THE
GR EE N  MOUNTAIN








THE
GREEN MOUNTAIN
E~rabevtes s' (fttrtaam   t+
BY JOSIAH BARNES, Ss.)
NEW YORK:
DERBY & JACKSON, 498 BROADWAY.
1861.




ENTERED according to Act of Congress, in the year 1855, by
J. C. DERBY,
-k the Clerk's cge of the District Court for the Southern District of New York.
W  H1. TlNsoN, Stereotyper                    PUDNEY & RUBSELL, Printern




A FEW preliminary words, dear reader, which you
can run over in less than a minute.
There is one thing certain of writers: they cannot
hide their imperfections. Defenseless individuals they
are, and it would seem that they ought on that
account alone to be charitably contemplated. Moreover they work for the gratification of their fellowssearching heaven and earth-often times the other
place, too —for things which they may reduce to
communicable shape. They wear out brain, muscle
— turn night into day, and shed ink incalculably.
All this they do with the fear of the Public constantly
before their eyes, and with a nice regard to the
Public's wants. Are they not entitled to charity?
If they are not, I, as an humble, self-styled member
of the fraternity, distinctly state, that I don't know
why.
The book which you are now going to read (if
according to Todd's advice you are reading_ the
preface first) ig just what it is-imperfect in many
places, yet as a whole pretty much what I expected
to make it. I started out with the intention of pro



Vi                  PREFACE.
ducing something that all those who read for amusement merely would find acceptable. I hope I have
succeeded. I have worked hard enough for it, I know.
I have woriked earnestly, too. The characters which
you will meet with have not been mere idle phantoms
to me. I have laughed and I have wept with them.
The thread of their lives has been mine. And they
have not passed away. Oh, no! They live as really
to my soul as the friend who sits beside me now.
But I will not tire you. I want you to begin fresh.
And I want you to read right along, too. When you
discover a fault, don't let your mind dwell upon it;
for if you do, you'll miss the spirit of all that follows,
make yourself sour, and pain me-if I should ever
know it.
With my best wishes,
J. B. SEN.




INTRODUCTORY CHAPTER.
i, Storm-The Old Inn-The Writer esconced for the Night-lIis Introduction to a company of Fellow Travellers-A systematic Entertainment proposed-Proposition accepted, and a Person chosen to lead off..............   6
CHAPTER II.
THE LITTLE DRY MAN'S STORY.
His Birth-Childhood-Youth-His getting in Love-Rivalship-Grievous Disappointment-CrimeL-Journey to Naples-Return-Intolerable Remorse,Self-Banishment to Germany-Second Love-Marriage-Death of his WifeReturn of Remorse-Dissipation-Ruin-Salvation from imminent DeathReturn home-Wandering again to escape the Pangs of the undying Worm.. 21
CHAPTER III.
THE SUPPOSED LAWYER'S STORY.
His leaving Home-Short Experience in the Cityr-Going to Sea-A StormWreck..................................................................  64
CHAPTER IV.
SUPPOSED LAWYER'S STORY CONTINUED.
Going again to Sea-Monotonous Experience-Adventure with Pirates-Preo
sentiment-Dream-Struggle for Life-Thrilling Sequel...................




Viii                        CONTENTS.
CHAPTER V.
Incidents of a Day at the Old Inn-Renewal of the Entertainment............  153
CHAPTER VI.
THE QUAKER'S STORY.
His Childhood-Seraph-The light-colored Lie-Seraph's Death-His GriefNew Acquaintance-Joshua-Story about old Doctor Shaum-Renewal of old
Acquaintance under other Circumstances-Fanny, and so forth-A good
deal of it.......................................................... 164
CHAPTER VII.
QUAKER'S STORY CONTINUED.
His Youth-Studies Medicine-Malpractice of one S. Toom-Great Tribulation-Gradual Emancipation-Sweet Things-Presentiments-Goes to Europe
-Further Malpractice of S. Toom-Detained Prisoner of War-Return Home
-Overwhelming Grief-Despair-Ray of Light-Happy Ending..........  288
CHAPTER VIII.
ELLEN'S GRAVE.
The Child-The Maiden-Ruin-Death......... —.............. -... 81




THE
G REEN MOUN TAIN
TRAVELLERS' ENTERTAINMENT.
EINTRODUCTOIRY CHAPTER.
FROM an old memorandum book, lying in my
drawer, I find -that in the summer of 1836 I was
travelling in the State of Vermont. My route lay
to the northwest from MIontpelier, through a sterile
and thinly populated district. For want of a more
expeditious and luxurious mode of conveyance, I was
travelling on horseback.
The day had been fair and agreeable throughout;
but as the sun drew near his setting, an ominous sign,
in the shape of a long black cloud, loomed slowly
from the western horizon. It grew larger as it arose —




10              GREEN MOUNTAIN
blacker, broader, like a rising hemisphere, seemingly
annihilating the golden sky in its course. The sun
wFent down behind it, setting a resplendent diadem
upon its great brow, which, however, soon faded, and
the night came on gloomily. Red flashes from time
to time lit up the rugged depths of that majestically
rising cloud, and an oppressive stillness came down
like the dew. Fascinated and absorbed with the
imposing spectacle, which the playful lightnings revealed, I rode on leisurely, not noticing that the
night had fully set in. A brighter flash, centered with
a darting gleam, startled me from my reverie; and as
the heavy thunder lumbered away with its fast-increasing train of echoes, I spurred my horse into a gallop.
An hour or so before, a pedestrian had informed
me that I would find a public house about three miles
ahead. Unhappily for me, my informant had chanced
to be an honest Dutchman, lately arrived in the land
of pumpkins and wooden condiments, and therefore
spoke of miles in that transcendental sense which is
the fashion of his country. This I was not aware of
at the time, and had, with commendable sincerity,
construed his answer to mean three English miles.
Where is the public house?  was my first thought, on




TRAVELLERS' ENTERTAINMENT.     11
getting my horse fairly into a gallop. Surely my
three miles are up, I continued, seeing nothing in any
direction that resembled a habitation of man. But
the darkness limited my investigations, and I was left
to push on along the narrow unfenced path, trusting
for safety to my horse's sagacity, and to my own
judgment, spasmodically enlightened by the fastincreasing flashes of lightning.
On I went at a rapid rate, calculating the distance
I should be able to ride, after the rain should have
seriously commenced, before my summer suit would
cease to be protection against the torrent. On, on.
The heavy voice of the angry storm coming to meet
me, the pealing thunder, the quick gleams that lit up
the rolling, tumbling, distracted mass overhead, saggested every moment the increasing necessity of
shelter. Yet no shelter appeared. I reined my
horse to a walk once, thinking that I saw a house;
but the next flash proved it an illusion. Again,
under full speed, I rushed along, leaving the superintendence of locomotion wholly to my horse, being
absorbed myself in directing my vision most wistfully
for some memento of man. But the livid lightning
revealed nothing besides livid wastes of little. hills




12              GREEN MOUNTAIN
and stony plains. At length my horse gave signs of
fatigue, which I knew, from his mettle, had been concealed to the utmost, and would be followed by a
general giving out. I had scarcely become conscious
of this new'feature in my dilemma, when the big,
precursory drops began to fall. " Alas! it is inevitable," I said to myself, and, like a wise man, added,
"' let it come!" And it came-hail first, pelting remorselessly, thereafter a great flood, suffocatingly
wet. I reined my horse to a disguised trot, which he
voluntarily merged into a walk, and composed my
inner man in accordance with the best philosophy I
could summon at the moment. For a full hour I rode
on.  Still it rained-still no public house.  My
clothes and skin had almost, from the first dash, been
so intimately connected, that they seemed equally
parts of my body; and from my hands and feet, and
all other possible extremities, ran steady streams of
the liquid element. Human dignity had taken solemn
fight, and human patience-even the very patient
portion which I possessed-was about following,
when the rain suddenly ceased, and the moon as suddenly came forth, revealing to me, among other
things of less interest, the long-wished-for public




TIRAVELLERS' ENTERTAINMENT.    13
house. It was hard by. A few minutes brought me
to it,'and a few more minutes found me with a dry
suit on, and a dry yet fragrant cigar in my mouth.
I sat down calmly by the capacious fire-place, and
poking open the slumbering embers, I stroked the insides of my legs, and felt anxiety and ill-humor
creeping up to my scalp, there to disappear in my
hair, and comfort, like a full gush of sunshine, taking
their place.  I imbibed two or three draughts of
soothing pleasure from my cigar, and looked around
the room. It was a large one, and utterly devoid of
even the semblance of ornament.  The bare joists
were smoked to perfection of brown, and the walls,
which were of hewn logs, were of the same hue,
modified and varied with occasional material accumulations from  "man and beast."  The fireplace was
large enough to typify the " broad road" of psalmodic
memory, and was made of stone without mortar.
A row of benches-the homnceopathic dilution of an
architectural idea, ran along the four sides of the
room, interrupted- only by a square box in one corner, which reminded me of that box where men
sometimes speak the truth. In the box was a lean,
blear-eyed, long-nosed, long-haired, long-figured,




14              GREEN MOUNTAIN
on-the-whole-quite-unprepossessing young man. On
two sides of him were ranged on four shelves about a
score of bottles and decanters of various shapes and
sizes. A big tumbler-bless the generosity of a bygone age!-set upon the front edge of the box, which
edge, for convenience, I suppose, was made about six
inches wide. Over the young man's head hung a
plain, heavy-looking gun, accompanied with a powder
flask, which might have served for the horn of plenty.
There were but two chairs in the room, both of which
were as rigidly plain as an axe could make them. In
one' of those chairs I sat; and, after finishing my
local survey, I again rubbed my legs, and felt bad
humor travelling towards my hair, and fresh comfort
warming me all over.
"Bad storm to-night," said I to the lean young
man, my excess of comfort having overcome my prepossession against him.
" I guess yew orter know," he responded, with a
sort of starved grin.
"Many travellers lodge here to-night?" I hastened
to inquire.
"Five'r six'r half a dozen, p'rhaps," he briefly answered, looking towards the outside door.




TRAVELLERS' ENTERTAINMENT.      15
"Where are they?" I asked, with another flush of
comfort; for I had experience enough in travelling to
know that where half a dozen wayfaring men are met
together, there is also the spirit of something not altogether barren.
"Perhaps yew'd like to see'em," politely anticipated my box acquaintance.
"I would," said I, rising, and walking towards
him.
" They're in the stoop out front," he began, coming
out of his place, and walking, with great earnest strides,
to the outside door. I followed.
"There," said he, pointing to the more distant end
of the covered platform, and wheeling, strode back to
his stronghold.
Left to introduce myself, I walked forward. I drew
near unobserved, for two of the company were engaged in a discussion which fastened the attention of
the rest. There were six of them. The first that
attracted my attention was the one who was speaking
at the moment. His dress was cut after the Quaker
fashion, yet he was smoothly shaven and decently
shorn, and his speech had all the elegant intonation
and grammatical correctness of scholastic refinement.




16              CGREEN MOUNTAIN
I was strongly prepossessed in his favor at the first
glance, for I clearly perceived, in his easy, elegant
manner, a geniality, and a quiet, fascinating humor
which indicated that he had learned the true lesson of
life by heart, and bore it as an amulet about him.
His antagonist in debate appeared to be a lawyer.
The tautology and mechanical arrangement of his
speech, as well as his declamatory manner, indicated
it. He was a stoutly built man, with thick, nicely
turned side-whiskers, and a cut of lip that spoke of
dignified resolution; and when I saw his heavy hand
descend upon his stalwart thigh, to give emphasis to
his suppressed tones, I fancied it might strike mortal
blows where great things should be at stake.
Among the listeners was a rotund, floiid-faced,
semi-centenarian. He appeared to be quite bald in
the moonlight that night, with his hat off. There
were deep crescent wrinkles in his cheeks and brow,
which showed how natural it had always been for him
to laugh, even at things too stale for other men. His
eyes were large and staring, like a fish's; and as I
looked at him, sitting there resting his chin upon the
head of his cane, gazing intently at the disputants, his
face bearing that stereotyped expression of jollity




TRAVELLE{RS' ENTERTAINMENT.     17
which seemed to mock the seriousness that had taken
possession of him, I could not help but laugh a little
in secret. By his side sat a small man, and a most
singular phenomenon he was. He had the appearance
of having been smoked and dried to the last degree
consistent with physical life. His hair was dry and
thin, as were also his garments. The skin of his face
was most unreasonably and inextricably wrinkled,
and his mouth and eyes were greatly sunken. But
there was a fillness in.his brow and a quickness in his
eye that betokened something not manifested by the
rest of his person. The remaining two were staunch
farmer-like looking men, who had undoubtedly done
good service to themselves, their families, and their
country, yet were too modest to allude to it, or to
anything else when there was an opportunity to listen.
Such were the " five'r six,'r half dozen" travellers
whom my lean acquaintance had pointed out. After
listening for a few minutes to the discussion, which
from a serious political argument was passing rapidly
to a mere play of words for the amusement of the
listeners, I determined to advance and take an active
part in the conversation, being somewhat addicted to
political' wrangling.




18              GREEN MOUNTAIN
While debating within as to the appropriate manner of introducing myself, I became aware of the disagreeable shortness of my cigar. Not to be embarrassed
by any unnecessary hindrance I plucked it from my
mouth, and from a cursory view, seeing no more
eligible direction, I squared myself to throw it over
the heads of the parties disputing. I stood about ten
feet from them, and not calculating the distance properly, I had the unspeakable mortification of seeing the
fiery stub take its own course, which proved so wide
from the one I had intended, that it struck with
remarkable precision upon the nasal organ of the elegant Quaker. It was the work of but an instant to step
forward, and most humbly and seriously apologize, for
I was really very much mortified. He looked upon
me with a good-natured smile, and said, " My friend,
put a little more powder to your shot next time;
shooting below the mark is a very common misfortune
in this world," and wiping his soiled nose with great
nicety, he put the whole affair into his pocket with
his handkerchief.
"But," said I, "let me offer some slight atonement
to you and to the company for the interruption I have
caused to your entertainment. Will any or all of you




TRAVELLERS' ENTERTAINMENT.    19
step in and take a cigar-in condemoration," I continued with an effort of pleasantry, " of the most uncivil
deed just committed?" They responded unanimously
in favor of my proposition, and we all went in and
took peaceable possession of seven good cigars. By
common consent we remained in the bar-room, and I
became at once an accepted member of the company.
We all sat in silence for some minutes, each smok.
ing and spitting after his own individual manner
At length the silence, which was reaching quite an
unpromising depth, was broken all to smash by the
supposed lawyer's bursting out, " Well, gentlemen of
-this-present company, what's to be done? This
won't do. Hiere are six-seven cigars going like so
many steam mills, and nothing but smoke being
turned out, eh?".
"I suggest," piped in the little dry man, with a
voice and manner that reminded me vividly of a
choked hen —'" I suggest that some one be appointed
to tell a story."
"Then you hit it," responded the first speaker, emphatically. A general shifting of legs and discharge
of saliva betokened the approval with which the sug.
gestion was met by the rest.




20              GREEN MOUNTAIN
"And, moreover," I ventured to add, "let us
organize and proceed regularly to the appointmnent."
"Agreed!" closed in the lawyer. "Here I am,
now, in this chair, president.  Let's have  the
motion."
"But," -   commenced some one —
"Waiving all irregularities as to my getting my
office," interrupted the lawyer, "let's have the
motion."
Without further preliminary ado, a motion was
made, seconded, and passed, to wit-that he, the president, be vested with the power of appointing the
first one to attempt the proposed entertainment.
Whereupon he said, " Well, let's see. The first, of
course, will be a victim. I'll punish the suggestor.
Sir!" addressing the dry man, " you I appoint, in
virtue of my delegated power, to narrate a tale for
the amusement of this present company. Proceed to
your duty, and the Lord have mercy upon you."
We all laughed a little at the bombastic pleasantry
Df the president; and, when entire silence was restored, the dry man removed his cigar from his mouth,
and, with a dignity and precision that surprised mne,
spoke in the substance of the following chapter.




TRAVELLERS') ENTERiTAINMENT.   21
CHAPTER II.
MR. PRESIDENT AND GENTLEMEN.-YOU require a
hard thing of me. I am no story-teller. I am not
social. I have not that gush of fellow-feeling which
so warms the heart and makes brilliant the intellect.
I have lost it all. Gone, gone with sunny days once
mine. I am a gloomy man, yet I do not wish to
communicate my gloom to you. Oh! far from it. I
have suggested a thing here to-night, which I hoped
might make the time pass more smoothly. I had no
intention of taking a part, except as a listener. And
now that I am forced to take the part which, by my
consent, devolves upon me, I know not that I shall be
able to forward the design I had in making the suggestion. I have no trivial tale to relate. I know
none. There is but one story in my mind. It is the
story of my life. If you will hear that, listen. I will
be brief. I wish you could excuse me. Yet it will
not be without a certain pleasure-a bitter, melan



22              GREEN MOUNTAIN
choly pleasure indeed, but still a pleasure-for me -to
tell you what has been my lot in this world.
I was an only child. I was born at sea, on board a
vessel from Liverpool, bound for Calcutta. An old
sailor, who made some pretensions to astrological erudition, remarked on deck, after hearing that a child had
just come into the world in the cabin below, " God
forbid! That child had better never been born. iHe
will have a heavy sea to ride. Let them look well
to his build." This my father told me many years
after, as I bent to receive his dying blessing.
MlVy father was at the time of my birth engaged in
the East India trade. He had been peculiarly prosperous, and was the possessor of an immense fortune.
Yet unsatisfied, he had again risked the dangers of
the sea and a tropical climate, to add a few more
thousands to his almost boundless wealth. My mother
had always accompanied him in his voyages, choosing
to risk her life rather than suffer the pangs of anxiety
during his absence. I remember but little about her,
for we were not long together.  God grant that we
may meet again!  I might forget the past in her
serene presence.
My childhood was pretty much like other child



TRAVELLERS' ENTERTAINMENT.     23
hoods, I suppose. Yet there are two incidents, very
vivid'h my memory, which happily do not always
make a part of children's experience. The first which
I shall relate was an adventure in which I"m ost singularly escaped a horrible death.
My father was very fond of filling up his leisure
with hunting. He wats a daring man, and had the
reputation of being the sharpest shot in all the region
round about. He rode, on his hunting excursions, a
powerful and well-trained horse, whose nimbleness,
and almost human sagacity, had been of essential service to him in many a bloody and desperate encounter with that most ferocious and dreadful of wild
beasts —the tiger.
I think I must have been about five years old, when
one morning, as my father was preparing for his customary hunting excursion, I took it into my head to
accompany him. I accordingly laid my wish before
him, and was astonished to find that he would not hear
to it at all. I pressed into service every means of
persuasion I could muster, but he only patted my
head, and told me to go to my mother now, and I
should hunt when I should get to be a big man like
himself. This did not satisfy me, and I went away




24:            GREEN MOUNTAIN
grumbling, and determined to go anyhow. I watched
the direction they took, and arming myself wih a toy
spring-gun I set out after them. I was soon outs of
sight of my father's house, toiling on with great imaginary bravery along the beaten track worn by the
hunters in their frequent excursions from town. As 1
was strutting along, entirely impregnable to the idea
that I might get lost, I came to a narrow path leading
off from the main track, which had such a cool, leafy,
romantic appearance that I took it, and pursued its
course for perhaps an hour, when it suddenly ended
in a dark pool to which not a bit of sunshine penetrated. For the first time I began to feel uneasy. I
began bt think about my mother and home, and- con.
tinued to think about them until I was overcome with
the feeling, and cried heartily. Crying relieved me
and made me brave again, and I took up the springgun, which I had thrown down in my incipient despair, -determined to make my way back to the
main track. I went on very vigorously for some time,
growing very impatient at the seemingly interminable
length of the narrow, crooked path before me.: Finally I became sensible of fatigue. It gained rapidly
upon me, and soon my aching limbs gave out entirely,




TRAVYELLERS ENTER1TAINMENT.   25
and I sank down by a thick growth of underbrush, my
head swimming and my eyes pierced with keen pains.
The exquisite gratification sitting down gave me made
me think for a while I would never get up again.
I sat there some considerable time, and, at last
being rested, I began again to think of my home, and
with the thought came an awful sense of fear. Cold
sweat started out all over me. I jumped up and
seized my little gun, but quickly dropped it, for I felt
something cold and slimy contract suddenly in my
hand. Fortunate it was that instinct served me so
promptly and faithfully, for a viper of the most deadly
character shot away through the dead leaves like an
arrow. I had grasped it in my hand! I again picked
up my gun and trudged on-this time with no notion
whatever which direction I was taking, and with no
purpose except to get along-a vague idea that I
should get home before dark being the only thought
of my mind. How long, how very long was that
afternoon! As I toiled on a kind of insensibility came
over me. I neither cried nor felt afraid; and I really
began to feel that the woods were not so very bad a
place after all. Towards sunset, as I sat by a large
decaying log, busied with plucking some tiny flowers
2




26              GREEN MOUNTAIN
for my mother, who I knew was very fond of them,
I felt myself suddenly seized by some irresistible power
and borne away through the thicket with a wild rush
which so bewildered me that I could not stir a limb.
I had never seen a tiger alive, but I instinctively felt
I was in the jaws of one. Fortunately my clothes
held the weight of my body, for his keen teeth had
only seized on them. Had my clothes given way the
second hold would have been more secure! I had
just recovered from the first shock sufficiently to be
fully conscious of my situation, when I felt a stinging
sensation in my head, and I remember no more until
I found myself in the arms of my father. I heard him
relate the circumstance of my rescue to my mother that
night. The party was returning from an. unsuccessful
hunt, my father being about a hundred yards in advance. Coming out of a jungle he saw a huge tiger
with something in its mouth, stealing along the opposite side of the glade upon which he had just entered.
His horse saw it at the same instant, and started off
unbidden in full pursuit.  The action of the horse
surprised my father, for it was a part of its training
never to commence pursuit voluntarily. From the
nature of the ground my father was aware that par




TRAVELLIRS ENTERTAINMENT.     27
suit would be not only fruitless but dangerous; and,
after permitting the caprice for a few moments, he
attempted to reiA in the horse for the purpose of
rejoining the company. To his surprise he found
himself unable to do it.  The horse seemed in a
frenzy-so fierce was its eagerness to overtake the
wild beast.
After two or three unsuccessful attempts to stop or
divert the horse, which, though at an alarming speed,
did not gain upon the tiger, my father gave a sign for
the company to follow, and yielded himself to the
direction of his horse. A few moments more and the
tiger turned to cross the glade, which was long and
narrow. It was in fair view. It was the only chance,
for the tiger was evidently making for the thicket,
which at that time of day would effectually shield it
from further pursuit. Though at an unusual distance
he determined to have a shot. Utterly unconscious
of the to him infinite importance of that shot, he fired
carelessly; but some good angel had touched his
nerves, and the bullet pierced the heart of the bounding tiger. It gave a tremendous leap in the air, and
fell dead. "Thanks to the noble horse!" said my
father. He would not say it now!




28             GREEN MOUNTAIN
The second incident that varied the monotony ot
my childhood, was the death of my very dear mother.
With hei' sunk a star which mig4t have led me to
another destiny.  She died a few days before the
anticipated final departure of us all to England. IHer
illness was short, and her death quite unexpected, as
i have often heard my father say. I remember, with
the utmost distinctness, though but in my sixth year,
how she looked when clothed for the grave, and how
my father wept, standing beside her. I had never
before seen my father weep, and it was a terrible sight
to me. I remember asking him why he talked to my
poor mother, as I called her, who was dead, and could
not hear him; and I wondered why he took me up
when I said that, and hugged me so long. But I
understand all those things now; how clearly my
story will show.
Soon after my mother's death, my father, with me,
embarked for England, where we arrived, after a
prosperous voyage. I was directly placed under the
grim supervision of a teacher of Greek and Latin,
and urged through the usual course preparatory to the
acquiring of my vernacular. Solemn days grew into
solemn weeks; and the latter built up montis —tedi



TAV'I II'ELL'ItS& ENTE'rTAININT.  29
ous months from which came years-two long years,
of which. I have but a cloudy remembrance, relieved
by occasional beams of sunshine, when I was permitted to go with my father, who seemed to have no control over me, into the country, to spend a week after
the manner of joyous childhood. At the end- of tile
two years Iwas placed under another teacher, who was
more mild and genial, and who improved upon the
soil) so manured and harrowed by the former husbandman of young mind, by sowing therein seeds of more
practical knowledge. With him I acquired considerable proficiency in reading, writing, and speaking,
according to rule, my mother tongue. I remained
with him, off and on, a long time-seven years, I
think, and left his roof to enter upon the treadmill
course of " collegiate education." Being of an active
turn, and quick to imbibe, I soon attracted considerable attention in that palace of words and diagrams,
called Oxford University; but it was short-lived. I
soon tired of committing Latin paragraphs and Greek
stanzas, and exhibiting my skill in mathenlatics, by
elaborately-solve'd geometrical problems; and, at the
advice of a vocalist of considerable note, devoted
myself more particularly to the cultivation of a talent




110             GREEN MOUNTAIN
for music, which, from early childhood, I had manifested to a somewhat remarkable degree. I gave up
my college studies altogether, and, at the age of
eighteen, commenced mly real career. Aly natural
gift was not long developing under the excellent tuitton which my father's wealth brought me. At the
age of twenty I gave my first concert, which was received with enthusiastic applause, and introduced me
at once to the world as a gifted vocalist. My youth
added furor to the public sentiment regarding me,
and in a few months I found myself the burdened
object of universal admiration, as far as I knew.
These were happy days. Bright, indeed, do they appear to me now, far over the dismal desert. I have
now a circumstance to relate, which was the subtle
starting point of all my woes. And let me premise,
that if, in what follows, I exhibit the reflection of the
heart-tearing agonies I have endured, it shall not be
imputed to me as weakness to be despised, but be
charitably contemplated.
It was on a moonlight evening. I was returning
from a concert, where amy efforts had been received
with unusual applause, and, flushed with the glory of
success, was passing a residence of splendid exterior,




TRAVELLERS  ENTERTAINMENT.    31
wjAen my eye was caught with an angelically beautiful
face, turned towards the slightly waned moon, smiling down from m-idheavens. The owner of that face
was leaning over a low gate; and as she stood there,
looking far off into the serene sky, so divinely beautiful did she appear, that I involuntarily stopped to
gaze at her, I stood but a moment, and then passed
on; yet the image remained in my mind, gradually
deepening into my heart. From that moment, I was
in love; and it was my first love, deep, pure, and
as earnest as life.
The town where this happened, was a place of but
temporary sojourn to me; and though I had no intimate acquaintance there to whom I could confide my
desire for an introduction, I yet determined to have
an interview with the object upon which my imagination had taken so strong a hold. Owing to
the difficulty I have mentioned, it was several
weeks befbre it was brought about.  But I triumphed over all hindrances; and one balmy
afternoon, I was decently and auspiciously presented
to the young lady, whom I shall call Emily, for
convenience.  Unlike some moonlight scenes, I
found daylight gave additional charm. My imagie




32              GREEN MOUNTAdI
nation had, meanwhile, been very liberal, but I
was not long in discovering that it had not even
done justice to her. I was literally entranced
with the exquisite grace and tenderness of her
manner. Her exterior entirely displaced my beau
ideal of female beauty; and when, on passing
from the introductory common-places of conver
sation to more solid talk, I found her sensible
and thoughtful, and withal witty, you may well
conclude that a general displacement came to pass
within me. I was intoxicated with the ambrosial
draught. It inspired me, and I discoursed enthusiastically. Finally, at the suggestion of the friend
who had introduced me, I sang; I sang a ballad
which had a mournful ending; and as I dwelt
with deep feeling upon the last refrain, I saw
the pearly tears chase each other down' her cheeks,
pale with emotion.-Oh! that was a happy moment
to me —unutterably happy.  Heaven alone can
give me such another.  I departed  glowingly
from  her presence, and  withdrew  myself from
the companionship of the friend who was with
me, retiring  along the unfrequented  shores of
a creek in the vicinity, to think over the things




TRA V\ELLERS' ENITERTAINMENT.   33
of the afterno)on. The gushing happiness that had
at first overwhelmed  me, passed  on like any
other momentary tide, and left me in a Speculative mood. It was my song, and not I, that had
moved her so deeply. I remembered of having
seen large auditories in tears, at the same ballad,
before.  " I have made no especial impression;
and yet "  -  In this line I speculated until the
tolling of a distant clock admonished me of the
lateness of the hour, loth to arrive at any con.
elusion, because the right one could not be arrived
at from the premises. But on my way home, I
came to a wholesome determination, which was, to
lay siege, which, if needs be, I would turn into
a blockade, and patiently await the result.  I
began to execute my plan of operation, by making it convenient to pass the house of my beloved
two or three times a day, looking up the thinr
time of passing each day.  I generally saw her
at the window above, set in flowing crimson, and
lace curtains, like a painted picture. One day, I
caught a smile of recognition from her, which
encouraged me —I was grown wondrous bashful —
to call upon her.  The interview  was long- and
2*




GREEN MOUNTS.IN
undisturbed; yet I made but a poor figure, being
very dull, actually sleepy, though it was in the
afternoon, and uncontrollably absent-minded. But I
was far from  insensible. That dear image went
deeper into my heart at every gaze.  Her man.t
ner towards me was so  artless, so lureserved,
that I ventured to repeat my visit after a short
interval.  The reception I imet with was ever so
cordial, so vivifying, that I soon ceased to draw
pleasure from  anything else.  My profession  was
forgotten, my reputation, my friends, everything
but the sweet, ever-thought-of Emily.  I wanted
her to know how I felt. I became exceedingly
impatient to dissolve before her, and beseech her
to love me, as I loved her. But I was proud, and
feared a repulse.  She was ever friendly to me,
yet nothing more, so far as I could see. I knew
she was fond of my society, loved to hear me
sing, respected  my taste, studied to please me.
But this knowledge gave me no satisfaction. At
length, I became after a manner desperate, and
rushed headlong to a fierce determination, namely,
that I would tell her just how  I felt, frankly,
and ask her frankly what was to be done. This




TR AVELLERlS' ENT}rTERTAINAIENT.  85
[I Odld with many sighs, and some tears; and was
encouraged to hope by her remaining silent the
while. When the scene was over, she took my hand,
and playfully diverted me with fancyings oddly
timed yet like her-of how the villages in America
looked, and the cottages, and the great forests, the
lakes, the solitary streams, tEe quiet, uninhabited
valleys of which she had read, talking on so
sweetly for an hour. Strange girl! thought I, as
I walked home, so cool, and still so bewitching.
A. shadow fleeted across my soul that night. It
was the first dim moving of the dreadful storm,
whose fruit was to waste my life.
So much time had been squandered in pursuit of
this sole object of my then existence, that its accumulated length now attracted my attention; and I felt a
dawning conviction of the necessity of changing my
social habits a little. Having relieved- myself of a
portion of the burden, I found it not at all disagreeable to accept the next invitation to attend a select
party. It was at the house of a stranger, and my attendance was, I might say, professional. I was highly
gratified with the proceedings of the evening, until
near the closes when, after having sung to the over



36              GRliLN MOUNi'TAIN
whelming satisfaction of the company, I heard some
one ask another member of the party if he also would
furnish a song. It seemed to me a little out of taste,
but I joined the rest in pressing the invitation. The
invited, after much urging, took a seat at the piano.
He was young and strikingly handsome, having a noble expression of countenance, and modest demeanor.
I had never seen him before, and had not noticed him
particularly that evening. With subdued touch his
fingers ran over the shining keys, and in a moment I
felt that he was a master. In the trembling chimes
of the dying prelude his voice came gently into harmony, and waved off into a gushing melody so sweet
and unaffected, yet so skillful,-again I felt he was a
master. He sang one song, and then retired, leaving
the room. " Who is he?" asked a lady near me. His
name was given. No one of the party had ever heard
it before, except the informer.
The next day I saw an announcement, plentifully'
placarded upon the fences and lamp-posts, signifying
that a lMr. S —- would favor the public with some
choice vocal efforts that evening. He is to be my
rival, eh? I reflected with a tinge of bitterness, for I
knew his power, I had felt it the night previous.




