'5ence of nearly twenty years, he returned General liUttrell, with a decent fortune — quite enough for one who disliked the gay bustle and parade of the metropolis, and wanted ♦ rest and a harbour.' My ntiother, previous to his departure, had been his favourite sister ; she was now a widow, and he came, immediately on his landing, to our house. Having contracted a great aversion to marriage, from having seen a great deal of matrimonial squabbhng in the family of his tutor, after- ward in that of his sister Temple, and otherwise witnessed much connubial strife, he sat dov^' at Danvers-Park, pur- chased the adjoining estate of Baigholdt, and became as | much one of the family as any individual in it. He avowed his intention of bestowing his wealth upon my brother and myself; and was at his own proper charge of educating us ; directing, by my mother's consent, the course of our studies, nominating the branches and appointing the tutors. Occasionally he visited the * house of strife,' as he called Templeton ; but his visits were few and far between, and withal of very short duration. Neither there, nor any where else, did he make any secret of his intended dispo- sition of his property ; but openly prepared his last will and testament, in which the estate of Bargholdt, worth three thousand a year, was given to my brother and my- self jointly in fee. My sister was provided with a decent marriage-portion ; and there were some trifling bequests of personal property to my cousins of the • house of strife.' We were named ' residuary legatees,* a term which, for the benefit of those who may not know what it means, I translate, 'They are to have every thing which I have not specially given away in this will.' '• My brother and myself were married yoimg, to women in the choice of whom our own inclinations and those of our mother and uncle were united. But we were doomed, for many year^, to disappointment of the fondest hopes HAVERHILL. 121 which follow the possession of the object of our affection —neither of our wives had any children. Regard for the feelings of our companions forbade our showing the regret we felt at a circumstance always painful to a husband • but our uncle, who had none of this delicacy, made no scruple of expressing his dissatisfaction. "I had been seven, and my brother six years a husband, when our good uncle, who had been to us more than a father, showed symptoms of a decline. When he returned from India, ho brought with him, implanted in his consti- tution, but kept under by his habits of temperance, a dis- ease, whicii attacks more or less, I believe, every person who visits India. And now, though he had lived twelve years in Eni>].md, a great part of the time in the enioy- ment of tolerable health, and never very ill, he was evi- dently hastening to the grave from the operation of that latent cause. In this low state of body, and with attendant wea.aiess of mind, he became dispii-ited, because he had not shown as much affection for my aunt Temple as he had done for my mother. He wished to revisit Templeton once more, that he might make some atonement for the supposed wrong he had committed in withholding from one sister her moiety of his love and tenderness. Seeino- that his heart was set upon repairing his supposed injustice, we consented, notwithstanding his extreme weakness, that he should go ; but he effectually resisted our earnest entrea- ties that either ir.y brother or myself should bear him com- pany. He set out, attended by two of his own servants, brant, a Cheshire man, an honest and oxccllcnt, but very simple fellow, and Ritchings, from Sussex, one of the most thorough-paced villains that ever lived. We had often persuaded our uncle to turn this last away, but he had been W'th him for many years in the East, had once saved him from the fangs of a tiger in a Bengal jungle, and he would not listen to us. " He wrote us, on the fourth day after he left, informinr- us of his safe arrival at Templeton. Soon after a lette? came from our uncle Temple, stating that his disease had taken an unfavourable turn ; three days after we were informed of his increasing illness, and in less than two weeks, of his death. We do not, never did believe, that any V OL. Xt—-H i .IL. 122 HAVERHILL. improper means were used to hasten his departure, but the suspicion struckus immediately, and forcibly,that an attempt would be made to nullify the will he had executed in our favour, by exhibiting one of a later date. Our suspicion proved correct. When the testament by which he had be- queathed his estate to the two sons of his sister was deposited with the officeib legally empowered to take cognizance of such matters, we were told that the seals of the Prero- gative Court had been affixed to a similar instrument, purporting to be of a later date, and containing quite a different disposition of his property. A different disposition indeed ! " By this latter will the estate of Bargholdt was left to John Temple, the eldest son of Edward Temple, Esq. of Templet on, Bedfordshire, and his heirs in tail-general, as it is called, defeasible only upon the happening of the follow- ing contingencies : ' To wit, that in case Jane, the present wife of the present Robert Danvers, of Danvers-Park, Sur- rey, should bear a son to her present husband, and that Sarah, the present wife of Temple Danvers, also of Dan- vers-Park, in the last-mentioned county, should bear a daughter to her present husband, and that the son so born to Robert Danvers should intermarry with the daughter so born to Temple Danvers, and have issue, born within wed- lock, and alive, that then the said estate of Bargholdt should go from John Temple, or whoever might claim and hold through, from, or under him, to the said son of Robert Dan- vers, and the said daughter of Temple Danvers, so inter- marrying and to the issue so born, or afterward born of their bodies.' It was an instrument evidently dictated, I should say made, by the Temples, though signed by my uncle, and such every unprejudiced person pronounced it. " Not doubting for a moment that improper means had been used to procure this will, we set about taking mea- sures to defeat it. Our first object was; to ascertain in what state of mind the testator died ; and this could only be done by examining the servants who had accompanied him to Templeton. Neither of them returned to our house upon his death, and it was only after a search in which we were baffled for months, that we succeeded in finding one of them. By the merest accident we heard of a 1 '■- HAVERHILL. 133 ov«nn answerina to the description of Grant, employed fn aTn-m ne?C^^^^ to the father-m-law of my unclTTemple. By adroit management we succeeded ^" ^Srjriold by Grant tallied exactly with our suspi- rions He stated that General Luttrell grew more and Ire^ll every day after his arrival at Templeton, and soon peuneqTvLal'signs^ Lpeared perfectly lucid after the first week of his les^ dence at the Hall, and at times was totaWy ^«t. Grant said he soon saw that exertions were making by the 1 em S s to induce him to change the disposition of h.s propeny. ^rhe general frequently spolce to him m his more lucid mo menti of the attempts which were being made ^J.^^^^ Zv and her family upon his property, and talked f^^^^^ santly while labouring under his ^elancholv fits of dd.num Xaysdeclaring his determinationnot to alter the fi^^^^^^^ hut to ' leave his property to those who deserved it. h our or five days befo?e his death, Grant was sent upon some ^'re'e't oTother a considerable -tance urto the countiy, and Ritchings, the other man, supplied his place. When Grant returned to the chamber of his master, he found h m more than usually delirious. He raved most incoherently Tmaue^s and tLgs jn g-eral ; but that which see^^^^^ to nress on his mind the strongest, and to excite the mosi paiSl reg^^^^^^^ a new wilfhe had signed whereby he had 'defrauded the poor boys of their rights. Still, he said 'he had left them a chance by which they might escape and heCedthev would-would be able to meet the devil and ovSe hhn-he had battled manfully he had-he ;lldnrmalethewillassom^ ^.^anted him to make it-but. to make ^^ -^y^^f^^^^^^^^ signed what was neither here nor there-which lett ms ru pies to neither this one nor that «"^- , /J^f, "JL^^^^ was speechless, and so continued until the hour ot his death, which took place on the third day. " During L whole period of his master's •""ess »nd aftefh death, the family at Templeton were ami. of Tfts ind attentions, both upon hunself and Ritchings. f mmedlate^upon the deceasi of the general he would have 1«:' 124 Haverhill. » .V ? :h . 'I, ' m i' : % ■■« finding such friends coninlrf "aT """^''^"^ '''"■'""«« latter will we commlS™'' '"'.'»<^='Pa<='ty to make the cause was SCto use the'S't '"^S""""?- The appearing to conte^t^rvaM .T„fteir,oH ? P"""^ the recognTsances or bondf h""?.' f^'^ ' ^" ^^^ ^^^^^ited HAV£UMILL. 12:- " The defendant produced a host of witnesses, his own menials and dependants, who swore that at the time the testator made the will under which John Temple claimed the estate of Bargholdt, he was of sound and perfect mind and memory — in other words, swore just what their master bade them. Among these appeared the villain Ritchings, whose testimony, from his having been much about the person of the deceased for tlie ten days previous to his death, principally guided the court to the opinion and judg- ment they gave. He swore positively to the fact of the testator's mental soundness, and related a great maiiy inci- dents which went to prove him in his right mind. He told his story with so much simplicity, straight-forwardness, and a^rreement of One part with another, that we were almost compelled to yield credence to it ourselves, knowing as we did his unrivalled talent for concealing his depravity and wickedness under a smile which should appear to be that of sincerity and candour. There was probably not a person in the court who distrusted his evidence, except those who believed him to be peijured, ourselves, and those who knew him to be so, the defendants. The will was established, and the triumph of the Temple family was complete. They took immediate possession of the Bargholdt estate, an event we deprecated the more, as they thereby became our nearest neighbours. "A quarrel in the servants' hall at Bargholdt led to dis- closures which would enable us to prove the perjury of the villain Ritchings. We took measures for doing so, but took them with so little secrecy that he escaped our grasp. He .went off, it was said, vowing vengeance against us, and was traced as far as Portsmouth, where he embarked in a brigantine bound to Nova Scotia. He has never been heard of, at least by us, since. " We continued for some months to have no sort of intercourse with our neighbour, the proprietor of Barg- holdt. We could not say, however, that he did not bear his blushing honours meekly. He asF:umed no state, affected no consequence, appeared at church and upon all public occasions very meanly attired and attended, and by his easy and gentlemanly behaviour, his extreme affa- bility and kindness, so won upon the good will of those 11* * it 136 nAVERHILL. \i whom he visited, or with whom he had dealings, that he became the • hon' of the neighbourhood. Of all men living, he perhaps most excelled in veiling his vices and loibles. No man could, more effectually for his purposes put on a show of goodness or assume a thicker mantle of hypocrisy. * » Having established himself in the good graces of the people of the neighbourhood, his next aim was to be ad- mitted into our house upon terms of friendship. He came to the door, we could not refuse to open it to him. Our good mother listened to his protestations of compunction and repentance-protestations made with tears, believed him smcere, and succeeded in pacifying her song His first reception was very different from what he must have expected ; and though my mother was the only one who gave implicit credence to his slory,yet we so far forgot the leud, so facfound palliatives for his conduct, that we invited todo sJ^'''''^ *^^ ^'''** ^^''^' ^^ ^"""""^ ^^^^^ inducements iul\T^ '''' r ''"'^. "^T '^'*^^' ^"^ ^^^' ^t this time, was in the bloom of youth the pride and delight of ouHiouse My daughter resembles her very much : but Mary, beau- titul as she is, cannot be compared for either chaims of person or graces of manner with my lost sister, though perhaps her superior m mental endowments. And then her sweet and cheerful disposition, her playful and innocent' wi! i.^"^^*^- ''"'^ ''""'^^ '^°w much we loved her Whether playing upon the lawn with her pet lamb, or touching the strings of the harp, or plying her httle feet in the dance, or teasing her fond and delighted brothers with the hundred whimsies and caprices which haunt the bosom of a belle and a beauty, an only daughter, a petted sister, an e uar '''''' irresistible and without " To this beloved girl Temple paid assiduous court ; and being one of the handsomest men I ever saw, and verv accomplished, soon succeeded in winning her affections It was not pleasmg to either my brother or myself to witness tins attachment ; we distrusted his pretended re- pemance of the particular injury he had doAe us, as well as his reformation from his general libertinism. But he MAVKRHILL. 127 had completely won over our mother to his interest, and through her influence, and the fond entreaties of our love- sick sister, we were induced to withdraw our opposition. Besides, in the way of interest, nothing could be better than this match. It would bring the fine estate of Barg- holdt into the family, and seat our sister for life within two miles of the place of her birth, and the residence of her mother and brothers. « But the object of the accursed villain was not to marry my sister, but to bring dishonour upon the family ; and he effected it. My heart almost drops blood at the thoughts which this subject revives in my mind. He succeeded in seducing her from the path of virtue, and when it was im- possible longer to conceal the consequences of her fatal indiscretion, she — I cannot say eloped with him, — but she was missing, and that was the readiest inference to be drawn from her disappearance at the threatened period of exposure, and at the same time with his " three weeks visit to the continent." At the end of that time he re- turned to Bargholdt ; what became of her, God only knows. We were not able to trace her a foot beyond the boundaries of our own estate. She was never heard of from the time of her leaving the family mansion, unat- tended, on the morning of the ninth of Mf", 1740. "We offered tempting rewards to any one who would bring us information of her ; we used prayers, entreaties, and, lastly, threats to the seducer himself; all alike proved useless. We have never been able to obtain any clew by which to trace her flight, or find her grave ; we know not whether she died, or is living at this time in some obscure part of the globe, brooding over her guilt and shame. My hope is, however, that the morning of her disappearance was that of her death." Here the narrator became overwhelmed with grief, and could not proceed for some minutes. When he recovered his composure he resumed his narrative, as follows :— " The blow almost destroyed our family. My brother made an immediate call upon the ruffian for satisfaction, was met by him, and killed the first fire. My mother, who had never known what is called good health, and for two years had been considered in a very precarious state, did 128 UAVERHILL. v not survive the double calamity a month: Temple refused my own call to the field, saying he had fully satisfied the claims of our family upon him. " Surprising as it may seem, my brother left his widow pregnant. In less than six months after his death she be came the mother of a son, who was named Charles, after his father and great uncle. And, as if heaven had deter- mined to frustrate the nefarious designs of John Temple and render of no service to him the crimes by which he' fiad hoped to obtain gold at the expense of our family while, at the same time, ho should blast our happiness four years afterward my wife gave birth to my daughte; XMary. 1 hus the two parties were in existence from whom were to spring the issue to defeat the contingencies of the vvil and under It to claim Bargholdt. Now, if the union of these tvvo Char es and Mary Danvers, takes place, and there should be a child born of their marriage, the estate over which John Temple now lords it becomes absolutely and indefeasibly vested in them, and he will be reached in the only part m ^yhlch he is vulnerable. Judge you, then if under these circumstances, with this cankered arrow rankling for tvyenty years in my heart, these deep wrongs treasured up brooded upon, and unrevenged, I have not reason to wish the union of my daughter with her cousin J^very wish, hope, passion, thought, points to it. Interest' revenge, my afiection for my daughter and my nephew! the exceeding promise of his character, all demand the union ; nothing opposes it but the aspiring youth at my Side. It IS, Lynn Haverhill, an object very near and d"ar to my heart. I would to-morrow buy of}" an obstacle, not o herwise to be overcome, with i ae sacrifice of half my for- tune. Thmk-ponder upon these things. I command- entreat--beg you to give over your suit. You have un- doubtedly acquired a strong hold upon the affections of my daughter ; but she is young, and to use a vulgar phrase, ♦ will soon outgron^ it,' provided she does not sea you A farther prosecution of your suit can only end in disappointment and misery to both. My daughter nfust soon becle thTw f of another. Her future husband will be here within two Kv?'' '"i'^f^Sh the marriage will not, on account of Mary s youth, take place immediately, we shall almost ".\ \ HAYKBHILL. 129 immediately embark for England. In the busy scenes to wliich you are about to devote yourself you will soon forget my daughter. I see by your eye that what I have said has not been thrown away." " It has not, indeed, sir," said I. " And now, Mr. Haverhill," said he, grasping my hand, "if I can be of any service to you ; if I can promote, by my influence or my money, any of your views except that of marrying my daughter, . command mc. I repeat that my purse and patronage — I speak it, not in the language of the world — not because you have apparently yielded to my wishes, but because you deserve aid, — are both at your service — now — to-morrow — next year — as long as I live. Good by!" And we parted ; he to brood upon his schemes of thrift and vengeance, and I over my blighted hopes and faded visions of happiness. I wrote her, the next day, a short letter, repeating the heads of the conversation I had had with her father. I told her in that letter that I considered myself bound and her free. That the various little presents she had made me would be left with my sister Sally, to be reclaimed by her when she chose — all she had ever given me, except " one little lock of hair, and that was doomed to be carried to other chmes in the bosom of her sailor-boy." CHAPTER XVII. Never had thero been so cheerless a day known in our house as the twentieth of March, the day previous to that I had appointed for leaving home. It was the Sabbath as regarded occupation, k day of mourning as regarded the couritenance, a day of feasting as regarded the food. Every one was anxious to show his or her aflfection ; and each put in requisition tlie little means he possessed to en- dow me with something to remember him by. My sister Jenny knit me a pair of mittens of the liveliest colours ; fa 130 HAVERIIILTi. Sally gave me a snuff-box ; James a pretty penknife. There was a week's preparation for the dinner of tiiat day. Mv little brother Michael was sent to Esquire Hooper's, two miles distant, for raisins, that I might be treated with my favourite dish, a plum pudding ; and my father went a mile to obtain the ingredients for the requisite sauce. My mother set about making that universal titbit of i New-England palate, a pumpkin-pie ; and James went to a brook, five miles distant, to get me some smelts, because ** I loved them." Each and all endeavoured, in someway or other, to minister to my gratification. And what ren- dered the scene particularly solemn, and gave the house the appearance of a house of mourning was, that all the family had dressed themselves in their Sunday suits of so- lemn black ; and withal there were the " baked meats," to render the appearance of our house still more funereal. Not a smile was seen on the face of any one ; even the old house-dog, commonly wont to testify great joy at the reassembling of well-known faces, now lay stretched out in a moaning sleep, as if he partook of the common sorrow. At the dinner-table we all met for the last time. My sister Sally, who had hired herself, some weeks before, to do spinning work in a neighbouring family ; and Betsey, who had never lived at home since the fifth year of her age ; and my brother Simeon, who was apprenticed to a wheelwright, living ten miles from us, came to take their farewell of me, and spend the day at home. Behold us, then, assembled to partake of " Lynn's dinner," as my good mother called it. But, gentle reader, indulge not your fancy in painting a scene of convivial joy — the flow- ing bowl, the merry quip, and the ready jest. Nothing could be more unlike a feast in its accepted definition. My father sat on one side of me, my mother on the other, so that I suffered the misery of having two prodigal pro- viders to my plate. If I had eaten all the victuals they heaped upon it, it would literally have been " Lynn's din- ner." My mother ate nothing, keeping her eyes, which were suffused with tears, constantly bent upon me ; my father gave better countenance to the cheer ; but all were silent. My little brother Michael ^id indeed attempt "X HAVERHILL. 131 once to break the gloom, so little in unison with his years and disposition, by asking some provoking question of my brother-in-lav»^, Dexter ; but my mother repressed the attempt to excite mirth with as much indignation as she would have done blasphemy, or a profanation of the Sab- bath. In the evening we were all assembled around the pa- rental hearth, and these are faithful reminiscences of the period. Michael, who was, as I have said, a very small boy, and the " Benjamin" of the family, sat upon my knee, and Sally, whose extraordinary sweetness of temper,afrectionatc disposition, and innocent vivacity, a little aided by her great beauty, for who can resist the dominion of that " witching spell ?" upon a settle at my side, with one of her arms passed around my waist, and her head reclined upon my bosom. Jane, my married sister, sat in Jront of me, with one of my hands clasped in hers, while with the other she, from time to time, parted the hair upon my forehead, as often giving it a tender yet mournful kiss. Boatswain, the old house dog, and for ten years my friend and playmate, whose floggings for the hats and clothes he had torn for me had been without number, all of which he had kindly forgottf.n, as aftbetionate as the best of them, contrived, as often as he could find an opportunity, to thrust his nose into my hand, notwithstanding the threats and remonstrances of Sally and Michael, who would have me all to themselves. My father had his usual corner in our huge fireplace, singing incessantly, without time or melody, as was his wont when sorely vexed and peculiarly unhappy. He had but a very few songs for such an occasion. Now and then you could catch a line of the stanza, sufficiently loud and clear to inform you that he was singing, or attempting to sing, a melancholy old song, which was a great favour- ite, especially with the lower classes, fifty years ago, but which is now heard from the lips only of the resolute worshippers of former days, customs, and writers. I am not quite sure that I give the words correctly, for I have not been able to find a copy, and quote from my memory. « i J 132 MWERniLL. ^^^^k'iM ^ ^HRb # # # * # Merchants arc robbed of treasure, }\y tempesfH and dcBpnir I But what is the loiH of treasure To tlJo losing of my dear ? # # « « « O'er the dark waves a stooping, His iloating corpse sha spied, Then, like a lily drooping. She bowed her head, and died. " Oh, don't sing that song, Simon," said my mother, " pray don't einj^ that song, I liavo never heard you sing that melancholy ditty since the time that fiitlier wns thought to have foundered in the schooner Loving Couple, upon the banks of Newfoundland. It always makes me shed tears to hear you sing that song, because I know you are very unhappy then," and she burst into tears. " Don't you cry, Jenny, don't you cry now," said my father, with great tenderness. "Why, I'll promise, old woman, never to raise my voice in a musical way again, not even to sing 'Old Betty Baker,' or 'Moll, put the kettle on,' if you'll only whist up. But you are grown a chicken-hearted thing to cry because I — am merry, and sing a few snatches of an old song, just to pass away the time. Come, come, own now, my poor old woman, that you only wanted an excuse for your tears. Confess now, Jenny, that you thank me, in your heart, for giving you a chance to open the * floodgates of the soul,' as the parson said last Sabbath." " I suppose you arc right, Simon." " Well, I thought I was." " I feel as if my heart would break," said she, speaking ■with difficulty through her sobs, " when I think we are going to lose our darling, our good and handsome Lynn, To-morrow! oh, he is going to-morrow — that is very soon." " Why, he will not be gone more than three months, if he goes to Jamaica," said my father, anxious to console her. " Don't name that dreadful place again, if you wish me to keep my senses," said my mother. "Don't you ^ nAVERIIILL. 133 remember what — Jack (she usually made a pause when about to name liim as an authority) wliat Jack told us about a liurricanc he experienced there once, which blew the rinc-bolts clean out of the deck, and lifted a crowbar as if it had been a feather. If my son goes to Jamaica, I shall never sec him any more." As she paused to let her tears flow freely, old Captain Brimblecome, with whom I was to take passage for Boston, entered to say that in consequence of his carrying away his bowsprit as he was beating around the Dog- fisher's bank, he should defer going until the !28th. *• At ten o'clock in the morning of that day, Lynn, you must be on board," said he. " And now, aunt (my mother was universally called so in the hamlet), I hope you will give me a drop o' gin for my good news." The gin was given him, and he went off as usual in " a great hurry." What a surprising change the news wrought in our family ! ]My mother's pocket handkerchief was out in a moment, the drops of sorrow were wiped from her cheeks, and her beautiful black eyes shone with the lustre of the diamond. My father exchanged his melancholy song for '« Old King Cole was a jolly old soul," and according to his custom when any thing very pleasant had .happened, called for his pipe, and bade Sally make him a " mug of flip." My brothers an.l sisters, even to " Jenny and her son-il nag," as the malicious Michael usually called the pair, were out upon the floor in a lively jig ; there was 3ven talk of sending for the negro fiddler. The eld dog, according to his invariable custom when there was a great uproar in the house, fell to whining and frisking — making circles round the room with his tail between his legs, jumping into the vacant chairs, and alternately seizing and dropping every thing that came in his way. By-the-by, they never do these things unless they are very joyful. The wand of Circe did not sooner transform the com- panions of the wise King of Ithaca into swine than the half- a-dozen words of the old skipper did our peevish and melancholy family into one remarkably happy aiid joyful. A person who had never witnessed the joy of a condemned criminal who has just received a pardon might have Vol. I.