TRAVELLERS' ENTERTAINMENT.     37
1 determined to go and hear him. To stay away, I
wisely thonght, would be accounted jealousy. And I
will take Emily, too, I further resolved, and she shall
thereby know the nobleness of my disposition. At
the appointed hour for the concert, I called upon
Emily for the purpose of carrying the latter resolution into effect, when, to my great discomfiture, I
found her just at the point of starting in the company
of the young vocalist himself. The incident was as
unexplainable as unexpected to me, and embarrassed
me very much. Yet I behaved myself as well as I
knew how; and she was so friendly, so sincerely
regretted the circumstance that was to deprive her
of my society for the evening, that I was somewhat
reinstated, and went home quite calm, forgetting,
however, that I ought to have been at the concert,
until it was quite too late. The next day the whole
city was vocal with praises of the brilliant Mr.
S, which, of course, grated roughly upon my
ear.  Not so much because his sudden splendor
bedimmed mine' in the eyes of the public, but because of its connection with my Emily. And the
dismal uncertainty I labored under regarding her
feelings towards me did not help the matter.  I




38              GREEN MOUNTAJI
thirsted for an explanation. That evening I visited
Emily and obtained it.
"You were previously acquainted with him " I
remarked.
" Oh, no," she replied, " he is the son of a friend of
my father. No, I never saw him until last night."
This was great relief. - My chance is as fair as his,
then, at any rate, I thought; and we'll see.
A letter from my father, urging me to come and
see him, had been lying in my drawer for several
days unanswered. I had taken it out that morning
for the purpose of answering it, telling him I could
not come. Some trivial incident had diverted me from
it for the moment, and I had placed it in my pocket,
and forgotten it.  On pulling my handkerchief
out of my pocket to mollify a sneeze, just after Emily
had uttered her explanation, I drew with it the letter.
It fell upon the floor before her, and she picked it up.
" Read it," said I. " It is from the best of fathers, to,
I fear, an ungrateful son."
"Why don't you go?" she remarked on finishing
it. I blunderingly hinted at the true reason, and
asked her what she would do under like circumstances.




TRAVELLERS' ENTERTAINMENT.      39
"Go, indeed I should. Your father is the best
friend you have on earth."  I groaned, and spoke of
something else; yet inwardly determined to go.
Accordingly I went. I was absent several weeks,
undergoing, meantime, all sorts of tortures. Being
far distant from her, I could reflect more coolly. I
brought in review all that had transpired, and was
often near the conviction that I had acted very foolishly, and that it was a mere wild-goose chase to
attempt to arouse any passion in her. So near was I
to this conviction, that I believe I should have
ultimately taken an oath never to return-O! that I
had taken such an oath!-had not my father, after
hearing an enthusiastic description of the place from
me, proposed making it his permanent residence. I
encouraged the proposition; and he accordingly disposed of his mansion in London, where he was then
living, and we together set out, he to visit, and I to
return to, the city of my hopes and discontent.
As I was sitting in my room the morning after
our arrival at the point of destination, moodily reflecting, I experienced a sudden enlightenment from the
idea, that probably my fears of rivalship, which had
grown to be quite formidable, were mere moonshine.




40              GREIEN M:OUNTAIN
His escorting her to the concert was merely an act
of gallantry in itself; and I had no reason to suppose
that it must necessarily be followed by further amatory
advances. It was a happy thought, and comforted
me marvellously. I whistled " God save the King!"
and cut a dancer's flourish, in which I tore my coat,
and expressed my satisfaction in two or three other
silly ways, being alone; and then, in a most happy
mood, went down stairs for the purpose of going out
to call on my old acquaintances. Just as I reached
the outside door, my eyes were filled with an object
which completely astounded me. All my fears came
darkly back and took me captive again. IMy confusion and abasement were indeed quite overwhelming,
for the object was none other than Emily, my adored,
rosy and sparkling, with Mr. S, smiling and
excited, in a superb carriage passing at a glorious
rate. "Perhaps they are going now on their wedding trip, who knows " said I bitterly to myself,
willing to magnify my misery. I gazed after them,
feeling that shadow again sweep chillingly over my
soul. It had not yet reached to a thought —dread
parent of the deed!
A week. passed before I called on Emily: and




TRAVELLERS' ENTERTAINMENT.     41
almost the first thing she said to me, was to rehearse
the pleasures of that ride, the commencement of
which I had witnessed. This she did so ingenuously,
and so regretted my not having been with them, that
I felt ashamed of my silly suspicion, and of the sentiment that accompanied it.  She also expressed
exceeding satisfaction at the determination of my
father, " which," said she, looking tenderly into my
face, "' will, I ari sure, secure me the society of one
devoted friend at least." If I had not known her as
well as I did, I should have taken this remark as an
insult. But I was fully aware that she spoke from
her inmost heart, and it only made me love her the
more.
My father succeeded in purchasing a mansion
suited to his wishes, and we took possession of it, my
father and myself, living alone, our household affairs
being regulated by an aunt of mine, who had to the
age of forty lived without having excited the serious
desires of the stronger sex. Having a home again,
and its new attachments, I prosecuted my siege more
leisurely, yet also more seriously. After the lapse of
two or three months,- my impatience overcame- me
again, and I repeated my ardent declaration. This
time my importunity-I was really desperate-over



42             GREEN MOUNTAIN
came her patience, and she frankly told me, that I
was too impetuous; that she did not want to hear me
talk so. "When, then, 0, angel!" I exclaimed,
insanely fervent, "shall I have a period to my
woes?" She made no reply, and I went on. " IHow
shall I teach you to love me?  Can I make any
sacrifice?.Will my life serve you? take it. It is no
longer mine, but thine, my dearest Emily. Can you
give me hope?" To this, and much more like unto
it, she said nothing. Suspicion crept into my excited
soul, and I gave it voice. "Would you be mine
were it not for another?" She made no reply. She
was weeping. I interpreted her emotion my own
way. " She loves another, but will not make me an
enemy," I said deep in my heart; and with it was
born a deadly hatred towards my long-dreaded rival.
I went from her presence fiercely determined never
to see her again.
For several days I underwent the dreadful struggle
between passion and pride; and I began to fear the
former would conquer, whereupon I concluded to
make a journey to the Continent. I believe my
sainted mother from on high gave me that impulse;
but the machinations of hell prevailed.
Who started the idea I know not; but in the




TRAVELLERS' ENTERTAINMENT.     43
midst of my preparations for departure, I was
surprised with a visit fiom a man, who introduced
himself as a committee of one, authorized to invite
me, in the name of the town, to enter the lists for a
strife of musical powers, the proceeds of the entertainment to be given to the poor. The idea pleased
me; but who was to be my competitor? He politely
informed me that Mr. S    had consented to sustain
that relation to me. The hated obstacle to my happiness! But I would not shrink. I was confident I
could overshadow him. I signified my approval of
the plan, and my acceptance of the invitation, and
consecquently deferred my setting out on the anticipated journey for the time being.
Still the struggle within me continued. It took
away my ambition, and impaired my voice. To
such an extent did it thus operate on me, that I was
at the point of withdrawing myself from the anticipated musical strife altogether, when the following
singular circumstance transpired.
Some time had elapsed since my last interview
with Emily, and I had pretty vwell settled into the
conviction that she was quite indifferent to me, and
my consuming passion. One close of day, as I was




44                   GREEN MOUNTAIN
sitting  by  the  window, watching  the  fading  of
the  glorious  autumnal twilight, a little  boy  was
announced. I called him to mny side, and he gave
me a letter.  I did not know the hand-writing of the
superscription, but opened it with trembling haste,
suspecting who the author was. Glancing at the end,
I saw it was from  the cruel Emily.  Yet, the letter
did not surprise me, as did the contents thereof. I
read it twice, and reflected upon it some time, before
I could rest satisfied it was not all a dream.  The
letter was as follows; I can repeat it word for word"MY VERY DEAR - FRIEND:-I know you are unhappy. I know
you are offended with me. If you knew my heart, you would
believe me when I say, you are angry without a cause. They
tell me I am a strange being. Perhaps I am. They tell me I am
incapable of the passion of love. Perhaps I am. It is true, I have
often wished I could have been so made, that I could have the
friendship without the love of men. I know not what to do. I
have no objections to marrying; but I must not make an. enemy by
it. Mr. S-   has made a declaration similar to that which you
have twice made. What shall I do? I prize you both very
highly. 1 cannot marry either of you at the expense of the other's
friendship.  A. happy suggestion came to my mind to-day.  The
papers announce that you are to test your musical capacities in a
friendly strife. The one who succeeds may appropriate me as his
trophy. Will you consent to it? Can you consent to it, and remain
friendly if disappointed? I know well that you both love me very




TRAV ELLERS' ENTERTAINMENT.           45
much. I hope I am worthy of your loves. They tell me disap.
pointed lovers are the worst of enemies. Do you believe it? Can
you, if the issue should be against you, set an example to the
contrary? I am unhappy. I wish you would consent to- this. If
you triumph, I will be your wife; if you fail, I will yet be your
friend.
EMILY.
"P. S. I have sent a duplicate of this to Mr. S."
Oh, how ardently did I consent to this arrangement!  I  knew  the  prize  would  be  mine, and
that my thorny pilgrimage would be crowned
with a triumphant entry into the paradise of all
my earthly hopes. I briefly acquainted Emily
with my acquiescence in what she proposed; and
set about preparing myself for the trial, the issue
of which was to be of such vital importance to me.
Great excitement prevailed in  the  city.  From
our known  talents; and the  stimulus  the  occasion  would  afford, the  music-loving  confidently
anticipated a glorious treat.
At length, the day  closed  that was to  usher
in  the  night of-my  destiny.  We were to  sing
alternately, occupying  three  hours  in  all;  the
decision to be passed by a committee, appointed
for that purpose.
At the time  announced  for the  beginning, I




46.             GREEN MOUNTAIN
entered the crowded hall; and as the cheers of
the expectant throng died away, I felt as though
I would risk my life upon the result, so confident was I of success. My competitor was already
there; and as I turned to take a seat upon the
stage, I caught a glimpse of the fair enchantress,
far back in the dense multitude. That inspired
me anew. I was impatient to begin. The singing
commenced, —my rival opening the performance.
He sang a beautiful song, about the coming of
some happy day, when heaven would descend to
earth, and all" should feel the flow of praise and
adoration -welling in the heart, a living, eternal
tide of tearless beatitude; and as he wandered
among the mazes of the intricate, yet rapturous
melody, I could not help but be conscious of a
new  tone in his  young  voice —a development
which I had not looked for, and which annoyed
me very much.
I saw  the audience  sway with his  growing
energy. And when the last sweet trill melted away
like an embodied sound, floating far into the deep,
limitless sky, and I saw the rapt listeners pale
with exquisite pleasure, my heart for a moment sank




TRAVELLERS' ENTERTAINMENT.      47
within me. I followed him, and sang as I had
never sung before; and though I was entbhusiastically applauded, I could plainly see that I failed
to produce that deep effect which accompanied
my antagonist's effort. He sang again. Again he
sat down without cheers, so rapt was the audib
ence. My second attempt was more successful;
but I had what seemed an Orpheus to contend
with. I became desperate.  Having the closing
song, I chose the ballad which I had sung at
my first interview with Emily. The closing verses
spoke the real feeling of my intensely agitated
heart. They were the words of a lovei, in utter
despair. I gave entirely away to the tide of feeling,
and had the satisfaction of producing that voiceless
effect, which I desired. But it was a poor satisfaction. I knew very well that my rival had on
the whole, triumphed; and I passed a sleepless
night, harrowed with terrible  presentiments.  In
the morning, I was waited upon by a delegate
from the committee, and presented with a sealed
note, without remarks.  I knew  its  contents;
I needed not to read them.  I seized  my hat,
and went fortih beneath the smile of that serene




48              GREEN MOUNTAIN
autumnal morning, cursing my God, and wishing
I could die. Life from a spread of flowers, and
tuneful groves, bounded with a horizon of warm
beauty, was suddenly, like a change in a dream,
transformed into a bleak, rock-bound, fog-mantled
dungeon, without hope.
I strolled along the creek, where I had wandered the spring before, venting the pent agony
of my spirit in groans and lamentations. The
first gush of tearful emotion past, the sickening
thought, that another was soon to enjoy what I
had so lately looked upon as mine, took possession
of me, and with it that shadow, like the first wave
of insanity. Murder was in my heart.  If it had
been merely in regard to Emily, that he had
succeeded, I think honor would have deterred me
from  interfering; but he had, innocently, to be
sure, yet that I did not consider, cast a shade
upon my reputation as a singer.  It stung like
a viper, and I believe clenched my shadowy purpose.  "He shall not enjoy her," I said aloud,
and smote the air. I afterwards thought, as my
mind coldly settled upon a plan, " I shall but
die of my most cruel disappointment. If justice




TRAVELLERS' ENTERTAINMENT.      49
find me out, and I -perish, it will be but a coveted
period to a life surcharged with woes."  Miserable,
short-sighted youth! how  little didst thou count
the cost of thy insane purpose! The only consolation, or palliation there is, is that I did not
work alone. The fiends of deepest hell were my
abettors.
My unsuspecting victim left town that morning,
so I was informed on my return, to visit his
mother-he was a widow's son-a short distance
away, intending to return in the evening.  That 1
might not be suspected,.I made a show of illness
to two or three of my young friends, and went
home early in the evening, ostensibly to retire to
bed.  Arrived at home, I provided myself with
an excellent pistol, which I had owned for some
time, and was perfectly accustomed to, and went
forth on my bloody mission.  I took a round-about
way, and reached the road by which I knew he
must return, about three miles from the city limits.
It was a solitary place. The road skirted a huge
precipitous rock, for about a quarter of a mile.
On the side opposite the upper rock, was another
precipice of considerable depth, up which came




50              GREEN MOUNTATN
the murmur of a foaming stream below. Here,
in the shadow of the rock, I posted myself. The
night was clear and windy. It was a mournful
wind, and might have prophesied to me, had I
listened. But conscience was stifled in the raging
of the fiendish passions within. I heard only the
sounds of hissing scorn from the world, at my late
failure, and the sounds of amatory endearment
between the angel captor of my soul, and another.
I grated my teeth, and clenched the cold, passive
instrument of death. I heard the sound of horse's
hoofs. -  knew that S —    had gone out on horseback.  The  terrible  excitement under which I
labored, sharpened every sense, and I felt that it was
he. I threw  off my cloak, and placed my right
elbow upon a projection of the' rock, that my aim
might be sure. My position -was hardly assumed
when he came in sight, his horse galloping leisurely.
On he came, so near that I clearly recognized him.
The horses ears were pointed towards me. "Now
is the time," I fiercely whispered, for conscience
pulled hard at my arm, and-O, mny God! I tell
it not willingly-discharged the deadly weapon.
The horse stopped suddenly still; the rider bent




TRAVELLERS' ENTERTAINMENT.      51
low over its neck, clinging by the mane. The shot
was fatal. I saw him fall heavily to the ground.
The spell was broken. The enormity of the deed
glared at me like -a wandering spectre.  I hurriedly left the spot, getting home, I hardly knew
how. I entered my room, and locked the door, and
sat down to reflect upon what I had done. But
I could not reflect. I could not remain in my
chair; I could only walk the floor beating my breast
in the agony of remorse. As I walked, I felt a
death-like chill creeping along my nerves. I looked
at my hands; they were blue and stiff like a corpse's.
The lamp, and then the windows multipled; the
walls danced and whirled; the floor rose beneath
me; a dark rush, like diving into deep, still
water, and I was lost to consciousness of external
things. I came back to this world amidst the
smell of drugs, and the close, heavy air of a
sick-room.  I had been very ill several days,delirious, they told me, raving almost continually.
Had I disclosed the awful secret? How could I
know. I told my nurse that I had had a painful
dream  of killing a man; and asked her if I had
d(one injury to any one. She assured me to the con



-i2           GREEN MOUNTAIN
trary, and bade me be quiet. Being stronger the
next day, my father came in to see me; gravely
and feelingly he told me of the diabolical murder
that had been committed; his words were keen
arrows shot unerringly through my heart. With
remarkable  self-possession, I asked him  some
questions concerning it, and the matter passed by.
As day by day I arose from my prostration, I felt
the communion with my past life severed, and the
gory deed with which my hands were ifmbrued
coming out in dark relief, a haunting, avenging
shape.
Many weeks crept monotonously away before I
could again go forth into the sunshine and the fields;
and when I did, the former was but a mockery, and
the latter white with the mantle of winter. Like
my heart were all things; but unlike that they had
the embryo of spring. The undying worm within
fed upon my returning vitality, and my recovery
was slow, and, sometimes doubtful. It was agreed
to, among my physicians, that a sojourn in some
milder climate would be beneficial to me. Accordingly I renewed my preparations for a journey to
the Continent. 3My destination was Naples, whereat




TRAVELLERS' ENTERTAINMENT.     53
in due time, and without accident, I arrived. Here
was a new world for me. Diverted by the multitude
of new and interesting objects that surrounded me,
I rapidly regained my health, and even my old
buoyancy of spirits.  My voice returned; and
intoxicated with the applause it brought me, and
being surrounded with all that could fascinate, I
gradually lost sight of the demon that pursued me. —
I forgot that I was a murderer.
I remained in Naples three years. At last its
pleasures became stale to me, and I longed for
home. Having no other guide than inclination, I
obeyed it, and went back to England. My father
had grown old very much. He wept, and embraced
me; which I was pained to behold, for in him it was
an indication of dotage. The extraordinary activity
and privation of his early life had prematurely
exhausted the fountain, and now grey, bent, and
emaciated, he was tottering rapidly to the grave.
The hope of meeting and embracing me once more
had for months supported him. Now that his wish
was gratified, he sank soon, and was no more. IHe
died blessing his only son, and calling upon God to
grant him a long life of usefulness and happiness.




54             GREEN YOUNTAIN
I was an orphan. My new sorrow for a time
hindered the return of remorse. But it was soon
brought back with redoubled fury by learning that
an innocent man had, in my absence, been arrested
and executed for the deed of which I alone was
guilty. Oh! the tearless, scathing agony that burnt
deep into'my writhing heart! Yet there was no
help. Pardon from on High I could not ask, and
men knew not my guilt, knew not my wretchedness,
to forgive or to sympathize. I was alone, Oh! how
dismally alone!
Why it was I have never been able to explain;
but true it is, that from the horrid depth into which
I had fallen I looked to Emily. I loved her then.
Oh! I had never ceased to love her. Could she be
mine, I thought; and could we together go to some
place remote from this, where things around could
no more speak to my heart of its hellish crime, I
would yet be happy and willing to live.
I wrote to her: yes, this bloody right hand that
had deprived her of a noble and devoted husband
wrote to her, asking her to be mine. Miany days I
feverishly awaited a reply.  It ca-me, a barbed
flaming dart. It was but one line, firmly written,




TRAVELLERS' ENTERTAINMENT.     55
"I cannot be the wife of a murderer."?  She knew
my secret, and had kept it. Could I have loved an
angel from Heaven more? Could I have feared.
more the arm of Omnipotent Justice?
Thus was the last hope crushed, the last tie that
bound me to the land of my fathers severed. She
who had been the innocent cause of my wasting,
undying misery, who had once shone so warmly
into my soul, had withdrawn herself far from me
for ever.  She was to be thenceforth as a star
mirrored upon my turbulent soul, a cold, scattered
brightness.
I became a voluntary exile. I went to Germany.
There the new climate, and novel circumstances, like
the fascinations of Naples, soothed me for a time,
and I began again to hope.  I strove to forget
entirely my past life.  And that I might succeed,
I adopted the language and customs of the country.
For five years I neither read, spoke, nor thought an
English word voluntarily. At the end of that time,
I had made such progress in my new way of life,
that I was able to mingle freely in society. My
talents as a vocalist shone out brilliantly again; and
they, coupled with my great wealth, gave me high




56              G~REIEN MOUNIJTAIN
standing. Still the bloody deed haunted me, coming
out more bold as things became familiar around me.
I thought again of wandering. But a new attraction
appeared. A young countess, a widow, beautiful,]
and adorned with all the graces that art could
I)estow, and of a disposition mild and melancholy,
tender and loving, became a member of the Society
to the entertainment of which I often contributed.
She too was a singer; and in the mazy realm of
music we approached one another. I loved her:
not as I first loved-as purely, but not so rapturously.
My soul seized upon her as one drowning seizes the
tendered object of salvation. In her was passion
deep as the sea. IHer marriage had been one of
convenience; and she had never loved before. She
gave herself to me, and we were married. In her
loving embrace I again ceased to feel for a fleeting
period that I was a murderer. Life again opened
before me a shining vista; and I could look back
with a feeling akin to defiance. The clear moon told
a new tale; the mournful winds lost their burden,
their moaning rehearsal of that fatal night, and tooli
the tone which had charmed my spirit in childhood.
Time cast off his chains, and took the soft, swift




TRAVELLERS' ENTERTAINMENT.     s?
pinions of the dove; weeks became as days, and
days as hours. I was happy; yet not completely
happy. There was a dread, like the heavy sound of
a distant storm  at sea, —deep, underlying all-a
dread of the future.
The anniversary of our nuptials was made glad
with the birth of a child-a daughter. This circumstance weaned me yet more from my past life, —
dimmed yet more the hideous remembrance.
Another year bore me smoothly and rapidly on.
_MIy little girl, now a sweet blue-eyed prattler,
could call me father. Father'! Why did it so affect
me?.  I well remember the thrill of agony that
sacred word first from her smiling lips sent through
my soul. I withdrew the hand which would have
patted her ruddy cheek-that hand was stained with
a brother's blood! I gasped and trembled with the
depth of my emotion; and the little cherub ran
frightened from me.
But it was not long so. - It was but a passing throe
of dormant conscience.
Another year was added to my illusive dream.
One day my little treasure climbed to my knee, and
told me her mother was sick. I started as one struck
3*




58              GREEN MOUNTAIN
by the assassin's blade. Directly a domestic came in
and confirmed the artless utterance of the little
lisper. In a moment I was at her side. She was
really very ill. She had been suddenly attacked
with a malignant and fatal epidemic with which the
city was then being scourged, and from a knowledge
of her constitution I knew she must die. I sent for
a physician, who gravely confirmed my awful conviction —awful! for what had she not been to me? to
what was I now to awake?  " Can you not save
her?" I wailed beseechingly. The kind and sympathizing physician pointed with tears to the mark of
death. There was no hope. I felt its feeble glimmer
perish within me, and overwhelmed I sank in a long,
deep swoon.
As f came out of the rayless void, a grim spirit
seemed to whisper in my ear, "The murderer has
dreamed his dream of bliss. Henceforth, shall be
toiling among lacerating rocks, and blinding lightnings, until the great gulf of destruction swallow him
up for ever!"  I resisted the kind efforts that would
restore me to this world, and longed to die. Life
was worse than worthless to me. I stood as one
might stand upon the skirts of a limitless desert,




TRAVELLERS' ENTERTAINMENT.     59
while vengeful furies urged on behind to lash him
with their serpent scourges forward for ever upon
the arid waste. When they told me she was dead,
my mind refused the guidance of my will, and I
howled like a frightened maniac.
In a few hours nature so far prevailed over the
tortures of my spirit, that I was sufficiently recovered
to visit the chamber of death.
I stood by her dead body, and took up my child.
It was then I thought of my own childhood; of the
story of my birth, and what the sailor said; of the
tiger, and cursed the ball that saved my life; of
how my mother died, and my father wept, pressing
me to his heavy heart; and as my mind dwelt
tenderly on that, tears came to my burning eyes, and
I wept long and freely.
A few dismal days passed dimly on, and she was
buried.  When the always sad-to me treblymournful ceremony was over, I returned to my
desolated home firmly resolved upon self-destruction.
But when I saw my child, and felt the beams of her
sunny soul, my will swerved, and I put away for the
time the dark resolve. But that frail support to my
sinking spirit was not spared me long. Ere the grass




60              GIZEEN MOUNTAIN
grew upon the grave of the mother, the lone]y —
wandering little innocent was laid by her side.
Again utterly alone, I would have persevered in my
former purpose. But I had grown thoughtful, and
shrank from passing that bourn whence there can be
no return. I sought relief from intoxicating drinks.
I drank deeply. From drinking I fell to gambling,
and my wealth soon melted away, leaving me in a
few months penniless. My position in society lost,
I mingled with outcasts the most forlorn of all, and
walked familiarly with villains, yet not myself a
villain. No; the one great crime that had thrust me
into this terrible abyss, had been the rash deed of
unthinking youth.- I could not commit another.
The awful remembrance debarred me.
At first the stimulating draught had quieted me;
but now it ceased to befriend. The avenging shape
kept pace with every pulsation of my weary heart,
stabbing without mercy.  It mingled with the
ravings of my drunlnenness, and glared hotly upon
me in the silent hours of solitude.
Lower, and lower I sank, until all men spurned
me, and I went aside like a wounded brute to die.
I lay in an open hovel. It was a cold winter night. ]




TRAVELLERS  ENTERTAINMENT.     61
lay upon the bare, frozen earth, and waved my hand
in the keen air, and blessed it for the numbing frosts
it bore to freeze my blood, so earnest was my longing
for death-for a period to my innumerable and hopeless woes. As I waved it there a warm hand grasped
it, and I was addressed in English. So long had I
avoided that language, it sounded like a foreign
tongue to me. In my wildness I thought that I was
dead, and that it was my father who addressed me.
The voice told me to get up. I could not obey.
Two men then carefully lifted and bore me to a
carriage, and I was conveyed to a warm room, where
cordials were administered to me, and I fell into a
comfortable slumber, from which, after a few hours,
I awoke considerably renewed.  The presence of
Englishmen was like introducing me to the home of
my youth, and-strange aberration-it sent a flush of
joy through my soul.
Directly I was informed of the circumstances
which had led to my rescue.,A bachelor uncle of mine, on the maternal side,
had lately died, leaving by will a small annuity to
me. Inquiry had been made concerning my where.
abouts; and after diligent search I had been traced




62             GREEN MOUNTAIN
to Germany.  There they found me as I have
described.  Whence the scrupulous honesty which
had actuated the apparently disinterested administrators, I never troubled myself much to discover.
Perhaps, my mother from  paradise accompanied
them. I have often thought so. Yet, perhaps, it is
only superstition. But I do love to think of my
mother, my father, my wife, my child, as looking
down kindly and lovingly from their beatitude, upon
the wretched wanderer.
Under the kind administerings of my new friends,
I soon recovered my usual strength, and with it, a
decided change came over me, which was not
altogether owing to my altered situation and returning health. I had a kind of half consciousness
that I had in part atoned for my crime and was
forgiven. It gave me cheerfulness for a time, and I
readily consented to return to England.
Accordingly, in company with my two friends, I
embarked for London. As I approached the wellremembered shores, my gloom returned. I strove to
resist it in vain. It increased upon me as I walked
along the familiar streets. The places hallowed in
my recollection by the innocence of my childhood,




TRAVELLERS' ENTERTAINMENT.      63
and youth seemed to look with sadness upon me. I
did not dare to renew'my old social relations, and
cared not to form new ones. The two friends who
had accompanied me from Germany, separated from
me soon, and went away to their homes. I supported my increasing loneliness for a while, loth to
venture again upon distant wanderings; but at last
became convinced that no other course would save
me from  intolerable wretchedness. Having come
into full possession of the annuity, I took passage for
this country, where I arrived a little upwards of two
years since. I seek the turmoil of large cities to
divert the current that ever rushes darkly up to
overwhelm me. Yet, sometimes a tender melancholy, soothing like the singing voices of angelsOh! I know it is from nthose who love me-takes
possession of me, and then I seek such wilds as these.
This is my story, gentlemen. The pain it has
given me to relate it, and which I have tried in vain
to avoid manifesting, may be to you a pledge of its
truth. Alas! I would it were but idle fiction.