— 12 iJ .^ 134 HAVERFILL. ;v gained a very tolerable idea of it from d glanco at the re- touched countenances of our family. At the same moment in came Jack Reeve, as usual, " brimful of the Devil," singing — In came uncle and aunt, In came cousin Ketury, In came liddler Nat, And play'd away like a fury. This was Jack's usual song vi^hen he had a little too much liquor on board, which proved to be the case now. He was, however, not any too tipsy to assist in and pro- mote the merriment which was going on, though he was a little too much "by the head" for the comfort of my mother, whom he teased to dance till she was compelled to "sail up and down" (a favourite measure in New- England) a few times with him in order to be rid of his troublesome importunity. It was Jack, however, and no offence was taken. " Oh, by-the-by, Simon Magus," said Jack — drunk or sober he never called my father by any other name, — " I have a message for you from Jemmy Cleveland." " And what is it ?" asked my father. " He ca'n't go in the boat to-morrow." " Ca'n't go in the boat, the lazy dog ! the worse than hound ! and the moment tiie keel strikes the sand he'll be begging for fish — but not one shall he have, no, not even a head, not even a skate or a dog-fish — do you hear Tim, Jem, John — " " His second child is very sick," interrupted Jack. " 'Od bless me ! what's the clock — too late to go and see him to-night. Do you hear Tim, Jem, John, give him a capital fish the moment the keel strikes the sand. Poor creatures ! And so the boat lacks a hand. What say you, my son, to a trip in the boat to-morrow ?" " I will go, my father," said I. "Oh no, don't send him," said my mother; "he has only eight days more to stay, let him pass them with us." My sisters and Michael also begged hard, but I would not be overborne on this point. I answered my mother with a kiss, and Jenny with an affected show of resentment, Wi nAVERIIILIi. 135 squeezed Sally's hand till I brought tears to her eyes, and cuffed the ears of little Michael,— far more however to his gratification than his injury. Seeing me resolved to go they said no more. Conversation vs^as then resumed upon the usual topics; and Jack "gave us a few yarns for us to 'lay up' when he should be able to spin no more." Soon the hour arrived at which it was usual for our family to ejaculate their lowly petitions and retire to their humble pallets. This was half-past nine the year round. At a quarter past that hour my father invariably said— to me, if I were present,—" read a chapter of the blessed book, my son ;" if I were absent, Sally, the next best reader in our family, was called upon to perform the sacred duty. When the chapter was finished, we sat sileni for three or four minutes, and then my father— whose posture for offering up the prayers, which were never either forgotten or neglected, was somewhat singu- lar,— kneeling at my mother's feet with his forehead rest- ing upon her hands, addressed the throne of grace for about five minutes. A shake of the hand and a kiss upon the forehead always preceded our retirement for the night ; upon this, the last evening we ever spent together, the kisses were without stint. It is the practice of those who follow the fishery of cod upon the coast of New-England to rise at a very early hour in the morning,— that is, with that portion of them who have a long way to row before they reach the fishing- ground. Upon most parts of the coast at the points where the employment obtains, the ledges and banks where the greatest quantity of fish is taken lie from six to ten miles from the shore. When this distance is to be gained by rowing— as the boalmen express it— in " the teeth of an on-shore wind," the boats usually leave the starting-place two hours at least before daybreak. Add to this an hour employed in remarking upon the weather and casting up the signs of the sky, in eating a hasty and ill-prepared breakfast, and in launching and ballasting the boat, and you have the hour at which the fisherman is sent forth from his warm bed to his coarse, toilsome, and ill- requited employment. It is a hard hfe— much harder than any other dependent upon or connected with the i y^ 13i i'r '4 HAVERHILL. ocean,— a life without gain or glory, a life of great fatigue and considerable peril, a life which has never made a man rich, and seldom left him honest. My father's cabin stood upon the very verge of the ocean, just behind a little hillock of sand, covered with low stunted oaks and dwarf plumbushes, which served in some measure to protect it from the southerly gales, the fogs, and the spray which the breakers, in the time of high out' wmds, threw against it. Though the situation was not so •trongly marked as some others by the rugged " features" of bold rocks and steep cliffs, though there Vere wanting the mighty frontlets towering into mid-heaven, and the enor- mous masses, pile upon pile, of granite, w^hich distinguish the seacoast of many other countries, it was, nevertheless, at times, very rough and dismal, and upon the occasion of strong winds and equinoctial hurricanes, exhibited scenes of great and awful sublimity. At a distance varying from two to six miles from the strand, were a number of shoals and ledges, over which swept the winds and rolled the waves of a limitless ocean. It was frightful to look at these ledges after a violent and long-continued south or south-east wind. Many and horribly tragical were the maritime disasters which had taken place within my young recollection upon these same ledges. I had stood upon the chff, within twenty rods of my father's cabin, and seen, without being able to extend succour, the gallant ship Merrimack, laden with the choicest merchandise of the East, strike upon a ledge of rocks at seven in the morning, and at two in the afternoon not a plank of her remain, nor a single being in existence of those who navigated her thither. I had assisted to take from a stranded bark, in the shrouds and stays of which they had lashed themselves, seven men frozen to death in a winter storm. I could fill a volume with the tragical occurrences I witnessed while a resident upon the Atlantic coast. Few of the visiters of New-England have been much in love with the scenery of her marine border. Presenting, for the greater part of a distance of five hundred miles, an almost continuous chain of rocks and ledges, with here and there a bleak sandy beach, or a wooded waste or " barren," or a sluggish and stagnant lalx, there are few r-5'*-^ nAYBBHILIi. 137 r great fatigue f made a man verge of the Bred with low erved in some lies, the fogs, 3 of high out- )n was not so ad " features" ivere wanting and the enor- ch distinguish nevertheless, the occasion libited scenes varying from iber of shoals id rolled the il to look at led south or lal were the lin my young i stood upon s cabin, and e gallant ship ndise of the the morning, r remain, nor avigated her ided bark, in 1 themselves, I could fill essed while a een much in Presenting, red miles, an s, with here id waste or ere are few situations on her shores which have led to a breach of the commandment which forbids our coveting our neigh- hour's possessions. If one finds pleasure in surveying the ocean when it is agitated by high winds, and curling frightfully over the ledges, and dashing against the rocky bluffs, he may find, or rather cannot choose but find, situa- tions very much to his liking. But he who loves to see external nature at rest, and worships the placid and beaur tiful rather than the sublime and terrible, and enjoys no pleasure, but rather derives pain from witnessing the dis- cords of the elements, and listening to their continual noise, must go at least fifteen miles from the seacoast of New- England. CHAPTER XVIII. Our father called us from our beds the next morning at the usual hour, and went out with us to remark upon the condition of the weather. A calmer and more beautiful morning I never saw at that season of the year, it might well have been taken for a May morning. If it had not been for the remains of a temple of snow (of Michael's erection), which the sun was fast condemning to desecra- tion, one would have been extending his nostrils to inhale the odour of May flowers. It was neither raw nor chilly, as the air of a March morning is apt to be. The light cur- rent of wind which swept up the long deep valley, upon one side of which, or rather upon a knoll jutting into it, our cabin stood, wanted entirely the frosty mist which usually, at that season of the year and period of the morning, fills the lowlands and marshy bottoms. Except in the valley it was perfectly calm, save when you ran or walked fast, when a slight breeze met you, just enough to give you breath for the race, while it pointed a moral, — ^for it re- minded you of the opposition which the rich and powerful encounter in their undertakings from a world only austere and repulsive to the lowlv sinner. Reader ! has it never * 12* 1S8 ■▲TXRHXLL. n * If '.f IP ' :• occurred to you, at these moments, that there was this re- semblance between the " counter-puff" of a slightly rarefied atmosphere, and the opposition of mankind to a master- spirit ! It was one of the first philosophical comparisons I ever drew. I was speaking, before philosophy drew me aside, of the smgular loveliness of the morning which ushered in the most eventful day of my existence. The ocean, which lay spread out before us in all its glory, seemed a vast sheet of glass, an immense mirror, made for the deities of night, ihe moon and the stars, to see their resplendent faces in. There was not a breath of air to break its repose, which was that of a sleeping infant, save upon the very edge of the strand, where a few ripples murmured and fretted a httle, supplymg a continuation to my simile of the infant, to the moment of its waking and moaning for nourishment. To add to the splendour and beauty of the scene, that bright phenomenon of the Arctic skies, the aurora horealh had lit up the northern parts of the heavens with its singu- lar and lurid effulgence. Associating its tinge of redness with the yellow beams of the moon, it produced Open the broad folds of a cloud just sinking away in the southeast a very unusual shade of light. An astrologer, abroad to cast a horoscope, might have made something of it. The boatmen of the hamlet were chiefly on the shore before us. We found them busy preparing tiieir boats. "A charming morning this. Uncle Eb.," said my father, to an old experienced fisherman, by name Ebenczer Gill, who had acquired great reputation in his line of business, and whose opinions regarding the weather were more va- lued than those of any almanac-maker of the time. " The town of ," resumed my father, "will be a hundred piunds richer to-night, Eben GilJ, than it is now." * Why, y— e— s, 'tis as you say, a fine morning, a mighty fine morning. I raally wish it wasn't half so fine." And the observant old man gave a knowing look at the sky and the ocean, and placed himself in the attitude of listening. " Why, surely you don't think it a weather-breeder, do you?" asked my father, while the boatmen generally crowded around us, to hear the opinion of one so fitted to ; I. II BATKRHILL. 139 impart valuable information upon the weather, and usually so chary of doing it. « Y— e— s, I do," replied he, adding, in a half-whisper, as though he was communicating a piece of intelligence which would be unpleasant to some to hear. " 'Tis the twenty-first of March — the sun crosses the line to- morrow." '•Very true," ejaculated several of the boatmen. "There's the lyin (line) gale upon the back of this sweet morning, neighbours." " Why, now, I declare I sees nothing at all of what uncle Eb. is talkmg about," said Peter Pepper, a forwaid and presuming boy. " But then I never wears specs." " That's because you are a boy, and a— fool. Fete, and know no better," answered the angry old boatman. " The ligns of the sea and the signs of the land are all against U8, Pete. The sheep and the out-a-door cattle have beeir feeding, or trying to feed, for it isn't much they can get now, the livelong nighf, and that's a true sign of a storm. And hark ye, Simon, do just listen to the roar of the S9a upon the " Sow and Pigs" and the " Hen and Chickens," (tw» ledges, which bore those several names)— that's a sign I never knew to fail. And didn't you see how Washqua-Hill loomed yesterday ? Jack Reeve did, for he spoke about it to my Debby. However, we may take a score or two of your raal first comers, your forty-two pounders, before it comes on to blow hard. It is a good time for halibut too, and a piece of the fin of that fish is worth a wet jacket and a hard row, at any time." So saying, he applied his shoulder to the stem of his boat, having previously removed the sliores, or props, which prevented it from falling on its side, and laid under its keel a number of round sticks of wood, technically call d " skids," to keep it from the sand, when, with a cry of "now, now she goes," uttered simultaneously, and in concert by all who assisted in launching her— just as the men employed in the capstern, or the windlass of a man- of-war in " setting up stays," " stretching new rigging," or raising the anchor, shout their boisterous '« yo-heave-ho," she was deposited in her proper element. The same course was pursued with all, each assisting the other, until r 1 4 ifi ,'tt m ■ I t. f m hi 140 UAVBRHILL. the whole were launched, ballasted, and prepared for their departure. In ten minutes or less the miniature fleet, about twenty in number, were in " sailing trim, and con- ditioned for 'their twelve hours' voyage. We all rowed out together as far as the 'Inner Ground," where the greater part of the boats anchored, and commenced fishing. The uncommon beauty of the morning, and the reasonable prospect of better sport, together with the disposition we all have to strive for that which is remote and contingent, in preference to that which is near at hand and more certain, tempted the re- mainder, among whom were ourselves, to go out to the " Middle Ground," two miles further. Not finding fish ai plentiful there as we hoped to have done, we, I mean myself and brothers, young, ardent, fearless, and to use an ap. , proved, and on this occasion appropriate phrase, tool. hardy," drew up our " kedge," as a boat-anchor is usually 1 called, and rowed out to the Little Round Shoal, more than four leagues from the shore, and a league beyond the farthest stopping-place of the most venturesome of our companions. No one followed us in this mad enterprre, and many was the hearty laugh we enjoyed at the expense of the " cowardly fellows, who remained tied to their mother's apron strings, within call of their daddies." « Who would have thought, now, that Bill Condar had no more spunk in him ?" said James. « I," answered John, " I always knew he was a great, lubberly, chicken-hearted fellow ever since he let little Oliver Crosby flog him." Not a few were the other jibes which passed, at tno expense of others of our comrades, and many were the « shots let fly" at them, by my lively and fun-loving brothers. As the sun neared the zenith the signs of the approach- ing hurricane or equinoctial storm became more apparent. That glorious orb seemed a ball of fire, and to wade with difliculty through the surcharged atmosphere. Still it was perfectly calm, and for a while smooth as the surface of a lake from vs'hich the winds are fenced by a thick foliage. Gradually there arose small ripples which swelled into biflows, and these broke into sheets of foam, in the ab- sence of any wind, or other apparent cause to vex them. HAYEIlinLL. 141 That cause existed amid the other inexplicable mysteries of nature and the material world, though veiled from the eyes of men, with a thousand other things, which, doubt- less, it is not good nor profitable for them to know. Nor were other signs — such as should not have been neg- lected, wanting of the approach of the tempest. The feathered tribes, whom nature has gifted with a wonderful perception of approaching danger, seemed to be struck with great consternation, and to be preparing for some dreadful convulsion. That shrewd and cjiutious old fellow, the seagull, who had been to the fresh- water ponds for his breakfast of fish, was now, to the great joy of his bitter enemy and rival, the crow, beheld winging his flight to sea, (raining an olRng, as is his wont when instinct informs him of an approachuig hurricane. Others of his tribe, a little more tardy in their movements, but with the same pur- pose in view, were seen performing their spiral evolutions in the mid-heavens, the wild screaming in chorus with the noisy loon which preludes a storm, by a cry nearly re- sembling the baying of a deep-throated hound. Innume- rable flocks of black fowls, such as sea-coots, "isle o' shoals," " old wdves," a species of small duck, so denomi- nated from their incessant scolding and blustering, were gaining, in the language of fowlers, a " windward station," —every thing gave evidence that a tempest would speedily burst upon us. A little after meridian, a breeze sprung up from the north-east — at its commencement a very gentle breeze, scarce sufficient to have endangered the safety of an inex- perienced boy navigating a pleasure-boat with a man-of- war's mizen for his sail. Soon the wind became unsteady —at times tranquil, and then — whew ! a blast would sweep across you which would fairly come within the de- finition of that lesser degree of tempest which your fear- nothing, dare-devil description of sailors call a " capful of wind," This passed, there would ensue a calm, from which a lighted candle need have asked no favour. It was now that okl Mr. Gill, never loath to bestow the benefit of his experience upon others, placed a waft at the head of his little mast to warn us in. A few minutes after he departed for the shore wearing it still, and in addition V' .;!1 U,\ I 142 IIAYERniLL. another half-way up the mast or " half-mast," the well known signal of distress, to signify the danger we were in. But we paid no attention to these signals. We had a good boat, and were all of us excellent rowers, and besides were exceedingly ambitious of the honour of being last to " strike the sand." Then the fish had just " struck in," or become plentiful, and to return with a loaded boat when others had failed, to be able to say wuh a shrug to our companions" I'll g-iye you a fish," would be something to boast of, and pass good-natured jokes about for the next two days. I believe, however, that the greater part of the blame should rest upon myself. My brothers were little better, at any time, than passive instruments of my plea- sure, blind executors of my will. They had been so long in the habit of yielding to me, and of suppressing their wishes till they knew mine, that it is not strange they were silent now. I recollect, however, that I caught their eyes several times anxious,!y turned towards the shore, and once Timothy openly spoke of his wish to go back. But I hushed him with a story of the honour we should gain by outstaying the whole fleet, and returning with a full fare besides. In the mean time the gale kept increasing, but then the fish came "thicker and faster," and "a few minutes more," we said to each other, " can neither make nor break." We had nearly filled our boat with fine fish, old Mr. Gill's " forty-two pounders," and were at the very instant to set out for the shore, when a vessel appeared in the south-east, close-hauled upon the wind, to use the nautical phrase, with her starboard tacks on board, which means that she was sailing with the wind upon her right-hand bow. The wind was about north-east, and she was steering north-west. We soon made her out to be a large ship, with no ports visible, probably a merchantman. We could see that she wore at her mizen-peak the cus- tomary signal for a pilot. I proposed to my brothers that we should row out to her, and as we were acquainted with all the shoals and ledges for twenty miles east, and as many west of our hamlet, that we should offer to conduct her into either of the adjacent harbours of — — and ft HAVinniLt. 143 — . They of course said " yes," as they always did to any thing of my proposing. At the moment when the gale had increased so much that it was with great difficulty that we could propel our boat to windward at all, and we could see that our companions were straining every nerve for the land, we set out to speak the unknown vessel more than a league to leeward of us. We had rowed a mile or more towards her, when all at once we saw her take in the flag, which denoted her wish for a pilot, and shaking the reefs out of her topsails, and slackening her weather-braces and bowlines, keep away, as if determined noi to be spoken. This was not a plea- sant discovery to us, caught more than twelve miles from the shore, night near at hand, and a storm just ready to burst upon us. The intentions of the object which had seduced us into this further peril — may God forgive those who directed her movements ! they have lives to answer for— were soon made more fully apparent. While we lay viewing her, the main top-gallant sail and the courses were loosed and set, her yards were squared, and she was steered away from the land, leaving us, whom her go- vernors must have seen, to the perils and horrors of a stormy night in a boat, the keel of which was only eigh- teen feet in length. And now commenced our hardships. With the greatest exertions we were capable of making, our progress towards the shore was inconsiderable. The wind continued in- creasing, and with it the number and magnitude of my own special trials. My brothers, who never had much fortitude, were disposed to lie down and suffer themselves to be swal- lowed up by the waves without resistance. It required a vigorous exertion of the power I had gained over them to rouse them to the simplest efforts for our preservation. "We must be drowned," said they, " why then should we toil ?" I thought such a catastrophe nearly unavoidable, but a natural disposition to buffet with danger to the last mo- ment, together with a kind of instinctive feeling that I was borw for something better than had yet fallen to my lot, encouraged me to do further battle with the elements, and I succeeded in imparting a small portion of my own resolution to my less sanguine brothers. " Psliaw !" said I i r f ) it 144 nAVlRIIILL. to them ; " what ! givo up at the first appearnncc of dan- ger? why, after all, boys, there is but a capful of wind. John, you have tho Ice after oar, which is much the hardest, and besides you are not so strong as I am, come forward, my boy, and let me take your place. There, that will do, and now we will have a cup of mother's ginger-tea befori i you can say Jack Robinson." We continued to force our boat through the billows and foam, until the doing so nearly cost us our lives. A surge broke over us, and filled our boat half full of water. If we had not previously lightened it of more than half the fish we had taken, it must have sunk on the spot. By the providence of God we were enabled to bale out the water before another surge came. Finding we could make no headway towards the shore, and that the attempt to prope! the boat thitherward waa fraught with great danger, \vc adopted the only remaining alternative — we kept its head to the wind, and used just the degree of exertion that waa requisite to enable us, in the language of the sea, to " hold our own," — that is, keep the boat from drifting any fartlier to leeward. There was no possibility of our reaching the shore till the tempest should be abated of half its violence, and the morning sun and a clearer atmosphere should discover to us the point of coast we had left. Darkness, pitchy darkness, now set in. In the sublime language of the beautiful parable, " the rains beat and the winds blew," not indeed " upon a house built upon the sand," but upon a still frailer dwelling on a far more unstable clement. ] Never was there a more fearful night than this. Sood after dark it began to thunder and lighten, and it continued to do so for six or seven hours. The rain came down in torrents, and the wind whistled and moaned fearfully in the ears of the four poor boys, cast desolate upon a midnight ocean. It was so dark that, save when the lightnings glared, displaying the white and foaming crest of the billows, you could not see your hand at the distance of a foot from your face. Add to this, that wc were compelled to keep baling incessantly, and the reader will have an imperfect idea of the labours and horrors which fell to our share to do and to suffer on that dreadful night. ,i. JT** BAVERniLXt. 145 ifirnnce of dan- apful of wind, ich the hardest, come forward, re, that will do, nger-tea befori the billows and lives. A surge II of water. If lian half the fish spot. By the 3 out the water could make no tempt to propel eat danger, we c kept its head ertion that was ic sea, to " hold ;ing any farther ur reaching the lalf its violence, osphere should ft. In the sublime ns beat and the built upon the on a far more lan this. Soon md it continued I came down in I fearfully in the ipon a midnight ohtnings glared, he billows, you I foot from your 1 to keep baling iperfect idea of share to do and To add to the terrors of the scene, there came booming to us, about ten o'clock, that terrific note of distress, the report of a signal cannon. It -^ma fired, as I afterward learned, by the ship which had assisted to lead us into this dangerous situation, then, in the attempt to make a harbour, stranded r.mong breakers which, before the sun of the next moining rose, swept her and her whole crew, with the exception of a single individual, into eternity. It is very mournfn.l any where, and at any time, to listen to sounds which attest the distress and agony of our fellow-creatures —it is so amidst the dying on the field of battle, or the deck of a ship, as I know from experience, for I have seen both ; but far more terrific and appalling is the sound of a signal cannon, heard at sea in the pauses of amidnignt tempest. I cannot loll you what a shuddering it creates in your whole frame as it comes booming through the «lark- ness. I can have no conception of any thing to ecjual it for solemn and awful majesty. The first clod thrown upon the coffin of an aged man, who has died with the prospect of a happy rising, sends a thrill of awe through the soul ; and the notes of a muffled drum mourning for a patriot warrior, and the tolling of a distant bell at midnight, — fof instance, a convent bell among the mountains of Spain or Italy, — have much sublimity in them ; but they are nothing compared to the sound which travels from the "deep-throated" cannon, to announce the scath and peril of the mariner. I have heard it several times, may I never hear it again. But the Being who presides over the elements, and gives to the life of man its metes and bounds, preserved us through this dreadful night. Towards morning the thunder ceased, though it still continued to blow hard, and the rain to pour down in torrents. The wind had veered — north- wardly we supposed, for the sea was less agitated than it had been, which we attributed to the wind's blowing more directly off the land. Another supposition, and one having about an equal chance for correctness with the former, was, that we had drifted under the lee of some shoal or ledge, which broke the force of the wind, and hence ope- rated to produce a comparatively quiet condition of the waves. Vol. 1.-13 ^1^'^^**..^ _^ i I t 14G HAVERniLL. Wlien daylight came we could discover nothing of tlie land we had left, nor were nny of the shoals or ledges, which were found in every direction for near thirty miles from the shore, visible to us. Not a vessel or craft of any kind was in sight ; with the exception of a few gannets, some sea-fowl plying to windward— ( " Oh," said James, if we only had thrir wings, my brothers, to fly back to o»ir friends,") a flock of birds called by sailors Mother Carey's chickens, and a shoal of unwieldy, but frolicsome porpoises, we were, apparently, alone by ourselves on the ocean. Compass wo had none ; but we supposed ourselves able to judge with tolerable correctness of the bearing of tiic fishing hamlet from the aforesaid supposed shift of wind. and from our knowledge that, on the coast of New- England, the wind veering from north-cast, northerly, gen- erally abides a few hours at some point between north by east and north-west. IJut this knowledge, grounded on experience, availed us nothing. The wind still blew very hard ; and fatigue had so impaired our .strength, and hunger had so weakened us for labour, that we could not have rowed the boat against it, even if it had been abated of half its violence. As it was, I saw it was idle to make any exertion except that of keeping the boat free from water, and using our eyes to see if succour should be approaching in the shape of a " bark of hope." The day passed away in vain expectations that the wind would shift, so as to enable us, by the use of our sail, to return to the land ; or that a vessel would come across us, and take us on board. CHAPTER XIX. The second night we slept by turns, two and two, for the wind gradually went down — in the beautiful and poeti- cal language of the North American Indians, " retired to his resting-place in the caverns, that he might come out refreshed for his race over the green prairies of the earth." In the course of the night the clouds dispersed, and the HAVERHILL. 147 (jlittcring moon, nnd stars, the brightest I ever saw, caino Sut from behind them. TIjc sun of the tliird day rose, bright and glorious, giving pleasure to innumerable myriads of creatures and things, but none to us. Instead of food for hope, or cause for joy, there was a fresh sorrow added to the list of thoKC which were already bowing us to the frravc. It was obvious that our brother, Ji^hn, was fast jinking into the arms of death. He had not been able for some time to endure much hardshiji, and was thought by many to be going into a decline. Our father thou^^ht him unfit to meet the toils of a day of common exertion, and opposed his coming in the morning ; how much more was he incapable of encountering those of two days of tempest and exposure such as we had encountered. Still, it was only in his face that wo beheld death approaching. He made no complaint'?, asked no questions, said nothing about home, or friends, or deliverance, or food, or water, subjects vehich occupied the others continually, but showed a kind of apathetical indiflerence to his fate. By throwing over him such of our clothing as we could spare, we con- trived to keep off some of the wet and cold, and, as far as lodging went, to make him tolerably comfortable. Had we possessed a plentiful supply of food and water, we might, perhaps, have kept him alive for some days longer. But the whole quantity of victuals we had taken with us would scarce have sufficed for the dinner of a mi^n oj ordinary appetite ; and the stock of rain-water we had saved in the boat-bucket was speedily very low :— he was dying of hunger and thirst. About nine o'clock in the evening he called to me low and plaintively. " Lynn !" "I am here, my brother, at your side," I answered. " Are we at home V asked he. " No, John," I answered. " Hist ! yes we are, I am sure. There ! I hear our mother's voice," said he, very faintly. "Oh John, that cannot be," said I ; " why, we are fitty, perhaps a hundred miles from the shore. At any rate we have been among the gulf weed for hours, and that you know is a sure sign that we are very n*iar the Gulf stream. " I can't help that, my brother ; I am sure 1 heard her \ ^B J 1 I^H u II II ^ui mm 148 HAVERHILL. voice. She was singing that beautiful hymn which she loves so much to hear you sing, and which you sing so well ; for your voice, you know, is the only very good one in the family — " Oh, Grave, where is thy victory ! Oh, Death, where is thy sting 1" " It was mere fancy, John," said I, nearly choked with tears. " It was not fancy, Lynn ; 1 heard her as plain as I hear your voice now, my brother. There ! there again ! Oh, my dear mother ! if I could only lay my aching head upon your bosom ! And hist ! there is father's voice too : he is calling to some people a great distance off, and telling them that he shall be with them by-and-by. I know the meaning of it now, my dear brother : I am going to die, and these sounds are the forerunners of my death. Wake James and Timothy." James and Timothy were called, and to them he repeated that he was dying. " Oh, I hope not," said Timothy, encouragingly. " You are very ill, John, and think very much abput home, and that is the reason why you fancy you hear the voices of your friends. Cheer up, John ; take heart, my brother, and we will have many a merry row together yet." " Don't speak that way, Timothy," said the dying boy, "don't speak that way. Other thoughts should now occupy my mind, and I think yours, — thoughts of another world, and of the punishment we have deserved for our sins. Lynn, do you think there is hope for me beyond the grave ? Answer me ; for you are better read in the Bible than I am, and have more learning ; — is there any hope for your poor sinful brother ?" " There is hope, John, for all who repent and sincerely ask forgiveness," answered I. " Your offences have been light offences, my brother, and if any one may hope to be pardoned, surely it is you. You must ask God to for- give you, and it is my belief that if you ask in sincerity he will." " But do you know, my dear brothers, that we have not prayed since thii calamity befel us !" I HAVERIIILL. 149 r choked with to them he that we have " It is indeed true," said James ; " what would mother gay if she knew we had been three days without prayer ? what would our good father say if he knew that we had received such great mercies and forgot to thank the giver of them ? We were not taught this neglect in our father's house.'' «It is not too late to pray yet," said the sutlerer. " And oh I now ! quick 1 pray quick, for I feel that I am going ! Pray for my poor soul, and pray for father and mother, and Sally, and all the rest of them." We knelt down in the boat around him, and I, at the request of my brothers, and according to the best of my ability, offered up the prayers which were required by his lituation and ours. When 1 had finished, he asked us to sinw the beautiful hymn to which he had referred, and which went in our house by the nai^^e of "mother's favourite." " Vital spark of heavenly flame ! Quit, oh, quit this mortal frame l Trembling, hoping, lingering, flying, Oh ! the pain, the blisi of dying ! Cease, fond nature, cease thy strif», And let me languish into life. " Hark ! they whisper ; angels say, ' Sister spirit, come away.' What is this absorbs me quite, Steals my senses, shuts my sight. Drowns my spirit, draws my breath, — Tell me, my soul, can this be death? " The world recedes — it disappears, Heaven opens on my eyes '. my ears With sounds seraphic ring : Lend, lend your wings 1 1 mount ! I fly ! — Oh, Grave ! where is thy victory ? Oh, Death ! where is thy sting ?" While we were singing the two first staneas of this hymn, we heard occasionally a low moan from him ; but during the last he was perfectly silent. When we had finished it, James raised h-m up and asked him " how he felt now ?" — he spoke to a lifeless corpse. We did not commit him to the ocean ; but with the 13* fi \ 150 HAVERHILL. H M' t s hope that we might yet be permitted to inter him on the land, perhaps in the old mossy churchyard at , -we wrapped np his remains m the boat-sail, and laid him down in the bottom of the boat. Nothing now remained for the survivors but to wait pa- tiently the appointed time for our deliverance or death. In the mean time we grew weaker and weaker every hour. Water failed us, food we had none, and worse than all, there was a peevish and fault-finding spirit growing upon us, as if our present calamities were not enough, and we must increase them, by a sundering of the bonds which had hitherto held us in more tlian brotherly love and affection. My brothers upbraided me incessantly with having brought them into this dreadful situation. It was my madness, they said, which had led us into the enterprise which must end in the death of all. For a long time I bore their up- braidings with patience, confessed my fault, and begged them not to blame me ; but wearied out at length by them, and my resolution to avoid discord overborne by hunger and thirst and excess of suffering, I answered sharply and angrily, and even raised my hands to strike poor James. But when the momentary flash of anger had subsided, and the recollection of our hitherto unvarying tender- ness returned to our minds, we all three sat down and wept like children. And it seemed as if the spirit of our departed brother smiled upon us, and that even tho winds were balmier, and waves more tranquil, while we embraced, and kissed each other, and took a solemn oath, that come a greater degree of suffering if it might, or look more hideous the aspect of death if it could, we would frown no more on each other. The fourth day passed, and still no succour. The weather — there is a well-known proverb, " after a storm comes a calm," — was remarkably fair and serene ; I never saw it finer. The ocean lay slumbering like an unweaned child, the breeze merely raising a slight fretwork on its bosom. To add to my other afflictions, it was apparent the reason of my brother James was leaving him. He insisted that there was bread and meat in the boat, which we had liidden from him, and bade us produce it ; and a keg of ir him on the at , we laid him down ut to wait pa- j or death. In T eveiy hour, than all, there iig upon us, as and we must Is which had and affection, laving brought my madness, se which must bore their up- It, and begged 2ngth by them, rne by hunger ed sharply and B poor James, had subsided, irying tender- ee sat down if the spirit of that even the juil, while we a solemn oath, might, or look uld, we would uccour. The " after a storm irene ; I never s an unweaned etwork on its is apparent the 1. He insisted which we had and a keg of HAVERHILL. 151 cool water, which he said we were towing astern, and from which we had repeatedly slacked our own thirst, leaving him to perish of a burning fever in the heart, which we knew water would assuage. We could not reason him out of the strange fancy, lor who can speak with effect to the understanding of a madman ? Then he became fear- fully angry, and tried to wrest from us the fancied treasure. And when he could nowhere find it, " we had eaten up the victuals, and drank the water," he said, " and must forthwith disembowel them." He became at length so dangerous, that to prevent him from doing injury to hirnself or to us, we were compelled to bind him. But while I dozed in a momentary oblivion of suffering, his tears and entreaties, aided by the usual protestations of perfect sanity, so won upon the affectionate heart of my brother Timothy that he unbound liitn. I was waked frcii my fitful slumber by a sound like that of the falling of a heavy body upon the water. It was my maniac brother, who, while his liberator slept, caught in his arms the lifeless body of my brother John, and plunged with it into the ocean. We asked, pleaded with him to re- turn. " No," he said, " he would go on shore, and bury Johnny. He had been dead more than a year, the weather was very warm, he wouldn't keep, and the flies would get in his body. And he would swim on shore, and see how they all did, and kiss mother and Sally, and get some fresh bait, and a supply of water, and biscuit, and come back again." In vain we tried threats, he could not be persuaded to re- linquish the corpse, but continued to cling to it with all his power. Our strength was so impaired that we could not row the boat so fast as he, now gifted with supernatural en- ergies, could swim. He continued shouting, and hurraing with all his strength, admonishing us to keep a good look out, and wait for him where we then were. But his strength was soon exhausted. We saw him grow weaker and weaker, at first in his lungs, and then in his limbs, till at last he went down without a struggle. He sunk when we were not more than the length of the boat from him, and continued himself, to the final gasp, the custodier of the body of our deceased brother. ^m "U T 152 HAVERHILL. b^l W\ There were now only two of us left, and we the weak- est and most miserable of all God's creatures. Our feel- ings now began to rise in rebellion against the Arbiter of our fates, and to complain that he had been partial to our brothers, and spared them the greater calamity. ♦« I have frequently heard our ministers talk of election and predes- tination," said Timothy. " Do you think, Lynn, that God has said we shall die for food and water ? Oh, how beau- tiful it would be, my brother, to drink out of the old moss- covered bucket. And hov. sweet would be the crusts which the old dog — ." He could proceed no further, but burst into tears, and mine flowed as freely as his. With the hope rendered yet more ardent by the conversa- tion I have repeated that I might wake in some world where there would be plenty of food and water, I lay down to sleep in the bottom of the boat, leaving Timothy stretched out upon the " thwarts," watching for the hoped-for sail. Then, for the first time since leaving home, I was visited by the apparitions of memory. I saw, as plain as I saw them on the day before my departure, my dear father, with his locks just turning to silver, and the sweet face of my kind mother, the former seated with a spy-glass on his wonted observatory, the sand-hill, the latter employed in cooking tho evening repast of the family. There was the old larch, and beneath it, lovely as an angel, and mild as — herself, my beloved and lovely Mary. There was Sally playing with her pet lamb, and Michael flying his kite. Then there came a more general view of the scenes of home. I saw the fishing hamlet, and behind it the lofty forests of oak and pine, my father's cabin, and the long deep valley, just beginning to wear the green livery of spring. And, oh ! unutterable bliss ! there was the clear, cold brook in the middle of it, gurgling, and bubbling, and dancing along through its fringe of alders and grape-vines, noisy as a healthful child of ten, released from a prolonged attendance on the village schoolmaster. Its water was a treat at any time, how much more now when I was dy- ing of thirst. And it wag fretting noisily away over its bed of pebbles, as if it too had cause of grief. And Mary ! dear Mary ! there were the stile, and the bridge, ^r HAVERHILL. 153 and the ant-hill, and she was again the patient teacher, and I the attentive and happy school-boy. But the most blissful dream, even the dream of life, the dream of ambition, and that yet dearer dream, the dream of love, must have an end, and so had mine. When I awoke, the sun was just setting, his beams shading the white folds of th^ western sky with a veil of purple and gold. When I had shaken off the stupor which attends the wak- inff from a sickly sleep, and had recovered the use of my dimmed and dizzied faculties, I found myself alone. It was some minutes before I could convince myself of the fact. I know not— never shall know what became of my brother Timothy. He was of a rugged constitution, and had sup- ported the miseries, and borne up against the horrors of our situation much better than the other brothers, always appearing patient and collected, never giving way to use- less regrets, nor indulging in gloomy anticipations. Ihe only reasonable guess to be made at his late, short of ac- countinfr for his disappearance upon the doctrine of direct supernalural interference, is, that he became suddenly insane, like James, and, Uke him, perished by his own deed in the ocean. t i. j iv*i I felt my strength decaying so fast that I had little ex- pectation of living through the night. It came a beautiful evening, the stars shone out clear and twinkling, the moon rose bright and round, and there was a gentle breeze to aladden the heart of him who might be traversing that fatitude of ocean to the arms of "wife, children, and friends." About midnight, as I judged from the height ot the moon, I heard a voice, which seemed that of a sailor answering to the call of a superior, and soon after, a sound like the music of a violin stealing across the lonely waste of waters. I even fancied I could distinguish the notes of " Hearts of Oak," the tune which has preluded so many fflorious triumphs of the British marine. At first I thought ft all sheer illusion, the mere reelings of a brain about to be forsaken of its reason, seeing strange sights and hearing strange noises, as my brotlier James had done at the com- ing on of his insanity. Gradually the music approached, and the voices grew articulate. I could hear the shrill call of the boatswain's mate, and the commands of the 154 HAVERHILL. I ^ni IH ^^^^^^K M 'm - w^^^^l ^^^^^^HS ^ ^bII in lU « ■HM ffiH ^^hh ^^ ^^H mi master, " lower away !" " A small pull more on the star- board fore-topsail brace !" " There ! that's well ! belay that !" and the gruff " ay, ay, sir !" of the tar. I raised myself with difficulty, for I was every moment growing weaker, and there — close by — within ten rods of me— oh, glorious sight ! — oh, supreme felicity ! — was a tall ship, moving majestically past, her white sails shining in the silver moonlight, — three tiers of guns, — yards, tops, and shrouds black with men, — a creature she seemed of beauty and glory. Suffering had dimmed my eyes very much, but I could plainly see that she was a very large man-of- war, with all her sails, even to the smallest, crowded upon her. She was not at the time more than ten rods from me. 1 hallooed with all my strength, and shouted " help ! help !" at the top of a pair of lungs which used to have high praise bestowed upon them for their efficiency in that kind of exercise, but were now graduated to a much i )wer key. Having ceased shouting for the purpose of listening, I heard from a man in the main-chains, the exclamation— "A man overboard !" " There is," replied a hoarse harsh voice ; " and what business had he there, I wan't to know ?" "Can't exactly tell, sir; fun, maybe; but here's Dick says 'tis the Yankee greenhorn, from No. 5, gone to look for one of his granny's apple-dumplings. Shall we lower away the boat, or let the sharks have him ? How- somever, sir, they never will eat him ; too cunning a fellow is Mr. Shark for that." The boat was lowered, and before three minutes had passed, I and my " three-decker," as the tars called my boat, were taken alongside. " Shall I hide the handspikes, and the marline-spikes, and the crow, and the spare scrapers ?" asked a voice which I knew to be that of the sailor addressed as " Jo." " Why, Jo?" asked the gruff voice. " Because, sir, I take him to be a very hungry man, and a little flared into the bargain. His first push, barring water, will be for something to cat V " True, Jo ; but he must be kc;jl short at first. Ay, Jo, davehiiill. 155 he must be put upon very short allowance for the first week* " Make it up, sir, by the rule which governB the ship's steward, and I'll be bound to say he never comes to harm." " What do you say ?" " Do that, and he will never come to harm by reason of (3ver-eating." " How is that, Jo V " Come to the mess, sir, when the bell rings grub, and you'll see, sir." Jo was one of those happy beings who are favourites, and may say any thing. The 'due orders were taken for my being fed sparingly on light food, and put to bed and undisturbed rest. Be- hold me, then, roscued from the grave, which had swal- lowed up my three poor hapless brothers. 4 m m 4 ) ; " and what CHAPTER XX. A NIGHT of peaceful and undisturbed sleep did much to restore my strength and energy. Soon after I woke, which was late in the morning, the doctor's assistant came with some food adapted to my present condition — buttered bis- cuits, a roasted apple, &c. Shall I ever again know grati- tude so strong and lively as that which I felt to him who brought me these delightful presents ? My recollection of past events was then, and for some days after, rather indistinct and confused. Besides, I was too much engrossed by the delicacies he had brought me to waste any time in questions upon the " whys and where- abouts" of my present situation. Every thing else faded from my mind till these had vanished from before my eyes. A few minutes enabled me to recover my memory suffi- ciently to fix my " locality" on board a man-of-war. I recollected sundry scenes which occurred on the pre- ceding evening ; and, besides, there was present demon- stration of the fact, in the heavy piece of ordnance a few 156 HAVERHILL. feet from me, to say nothing of the noises which assailed my ears. The martial character of the vessel was further proclaimed by the muskets, cutlasses, and boarding-pikes which lined the sides of the cabin, and the heaps of lan- grage, chain-shot, and grape-shot piled up in its corners. About one o'clock 1 received a message from the com- mander of the ship, requiring my attendance in the cabin. I should have remarked that, previous to this, the barber had been sent me, as well as clean linen, and a decent change of apparel. The man of suds had but just made me " presentable," when a tall and elegant young man, wearing a military dress, came in, and announced himself as " Colonel Matthewman, aid to the commander-in- chief," — of what, I had yet to learn. He requested to hear my story, which I told him briefly. He then said he was directed, when four bells in the afternoon watch should have rung,* to bring me before two important personages, the admiral commanding the fleet, and the general-in- chief of the land forces. " I thought it but kind and friendly," said he, " to antici- pate a part of their information, and tell you into whose hands you have fallen, and into whose presence you are about to be ushered. The ship which came so opportunely to your relief, and on board of which you now are, is the Neptune, of ninety guns ; and a bird of paradise she is. She bears the flag of Sir Charles Saunders, vice-admiral of the blue, and forms one of a fleet which, God willing, shall beat the monsieurs till they are tired of living. Only think of the sport ! Twenty one suit of the line, besides frigates, sloops, bomb-ketches, fire-ships, troop-ships, horse- ships, ordnance-ships, forage-ships, and every other kind of ship, well appointed, well provisioned, well manned, well armed, and with the best inclination in the world to do their best — a more goodly array you never saw." " And what is the object of this mighty armament ?" I asked. " The object of this mighty armament is this. First, we rendezvous at Louisburg ; then, we ascend the river St. Lawrence, and level with the earth those troublesome com- * Two o'clock in tho afternoon. .11 HATERHILL. 157 positions of stone and mortar, the walls of Quebec. Then we shall proceed to practise upon the nunneries, to whose fair inmates we shall offer love and liberty. Having played the de'il with every thing French on the North American continent, we — that is, those of us who escape with whole skins from the escalade of the far-famed Heights of Abra- ham, shall return to our dear England, and be gazetted as 'the immortal men whose courage and daring have achieved the conquest of tiie French possessions in North America.' Then we shall go to the levee, and kiss the king's hand ; return home, and kiss — the ladies' lips ; think, how delightful ! and wear all sorts of favours, from the blue riband of knighthood and chivalry to the blue riband of love and gallantry." " Hopes that make the heart flutter," said I : " would that any of thsm were within my reach !" "Now — but 1 wo'n't swear, if I am 'swearing Jack Matthewman.' You are either quizzing me, or, you are a —blockhead. Little chance ! why, what bars your becoming lord high admiral, field-marshal — anything but king or one of the royal dukes, save lack of courage and lack of conduct ?" " I know nobody ; nobody knows me. I am nothing, yoa know, but a poor castaway — a shipwrecked sailor, without money or friends." " Not so : and now for a little flattery. You have a face which, put a little of my — fine complexion upon it, the red and white which belongs to 'handsome Jack,' would be called a very decent one ; and you have far more of the air of a courtier than of a fisherman. The ver/ circumstance of your shipwreck, and wonderful preserva- tion, have already operated so much in your favour, that the deck is crowded in anticipation of your showing your- self. Twenty letters of recommendation would not avail in your behalf like tlie circumstances from which you augur ill." " I cannot gather courage to think so," said I. " You have a strong inclination, I see, to get up a tragedy. But I beg your pardon, my dear sir, for my levity. \''ou have lately witnessed a most affecting scene : you have seen three brothers perish bofore your eyes ; and here am Vol. 1.