64              GREEN MOUNTA/1s
CHAPTER  I1l.
WHEN  the narrator had ceased  speaking, he
covered his withered face with his withered hands,
breathing heavily. The rest of us were all deeply
moved, some shedding tears, the jolly-looking baldheaded man quite profusely, being obliged to use his
pocket-handkerchief. For several minutes, no one
seemed disposed to interrupt the tide of sympathetic
sadness which prevailed.  At last the president
remarked abruptly, smiting his thigh-" Gentlemen,
I don't know how you view it, but I say this is rather
too serious. It chokes me, I vow! I've heard hard
stories in my day, stories that made rough-skinned
juries cry; but I'm inclined to think this is a little
the hardest yet.  I propose the' card be turned.
Let's try again. Let's see," looking around, "who is
to tell the next one? I mo- but stop, I forgot, I'm
president.  Let some one motion to the desired
effect."




TRAVELIDERS' ENTERTAINMENT.    65
"I motion," said the Quaker,' that the president
himself favor us with the next effort."
"That's taking hold of the bridle-rein, my dear
sir," responded that functionary. "I see sir, you
haven't forgot our dispute an hour or two since. You
want to be revenged, oh i"
"I second the motion," put in one of the farmerlike looking men, excited.
"Moved and seconded, then. I see it is inevitable
-but, by-the-by, I have doubts of the regularity of
this proceeding; at all events you should allow a
fellow chance to stump it a little, particularly when
he wants to be defeated."
"Go on sir," playfully commanded the Quaker.
"Do your duty."
The motion was put, and unanimously carried.
Whereupon the president arose, and with a loud
voice demanded if any one would volunteer to treat
the company to cigars.
"Cheerfully" said I, also rising, " I am  yet
indebted to you all."  The little dry man remained
apparently unconscious of what was going on; but
the rest silently acquiesc'ed, and we were soon seated
again, industriously smoking.




GREEN lMO'UNTAIN
"You still insist, do you?" asked the president of
the Quaker.
"Indeed I do.  Have you ever had a doubt
that the majority can rule in a Republican government?"
"'Well, then, prepare.  It may take me some
time; and as its getting late, I want all to assume a
position in which you may fall asleep without interrupting the thread of my narrative, if sleep shoucld
overtake you, you understand."
In order to humor the joke, and not knowing
how much unlike a joke it might turn out to be,
each one adjusted himself in the most comfortable
position allowed by circumstances, and, with eyes
expectant, beheld the upright president, who, seeing
the coast was clear, commenced as follows:Our unfortunate friend here, has given us a
general autobiography. To entertain us, he has
drawn from his own experience. For'me to follow
him with an empty bar-room yarn, would be unge
nerous -to him, and would probably grate harshly
upon your ears. I will not do it. I, too, will
tell you of what I have both seen and heard. Yet
less generous than our unhappy friend, I shall




TRAVELLERS' ENTERT-AINMENT.     67
confine my narration to six or seven years of
my life.  These years, though usually that most
uninteresting lapse between boyhood and manhood,
have been to me by far the most eventful which
I have lived. Sadly eventful, alas! By the by, I
complained of the seriousness of the story we have
just heard. If I enter upon this rehearsal, I don't
know that I shall better the matter; perhaps you
do not fiel as I did in regard to that story. I will
take it for granted, that  you do not, without
asking you, and go on, having started, though I
do wish I had something more cheerful to relate.
But to the tale, or we shall never reach the end.
I was a hard boy, as you may guess from my
make, perverse and boisterous. My father was a
farmer, and my mother a farmeress, both of them
contented to plough, sow, reap, and bring forth.
And being industrious, they ploughed much, sowed
much, and being under the immediate smile of
Providence, they reaped abundant harvests, and
brought forth many. I was the oldest of the flockand a flock it was, except myself, who only wore
the outer vestments.  I budded and  expanded
under the  fiery.wrath and indignation of my




68             GREEN MOUNTAIN
father, who, being reserved and taciturn, and also
very methodic, found me ever a buffeting thorn.
I increased lustily, however, under the gleaming
orbs, and sharp pruning tongue, and at the age of
fourteen, embraced the notion that I was, a man.
Concerning this, my father and I fell out more malignantly than ever. But I cherished my new-blown
dignity, and would not yield. The up-shot of it
was, I clandestinely left the parental roof. It was a
bad move, and I found it out very soon. Having
never been away from  home over night, and
scarcely over a meal before, I had not imbibed
the idea of providing for the future; and discovered the very first day, that my capital was
altogether inadequate to the investment. The first
twenty-four hours consulned my money, and I
was thrown upon my spontaneous resources, which
did not prove very fruitful. However, with a piece
of bread begged here, and a bowl of milk begged
there, I managed to keep my stomach tolerably
quiet, and my feet comparatively active, until I had
put a hundred miles between me and my old
home. I landed, and stranded, the tenth morning
from launching —speaking after the manner of the




TRAVELLIERS' ENTERTAINIMENT.    69
sea —in the city of New York. HIere my manhood
suffered great depreciation. I became immediately
so completely merged and submerged, that I lost
my identity,-so much so, that a little hoc'us-pocu8
would have convinced me that I had no existence
at all, except in my eyes.  As night came on,
I began to get hungry. As soon as I began to
*think of food, I lost interest in everything else,
and directed every sense and energy to finding.
some; and no wonder. I had tasted of nothing but
my own spittle, and some pine splinters, since the
night before.  While bent vigorously upon the
one thing needful, to me just then, I became
infested with an exceedingly painful doubt. How
was I to obtain possession of food, when I should
have found it? I had not one cent, and my clothes
were too dirty to offer in exchange.  But neither
did the doubt, nor the speculations that followed
it, at all appease my appetite; and in view of the
imperative necessity, I finally concluded that if
from what I knew  the case was doubtful, there
was a great deal I did not know, and perhaps
amongst that might be found means of escape from
tile present difficulty. Comforted, I wandered on.




70              GREEN MOUNTAIN
At length, fearing that I should not be able even
to find food by my own unaided efforts, I accosted
a ragged, dirty urchin in size about four years old.
" Bub," said I patronizingly, " can you tell me where
I can get something to eat?"
"Bub!" he responded, swelling like a little toad.
" Do you go to h-l, or I'll b6b ye," looking fiercely
and steadily up into my face. I slowly inserted my
hands in my pantaloons pockets, and wonderingly
returned his gaze.
" It's something you want to eat, heh T'. he continued. "' Look straight across this here street, will ye?"
I looked.
"' Do you see that are sign, there a"
I had seen it before he asked me. It read in flaming red letters, in semi-circle, high on a post, " City
Eating House."  Strange as it may seem, still it is a
fact, that, so slim was my worldly experience, and
particularly the city part thereof, I interpreted that
sign to signify an establishment kept and provided by
the city for the benefit of those who could not pay.
Fully possessed with this idea, I crossed the street,
and boldly entering, made known my voracious want.
"Of course, sir; with all dispatch, sir. Sit down,




ThAVELLERS ENTERTAINMENT.       71
sir —at this table, sir. Any preference in dishes,
sir 2.9
Good Lord! such politeness!  It astounded me.
I thought I had landed in paradise, surely. I thanked
the genteel individual with considerable feeling, and
allowed him to conduct me to a small round table, in
a curtained recess, for the moment forgetting why I
was there.
" Any preference in dishes?" repeated the obsequious gentleman.
I had none. In a few minutes a most tempting
display covered the table, which I proceeded to demolish-not the table, but the fixins —with inexpressible relish. I ate long and fiercely; and came out,
at last, appeased, with my face very red and greasy.
I walked up and down the long room, wondering at
the benevolence of those who kept so splendid an establishment for the indigent.
After completing my survey, I very properly
thought about finding a place to sleep. I could see
no chance for it there, and I turned my steps towards
the door. Just as I reached it I was touched gently
on the shoulder, and had my attention directed to a
counter, with a man behind it, in a distant corner of




'72            O1GREEN MOUNTAIN
the room. The man behind the counter was beckoning to me; and with a sense of doing some one
a service, I went towards him.  I approached and
leaned against the counter.
" Two shillings, sir," said he, without looking at me.
I thought he must be addressing some one else, and
looked around to see who it was.
"Two shillings, sir," he said again, looking at me.
" Me'?" I asked; "I haven't got any money."' No moneyS You young devil, you; do you suppose you are to eat your supper at our expense?
Why, what do you mean, you infernal scapegrace!
Call the policeman, Jim."
Now I did not know positively what - policeman'
meant; but guessed. "I did not mean to do any
harm, sir; indeed I did not," I commenced, beseechingly.
" No words, you young scamp. No getting up a
booboo, here."
Jim left ostensibly for a policeman, and I was left
in a dismal fix, that's certain. While in the midst
of this dilemma-both horns of which, as it were,
thrust under my fifth ribs-an old sailor slid up to
the counter, and wiping his greasy lips on his jacket.




'TRAVELLERS' EN fERTAINMENT.   73
sleeve, demanded " the bearing of that are reckoning
o' yourn."  While the score was being reckoned, he
looked up, then around a great way off, as though
searching for some distant object, then down, and his
eyes settled on me.
"What's in the wind, lad," said he, compassionately; " aground a"
I chokingly told him I was out of money, and they
were going to put me in jail.
"From the country, I reckon. Great way from
port, perhaps a"
I answered meekly, " Yes."
Hle looked up, and then away to a great distance,
again. "Say, you there, behind there, reckon in this
lad's damage," at the same time throwing a gold
coin upon the counter. The change was counted out,
and the old sailor, grabbing up one handful and putting it in his own pocket, drew off the remainder into
the other hand, and opening one of my trowsers pockets, shook it in there.
" Now, lad, bear up alongside, and we'll go aboard."
The phraseology was so entirely new, and so radically differed from what I was accustomed Lo hearing,
that it conveyed no definite idea to my understanding,
4




74             GREENiF  MOUNTAIN
which fact mrnst have been manifested by my coun
tenance, for I said nothing.
" Poor fellow!" he continued. "You don't understand. I mean, will ye go with me?"  His manner
had inspired me with confidence in him, and thinking
he might assist me in getting a place to sleep, I followed him. It was quite dark, and as we went along
he took hold of my hand. Assured by his kindness,
I ventured to ask him where he was going.
" On board for the night. Ye must go with me,
and I'll give ye a hammock."
I informed him I had been to supper.
"IHammock, hammock, lad; a place to sleep. Bless
you! I knowed ye had been to supper. That was what,he dog behind there was snarling about, wasn't
it."
Depressed with shame at my ignorance, I made no
further remarks, and we soon came to the wharf.
" Keep a steady lookout as ye climb this here," cautioned my guide, as we walked up a narrow plank,
leading to the midships of a huge merchant vessel,
darkly looming against the sky. I took his caution
to hieart, and carefully ascending, found myself for
the first time in a ship. My first general impression




TRAVELLERS' ENTERTAINMENT.    75
was of being in a grocery of indefinite extentsuch piles of boxes, and barrels, and sacks; such a
profusion of what seemed to me tar, molasses, and
flour on the floor; such a redolence of indistinguishable smells;-I was quite bewildered and impressed
with awe. I followed the sailor passively, who conducted me along a winding way, walled narrowly in
with innumerable boxes and sacks, to a low apartment which he introduced to, me as the " steerage."
ilere I had ocular demonstration of what a hammock
was; and blushing at the recollection of my ignorance, I submitted to the kind direction of my protector, and was soon asleep.
I was aroused at break of day by the old sailorwhom I shall. call Senk, for that was the name he
went by-who, when he perceived I was fully awake,
proceeded to admonish me as to what my future conduct must be-first, however, ascertaining my precise
relations to existing circumstances and to the world
at large.
"Ye must say'sir' to everybody that speaks to
ye. Be most devilish civil, and out o' the way. The
officers are a most damned impudent set. They'd
kick ye overboard in a minute if they'd happen to




76              GREEN MOUNTAIN
stumble or slip, and you'd laugh the least bit or
snicker. And be sure ye always be very particular to say' Captain Smith' to the man ye hear me
call so. Now mind that; it's very important. I want
you to stay on board, and be a sailor. You can't do
better. I brought a fellow on here five years ago,
and there ain't a better sailor ever climbed the rigging. Wouldn't ye like to be a sailor, lad, eh?" he
concluded, getting up a little sham enthusiasm for the
occasion.
I had not left home with the intention of going to
sea. But the experience of the previous night had
disgusted me with the city, and between my disgust
and a certain vague inclination to visit distant lands
I came suddenly and decidedly to the conclusion that
I would be a sailor. Senk, who had scrutinized my
countenance in the most lively manner during the
short cogitation that had passed within me, saw instantly my decision, and without waiting for me to
speak, burst forth rapturously"Ay, ay, sir. I knowed you'd do it. Now come
along wi' me on the hurrican deck, and mind ye do
jest as I tole ye."
I submitted to his leading, and we went up on deck.




TltA EL I itS    E rTEtTAINIMENT.  lT
As we were walking slowly along, a little bare grey
head with spectacles, popped up from a square hole
about three steps off from us.
" On board eh i" it said, adding a pair of broad
shoulders to it.
4' Ay, ay, sir, Captain Smith," promptly responded
Senk. "Been on over night."
" Well, that's strange. Got kicked out for disorderly conduct somewhere, I suppose, and couldn't
stay ashore. Thank God! we're to leave to morrow.y
While giving utterance to these amiable remarks,
the head and shoulders, which Senk had called " Cap.
tain Smith," built themselves up heavily, and revealed
a quite unsymmetrical foundation, based with a pair
of remarkably large feet.  Fairly established on
deck, he directly made a discovery.
" What have you got here, you old hull?"
" A young lad in trouble, that I picked up ashore
last night," commenced Senk.'" I'll warrant. You are always up to such foolery.
Mlighty benevolent at others' expense! What do you
expect to do here, young man " he continued, addressing me, and evidently meaning no respect by the
title.




78             GREEN -MOUNTAIN
"I don't know, sir —C-Captain Smith, ah!"  I
emitted, borne down with awe.
Though naturally bold, and inconsiderate, either of
times or circumstances, when at home among the
well-known cows, horses, and school-boys, I had seen
so much in the short interval since leaving the parental roof which demonstrated my own weakness, that
I had not only lost every vestige of my supposed
manhood, but had, as it were, been born again, and
was scarcely advanced beyond infancy.  My confusion was very'great, which I suppose somewhat
flattered the august Captain Smith, who went on to
say, in a milder tone, after a few mnoments' reflections
" Do you want to go to sea?"
Raising my eyes to the feet of the awful man, I
replied " Yes,"' forgetting to add the title until he commenced speaking again, which caused an additional
dash of confusion, so completely bewildering me that
I lost all he said, until he shifted his remarks to Senk.
"Take him below, Senk, and tell the steward I
sent him.."
Glad to get from the oppressive presence, I followed Senk with alacrity.
I found the steward, to whom Senk ceremoniously




TRAVELLER{S [ZNT i~rTALNMENT.   79
presented me, a large, heavy-looking gentleman of
color. He had a mild, placid expression all over him,
that made me feel quite at home. We directly fell
into conversation, and became rapidly acquainted.
HIe patiently pointed out my duties, and on my performing one of them successfully, he promptly dubbed me " Cabin Boy," nicknaming me Phil, and I
swore allegiance to him, and through him to the ship;
and from that hour forth reckoned myself a sailor.
The next day, in fulfillment of the gratefully expressed prediction of Captain Smith, we set sail.
The vessel was bound for Quilimane, on the eastern
coast of Africa, and was heavily laden. The first
three weeks after leaving the last American port were
very monotonous. An annoying alternation of spasmodic winds and dead calms rendered our progress
slow and uncertain. We had been out of sight of
land about ten days, the great sea alone all around us,
the sun rising and setting in it, the scattered clouds
coming out of and disappearing in it, —when one
morning at break of day those of us who were sleeping were startled from our slumbers by the heavy roll
of distant thunder. I jmuinped from my hammock, and
went on deck.  The whole aspect of things was




80              GREEN MIOUNTAIN
changed. The solemn ocean had assumed a new, and it
seemed to me ominous hue, and appeared smaller, like,
I could not help thinking, a monstrous serpent contracted for a spring. In the western sky were new
clouds, some of them thick and almost black, others
tinged with the prismatic hues of a summer sunrise,
and the clear blue sky was nowhere to be seen The
atmosphere, too, was changed. It was heavy; and
the scream of a sea-bird-whence no one could tell
-came painfully distinct to the ear.
About sun an hour high, Captain Smith came on
deck. A smart, east wind had sprung up since sunrise, and we were making a long tack to the south..
ward of our' course, which was southeast, under full
sail. He went aft, and with his long glass scanned
the western sky very carefully several minutes. He
then went to the wheel, and examined the ropes.
Apparently satisfied with his examination, he next
went forward, and shouted to the lookout aloft"' Keep a sharp eye ahead, there, do you hear?'"Ay, ay, sir."
Then taking a general survey from where he stood,
of the vessel, he turned to Mr. Demt, the first mate,
who, by the way, was a very obsequious, no-minded




TRAVELLERS' ENTERTAINMENT.      81
sort of individual and said in a low, serious tone,
" We shall be a good hundred knots from this point
before sundown, or some fathoms below low-water
mark, I can tell you that."'
"That's my opinion, Captain Smith," said Mr.
Demt, looking towards the west.
I beheld these significant manceuvres, and listened
to this remark of Captain Smith with the profoundest
interest. Something awful was portending, I had no
doubt, but of what it was, precisely, I had only a
vague idea.  To be sure, things looked ominously
strange; yet I had seen similar appearances on shore
pass into a clear day, or' into a dull three-days' rain.
Captain Smith's conduct, however, could not be
without a cause, thought I; and the recollection of
what I had heard about storms at sea, coming up in
this connection, shed some light and a good deal of
dread into my mind. Wfhile I was yet undetermined
how to set the matter down in my judgment, it
thundered again, a long, low, heavy roll, as though
it were under water, deep down, and rising with
heavy sweeps to the surface. The clouds in the west
grew' rapidly thicker and more cumbrous, rising
slowly, and sending out torn fragments, which, reach.
4*




82              U EIZN;:',  TA Nr'
ing in long stretches tar towards the east, began
to darken the sun. Another deep roll of thunder,
heavier, harsher than before, and the wind suddenly ceased. The -long pennant fell, and the huge
sails flapped listlessly against the masts. Captain
Smith, who had been a short time below, now came
hurriedly on deck with a speaking trumpet in his hand.
"ll11 hands into the rigging!" he shouted fiercely.
" Up! up! every one of you, and work like devils.
Furl every rag." Then, turning to the first mate, he
said-" I fear this ought to have been done before.
At all events we have not one minute to lose."
" That's my opinion, Captain Smith," echoed the
other.
At this crisis I was beckoned below by the benign
steward.  In the unusual circumstances that were
transpiring, I had forgotten my official duties, which
I now hastened to dispatch, and came again on deck
just in time to see the men hurrying fronm the bare
masts and yards, like so many frightened pigeons
from a dry tree, some flushed with agreeable expectation, others pale with fear.
The sky was now completely overcast, and every
few moments lurid flashes filled the whole scene, while




TTr; Ak ":T1.::S' EN}.S'-:I:'IT A  INmT.  83
the deep, heavy thunder rolled almost continually.
Absorbed in watching the movements on deck, I
did not notice that Senk stood by me, until he said,
grasping my shoulder with one hand rather harshly,
and pointing with the other towards the west, " See
there, lad."  I looked. There was a long streak of
white extending to the right and left out of sight. It
was rapidly approaching, and seemed to annihilate
the sea as it came. "What is that.?" I exclaimed. A
deep roar, faint, yet heavy, from the direction of the
appearance answered me. It was the vanguard of the
coming storm. I looked in Senk's face. It was
pallid. "Are we going to be wrecked a" said I, trembling with apprehension.
"I don't know, lad," he replied swallowing.
" That's the worst looking storm Iever seen, I know;
if we don't founder, there's a chance."
We,both looked in silence a few moments at the
awfully portentous object that was so rapidly and
irresistibly nearing.  Suddenly Senk started, and
taking me by the hand said-" Farewell! my lad.'
There'll be no chance for words when that's upon us,
If we go down, farewell!-ye'd better go below."
T don't, know why it was, but I had an exceeding




84             OGREEN MOUNTAIN
repugnancee to going below, and therefore told Senl
I would rather stay on deck.
" IHang on, then," he said; " ye think ye've been
pulled; but ye'll find ye never was pulled so before."
With this he left me, but returned almost immediately with a lanyard.
"' If ye will stay up here, ye must be tied,''he
said, leading me to a mast, and proceeding to make
me fast to it.
Nearer, ever more swiftly approaching, came that
ominous shape; and now. I could see the sea beyond.
All was one white sheet of foam. Nearer, nearer
it came. Nearer. Now close at hand. I was rigid
with suspense.  A  moment.  The long pennant
starts like an unsheathed sword, keen, quick, glancing off, and pointing with quivering end; the tall
masts bend; the huge ship of a thousand tons, now
like a feather, rises upon the sweeping billows,
/and the storm is upon us.
Gentlemen, I can assure those of you who have
not experienced it, that you can form no just idea
of what a strong wind at sea is. It does not seem
like wind, but like thin water, rushing in an over.
whelming, resistless tide. So fierce and swift is it,




TRAVELLERS' ENTERT'AINMIENT.     85
that the skin exposed fairly smarts. Quite painfully
did mine smart, as strapped to that mast I stood, or,
rather hung, helpless. For a full minute, I believe,
I could get no breath at all. At length, by putting
my hands over my mouth, and turning my face to
leeward, I managed to breathe after a gasping fashion.
With the same tremendous force the wind continued for nearly an hour. The vessel obeying her
rudder faithfully, shot along at an alarming speed.
The wind slacked a little, and but a little, and the
sea began to rise fearfully. The two men at the
wheel were found inadequate, and two more were
called to their assistance.  The waves increased
every moment, dashing wildly along, without beginning or end, exhaustless. The noble ship reeled and
plunged like a wounded war-horse, yet still held on
her course.
It was not long before I fully realized the importance of being secured as I was. A great wave, threefold larger than any before, came sweeping along.
"A  sea! a sea!" shouted the men at the wheel in
chorus, " A sea! a sea!" was echoed from all parts
of the deck. I drew in a full breath, and embraced
the mast. The next instant a tide ten feet above our




86              GREEN MOUNTAIN
heads dashed madly over us. The good ship swayed
as though, endowed with life, she had been dealt a
stunning blow. Would she go down? The thought
was scarcely formed when I was again breathing the
misty air. Every movable had been swept away;
and scarcely had the water subsided, when the heartthrilling cry rose above the storm. " A man overboard!" -Why raise that cry? Poor wretch! how
could they save him? HIe was a young sailor, inexperienced in such dreadful straits. They tried to
save him.  He was seen floating a short distance
away. Being a good swimmer, he sustained himself
bravely; but the cruel tide had borne him too far
from the ship. A rope was thrown, but he could
not reach it.'"A  seap! a sea!" cried the men
at the wheel, and another wave, like the first, dashed
over us. The man overboard was gone for ever.
I began to wish myself below. Matters had put
on a more serious aspect than I had anticipated. But
a few moments' reflection convinced me that the
attempt would be absurd; so I grinned defiance to
my fears, and stood prepared for whatever dispensation it should please Providence to inflict.
The wind now shifted suddenly, blowing at a sharp




TRATIVELLERS' ENT;ZRTAIiTNMENT.  87
angle with the previous track, and the waves became
smaller, but more terrible. The ship tossed frantically. No more obeying the rudder, she floated
unmnanageable, creaking, and straining as though
every moment she would part asunder. Again the
wind shifted, and became fitful. One fierce gust carried away the main-top-mast, with'a tearing crash
heard clearly above the rushing, deafening sound of
the wind and waves. The tightly furled sails began
to loosen, by slow degrees at first, though the wind
snatched as with a thousand giant fingers-then gave
way, gasket by gasket, till, flapping and tearing, they
were. carried away, leaving bare poles. It was now
nearly noon. Every change so far had been for the
worse, and our prospects were growing more dubious
every moment. As the last sail —which clung long,
like hope-was flying. in shreds, I saw Captain
Smith shake hands with Mr. Demt, who had been
continually at his side, and go below. He had not
been gone three minutes when Senk came rushing by
lie, and leaped down the hatchway. I looked to the
fore top.  The lookout, stationed there, was waving
his hat, and shouting, his face purple with exertion.
What can it mean? I inquired anxiously of myself,




88              GREEN (M)UNI'AIN
While I was looking, and striving to form some con.
jecture, the sound of Captain Smith's big feet on the
deck near me, attracted my attention. He was runn-ing-towards the bow. I had never before seen him
run, and for the moment, anxious as I was, I feli
strongly inclined to laugh, so ludicrous was the general impression his figure made upon me. Arrived at
the bow, he clapped his glass to his eye. Not being
satisfied with his position, he came back, and boldly
mounted the shrouds, which led to the lookout.  I
expected every instant to see him  fall. the ship
plunged so dreadfully. But he reached the crosstrees in safety, and putting the glass again to his eye,
lie looked, while the lookout, now more at ease, sat
with both hands partly raised, as though he were
holding the ship, sea, winds, and all things, that
Captain Smith might look. He evidently saw something. His hat blew off. Still he continued to look.
A sudden lurch of the vessel made him, perhaps for
the first time in his life, drop his glass. The wind
bore it like a thread far out into the water. Still he
continued to look.
" Our time's come," shouted some one in my lee.
ward ear. It was Senk.




TRiVELLERS' ENTERTAINMENT.     89
"What is it? what is it?" I shouted in reply.
"A  reef lies directly across her course.  No
chance now."
The consciousness of Senk's long experience on
the sea, left in me no room for doubt, and the horrors
of immediate death came upon me. For a moment
I was paralyzed. Yet, but a moment; for my mind,
reacting from the shock, became as a mirror, upon
which all my past life shone a living picture. I saw
my father and mother; my younger brothers and
sisters, and myself-rash, thoughtless boy-among
them, and my schoolmates playing at their exciting
games. The fields where I had labored in discontent
were before me; and the patient oxen that had so
often been visited with my wrath; the cows, the
sheep, the lazy swine, and the rampant calves; the
old church, and the stereotyped divine who had
warned the young goats-of which I was chief-so
often to beware; tshe quiet churchyard-and with
that I recurred to things around me. I thought of
how my father and my mother now looked, and my
brothers and sisters; how they would never know
what became-of me, ever hoping that I would return,
yet hoping in vain. Thus wandering in a reverie,




90             GREEN MOUNTAIN
insensible to the drenching spray and to the extreme
fatigue which my unchanging position occasioned
me, my eyes were attracted by an appearance
directly ahead and not far off, which resembled the
one that had characterized the approaching storm.
I turned. Senk still stood by me. " What's that." I
asked, forgetting what he had told me a few minutes
before, and vaguely anticipating a counter storm.
He made no reply. He, too, was perhaps thinking
of a quiet home far away, where knelt aged parents
at the close of day, to ask protection for one who had
gone forth upon the treacherous deep.  I repeated
my question in a higher tone.
"That white streak?" he inquired, looking intently
in the direction I pointed. "Yes, that's the reef,
Good God! we're close upon it. Say your prayers,
lad. It will soon be too late."
Captain Smith had continued to look all this time.
Perhaps he had thoughts of home. But whatsoever
occupied his mind, was to appearance suddenly
dispelled when the sun, now past the meridian,
flashed out from  the clouds which were much
broken, and shone down upon the appalling danger
ahead. -He left his position, and descending to the




TRAVELIERS ENTERTAINMENT.      91
deck, went aft. If I had dared, I would have
unfastened myself, and followed him, for I felt
attracted towards him in this awful extremity. But
it required all the skill of an experienced sailor to
walk that deck at that time, and I did not deem it
prudent for me to venture.
One by one the remainder of the crew came up
from below, the placid steward bringing up the rear.
lHe came alongside of me, and said in a voice as
calm as the exertion necessary to make me hear
allowed-"Well, they say we've got to go down to
the bottom; are you prepared to die?"
In foolish monments I had made sport of his pious
turn of mind, laughing at his laudations of the
enthusiastic sect to which he belonged-he was a
devout Methodist-and whistling  discord to his
psalmodic efforts, in which he indulged night and
morning; but- now, in my despair, I strove to lean
upon his honest piety.
"Good man, pray for me," I cried piteously.
Obedient to nay wish he knelt, and offered a short
petition to Heaven, of which I heard not a word
because of the confusion that prevailed.  As he
arose, I could not help perceiving the contrast he




92             GREEN MOUiNTAIN
presented to the rest of the crew.  Despair was
stamped upon each countenance. Some were crying
toward Heaven with beseeching looks, and uplifted
hands, others were walking to and fro gnashing their
teeth, others again sat with hands convulsively
clenched in their hair, and staring vacantly.  He,
the steward, alone was calm; the derided "St.
Ebony," as he had been often termed, leaning upon
the Power which is not of this world, stood sublimely
there, a man among those shrinking wretches.
While observing thus the contrast, I saw 2Mr. Demt
make a motion as though suggesting something to
Captain Smith, who was leaning against the quarterrail.  He immediately took the glass which Mr.
Demt handed him, and looked long and intently in a
direction contrary to the danger; then, in answer to
the anxiously inquiring gaze of his companion, he
shook his head.
The wind veered again, apparently so as to blow
us the more disastrously upon the reef-the sound of
whose breakers was plainly heard-and continuing
steadily for about five minutes, ceased almost as
abruptly as it had begun. Not so the sea. Lashed
for six hours so unsparingly by the fleet giant, it




TRAVELLERS' ENTERTAINMENT.     93
would not be lulled by the soft breeze that followed.
"What's to be done?" said Captain Smith to Mr.
Demt, as they walked slowly past me, forward.
"That's just what I was thinking, Captain Smith,"
replied the addressed.
"I don't see as anything can be done," rejoined
Captain Smith. "There's not time to do anything,
if there were any use in trying.  We must go
aground-I can see no help for it."
"That's just my opinion, Capt. Smith," said Mr.
Demt; and they walked out of my hearing.
Lurching, plunging, drifting slowly, we approached
the reef. Again Capt. Smith leaned over the quarter
rail and looked. The sun was shining most brilliantly, the sky being perfectly clear. Shifting his glass
from eye to eye, and wiping it often, then removing
it, and, squaring himself, re-adjusting it several times,
as though taking aim, Captain Smith at last threw up
his hands with a dignified gesture. Mr. IDemt walked
hurriedly to him, and taking the glass, looked. The
boatswain and two or three sailors now joined them,
and the attention of all was attracted towards their
movements. Senk stood not far from me. "Is there




94              GREEN MOUNTAIN
any hope 2" I inquired. Before he could reply, a new,
joyful cry burst from all sides —'" A sail! a sail!" I
looked towards the group. Captain Smith was smiling most cordially, and shaking hands with the obsequious mate, down whose cheeks ran tears.'a Thank
G-od! thank God!" sounded from all sides. The pious
steward was more ceremonious in his gratitude. He
knelt upon the deck and poured out his soul quite
devoutly, though the motion of the vessel thwarted
his devotions most sadly.
After the first gush, the joyous excitement on board
ebbed greatly. Of what practical use was that sail
to us? was the substance of every one's thoughts. It
was yet far distant —barely discernible with the naked eye-and in a few minutes, at most, we would be
scattered among the greedy, remorseless waves. To
add to the returning depression, it was determined
that, by the course the stranger was taking, she would
be out of sight in an hour.
Could we attract their notice?
The gun was thought of, but instantly pronounced
inexpedient. Other things were thought of, and mentioned, and some one was speaking, when, borne on a
heavy sea, the ship struck with tremendous force.




TRAVELLERSI ENTERTAINMENT.      95
Grating, and tearing, she floated off with the ebbing
billow; and before we had fairly recovered our
breath, she struck again,-this time with a crash that
sent all traces of blood from the faces of the bravest;
even the steward, for the moment, appeared slightly
faded.  Again, the third time.  She did not float
away. Another sea followed, and hove her huge bulk
further on to the unyielding reef.  Another, and
another. She poised a few moments, as though, entirely exhausted with the merciless conflict, the last
struggle had come, then sank heavily and helplessly
upon her side, a forlorn wreck. Fortunately for me,
the side of the mast I occupied proved the upper side.
Had it been the under, I must have perished. As it
was, every wave dashed over me, and I should not
have lived five minutes, had it not been for Senk and
the steward, who, foreseeing the danger, had secured
a lanyard. With their united efforts,-the steward
holding and Senk descending-I was, nearly strangled, brought to the bulwarks, and bidden to hold on
for my life.
The sea had becoile considerably calmed, but it
still ran high enough to dash over the wreck from
time to time, sunken as it was in about two fathoms




96             GREEN MOUNTAIN
of water. However, the evil was lessening, and hope
stimulated us to efforts that seemed like the efforts
of despair. While we were thus clinging to the shattered and swaying wreck, the sun went down into the
ragged bosom of the sea; and as the twilight, softened by the coming night, enabled us to see the horizon
clearly, we saw-how very grateful was the sight!we saw that the stranger had altered her course, and
was approaching us. While the first thrill of joy was
yet trembling along our nerves, Captain Smith, removing the glass through which he had been looking
for a few minutes, said, with a familiar cheerfulness
so unusual with him that some of us at first failed to
apprehend,-" Boys, she has a signal out! She sees
us!" Rapturous joy now took possession of us all.
The good steward thanked his Maker seven or eight
times, in slow, emphatic succession, and pulled out a
pocket volume of hymns essaying a song of praise;
but the sea, unmindful of him, sent a great wave
that swallowed up his book, and he gave up the
attempt.
As the darkness deepened, and the twilight faded,
we saw, dimmer and dimmer, the friendly sail, approaching; and as the new moon dipped slowly into




TRAVELLERS' ENfERTAINMENT.      97
the sea, which was very much calmed from sunset,
we saw that sail quite distinctly still approaching.
A long night was that. Exhausted by labor and
want of food, it was a wonder that we sustained ourselves in our critical position through the long, dark
hours. But we did, without the loss of a man; and
when the morning twilight opened the prospect, we
saw the stranger vessel at anchor a half mile from us,
and a small boat, manned with four vigorous oarsmen, coming to our relief.
Before nine o'clock we were all on board; and having refreshed ourselves with a most relishable breakfast, we gathered on deck, contemplating our last
night's lodgings quite seriously, for we had many
regrets. Senk actually shed tears, declaring that he
would rather have buried  his mother than seen
his home for so many years lying there helpless, to
be knocked in pieces by the next storm that should
come that way. I shed some tears with him; and he
was yet narrating to me, in q feeling manner, how the
staunch old vessel had bravely stood the onset and
the angry buffetings of the last storm of her course,
when the brisk order was given to make ready for
departure. Senk left the sentence unfinished in his
5




98              GREEN MOUNTAIN
mouth, and the next instant was at the capstan, heaving with might and main, and joining lustily in tfie
exhilarating chorus.
Soon all was ready, and slowly we left the scene of
so much hope and despair, gathering aft, as the distance increased, to catch a parting glimpse of the
wreck, and straining our eyes till the sharpest sighlted
declared it no l nger visible.




TRAVELLERS' ENTERTAINMENT.      99
CHAPTER IV.
-AT the point where the foregoing chapter ends,
the narrator was interrupted in his story, by the little
dry man rising, and stating, apologetically, that, as
his plani of travel rendered it necessary for him to
depart at a very early hour, he must, though sdmewhat against his inclination, for he was considerably
interested in the narration, and hoped it would con
tinue to prove entertaining to us,-he must, however,
with our permission, retire to bed.
We all assented by rising; and, the Quaker setting
the example, we approached severally, and taking
his withered hand, bade the unhappy man farewell.
When we had resumed our positions, and all was
still again, the supposed lawyer, after clearing his
throat, sonorously continued his story as follows —.
The stranger that had come so'opptitnerly to
our assistance, was also a trading vessel, and bolv ged
to a company in Liverpool.  It was bound TV ia




100             GREEN MOUNTAIN
same port for which our ill-fated ship had been
destined-a fortunate incident for Captain Smith, and
Mr. Demt, who had friends there, but of no account
to the rest of us, as our home was the deep, and our
friends its wandering denizens, met-it mattered not
where. Of course, I do not apply this last remark to
myself, so much as the rest of the crew, though I
have since had occasion to feel its truth somewhat.
I had hitherto served as cabin-boy, and owing to
the amiable disposition of my master, had not experienced much hardship.  So pleasant indeed,had
been my situation, that I had congratulated myself
often in view of it —especially as compared with the
tasks and oppression of my earlier boyhood. But
in the change of circumstances, generally, mine
changed also. On board the new ship, I was placed
"before the mast," and promptly initiated into the
calling of a common sailor.  The sleight-of-foot
which I had so often admired-dizzy with the contemplation, I was now forced to practice myself. Oh,
it was trying! the first trembling essay to mount to
the mast-head. I hardly think I should have accomplished it but for Senk, who volunteered to go up
just before me. With the stimulus of his cheering




TRAVELLERS' ENTERTAINMENT.     101
voice, and the consciousness of his being at hand to
assist in case of failure, I accomplished the feat in
perfect safety, returning to the deck alone. Repeating the manmcuvre often, I soon got the better of my
fears, and felt entirely at ease anywhere, from the
deck upwards, indefinitely. But the usual pleasing
excitement arising from the overcoming of obstacles wore away directly, and I became exquisitely
sensitive to the galling chain of monotonous labor
imposed upon me. The weather was generally disagreeable, being windy, and wet, in that half-way
manner, which forbids alike ease or excitement, and.
being fixedly on duty twelve hours out of the twentyfour, without regard to external circumstances, my
cup of affliction filled lip rapidly, and I felt all the
nameless agonies of an oppressed boy. I sickened at
heart, and soured in the' same locality; and in the
course of fermentation I thought much and lovingly
of my old home. I thought of it more and more
until my absence of mind attracted the notice of my
companions; and the happy turns of speech which
some of them contributed at my expense, considerably heightened the prevailing state of mind under
which I labored. Yet Senk stood by me, and com




102             GREEN MIOUNTAIN
forted me hopefully. Had it not been for him, I
might have gone down under the load. But his kindness did not hinder my being seized finally with
home-sickness, in one of its most demolishing forms.
Home-sickness! thou pale-faced embodiment of
fondregrets, hovering over the weary and oppressed,
far from  the roof that echoed the cries of their
infancy,-hovering kindly with an aroma emanating
from  thee which embalms the scenes which fond
memory brings,-touching with soft, feeble fingers
the heartstrings.  0, thou —but I will not tarry
hoping to grow eloquent. Suffice it to say, that I
was growing worse daily, when a decided circumstance put an end to my ailment, quite magicallyat once, and for ever. It was this:
One sunny afternoon, soon after doubling Cape
Good Hope-by-the-by, the first sunshine we had
meen visited with for three weeks-I was sitting on
dhe taiffrail thinking of the sunny afternoons of my
earlier life. The genial rays of the sun gave the run
of my mind a dreamy character, separating me quite
distinctly from surrounding things. From reverie,
encouraged by the silence and general harmony
which prevailed, the transition to real sleep was




TRhAVELLERS' ENTERTATINMENT.   103
quite easy and natural-so easy and natural, that I
underwent it, and my centre of gravity being nicely
adjusted, I remained wrapped in serene slumber for a
time. As sleep deepened upon me, my muscles
insensibly relaxed, particularly those of my arms and
hands, which embraced my knees. Suddenly my
fingers parted asunder, and with an unreserved lurch
I departed headlong backwards into the sea. I came
to the surface in a state of disputed possession
between air and water —an idea of sharks, however,
taking partial lead of my confused faculties, and
imparting a spasmodic stimulus, I succeeded in
maintaining my head, until a line, with a buoy
attached, thrown to me from the receding ship,
enabled my comrades to draw me in, which they did
in silence until I was safely on deck; then transpired
a great shout and a miscellaneous waving of tarpaulins which made me feel quite distinguished. The
cure was perfect. I felt as though I had poured
myself out a libation to the sea, and was thenceforth devoted to it.
Our voyage thenceforward was without accident or
incident worthy of recapitulation. Arrived at the destined port, we, who had belonged to the wrecked




104             GREEN MOUNTAIN
vessel, went out two and two and separated, some of us
for ever. Senk seemed to have incorporated me into
the narrow sphere of his hopes and desires.  He
clung to me as a father to a child. Being without
employment we set about seeking the same. We
succeeded after some search in finding a vessel,
which having in a late storm lost a part of her crew,
accepted our proffered services with a promise of
fair remuneration, and accordingly we went on
board and took up quarters. It was an English
vessel, not so large as the one we had quitted, but
better appointed. It was engaged in the East India
trade, and was on its way out, being only incidentally
in that port for the purpose of refitting.  At that
time great danger from pirates was incurred in navigating some parts of the Indian Ocean, and every
trading vessel was more or less provided with means
of self-defence.  Our ship carried four pieces of
ordnance, and had also a small armory.- These I
discovered the next day after going on board, while
perambulating, cat-fashion, for the purpose of forming more intimate acquaintance  With my new home;
and I also discovered some marks which suggested
an idea of war. I asked a sailor who stood near as




TRAVELLEIRS' ENTERTAINMENT.   105
to their origin. From him I learned that the ship
had already seen two desperate conflicts with pirates,
and had been metaphorically named'The Irresistible,' on account of having come off conqueror
both times. I swung in my hammock that night to
the imaginary cadence of imaginary fifes and drums,
and saw in my dreams great fields of men mowed
down, and the whole swallowed np in a shoreless sea
of blood.
Our captain's name was Thims. He was as much
the reverse of Captain Smith as was the orthography of his name. He was a tall, well-proportioned, robust, sunny man —everybody's friend as
long as everybody would allow him to be, but a
most implacable enemy to any one who saw fit to
refuse him friendship. He was jovial among his
shipmates to an uncolumon degree, and strongly
prepossessed in favor of the world at large. Every
sailor on board, except one sulky old hound —of
whom I shall have something to say by-and-by —
was his familiar and ever cordially greeted friend;
and so much was he beloved by them, that the fulfillment of his wishes was at all times a most binding
duty amorg them.
5*




t06             GREEN MOUNTAIN
Being duly refitted and rendered sea-worthy, our
ship's prow was turned seaward, and we.were soon
again far out upon the deep.
Months passed. I continued to perform my nautical duties faith;fully, and in a measure successfully,
making great initiatory progress. Being quick and
vigorous, I soon acquired all those tricks of ascent
and descent, of balancing and turning summersault
which so puzzle a landsman in a sailor, and could
climb and leap, and swing, and shout'" Ay, ay, sir!"
with the lustiest. Everything went on smoothly.
The vessel was duly freighted to the entire satisfaction of the agents employed by the house that
owned her, and we turned prow towards London.
Our voyage to that commercial emporium was
slow and quiet, without prominent incidents. It
consumed several months.
Tarrying at London three or four weeks, we again
put to sea. Again our voyage was prosperous, and
tedious, until we reached the vicinity of Cape Good
ICopb. HIere we mnet with a narrow escape. A sudden, rampant squall, peculiar to that coast, came up
in the night, and blowing directly ashore, bore us unmercifully along with it. Happily: we were so far




TRAVELLERS ENTERTAINMIENT.     107
advanced upon our course as to have passed the worst
part of the promontory; yet there was one rock, as it
afterwards appeared, from which we were savedbarely
by one somewhat surprising circumstance. The sulky
sailor, to whom  I have before alluded, was at the
wheel. I-He was a gigantic fellow, having fully the
strength two ordinary men, and proud of his strength,
or, rather, taking a malicious pleasure in exhibiting it,
hewould never brook the assistance of another in the
discharge of his duties as helmsman. It was very
dark.  Captain Thims was on the quarter deck,
attending to the report of soundings from the man in
the main chains, when he perceived dimly a dark object to the starboard, which he took for a rock.
"Hard a-starboard! hard a-starboard!" he cried
at the top of his voice.
4'Ay, ay, sir," was the hoarse response, and the
prow turned short, and plowed directly into, instead
of away from, the dark object, while at the same instant, from larboard mid-ships, came the despairing
cry —" A rock! a rock! we're lost 1"  But we were
not lost. The dark object proved an illusion; the
danger was opposite. The grim helmsman had saved
us, though he had intended, as all thought, to dash




108            GREEN MIOUNTAIN
the ship upon the rock. Why Captain Thims retained
this man in his service I never knew. There seemed
a bond between them, like the fabled bond which
secured prospectively to His Satanic Majesty the souls
ot men. A more sincere, deep-rooted, infernal hatred could scarcely exist between two mortals, than
exhibited itself now and then between them. Yet
there. were times when they walked arm  in arm
with each other, but as we might suppose embodied
thunderbolts to walk arm in arm. On such occasions
there was a pallor in the captain's face, and a most
malignant frown on the face of the other, which it
was frightful to behold. They were sometimes in the
cabin by themselves for hours; and at such times,
those who were near heard horrible, hissing words,
and grating and gnashing of teeth. The grim giant
would accept of no other situation than that of common sailor, though by experience, he was fully adequate to the command of any vessel in any latitude,
the second mate said one day in my hearing, and I
have no doubt that it was so. Altogether it was
quite a mysterious affair, and gave rise to much rough
speculation among the superstitious of our crew.
Except the narrow escape at the Cape there was




TRAVELLERS' ENTEUITAIMENT.     109
nothing occurred to mar or relieve the quiet monotony of our voyage, and we cast anchor one beautiful
morning at sunrise, in the port of Borneo-which
was the first point of destination.
We remained there nearly two months, much of
the time idle, waiting for something, but no one could
tell what, for all the freight we were to take on there
was shipped during the first ten days of our stay. It
was surmised, and quite loudly talked of, that "the
Devil"-such was the expressive cognomen by which
the giant sailor was known among us-had a hand in
the unusual delay. How far this surmise was correct,
may be inferred from the sequel.
Finally, after the long, long, and most tiresome waiting for what turned out to be literally nothing, so far
as I could see or learn, the welcome order to weigh
anchor was given. We hastened to obey it, and were
soon ploughing away under full sail before a good
breeze. We were bound thence for Manilla, there to
complete our freight. A Spanish family had taken
passage on board our vessel-a new circumstance,
somewhat agreeably disturbing the usual routine of'
my previous life. It was a family of six-the father
and mother middled-aged, of dignified demeanor, evi.




110            G1REEN MOUNTAINdently accustomed from childhood to the careful observance of all the little decencies of life; a daughter
and her husband, enjoying the first raptures of the
honeymoon,-and well did those raptures become
them; —a younger daughter in the bud of Imaidenhood, and a little ruddy-cheeked boy, seven or
eight years old.  They all spoke English with passable fluency, and during the day-time were much on
deck, conversing with thei captain and mates, and enjoying the grateful sea breezes. The bride attracted
my attention particularly. I think in all mny travels
on this great globe, I have never met a being that has
superseded, in my judgment, that gentle, beaming
creature. Though so young at the time that I could
only receive the impression without second thought,
I have since speculated upon it seriously, and make
my statement soberly. It was not so much owing to
the regularity of her features, nor the melting con.
tour of her harmonious form, that made her appear so
very beautiful; it was the indescribable "general
effect," as artists say,-the radiance of virgin passion
just putting forth its last, ripest, richest beauties under the genial influence of kindred passion bestowed
without reserve. The groom was a fit companion to




TRAVELLERS' ENTERTAINMENT.      111
her: —tall, with a noble and graceful bearing, he, too,
was more graceful, more nobly beautiful for the passion that absorbed him  The younger daughter was a
sweet, lovable girl, full. of honest curiosity, which she
so artlessly sought to gratify that she stood in constant need of check from her parents. She went about
talking with everybody, asking a great many unnecessary, and sometimes unanswerable questions, yet
expressing surprise so ingenuously, followed with such
a sweet, playful smile, that it seemed a delightful
privilege to answer her. She seemed at first to confine her investigations to the medium of the older sailors; but they soon took such a promiscuous character
that I began to fear an approach. You must bear
in mind that I was quite young then; and I was moreover very bashful in the presence of the other sex.
In this case particularly so, as she walked about in
my eyes almost an angel. My fears harrowed me so
much that I became quite'nervous, which illy prepared me for what actually happened. I was standing near Senk, to whom she was addressing some
questions, importing a desire to know more explicitly
the process of navigation by night. Having received
the answers she desired, with the usual remunerating




112            GREEN MOUNTAIN
smile, she turned her beaming face full on me, and
said, as though she hardly anticipated an answer,
" Do you like to be a sailor." If she did not expect
reply, she was not disappointed, for in my confusion
I could not utter a word. Seeming to take compassion upon my disturbed condition, she passed on, but
presently returned, asking me, with a serious look, if I
had any father and mother. During the minute that
had elapsed, the first upheaval had subsided, and I
quite calmly told her I had, and a sister, too, like her,
far off in America. To this she replied, asking where
America was,-then suddenly recollecting, she proceeded to answer herself, and went on to ask many
questions about my home, which I answered very
elaborately, and with much emotion. Then she told
me about her home in Borneo; and she was yet telling me in a very animated manner about the garden
she had there, when her mother called her, and they
went below.
Gentlemen, I love the sunshine, and I approach
darkness unwillingly. I love to recall that beam
which for a brief space cheered my-wandering boyhood; but the recollection of the'darknes, that
followed, has a deep shadow of terror to me, though




TRAVELLERS  ENTERTAINMENT      113
a quarter of a century has passed since its awful
folds blotted from the world, so much beauty and
rapturous hope, so much rough, yet sterling integrity,
and real, honest humanity. I would spare your
hearts the recital, but you have required a story of
me, and this is a part of it, and must be told.
It was a breezy evening in October, cool for that
latitude. The day had closed with a doubtful sky.
Big, detached clouds that seemed to have no water
in them, yet were very thick and black, came, and
passed on to the South steadily, and somewhat
rapidly. We had been out f'rom Borneo six days. The
winds having been adverse, we had made slow progress, and were on that evening making a tack which
was carrying us off the Eastern shore of Palawau.
There was no land in sight. The sea was slightly
ruffled, but only so much as to give a pleasant motion
to the vessel, and the barometer indicating no change
of weather for the present, a general quiet pervaded
the whole ship's company. The larboard watch, to
which I belonged, was on duty. There being no need
of active labor, the sailors gathered in groups, listening to each other's yarns, many times told before, yet
always interesting to those who told them, and tc




114            GREEN MOUNTATN
those who listened, of course. The passengers had
come on deck just before sunset, and still remained,
forming a group on the quarter-deck, with Captain
Thims and the first mate. Not having been long
enough at sea to be interested in a twice-told tale, I
separated from my companions, and being perhaps
attracted somewhat, by the sweet Castilian muccaccha
who had so innocently entranced me, I drew near
to the last-mentioned group. They were talking of
the dangers of navigation. The father of my little
beauty was telling a story, how, in his boyhood, he
drifted out to sea with the tide in an open boat, and
how, having been picked up when almost dead, by a
brig, he went on a voyage of six\ months, returning
home to his parents, who supposed him dead. This
reminded Captain Thims of one similar, that had an
excellent joke in it, which he rehearsed with such a
hearty joviality, that we laughed until we were out
of breath, and then laughed again purely on his
account. We had scarcely done laughing, when the
little ruddy-cheeked boy, whom I had noticed for
some time back, standing a short distance apart from
the company, looking intently, and rather wildly, all
along the Eastern horizon, came running up to his




TRAVELLERS' ENTERTATINMENT.     115
mother,. and laying his head in her lap, began to
cry.
"What's the matter, my child?" inquired the
mothers with much solicitude.
"My little son, what ails you?" joined in the
father.   "Hush! hush! I'm  ashamed of you."
" What is the matter with my little boy?" again
inquired the mother, feeling him  shudder, as she
remarked aside. But the little fellow cried on, burying his head deeper in his mother's lap.
"'What ails the child?  This is quite unusual,"
remarked the father, stepping forward to raise him
up. But he clung frantically to hia mother, crying as
if in real despair.- " Don't let them take me-don't,
mother!"
"Who? Why, my love, don't you want to come
to father "
The tender, familiar voice seemed to soothe him a
little, and, looking anxiously around, he finally gave
himself up to his father, in whose arms he soon fell
asleep.
"Miild I tell ye there's bloody breakers ahead, or
I never seen a capstan."
We looked around. It was an old sailor, grey




116             GREEN MOUNTAIN
headed and scarred,-noted on board for his extreme
taciturnity and dullness; and as he stood there
then, his face lit up as with a flash of internal light
slowly fading, a thrill of terror sent the blood from
the face of every one who heard him. Captain
Thims appeared peculiarly agitated, rising hurriedly
and without ceremony going below. The family soon
followed him, descending reluctantly and whispering
among themselves. As I walked away towards the
forecastle, I was somehow vaguely impressed with the
idea that " the Devil "-who, being of the starboard
watch, was below in his hammock, might explain the
mysterious phenomena I had just witnessed. It was,
however, but the passing shadow of a thought, and
I joined the knot of sailors nearest at hand, listening
to what was being said. I found that the circumstance of the child's fright on'the quarter-deck had
attracted their attention, and had given rise to stories
of the most bloody and extravagant character, concerning pirates, particularly of the Sooloo pirates, in
whose seas we were then sailing. I listened awhile,
and then went on, visiting the other groups in succession. I found the same spirit prevailing, blood
and battles being the burden of every tale. At




TRAVELLERS' ENTERTAINMENT.     117
Length I grew weary and sick at the recitals, which
to keep up the excitement became ridiculously
extravagant, and went aft by myself alone, gazing off
into the sky —now nearly overcast with heavy, swiftmoving clouds —feeling very gloomy indeed. It was
ten o'clock; I felt uneasy and lonely, and thirsting
for some sort of social diversion, I bethought me of
the helmsman, who had a few minutes before taken
his post-a burly, broad-faced, good-natured fellow, to
whom I owed a debt of gratitude for having once
saved my life. Being near the wheelhouse, I entered
noiselessly. HTe was standing fixedly at his post,
eyeing abstractedly the huge compass before him.
He did not notice me when I cane in, and stood
watching a minute or more before he seemed conscious of my presence. When he did, he started
with a great, blank look of surprise-" Heh! lad!
It's you? Is it dark out? Yes, by the gods!" he continued, looking out earnestly; " dark as the hold of
a slaver. Damme! but I wish we had a moon
to-night. Where's the captain, lad?"
" Ile is below," said I. " Went below in a hurry,
some time ago —two or three hours, perhaps-and
hasn't been up since."