-14 1,1 I 158 HAVERHILL. I, talking to you as if you were as little acquainted with trouble as Jack Matthcwman, who had never heard of the worJ ^'. J 1 ow but for his Irisli servant Thaddy ; and who, tiianUs to iha kind old uncle, was never short of money in his life. 1 am known by all the army as ' Merry Jack,' or * Swearing Jack ;' sometimes, spare my blushes, simply as 'Handsoine Jack,'— was never serious in my life till now, and never before spoke tiie same number of words without an oath." " Do not p' t any constraint on your feelings, on my ac- count, sir," said I. " Be as merry as you please, though 1 see no occasion for profanity : but tell me if you think that my offer to serve in the army will be accepted ; and that, if accepted, I shall be in the way of promotion, if I de- serve it." •♦ What will you risk?" " Blood, as if it were water— life, as freely as I would a farthing at a game of draughts." " Then you arc sure to rise — or fall. Now, me, I like you (his eye became lucid with depth of feeling) ; and I'll be your friend. It shall be my special care to see that you have a place in the hottest Oi every battle : you shall be in every forlorn hope ; it shall even go hard but you shall lead one- a second, perhaps, if you survive the first. I will name you to the general properly. By-the- by, join the army, d--cusc,— see the small difference be- tween a damn and a dcuse,— take the navy ; between friends, 'tis the land-fight that makes the hero. As I said, you shall be properly named to the general ; and if you conduct yourself well, depend upon my word that, between us and among us, we'll yet make a Boanerges— a true son of thunder of you. Hark ! the four bells : no, but they will ring within five minutes. We will first take a look at the feet, and then make our bow. I will not give you any directions fi)r your behaviour when you shall have been ushered into the presence of the magnates ; for I am sure, from your speech, which seems that of a well-edu- cated lad, and your bearing, which smacks— 1 shall cer- tainly spoil you— of a natural propriety of demeanour and carriage, that you will acquit yourself like a man. Be firm, yet modest— tell a simple straight-forward story ; make quainted with r heard of the ly ; and who, of money in erry Jack/ or hes, simply as y hfc till now, words without igs, on my ac- cuse, though 1 you think that ed ; and that, )tion, if I de- 2]y as I would low, me, ,h of feeling) ; ;ial care to see 'y battle : you n go hard but ou survive the erly. By-the- difference he- avy ; between ro. As I said, al ; and if you i that, between ros — a true son 1 : no, but they 'St take a look ill not give you you shall have lates ; for I am of a well-edu- s — 1 shall cer- demcanour and man. Be firm, d story ; make nAVEnini.L. 159 respectful, yet collected answers to the questiofis which will be put you ; above all, say nothing about a shark's swallowing a thirty-two pound carronado ; for it was de- huted yesterday at the dinner-table, and notwithstanding all my arguments and j.rotestations, which go a great way where veracity is concerned, that my own eyes saw it ; the general says he don't believe a syllabic of it. Don't utter one wicked word, for the general is a pious man — not a Methutlist, but rather ^'•ooi//.s7/. If you do thus, you will be favourably received ; for, when did conduct like, this ever fiiil to secure friends 1" We now ascended to the upper deck. What he had anticipatof! proved literally true, for the jiassagcs were thronged with men of all grades and habit-, anxious to obtain a glance of the " castaway." Jumping upon a gun, my conductor bade me do the like, and take a look at the armament prepared for the over- throw of the Frenchmen. " These noble ships, so conspi- cuous by their teeth," said he, " arc to whip the 'tarnation fellows, as they say in your country, if we catch them on the water. Those heavy-moulded, Swift-Peter things, the transports, contain five thousand as fip j fellows as ever bivouacked on a won field, or sln^t in the arms of death upon a lost one, and these last aic to engage in an enter- prise wherein we shall be happy (making a half quizzical bow) to have your assistance." "And you shall have it, heart and hand," I replied, my bosom burning with enthusiasm, awakened by the glorious armament of war which met my eyes whithersoever I turned them. " My only fear was, that my services would not be accepted." It was indeed a splendid sight to look upon this vast fleet spread over the ocean as far as the eye could reach. The morning was very fine, with a light breeze at south-west, just enor \\ to give the ships headway, and to authorize the use ol those little sails, such as studdingsails, staysails, skysails, &c. which give so much effect to a marine land- scape, and are to a ship what bonnets, ribands, scarfs, and diamonds are to a beautiful woman. There were, alto- gether, more than a hundred all sailing upon one course, an^.fvith numerous flags and streamers fluttering in the ^1 ^1 '^M|ft)TI)g"" % 160 nAVERlIILL. breeze. It would seem, at first thouglit, as if there could not be much variety in such a scene— a fleet of ships is a fleet of ships ; but I beg to assure the reader that there was an infinite " diversity of character," a strikirfg dissimi- larity of appearance in the vessels of which this pailant armada was composed. In the first place, it must be re- membered that Great Britain had been engaged in fre- quent wars with France, Spain, and Holland, and that the consequence of her frequent naval encounters with these powers, over whom she was always victorious, had been to introduce into her marine many a specimen of the archi- tecture of each. Here you saw the heavy, sleepy, dull- sailing, low-masted, and short-sparred Dutchman, built perhaps in the very dock-yard where Peter the Great learned to handle the adze, and modelled after the wives of the Dutch skippers, short, pursy, and full in the bow, heavily timbered, and strongly put together. This was compelled to pack on all sail to keep up with the long-masted, long- sparred, " all-a-tanto" bark of French construction, which, under its courses and topsails, mizen and flying-jib, swept along by Mynheer with the ease and grace of a Parisian dancmg girl performing a rigadoon, or, to use a figure of my gay friend the colonel, like a French racer going past a Flemish cart-horse. A little way further, you recognized the " Don," whose motions in the water were neither like the plunge of the Dutchman nor the " curvet" of the Gaul, — to your eye, it seemed that the dignity and stateliness of its former possessors had remained with the ship at the change of masters. Next, and of this description was the bulk of the fleet, came— apt emblem of the builder— plain, substantial, " salted," docked, and seasoned John Bull, kind in a squall, and easily managed by one that knew how to trim him ; tough as a pine-knot, " hooks" and " riders," ribs and transoms, hard as lignum-vita? ; put together with great strength, and for great durability ; no " clipper," but en- dowed with capacity to stand tempests and hard knocks, which would have utterly annihilated the lively but fragile Gaul. The specimens of the marine architecture of the colonies were in the rear of the fleet, in the shape of some ships, barques, brigs, and schooners, of the true Casco Bay and Saco model and rig: built, probably, six together, HiiVEIiniLL. 161 gawcd apart, their ciuls honrded up, and then the nonde- scripts cunnnitted to the ocean, relying principally upon a |)rayer to merciful heaven to enable them to reach the des'tincd port. Nor was the diversity alone to bo seen in the built. A thousand other circumstances gave variety to the scene, and individuality to the ships which went to form it. This one had yellow streaks and mouldings, that white or red, or bright varnish. The sails of one were of now canvass, of course they were dark, those of its next neighbour were bleached by exposure till they were white as snow. In some there 'was as much "light and shade" ns there is in one of Titian's pictures, occasioned by mending rents in the old sail with new canvass. The topsails of this siiip hung in the buntlines and clewlines, or her courses were hauled up, while the next had every inch of canvass packed on her. Th: yards and shrouds of one were black with men aloft on the usual duties, while only a solitary individual would seem to be stirring on board another. It was, indeed, a diversified as well as abcautiful scene. Prob- ably I shall never in this world behold again any thing so imposing and magnificent. Around us the play of the fislies was going on with unu- sua! liveliness. An immense school of porpoises were cut- ting their capers among the ships, and a school of whales, of the species called finbacks, were playing shy at a small distance to windward. Half a dozen shovel-nosed sharks, or "lawyers," were following our own ship, and snapping up the various eatables thrown them as eagerly as a bar- rister runs up the items in a bill of costs. "Is it not beautiful !" asked the colonel ; " and may not the enthusiasm of a tar be pardoned ? Sometimes— in pleasant weather, I say to myself, ' Jack Matthewman, you are a great fool ; you have chosen by far the less pleasant branch of the throat-cutting trade.' But when a squall comes up, and the rigging parts, and the sails fly out of the bolt-rope, and the water rushes in at the lee gunv/alc, and crack goes a spar, and the captain rages, and the master rages, and Jack rages, and the wind out-rages them all, I forget my temporary enthusiasm, and say, ' Colonel Matthewman, stick to the land service, my boy, and be after letting the 11* n I( \,l a \y^ 162 HAVERHILL. wicked ships alone.' I can see, by your eye, that you are smitten with the charms of my mistress." " 1 am better acquainted with the hardships attending exposure at sea, and, probably, that is the reason why my mind is made up to be a soldier." "Undoubtedly we fear less the miseries which have come to us by hearsay than those with whose bitterness we are practically acquainted. If a burglar who has been hung were to be reanimated, and ordered for execution again, he would, probably, choose to be drowned or be- headed ; sure I am that he would eschew the gallows. You have fared hard upon the water, you prefer the land service. I know nothing of the ocean, save from passages which — with two exceptions— for a short period, have been exceedingly pleasant. My service upon the land has been under the burning suns of India and Africa ; and amid polar snows, I should prefer the ocean. But before we enter the cabin, I must make you acquainted with the first lieutenant of the ship, and a very sociable, pleasant, companionable fellow you will find him — a little too gay and talkative, but nobody minds that !" He made a sign to a young man in " lilywhites," and a round jacket with cloth buttons,— uniforms were then very uncommon in the navy, and when they were worn were entirely without the ease and elegance of the modern naval dress. The person came to us and was introduced, by the gay soldier, as " Commodore Jervis." He has since, 1 hear, become rather distinguished, and fought that fine old ship the Foudroyant in the action which ended in a court-mar- tial upon Keppel, and, worse yet, in a paper war between him and Hugli Palliscr, in very handsome style. He en- joyed, even at this time, the reputation of being ?n excel- lent seaman ; and for this, among other reasons, had been selected by that excellent judge and patron of merit, Admiral, then Captain, Saunders, as early as 1755, to fill the station of first lieutenant on board his own ship the Prince. He had continued with Sir Charles ever since. He was one of the most reserved,haughty,and arrogant men I ever saw, and one of the strictest disciplinarians— so his friends said, but his enemies asserted, one of the most cruel tyrants — that e^^er set foot on the deck of a ship. As he HAVERHILL. 163 I, that you are lips attending lason why my s which have ! bitterness we ivho has been for execution rowned or be- V the gallows, (refer the land from passages t period, have 3n the land has d Africa ; and I. But before linted with the iable, pleasant, little too gay whites," and a A-ere then very ire worn were 3 modern naval oduced, bv the js since, 1 hear, It fine old ship in a court-mar- r war between style. He en- being en excel- isons, had been tron of merit, as 1755, to fill 1 own ship the rles ever since, id arrogant men inarians — so his f the most cruel a ship. As he was acting in a subordinate station to one of the kindest and most compassionate men that ever existed, I had no opportunity during the short time I was in his company to remark which party had formed the truer estimate of his character, his friends or his foes. But, though stern and arrogant, his manners were good, and denoted high aris- tocratic birth as well as high notions of honour. « And what do you think of him V demanded the gay and sprightly soldier, as he spoke seizing a button, and, by twitches, turning him in various positions as one shows a horse to a would-be purchaser. " There he is, and now what do you think of him 1 Twenty-five years old was he sometime in the month of Janus last— prithee tell me the day, John ?" . . , , « I am sorry. Colonel Matthewman," said the young sailor, with imperturbable gravity, "that you cannot find another and fitter person upon whom to break the lance of your wit." « How can I possibly find a better subject to cut up than an oyster ?" " An oyster ! what do you mean ?" « An oyster is remarkable for its gravity— 'grave as an oyster,' saith the proverb— John Jervis is wonderfully grave, therefore he is an oyster— by no means a bad syllo- gism. Look at him, Haverhill ! ' The king is angry, see, he gnaws his lip.' " « Really, Colonel Matthewman,your bantering takes too wide a range." " Note down, Haverhill, in your pocketbook, as an oc- currence to be boasted of as long as you live, that at such an hour, upon such a day, in the latitude of , and the longitude of , canny Fortune conducted you to the ac- quaintance of the pleasant and sociable John Jervis, son of Swynfen Jervis, a worthy old StaflTordshire barrister. Addendum, that the said John was never known to laugh but once, and that was at the strange contortions which the eating of sour grapes, some say green thistles, occa- sioned in the fiice of an ass. Ding dong! ding dong ! by all that is merry, there go the four bells. Good-by to you, pleasant John ! and now, Haverhill, for the cabin."* * There is mtich difficulty in arriving at the true character of Earl St, Vincent. He was, Rt one period of his life, warmly engaged in f. J ■P«#W%i h"'.i < ■ {•' 164 IliVVERHILL. C II AFTER XXI. We now descended the stairs which led to the state cabin. I must confess that, constitutionally bold as 1 was, and my courage screwed upwith previous mental schooling, my knees shook, and I trembled like a leaf at the thought of the interview about to take place. I had no doubt that I was to be ushered into the presence of great men, noble- politics; and tliio, perhaps, led to the unequivocal and protracted display of enmity agaiutit him. His remarkably severe discipline had, preyi- ously, made^'hini many hitter enetnics. His gravity, or rather severity of deportment, kept aloof those who would have been his friends ; and, thus incessantly attacked, but seldom defended, his reputation has come to us veiled in a cloud of obloquy and reproach, which the dis- passionate research of a later day will do much to remove. That he was very haughty and arrogant will never be doubted ; but it will be found, I suspect, that it was a habit growing out of a maxim by no means er'-oncous, that on chipboard, " the less there is of familiarity, the more there will be of respect, and the easier order will be kept." I think that the character of Loid St. Vincent may be summed up in these words,— '-That ho was naturally haughty ^.nd arrogant, but brave, cool, honest, and independent ; fearless in the discharge of what he conceived to be right, and not to be turned aside from the path of duty by the sneers, threats, or courtsliip of faction, or the bribes of those in pcwer." Earl St. Vincent was born at Mcaford, in StafTordshire, January 9, (O. S.) 1734. He entered the navy at the age of ten years : his first service was under Lord llawkc. In 1748 he was rated a midshipman, and during tliat and the following year served in that capacity in the Gloucester, of fifty guns, on the Jamaica station. On the 19th of Feb- ruary, 175.5, he was promoted to the rank of lieutenant ; and at a sub- sequent period, was employed as 1 have supposed him in the text. On the return of the expedition from Canada he was advanced to the rank of commander, and obtained temporary charge of the Experiment, of twenty guns, during the indisposition of her captain, Sir Jolm Strachan. While in this ship lie fought a xebec, under Moorish colours, manned by Frenchmen, with a much heavier armament than his own, and with a crew three times as numcrou:^. After a sliarp action, the enemy was compelled to seek safety by flight. He afterward had the Albany, sloop, which he continued in command of tdl October, 1760, when lie was made post, and had the Gosport. He had otiier commands, of no vreat importance however, between this and 1774, when he was pro* moted to the command of the Foudroyant, of eighty-four guns ; and in that aapacity became, by reason of her being selected by the admi- ral to carry his flag, one tf Keppel's captains. F[e commanded that ship in the memorable engagements between the French and British fleets on the '27th and 28th of July, 1778, and particularly distinguished JU ij ^mm m HAVERHILL. 165 men, perhaps, whom I had been taught to consider as a superior race of mortals. Around a large oblong table, by certain contrivances well known to sailors confined in the centre of the cabin, to prevent its being unseated by the lurches of the ship, sat a number of officers, apparently in deep consultation. Th'j table was covered with books and charts, over which some of them were poring, while others were as busy with a bot- tle of sherry and a plate of biscuits. Four of them be- himseK by his bravery and good conduct. On the trial of his com- mander lie gave evidence in his favour, and characterized his conduct as displaying " the greatest naval skill and ability." No opportunity occurred for him to distinguisli himself further till April, 1782, when, being still in command of the Foudroyant, and forming one of Admiral Harrington's squadron, he captured, after a sharp action, the Pegase, of seventy-four gutis and seven hundred men. He was severely wounded in this action. On the 29th of May follow- ing, he was invested with the order of the Bath. In the succeeding November he attended Lord Howe in his successful attempt to relieve Gibraltar. On the return of tlie fleet he was advanced to the rank of commodore, and hoisted his broad pennant on board the Salisbury, of fifty guns. A cessation of hostilities soon after prevented his being employed on tlie secret service to which, it ia said, he was destined at the time of his appointment. „ „• m, -n ^ i In June, 1783, he married the daughter of Sir Thomas Parker, by whom he had no issue. At the general election in 1784, he was chosen member of Parliament for Yarmouth, and became rather conspicuous for his opposition to the ministry. On the 24th of September, 1787, he was advanced to the rank of rear-admiral of the blue ; and on the 21st of September, 1790, to the same rank in the white squadron. In the May of the latter year he was chosen member lor Chippmg In February, 1794, he commanded, in conjunction with Sir Charles Gray, the squadron destined to act against the French possesions ui the West Indies. This has been regarded as an unfortunate attair lor the fame of the earl, being the only instance in which a shade ot doubt rested on his character. The investigation which afterward took place, ended in ihc vote of thanks of the House of Commons both to him and Sir Charles. , , ^ . v,- u i,n ;» Th« great exploit of Earl St. Vincent's life, and that to which ho is principally indebted for his fame, was the splendid victory he obtame.> over the Spanish fleet oft' Cape St. Vincent, on the 14th of February, 1797. It was one of the most brilliant naval actions on record. He was created a peer soon after. During tlie administration ot Mr. Ad- dington he held the place of first lord of the admiralty. "°j;eUre« from thiD situation in 1805 ; after which he commanded the Channel fleet for some time. •„ ^ j ■ u-» natu He died, March 15, 1823, at Rochetts, near Breiitwood, in his 09th year. i #. ■ ' ' !:l iU 1 166 nArERIIILL. r'l i ;i longed to the navy ; the remainder were general officers. I shall name them severally, and attempt a brief biogra- phical sketch of each. Admiral Holmes, who had hoisted his flag in the Dublin, seventy-four, which Captain, since Lord Rodney, had just quitted on his promotion to the blue, was the first that met my eye upon my entrance. He had, among sailors, precisely that kind of reputation which is enjoyed by your do-no-harm people on shore, equivalent to do-no-good at sea, — could fight a little — how few there are who cannot? — had been tried by a courtmartial for his conduct in Knowles's engagement with the Spaniards, oft'Havannah, in 1718,* and w^as accounted a very good seaman. But liP was not " Tom of Ten Thousand."! nor Sir Charles Saunders. He had the merit, I have heard, of instructing in the duties of his profession that able and excellent officer Lord Hood, since so deservedly celebrated for his victory over De Grasse, and for other splendid naval achievements, and this was no inconsiderable merit. He was among the most violent of the unfortunate Byng's judges : I never forgave him the share he had in murdering that officer, under the forms, but without the spirit of justice. Another of these gentlemen was Captain, afterward Sir Hugh, Palliser. He has lately made some noise in the \i * It has not been generally tliouphl that any blame should be attach- ed to him for his conduct in that aiiair. In Byng's court-martial the caso is otherwise : he was among tho most virulent of that ill-fated man's enomies. Horace VValpole throws much reasonable susricion upon Holmes's motives and conduct in this affair. — See his Memoirs, vol. ii. p. 168. Admiral Holmes oied at Jamaica, in 1761. There is a monument to his memory in Westminster- II all. t The person here referred to was Admiral Smith, the same, I believe, who presided in the court-martial held upon Byng, and was, it is said, the natural brother of the first Lord Lyttleton. Admiral Smith died in 17G2. He was known in the navy by tlie appellation of" Tom of Ten Thousand." Many anecdotes are related of his wild and reckless valour. While iii temporary command (the captain being on shore) of the Gosport, a French fiigate, sailing out of Plymouth-harbour, passed himwithout lowering her topsails. Smith compelled the French- man to show the usual homage by a broadside. It being a time of peace, complaint was made, a court-martial sat upon him, and he was broke, with every circumstance of ignominy, and — made a post-captain next day. Horace >Yalpole calls him a "humane though weak man." »"«.^*Sf»S' nAV£RIIIJ.L. 167 re is a monument world by the court-martial he was principally instrumental in getting up on his old friend Admiral Keppel. Sir Hugh Palliser was born at Kirk Deighion, in York- shire. He belonged to a fighting family ; his father and two brothers, both older than himself, were at the battle of Almanza, and all three were badly wounded. The sub- ject of this brief sketch began his nautical career at a very early age, and was first lieutenant of the Essex in the action offToulon, in February, 1744, when little more than twenty years of age. Passing rapidly through the several interme- diate grades, and acting in various other important com- mands, we find him, in the latter part of the year 1740, post, in the Captain, of seventy guns. This ship, at the in- stance of his good feeling towards Sir George Pocock, he afterward left for the Sutherland, of fifty guns. His ser- vices were various and uninterrupted till 1755, when he con- ducted a convoy with troops, to assist in the last enterprise of the unfortunate Braddock. It was at this time that he became acquainted with Captain, afterward General, Washington ; but what gave rise to the implacable and un- concealed enmity evinced by him towards that great man, and towards the Americans generally, and which confess- j cdly grew out of this expedition, has never been ex- plained.* In May, 1757, Captain Palliser took, after a sharp action, the French ship Due d'Aquitaine. In June, 1758, he performed good service on the French coast, in destroying two frigates and a number of merchant-ships. One more sketch, and I shall have done with the naval part of the council. There was nothing very particular in the personal appearance of the naval chief of this expe- dition. Sir Charles Saunders. He was a good-looking but not handsome man, with a pleasant countenance, having * Sir Hugh Palli5er was a very brave man, but he was the slave of hasty and inipeluous passions, bittor ia his leads, and withal an intcLi- perate politician. These caus-=3, sometimes acting separately and Bometimes togelluii, kopt him perpetually embroiled, and created for him many fierce and implatiable enemies. Almost the whole of his life was a scene of bitter and fiusrce contention with a host of politicd and personal •assailants, who look advantage of his irritable temper to neutralize his good qualities. His charges against Admiral Keppel were weak and frivolous, and betrayed great vindictiveness. Mi ■ t Ji 168 HAVERHILL. much good-humoured expression in it, and florid with strong health. lie was at this time about forty-five years of age. As there have been few naval commanders more distinguished and honoured, further appreciated, and further trusted, I cannot but think that a brief biographical sketch of his hfe and services will not be unacceptable,to the reader. He was of German extraction, descended, if the genea- logical record of his family, which I have on my table, speaks true, from the source which has given to Germany a long line of emperors, the illustrious house of Hapsburg, deriving, if the family legend may be trusted, from Robert of Inspruck, second brother of Rodolphus, the first of that line. The first of the family who came to England was Sir Harlouen Saunders, who first established himself on British ground in the year 1270. In the time of Crom- well the family removed to Ireland, which thenceforth be- came the residence of the family, and w^iere they acquired large possessions. 1 am not able to give the date of the first commission granted to Mr. Saunders, but previous to the year 1740 he made himself so distinguished, that when Lord Anson was about to take command of the expedition to the South Seas, he procured young Saunders to be appointed first lieutenant of his own ship, the Centurion. In the February of the ensuing year, while the squadron were lying in the harbour of Port St. Julian, on the coast of Patagonia, giving one of the ships a new mainmast, and otherwise re- fitting and re^xuring, Mr. Saunders was appointed to take command of the Tryal sloop, in the place of Captain Cheap removed to the Wager. Being at the time dangerously ill of a fever, the surgeons advised that he should not be re- moved, lest his death should be the consequence, and Mr. Saumarez, who, upon Captain Saunders's appointment to the Tryal, had been made first lieutenant of the Centurion, was sent to take charge of that ship during her captain's illness. The epidemic, which he was among the first to imbibe, it is known, afterv/a'-d became general among the squad- ron, and swept away a large proportion of the crews of eacli. Captain Saunders buried twenty out of eighty, of •m h HAVERHILL. 169 which his crew was composed, before he was well round Cape Horn ; and the loss of the other ships of the squadron was equally heavy and disheartening. At this juncture, and in his duties subsequently performed, he acquitted him- self to the great satisfaction of his patron. In September, 1741, Captain Saunders came nearer accomplishing the principal object of the expedition than any one had hitherto done— he took a valuable merchant- ship from Valparaiso, bound to Callao. Either in the chase of the captured vessel, or soon after, the Tryal sprung her masts, and withal became so leaky, that finding it difficult, if not impossible, to keep her above water, he removed her armament, and ever/lhing else of value and importance, and destroyed her, adopting and commissioning his prize, to which he gave the name of" Tryal Prize," in her stead. In his new ship he cruised off Valparaiso for a few weeks, but without success. Thence dropping down the coast with a sharp eye out for the Dons, he rejoined his com- mander on the 2d November, off the point of Nasca. He did not again part company from the commodore till Apm, when the great reduction of numbers by the epidemic, and long-continued mortality, rendering a sacrifice of some of the ships necessary, in order that the remainder might be navigated with safety, and placed in a fighting condition, the Tryal andall other prizes were destroyed, and the re- maining ships, in particular the Gloucester, were reinforced by their crews. This arrangement threw Captain Saun- ders out of em[ loyment, constituting him little more than a gentleman passenger. Upon the arrival of the squad- ron at Macao, in November, 1742, he left and came home with despatches, which among other things attested his good conduct and recommended him for promotion. He had never been noted for grasping at riches, thence he probably bore, with better temper, his ill fortune in being out of the way when the Manilla galleon, with all its golden ingots, fell into the hands of his late commander. It is not known what ships he commanded between the period of his arrival from China (May 1743) and March 1745, when he was placed in command of the Sandwich, ninety. It is- hardly probable that he would have been raised at once from the command of a mere cockle-boat, Vol. I.— 15 170 BAVERniLL. n ■u'i^ ,1 , ¥ if Ji' ' for such was the Tryal, to the captainship of one of the largest ships in the British navy, and it is, therefore, reason- able to suppose that he had passed the intervening space m active service. In 1747, lie, for the first time, distinguished himself hy something more than prudence and good conduct. In the brilliant afl'air off Cape Finisterre, between Admirals Hawke and Letcndeur, which took place on the 14th of October in that year, he commanded the Yarmouth, sixty-four, and fought hie ship with great intrepidity. The Neptune and Monarquc, both of seventy-four guns, struck to him ; and so unsated was he with strife and success, that, disabled as he was, and with near a hundred of his men out of condition to fight, he wished to pursue Le Tenant and L'Intrcpid, the two ships which had escaped the fate of their comrades. In 1750, he came into parliament for Plymouth, and in the September of the same year, married Miss Buck, daughter of a wealthy London banker. In jMay, 1752, he went out in the Penzance, of forty guns, for the protection of the Newfoundland fishery. Returning to England, he was appointed, in April 1754,. treasurer of Greenwich Hospital, and in the ensuing May, through the interest of his great patron Lord Anson, was returned a member of pai'liament from tlie borough of Ilendon, in Yorkshire. In INIarch, 1755, he was appointed to the Prince, of ninety guns. Being a little proud of his ship, which was a beautiful specimen of marine architecture, just off the stocks, elegantly fitted up, and altogether worthy of a sailor's love and courtship, he gave a splendid entertain- ment at Spilhead, in the cabin of his ship, to the nobility assembled to witness the nautical doings upon the anni- versary of his majesty's coming to the throne. In the en- suing December he was made comptroller of the navy, and about the same time, chosen an elder brother of the Trinity-House. In June, 1756, he was promoted rear- admiral of the blue, and went out to the Mediterranean as second in command to Sir Edward Hawke. Upon the return of that oflScer to England, in 1757, he left Admiral Saunders in command of the fleet. In 1759, he was made vice-admiral of the blue, and appointed naval chief of the HATERHILL. m >f one of the jfore, reason- ^cning space 1 himself by duct. In the en Admirals on the 14th c Yarmouth, pidity. The • guns, struck and success, indred of his d to pursue 1 had escaped [louth, and in I Miss Buck, ^lay, 1752, he ;he protection ) England, he f Greenwich the interest of a member of Yorkshire, lie Prince, of >, which was a , just off the worthy of a did entertain- the nobility pon the anni- e. In the en- ■ of the navy, irother of the romoted rear- diterranean as e. Upon the le left Admiral ), he was made al chief of the expedition against the Canadas, to wit, that in which I was now serving. In all his various commands he was distinguished by a union of consummate prudence and ready valour seldom found in one and the same person. His opportunities for distinguishing himself were not so many and frequent as those which hud occurred to many other commanders ; but, when they offered, he had improved them to an ex- tent which gave him the entire confidence of the country, and caused him to be numbered among the " emergency men," among those who should be called to perilous com- mands, and intrusted with momentous undertakings. The friend of friendless young men, and equally the discoverer and rewarder of merit under a gabardine with that which was veiled by an embroidered vest, he brought out many who did honour to his judgment, and afterward became ornaments of the British navy. Kind and humane to his men, he was ardently beloved by them ; affable and pleasant in his deportment and demeanour, he was very popular with all classes ; honest, sensible, and sagacious, he filled several important offices connected with the navy, entirely to the satisfaction of both the government and people — two parties not always agreeing in their estimate of the value of official labours, nor offering their hands, at one and the same time, to a public servant. And here I leave Sir Charles Saunders, with my blessing upon him, for a brave and excellent man, and with the hope that he may live to acquire other and higher rewards.* * Upon big return from Quebec, Admiral Saunders was received with great joy and affection. Ho was appointed lieutenant-gen.oral of marines, and. upon his taking bis seat in the House of Commons, 'anuary '20, 1700, received, through the speaker, " the thanki of that house," for his gallant conduct and invaluable services. In the suc- ceeding May, he went to take command in the Mediterranean. In May, 1761, ho was made a Knight of the Bath, and in October, 1762, advanced to the rank of vice-admiral of the white. In September, 1760, having sometime had a seat at the admiralty board, he was sworn in of the privy council, and appointed first lord of the admi- ralty. At the funeral of the Duke of York, in 1767, he was one of the admirals chosen to support the canopy. In October, 1770, he was made admiral of the blue. He died December 7th, 1775, at his house, in Spring Gardens, and was interred in Westminster Abbey, on the 12th. The unequal disposition of his property between his two personal ^1 !J iM:. 172 HAVERHILL. M it ii *i Of the military gentlemen present there were several of whom my notice must be exceedingly brief. Brigadier the Honourable Robert Monckton was second son of the first Lord Galway, by his first wife Elizabeth, a daughter of the second Duke of Rutland. He was a rather young, and very gentlemanly officer, with a competent share of professional skill and science. His selection by the com- mander-in-chief to be one of his companions in the perilous expedition he was sent upon is not to be taken as proof that he was possessed of transcendent talents, or fitted beyond other men for the command of a brigade, for we see that very bad soldier. Colonel Howe, commanding the li^ht infantiy, and Barre, much of a politician, but little ot a soldier, acting as adjutant-general. The staff of the army appears to have been made on much the same principle as that by which a money-lender contrives to get usurious interest for a loan, without incurring the penalty of the laws. " I will loan you fifty pounds, at five per cent., pro- vided you will buy a chest of drawers (worth twenty shillings) at five pounds." It has been alleged that General Wolfe had the selecting of his staff". It is a mis- take. There were several thrust upon him whose ser- vices he little desired, and whom he never would have taken if he could have helped it. I do not mean to insinuate that General Monckton was one of the "bitter pills" the minister compelled the commander-in-chief to swallow. His conduct, while in command of the expedi- tion against the French West-India possessions, in 1762, proves him to have been rather an efficient soldier.* friends, 5000/. to Sir Hugh Palliser, and tlie like sum, with an addi- tional 1200/. per annum to Admiral Keppel, it has been suggested, was the cause of the implacable hostility evinced by the former towards the latter. Horace Walpole says of Admiral Saunders, that he was a " pattern of most steady bravery, united with the most unaffected modesty. No man sai(f less or deserved more. Simplicity in his manners, generosity, and good-nature, adorned his genuine love of country," Such a com- pliment from such a snarler as Walpolo, is equivalent to a volume from an habitual praiser. England has never, in my opinion, produced a man better fitted for naval command than Sir Charles Saunders. • In April, 1761, General Monckton was appointed governor of New- York. Towards the close of the year, he was sent to command th«) expedition which eventually dispossessed the French of their most jV**:-f.ii5:;: HAVERHILL. 173 were several if. Brigadier id son of the h, a daughter rather young, tent share of by the com- n the perilous I as proof that fitted beyond r we see that Jing the li^ht ut little ot a [f of the army le principle as get usurious •enalty of the per cent., pro- vorth twenty alleged that It is a mis- a whose ser- • would have not mean to >f the « bitter ler-in-chief to )f the expedi- ions, in 1762, ioldier.* a, with an addi- n suggested, was former towards was a " pattern id modesty. No iners, generosity, " Such a com- Lo a volume from lion, produced a I Saunders, ted governor of eut to command ch of their roost Brigadier Murray was also of noble blood, though not, as some have supposed, of the blood of the Athols, which has given some six or seven Murrays to the British peer- age. He was the youngest son of Alexander Lord Eli- bank, and entered the army about the same time as General Wolfe. Nobody ever thought him less than brave, but he never succeeded in what he undertook, nor honoured the commands he was intrusted with.* General Townsliend,t who succeeded to the command raluable West-India colonies. In 1773, a court of East-India proprie- tors recoiu mended liimto be sent out commander-in-chief of the forces, but the appointment was never made. In 1779, he was appointed governor of Portsmouth, in which situation ho continued till his death, which took place on the 20th June, 1782. His widow •urvivcd him near twenty years. • After the capture of Quebec ho was appointed governor of that place, and in 1763, of the province generally. In April, 1700, he was defeated at Siilery, near Quebec, by the French army, under M. Levi, and Wilis only saved from complete destruction by the opportune arri- val of tho fleet under Admiral Lord Colville. His conduct, during the mutiny of tho jn;arriaon of Quebec, in September, 1763, was di rrving of high praise. That he had not generally given satisfaction may be inferred from tho fact, that promotion to be lieutenant-general was with- held from him two years ai'ter his associates in Wolfe's last campaign, Townshend and Monckton, had been gazetted as such. In 1774, ho was appointed lieutenant-governor of Minorca, in which command he continued until lie was compelled to surrender it to the Duke do Crillon, in 1784. Charges of misconduct were brought against him by Sir William Draper, tho second in command (tlie friend of Junius), but they were not substantiated, and it is generally con- ceded that his defence was brave and obstinate. It has bc«i said that General Murray was of a very arbitrary, liti- gious, and overbearing temper. His bitter persecution of the unhappy Sutherland, who was judge advocate at Minorca, during his governor- ship, has been frequently commented upon. A lawsuit between them having been justly decided in favour of Mr, Sutherland, the general got him suspended and recalled. The misfortune preyed so deeply on the mind of the unfortunate gentleman that he shot himself in tho Green Park, within sight of the royal carriage, tiien passing, with his majesty, to St. James'i. After his return from Canada, an action was brought against him by merchants of Quebec, to recover back money, in his capacity of governor illegally imposed as duties ; and there, also, judgment was given against him. He died in 1794. t Horace Walpole was no friend of Townshend's, and has made very free with him in his Memoirs. " To Wolfe," says he (vol. ii. p. 345), "was asiociat«d George Townsh'ind, whose proud and sullen and con- temptuous temper never suffered him to wait for thwarting his lupe- riors till risen to a level with them. He saw ?very thing ia an ilN 15* ii »'■•" < ,.-'^'V. IMAGE EVALUATION TEST TARGET (MT-3) // /. M/.A fA 1.0 l.i 2.5 1^ S «. IIS us ■ 4 2.0 1.8 • 1.25 1.4 1.6 ^ — ^ 6" - ► 7^ A ■'t£f >^ Photographic Sciences Corporation 23 WEST MAIN STREET WESSTERN.Y. 14530 (716) 872-4503 ^^ ^ S' 7 Wl/.A m UAv^nniLtt \ •r/ w *) i . m of the army after the death of General Wolfe, and at* tempted to claim a larger share of the honour of the victory than belonged to him, was an important member of this council of war. He was a fierce politician, and continually thwarting the minister, and thence it was that he was so anxious to be rid of him. He was certainly a man of talents, — as a statesman, of first-rate talents,— but so very captious and fault-finding that no one liked to act with him. It would be a work of supererogation to attempt to des- cribe one so well known as General Townshend, and I pass to portrait seventh. Colonel, afterward General, Sir William Howe, and commander-in-chief from 1776 to 177d of the British army in America. (To make the portrait in keeping with the faculties cf its subject it should be a miniature, and below it should be written—" as large as life.") In the unhappy list of incompetent men whom Great Britain has, from time to time, appointed to office, not one stands out in stronger relief than Sir William Howe. It may be safely affirmed that he lost America. Had a sensible and conciliating, yet firm and deo'sive man, like Sir Guy Carle- ton, been sent in his stead, I am pursuaded, between ne- gotiation and a display, in a suitable place, of energy and resolution, an arrangement would have been effected, and the colonies remained linked to the mother-country for at least another century. Burgoyne was theoretical, Clinton was vacillating, but they were both very far before Sir William Howe in all that goes to make an efficient com- mander.* Poor Frazer ! I fancy I see thee now, lying, mortally wounded, on that disastrous field, lost by the imprudence natured and ridiculous light,— a sure prevention of ever being seen himself in a great one." Again (p. 383), ♦'-Townshend had crossed him (Wolfe) in his plans, but he had not yielded. Townshend, and his friends for him, had attempted to ra(vish the honour of the conquest from Wolfe. Townshend's first letter Said nothing in praise of him," &c. &c. \ * The American wits of the period indulged much at the expense of Sir William, and their lampoons upon him, both in Terse and prose, were without number. The best I have ever seen was a mock-heroic ballad, by Hopkinson, entitled the " Battle of the Kegs." The incident which gave rise to it, and which occurred while the British held Phila- delphia, was iadeed very ludicrous. Some machines, containing kegs Wo\(e, and at* r of the victory lember of this and continually hat he was so inly a man of 3, — but so very to act wi*h him. attempt to des- (^nshend, and I m Howe, and of the British n keeping with miniature, and life.") In the 'eat Britain has, one stands out e. It may be 1 a sensible and Sir Guy Carle- 3d, between ne- of energy and m effected, and r-country for at )retical, Clinton far before Sir 1 efficient com- , lying, mortally the imprudence jf ever being seen shend had crosied Townshend, and Dur of the conquest in praise of him," h at the expense of n Terse and prose, was a mock-heroic gg," The incident British held Phila- es, containing HAVERHILL. 175 and headstrong folly of John Burgoyne.* He was by birth a Scotchman, and one of the bravest men that ever drew a sword. So highly were his services and good conduct in this campaign valued, that he was elected, after they were known, and while he was yet absent, to repre- sent his native town of Inverness in parliament. Guy Carleton ! brave and noble man ! how shall I find words to express my sense of thy superior excellence, or space to say all I would of thy virtues and conduct ? Brave, shrewd, sagacious, penetrating, and conciliating I the equal of Wolfe in valour, and almost as well qualified for command, what fate, America, in all probability, had been thine, had the command of the British army, sent, in 1776, to effect thy subjugation, been intrusted to Guy Carleton instead of the indolent Sii* William Howe or the dramatic Burgoyne ? Of all those who had commands in America during that war, Clinton, Howe, Burgoyne, of gunpowder, had been set afloat above the city, to annoy the British fleet lying below. As they drifted down, a sharp fire was kept up on them, from the troops stationed on the wharves, with the hope to destroy them. The following is one stanza from the ballad :— " Sir William he, snug as a flea, Lay all this time a snoring ; Mor dream'd of harm, as he lay warm In bed with Mrs. Loring." Sir William was thought by many to have lost the battle of German- town purposely. Many and rough were the jokes and gibes passed upon him. The first time he went to court after his return from America, he had a pair of particularly fine bays to his carriage. " Where did the general get his bays?" demanded one. "Not in America," was the answer. It is nevertheless true, that he was the especial favourite of the commander-in-chief. His manners were very bland and fascinating. * The battle of Saratoga. After doing all that man could do to retrieve the fortunes of that fatal day, he fell, mortally wounded by a musket-ball fired by a man stationed in the top of a tree. He was re- moved to the rear of the army, and laid upon the ground in the shadow of an ancient oak. He demanded of the surgeon if his wound was mortal. He was told that it was: that he eould not be expected to live more than twenty«four hours. He proceeded immediately to make his arrangements to meet, the event, with as much coolness as if he had been dictating a despatch in a moment of victory. He died, as he had lived, the idol of the army, and of a wide circle of personal friends. Madam Reidesel has a charming passage in her Memoirs relating to this brave man. M 176 RATKRRILL. Cornwallis, Rawdon, no one came near Carleton for talent and ability. Guy Carleton, afterward Sir Guy, was born at Newry, in the year 1722. His father was Christopher Carleton, Esq. ; his mother was Miss Ball, daughter of Henry Ball, Esq. He entered the army, as most great soldiers have done, very young. At the time of the expedition against Quebec, his reputation stood so high that General Wolfe, as it is said, agreed to ease the premier's shoulders of the troublesome Townshend, provided he would prevail upon the king to consent that Carleton, who had displeased him, should accompany the expedition. So inveterate was the royal prejudice against Carleton that three several inter- views took place before the king would yield. In this cam- paign he possessed, as an officer, more interest with the commander-in-chief, and his professional opinion went further, than any other man in the army.* But he who, next to the commander-in-chief, most at- tracted my attention, was Major, afterward the celebrated politician and orator, Colonel Barre, acting as adjutant- general of the army. He had not yet distinguished him- self as a politician. Barre was, undoubtedly, a man of great talents, but his implacable and unrelenting hostility to " your" side of the question, and which even now began to show itself, though not so fully as when he had become a member of the imperial parliament, lost him a large share of the advantages he might have derived from a ready and caustic wit, a clear voice, a brilliant fancy, liberal know- ledge, and as much brass as was used in building the Pharos.f • lie was afterward in the expedition against Belle Isle, where he was wounded. In 1762 be was at the siege of Havannah. When Governor Murray was recalled from Quebec, he went out as lieuten- ant-governor, and soon aftet, was promoted to the government of the province. Ho continued to be employed in North America, either as commander-in-chief of the forces or as governor-general, until 1796. From 1781 till the acknowledgment of the colonies as independent states, he commanded the British army in America. He married, in May, 1772, Maria, daughter of the Earl of Effingham, and died in 1808, t Colonel Barr^ did not continue in military life long after the termi- nation of the Canada expedition. Ho remained with the army in Canada uotil th» fall of Montreal, in the September of the next year. leton for talent opinion went Harl ofEfRnghara, HAVERHILL. 177 The only person of the party remaining without his description, was a gentleman who sat upon the right of Admiral Saunders. As far as personal appearance went, he scarcely deserves a sketch — on the principle maintained by the old monastic writer, that where a " person is homely, it is proof positive that his Creator cared so little about him, that he did not even deign to finish him." He had a face sharp and thin, hair red and very coarse, skin fair and freckled, eyes blue and benignant, a smiling mouth, and a manner which assured you of the pleasant and happy dis- position of him that wore it, nevertheless, he was what might be called a plain man. Being so very unpretending in features, and withal the worst dressed of any one in the group, I set him down as a person who had thrust himself into the company of his betters — perhaps a clerk intro- duced to take notes, or a waiter to crack the walnuts. But I was very much mistaken ; it was the commander-in- chief. As General Wolfe has had few equals for courage, saga- city, and prudence, as none have gone beyond him in the display of military talent, and that watchfulness in season and out of season which more than any thihg else fits a then came home with the despatches announcing that event, and threw up all military command. In 1763 he came into parliament for Chip- ping Wycombe. He was now enabled to gratify his darling passion for forensic display, and made as many speeches, and was as often "upon his legs," to use a parliamentary phrase, as any other member. Some of his speeches were particularly fine. Barry's vehement patriotism was eventually silenced, as the patriotism of many others has been silenced — he obtained office. In 1768, he was appointed joint vice-treasurer of Ireland. Upon the coming into power of the whigs, under the Marquis of Rockingham, in March, 1782, he was made treasurer of the nav;'. Upon the death of th« marquis, which took place in the July following, he was made pay- master-general of the forces. In 1786, he was made clerk of the Pells, one of the best offices in the gift of the minister, and a complete sine- cure, worth more than 3000i. a year. The pension granted him by the marquis, a short time before his death, and which occasioned the motion and memorable debate in the House of Commons, was given up by him as the price of the sinecure. He held his office till the time of his death in 1802. He was completely blind for the last twenty years of his life, but retained to the moment of the paralytic stroke, which deprived him of existence, those talents for conversation, and the cheer- fiilness and ease which had rendered his company so much sought in Uie meridian of his Uf«. . n V 178 HAVERHILL. soldier for command, I cannot believe that my readers will think the time misapplied which is taken up in a rapid view of the principal incidents in the life of this admirable and justly celebrated man, and a brief delineation of his cha- racter previous to the time that 1 became acquainted with him. In drawing up this memoir I will be concise and brief, consulting the supposed feelings of my readers, and their fancied unwillingness to relish a long story, rather than my own heart, which could talk of him, think of him, write about him, for almost any length of time and number of pages, without weariness or satiety. James Wolfe was born in the parish of Westerham, in the county of Kent. His father was Edward Wolfe, the name of his mother was Henrietta. The father was him- self a soldier, and rose by the regular gradations to be a lieutenant-general. He died, if I do not mistake, colonel of the 8th regiment, or " King's own." James was the second son ; the eldest, Edward, a youth of great promise, also entered the army, and died young in Germany. The exact period of the birth of my hero is not well es- tablished. The inscription on the slab in the church at Westerham says he was born January 2d, 1727, but in a letter, with a copy of which I have been favoured, from him to his mother, dated November 6th, 1751, he says "I am this day twenty-five years of age." This would fix his birth upon November 6th, 1736. The entry of his bap. tism in the parish record at Westerham makes that ceremony to have taken place on the 11th of January, 1727. ^ It is believed that his opportunities for acquiring an edu- cation were not proportionably extended with the means of his father for affording them. But the best and surest test of original genius is tlie doing without them. At Wes- terham he went to school to a Mr. Lawrence, but I have never been able to learn who his preceptors were after his removal, with his father, to Blackheath, nor in any instance what were his favourite studies, or his peculiar habits at school. In riper years he astonished all by his readiness of reference to the classic authors who treated of his fa- vourite science, and quite as much by his chaste and beau- tiful diction, and his language, at once simple, impassioned, XIAVERHILLi no and energetic. His letters, as far as regards composition, are, in my opinion, among the best extant.