118            GREEN MOUNTTAIN
"What's that a Ah! I mind me now. When tho
little boy was scart so."
"Yes," I affirmed; continuing,'" that was a
curious affair," and was going to say something
more, when he broke in musingly, "Quite nat'ral,
quite riat'ral. I've seen that same afore," and looked
again abstractedly at the compass. Again I contemplated him a minute or more. He seemed unconscious of any one near him. This surprised me.
Abstraction was something quite foreign to his
nature; he was caways so bright and full of heartiness and redundant humor, that I knew now something very unusual weighed upon him. While I was
looking  at him, getting  rapidly back-in part
through sympathy-to my former gloom, he raised
his head slowly, and gazing rather vacantly at me,
said in a low voice-"IBoy that's very serious to
think on. It makes me very melancholy. ID'ye
know, boy, we're in dangerous seas? I seen a huilk
in Borneo this day week that told a tale! If ye'd a
seen the blood, dark stains o' blood, boy, ye'cl not
stood so quietly as ye do now. Them d-d Sooloos
make clean work wi' life, boy, but dirty work wi'
the boclyv o' vmnn." After half a minute he continued,




TRAVELLERS' ENTERTAINMENT.     119
"6 Will ye go below, and tell Captain Thims to come
to this wheel-house directly?" As I passed along
towards the companion-way to execute the order, I
saw the old, grey-headed, scarred sailor scouring
with desperate industry an old scimitar.  tHe was
murmuring to himself; and as I passed close by him,
I caught the words, " pirates "-" morning "-" all
dead." As I crept down to find the captain, I
noticed that no lamp had been lit below, a thing that
had never before happened within my sea-faring
experience. For some foolish cause this circurnstance affected me very much. I felt for the first
time afraid. An undefined sense of something awful
impending stole over -me.
Making my way blunderingly to the captain's
room, I boldly entered. He was deeply engaged
with a sea-chart, and had lost all traces of agitation.
I communicated the helmsman's request, mentioning
his name.  "Why, what ails Bill to-night?" he
replied pleasantly.'"He's not apt to have bugbears.": He continued, rising, "I'll attend to his
case. Go back to your duty."  There were signs of
agitation in his manner as he followed me out, which
I partook of largely as I followed him along the dark




120            GREEN MOIOUNTAIN
way, now more light by reason of a small lantern he
carried, up to the deck. Surmising that the meeting
in the wheel-house would have something to do with
the cause of the great fear that had fallen upon me,
I approached and looked in from a little distance.
They stood for some minutes in close conversation,
the captain assuming a laughing indifference, the
sailor evidently painfully serious. At length. Captain Thims turned on his heel, and was coming out.
Bill's voice took a higher pitch, and I caught the
words. "Ye'd better keep him  from  the wheel.
Now I tell ye, ye wrong us all by not doing as I tell
ye."
"Shame on you, Bill," returned the captain.
6 You're  unreasonable.  That was purely accidental."'" Well, sir, ye're commander. The ship's your'n,
but the lives of us all are not your'n. But you and I
can't agree. It must go as you say." The captain
stepped back, and patting him  on the shoulder,
assured him it was an idle whim, and whirling,
hurriedly left the spot, yet not so quickly but that
my sharpened vision detected an unusual nervousness
in his step, and a pallor in his countenance. "Well,




TRAYVELLER' ENTERTANMIENT.    121
Bill," ejaculated I with a long respiration, looking in
at door.' Boy," he answered, "' come in, I want to talk to
you."
I obeyed, and in a whisper he entered upon a
detail of what possessed him, the substance of which
was, that,we were in a dangerous situation: that he
had a deadly fear of'the Devil,' heightened by the
recollection of the incident at the Cape; that his trick
at the wheel would come off between two and four
in the morning, as he was informed; he wouldn't say
just what he thought; he blamed Captain Thims;
didn't know as Captain Thims could help it; and
ended by wishing most heartily we had a moon. I
knew his experience and his gobd sense, and his remarks multiplied my fears, so that I was almost afraid
to leave him. But I summoned courage enough and
went forward, joining the rest.  They had ceased
telling stories, and were ominously silent. I sought
out Senk, and sitting down close to him, experienced
a feeling of safety quite soothing, until he, turning
suddenly upon me, said in an emphatic whisper,
"Phil, I am afraid." This roused my ghastly fears
to such an extent, that I believe I should have gone




-122            GREEN MIOINTAIN
to my hammock against orders, hoping for relief
there, had not the announcement that it was midnight given us all permission to go.
I went below with the rest and turned in. At
first I could not sleep. Mfy fears took bodily shapes.
Red fires gleaming from the basements of massive
buildings-creeping fires that no one could quench,
making their insidious way to powder magazines;
hairy, black, grim fiends in human form sneaking
noiselessly along, and stabbing up beneath our hammocks; shrinking females frantically climbing the
shrouds, and, pursued by the ferocious monsters,
plunging from the yards into the dark sea. Thus
was I assailed. Fancying that I heard something, I
started up and listened. An unusual quiet prevailed.
The most inveterate snorer gave not so mach as a
snort to remind one of his existence. Yet they were
all in their berths. I heard one of them groan. I
Iay down again, and again my fears took bodily
shapes. I was in an open boat at sea, out of sight of
land. The sea was smoother than I had ever seen it
before. There was not a breath of wind: so still it
was, that it hardly seemed there was any atmosphere
at all, and yet I was borne rapidly along, or, sta



TRA'TELLERS' ENTERTAINMET.    123
tionary myself, the sea moved-I knew not nor cared;
something of vital and vast importance hung upon
me it seemed. First, it was the pretty Castilian
maiden. I tried in the dim horizon to see her. I
looked, and looked until I saw her. She was in the
air floating like a gossamer. She waved her hands
as if keeping time to some blissful cadence. She
swayed, and swam, and danced with airy leaps
far before me. Now, I could not see her face. The
hands were gone; no, there was one remaining, Its
wavy motion was gone. It writhed. Her face turned
towards me. The palor and ghastliness of death
were there. It was to save her life that I was sweeping madly along. And now it was distinctly the sea
that moved. The foam at the prow of my boat was
gone, and I was being borne rapidly away! The
white hand beckoned, beckoned-despair was in the
tremor of its fingers, but I could not come.
Then I was far away. The sea narrowed-became
a river narrowing. Beautiful shores smiled upon me.
Then one continuous city lined them. Majestic
castles; hanging-gardens watered by silvery fountains; heaven-reaching spires in endless profusion
met my eye on either side; yet there was a hue of




124             GREEN MOUNTAIN
blood about it all that terrified me. The river narrowed-narrowed, became a creek. Tile city disappeared. I was on land, standing by a battered hulk.
There were blood stains upon it, and men sweaty and
worn with toil were striving to wash them off. Upon
-that hulk stood the form of the gigantic sailor, bearing the same expression of hot vengeance I had often
seen.  I beheld him  awe-stricken. A  sweet, soft
voice in the air said "Vanish!"  He smote his
breast, and the blood-shot, gleaming eyes left their
sockets; the long matted hair passed off in shreds
upon the passing wind, and his giant bulk fell a mass
of rattling bones to the ground.
Again I was in the open sea, still bent upon my
inission, which grew more important as it grew more
vague and objectless. My father and mother were
with me. A single red light gleamed in the cloudy
sky. It became brighter and brighter. It was the
face of the beautiful bride. She smiled upon us,
and waved her hand away as if to some distant land
whither she was going, and a clear, angelic voice
came over the sea-" I am on earth no more,"-" No
more," was the soft echo that sank sleeping upon the
distant waves.




TRAVELLERS' ENTERTAINMENT.    125
I turned around. M/~y father and mother were
gone. The sea and cloudy sky were gone. I was
upon a mountain top-upon a crag that overhung a
beautiful valley far, far down. In that valley were
men struggling in mortal combat. Among them
was Captain Thims, armed to the teeth. I saw him
fall. A bloody knitf grasped by a giant hand-a
bloody face flashed in the sun. It was a face that I
knew-the face of the' grim  sailor. "You are a
murderer," I shouted. In deafening tones my voice
pealed down the mountain side. A thousand echoes
caught it up, and rung it far, far away, until the
earth shook as with the roll of distant thunder.
Hark! It has become suddenly still-dark and still.
A hand is on mine. I start as though stung by a
serpent.
"What! boy, ye afraid?"  Pshaw! I had been
sleeping. "Bill," said I in a whisper, for he whispered, " did it thunder just now?"
"No. I guess ye must a-heard' the Devil' taking
his place at the wheel.  It has been mighty still
otherwise, I tell ye. Boy, I do'wish'twas morning.
Boy, T have a plan. Senk and me has been talking
it over. We can't neither of us sleep, and we're




126            GREEN MOUNTAIN
going slily on deck, to watch a little, you know.
Wouldn't ye go along?"'Yes, lad," put in Senk,
hoarsely whispering, " come along." I needed no
urging. We went together on deck, taking up our
position on the forecastle. Senk, experienced and
sagacious, noticed at once, that the wind was from a
new quarter. He communicated the fact to Bill, who
thought it very singular, as we were still on the same
tack he knew. The wind was directly astern. Possibly it had changed. Nothing more was said on the
subject for a while. Senk had had a dream, very
extravagant, very disastrous. IHe told it to us elaborately in a whisper, which became subvocal at
emphatic passages. Then I told mine. Between the
two dreams, nearly an hour passed. After my dream
was told, we were silent. "It's strange Mr. Dory
don't notice this change in the wind. HIe must be
asleep," remarked Senk.  "It is strange," replied
Bill, and there was silence again. The weight of the
night began to show itself upon Senk. He was nodding; and a peculiar indifference was creeping upon
me, when a whisper-with a deep ominous tone
which stopped my heart dead still for an instantsaid, "We're off our course) or the north star has




TRANI ELLES' ENTERTAINMENT.   127
changed place."  I looked, in the direction B3ill's
finger was pointing. A rent in the clouds showed a
patch of sky. There it was, the north star right off
astern.  At the same time there was a movement
on the quarter. " What are you about there at the
wheel, asleep?" shouted the mate, and then proceeded
to order a put about, concluding with a hope that he
at the helm, would keep awake. "Ay, ay, sir!" —
wide awake enough, we thought. The clouds closed
again.- Had an angel opened them that. we might
see?-Still the wind  continued from  the same
quarter. "Passing strange Mr. Dory don't notice it,"
reflected Senk. But Mr. Dory was a dull, amiable
man, and did not notice it. " Captain Thinms must
know this" said Bill, agitated, though determined;
"and I'll go and tell him now."  We had no
objection, and he started. Just as he reached the companion-way he was hailed by Mr. Dory. " Halloa!
larboard, what you doing here.?" Then followed a
silence, broken to Senk and me by Bill and MIr.
Dory coming forward in close, subdued conversation.
I was listening, when Senk laid his hand, which
trembled, upon my arm, and speaking aloud, told
me to look forward, out on the sea. Far out on the




128             GREEN MQOUNTAIN
distant horizon, directly in our course, I saw a bloodred light —small yet distinct-like the single red
light of my dream. Mr. Dory saw it, Bill saw it,
and we stood looking intently at it for half a minute,
perhaps when it disappeared.
"TPeace, and good will to men, I say; for the kingdom  of Heaven is at hand to some of us, that's
fixed," commented Senk.
"I believe you, Bill," said Mr. Dory.' We have
a traitor here. Do you keep watch here, and I'll
attend to him."  Summoning half a dozen men to
his assistance, Mr. Dory proceeded without noise to
the wheelhouse. I attended them. We halted near,
where we could distinctly see the object of our suspicions. His strong hands were firm on the wheel, his
dark, lowering gaze fiercely directed towards the
point where the' light had appeared.  The mate
entered and touched his shoulder. He started, yet
seeing who it was, sneered most scornfully, and.turned. away.  "Where are you driving us to?"
firmly demanded Mfr. Dory. "To I-l," was the
contemptuous reply. "Well, sir, you can leave this
wheel,-the sooner the better."  "Have you orders
from the captain?" coolly inquired the other.




TRAVELLERS'  E1NTERTAINMENT.   129'That happens to be none of your business,"
retorted the mate.
"Well, sir, I shan't leayve without orders from
him."
"We'll help you," quietly responded Mr. Dory,
and ordered the men to arrest him.  This was
achieved through much struggling, and hard words
and the giant was carried below.
Another man was appointed to the wheel; the
light at the prow was extinguished, and the one in
the wheel-house carefully screened. Our course was
resumed, bearing away from the portentous light,
which  had  again  appeared, larger, apparently,
nearer.
" Where is the second mate of this vessel?" sounded harshly through the darkness. It was the voice of
Captain Thims, scarcely recognizable for its hoarseness and depth. There was no answer. " Is any one
at the wheel?" he demanded, walking that way. No
answer. Coming to the wheel-house, he said with a
fierceness strange indeed for him, addressing the
helmsman, " Scoundrel! I'll stab you to death if you
don't tell me what this means this instant. I'll not
be fooled with this way.  Where's the second male"
6*




130             GREEN MOUNTAI1
tell me, d —n you! quick, or I'll blow out your
brains."  The man, frightened at the dreadful anger
which possessed the Captain, confusedly told him the
state of things.
"Poor devil!' ejaculated  Captain Thims, "he
don't know what he has done. Where is he-the
mate?"
"Look yonder, will you," said the mate, now at
his side, and pointing to the light. Captain Thims
looked; but the light had disappeared, and he saw it
not. "<Do you know what you are about, you rascal?" said he to Mr. Dory.  "]Recall that man
instantly, and put him at the wheel."
" I beg of you, Captain Thims, to consider" —' Not one word, sir, if you will not drive me to extremities," interrupted the captain, making a gesture
towards the pistol in his breast pocket. Astounded
at the unaccountable conduct of Captain Thims, the
mate recalled'the Devil,' and placed him at the
wheel.. This done, he suggested to Captain Thims
the necessity of arming the crew.  "'All fudge,"
sneered the captain.  " If you are afraid, go below,
the whole of you. I'll take charge of the vessel till
morning."




TRAVELLERS  ENTERTAINiMENT.  131
Though this was said in an ironical manner, we
took him  at his word by common consent, and
went below. The larboard watch were apprised
of what was going on, and getting up, we all proceeded to the armory, where each procured a weapon.
The first mate proposed going on deck. But Mr.
Dory, knowing the consequences, dissuaded him. "A
few minutes more, and we shall be called on deck!
I fear resistance will be vain. This is to my mind
but the consummation of a deep plot, which so far
has had no hindrance. I do not implicate Captain
Thims; but I do think he is deceived-or perhaps
he can't help it. His conduct is strange, unaccountable. But let us fight like men. The case is by no
means hopeless." Thus talked Mr. Dory in a whisper, the last two remarks being spoken aloud. Then
Mr. Remy, the first mate, offered some remarks. He
was yet speaking when the sharp report of a pistol
was heard, and the sound of- quick, heavy footsteps
overhead. "On, men! Follow me!" shouted Mr.
Dory, unsheathing his sword, and rushing up the
companion-way.  Desperately we struggled up.
Three succeeded in reaching the deck. Establishing
a footing there, they guarded the advent of those be,




132             GREEN l MIOUNTAIW
hind. I was the fifth. For an instant I was appalled.
Throngs of black, ugly fiends were pouring over the
bulwarks and making for the hatchway. Despair
made me brave, and I sprang upon the deck. I had
just time to see the reeling form of Captain Thims
swaying towards us, the target of a dozen pikes, when
a strong blow laid me senseless.
I must have remained in that condition several
hours. When I recovered consciousness the deck was
deserted. All was still about the ship. It was broad
daylight. I arose with difficulty and looked around.
The first object of which I got a distinct idea, was the
dead body of Mr. Dory. I thought I heard a noise in
the wheel-house. I went there, hoping to find some
one alive. It was the breathing of the giant sailor had
attracted me. He was lying on his back, a loathsome
object. His eyes and nose had been shot away, apparently by a close discharge. Did Captain Thims do
this? and was that first report the one? So I thought,
as I turned away. Dead bodies were lying thickly all
around. The conflict had been bravely sustained.
Senk-the good Senk-was among the dead; and
Bill, too, and Captain Thims, the first mate, and
many more. I found and recognized them one by




TRAYELLERS  ENTERTAINMEENT.  133
one. Yet they were not all there. The strife must
have been continued below, thought I, and approached
the hatchway for the purpose of descending. Suddenly I heard steps and strange sounds below. They
approached. What could I do? Flight was absurd.
I had, then, been left for dead. The fiends were yet
on board. Fear chained me to the spot. In a few
moments a huge, fiat, bushy head, with small tiger
eyes, thick, pug nose, and monstrous mouth, showed
itself. It contemplated me for a short space, with a
greedy grin. Another moment and I was in a grasp
of iron. My hands and feet were quickly tied, and I
was laid on my back to await the caprice of my captor.
From my position I could not see what was going
on; but from what I could hear, I concluded the
savages were plundering the ship at their leisure. I
lay perhaps an hour, when my captor came, and taking me up as he would have taken up a bundle of
merchandise, handed me down the side of the ship to
his comrades, who stowed me away among some
boxes and trunks, and left me to myself.
Imagining death could not be very immediate,
I gradually gave way to the stupor which sought
possession of me, and fell asleep. The effects of




134            GREEN MOUNTAIN
several causes conspired to plunge me into a deep,
dreamless slumber, in which I remained till late in the
afternoon. I awoke to find myself aboard of a large,
rough-hewn, sort of an ancient galley. It had one
sail, an irregular shaped sheet, intended for square,
and it was steered by means of a long oar. There
were five other large boats like the one I was on,
besides several small craft manned by six to twelve
men each. Their course seemed to be southeast.
On board the concern which carried me, I counted
thirty men —all huge  and muscular, apparently
picked. There was no deck-only a kind of cabin in
the afterpart, in which the master sat enthroned like
a monarch: —indeed, he was king, as it afterwards
appeared,-chieftain of the whole swarm. I was on
board the admiral!
My bonds having been removed during my sleep, 1
was free to walk, and scrutinize as inclination
directed. After forming an idea of my general situation, I followed up my investigations, and became
quite interested in the phenomena transpiring around
me. The hideous forms of the beings that peopled
the squadron all looked pretty much alike, differing
only in degrees of hideousness. Their motions were




TRAVELLERS' EITERTAZiMEiNT.   135
awkward, and clumsy like black bears', and sly: —
everything was done second-handed. If one wished
to pick his nose, for instance, he would put up his
hand and scratch the backside of his head, and then
slide his hand clandestinely forward under his chin,
and so on, up to his nose, dabbing it a little, and
finally making a gesture with the hand to cover the
manceuvre.  Their language was inexpressible, at
least it seemed so literally. Of all the lingual incongruities that made Babel a tower of nonsense, I think
this must have been the most unconformable. The
act of speech to them was apparently an act of partial
strangulation, into which they were perseveringly
plunging and recovering from doubtfully, to the great
distortion of the countenance and of the whole body.
If an orator had existed among them, I think the
effect of his elocution must have depended upon
his actual death by strangulation, and a syncope of
the auditory through giving applause.
After amusing myself for a time with contemplating and comparing, I became sensible of a great
hunger prowling within. I approached my captor,
whom I knew by a deep scar in his forehead, and
aked haim for food, as well as I could by signs. Die




136            GREEN iMOiNTAIN
guising the act with a feint or two, he fuitively drew
forth from a bag which hung- before him, a piece of
dried meat, and gave me. In my hunger I ate vora,
ciously, not noticing until I came to the last morsel
that it had a texture and flavor entirely new; and I
did not stop to think of it then, but asked him for
more. He lifted up the leopard-skin robe that was
slung loosely over him, and displaying his brawny
thigh, made a carving motion upon it, and shook
the empty bag. How was I to understand this? To
signify he had no more, shaking the bag would have
been sufficient. Why carve his thigh in that imagi.
nary way? The idea must not be harbored. I
should starve. I walked away. But the idea clung
to me like a repulsive odor; it impregnated me like
a drug, deeper and deeper. Dizzy, nauseated, I went
to the side of the boat, and there my stomach
promptly performed its disagreeable function. I
was freed, and thankful. Human flesh! Could a
Christian conscience, much less a Christian stomach,
bear such aliment? I chose starvation rather.
Quietly and beamingly the day passed on its
western journey: sadly and quietly the night closed
in. As the last soft flush of evening twilight melted




TRAVELLERS' ENTERTAINMENT.    137
from the skirts of night, a sea-bird went wailing intc
the far west. The sound was so mournful that even
the grim savages looked after it, and at each other,
soberly. Oh! how unexpressibly mournful it was to
me! The novelty of my situation had diverted me
from recalling the horrors of the past night. Now
they came back, overwhelming me as a tide. Could
I have wept, could I have sighed, it might have
eased my heart; but sighs and tears were a mockery.
I felt suffocated with the burden. I thought of the
sweet picture upon which my soul had feasted the
evening before; of the little boy's fright; of the old
sailor's prophecy; of my dream, and -the smiling
face of the beautiful bride as she waved her lily
hand, and of her prophetic words; of the brave men
rushing to the deck, and I strove to imagine the terrific struggle for life upon that deck, slippery with
blood; of the descent of the frightful fiends, after
finishing their sanguine work above. There my
-mind stopped; I could not think of what followed;
but the vague impression dwelt upon me, saddening
me almost to a swoon. I grew faint and stupid, and
sinking down among the boxes, I fell into another
deep sleep. I slept soundly until morning, waking,




138            GREEN YIOUINTAIN
as the day broke, to a dream of home. I was yet in
the midst of it, when the sun's rays flashing over the
sea, drove the soothing visitant from me.
As the morning advanced, I happily made a discovery of a chest of Christian food, which had been
preserved as a curiosity I suppose, and amused the
crew by eating a long time unreservedly therefrom.
My breakfast refreshed me so much that I felt quite
resigned to my dubious state.  The day passed
dismally and monotonously, and another night came
on.  A brisk northwest breeze set in at sunset,
blowing steadily until near midnight.  Towards
morning a heavy storrm passed far to the south, flashing and thundering grandly, and by daylight the sea
around us ran pretty high.  One of the boats
capsized, unloading itself very promiscuously. The
living part of the cargo was saved, but the balance
was lost. The sea, however, grew calm after a short
time, and the northwest breeze rising again, the
squadron went on its way.
About three o'clock we hove in sight of land. A
large, red flag was immediately run up from the
admiral, and in a few minutes a like signal appeared
on the distant shore; whereupon a general strangu



TRAVELLERS' ENTERTAINMENT.     139
hation took place, ultimating in a deep howl that was
awful to listen to.
Just before sunset we came to land, a most drearylooking beach, opening up into an uneven, sterile
prospect. About twenty beasts of burden, little
larger than good-sized dogs, stood ranged, tails seaward, waiting for booty. While the vessels were being
unloaded, I saw one package which, from their handling it very carefully, attracted my attention. It was
a long wicker basket covered with white cloth. My
curiosity was strangely excited, and being on shore
I determined to know what it was. So I walked
directly to it, and putting my hand upon the top,
presently discovered it to contain something living.
Oh, my heart! how it leapt! I conjectured the truth,
Hastily tearing the screen away, I saw, pale and
emaciated, yet conscious, the little Spanish maiden,
dearest of all whom I had supposed dead. She
recognized me at once, and smiled, putting up her
hand as though to greet me. I took it, overwhelmed
with the tenderest emotions.
"Is there none but you." she asked feebly. I
shook my head, pressing the dear little hand
fervently.




140            GREEN MOUNTAIN
"Will they kill us?" she asked apprehensively.
"I don't know," I replied. "If they do we will
die together."
She pressed my hand now in turn, and raised her
head a little, as though to kiss me, or for me to kiss
her. I did not stop to inquire, but getting down on my
knees, pressed my lips to hers, dizzy with emotion.
Then I lifted her out of her cradle, as I would have
lifted a babe, tenderly assisting her to her feet, and
she stood leaning upon my arm. On her expressing
a desire to walk, we proceeded together a short distance along the beach. As we walked, she told me.
that she had occupied that basket ever since the
morning which had risen upon that fearful night,
partaking of food but once, though they had offered
it to her many times; she could not eat, she was so
very sad, thinking of her father and mother, and
little brother gone. As wb were returning she asked
my name. I told her.
"Anne is my English name," she said.  "You
shall be my brother, Philip, while we live. If they
don't kill us, we will run away from these ugly men
some day, and go home to Borneo, and you shall live
with me, and we will live together for ever." Poor




TRAVELLERS ENTERTAINMENT.     141
sailor boy! Without protection amidst a horde of
cannibals, and with so little power to protect, what a
charge was his! I have often in solitary moments
recalled the feelings of that night, and wondered at
the manliness with which I bore up against despair.
After unloading their boats, the savages, except
four, returned to them, and drifted off with the tide
just ebbing. The four who remained fell assisting
the drivers, and before it was entirely dark the beasts
of burden were packed and ready for departure.
They deliberated some time concerning us. Finally
they took the wicker basket, and strapping it ingeniously to one of the animals, lifted Anne up carefully,
and placed her in it. Then putting the rope, which
was around the beast's. neck, in my hand, bade me
by signs to lead on, which I did most willingly.
The guide, or director, went a short space ahead,
and the whole cavalcade followed slowly.
About midnight we entered a low dense thicket,
through which we groped for some time, coming
oult at last right upon a little huddle of rude tents,
which looked very white in the clear moonlight.
There were twenty-five, perhaps thirty of them.-a




142             GREEN MOUNTAIN
close together, the openings for entrance occurring in
every possible relative position to each other.
Here we halted. About a score of women, and as
many children, were immediately present, coming
from nowhere that I could see, and joined eagerly in
unpacking and lugging off the booty. While this
was going on, I helped Anne to dismount. I had
hardly accomplished it when we were closely
thronged with a new swarm of children. They
seemed to stand in no sort of awe, but were on the
contrary most impudently curious-investigating our
persons very annoyingly. This we resisted gently
at first. They grew furious; and one of them, a
squatty, dwarfish-looking thing, struck Anne a hard
blow on her arm. Regardless of what the consequences might be, I returned the blow with all the
force I could muster, and it was a hard one, I assure
you. The little imp turned a complete summersault,
and lay stretched out senseless. This summary act
seemed to terrify the rest, and they disappeared like
shadows.  The next visitation was the women.
Having discharged their manual duties, they came
around us, and at once entered upon an examinationr.
One felt my arms and legs, and taking my hand,




MRAVELLERS' ENTERTAINMENT.   143
pinched up the ball of my thumb and the flesh on
the side. Then looking around at her companions,
she made a motion of carving the flesh off. One of
them, who seemed to be very old, and whose face I
saw clearly by the moonlight, responded to the
motion with a grin, while the saliva drivelled out of
her mouth.
I was glad they saw no such enticement in Anne,
and I was also glad to see that Anne did not apprehend the import of what was going on.
The examination, afterwards more desultory, continued for some time. When it was done, we were
led around through various windings, through two or
three tents, until we came to one lower and more
oblong than the rest. Into this we were pushed, and
the opening carefully folded after us. In the middle
of the tent, on the ground, resting in an iron mortar,
was a large spermaceti candle burning.  By the
light of tllis, we discovered two piles of blankets, one
in each end of the tent, and the chest of food from
which I had fed while on board the boat. After partaking from the chest, we retired to forget in sleep
*for a few hours, the terrors with which we were sur
rounded.