* I have not the date of his first commission in the army, but he must have been very young at the time he received it, for he was known as a promising youth as early as 1747, when he served, with eclat, at the battle of Lafeldt. He distinguislicd liimself throughout that war by courage and good conduct, but, above all, by his exact, though humane and popular discipline. During the peace which followed, he exerted himself to improve the tactics of the regiment to which he was attached (Kingsley's, or the 20th), with such success that, at the battle of ^linden, it was allowed to be the most regular and exact of any brought into ac- tion ; and, though not under the eye of its trainer, wns, with the exception of Waldegravc's, which stood upon a par of excellence with it, the most elective of any engaged on that memorable day. During the long period he was (luartcred in England, he was in the habit of corresponding regularly with his family. The letters he wrote at that time are delightful, while they are full of precept and instruction for youthful aspirants to military honours — indeed, I may say, for ambitionists in any path. -They show his successful resistance to the wiles which beset youth, especially soldier youth. He hints at one " besetting sin," which he mastered, and speaks of " passions combated and overcome," from which it may be inferred that he was of an ardent temperament. He tells his mother that he is quite a ladies' man, and gives much time to female society. With his profession, which is a sure passport to the favour of the fair ; with his high reputation, which would induce them to throw up the checks they are sometimes compelled to impose on them- m * His letters, amounting to more than two hundred, passed, at his death, into the hands of his friend, and I believe liis father's executor, tho late General Ward, and from thence into Mr. Southey's. It ia probably known to most of my readers that the hiureate is writing the hero's life for Mr. Murray's Family Library. When we recollect that Mr. Southey, always a powerful writer, is peculiarly happy in biog- raphy, and memoir writing (see the Life of Nelson! the Memoirs prefixed to Kirke White's Remains, Bunyan's Pilgrim's Progress, &c.), it is not too much to expect from him a book which shall adorn the literaturs and langiuagt of the nation. j-fssaawk' '»i-K ,^- ^. - T(«»*lB**!.'f t 160 HAVERKILL. selves in the society t)f military gentlemen ; and with liig manners, which were singularly bland, lively, and pleasing, it would have been strange had he not been a favourite. If I do not mistake, for I took no copies of his letters, and quote frommemory,he intimates that his plain physiognomy and red hair were not insuperable bars to his becoming a sort of " Captain bold in country quarters." In 1757, he was appointed quarter-master-general of the expedition against Rochfort. It has been generally conceded that if Sir John Mordaunt had embraced his plan of receiving upon the ships the fire of Fort Fouras while the army should be landing on the other side of it, the ob- jects of this costly enterprise would have been easily accom- plished. The council of war who resolved that it was better to return, — sneak back again, were the more appro- priaie phrase, — and leave the glory of Britain dimmed and tarnished, had not the name of James Wolfe among them. But while the affair lost Conway his popularity — (Sir John Mordaunt owed his appointment to Sir John Ligo nier's rather than public opinion,) — and did not exalt the reputation of Sir Edward Hawke, it drew down all eyes upon General Wolfe,* and paved the way for the command which he was afterward intrusted with. The popular and well-grounded belief that, if his advice had been fol- lowed, Rochfort would have been taken, was almost tanta- mount to a designation of him for any subsequent hazard- ous service. In the spring previous to the commencement of my ac- quaintance with him he went out with Sir Jeffery Amherst * Horace Walpole hints, in a letter to Seymour Conway, dated two or three days after the despatches announcing the capture of Quebec had been received, that Wolfe owed his death to his blame of the for- mer's conduct at Rochfort. The passage occurs in his thirty-fourth letter to the field-marshal (quarto edition of Walpole's Works, page 65, vol. v.), and is in these words ; «' Wolfe, I am convinced, has falltn a tacrifice to hit rath blame of you. If I understand any thing in the world, his letter that came on Sunday said this: ' Quebec is impregnable; it is Hinging away the lives of brave men to attempt it. I am in the situ- ation of Conway at Rochfort ; but, having blamed him, I must do what I now see h« was in the right to see was wrong, and yet what he would have done ; and, as I am commander, whch he was not, I have the melancholy power of doing what ho was prevented doing.' Poor man ! his life has paid the price of his injustice.** HAVERHILL. 181 in the expedition against Louisbourg, having then the rank of brigadier. It is not necessary that I should say vrhaX he did there. Few can be ignorant that he was the firsi man who threw himself into the surf, which was so rough and dangerous that several were drowned, and very many boats overturned in the attempt to get to the shore. His darins und impetuous valour won the day ; his soldiers followed him with alacrity ; the centre, commanded by Brigadier Lawrence, " took the water" soon after, and the victory was cheap, easy, and complete. Early in the following year he was appointed com- mander-in-chief of the expedition to which I was now at- tached ; and here I close my very brief account of his like and services, promising to continue the sketch of the for- mer, with, alas ! the conclusion of both. CHAPTER XXn. " And so you are the young man we picked up last night, are you not ?" asked Sir Charles. I replied in the affirmative. He then inquired into the particulars, which I gave, not however without considerable hesitation and frequent con- tradiction, for my memory was very imperfect, and my recollection much confused for several days after my res- cue. I had, at' this time, but a very indistinct remem- brance of what had recently happened to me. There floated in my mind a mass of images quite as troubled and tumultuous as the ocean at the period of my disaster — in* deed, there was a continual passing and repassing before my eyes of the scenes I saw then. The surges were still roat- ing in my ears and tossing themselves about and foaming before my eyes as they were wont to do on the first day of my exposure in the boat. It is known to be the com- mon effect of the lengthened presentation of a remarkable object to one of the senses, especially to that ofseeingt>rcf hearing, that it will retain the impression of the object long Vol. L— 16 ^a.. . 183 HAVERHILL. /f after it has been removed from a«tual perception. I fear I have not made myself understood, but I think I can by a pair of homely illustrations. I have known a man who had been placed for a day in the vicinity of a flock of sheep at the period when their lambs were first separated from them to be weaned, or who had listened for some time to the barking of a dog, hear the bleating of the former, and the complaints of the latter, when, in both cases, the nuisance had been completely abated. When I had recounted my story, the admiral remarked to Captain Palliser, that he had never, in the course of a rather long life, principally spent on the sea, known an in- stance of preservation from death so remarkable as mine, " If the special interposition of Providence," said he, " be taken as prophetic of its having something good in store for you, young man, you may indulge hopes of prosperity and success in your future undertakings. You will be an ad- miral, I think." " A general, I am sure," said Wolfe. " Pshaw ! Hold your tongue, Wolfe," said the admiral, affecting peevishness. " Your late affecting loss, and your anxiety about your parents, my young man, will, I fancy, make you anxious to return as soon a? possible, to afford them the small consolation of knowing that one, at least, of their sons is living." I made no immediate reply — I could not, for my tears 00 wed too fast to admit of my answering. They appeared to be deeply affected by my grief. As soon as I could command my feelings, I told them I did not think of re- turning home at present. I wished to become a soldier. " That is a wise resolution," said Wolfe, winking to the admiral, who appeared to be strangely nettled at my declaration. " It is by far the easier life." "No such thing," said the admiral. "The general is only chasing his tail, my youngster. He knows better. It is a hard life, a very dog's life, this fighting on land. All warfare should be transferred to the sea, all quarrels should be settled on that element, and of this opinion have all wise men been. There ip something sedative in brine, my man. Become a sailor for your life, if you wish to be thought a brave man, or to pasii for a Christian," 'ft'e**.'^' HAVERHILL. 183 Dption. I fear think I can by ivn a man who ' of a flock of first separated i for some time of the former, 30th cases, the niral remarked he course of a I, known an ia- -kable as mine, /' said he, " be ood in store for prosperity and will be an ad> lid the admiral, I loss, and your 1, wills I fancy, s»ible, to afford one, at least, of )t, for my tears They appeared oon as I could )t think of re- come a soldier, winking to the nettled at my The general is knows better, gon land. All quarrels should [)n have all wise brine, my man. o be thought a " Become a sailor, and be the sport of every wind that l,]ow8 — at the mercy of every tempest that sweeps the ocean !" exclaimed the soldier. " Fair weather or foul, 'tis all the same to Jack, turn out he must. 'Tis • a small pull here, and a small pull there,* 'tis ' up with you, you lubber,' and 'out of my way, you scoundrel.' 'D — n your eyes,' says the captain ; ' d— n your eyes,' says the lieu- tenant ; * d — n your eyes,' says the boatswain ; * d — n your eyes,' says the chaplain. — As the Englishman said to the Dutchman, who was giving the names of the principal towns of his country : * Your Amsterdam and your Saar- dam, and your Rotterdam, and you are all damns.' When sailors fight, it is like a London shopkeeper telling his first lie ; and when they die, they are sowed up in an old sack and tumbled overboard to feed the sharks. No, no, my young man, listen to the advice of a disinterested friend, and take the land service." " Now, all that Wolfe has been telling you is absolute blarney, and he knows it," said the admiral, screwing his face into an appearance of being very angry with his opponent. I had, however, penetration enough to see that it was all assumed, though I could not tell for what pur- pose. "In the land service they bivouack you among snow and ice — among serpents and wild beasts — in the mud, in the dust — Heaven knows where they don't, for the time, put you. Now you climb mountains, and now you swim rivers ; sleep like a horse, standing up, and eat while you are crawling upon all fours." «* Breathe awhile, and then to it again," said Wolfe. " Soldiers die of as many diseases as horses, and very nearly of the same nature— even think, I have heard of their dying with the bots; cold chills, and hot chills, excessive tremblings — at times, the plague, the lumbago, and a thou- sand other diseases; to say nothing of their being hung for taking a certain species of ready-made linen from hedges and bleaching fields, as the recruits of one Sir John Fal- staff did, when he « misused the king's press so damnably at Coventry.' Now, sailors never die — " "If sailors never die," said Wolfe, counterfeiting the ap- pearance of much gloom and depression of spirits, «• I'll be si ii V 184 MAVBRHILL. off to the moon ; no, to Mars— there will be no living on earth for blackguards." " Sailors never die but one kind of death," resumed the admiral, eying the other contemptuously. " A fair stray, pike, gunshot, or sword and dagger death, my man. When soldiers fight, it is damnubly shy, as every one knows, Wolfe better than any body — from experience. It is true, they have one great advantage over us tars, they get — buried — in earth, but it is by tens, or ten score, in a big hole, with iuat about the same ceremony that we intsr the corpses of puppies and kittens." •♦ The sharks don't get us," said Wolfe. " No, but the dogs and tigers — and — wolves — singular Wolfe, do. I remember seeing fine sport once, tigers versus dead soldiers, as my brother the barrister would say. It was near Cassambuzar — " "Twang! Don't believe him, my lad. Old Rough here would tell you, if he dared, that the nearest Sir Charles ever went to the spot he is talking of, which is a town in the East Indies, was the South Foreland." " Why, Wolfe, you might as well say I lie, as — as to accuse me of telling an untruth." "I have my thoughts about the matter," said Wolfe. ♦' Impudent enough," exclaimed the admiral, pretending to be in a violent passion, but scarcely able to contain his laughter. " My lad, if you will become a sailor, the road to honour lies open to you. Preferment shall follow your enlistment in my ship, as sure as my name is Charles Saunders, and my commission — " " Is, or will be soon, vice-admiral to the yellow, with permission to hoist his flag on a haystack. His friendship can be of no avail to you, Mr. Haverhill, for he is already recalled to take charge of the Moses and Aaron, Sunder- land collier." "Keep that noisy tongue of yours quiet ; your talk does you no honour, Wolfe. My young man, you shall supply the place, for a time, of midshipman Lenox, who is cutting his teeth — curse on the favouritism which con- verts ships of war into nurseries. When his gums are well you shall be translated to a better berth." " I have a situation for you in my eye worth a hundred V ;* :5- )e no living on " resumed the " A fair stray, ath, my man. as every one xperience. It r us tars, they ten score, in a that we intsr olves — singular ;e, tigers versus vrould say. It )ld Rough here ist Sir Charles h is a town in [ lie, as — as to aid Wolfe, ral, pretending e to contain his sailor, the road lall follow your me is Charles ie yellow, with His friendship r he is already Laron, Sunder- et; your talk man, you shall in Lenox, who ism which con- 3 gums are well orth a hundred UAVBRIIILL. 185 of that," said the general, earnestly. *' There ii a vacancy in Bragg's — " **A proper and suitable name, by the great Neptune," exclaimed the jovial admiral, " Bragg ! im ! ha ! a very suitable name. The commander-in-chief of this notable concern should have been named Bragg instead of Wolfe, for a greater brag never placed hand on hilt." " You shall fill that vacancy — it is of ensign," said Wolfe. " You know little of these matters, I suppose. Were you ever at drill?" " I confess my entire ignorance of every thing connected with camps." " But you are not ignorant of nautical matters, I dare say?" asked the admiral. " Could hand, reef, and steer, I suppose ?" " Yes, sir." " And yet any body may see, with half an eye, that you are intended for a soldier," said Wolfe. " Tall, straight, alert, the qualifications of a soldier ; not short, drowsy, and dull, which are those of a sailor." " I wish I was as sure of the death of my aunt Holds- worth, while I am able to spend the twenty thousand I am down in her will for, as I am that you will make a capital sailor, a real water-dog. Shall I put you down in the place of Baby Lennox ?" And he drew a roll of paper to him, and dipped his pen in the ink. " What is your name ?" demanded Wolfe, proceeding to do the like with his roll and pen. "Ay, I remember, Haverhill — Lynn Haverhill. Well, Lynn Haverhill to be ensign in Bragg's regiment, in the room of Robert Haldi- mand, deceased, sowed up in a sack, and buried, according to Sir Charles Saunders* prescription, in the maw of a shark." " Lynn Haverhill to be midshipman in the royal navy, ia the room of Fitzroy-Campbell-Bentinck-Cavendish- Somerset Lennox, who is cutting his teeth. Memorandum. When Lennox's gums are well, and he resumes his place, Midshipman Haverhill is to have the first vacancy that oc- curs, in a station of equal or superior rank." Both extended the parchment, dipped their pens in the ink, and awaited my answer in Bilence, and with more 16* & 186 HAVSKHILL. W ^1 reBi?' gravity than they had hitherto shown. I could scarcely believe that a dialogue so conducted was intended for more than sport. 1 thought, however, if it were meant for a joke, it would be best to treat it as Shaccabac did that of the Barmecide's imaginary feast — not show my sus- picion of its being such, but to humour it, I replied, therefore, with profound respect; and without taking any part in the laugfi which my apparent credulity raised, that ** 1 thanked them both, and thut I was filled with joy to think that I, who had hitherto considered myself a friendless boy, should so soon be offered promotion." " Come, come, you are smoking us, my youngster," said the admiral. " I'll be bound you see how the tide sets." " But do you accept my offer ?" asked Wolfe, eagerly. " If you please, sir." " Better sign here," said the admiral, offering his pen and parchment. " I prefer the land service, if you please, sir," said I, ttfking the pen, and si^^ning the roll held by the general. "Victory! victory! by the mighty Mars!" exclaimed Wolfe, jumping up and capering like a schoolboy. " Saunders, 1 have made him a soldier, I have won your money — a cool fifty, my old fellow. Come, shell out your guineas." Seeing me perplexed, and tortured with the natural fear that I had been made the subject of ridicule, his counte- nance assumed a look of good-natured compassion, and he said, — ♦• Do not be disconcerted, Mr. Haverhill ; after all, it is but half a joke, the commission is, or shall be, real and au- thentic. It is Xi je that my Cassambu^ar friend here and I made a bet, and that you were the subject of it. I — of course, dislike the navy, he the army, and both dislikes are quite natural. He offered to wager fifty guineas that you wculd enter the sea-service in preference to the land-ser- vice. 'Agreed,' said I. Carleton, how glum he looks. Mr. Haverhill, you have shown *' Folly, great folly," cried the admiral. "Wisdom, wisdom, my dear old Boanerges," replied hii gay and lively friend. Then, dropping the light and sportive manner which he had hitherto worn, he assumed :ould scarcely i intended for i^ere meant for ;abuc did that show my sus- it. I refilied, ut taking any itv raised, that ed with joy to elf a friendless oungster," said tie tide sets." blfe, eagerly. ing his pen and le, sir," said I, the general, rs!" exclaimed a schoolboy, tiave won your , shell out your the natural fear lie, his counte- passion, and he ; afler all, it is be, real and au> fiend here and 'X of it. I — of )0th dislikes are iineas that you to the land-ser- ^lum he looks. BAVERHILL. 187 a serious and dignified deportment, which awed every one into immediate silence, and said, " Mr. Haverhill, you must remember not to disgrace me. Distinguish yourself by your bravery and good conduct, and you shall not remain in your present grade an hour after the first battle. You will find your post with my worthy old friend in the , to which ship you will repair, without a mo- ment's delay." A boat was in waiting at the side of the ship, and ipeedily conveyed me to my post. There were several rather hard jokes cut at my expense, as I ascended the side ; but my friend Matthowman was at hand, and the jokers were soon quieted. Behold me, then, in the short space of six days, raised from the greatest obscurity to one of comparative rank, my fisher's apron thrown aside, and I wearing the habit of one entitled to bear the flag of a regiment in any field. It was a great change, but one which is daily witnessed in every country, where the pri- vilege to " hope nobly" is the birthright of all. The peerage and baronetage of Great Britain are made up of personi who, in themselves or their ancestors, were as poor and mean as I, but who, by daring and good conduct, achieved rank and nobility. And in so far as nobility is personal, there cannot be a more efficient practice to excite emula- tion, than that of bestowing titles and ribands as the re- ward of brave and meritorious notions. There is no reason in the world why a bad or booby son should repre- sent the honours won by a good and worthy father ; but the gift of those honours, in the first instance, was an act which, periiaps, led hundreds into the field of battle by sea or by land, or filled the bar and tho forum with worthy aspirants for legal and political coronets. erges," replied I the light and rD,he assumed 18S HAVERHILL. W- II: tP m CHAPTER XIII. I SOON succeeded in removing the slight prejudice whicli was felt against me on account of my " stepping too fast," and became rather a favourite. Observing, from my almost canine appetite, that I was not fit to be trusted with victuals, they divided themselves, for the first three or four days, into regular watches over me, observing, continually, how and what I ate and drank, portioning out food and drink to me, at the times, and in such quantities as they deemed proper. ]Nothing could be greater than their kindness to me when my story became known. My "weatherbeaten and dilapidated apparel was partly replaced from the king's chest, but I was indebted for those articles which his majesty does not supply to the liberality of my brother officers. Not only did they clothe me, — a collec- tion made among them put a greater sum of money in my pocket than 1 had ever been master of in the whole course of my life. Under the influence of their kind attentions, my strength returned with wonderful rapidity. In a very few days I had perfectly recovered my health, and with it my memory, and became so fully competent to laborious exertions that, in a heavy gale of wind, which happened on the fourth day after I was taken on board the ship, I was supposed to have contributed, in no little degree, to her rescue from imminent peril. The circumstance being re- ported to the admiral, served him for a bitter tirade against the general, for having " robbed him of the skeleton of a post-captain !" But the general retorted, by saying that the " astonishing proficiency I had made in acquiring the theory of war — war upon the land, proved me cut out for a soldier." ifaving already filled half a dozen pages with one of their merry dialogues, it will not do for me to occupy space with a second, which, however, was quite as charac- teristic of the men, and as replete with wit and drollery as the former. Captain (my present commander), I must sup- HAVERHILL. 189 prejudice which jpping too fast," ving, from my be trusted with rst three or four ing, continually, w out food and intities as they Iter than their 5 known. My partly replaced Dr those articles iberality of my me, — a collec- >f money in my le whole course dnd attentions, lity. In a very lealth, and with ent to laborious ch happened on the ship, I was degree, to her tance being re- 5r tirade against e skeleton of a by saying that n acquiring the me cut out for a pages with one • me to occupy [juite as charac- it and drollery ), I must sup- Kress his name, for I know and love, and will not offend is worthy representative — but this is immaterial, for British sailors will be at no loss for the original, and others may regard it as a mere fancy sketch — Captain was, at this time, about fifty-five years of age. But though he was far advanced in life, he possessed the vigour and activity of youth, with its usual buoyancy of mind and flow of animal spirits. He was a thorough libertine, but then he made up for it all by having, as the ladies say of an agreeable rake, " such a heart." And here the occasion offers to enter my protest against the prevailing, 1 may say, the unvarying custom, of making coarseness and bluntness the concomitants and character- istics of the naval profession. It is not more common to give old Scratch a tail and cloven feet than it is a sailor, from the captain to the " guinea-pig,"* a rough and blus- tering manner, and to suppose him always with an oath in his mouth and a swagger in his gait. If he belongs to the naval profession he invariably "damns his eyes" — or " yours," chews tobacco, depositing the spittle on the car-? pet, drinks " raw" rum, and even in a ball-room, rolls about like the vehicle in which he learned his habits, to the great annoyance of the ladies, the utter demolition of tulle and lama, and the complete discomfiture of " right and left." Now this is all fudge — not a very elegant word, to be sure, but a very appropriate one here. I have seen hun- dreds of genuine tars who could Caper [as] nimbly in a lady's chamber To the lascivious music of a lut* as any landsman that ever " trod a measure." So far from being rough in their manners, they are — on shore, rather gentle, and quite as easy and accomplished, and certainly more affable and unaffected than any other body of men. It is, moreover, the truth that whenever they are found rough and forbidding in their exterior, it is in consequence of the mistaken notions put forth by writers, who have helped to make them what they are. Finding the world * Midshipmen ar^ sometimes called " tho gentlemen," but more fre- quently " the guinea-pigs," on board a ship of war. i*-- 190 HAVBRIIILL. '>1 V'^ '^ /: was determined to believe the sailor harsh, blustering, and morose, otherwise he were an impostor, they affected those qualities when they did not possess them, counterfeited the roll and swagger when nature had denied theni, " swore terriWy," even when want of glibness betrayed want of practice, and kept a prodigious pig-tail to wear with the dress coat and pumps. Rough men there are in all busi- nesses and callings ; some never can or do become cour- tiers,^ while others are so from their cradles, and with- out the advantage of having been taught. Of the first class was Captain , who certainly came up to the po- pular estimate of the character of a tar. There never perhaps was a truer representative of one of those classes than he. When your eye rested upon his portly figure, his rubicund and bloated visage, and were told that he was a Bailor, having the popular model in your mind, you imme- diately set him down as one who would drink a quart of mixed brandy and water — three brandies to one water— at a sitting, who would freely risk his life to do a favour to his greatest foe — flog a man for throwing a quid of to- bacco to windward, and if need were, lay a fifty-gun ship alongside of a seventy-four, though the were manned with devils from the infernal regions. If the reader would have a portrait of Captain t let him fancy to himself a man five feet five inches high, and about the same in circum- ference, with a face of the hue of bronze, and swelled and carbuncled by frequent and copious draughts of any thing stronger than proof, till he finds himself at a loss to determine what it was originally made of. His hair was red, and the coarsest I ever saw, and, seldom knowing the luxury of a comb, stood out like the quills of a porcupine. I fancy I can see him now, seated at the head of his own table, sending out a joke, or ejaculating a good-natured oath with every plate, cursing every thing upon the table for ill quality or ill savour, and between each good-natured expletive taking a couple of sips of his favourite beverage. Then it was as " good as a play" to see him go swaggering about the deck, now cocking his eye aloft to remark if all went well in the department of sails and rigging, now abandoning his professional observation to sing a verse of *' Pretty Polly Hopkins," and anon scolding with " dry h %^. ' HAVERHIIX. 191 , blustering, and sy affected those ounterfeited the 1 them, " swore trayed want of > wear with the 3 are in all bus!- o become cour- dles, and with- it. Of the first no up to the po- There never of those classes portly figure, his Id that he was a nind, you imme- drink a quart of to one water- to do a favour ng a quid of to- f a fifty-gun ship »re manned with ader would have himself a man same in cirwim- and swelled and ;hts of any iself at a loss to '. His hair was om knowing the 1 of a porcupine, lead of his own ; a good-natured 5 upon the table ch good-natured ourite beverage. n go swaggering to remark if all nd rigging, now u sing a verse of ding with " dry damns," as he called them, the common sailors, who loved him as well as if he had been their father. No man ever was possessed of less dignity, and none was ever better obeyed or carried a ship into action with a more perfect co-operation on the part of his officers and crew. On the morning of the twenty-first of April we made the land, which, by our observation of the sun the preced- ing day, we knew to be the entrance to Gabarus-Bay, about seven miles west of the town of Louisbourg, in the island of Cape Breton. This place, it may be remembered, was the scene of the brilliant exploits of my brave and gene- rous patron of the preceding year, already briefly narrated in the sketch of his life. The sight drew the liveliest ap- plause from our brave fellows. We soon after bore away for Louisbourg, were within sight of the harbour, and had begun to indulge the pleasing anticipations which a very protracted stay on shipboard never fails to inspire — had already "rolled upon the green sward," "slept upon /ea/Aer-firma," " gone to church !" and done the various other things which men at sea, in joke or in earnest, con- template doing when they get on shore, when we discov- ered that the harbour was completely blocked up with ice. Entrance under existing circumstances was impossible, and we bore away for Halifax. Upon our arrival at that place the troops were immediately disembarked, in order that the sick and disabled might be recruited and restored. Before the fleet sailed from England, information had been received at the admiralty, and communicated to the commanders of the expedition, that a squadron of French ships of war, convoying victuallers and transports, had lefl Cherbourg for Quebec, in order to provision and arm. more effectively the garrison of that stronghold, against the an- ticipated efforts of Great Britain to wrest it from them. Admiral Durell was detached with a small squadron to the Isle aux Coudres, in the river St. Lawrence, to intercept them. I went with him. The navigation of the coast at that point, and indeed along the whole of the adjacent shores, is very perplexed and dangerous — it requires one well acquainted. with the shores of the bay and adjoining coast to pilot a fleet to the Isle aux Coudres • " liout leaving the bones of some of them on the sands, or aruid the roclu 193 MATBIUUI4* V- i of that stormy region. We escaped all disasters, but were too late to derive any benefit from the expedition. When we arrived at our station we were informed that seventeen large ships, laden with provisions, and having on board many recruits for the army we were shortly to combat, had passed three or four days before, and were safely anchored at Quebec. On the 23d of June we were rejoined by the rest of the fleet from Halifax. Dangerous as the navigation of this river is supposed to be, we met with obstructions only to make light of and overcome them. Not an accident oc- curred, except that a stupid « middy" was caught wan- dering too far from his fellows, and had a pair of French handcuffs put on him. It was not till the 27th of the month that we effected a debarkation of ths army. The •pot chosen for this purpose was the island of Orleans, •which lies a little below the town of Quebec, and nearly ia the centre of the St. Lawrence. The name given it by merry old Jaques Cartier— he was from Brittany— the "Island of Bacchus," from the vines laden with grapea which h3 found upon it, was no longer applicable. The beautiful fields of grain just beginning to turn yellow, and orchards of half-formed fruit, which were now its rich pro- ductions, showed that the worship of Pomona and Ceres had been substituted for that of the jolly god of wine. The active genius and mental activity of the com- mander-in-chief left no time for repose. There never, perhaps, was a man endowed with more energy and de- cision than General Wolfe. We were scarcely landed, the disastrous effects of a tempestuous gale of wind repaired, and the dangers arising from a squadron of fireships which came drifting down upon us, on the night of the 28th, pre- vented by the prudence and foresight which, equally with valour and, in the proper place, excessive daring, were prime qualities of Wolfe's mind, before we were at log- gerheads with the Frenchmen. Before I introduce my readers to a field of victory and ■cenes of carnage, I must be allowed to attempt a brief description of a place rendered famous in that and sue-' ceedhis wars, and not less celebrated for the bloody con- flicts which took place under its walls than for the beau- HAVERHILL. 193 isters, but were dition. When that seventeen ving on board to combat, had >afely anchored the rest of the ligation of this actions only to in accident oc- IS caught wan- pair of French tie 27th of the 13 army. The ind of Orleans, ec, and nearly name given it 1 Brittany — the in with grapes tplicable. The irn yellow, and ow Its rich pro- lona and Ceres od of wine. Y of the corn- There never, energy and de- cely landed, the wind repaired, fireships which )f the 28th, pre- jh, equally with e daring, were jve were at log- of victory and attempt a brief A that and suc-^ the bloody con- ui for the beau- tiful and sublime scenery, — the bold, rocky steeps, ro- mantic waterfalls, noble river, and other objects of ex- ceeding natural beauty by which it is surrounded. Quebec lies at the distance of a hundred and twenty leagues from the ocean. It is situated in the narrowest part of the St. Lawrence, on a neck or peninsula between Cape Diamond and the little river St. Charles. The name has, in the opinion of most, rather an uncertain de- rivation, for it may, with about equal propriety, be referred to the Algonquin word Quibeis, signifying a " straining," or strait (the river is here only a mile in breadth), and to the Abenaquis word Quelibec, which signifies " a place shut up or concealed ;" (it is nearly hidden from the east — the point by which the Abenaquis were wont to ap- proach it.) My own opinion is that it had an Abenaquis origin. Indian words are always appropriate, and de- scribe the most prominent feature or circumstance with singular truth. The Abenaquis were an Acadian tribe, who came to Quebec by the river De la Chaudiere, between which and the south channel of the St. Lawrence there is a complete interposition of the high grounds of Point Levi, jutting out by the island of Orleans, so as to hide effectually the land-locked waters of the bay or basin of Quebec. This is not, however, of much consequence : that I have been drawn in to speak of it at all is that others may be induced to speak of it less, and so that prolixity on a subject of little moment may be banished the pages of future travellers to that region. Quebec was founded in 1608, by Champlain, a French- man, the same who gave his name to an extensive lake lying partly in Canada and partly within the now United States. Its progress was slow at first, for the French are not a people who colonize with rapidity, or advance with energy to the overthrow of obstacles like those which were encountered by the first settlers in the woods of America. Fifty years after the occupation by Champlain of the present site of the city, it contained but twelve hundred inhabitants, of whom a considerable portion were priests and nuns, Recollects and Ursulines. It never made any considerable advance in numbers or wealth till after its occupation by Great Britain. Nor has it smce grown with Vol. I.- 17 '?l . i ^^', till: g* 194 HAVERHILL. I\ * 'fi the rapidity, nor attained the riches, which has marked the progress ot' scores of towns in North America which were far less advantageously situated for purposes of aggran- dizement. The town was divided into two parts — the Upper and the Lower, Both were strongly fortified, the latter by artificial means, the former by the double defences of great natural strength, aided by the professional science and ingenuity for which the French have long been remarkable, and which has fenced the frontiers of France with a chain of impregnable fortresses. The lower town might be taken, — the French themselves counted upon its .speedy occupation by us. It was their policy to expend little blood upon its retention — indeed, to permit its capture, which Would lose us, for any useful purposes, the services of all the troops employed in its occupation. The device was, however, too slightly veiled to escape the keen and wary eye of the commander-in-chief. He exerted him- self, as far as the lower town was concerned, with erect- ing batteries of cannon and mortar upon the heights of Point Levi, and with directing an incessant cannonade and bombardment. Do not infer, reader, that the defences of the lower town had been altogether neglected. The forti- fications, though very irregular, were strong. Flanked by two bastions, a right and a left, at high tides almost level with the water, the right bastion having above it a half bastion, cut out of the solid rock, and a little higher a battery of twenty-five pieces of cannon ; " the Port," for so was the lower town called, might have been deemed a position of strength, but for its vicinity to and consequent compari- son with one which had long been supposed, and was nearly proved to be, impregnable. In the hands of Britons it would have been quite so ; indeed, it afterward easily withstood the American troops under Montgomery. It was the remark of an officer who had served in several European wars, "that no place ever possessed greater benefits of nature than Upper Quebec." This was saying rather too much ; for Gibraltar and Xaminiec are, un- doubtedly, stronger in natural defences, and both Lisle and Valenciennes equal. But we might safely concede to it, even as Wolfe saw it on the 13th of September, 1754, IS marked the n which were )s of aggran. e Upper and the latter by 3nces of great science and n remarkable, ! with a chain wn might be )n its .speedy expend little t its capture, , the services The device the keen and exerted him- d, with erect- he heights of annonade and le defences of d. The forti- Flanked by almost level )Ove it a half gher a battery " for so was ned a position uent compari- sed, and was nds of Britons erward easily itgomery. It ed in several iessed greater his was saying iniec are, un- both Lisle and concede to it, tember, 1754, IIAV£RIIILL. 190 the first rank among second-rate fortresses of strength. And when skilful engineers shall have done fur it wimt Coehorn did for Bcrgen-op-Zoom, it will (hiscrvo from the belcaguerer the tribute paid by the great Marlborough to the skill and science of that eminent engineer. The citadel stood proudly towering above all the various eminences. It bore the form of a S(|u;ne, and was the residence of the governor-general of the Canadas. Be- tween the citadel and the fortifications of the lower town there was a communication by several very rugged and frequently-interrupted passages, one of which, a long stair- case of many stone steps, was used lor the i)urj)ose of drawing up the heavy articles which were wanted by those occupying the citadel. Several batteries of k te if 1 Ui ■■—-*«*-tf .»- ««.■•«■•« -^-. t ii m y LlW r*'- 202 HAVERHILL. h ■I .ft :::kj n' It' i ors of the wilds of America. It will show what they were capable of achieving for love and affection, thus furnishing, in some measure, an offset to the undoubted records of their oftentimes not unreasonable spirit of wrath and re- venge. Due honour has seldom been rendered to the abo- rigines of North America — the " lion has had no painter." Their extreme fierceness and addictiveness to war have led superficial observers to suppose that they are entirely with- out the softer feelings of liumanity. It is a mistaken idea. Custom may have controlled, or prevented the exhibition of them, but their hearts wear the impression of many noble qualities. In Amherst's battalion there was a young ensign whose amiable deportment and good conduct, in the discharge of his duties, had procured for him the esteem of all who knew him. James Borlase was the fourth son of a poor curate, possessed of a living of forty pounds a year, in one df the poorest counties in England. It was his good fortune, liowever, while yet a mere boy, to attract the notice of a neighbouring gentleman of property and be- nevolent disposition, who, finding him possessed of fine talents and a most generous heart, took him home, and, after the fitting preparation, sent him to Cambridge with an allowance of money far beyond his requirements. He led a very studious life at college, and gained great praise by his progress in all the branches of academic learning. When he had finished his education, finding him disinclined to adopt the clerical profession — the church was his origi- nal destination — and bent upon entering the army, his kind benefactor purchased a commission for him in a regiment then under orders for Canada. The finger of ambition pointed to the east — it was there military honours were easiest acquired, and nowhere else could military men amass fortunes, but his parents, who, in surrendering the guardianship of their child, had not divested themselves of the love and affection which attend the parental relation, recollected that in British India, tigers, the cholera morbus, and all that sort of thing outrun preferment and money- making, and they prevailed on Charles to exchange the East for hyperborean regions. In one of our skirmishes with the savages, it was our '(■ what they were tlius furnishing, bted records of i" wrath and re- ared to the abo- lad no painter." to war have led re entirely with- a mistaken idea. 1 the exhibition >n of many noble jg ensign whose the discharge of eem of all who th son of a poor Is a year, in one t was his good , to attract the 'operty and be- ossessed of fine him home, and, I^ambridge with uirements. He ned great praise demic learning. 5 him disinclined ch was his origi- le army, his kind m in a regiment iger of ambition y honours were id military men surrendering the !d themselves of arental relation, cholera morbus, 3nt and money- ;o exchange the 'ages, it was our HAVERHILL. 203 fortune to take captive an Indian woman and her daughter, and they were brought to the camp. A negotiation for their release was set on foot by the tribe to which they be- longed, a large body of whom attended the ambassadors. \s the Indians never come near an assembly of white men without indulging in a fit of drunkenness, that is, if liquor can be procured, it was expected that they would abandon themselves as usual to a horrid revel, and oflicers were ap- pointed to watch over them, of whom Borlase was one. Vigilance and circumspection, qualities so essential to the rise of an unbefriended soldier, were the conspicuous traits of his mind, and, knowing their value, on these, together with prudent courage, he relied for advancement. Going out on his turn of observation late in the evening of the second day after the arrival of the Indians — upon the first, measures had been taken to keep them sober, — to that part of the camp where they were holding their festival of song, dance, and sacrifice, and with the proverbial single-mind- edness of drunken men, devoting their most valued pos- sessions to the worship of their gods, he saw the soldiers who had been set as a guard over them, ill-treating, both with harsh language and blows, the young Huron girl, whose friends, enfeebled by their debauch, no longer pos- sessed the power to protect her. The timid girl,— with the natural instinct which prompts us to fly from present dan- ger, though it may occasion us but trifling inconvenience to that more remote, yet beset with ruin and disgrace, — no sooner saw that there was a stranger approaching than she flew to his side, and with many tears and intreaties, be- sought his protection. She had learned a little English, nt made herself far more intelligible by her actions than 3r words. The young officer assured her that she should meet with no harm, and having succeeded in removing her fears and restoring her to cheerfulness and confidence, he remained protecting her until the soldiers had retirved, the English camp had become still, and the drunken sounds of her own people were hushed in the quiet that follows the Dverpowering draught. Satisfied with himself for the part he had taken, he set out upon his return to his quarters. He soon found that his dark little protegee had no inten- :>n of being shaken off* by him. She was continually at r-^ ^ l rt#«» . ^^ * f ■-*•, ;*• ;il W. II i H ri M 204 HAVERHILL. his side while returning, now looking up fondly in his face, upon which the various camp-fires threw a partial light, now taking his hand with an innocent laugh, and now skipping ahead with the lightness of the fawn, to ascertain, and make report of the best and nearest path. Fearing the ridicule of his military associates,-- -their ridi. cule is as easily excited as it is dangerous to excite it,— he attempted to persuade her, but in vain, to return to her own people. Upon his speaking in r;ither an angry tone, she fell to weeping bitterly. In spite of his remonstrances— the utmost length to which he could proceed — for a soldier, a kind-hearted one, too, would be ashamed to apply a whip to a woman — she accompanied him to his tent. When he had shut the door in her face, he supposed their acquaint- ance had terminated, and that he might congratulate him- self upon the withdrawal of those attentions which, if fur- ther persisted in, would be likely to draw down upon him a torrent of ridicule. Not so ; the next morning he found her sitting at the door of his tent, where she had passed the night. She welcomed him with all those symptoms of eawer delight with which children testify their joy at meet- ing friend's who have been absent from them for a long time, skipping about like a lamb, clapping her hands, and acting a thousand other extravagances, denoting the depth and fulness of her innocent joy at beholding her friend and protector. . Borlase had now an opportunity to examine her tea- tures, and I require full credit for my assertion that he had never beheld lovelier, or seen in one person a more splendid array of female charms than were exhibited in the face, form, walk, and air of this little Huron maiden. Ta- toka, or "the Antelope," as she was called, from the light- ness of her step, and well did she deserve the appellation, was not more than sixteen, yet she had shot up like the flowers of her native prairies, to the height which is only esteemed second to the loftiest of female statures in Euro- pean countries. Her skin was scarce darker than that of a very dark Italian lady, her teeth white and even, her eyes of a mild hazel, her hands and feet small and beautifully proportioned, and her long raven-black hair, as it swept her finely turned shoulders, was the most beautiful I had ever ^■mmr-^t:.. .-&-*■■.»• HAVERHILL. 205 seen. When to these charms was added that of loving him intensely, it is not strange that she made a very deep im- pression on his heart. Yet she was the daughter of an Indian, and though that Indian was a chief, and the ruler of a nation, the pride of the young soldier revolted at the thought of what would be said of him by his friends and connexions in England, should he marry an Indian. He continued, though at the expense of his feelings, to repress her fondness, and check by every means in his power her demonstrations of love. He said every thing which he thought likely to arouse her pride, or awaken her resent- ment, but in vain. She clung to him as a mother clings to her child, was cheerful and happy if permitted to ap- proach but as near to him as a dozen feet, but became frantic with grief if any attempt were made to force her from him. It was sweet, but affecting, and excited the pity and admiration of all whose hearts were not made of impene- trable stuff, to mark the movements of the gentle passion in this child of nature. I do not believe that in all the walks of romance in any of the fabled chronicles of love, there could be found any thing to surpass the apparent fervency of her affection — and no one for a moment supposed it assumed. If he walked out, she was at his side, or wheel- ing like a hound in playful circles around him ; if he re- posed, she was at his feet. If she was permitted to enter his tent, she did so ; if not, she sat down at the door, and awaited patiently the moment whcrr she could again see the face which, to use her own metaphofical language, was " more beautiful in the eyes of Tatoka than the sun, or the moon, or the stars, or the flowers." While he was eating his meals she sat by him, and watched every mouthful he ate with an appearance of the deepest satisfaction — but would eat nothing herself till he had done. She would then make it her first care to secure to herself the frag- ments of every thing he had touched, as if that touch had communicated to it an especial sweetness. It is known that the motive must be very strong which induces an Indian, of either sex, to pay any attention to cleanliness. They will bestow infinite care upon the adorn- ment of their persons, but there they pause, Tatoka was Vol. I.— 18 ■1 I '{> 206 HAVERniLL. \t 4.^ H •A- not, at the time of her introduction into our camp, more remarkable than the rest of lier race for that which will add a perfume even to the rose, which is always sweetest after a shower. But when the man she loTed had told her of the care wliich the women of his country bestowed upon cleanliness, and of their frequent ablutions of their persons, and changings of their dress, she exerted herself to give effect to her charms to an extent which would have made it a crying evil had there been any essential duty for it to interfere with. Thenceforth her ablutions were end- less. Every day, and it was all for him— how delightful the idea that one should be so beloved ! — the dressed her hair with beads, and flowers, and feathers, and laced up her rainbow-tinted moccasins with ribands, the gayest she could procure in a place where French taste presided. If he particularly noticed any flower, it was found and given him — if he bestowed a commendation warmer than usual upon any article of her dress, she said nothing, but thence- forth wore that alone till he intimated his wish that she should change it. Nature had taught her the power of music to soothe the mind when depressed, and whenever she saw the cloud upon his countenance which visits, more or less, the coun- tenances of all, she tried upon him the eflfect of song. At such times she would commence singing one of those wild, but beautiful and plaintive Indian melodies, which it is im- possible to translate into the English, or any other language, without losing much of their sweetness and effect. They are, in general, transcripts of feelings, or records of events, told in a style of simple and unadorned metaphor, and without an attempt at producing the "consonance of verses" which has imparted so much richness to the culti- vated languages. The following is one of the beautiful Ta- toka'ti songs. While it is characteristic, it serves to show the peculiar state of her feelings. It will be seen that all tlie metaphors are natural, and all the figures drawn from natural objects. Beautiful is he ! Oh, he is very beautiful ! I love him much, and ho To me is the tall oak -.s-ir .^r-K*. "^k'"*'lM(rt"' HAVERHILL. 207 ' camp, more lat which will iviiys sweetest d had told her itry bestowed itions of their xerted herself ch would iiave Bntial duty for ons were end- how delightful e dressed her id laced up her le gayest she ; presided. If und and given ner than usual ig, but thence- wish that she c to soothe the saw the cloud less, the coun- t of song. At 3 of those wild, which it is im- 3ther language, effect. They ;ords of events, metaphor, and consonance of 3SS to the culti- le beautiful Ta- serves to show )e seen that all es drawn from Which throws its long dark boughi O'er the swift streamlet's bank. He is to me the sun, And moon, and glittering stars Which shine so very bright, liighting up the skies at night, Making glad the birds. Making glad the flowers, Making all things glad. Beautiful is he ! Oh, he is very beautiful I Beautiful is he ! Oh, he is very beautiful ! Tall and graceful as the pine, Merry as the lark, Swifter than the buck, His eye the mountain goat's, His skin the water-lily's, His hair the western clouds at ftre, His lips a rose-leaf dew'd. Beautiful it he ! Oh, be is very beautiful ! Brave and good is he ! Oh, he is very good and br&ve ! And h« is very wise. And fit to be a chief; And he is very bold. And fit to lead a band Of Huron warriors, and to scalp A hundred of his foes. Cunning as a fox, Bloody as a wolf. Fearless as a carcajou. Keen-eyed as a hawk. Brave and good is he ! Oh, he is very good and brave ! Love him, how I do, Oh, how I do love him ; A mother loves her babe Not so as I love him; The warrior loves the battle shout Less than I love this Yengeese* boy. He does not know my love, Nor pities he my love, Because he does not love. Why will he not Tatoka love. The little Huron girl ? Beautiful is he ! Oh, he is very beautiful ! * Yengeese — English. I .1 -H % I' r S* 208 HAVERHILL. - » I- It seemed as if it were impossible for her to exist out of his sight. She continued to follow him whithersoever he ivent—she was at his feet when he sat down, near him when he rose, in his path when he walked, and at length by his side when he slept. If she left him for a moment, it was for the purpose of procuring something which should . further testify her atfection for him. It was now the sea- son of the earlier berries and wild fruit, and she was out for hours every day in the fields, gathering the ripest for him. Sometimes, while employed in tiie delightful task, it would occur to her that he might have gone away during her absence, when she would utter a loud scream, burst into tears, and run with the fleotncss of a deer, to see if the suspicion were true or not. Poor thing ! She had been found by him one of the lightest hearted beings that ever breathed, and now her whole soul was filled with sorrow and wretchedness, enlivened indeed by occasional but transient periods of perfect happiness. She became his companion— in the Canadian sense of the word — need I say more. U I CHAPTER XXV. Aftbr a couple of digressions, and not a little prosing, I find myself at leisure to attempt a description of the scenes of field and flood which ensued subsequent to the 30th of July. It was apparent that Montcalm was well aware of the object of our frequent manoeuvres, and that it was his determination to act upon the defensive, until famine and the ague should do for us what Macbeth wished them to do for the leaguerers of Glamis. Thus circumstanced, and knowing that delay would but enhance present diffi- culties, and be continually adding fresh ones, he came at length to the resolution of attacking them on the side of the Montmorency. The place where the attack was to be made was chosen r.|»*-*f.- mm r to exist out of litliersoever he nvn, near him , and at length for a moment, g which should s now the sea- iid she was out the ripest for elightful task, it le away during scream, burst :er, to see if the She had been cings that ever id with sorrow occasional but he became his word — need I I little prosing, cription of the sequent to the I aware of the hat it was his itil famine and ished them to jircumstanced, e present diffi- 5S, he came at on the side of de was chosen HAVERHILL. 