I44             GREEN MOWNTArN
I awoke at day-break;'but Anne slept on quietly,
and I sat by her watching her slumbers.  As I sat
looking upon her placid face, my mind recnrred to
our situation, and I speculated by turns hopefully
and despondingly, upon our immediate destiny. I
thought not much, and cared less about myself. The
sweet creature before me was my care. They would
kill us no doubt, thought I,-murder us as cannibals
ever murder their victims. But I knew what cannibals were. I knew they would not kill us then-that
day, nor that week; perhaps not for months. We
were not then fit for their worse than hellish repast.
We might get away from them. If not, I might per:
suade them to spare Anne, and deliver her up to
her friends, representing to them the certainty of
their reaping thereby large sums of gold. I should
have learned their language, so as to tell them this.
Thus thinking and planning, I sat watching her as
she slept. After a while her sleep was less quiet. A
vivid dream seemed to possess her. She smiled. Her
eyelids quivered as with joy. She made a blind
motion with her hand, stroking tenderly the rough
blanket, and smiled again, while tears oozed forth,
gathering in little drops upon her long eyelashes4




TRAVELLERS' ENTERTAINMENT.    14b
Then a deep shadow of sadness suddenly darkened
every feature, and she was awake.  " O, Philip!
is he gone?" she exclaimed in a tone of deepest
anguish.
"Who?" I asked, almost weeping from sympathy,
so wildly pathetic was her tone and manner.
" Dear little brother.  Oh, what a sweet dream I
have had!" she continued, relapsing into the memory
of it. " I cannot tell it to you. So pretty he looked
standing by me. He would not stay. [But he went
away quickly, as I have heard my mother say angels
fly away, up towards the sky, so quick I did not see
where he went. Is it morning, Philip?'7
I assured her it was, and directly brought her
something to eat.
She ate a little, and then putting the unfinished
morsel back into my hand, and covering her face, she
began to weep most bitterly. I soothed her as well
as I could, asking her again and again why she wept.
When she had recovered her voice, she told me that
at the evening meal before that awful night, she had
shared just such a cake with her little brother. Soon
she became quite calm. Yet the incident had taken
her back to those dreadful scenes, and from a melan.




146              GErEEN MOUNTAIN
choly interest in them, I suppose, she asked me to
narrate what happened to me after they went below
to retire. This I did, as near as my emotions would
allow. When I had finished, I in turn asked her to
tell what befell her. "0, Philip, how can I tell you?
It is so dreadful," she began, shuddering.'Bnut I
will tell you, if I can," she continued after a pause.'" I was asleep with little brother, and mother and
father in one room. In another, with a door between, was sister and Carlos. When I awoke, father
was holding the door: mother was helping him. I
was frightened, and began to cry. My sister then
came inn and a little while after, Carlos went to help
father. He said they had done trying to get in at
his door, and were all trying to get in there.  My
sister came to me, and put her armls around mne, and
told me we had all to die that night, and told me to
look for her when I would be in the spirit world. I
heard dreadful noises outside,-men swearing, and
saying they were killed; and snarling noises like
tigers and lions fighting together. Sister looked so
pale I was afraid of her. Little brother awoke and
cried just as he did that evening. He cried just as
he did then- Don't let them fake me, mrother.' I




TRAVELLERS' ENTERTAINMENT.     147
began. to feel brave when little brother cried, and I
tried to hush him. Carlos went into the other room
for his sword. When he came back, he told sister
that the crew seemed to be all dead, and now he and
father must fight. He went to the door again. I
heard a loud noise like a gun outside, and father let
go of the door and fell back. Mother caught hold of
him, so that he did not quite fall down; but he could
not stand up, and mother and sister helped him to tle
bed and he lay down. He was very pale, and he put
both hands on his breast, and gasped very hard. I
went up to the bed. Mother and sister were bending
over him and crying. I put my arms around him.
He said,' 0 my God!' in Spanish, and breathed a
long breath. My mother and sister cried louder, and
said he was dead. I put my face upon his hand and
cried, too. The noise outside came so much louder,
that I looked up. The door was open, and Carlos
was standing before it, striking as hard as he could
with his sword at the awful looking men that were
trying to get in. A monstrous man fell into the
room, dead. The head of another one tumbled ovex
Carlos' shoulder upon the floor. Mother, sister, and
brother and I went into sister's room. My mother




148             GREEN MOOUNTAIN
put her arms around little brother and me, and sat
down in one corner. Sister walked the room, wringing her hands, and saying in Spanish,'O! my husband! They will kill him. They will kill him.
O! mother, what shall I do 2' Then she tried to go
out and help Carlos. My mother would not let her.
=While they were struggling, my sister tried hard to
go. I heard another sound like a gun, and Carlos
came running in, and tried to shut the door after him.
But a very large black man-I saw the same man
last night-pressed close in after him, and they grappled with each other. The last I remember, they
were struggling dreadfully.
When I came to myself, I was tied and lying on
the floor. I could not stir.  No one was near me as
I could see, and so I did not cry for help, but lay
there a long time very still. When I was almost
exhausted, lying there so still, those frightful black
men came and took me up. As they were carrying
me out, I saw Carlos lying in sister's arms. They
were deadly pale, and their clothes bloody. I think
they were both (lead.-Oh, it makes me feel so lonely
now to think of it!  I was afraid of the black men,
and did not feel so then. I did not see mother, nor




TlAVELLERS' ENTERTAINMENT.     149
little brother.-Oh, I am so lonely, Philip. "Why do
you weep, Philip? It is past now. I shall not cry any
more."' She sat up, and twined her fingers in my
hair, begging me not to weep. But I could not help
it. —So sad a tale! and to my ear so sweetly told I
It was nearly noon. She arose, and we went together to the chest and partook of food. She ate quite
plentifully, and declared herself much renewed,
desiring to walk out. This we did. To our great
surprise, we saw no one. The village seemed wholly
deserted. Satisfied, from careful examination, that
it was really so, a plan presented itself immediately
to my mind, and I determined to carry it directly into
execution. I proposed it to Anne. Her judgment
agreed with mine. We would make our escape! In
a few minutes we were ready, having packed some
food in a small bag which we found amongst the rubAish of the tent.
We struck directly into the thicket, and made for
the sea-shore, whence we had come. We travelled
slowly all that afternoon, neither seeing nor hearing
anything of our captors. Resting a little at sunset,
and taking some food, we travelled on until midnight.
Anne had borne np under the fatigue remarkablh




150            GREEN MOUNTADN
but now her tottering step and laborious breathing
admonished me of the necessity of repose. So, looking out a sheltered place-it was a small cave in the
side of a hill-I smoothed a little space, and, sitting
down, took her in my arms, placing her head upon
my bosom. She was soon asleep, and I sat thus holding her until morning. She awoke greatly refreshed,
and we went on our way. We had not gone far
when we came in sight of the sea. A great difficulty
upon which I had not counted, now presented itself.
The sea would put anl end to our path. We had
no boat. "Perhaps we shall find one on the beach,"
said Anne. Perhaps.  We would try. We soon
arrived at the water's edge. No boat could we
see. We walked along the beach a mile or more.
Still no boat. I found an oar. As we walked on,
almost despairing, Anne stumbled. What was it? It
looked like a keel. It was one. With my oar I dug
away the sand and pebbles. It was a boat buried in
the sand. With considerable labor I removed it, and
launched it. We consigned ourselves to it, floating
slowly out upon the deep. There was a gentle breeze
seaward, and making a mast of my oar, and a sail of my
jacket, we drifted quite rapidly and pleasantly far out,




TRAVELLERS' ENTERTAINMENT.    151
losing sight of land before night. When it was
entirely dark I took down the sail, and making as
comfortable a place as I could for Anne, I watched
her and the sea, while she slept. I watched awhile,
and then fell asleep myself. Neither of us awoke
until daybreak, and then both awoke together, to give
forth a shout of rapturous joy. We were but a short
distance away from a ship, and within speaking distance of a boat which had been sent out to pick us
up. We were shortly on board. It was an American
vessel, hailing from Boston, and homeward bound.
Anne wanted to get off at Borneo, but unfavorable
winds bore us far to the northward of that port, and
it was deemed impracticable to put back. She went
with me to Boston. The captain of the ship, a
benevolent man, took a deep and friendly interest in
her, and took her to his own house. I engaged
myself in his service, and wrote to my parents.
Before leaving port, I had the great happiness of seeing my father and mother, and of consigning my
orphan charge to them. What became of her afterwards, as well as what befell me, would double the
length of my story to relate. I will not enter upon
it. When I began, I thought I would tell you all




152             6REEN MOUNTAIN
about my experience as a sailor; but it is getting
quite late, and I must quit here in the mniddle,-fully
conscious, by the by, that I have discharged my obligation in the way of story-telling.  -However, I
cannot leave it without stating, that the little Spanish
maiden became one day a wife, and the sailor boy a
husband, and-father.




TRAVELLEIRS' ENTERTAINMENT.    1 53
CHAPTER V.
iT was bed-time, late bed-time, after midnight,
when the supposed lawyer brought his narration to a
close. A general stretching and yawning immediately ensued, accompanied with a casual consultation
of watches, and sundry mingled allusions to some of
the incidents of the story, and to the necessity of
sleep. Our lean friend of the bar had yielded to that
necessity, as we discovered on approaching for lights,
and was, as it seemed, laboring with vile imaginings
of a piratical or other bloody character. His countenance bore an expression of great horror, which with
the slight, yet significant motions of his hands, indicated that he was desperately resisting some awful
bugbear or other.  The Quaker touched him with his
cane. He exploded with a wild shout of terror that
awoke him at once, and completely.
"You should go better armed, my dear fellow,"
remarked- the Quaker. He made no reply, being




5  GREEN MOUNTAIN
evidently offended at our merriment, and hastening to
comply with our demand for lights, directed us in a
general way to our places of repose, whither we
retired to dream or reflect, or both in one, as tile
mind's tone chanced to be.
How the rest of the company enjoyed the night I
do not know. 3My sleep was very calm, I remember;
and the cold grey morning came quite too soon for
me. The morning was indeed cold and grey. The
sun, judging from appearances, did not rise at allonly sending a delegation of light, which like delegations generally, seemed to have mostly forgotten the
purpose of its sending. A kind of dense mist that
-was not quite rain, but if anything wetter than rain,
filled all the nether atmosphere. There was a cold,
north wind, too, a wind such as causes the mercury in
old men's bones to sink gratingly. It blew with a
whistling sound, around the old building, and roared
away most gloomily, like flying ghosts, through the
stinted forest which bordered a neighboring stream.
The transition from the warm bed to my ungenial
pantaloons was so disagreeable that it put me quite
out of humor, and looking out at the little four-paned
window of my apartment, to assure myself that I




TRAVEWLLRS' ENTElTTAINMENT.    155
had not been dreaming about the weather, I took an
oath, which was an oath, not io continue my journey
that day.
As we sat at the breakfast table, I overheard the
two farmer-like looking men say one to the other, by
way of exchange —of remarks, that they should not go
on until the sky cleared. This was a comfort. 1
should not be all alone.'Do you think of sallying
out to-day, sir," inquired the Quaker of me. I
answered emphatically in the negative, alluding to
my oath.
"Quite singular!-the coincidence, I mean," he
said in reply; "I pledged myself between the bed and
my pantaloons this morning to the sameeffect."
"Well, I've taken no vow on the subject," remarked
the lawyer, supposed to be, " but I think I shall try
the effect of this latitude and longitude a little before
going on. I'm in no hurry if the rest are not, I'm
sure."
"This looks like staying," said the grey-headed
man, laughing. " So it does," gushingly responded
the lawyer, partly in answer to the old man's laugh.' I believe I know what you want to stay for, too,'"
said the grey-headed, further, with another laugh.




1 a'           GREEN MOUNTAIN
El lh, you do?" poured out the lawyer again, amused
at the old man's laughable hilarity. " Yes. It's to
hear them'ere men's stories there," pointing to the
Quaker and me. This remark seemed very aptly put
in, evidently touching the secret inclinations of all,
for the subject was immediately dropped, and no more
brought up that day.
After breakfast it occurred to me to suggest a,
reorganization for the purpose of continuing the
entertainment. I did so while cigars were being lit.
" By no means; by-no-means," responded the lawyer.
" In such a case we should have the day pleasantly
passed it is true; but the night cometh, you know.
That would hang, and hang us with it I'm afraid. Be
prudent my dear sir.  Remember the foolish virgins.
What do you say my friend?" addressing the Quaker.
" I will fall in with the majority when there shall
be one," replied the other. " Well, that's fair, spoken
like a man, a true republican," continued the lawyer, "and my point is carried, for I'm a majority
in myself!"
I succumlbed, and formally withdrew imy propo.
sition, with reluctance, however, not exactly seeing
the force of the lawyer's logic, and being impatient




PIRX ZVELLVERS EENTERTAINMENT.  157
to hear what the Quaker might have for us. " But
how are you going to pass the day?" I asked by way
of covering my retreat.
"Pass it if you can; if you can't, let it pass you,it will be all the same. I intend to follow this advice,
brother, and can conscientiously offer it.  Moreover,
what I say unto you, I say unto all. I have spoken."
Delivering himself of this facetiousness, the lawyer
strode out to take a view  of the weather.  He
directly returned, full of animation, declaring he had
a new idea, a return of an old want, which he had
looked upon as among things past to come back no
more, namely, a desire to go a-fishing. "And now,"
he concluded, "will any one go along?"  No one
seemed so much disposed to join him as the Quaker,
and out of politeness none of the rest of us offered.
They were soon in readiness, two oilcloth overalls, and
fishing tackle being raised, and started off full of
mock anticipation and glee.
The two farmers fell into a pleasant vein of informing each other of the promising prospects of the live
stock trade; of the best manner of procuring as well
as of curing said stock; of the celebrated standard
male progenitors in the cattle line, in the horse line



158             GREEN MOUNTAB
and so on and so forth, much varied, and with great
relish. The jolly old man listened, became interested
by degrees, and joined in the conversation. I listened,
and lost interest in about the same ratio that he
gained it, and finally went to my room. I ordered a
comfortable fire to be built, and taking pencil and
paper, amused myself with sketching down, as nearly:
as I could remember, the two stories of the past
evening.  Busied with  this, the day passed so
pleasantly away, that I forgot my dinner totally, and
was surprised into a consciousness of the fact by the
unmistakable approach of night. I went down stairs,
and into the bar-room, just in time to receive the
fishers. " We have not escaped the proverbial fisherman's luck," cheerfully announced the Quaker.
"No sir," confirmed the lawyer, emphatically.
"However, we have something more than local
saturation. Look here, will ye?" They were both
dripping wet. " No fault of ours, however, let it be
inserted," continued the lawyer.
"But of that great fish, eh?" suggested the
Quaker, comically.
" Of that great fish," returned the other. The
Quaker laughed heartily; and, as soon as he could




TRAVELLERS ElNTERTAINMENT.    159
be heard, the lawyer related the circumstance.
They were both on a log at the time-a log, one end
of which floated in the stream. At one and the
same instant their hooks caught, or something caught
the hooks-the latter it seemed was the supposition of
the lawyer-and pulling hard and enthusiastically,
they were both drawn, as the lawyer asserted, into
the water. Fortunately it proved to be only neckdeep, and they succeeded in getting out, and in
recovering their fishing poles. The hooks, though,
remained fast, and they continued pulling until at last
both hooks broke, and they were compelled to desist.
We were yet laughing at the incident and the
lawyer when supper was made known.  Waiting
only so long as was necessary for our wet friends to
change their garments, we proceeded in a body to
the passive table, and demonstrated our carnality in
a most vigorous manner, and with agreeable results,
for the space of half an hour or so. Just as I began
to see clearly through the operation, having fixed my
eye and mind upon the morsels I would eat and no
more, the fact came to me, that I might soon be
standing, or more probably sitting, before the present company in the character of social entertainer.




160             GREEN MOUNTAIN
It was a serious thing, more so as I was disagreeably
conscious of sore deficiency.  The consideration
threw me into a fit of absence, which directly
attracted the lawyer's attention.
" You men take it to heart very much, don't you?"
he said, rallyingly. I looked around. The Quaker
was smiling assent. He, too, had been absent.
"What do you mean 2" said I, with assumed
innocence.
" Oho! what do you mean!" laughingly retorted
the other. "You've no idea of getting out of it I
hope. Hang your pluck, if you do. HIere we've
been waiting all day, so our venerable friend here
asserts, and probably believes, for the sole purpose of
having our fun out, and now we ""Oh, I apprehend your allusion now," said I,
coming out of my hypocrisy; " you touch upon the
matter of story-telling. Don't be frightened, sir.
The heaven is not falling. But bear in mind I ought
to be excused, for I wanted the thing to go along in
the morning, and you opposed."
" Opposed on good grounds, sir, as will presently
be, i;' it, i-as not already been, disclosed unto you."
And so the subject was dropped.




IEAVELLERS ENTERTAINMENT.    161
Supper being satisfactorily concluded, we adjourned
to the bar-room, to undergo a general surprise at the
change which had suddenly taken place in the
weather. The sun had just set, smiling a resplendent twilight over all the western heavens, while the
dismal clouds were folding themselves away into the
southeast, looking intensely black. From the south
came a soft breeze, mild, like an infant's breath, and
fragrant-most gratefully fragrant and  genialrenewing life and thought-old life and old thought,
thought that came of memories, tender as the wind
itself, and floating like that in sweet gushes from a
sunny zone!
The porch was on the south side of the house, and
we were all standing there silently contemplating
and enjoying, when our lean attendant drew our
attention by approaching with four chairs and
arranging  them.  Under the circumstances we
needed no plainer suggestion, and, waiting politely
until two more chairs were added, which the emaciafed speedly brought, we sat down without reserve,
continuing silent the while-a meditative mood
prevailing.




162            GREEN MOUNTAIN
The glowing twilight became less glowing, fading
slowly and serenely, and the evening star came out in
Its midst, a living gem upon its bosom. Then it
grew fainter, and the cheerful star grew brighter,
-brighter, like hope in death. The moon began to
cast.faint shadows from earthly objects, silvering the
wet leaves of the trees and bushes, silvering the
fences, and barn roof, and the hay-stacks in the
distant meadow, all the while looking down with its
honest, half-bandaged countenance, a very saint of
benevolence.
The twilight was nearly gone. The evening star
was setting. The moon was in its glory. The soft
south-wind blew yet soothingly, and wafting fragrance as of many flowers, when the lawyer, rising
with great gravity, announced that the. hour had
arrived, yea, the minute, which he intended to
celebrate by requiring a continuance of the last
night's entertainment. " It becomes then my painful
necessity to renew my staff of office. I wish it to be
considered therefore, that I am duly in the chair-.
or shall be in a moment-and-let us have a
motion." Eager to escape the ordeal for the present,




TRXrI-ELLERS' ENTERTAINMENT.  163
1 promptly motioned that the Quaker be appointed.
In due form the motion was carried, and the Quaker
declared chosen. Upon which we arranged ourselves the better to listen, and sat waiting in the
most profound silence for what might come forth.




164             GREEN MQOUJNTAN
CEIAPTER VI.
You are undoubtedly aware, —thus the. Quaker
began, while we were eagerly listening,- that it is
emnbarrassing for one to attempt the keeping up of an
entertainment of this kind. You are aware that a
good joke rarely brooks a companion, even of the
same order; that a fine touch of sentiment goes over
the heart complete in itself, and would lose its singleness and come short of its proper depth of effect by
the intrusion of another, however fine.' To feel the
last, finest vibration of a tone of music, it must go on
undisturbed. To feel the last, deepest tremor of senti
ment in the cent;e of our being-that tremor which
angels in sympathy catch, and breathe back a wave of
bliss that is of heaiven-there must be no intrusion. I
ma~ke these remarks in view of the passages from the
soul uttered here last night. I make them, too, partly
in view of the genial circumstances that have sur




TRAVELL[ERSS ENTERTAINMENT.    165
rounded us for the last hour, speaking to us mysteriously of other times and scenes, of other hopes and
joys; for I fear my voice will be a discord, the images which my words will present, unwelcome to you.
Indeed it is embarrassing, though I have no doubt
you will be lenient.
When this matter was suggested last evening, I
had no idea, as I suppose none of you had, that it
would take such a turn as it has.  And again,
in view of the necessity of continuing in the same
strain that has characterized the entertainment thus
far, I feel a hesitancy. The others have made their
own life the theme. I must do so too; or, being altogether inexperienced in weaving fiction, my narrative
will be a wretched mockery. It is compelling one
to straits disagreeable, and yet agreeable, too, withal.
However, I will not tire you with more extended
preface. My story will be long and tame at best, as
it now appears to my mind, and the sooner I enter,
the sooner, relatively speaking, I shall get out.
I have said I should have to draw upon my own
experience, chiefly for want of other. I will commence with my boyhood as the most convenient
point, and continue until -elaboration shall havo




166             GREEN MOUNTAIN
ceased to be a virtue, if you please.  I will discreetly confine myself to the region of memory, going
no further back than I can vouch for with an unsullied conscience, which is to the age when my boyhood began. I was called Deacon, and happily was
the nickname conceived, if we may link the primitive
association with that word; for no antiquated family
cow, ruminating in the abundant shade at summer
noon-tide, was ever less designing than I. The impulse
of the heart was not always spoken, it is true; but
when speech or action did make manifest the goings
on within, it was with utter singleness-unequivocal
straightforwardness. I never told a lie, I think, during
the whole of my long boyhood —except once, and then
it was concerning a little girl about whom I was very
much bored.  This little girl kissed me once, and
some one saw it done, and afterwards asked me about
it. I denied it point blank, and stuck faithfully to
the denial. This lie my conscience never has disturbed, and I doubt whether it could anywhere be
found in the Book of Human Discrepancies. They
called me Deacon so much, and so seldom mentioned,
my proper name, that I fell into the way of thinking I
had no other, and used to tell inquiring strangers, with




TRAVELLERS' ENTERTIAIMENT.    167
the utmost sincerity, and much to their amusement,
that my name was Deacon IMnunn.  Yet I had another nickname.  It was "Hashy."  One cheerful
little being always called me Hashy. It was the little girl whom I have alluded to. A sweet, lovely
creature she was-that little girl;-always happy
when those around her were so, and sad, tearful, when
those she loved —and they were everybody-were
sorrowful. She was my daily companion during
those early days. When I was not at her house, she
was at mine, coming always in the afternoon, soon
after dinner. with the ever-glad announcement on
her tongue, that her " ma " had said she might stay
till the short clock pointer was on the figure V.
She used to play with me in the house when it was
winter; and in the spring we used to wander out
together, away down into the old meadow, where
there was a brook, a clear, pebbly-bottomed stream,
that made mysterious music in its flow. There we
would sit for hours upon the bank, talking and making nosegays; and when we were tired, we used to
listen to the low, strange music which the brook
made, until we were sad, and felt a dim sense of awe
creeping upon us. Ay, our souls felt a prophecy in




16$8           GREEN MOUNTAIN
the music. of that lonely stream wandering on to the
Great Unknown. - Too soon did she enter upon the
fulfillment of that prophecy, —too long has that fulfillment been kept from me!
In the summer we went to school together, about
half a mile away, to the old country district schoolhouse. I used to stop for her regularly in the morning on my way, and come back with her when school
was out at night.  Sometimes we played by the
road-side, and then it would be sunset before we
reached her home, and I would be left to go to my
home alone. But it was not far-only-a couple of
hundred yards or so, and 1 always imagined she
would be at my side to help me if anything should
happen, which kept away fear. In the autumn she
came again to see me —there being no school. Yet
not so often, the weather was so rainy and blustering, and she was feeble in body. I was grown older,
too, and they began to rally me about my little wife
-some boorish loafers of the neighborhood. This
made me ashamed to go and see her, and so we met
less frequently. Yet her presence was ever dear to
me, as the memory of it now. About that time it
was she kissed me- only once-she never kissed me




TItAVELLERS I ENrTEiTTAJINITENT.  169
again, and the lie was told which conscience has ever
treated so benignly.
Thus the first year —the outer circle of my recollection-passed on, becoming a treasure without price.
The next summer I was a great deal older. I
began to play marbles with larger boys, and had a
ball; and I did not care so much about being with
Seraph-that was the little girl's name. Yet- we
were sometimes together as of old-played and
walked together, and gave each other apples and
keepsakes.
When winter came again, I went to school and she
stayed at home, and I saw her so seldom  that I
became quite alienated, so llmuch so that when one
day it was announced to me that she had gone to
stay a year with a maiden aunt living at a distance,
I did not care much about it, though a'few days
afterwards I had a melancholy spell of an hour or
two-that was all.
At school I made considerable proficiency, attaining to easy reading in a little time.  The first
impressions made upon me by reading, which I
retain now, were of Poor Tray —world-renowned.
That simple story entered deeply into my heart, the
8




170             GREEN  IOUNTAIN
deeper, perhaps, because of a circumstance which 1
will relate. It happened during the summer which
Seraph was absent.
Some three quarters of a mile from the schoolhouse was a little artificial pond, belonging to one
Abel Toom, a bleak old man who had died in his
youth —if he ever lived-leaving a hide-bound
skeleton, moving and existing, a social incumbrance
-a  most dismal-looking object, indeed; he was an
incorrigibly selfish being too, not altogether free
from the charge of villainy. This old man guarded
his pond-because, forsooth, it had a few lean fishes
in it-with the most jealous care, encouraging nests
of snakes at different points along the bank thereof,
and being present himself upon most occasions, uttering hideous imprecations whenever any encroach-:nent seemed impending. But I had never heard  of
Lis having done bodily harm, though often hearing
of the ludicrous figure he cut in view of trespassing
youngsters.
One sultry afternoon in the latter part of summer,
I was beset after school by a boy -several years nly
senior, with the request to join a party that was
going to vex old Abel, and if he should not be there,




TRAVELLERS' ENTERTAINMENT.    171
to go in a-swimming. I did not want to go on
account of the company, and urged some reasons.
These he met with so much derision, taking an oath
that he would carry me down and duck me, and also
including under his oath that he would tell the boys
what a chicken-hearted fool I acted like, that, partly
through fear, partly though spite, and a little through
inclination, I acceded to his proposal. They were
bad boys, and I knew it, but I went with them:
Poor Tray!
Arrived at the pond, no Abel in sight. We at,
once divested ourselves of clothing and went into the
water. After amusing ourselves for a time, it was
suggested to take a ride in a boat, which was moored
near by where we were. The suggestion was enthusiastically acted upon, and we were soon in the deep
waters, paddling away towards the middle of the
pond, which was about a hundred yards across. We
were in the midst of our enjoyment, one boy-the
oldest-amusing the rest with a string of gratuitous
jokes at old Abel's expense, when-bang! went a
gun from the shore whence we had taken the boat.
What was it for a The next moment we knew. 01)
flesh and bones! what a smart I Oh!- ruel, intol




172            GREEN MOUNTAIT
erable smart!  " Salt!" cried one boy.  "Salt-!
salt!" cried another. "Salt, and thunder! he'll kill
us," chimed the third, and they all jumped out into
the water like so many frogs, leaving me alone, and
swam for the opposite shore. I yelled lustily to them
to come back and help me out of danger, as I could
not swim nor row. But they plashed away, swimming desperately, and paid not the least attention to
me.-Poor Tray! I grabbed up the oars frantically,
and attemped to use them; but between my awkwardness and confusion they both got out of my
hands into the water. While striving to recover
them, bang! went the gun again. I fortunately
escaped with but few grains of the second charge,
but fear took complete possession of me. I jumped
up and down in the boat and screamed in the wildest
manner.  Nothing could be more certain than a
lingering death on the spot, I thought.  A stray
breeze wandered over the pond, which proved quite
refreshing to me —it was so cooling to my burning
skin —until I became aware that it was wafting me
directly towards the place where stood the awful old
man, whom I had conjectured from the first to be,
and now saw clearly was, old Abel himself. Utter




TRA VELLERS' ENTERTAINMENT     173
despair set in, and I sank exhausted, and shrunk,
lying flat in the bottom of the boat. In an incredibly short space of time the boat came within reach
of a hook attached to a long pole in old Abel's hand,
and the next instant the boat, with what there was
left of me in it, was brought.with a tremendous jerk
upon the land. The bony hand grasped my arnm.
Death now was inevitable, and would be immediate
— such was my vivid impression.  But my dreadful
apprehensions were directly dispelled by a great
flood of surprise at his actions. "Ahasuerus Mlunn's
boy, by G-d!" he growled, inspecting me. The
discovery of my parentage seemed to astonish him a
little, and abate his thirst for vengeance. Ite gently
rubbed me all over with the palm of his hand, apply.
ing water now and then, until the intense smarting
was considerably assuaged. Perceiving the effect of
his remedial efforts, lie led me around to my clothes
-in the presence of which I almost cried, so long it
seemed since I had put them off —and helping me on
with them, he bade me go home quickly, and never
be caught around his pond again-intimating more
dreadful consequences in case I should be so -caught.
I went home; and as I went, the analogy between