209 with great judgment, though it is difficult to convey even a tolerable idea, and utterly impossible to give an exact des- cription of it. The banks of the Montmorency are very steep and precipitous, especially the left bank, which was held by the flower of the French army. But nobody thought of obstacles, and our troops, havmg ascended the St. Lawrence and landed at the mouth of the former river, erected batteries during the night of the 31st, on the high precipice north-east of the falls. Behold us, then, ready for and on the eve of action. Oh, how I hugged my (in ima- gination) glorious destiny ! I was lifted up to the skies at the thought that I should be handed down to future times as one of the " heroes of Montmorency," and already felt an epaulet sprouting upon each shoulder. I will not attempt to disguise that my dream of martial honour and prowess faded (the youthful will say brightened) into a vision of maiden love and beauty, and that Bellona for a moment laid aside her name, whip, torch, and dishevelled hair, to call herself Mary, aid to put a bridal-morning cap and ribands upon a head clustering with auburn ringlets. To describe the first movements of our troops in the offensive, I cannot do better than to adopt the clear and forcible language of the general, as contained in his cele- brated despatch of September 2d.* His words are: — " The 31st of July, in the afternoon, the boats of the fleet were filled with grenadiers and a part of General Monckton's brigade from the Point of Levi : the two brigades under the Brigadiers Townshend and Murray were ordered to be in readiness to pass the ford when it should be thought ne- cessary. To facilitate the passage of this corps, the admiral had placed the Centurion in the channel, so that * Horace Walpole censures ! this despatch strongly in his Memoirs. » In the most artful terms that could be framed, he (Wolfe) left the nation uncertain whether he meant to prepare an excuse for desisting, or to claim the melancholy merit of having sacrificed himself without a prospect of success." In a subsequent passage he rather seems to praise the fallen hero, but the commendation is clearly introduced for the purpose of attacking General Townshend, or rather, his brother Charles. I shall cause the letter alluded to by Walpole to be printed at the end of the work, tiiat my readers may see how little it deserves tb9 censure this writtr has bsstowed upon it. 18* f M m 210 UATERHILL. ■he might check the fire of the lower battery, which com- manded the ford. A great number of cannon were placed upon the eminence, so as to batter and enfilade the left of their intrenchments." These dispositions being made, every thing was in readi- ness for action. There was, near the water's edge, a detached redoubt, so fully commanded by the artillery of the enemy that it could neither be taken or kept without much bloodshed, and yet its possession was essential to our object of forcing a general action upon our adversaries. It was situated a little more than a musket-shot from their Erjncipal post ; should they contest its possession, it must ring on the battle we so ardently wished for ; should they make no opposition to its occupation by us, it would afford us the required opportunity to examine their situation, so as to be able to determine where we could best attack them. Yet, all-important as it was that we should possess this redoubt, the general long hesitated to attack it,— not from personal fear — he never knew the feeling, — but from a hope of accomplishing his object with a less effusion of blood than must attend the storming an intrenchment at such fearful odds. He took up his quarters on board one of the ships which he had caused to be anchored in the channel, abreast of the lower battery, and from this point employed himself in observation of the temper and move- ments of his opponents. He soon saw — how rapid and intuitive were his perceptions, and how wise and rational his deductions ! — that the dispositions and motions of our troops, our apparent eagerness and preparedness for com- bat, aided a little, perhaps, by sundry recollections of "lang syne," had thrown the enemy into considerable confusion, and deprived them of the soldier's best friend, self-possession. Remarking, withal, that our own army were prepared for action, were in high glee, and filled with brilliant anticipation of victory, he changed his mind,— which a few minutes before was occupied in planning the withdrawal of the troops,~and directed the attack to be made immediately. He despatched orders to Brigadier Monckton to have his corps in readiness to land, and to Brigadiers Townshend and Murray to pass the ford with their respective commands. i'Vll |r, which com- n were placed ado the left of f was in readi- iter's edge, a he artillery of kept without issential to our r adversaries, hot from their ission, it mugt ' ; should they it would afford situation, so as t attack them, i possess this it, — not from — but from a ss effusion of trenchment at on board one chored in the •om this point jer and move- ow rapid and 3 and rational lotions of our Iness for corn- collections of considerable 's best friend, ir own army and filled with I his mind, — I planning tiie attack to be to Brigadier ) land, and to the ford with HAVBMIILL. 211 The moment the tide was at half-flood the signal was given for the troops composing Monckton's brigade, with the others appointed to this important service, to land on the beach. But many difficulties occurred to delay them, and much time was lost. I have said there was a wide shoal or sandbank lining this side of the St. Lawrence ; at this point there was also a ledge running a considerable distance into the river, and upon this ledge, now partially hidden by the advancing tide, the boats, containing the elite of the division, grounded and held fast. This accident, perhaps, lost us the day. The enemy recovered his spirits, and ours were proportionably depressed. It threw our troops into disorder, lost us much time, and compelled the commander-in-chief to stop thejmarch of the two brigades across the ford at the moment they had plumed themselves with expectations of an easy and glorious victory. While the seamen were employed in getting the boats off, in which task they were assisted by the tide, or il had never been done, the enemy kept up a brisk fire, making much noise, evincing much anger, but doing little damage. " As soon" — I now use nearly the language of the despatch — " as this disorder could be set a little to rights, and the boats were ranged in a proper manner," the general, " accompanied by some of the officers of the navy, went on shore to endeavour to find a better place to land." One was soon found, presenting fewer natural obstacles than that we had at first chosen, and there the general, thinking it not too late for the attack, ordered the troops to disembark. Those which first got to land on that ill-starred day were the thirteen companies of grenadiers and two hun- dred of the second Royal American battalion. The order given was, that upon landing, the grenadiers should form themselves into four distinct bodies. As soon as it should be ascertained that Townshend and Murray had crossed the ford, they were to begin the attack, supported by Monckton's corps. But destiny — the soldier's ready apol- ogy for all his miscalculations and mischances — had ordered that Britons, upon this day, should see themselves worsted in the field. Whatever the cause were, whether from the noise and hurry at landing — but soldiers, one would think, should be moved by neither — their life is a life of noise 312 HAVERHILL. a If w 1^ and hurry, nnd a " quick step" one of their most important manuuuvrcs; whutevcr the cause were, the grenadiers, instead of forming themselves with the coolness and pre- cision expected of picked and veteran troops, ran on im- petuously towards tlie enemy's intrenchmcnts in the utmost disorder and confusion, without waiting for the corps which were to sustain them and join in the attack. They bore, in their march, a far greater resemblance to a company of boys just broke looje from a village-school than to a body of regular troops proceeding to the attack of a brave and well-disciplined foe. What could be expected but that which occurred 1 They were checked by the first fire from the enemy, and obliged to shelter themselves in and about the redoubt, — which the enemy abandoned upon their approach. Brigadier Town- shend, though marching with all possible expedition to join us, was yet at a distance which forbade his offering that which alone could be of service to us — immediate succour, and one brigade had not yet landed. In this very bad situation the grenadiers continued for some time, certainly more than half an hour, unable to form under the hot and falling fire, men falling by scores at every discharge of the 'rench musketry, and their gallant officers momentarily picked off with fatal aim. At length our brigade landed, and was drawn up on the beach. It was now that the general — I use his own words — " saw the absolute necessity of calling them (the grena- diers) 0% that they might form themselves under our corps." By one of those chances which make or mar men's fortunes, in the twiiikling of an eye covers us, perhaps, with the badges of orders, or pulls down the fabric which the labours of half a lifo have been required to build up, I — much out of the course of military doings, for such things are usually left to aids-de-camp, was deputed to bear the orders of the commander-in-chief for the immadiate retreat of the grenadiers. It was my first special mission. I had the good fortune to execute it, and to return unharmed. The battle of the Falls of Montmorency has never been called a defeat, but it was such. Our troops behaved themselves very badly on that day, but they made glorious amends for it by their conduct at the battle which won us Canada. ■ii Im HAVERHILL. 213 Tioit important lio gieimdicrs, )lncss and pre* ps, ran on im- s in tlic utmost le corps which They bore, a company of :han to a body f a brave and currcd? They jy, and obliged )t, — which the igadicr Town- edition to join I offering that id late succour, this very bad ime, certainly 2r the hot and scharge of the momentarily iwn up on the lis own words m (the grena- ler our corps." nen's fortunes, aps, with the ch the labours , I — much out ^s are usually the orders of retreat of the I. I had the larmed. as never been 3ops behaved made glorious which won us CHAPTER XXVI. At eight o'clock in the evening of the .31st of July, I was in the enjoyment of every liberty consistent with military discipline ; behold me, at ten the next morning, a prisoner to the fiercest and most savngc race of men that ever existed on the earth since the days of Tamerlane. I will narrate the story of my capture, and in so doing occupy as little space as possible. During the whole time that we had been encamped north-east of the falls, our flanks and outposts had been daily assailed by these, I might almost call them invisible, enemies. Let an individual stray after nightfall but fifty yards from our lines, and he was sure to be found without a scalp in the morning. Oftentimes, in the dead of night, their horrid yells would be suddenly raised within twenty rods of a principal battery. You knew not when to expect them, or where to look for them — in the language of an individual of that sagacious nation to which all bulls are ascribed, " When you had caught him, you found he was not there." It was far worse to deal with these subtle, perpetually-shifling, treacherous foes, than with their white allies. Their battle was more dreaded by our brave fel- lows than a contest with thrice the number of French would have been. Early the next morning after the battle, a large war-party of the Iroquoise tribe were seen hovering near one of our outposts, apparently waiting a favourable moment to make an attack. The general, who was watching their move- ments, called me to his side. " See those black rascals," said he ; " they are swarming in the vicinity of that post with no very civil intent, 1 think ; I will allow you an opportunity to distinguish yourself." Invested with the command of a hundred men, I set out to execute my commission. I led out my little army in pursuit of my antagonists, who kept retreating till they had ''ained the further end of a level plain, where, behind a range ti* decayed brush fences, they halted, apparently with the // J ) 'u'Me»:' 214 HAVERHILL. intention of giving us battle, should we advance into he plain. Battle was what we came for, but we should have sought it differently ; so putting our horses upon a smart trot, we rode towards their slight intrenchment, intending to use only our swords. We were met, at the distance of twenty rods or less, by a fire so lively and well-directed, that many of our men were killed, and we were compelled, for the time, to give way and retreat amid the terrible shouts and yells of our foes. A second time I led them on, burning with rage and disappointment, and was again met by the same destructive fire. We, that is the remnant of the detachment, were within ten rods of the fence, upon a full gallop, to leap it, and make quick work with our adversa- ries, when a ball, which came from an angle of the fence upon the right, struck me, and I fell senseless from my horse. How long I remained deprived of consciousness I cannot tell, but it could not have been long. When I me to myself, the first sight which met my eyes, the first sound which assailed my ears, was that made by a party of Indians running towards me — with their customary shouts of joy when victors — brandishing their clubs and toma- hawks, and making the most frightful gestures which can be imagined. I attempted to rise, with the intention of doing my best to repel them : flight was out of the question, for they are far swifter of foot than white men ; but my dizziness returned ; I found myself utterly incapable of making any resistance : and after several ineflfectual endea- vours to get upon my feet, I sunk down again, in that most painful and appalling of all conditions of being, when we are without the power to speak or move, yet know perfectly well what is taking place around us, and are as keenly alive to danger as if the faculties we have lost remained to us. It was doubtless the intention of the Indians, when they first came up, to despatch me at once ; for of all the wounded, perhaps twenty in number, only myself was spared. Two of them seized upon me at the same moment of time ; but while disputing to which of them I belonged, and which should surrender his claim, and before there was time for them to arbitrate their quarrel, according to their custom in such cases, by putting an end to my life, a young •warrior, who had borne himself with singular bravery in tho li:1t HAVSRHILL< 215 vance into he fe should have upon a smart lent, intending ;he distance of well-directed, ere compelled, id the terrible I led them on, was again met he remnant of fence, upon a th our adversa- le of the fence from my horse. jsness I cannot hen I me to the first sound by a party of stomary shoutg lbs and toma- res which can le intention of jf the question, men ; but my r incapable of ffectual endea- in, in that most eing, when we ve, yet know us, and are as we have lost Indians, when ; for of all the y myself was ! same moment jm I belonged, jfore there was ording to their ly life, a young bravery in the battle, interposed between me and the hatchets raised to despatch me. Three seconds later, and my mortal career had been ended; their keen and glittering tomahawks were descending to do their work when the voice of the young Indian, raised half in threat, half in supplication, led to the suspension of their purpose. My captors contented themselves with divesting me of my sword, pistols, hat, coat, trousers, and boots, and then left me, to busy themselves in their horrid work of carnage, scalping and slaughtering, with all the circumstances of barbarity which distinguish their warfare, the while sending forth shouts, which were heard even by that portion of our army who were encamped near two miles distant. While my captors had been employed in their usual labours, my deliverer had been intent only on recovering me from my stupor, and took no part in the murderoug game which was playing. My wound — a mere flesh wound, slight, yet productive of great pain, and occasioning much dizziness and lethargy, was in the head : he culled a handful of leaves and flowers, dug up some roots, and pounding the whole until it became a coagulated mass, bound it upon the wound, at the same time giving me a draught of a mixture intolerably bitter. I had sufficient consciousness to feel that the hand which was performing this kind office was a very friendly one-^friendly indeed ! else how had I been preserved amidst the indiscriminate slaughter. There was another person who seemed to take an ardent interest in my fate — it was an aged Indian woman. She stood a few yards from me ; and though it is forbid'^.-3n by the stern dictates of savage honour — the laws of a code which it is infamy to infringe — to evince sentiments of approbation at any act which shall lessen the amount of human suffering — though, " doing to others as he would wish to be done by," the Indian suffers men, especially when he means them kindly, to enjoy all possible opportu- nities of displaying the cardinal virtues of the Indian code of ethics, courage and intrepidity, — I say, notwithstanding this, I could perceive that she, as well as the young warrior, took a strong interest in my fate, and was prepared to pro- tect me from further injury. As the medicinal potion and plaster succeeded in removing the pain from my head and restoring my recollection, the f V • - ■«•^&^^**' ^'Ni#%iflC.«' 224 HAVEnillLL. 11 i*s; ,^ at some four feet distance from each other. The diamefPr of th,s crcle m,ght have been four or five reds Thenllt for precedency was guarded with as much care and Tell ousy as ,, ., ,„,„g ^j^^ ^ nobility Without the^cii old won en— I have seen pleasanter, were busvkinfllln«^^ bun's ll^o thon"' m- W^ble! we"e cutn"| a' rations for hi .^^"^' ^'''' ^^''I'^S^' Such were the prepa- rations for the amusements of the morning! amusements go up, too, for dur especial benefit. How I shudder when to Sit down " n"*^ 'r\'""r. "'^^^^' ^"d "^^de a sign for us throw a spear, we threw ours the far host vLT\^° ^eotraK;XShtL^;l-^fe,»»- * Yonondio. the French. t Corlaer, the English, ''•^-iK i i .t i i» -. ve ; so are UA.TERHILL. 225 wisdom against the wisdom of Corlacr, it was a crow set- S^g Uswit^gainBt a sparrow. We tried our strength agams his? ask tlie wolf which was the strongest? See ^le has a bone in his mouth-it is the thigh-bone ot Corlaer ! Brothers, I sneak true. " Brothers we remembered that we were the strongest, but we remembered that while we were provmg ourselves the strongest, many of our brothers laid do^"' ""«. "^^J rose agaim Our women have never ceased to P"t "s »« mind tf it. ' They sleep unrevengcd/ said our women. Brothers, our women spoke the words ot truth. » Brothers, we joined Yonondio to be revenged on Cor- laer We shall be revenged. Look, brothers, we have nrl oners. Our women have fixed a stake very strong in KTanh and see, they have brought together the dr^ branches of the hickory, and the pine, and the oak. It will ^'^Brothers, shall we be revenged on Corlaer? we shall. ' ^tXlZ'^^ll^^^Xme^ his blanket aroundhim and sat down, without venturing a glance upon his silent ^"Another warrior rose, and indulged in a similar recapitu. lation of iniuries. His was a more minute statement ol the real oiupposed wrongs of his people, and he was evi- dentlv even mire subtle than his predecessor He painted ?he sufferLgs of the women and children when their habi- ations were burnt by the English, and themselves turned ou in the midst of an inclement winter. Hejipoke of the Euryhig^places which the EngUshman's plough had turned UD and the sacred ashes which had been thereby given to the winds. His speech produced a more obvious effect than that of the first speaker, and the assembly began to grow impatient for the performance of the promised rite ^Meanwhile, many of the inhabitants of Quebec, and a lame number of French officers, had collected to witness he specrcle. It will be remembered by those conyer- sa^wUh the early history of the French in America, that r eStiori was one they took such delight in, that not a few were got up at their own special instance and sug- ^^ NotWng further was wanting to rouse the Indians to the *,'-%«i' 226 HAVERHIU.. proper degree of excitement but a son^, and this we had Mu«,c has a wonderful effect on these savages; the same havVton I r'" %r''^ cireumstan^e) kre said^o ripnrnT? '"""••„ ^''"^ ^"^-song, chanted by an expo- r enced warrior, will at once and at any time rouse all Uic dormant energies of an Indian. ^ " their nnr""P"^''^rr'"'l"!*^"''^^ ^^^ rhythmical appeal to their passions. The whole band, the entire camn were m motion at once, and clamorous ti iatiate leir vTngeance so WeT'^r P'-'^'l^^^-J'^y of their being permi tefl odo andtllLeS Tt' ^^ ^'^'"n « ^w ?eit of the .take, motiv nno I , ."^""^ "^"^ ^^"'^ ''»« '"O'nent when if any dared tST ' 'T"" "">^ r ^*^*^'^ P"««"^r« ^t was de^ .iited i Sh '*'' r"' '*'" ««^«"d«"t-''e was first re- jpited. A mother, whose son had fallen at the sieee of petroit, two years before, came forward, and afler gfvinJ him two or three sound knocks upon the head, by w^av of paying his ransom, cut the thongs with which they had se cured his hinb8,and he stood free ^ ^ I!^^u"'"i^'''*' »""''ther— by the soul of me, what does the ould body mane " roared Paddy, rubbing the sporupon which his new mistress had laid the purchas^monev and aughmg most heartily-by-the-by, he had never ceased laughing since our capture.-" And sure the cratur is udy enough wid her wicked looks-the murthersome ould soSf ^ut, Teddy, you are to take no part in yonder horrid spectacle-remember that and be thankful," ST K.^o ^""^ 1 m agreeable ;-yet the strange ould body might have passed the affront to my head and shouther, she^S And the raps on my knuckles are nothing at all at aU hke ^he love-taps we get in Tipperary." The oldjvoman grew anxious to carry away her nrnn erty ; and Teddy left us with a hearty laugh oTL hp? aTj apparently as happy as if he had been drinking whK"„ an Irish shealing. Uncle Rufus's nephew was also liberafed to supply the place of an Indian husband who had fallen in a recent domestic quarrel. Macgillicuddy, myS She Huron were doomed to the death of fire. ^ As being first in the scale of being, and the one unon whom they were most desirous to glutfhei? vengeanceT^S from whom the courage, which done could SXem ■ ■'■^^■.«*JRifc»«''-*(»A,,t. . nAV^RHILL. 227 sport, was most expected, they led the Indian warrior to the pile. His conduct on this occasion afforded another proof of what precept and cxam[)le may do, when acting upon indomitable pride and a wild spirit of chivalry. Not a muscle of his face was relaxed ; his demeanour was as calm as if he had been about the ordinary avocations of peace. In the midst of tortures, which were refinements on the barbarities of Sergius and Procopius, and the inqui- sitions of Spain and Goa, not a muscle of his face was seen to move involuntarily. lie sung his boastful war-song, in which he recounted the brave actions he had performed at the expense of his captors, the stratagems by which he had surprised and destroyed them — the barbarous methods by which he had put his prisoners to death, in tones as steady and full as if he had been paying a tribute to the beauty of his mistress. The inflexions of his voice were as numerous and as easily noted as ever, and the roll of his eye was as steady and undisturbed. The following is a literal translation of his death-song : THE LITTLE FOX'S DEATH-SONG. •♦ Down I took my spear — my tough spear ; Down I took my bow — my good bow ; Fill'd my quiver with sharp arrowi, Slung my hatchet to my shoulder, Forth I wandor'd to the v. Id wood. Who comes yonder ? * Ha ! I know him by his feather — Leader of the Iroquoise. And he comes to dip that feather In a vanquished Huron's blood. '« Then I pois'd my tough ash spear ; Tken I bent my pride of bows ; « From my quiver drew an arrow, — • Raifl'd my war-cry ; — ha ! he falls. From his crest I took the feather ; From his crown 1 tore the scalp-lock. Shout his friends their cry of vengeance ! What avails it ? Are they eagles ? Naught else can o'ertak* the Huron. *« Why should I fear to die ? I never told a lie : Kind have I been to father and to mother> I never turned my bask upon a foe. » ' I slew my people's enemies- Why should I fear to die ? * .^ niw- rg- ,i»ii w « 11 mi" 'i n i .ji » > i J /* ;1 228 HAVERHILL. Kindle, then, your flames around me ; Tear the flesh with heated pincera, Probe me with a burning arrow ; I can teach a coward Mohawk How a valiant man should die." The horrors which followed the proclamation of the wrongs he had done them are too revolting to paint; Not the plucking out of his nails, searing hi» eyeballs, tearing 1)ieces out of his body with red-hot pincers, could force a engthened respiration from him. Meanwhile he continued his death-song, with a countenance steady and calm as in the ordinary transactions of life. I stood for a considera- ble part of the time within five or six feet — as near as the fire would let me be, of him, and I am sure 1 should have evinced less fortitude at the drawing of one oifmy teeth by an unskilful dentist than he did at torments which the in genuity of a host of fiends would have been at a loss tc parallel. They subjected Donald to very little torture, for he bel lowed Uke a bull at the first touch of the flame ; after whicl unmanly exhibition of weakness, they considered him un worthy of further notice, and gave him up to the wome? and boys. These diverted themselves with the haple Scotchman for a few minutes, but there being nothing ht roic in his behaviour to stimulate them, and no whet t their cruelty, for he uttered neither taunts nor reproaches, they grew weary of him, and soon despatched him : happy Donald I The day was now near its close, and having had sufli cient sport for that time, they concluded to defer my share of the exhibition till the morrow. I was carried back tc the cabin from which I had been taken in the morping, the guard resumed its care of me, and victuals was broiight me — ^this time not in a sufficient quantity to enable me to make a full meal, but enough to keep me from starving. They then left me to repose — such repose as may be taken by one who has witnessed a spectacle like that I have de- scribed, anci knows that with another sun he will become the subject of a similar practice and catastrophe. KND op VOL. I. ndme; cera, iw; proclamation of the olting to paint; Not hig eyeballs, tearing incers, could force a mwhile he continued eady and calm as in ood for a considera- feet — as near as the I sure I should have •f one of my teeth by ments which the in ^e been at a loss tc e torture, for he bel aflame; after whicl considered him un n up to the wome? es with the haple :e being nothing ht !m, and no whet t jnts nor reproaches, )atched him : happy id having had suffi id to defer my shart vas carried back tc I in the morning, the jals was brought me 3 enable me to make )m starving. They as may be taken by like that I have de- sun he will become tastrophe. \ -e