174            GREEN MIOUNTAI
me and poor Tray arose distinctly upon my mind,
and I felt almost like a brother to the little dog.
I made more progress in reading and spelling,
doing my school-mistress great honor, if her tale to
my parents can be credited.  The autumn came, and
slowly went. Winter school again commenced, and
under a new tutor I vas initiated into the study of
Geography. Anticipatory as I have always been, I
had hardly become accustomed to my new book
before I made search, and found the map of Pennsylvania-my native State: and the very next place
I looked for, after finding the shire-town of the
county in which I lived, was that in which Seraph
was staying. The impulse to look was altogether
instinctive; but when I became clearly conscious of
what I was about, a train of very moving recollections came upon me, diverting me wholly from my
search. I wanted to see her very, very much. I lost
all interest in my studies, and even in my sports, and
went around that day feeling quite melancholy. It
was gone, however, with the day; but not till after I
had questioned may mother concerning the dealr one's
return.
The winter lengthened, lengthened, getting tedious




TRAVELLERS' ENTERTAINMENT.    175
from its length, growing more and more tedious,
until resignation took the place of despondency,
and the hope for spring began to beam, and to point
more confidently to the immediate future. Then the
snow went off, beginning its aquatic journey one
morning before light, and in two or three days it was
all gone, carrying fences and barns with much livestock from the bottom lands, and gouging many
ravines of various depths-some quite formidablein the bluffs. Three very exciting days, cloudy and
misty —every sound, familiar and unattractive at
other times, having strange loudness. After these
days it was warm and pleasant. The grass began to
grow; the birds to sing; the cattle went out upon
the pastures. It was spring. Yet Seraph came not.
The arrangements regarding her stay had been
changed. She would not be at home until midsummer.
As the spring came tenderly, genially on, I was
taken sick. A long illness it was, and painful, wasting me to skin and bones. For a time it was thought
I never would recover. But nature prevailed at last.
Before the summer, I was well again. It was during
this illness that I first realized a mother's love, a




176             GREEN iMOUNTAIN
mother's kindness; gentle sisters' devotion, a father's
solicitude.  Though it was many years before I
learned the relative character of those who surrounded and  administered unto  me during  this
illness, yet, as -I first began to perceive it then, and
as it seems to me necessary to introduce them to you
at this point, I will attempt a sketch.
M[y mother was an excellent, old-fashioned woman
-a kind of standard work on goodness and social
propriety; faithfully attendant upon the sick and
afflicted; always cordially the same to those with
whom she associated. She was a thinking -oman,
too, and passably well-read-often speculating ulpon
abstract subjects at the tea-table, to the edification of
female neighbors or sojourners, to whom  she was
administering the rites of friendly entertaimnent or
of hospitality.  She had been blessed with a good
education in early life, a sound culture, being indoctrinated thoroughly, and sometimes spoke in public
on the tlheme of a judgment and a world to come, All
in all, she was quite a prominent character in the community, and was pointed out to blooming daughters
as an example worthy of their close imitation.
My father was an austere man, being socially




TRAVELLIERS' ENTERTAINMENT.    lYt
armed and equipped, impregnable always, and dealing out his personal cordiality hoimceopatthically. Yet
in a general way he was a friend indeed. Worldly
goods had accumulated almost insensibly around him'until he could call his own much more than he
needed. In fact, he was wealthy, and being orth.odoxically temperate, and unambitious of pecuniary
distinction, he naturally felt the surplus a burden,
and obedient to his impulse, he annually gave away,
in one direction or another, hundreds of dollars. His
specious mansion was always open, and often seemed
like a public-house, except that those who partook,
did so withoqut money and without price. lie had
been a farmer from his youth up, and delighting
more in muscular than in mental exercise, his development had been chiefly in the former capacity.
Still he was a man of excellent sense and every-day
judgment.
I had two sisters, one of them six, the other ten
years older than I. They were happy girls —plump,
and rosy with health, perfect fountains of good
nature, and unquenchable enjoyment.  Morning,
noon or night they were ever ready with smiles and
pleasant words to contribute happiness where it was




178            GREEN M0OUNTAIN
due. In intellectual peculiarities they were more
after my father's than my mnother's mould, being
bright and apt, with good sense in practical affairs.
WVe three were the only scions of the parent stock,
and most harmoniously did we live together. Yet
being so much older than I, they were not exactly companions for me, and I felt it never more than during
my slow recovery that spring.  Besides, the elder
sister, Delia by name, had begun to look with tender
glance upon a certain- young man in the vicinity, not
very tender, but accompanied with a kind of melancholy, and a mental absence which withdrew her from
me to some degree. I longed for Seraph to come
home.  Though somewhat diverted by my associations at school, yet the desire deepened. At last
she came. Bright, and cheerful as ever, she met me.
She was grown much larger, yet looked the same in
her sweet face, —was the same prattling creature. I
stayed at home a week on purpose to visit her; and oh,
the hours were happy and swift. The week was gone
quite too soon.  Thenceforward I was never alienated
from her. I had become used to the excitement and
novelty of attending school, and participating in the
sports of my mates; I had ceased to be disturbed by




TRAVELLERS  EN'TEERTAINMENT.   179
the taunts of coarse wretches; and I took her to my
heart again more intelligently, more sincerely. She
became as a sister to me, devotedly loved.
Happy in a father's and a mother's love, happy in
sisters' love, happy in the companionship of Seraph;
at harmony with my  schoolmates, flattered and
caressed by my tutors, I advanced smoothly along,
developing in all human respects rapidly. One after
another my pet sports passed out of fashion with me.
Playing marbles first, then the pleasant variety that
I drew from a little dog which one of my uncles gave
me. Afterwards my kite with its dreamy liftings-up
of my earnest soul, my fishing tackle next-then
my bow and arrows. One by one they engaged me,
and were laid by, having lost their attractiveness, and
I came pensively, seriously into that leafy passage of
life, where, green to the centre, everything appears
green, hopeful, brilliant, alluring.
About thirteen years old I was. My sister Delia,
fall of ripeness and love as it is in woman's nature to
be at twenty-three years, had not resisted the twining
advances of that certain young man, but had linked
soft tendrils around his manly heart, drawing him
closer, and they were married-8-as healthy, honest,




180             GREEN MOTOUNTA-IN
and mutually enjoyable a couple as ever went out on
moonlight nights, to sit in fragrant arbors and kiss
each other's lips, thinking this world a paradise.
In the midst of high rejoicings, of congratulations,
blessings and glowing hopes, they retired from
amongst us, going to a neighboring town to set up a
new home. of their own.
This'was an era in our family. A new entry was
made in the faLmily-Bible, on a new page, and an
entire  overhauling and shifting took place, ending
in a new arrangement of all the old, familiar objects,
making the whole house appear strange for some
time. But everything settled down quietly after a
while, and, old habits resuming sway, we became gradually accustomed to the loss, so that matters went
on pretty much as before.
As I had grown older, my intercourse with Seraph
had become slightly tinged with reserve.  She had
become perceptibly timid in her bearing towards me.
Still we met often, met by ourselves. But she would
not let me take her hand or put my arm around her
waist as I used to. There was a feeling within me,
too, that forbade it. An inelination and a drawing
back I had, alnd they both grew stronger. We had




TPATVELLERS' ENTERTAINMENT.    181
begun to love each other- not as brother an-d. sister.
Yet it was a bud that never bloomed!
One fionday morning in the summer after the marriage of my sister, which I ought to have before stated
happened in April, I was surprised, on entering, the
school-room, to find Seraph's desk vacant-the more
so as~the school had already been commenced some
time.  Her  regularity in attendance had  been
remarkable; and I could not divest myself of the
apprehension, that some evil had befallen her. I
thought of it many times during the day, and made
bold to inquire, immediately on my return home, if
they knew where she was. " Sick,' said my mother.
"I have just come from there; she is very sick."
The announcement was for the moment like a dagger
in my heart. I went away to my little bed-room upstairs and cried. You may wonder somewhat at the
depth of my attachment at that early age. I have
wondered at it myself sometimes. Yet when I recall
the singular earnestness of my disposition; the
thousand circumstances that favored our intercourse;
the  e:clausiveness of my affections, particularly
towards females; the truly lovable character of the
child, and her attachment to rne; my predisposition




182             GREEN MOUNTAIN
for things and persons amiable and mild, being never
fond of boisterous sports;-when I recall these things,
it does not seem strange. To be sure I had cronies
among boys of my own age, and of similar cast,
yet these attachments were brief-changing constantly. There was a social want-it had been always
with me —which none but Seraph could meet. That
want was taking another and deeper hold. Hence,
my solicitude.
The next evening I inquired again with a trembling voice. lMy mother Was very sober. " My son,"
she answered, " I am afraid our Seraph is going to die."
"Can I go and see her?" I asked, overpowered
with anguish.'She is delirious," replied my mother. " She
would not know thee."  Oh, how it wrung my heart
to hear this! I could eat -no.supper. And when I
went to bed I could not sleep, I could think of nothing
but her. I would not go to sleep. It seemed a sin
for me to sleep, and she lying in so much pain-so
sick. When at last, long after midnight, I began to
dream, it was of her; yet of her in health, leading me
by the hand through an endless mead of flowers and
shrubs, and lofty trees.




TRAVELLERS' ENTERTAINMENT.     183
I did not go to school the.next day, nor the next.The third day she died. lMy mother was with her
when she died. They would not let me go, though
I entreated with tears. It was well perhaps, they
did not. My memory of her now, is as of a sweet
vision that beams awhile, passing back to heaven.
When- my mother returned from composing the
remains of the little sufferer, I asked her to tell me
how she died and what she said. With much interruption from tears and sobs, she told me, that a few
minutes before her death, she revived from the stupor into which she had fallen, and called her father
and her mother to her side, and kissed them saying,
"We will meet in heaven, dear father and mother;
good bye."  "Then she beckoned her sisters, one
after another," continued my mother, "and they
came, and she kissed them, begging them not to weep
so, telling them she was happy, and would be a great
deal happier soon. Her brother was kneeling by
her. Oh, it was hard for him! Strong man as he
is, he wept, and groaned, as though she were his last
earthly friend. She told him to call me. I went to
her. I bent over her, and smoothed her hair away
from her forehead and kissed it.'Thou art a good




184             GREEN MOUNTAIN
woman,' she said;'I love thee. Good bye!' I was
going away. I could not bear to see the little angel
die. She clung to my hand, and asked me-' Is
Ahasuerus here.' I told her no.'Then tell him,'
she said,-her voice was very faint; she was almost
gone, —' tell him not to mourn for me. I am going
to heaven, where I shall be always happy. I shall
think of him. Give him my little Bible. Tell him
to keep it. Don't let him mourn for me.' This was
all I heard her say, my son. It is hard, I know," she
continued, seeing me so overwhelmed with grief.
c" She was very dear to us all."  The great Searcher
of hearts, only knows the agony of that hour to me.
I cried until I had no more tears to shed, walking
about, at rest nowhere. It was cruel, indeed, and
hard to bear. I went to my sister's room, and with
her I talked over all I could remember of Seraph.
It gave me great relief. Yet it was late in the night
before I could be persuaded to go to my rest. When
at last I did, my grief would not let me sleep. I
felt as one in a strange place. I was! The world had
clanged to me. It would never be the same to me
again.
Circumstances compelled it, and they buried her




'TRAVELLERS' ENTERITAINMEMENT.  185
the day following her death. I attended her funeral.
But I did not look into the coffin. No one looked
into it. When the ceremony of burial was over, and
the throng had dispersed, I lingered, seating myself
beneath a tree, a little apart from the grave, and feeling as though I could never leave the sacred spot. I
sat a long time there, looking through my tears upon
the grave so precious, recalling the thousand, thousand
things that had a voice of her, that brought her
beaming smile. Did her spirit linger, too, around
that grave, soothing my sad heart with its new breath,
and giving vigor to my memory? I had a grateful
sense that it was so; and a sweet, tender melancholy,
like that which sad, distant music gives, stole over me.
I ceased to weep.  My vision became clear, and I
looked up through an opening in the trees, far up,
deep into the soft, pure sky.  There is her home, I
thought. There she will hover, looking down upon
me. There I shall go witli her, when I die.
At last the cold night dews and the approaching
darkness admonished me of the necessity of seeking
my home; and with a slow, reluctant step I left the
place. As I was going out, I met my father coming
for me. He did not chide me; but took my hand in
his tenderly, as was not his manner, and we walked




1886.~C REEN MOUNTAIN
home in silence beneath the gathering shadows of the
silent night.
Grief may be very poignant, and deep, in early
life; but it does not last. We are climbing the hill.
The prospect is widening. Hope, too, is mounting;
and the aerial view beams ever more brightly,
becomes ever more vast and alluring.  We overlook
the graves of those who go aside, journeying no
more with us, —they are lost in the swelling, gorgeous
scene. We cannot stop, if we would, to hear the
voice of the pine, or bedew the cypress. It is true, a
great bereavement will make an era in opening life,
will change the path from what it would have been.
Still we must go onward, ever onward, on our way.
This was to a great extent true of me. At first I went
often to Seraph's grave, taking with mne the little
Bible-her last bequest. Every day I used to go.
Then every other day. Finally but once a week.
And when the winter snows came, their whiteness
lay unsullied around that grave-no, there was one
track. I saw it as I was passing once: a woman's
track. I stopped to look at it; but the place appeared
bleak and desolate; I did not enter. "When spring
comes," said I to myself, promisingly, and passed
on. So soon had it become a pious duty merely.




TRAVELLERS' ENTERTAINMENT.     187
Spring came; but with it came other thoughtsnew, and net feelings, new objects of interest. One
afternoon in the latter part of April, as I was hoeing
in the flower-garden, in front of the house, a middleaged man, carrying a large portmanteau, came up to
the gate, and asked if Ahasuerus was at home. Since
Seraph's death, my sister Cynthia had persisted in
calling me by my proper name, and I had got the
hang of it pretty well. For the moment forgetting
that Ahasuerus was likewise my father's name, I
advanced, hoe in hand, very confidently, and told
him yes, that was my name. "Well, you've met
wvith a great loss of years," he responded, " that's a
fact, since I saw you. I'd like to partake of your
elixir, myself. By the by, boy, it's your father I
want to see; Ahasuerus Munn, senior."  Though
mortified at my blunder, yet such was his manner
-so full —overflowing with heartiness and the most
sunny good-nature, that I 8uffered no self-deprecia-:
tion; and I informed him, in a very civil way, that
my father was at work in an adjoining field.
"Indeed! Industrious as ever. Why, the man will
be rich one of these days, I'm  aftraid," he said, comring through the gate, and looking around admiringly.
The open front-door caught his eye. "Well, I sup



1[ 88            GREEN MOUNTAIN
pose it's no difference. Cynthia, and Delia, and the
good, strong-minded Catherine-mother of us all, I
might say,-they're at home, not.?"
" Delia is married, and gone away, this spring's a
year'," I replied, answering his question, and giving
him the fact as something that would interest him, I
thought, from his manner. And it seemed to, much.
"'sMarried!" he broke out in great astonishment.
"Delia married? Boy, I'll have you beheaded for
smaking false report. You really say, on the oath of
an honest boy-which I confess you resemble-that
Delia Nunn, my little knee-high pet, is married, and
gone off-this spring's a year. -Well, now; that
beats Croton oil. I had no idea time was passing so
fast.  And I never heard  of it either.  That's
strange. Yet's a long while, I know. By the by,
this puts me in the way of thinking there was a little
squalling brat, nibbling silver tea-spoons in the cra.
dile, and laughing at the looming spectacle of feet, to
the ownership of which he did not see his title clear.
A lusty brat he was-only son he was, too,-heir
apparent. Are you he 2"
I replied that I supposed I was.
"And has it come to this?' he mused, surveying




TRAVELLERS' ENTERTAINMIENT.    189
me from head to foot, and resting his hand upon my
shoulder.  "'My boy, you and I must be better
acquainted.  Don't you remember me? Lord, no.
That was a foolish question. Haven't you ever heard
your father or mother-mother, most likely-mention the name of Joshua? That's"
At this moment some one appeared at the front
door. It was my mother. " Um!" she exclaimeda favorite expression of surprise with her, and the
nearest approach to a by-word I ever heard her utter
A" Joshua!"
" Catherine, as I live! The never-to-be-forgotten
Catherine, how do you do?" The next moment he
had hold of her hand, and a cordial greeting ensued.
" Grown a little old in the mean time; I hope not
coldS'"  Her bearing did not seem to indicate it.
" And Cynthia, too-dear child! How you bloom!9'
Cynthia held his other hand.'I lovedyou once, you
chick, and used to kiss you. You're only a chicken,
now, and I see no objection" —-Smack!'" Ay, it's
over with. You needn't blush so. Take thought on
my grey hairs. Indeed, how have you all done in
the long interval? Well, I see. Delia-is married, they
say. By the everlasting hills, I was surprised. I could




190.GREEN MOUNTAIN
not have been more so if the Man in the Moon had
accosted me."  There was a pause in which all three
seemed to be thinking seriously about something.
6Thou art well, I see, friend Joshua," said my
mother, returning to the subject. "Always well,
Catherine," he responded, having the appearance
also of returning;' haven't been sick an hour in the
last five years."
"I'm glad to hear thee say so," said my mother.
"We have to thank a beneficent Providence on that
account, ourselves.  But come in. Supper will be
ready soon. Deacon, call thy father." Upon this
they went in, and I went to discharge my behest.
With a little of the hypocritical, as I had begun to
be mischievously inclined sometimes, I merely called
my father to supper; and walking along with him
into the house, enjoyed his surprise exceedingly.
"After five years' interval, how do I find you.?"
inquired Joshua, rising.  My father responded cordially, exhibiting more emotion than I had ever seen
in him before. They directly fell into a very animated conversation, Joshua doing the principal part of
the talking, expressing both his thoughts and recollections and my father's to a great extent. I listened




TRAVELLERS' ENTERTAINMENT.    191
until I began to lose interest in what they were says.
ing; and then I gave way to the speculation which
had infested my mind ever since he first addressed
me, namely, as to who he was. He was an old
acquaintance of the family: that was evident.  He
was a doctor,-so I had gathered from the conversation between him and my father. From Harrisburg,
I had gathered from the same source. I wanted to
know more about him. Singular old man! I loved
him. I could not help it. They all loved him. I
could see that plainly. I called Cynthia aside and
she satisfied me. He was an old school-mate of my
father's and mother's.  They had been to school
many a year together. In his youth, Joshua had
studied medicine, and had followed his profession
very successfully in C   (our county-town) and
vicinity. Before she could remember, he had gone to
Harrisburg to live. He had been to our house once
since: this she could remember. And she had seen
him five years before, when she and father and
mother were in Harrisburg. I could remember when
they went. " He is a bachelor," concluded my sis.
ter, " and isn't he a nice man a?"
"I like him," said I.




192            GRE}EN MOU'rAIN
"So do I," she said. "He's the best man in the
world."
Armed with these facts, I returned, and we all sat
down to supper.  The conversation shot off in
various directions, without coming back to any given
point, wandering very desultorily, touching upon one
thing and another, at last hitting me. "I see that
said baby —pride of a mother's heart-has grown
monstrously," remarked Joshna, looking apparently
awestricken at me. My mother assented modestly,
and I blushed. " Let's see, he's fourteen, according
to my reckoning, not?"
"The fifth of next month," answered my mother
promptly.
" Fourteen. Long years to him, I have no doubt,
longer than to the rest of us. Deacon, I observe you
call him. Do you deserve the name, my boy?
I know  a very worthy deacon  in Harrisburg.
Deacon,"-I was blushing deeply, and they were all
smiling —" you ought not to be ashamed of your
name."  The conversation was painful to nme, and he
knew it; so he changed it.
The supper, and afterwards the evening, passed off
very pleasantly, and we retired to sleep, Joshua




TRAVELLERS' ENTERTAINMENT.     193
bearing his huge portmanteau with him-" Not for
fear of robbery," he observed,  but for fear I shall
want to rob it myself.'
I was just about dropping into slumber, when a
sound like vocal music from Joshua's room, which
was adjoining mine, jerked me broad awake. Music
was a thing comparatively unknown in our parts,
particularly in olir house, and it startled me.  I
listened.  Joshua was evidently in great anxiety
wrestling with the pitch. Presently he captured it
and started off with an eminently successful pace as
it regarded sound, rising majestically into the labyrinth. Directly his pitch was gone.  He did not
seem at first aware of it. When he was, he stopped.
After a short skirmish on the spot, he went on again,
finishing with another piece altogether, whose end
was so much too low for his voice that the last three
or four notes put me in mind of trying to duck a cat.
I was amused. Though unversed in the science of
music, I had some sort of an idea what it should be.
I have by nature a good ear; and through the
medium  of a small Methodist congregation which
met for worship in our town, ad which I sometimes
out of curiosity had mingled with, had gained a little
Y~~~




194             GREEN MOU0NTAIN
incidental cultivation.  I perceived that Joshua's
effort was a laughable failure, but he did not. Far
from it. He seemed to draw inspiration from his
imaginary success, and glowingly tramped through
one piece after another for a half an hour or more,
whistling through the heights which his voice could
not reach, and coming to an end only by reason of
the interruption of a violent cough, which he could
not surmount, nor disguise.
The next morning at breakfast, my father, in a
rallying way, asked him how he slept. IIe took the
point, and replied, with a slight dash of embarrassment at first, "Well, quite well. Better than the
rest, maybe, eh. I declare I didn't think of your
private sentiments last night. I did get warm —
unusually so. But there is a power in those old
masters, by their manes! Ahasuerus, if I had followed music as a profession, I believe I might have
done something.  All my voice needs is careful
training. But that, you know, a man of my calling
can't do very well. I understand the science perfectly. I wish I could jot clown some of my concepm
tions, and had a voict to sing them, I'd show these
squalling, caterwauling popular vocalists how  the




TRAVELLERS' ENTERTAIINMET.    195
thing sAould be done. I never heard any music yet
that sounded to me like music-except perhaps in
dreams.-By the way, that brings up the dream I
had last night. You must hear it. I dreamt that
Mozart came to me, and sang so vehemently, and
with such exalted inspiration, that the notes took
material shapes and fell out of his mouth upon the
ground. I picked them up, and they gave out, each
according to its size, the most exquisite tones imaginable. I awoke trying to get the key note into my
ear. Mozart had told me if I could get the key note
in, he would repeat his song. Quite a dream wasn't
it? However, I know your constitutional objections
to the subject."
"By no mieans. Go on Joshua," my mother put
in. "Sing, and talk about it all thou pleasest. We
are commanded to bear with ohe another's infirmities," she concluded, smiling.
"Yes, yes, I know. But never mind, my tale is
told. Let us dismiss the subject."
During the forenoon and a part of the afternoon,
being engaged at my appointed task, I did not see
Joshua. Towards night, as I was sitting Cn the gatepost, taking boy-fashioned repose from  my labor,




196             GREEN MOUNTAIN
Joshua hailed me from the front door, asking me if I
wished to walk. Eagerly assenting, I joined him and
my father, and we strolled off, away down across the
old meadow towards an ancient forest, bounding its
opposite edge. The sun was about two hours high,
shining peacefully, and with a mellow light, upon the
silent, majestic trees, all along the side we were
approaching, filling the fresh foliage, as it were, with
living light, and imparting a most delightful sense of
repose to the soul.
As we walked leisurely on, looking around at
different objects of attraction,-now each for himself,
-now alltogether, looking in silence, except a brief
remark or ejaculation now and then, Joshua had a
train of thought suggested to him, apparently by the
general scene. I remember the theme.
"Could we always see the world under such a
light," thought he aloud, "I would be very much.
better contented in it. Could we always feel within
ourselves such balmy influence shed abroad, see it
and feel it, how much more bearable were human
life! I have watched men considerably one time and
another, and I have always found them at this hdur,
when the heavens were open and the earth respone




TRAVELLERS' EXTENT.     197
sive, in better mood, more susceptible to the appeals
of distress, more open to the reception of sound
thought, more suggestive of it. Is it not so?"
"Yes, I believe it is," replied my father, endeavoring to express in his countenance the philosophical depth which his words did not convey.
"I have found genius beginning its day of action
at this hour, shadowing forth great things that were
to live in the hearts of men for ever," continued
Joshua in general. "The criminal, it is said, lays
aside his bloody machinations, feeling the sweets of
remembered purity at such an hour, beneath such a
scene. Then-it is said-the breath of ripened beauty
is balmiest, her words more of the tone of heaven.
Hope is most quiet, memory most active, devotion
nearest to its God. Indeed mankind is better. It is
a blessed hour. Poets have sung about it, lovers
have loved it, dying saints have thanked God for it;
and I thank God for it, thank my stars for it. Ahasuerus!"
Ahasuerus, my father, had all the time looked
very profound; starting up, he answered"What."
"I'm thinking," said Joshua at the top of a long.




198            G1REEN MON.TABM
breath, " that we've got to climb this fence."  Sure
enough, we were right upon the meadow fence-a-a
nine-railed barrier. But we were soon over it, there
being a little emulation in the act, and entered with a
slower pace the grand old wood. Directly, Joshua
remarked, " There's a tree that puts me in mind of a
laughable thing that happened when I was a student,
a great many years ago. Old Doctor Schaium,-you
didn't know him, I guess." —My father had seen him
once or twice.-" Indeed! You know his make then.
Hle weighed three hundred and ten pounds avoirdupois,
with his boots and cane,-plump that before dinner.
I never could induce him to be weighed after dinner;
for with all his grossness he' had a delicacy about
revealing the extent of his libations and sacrifices to
the god, whose diadem is the waistband. IHe was
very indolent in body; and he cherished his indolence with a sort of pride. This pride took for its
object one significant fact of which he frequently
boasted —namely, that he had never been forced by
any earthly circumstance out of a wcai silince laying
aside his short clothes; and he often in connection
with this boast advanced the wish to be able to die
with the consciousness, that the pace most consistent




TRAVELLERS~ ENTERTAINMENT.      199
with human dignity had never been violated by him,,since arriving at years of discretion. This eccentricity, so often exhibited, and with such seriousness,
came to be, in the eyes of his friends and acquaintances, a fixed stratum in his character.  It was when
I was studying with him that the affair "happened
which I'm  going to tell you about. It had been
long brewing, but could not come to bead. At last a
fellow-student —a splendid chap-since dead, poor
fellow!-brought it about. Without communicating
his design, he persuaded me to act a part. He said
he wanted me to take a loaded rifle, and go to a certain point —which he described exactly, —at a certain
hour on a day mentioned, and post myself, watching
cautiously. The day came. Oblivious of what was in
the wind, I took the rifle, which was carefully loaded,
and proceeded to the place.  M/[y post was at the
corner of a large field, or square inclosed, in the
suburbs of the town, not far from the doctor's house.
On a diagonal line from where I stood, about fifty.
yards off, was a large tree, the only one in the field.
On casting about to discover the object of my being
there, I saw an animal, which from a mere glance, I
took to be an ox, grazing quietly near the corner, first




200             GREEN MOUNTAIN
to the left from where I was. I had been standing
there nearly an hour, and was beginning to goet impatient, when the creaking of a large gate away over
nearly to the opposite corner, attracted my attention.
Looking sharply in that direction, I discovered that
it was the old doctor entering the inclosure.  He
was coming from the direction of his house, and was
crossing the field, evidently to save distance, as in his
pedestrian tours he was always up to.:Solemnly
and steadily, he came on straight towards me. Busied
with concocting an excuse, which I knew I should
have to furnish him for being there, I did not pay
further attention to him, until I heard a low, ominous
bellowing. Looking up, I saw the supposed ox, pawing the ground, and shaking his head fiercely at the
doctor, who, becoming suddenly aware of his situation,-being as he was, though considerably past the
middle of the field, yet some distance from the corner,-quickened his pace perceptibly. I saw through
the plot at a glance. Ha! ha! Go it guns! Now,
old man-now for a run. Ay, my old doctor; —bt
no, he wouldn't run; no earthly circumstance should
force him out of the cherished pace. Yet when
he saw the rampant animal start, and with tremeul



TRAVELLERS' ENTERTAINMENT.     201
ous bounds, annihilate the distance between them,
I believe he would have rmn, had he not at about the
same moment seen me, and also discerned, by my contortions, the state of my mind.  IHe was about sixty
yards from the tree, which was his nearest point of
safety, if it could be deemed anything more than a
safety-valve in his case.
On came the fierce animal, shortening the protecting
span of distance with amazing rapidity; and on came
the glowing doctor, now in that doubtful province,
between a walk and a run. But he would not run, —
no sir; no earthly circumstance should bring him to
that. He expressed this unequivocally. I could see
it in the toes and heels of his boots, in the sweep
of his cane, in the wrinkles of his pantaloons, in the
set of his hat. "But you'll have to run," said I
aloud, with a dash of apprehension. VMy apprehension deepened. I began to fear he would sacrifice his
life to the eccentric notion. Accordingly I drew my
rifle to my eye. He was near the tree. —The dreadful
bull-a bull, and no mistake, was within three bounds
of him. There was a moment, I did not look at the
doctor. When 1 did, he was behind the tree, the
bull goring the roots on the opposite side. It was not
9*




202             GREEN MOUNTAIN
over yet, I perceived. After expending a part of his
fury on the tree, the angry animal attempted to outflank his victim. This was trying to the doctor; yet
he held his own nimbly and well, for so huge a bulk.
But the bull's rage held on, and the doctor's strength
began to give out. He was failing rapidly. The
bull's horns once or twice caught in the skirt of his
coat. There was but one chance for him; to divert
the enemy a little, and rul, for the fence. Life
was sweet-plum-puddings, and canvas-backs were
sweeter.  Weighty  considerations.  Indeed, there
was no other alternative but death or life; bull-pudding or plum. Wise old physician, approved of the
faculty, well-esteemed!  tHe snatched his red-silk
handkerchief from his pocket, whipped it around his
cane, and shaking it in the face of the foaming beast,
threw it as far as he could. The bull pursued it, and
the doctor ranr to the best of his ability..Reaching
the fence, he rolled over bodily, falling upon the
ground.  "Oh, hold me!" screamed a voice in my
ear, and a hand grasped myzarm, convulsively. It
was my fellow-student, completely beside himself
with mirth.  Fearing the doctor's vengeance, we
vanished speedily, What became of the old man's




TRAVELLERS' ENTERTAINMENT.      203
wfrath I don't know. He never manifested it at all.
N either did he thereafter ever indulge, before us two
at least, in his time-honored boast."  While Joshua
was relating, this we had gone some distance into the
forest. "I never was better pleased than with this,"
observed Joshua, referring to the scene.'"These
grand, old trees make me think of ages past away.
Ahasnerus, Indians have looked upon these* trees —
Indians that had never heard of white men. Think
of that. Don't it take you back?"
"Yes, it does," responded my father with dry
emphasis.
"I love to wander," continued Joshua," in a good
old wood. It makes me calm. There is a spirit in
it:-mild, ancient spirit which I love. I co " —"Hark!" interrupted my father with an expression
*f surprise and anxiety upon his face.
"Father!"  It was the piercing cry of despair.
It came from the direction of old Abel's pond, from
which we were not far off. We ran. As we were
running we heard the cry repeated fainter than
before.  "Help! help!" in a gruff yet agonized
voice, echoed through the forest. We quickened our
pace. In a few moments we were out of the wood




204            GREEN MIOUNTiAIN
in sight of the pond hard by. Joshua and my father
were several yards ahead of me, and I, not feeling
that I could be of any use, halted to look. In the
middle of the pond was a boat upset, and a short
distance from the shore was a greyheaded man swimming desperately, yet making but little progress,
towards the boat. By the time Joshua and my
father had reached the shore, the former had divested
himself of his upper clothing, and without halting he
leapt like a deer far out into the water, and swam
for the boat. Just before he caine to it, the head of
a boy arose swayingly above the surface near him.
With a skillful movement Joshua fastened his hand
in the boy's hair, and wheeling, made for the shore.
My father having in the mean time secured a rail
from a neighboring fence, waded out, and with his
assistance Joshua brought the insensible body upon
the land. I was standing by when they brought it
out, and recognized the features at once. It was old
Abel's son-only child. He had once been a crony
of mine. Samuel was his name. He was the best
arithmetic scholar in the school. While I was run
ning this over. in an excited manner, standing around
in the way, Joshua and my father were trying to




TRAVELLERS' ENTEiRTAINNMENT.  205
bring him to life. Old Abel, having swam the whole
length of the pond, came to their assistance; and
after half an hour or so, they succeeded in restoring
animation to the boy. Upon which old Abel took
him in his arms tenderly, and bore him away towards
his home, and we retraced our steps. As we were
walking through the wood on our way home, Joshua
remarked. "I wish I hadn't put a hand into that
affair.'
"Why.?" said, seeing my father paid no attention to the remark.: Oh, I know the boy," he replied.
I remembered Sam had been for a few months past
in Harrisburg, employed there as clerk in a dry
goods store. I was about asking further explanation,
when he resumed. "Deacon, I know you take it
strange. But I don't like to see such boys grow up.
He's of bad stock. And he's coming into possession
of his legacy of meanness. That woman bequeathed
it to him, cursed him with it. He should have
drowned, ay, he should have drowned for all me, if I
had known who it was before I went into the water.
I would have left him on the shore there to die after
we had him out but for a certain weakness I have —




206            GREEN MOUNTAIN
force of habit. He should die, die young.  The
world don't need him. It didn't need-Oh, bitterness! Gall! gall!"  His voice was clogged with
emotion, and crossing his arms behind him. he looked
sorrowfully upon the ground.
"Thee should be charitable," calmly enjoined my
father.
Between surprise and conjecture I was considerably excited; and I listened eagerly for Joshua's reply.
But he made none. Neither did my father make
any more remarks. They were both silent the rest
of the way; and during the evening Joshua was
sober, saying but little, and that reluctantly. What
could it be that so disturbed him? It was long
b)efore I knew anything about it; and when I did, I
only wondered he had not been more bitter-more
cast down.
In the morning Joshua was himself again, only
showing that he remembered the last night's adventure by avoiding allusion to it. Throughout the day,
except at meals, I did not see him. During the evening he talked of music, discoursing two or three
hours, elaborating a system which he intended to
present to the world some day or other, he said. He




TRAVELLERS' ENTERTAINMENT.     207
was very tedious, I remember. If I had not surmised it before, I saw then plainly that with all his
good qualities, and clearness of understanding, one
thing was gone from him, if it ever made a part of
him, namely, a power to perceive that the sphere of
music was a forbidden realm to him; and that
through fancying-yea, believing-it was not, he was
making himself a laughing-stock, and oftentimes an
incubus, where he might be winning love and commanding respect.
The baneful star reigned that night, until some time
after he went to his room, and he again courted the
"power of those old masters," getting a fit of coughing, and going to sleep, finally.
This monomania was the only unpleasant thing
about him. I loved him more and more, the longer
he stayed. He grew quite familiar with me, talking
to me of subjects almost too abstruse for my untutored
understanding, yet talking in so plain a way, bringing
the thing out always so clearly, and was always so
pleasant and patient with my foolish, at-random suggestions, unfledged imaginings, and disjointed analogies, that I loved him when most mortified, and could
have sat, it seemed to me, for ever in conversation with
him-except when music was his theme.




208             GREEN MOUNTAIN
I would like to relate some more of the many
things which I remember of him in connection with
this visit, but I must hurry on to matters that will
interest you more than these.
He stayed with us about three weeks. The hour
of his departure was a sad one to me-sad to us all.
It was a quiet, sunny morning, early. We stood at
the gate, Joshua outside, his portmanteau slung upon
his arm. Everything was so quiet. A dreamy sense,
a reverie, rested upon us all-seemed to rest upon
every living thing around us. We stood there, loth
to say " good-by!" We were getting quite sorrowful.
Something must be said, and Joshua said it beamingly, breaking the charm.  " My very dear friends,
I don't like such antitheses. This isn't the way you
looked when I came here. You must bear in mind
that me ye have not always, neither can. I am a
bird of passage-of the species of vulture it is true.
I am, too, superannuated. It is said,'Time and tide
wait for no man.' I do not ask them to tarry; but
take Time by the forelock and lead him onl his way
and I laugh at the slothful tide. What's the use.
This going back foremost into the Kingdom, I hold
to be a shameful reversing of manly energies. When
I go, I uoeth, my friends; when -I come, it is the




1CAVELLERS.-ENTERTAINMENT.   209
same. No wind is more free, never was. When I
love, 1 love. You know that, my good Catherine,
you know that, Ahasuerus. And when I hate, I hate.
You know that, too. I love you all. God knows my
heart, I do.  Catherine. good-by!"-He took her
hand. —' You were kind to me once. May you shine
the brighter in Heaven for it! Brave Ahasuerus,
you are growing grey in the battle. Time is outflanking you. But be stout to the end. Good-by!
That was an honest tear, Ahasuerus. Do you remember when you saw me weep? There was a desert
around me then. It drank all the tears of my life,a bitter yielding up, a greedy draught! Do not think
me heartless. Cynthia, sweet girl, may you be blest.
You deserve it. Love him,-I am serious now,-love
him, but not with all your heart.  Good-by! Deacon," he concluded, turning to me, "you're too
young for such a strain. Be a good boy. Think
sometimes of her who lies in that grove yonder. It
will not hurt you any. I-uust hurry. Well, come
and see me. I think now my business is so arranged
that I can visit you oftener. I must. You will hear
from me before long. Write."  It was the last word,
spoken as he hurried away.
My heart was heavy all that day. There was a




210            GREEN MOUrNTAIN
dismalness about the house, about the barn, in the
field, the old forest;-upon everything in fact, associated with Joshua, rested an invisible shadow, which I
felt. N/obody said anything at dinner, nor at supper,
nor in the evening. Everything was quiet, very
quiet. Towards bed-time, as I sat musing, generally
impressed with Joshua in the various phases presented by my memory, my mind centered all at once
upon some expressions in his valedictory of the morning. " Do you remember when you saw me weep?
There was a desert around me then.?"  And what he
said to my mother.   You were kind to me once."
They were mysterious expressions to me. Yet my
father and mother understood them. They seemed
to shed tears more at them than at his going away.
His remarks after saving the drowning boy, too:
they all referred to some passage of his life-history
that had a deep and mournful interest. So much I
conjectured; but could go no further.  I wanted to
know more. My parents could tell me. I would
ask them.'Father," said I, "what did Joshua mean this
morning when he talked about thy knowing when he
wept?"
My father made no reply; but in a minute or two




TRAVELLEIRS' ENTERTAINMENT.   211
my mother said, looking solemnly at me.' "MWy son,
thy father must not tel_ thee.  Cynthia does not
know, and thou must not."  I knew it would be vain
to push the matter, so I dropped it, reverting to his
remarks again. There was something he had said
which I could not at first recall. I could remember
that it touched me deeply when spoken. But the
expression. I strove to recall it for some time in
vain. "Think of her who lies in that grove yonder!"
That was it. My parents had told him of my bereavemnent, and his good heart had felt for me; and from
that remairk I saw that he had thought of me and her
together, perhaps-it was but a dim conjecture then,
which hardly took the form of thought-not wholly
separate from his own youthful experience.
When I went to my room, which I did early,
everybody and everything appeared so gloomy-I
sought out the little casket in my trunk which contained the dear gift-the pocket-Bible that had once
been Seraph's. I opened the precious volume, and
read for the thousandth time the fondly remembered
name. It had been written with a pencil, and was
almost erased; still I could trace the lines in all their
delicate windings; and, as was my custom, I traced




212             GREEN MOUNTAIN
them then; and they became, as they had always, a
mirror held to the past-the sunny past. Peculiarly
distinct were the oft-recalled impressions that night.
With peculiar force they touched me.  A sweet
reverie, almost like a dream, came upon me; and for
a long time I sat, or rather knelt there, before my
trunk, holding the little volume, and looked into the
magic mirror. I wandered-stopping here and there
-back into the far perspective, even to the rivulet in
the old meadow, and heard again its prophesy. But
there was now something happy in the memory of its
Coice,-I had felt it before: —perhaps it was not the
rivulet's voice alone: —it was something of Immortality. My soul caught the strain.  Vibrating, it
kindled my imagination, and a vision new and
strange opened upon me. It was a vision of the
future-of the distant future. It was very enrapturing, but brief, coming and fading like a blinding
flash. Yet it turned the current of my thoughts. I
closed the little book and put it away, and went to
bed, wishing for that hour to come which would
bring me to Seraph, and her to me, to be happy
for ever, both of us.
The next day was the Sabbath. I attended at the




TRAVELLERS' ENTERTAINMENT.     213
old place of worship with mly parents. It was an
-unassuming, antiquated building, in its dotage, yet
out of deference-I know no other reason-occupied
still. It stood at.a four-corners, nearly a mile from
thile village, and something over half that distance
from our house. A peaceful location it was, like the
congregation of quiet-loving spirits that had for more
than half a century met there from time to time to
do homage to their God.  A pleasant grove surrounded the building, as if protecting it. In the
grove were some pines - stalwart, ever holding
legendary converse with the winds. The grave-yard
was there in that grove, occupying the corner
opposite the sanctified structure. How natural, how
beautiful the sentiment of our fathers, that the dead
must sleep where the living meet to worship!
After worship I went into the grave-yard. As I
stood by the mound so hallowed, I felt to reproach
myself quite bitterly that I had not been there
oftener of late. Only the fourth time since spring
had opened, and it was almost June. Yet the place
had an enchantment about it. I felt it when I was
there. Why did I not come oftener? I had not forgotten Seraph-oh, my heart! no. New objects had




214           GOREEN MOUNTAIN
come to divert me. Upon the great Stream of Time
I was being borne away. Yet it was not altogether
these. I knew it then. There was a voice whispering to my secret soul-never more distinctly than on
that serene Sabbath afternoon, while I stood looking
upon the silent grave —that she, dear Seraph, was
with me always, living, watching, communing with
me.  Her body was of earth-dust, her spirit a
sentient being-of heaven. I lingered an hour or
so, and then walked away homeward lightsomely.
There was a change within me. I perceived it, yet
did not remark it. I should no more look back, as
for the last few months I had. Forward I sawdimly, a glimpse-I saw a life opening before me.
A life of realities, pleasant they seemed to me then,
gorgeous realities.  Then a going down into the
Valley of Shadows, and a glorious uprising for evermore!  I saw, and was happy.  Who showed it
me?  Who taught my soul to believe it?  I was
what the world terms visionary then, though I had
scarcely learned to think. I am so now, having
learned. These things were not the offspring of my
unaided mind. Seraph. She lives.
In a few days the general gloom which Joshua's




TRAIVELERS' E]NTERTAINMENT.   215
departure had brought down, passed off, and I
resumed the routine of duties, manual and other, with
cheerfulness and abundant hope. The summer went
by genially, bringing, among its other natural productions, a long letter from Harrisburg, signed with
a prodigious flourish, and a stray quirk or two, by.
way of ornament-" Joshua Noyles."  It was a very
amusing and interesting letter to all of us; and was
read and re-read until, through fear of its total destruction, my mother locked it up in the bureau
drawer, and we, that is Cynthia and I, gradually forgot it.
The autumn came, at once gay and mournful, as
death should be. It was late in that season. Winter
was showing itself on the mountains, impatient to
begin its work in the silent valleys. It was a gloomy
day. There were thick clouds in place of the sky,
and it was cold. I had been husking corn in the
field all day. As I came in from my work I was
met at the door by Cynthia, who was so flushed and
smiling that I knew she had something to tell me.
"Who do you think has got home?" she asked,
betraying by her form of expression what she evidently wished to conceal. I guessed right the first




216             GREENE MOUNTAMN
time, greatly to her surprise. "Fanny Cline," said
I; "and I want to see her."  I wanted to see her
because she was Seraph's sister. She had been next
in the series older than Seraph, and was now the
youngest of the family. In times past I had been
acquainted with her, yet never familiarly. She was
about a year older than I, and while Seraph lived
she had seemed so much older, that I hardly ever
thought of her, except as an older sister, like Cynthia. The youngest now. There were two other
sisters, considerably older, both married; and a bachelor brother, the eldest of the children; the father
and mother, exemplary Friends and citizens, middleaged, grey, weather-beaten, hardy people, and withal
intelligent: such was the family of Clines.
Fanny, since Seraph's death, had been absent, staying with the maiden aunt, and was just returned,
much increased in stature, and in beauty, too. So
Cynthia said, as we walked in together. I found it
true. I had used to think she was handsome, her
cheeks were so red, and her lips; her eyes so sparkling; her long, silken hair, which hung and waved in
such luxuriant ringlets; and more than all, the imperturbable cheerfulness of her disposition. Now she




TRAVELLERS' E NTERTAINMENT.    217
appeared beautiful, decidedly so.  She still wore
her hair loose.  It was very luxuriant, of a dark
auburn. Her eyes were dark and somewhat large,
at once tender and sparkling as of yore-yet more
tender. Her mouth was most exqnisitely chiselled,
and around it reposed, looking sweetest in repose, a
peculiar expression which gave an exhaustless charm
to her countenance.  So I found her sitting in Cynthia's room, glowing with health-indeed the picture
of it, it appeared to me. Perhaps it was not all that
which made her so ruddy. I was glad to see her,
because she was Seraph's sister; and in the excess of
my friendship I kissed her. She was going to resist
me; but I think she divined my sentiment, and
received the offering approvingly.  After the first
ebullition, I was very calm, much calmer than she
was.  We talked together of the changes that had
taken place since her going away, gravely, like older
people. Then we talked of the more distant past;
and spoke with subdued voices of the dear one. She
wept, but I did not. She was very sad, and I strove
to comfbrt her in the same manner as I had been
comforted. I spun my efforts to considerable length,
finding it very pleasant to talk to her,-so pleasant
10




218             GREEN MOUNTl'AIN
that I departed from  the lmain object several times,
becoming quite personal, toying with her soft hair —
we were on a settee, side by side-and wadding up
her handkerchief, much  to  her inconvenience.
Finally she became cheerful, and we familiarly
talked and laughed, mainly about the old clothes 1
had on, which began to embarrass me a little. Before
that theme was entirely exhausted, the evening was
up. I escorted Fanny home, feeling more and more
foolish because of my apparel. and when I parted
from her, before saying "good night," I had to offer
a serious apology for my exterior.
The next day, at my work, I had a new theme of
reflection. Yet I did not think so much as I felt on
the subject. So beautiful she was. I believe every
dozenth pulsation of my heart all that day, brought
her image in some phase or other before me. Physical deformities of mine-and I was astonished as
well as pained to find so many-became disagreeably
prominent. It was a very long day, too: I seemed to
have lived a week in it. Yet I was not in love, only
beginning to be; quite earnestly, however, it must
be confessed.
Fanny, Fanny, Fanny. I wrote it in the snow. I




TRAYELLER$S ENTERTAINMENT.    219
wrote it on my slate. I wrote it very elaborately on
an enamelled card, with ornamental touclles in red
ink —wrote the name in full, Fanny Cline. I showed
the card to her when she next came to visit Cynthia,
which was about a week after the interview described.
It was about all I could do, I was so painfully embarrassed in her presence. The sentiment had grown
upon me amazingly during that week. She praised
the chirography exhibited on the card, and with a
very sweet smile, told me that if I would do my own
name in the same manner upon another card, she
would keep it as a gift.
The two interviews, that is, the first and this,
differed principally in character in her doing the most
of the talking, and my becoming an enchanted
listener. I could do nothing but smile. I felt very
loose and buoyant; and when I attempted to steady
myself into something like a dignified mien-which I
experienced a growing necessity of —it seemed as
though I had no foundation, and it was like steadying,
or trying to, a very rampant balloon. I smiled on
still, not saying anything that I could bear to recall;
and when she went away, I labored under the general
impression that I had acted a very silly part. Some



220             GREEN MOUNTAIN
thing must be done, I thought, or I should be for ever
disgraced in her eyes. She would come again the
next Sabbath evening, so she had told Cynthia. A
petition was sent up, and to my surprise met with
immediate attention, namely, to fit me out with a
new suit of clothes, ostensibly for the purpose of
appearing respectably at church-my then existing
Sunday suit, it was urged, being inadequate to that
end. Within four clays I was fitted to my satisfaction.
So much done. The card was written on next, very
successfully. I was prepared. The Sabbath camethe evening. And Fanny came. When I thought
she and Cynthia had been together a proper length
of time, I went to her room, " dressed to death," and
ushered myself into their presence. For a few
minutes I succeeded in passing myself for a civil
young gentleman in his teens, but the very first time
Fanny looked into my face with that bewitching
smile of hers, I relapsed helplessly into the old state,
imbecile as ever. I brought forth the card, but her
praises only sank me deeper. I reverted to my new
suit. It did no good.-It was absolutely nothing, and
worse, for I felt unworthy of the clothes. After a few
minutes there was a reaction, and I felt better-only




TnRAIELLERStS ENTERTAINMEINT.   221
better. I knew I ought not to stay there and immolate my dignity in that manner. But I could not get
away. Besides the allurement to remain, I knew that
if I should attempt to break loose, all that had gone
before would be swallowed up in the enormous awkwardness with which I should accomplish it. It was
of no use. I was in the vortex, and as effectually
lost as any poor seafaring wretch in the great maelstrom. I became, patient and felt better still-quite
refreshed, as one feels after a storm in hot weather.' I
actually made two or three remarks just before
starting home with her, that I felt in some degree
proud of.
When we parted that night, I dared to press her
hand; warm and velvety it was, only these; there was
no response. It was a desperate act of mine, and as
I walked homeward, it occurred to me that possibly
the rash venture had given her offence. The suspicion was anguishing, and I could not repel it. The
only alleviation I had was the thought that thil act
was past recall, and I could only show by future conduct how much I reprobated it.
The next day, MIonday, I commenced going to
school. I was getting to be quite a large boy —a




222             GREEN MOUNTATIN
young man, I thought so I went this winter to the
village-school, a select affair, where everything was
very prim, and advanced, things and scholars bearing
the stamp of the tutor, a sickly young elder, who,
being unable to perform his sacerdotal duties, had
taken to teaching. I disliked him at first. His preciseness and dryness of manner sifted upon me
suffocatingly, and I went home the first night regretting deeply that I had committed myself so much
as to commence.
But I did not dislike himn so much the second day.
The third not so much. And when it came Saturday
night, I found myself looking forward to Mlonday
again, with some pleasure.
Sabbath evening, Fanny was at our house as usual.
I had something to talk about- that time, and as long
as the fund lasted, I passed.  But that was not long,
and the first thing that visited me when I began to
feel barren, was the remembrance of my foolish act
in the dark, a week before. It crushed me for the
instant quite fiat, but I was directly comforted with
the reflection that her conduct did not show that she
remembered it, and-strange vicissitude of feeling!-a
desire to do it over again sprang up. Ihad the.




TIRAVELLERS' ENTERTA INMENT.     223
escorting of her as usual. But it was very cold, and
she kept her hands in her muff.  Could I put mine
in there too? Then I had a suspicion that it was not
the dangerous weather either that made her so jealous
of those pretty hands, though they were tender. But
I was attending a select school, in the village. There
were other girls. IHandsomle ones. I did not feel,
therefore, so dependent as formerly. In fact, this
time I was myself offended-a little. What changes!
-apparent.
INotwithstanding, I thought of Fanny frequently
that week;  more towards the latter part, as the
novelty of my new place was wearing away.
Sunday night again I saw her. The same sorry,
unsatisfactory figure again I cut, or rather mangled.
I never should mend it, so it seemed. That night,
for the first time, I became sensible of a melancholy,
on account of my dismal relation to the adored
Fanny-adored now. I was in love in earnest,
though not yet quite fifteen. To be sure I have
had impulses of passion since, to which that was but
a small lambent flame; but then it was as serious as
it has ever been.
Sweet Fanny, I love thee. It wvas a secret thought,




224             GRE EN MIOJNTAIN
first-sighed in secret with a gush of raptllle. Then I
ventured it upon my slate, written half of it at a
time, and rubbed out instantly. Then out in ifull, to
be looked at. Directly it was down on a piece of
paper. The paper was torn up and chewed. Then
it was very carefully written on fine paper in red ink
-symbolic —and some other words were added
including my given name. Saturday afternoon it
was done.  Sunday evening, in great agitation, I
secretly slipped it into Fanny's muff as it lay on
Cynthia's table. That night Cynthia went home
with her.'Why?  I had not been private enough.
Ay, I was caught! But I couldn't help it. And, in
truth, I did not -care. I'd not be ashamed of my feelings. Cynthia might laugh; but it wouldn't make
Fanny less sweet. Alas! it might lessen me in her
eyes. The thought was bitter, like nettles, and stung
like them too. But I was launched. TLings must
take their course. This was my conclusion, and I
went to bed upon it.
The week was long and fruitful of impracticable
plans —I could not let tihings take their course —founded upon conditional circumstances. Plans as
to my getting out of the scrape, or getting further




TRAVEILERS' ENTERTAINMENT.    225
into it, or getting along with it. I was, or fancied I
was, indifferent as to which. I call them impracticable; for when Saturday night came, not one
remained, and I ingenuously opened my eyes on the
Sabbath to receive my renewed anticipation of the
evening in as blank, unfortified a state as ever.
It grew dark very slowly that evening. The twi-.light clung like a stain.  The stars came out
reluctantly. The clock was nnaccountably lazy, yet
kept pace with the time. The phenomena almost
made me feel superstitious. The time went slower
and slower, and by seven o'clock it seemed to have
stopped altogether. I could hold on no longer.
"Why"-I checked myself, fearing to betray
irritation, and passing my hand over my face the
more to mask my feelings, added, "' How is Fanny
to-day? HIast thou seen her?" to Cynthia.
"Yes, I saw her this afternoon," she replied, with.
out looking directly at me.'"She is well, very
well."
I thought-indeed I was quite sure —I saw a nest
of suppressed wrinkles struggling around her eyes
and mouth, and the next instant I was submerged as
it were with a tepid wave. All along through tlhe
o0*




22 6            GREI N -MOUNTAIN
day, and up to that moment, 1 had avoided thinking
directly of the. last Sunday evening's circumstance.
Now I could not help it. And worse, I could think
of nothing else. Oh, the night! For a youngster not
much acquainted wznith real troubles-yet sonmewhat,
too —I was very miserable. I had wounded the bird
I would tenderly have caught, and she had flown.
Until after midnight I lay wide awake in trial,
striving to buckle on the panoply of indifference. I
had at first some imaginary success. But there were
two or three things that held out —among which my
dignity. Chafed with the consciousness that a great
fool had existed for the past month under my name,
it would not yield, and in a state of total discomfiture
I fell asleep.
During the week that followed, I increased my
endeavors, not only to induce indifference towards
what I had done, but towards the prime cause. I
addressed myself to study with assiduity; and, as
opportunity occurred, sought to enlarge my acquain
tance among the young ladies of the school. In this
latter I succeeded amazingly. I had had no idea I
was so popular. I suppose there was something
about me very pleasing to the other sex. At any




TRAVELLEItS' ENTERTAINMTENT.     227
rate tkere seemed to be from the reception I met
with at once. All smiles and laughter they were,
sacrificing themselves entirely to please me. It was
agreeable, that's a fact, and  diverted me —so far
answering the purpose for which I had sought their
society. WVith the social enjoyment thus afforded,
and the new interest which my studies gave, I passed
along very smoothly, getting through the next Sabbath evening with only a few sage reflections, in
which there was some satisfaction; for the fact of
Fanny's not being at our house confirmed me entirely
in my supposition, which caused me to view the
whole affair in the aspect of a necessary evil. I was
quite philosophical for a youth-the more so, perhaps,
for having just read a long letter from Joshua, which
had, strangely enough, a good deal in it bearing
pretty directly upon the question. Yet all the while
I had a sense like being on thin ice over fathomless
depths.
But the ice grew thicker, and time went steadily
on. For several weeks, perhaps two months, I did
not see Fanny, except at divine worship on the Sabbath, and that was the same as not seeifig her at all.
A cci dentally —  had no reason to think otherwise then




228             GREEN MOUNTAWN
— one evening as I. returned from school, I met her
between our house and hers. She was humming a
scrap of music in a very lively mood, and said "good
evening" to me with great cheerfulness of manner,
but went straight by me, though I halted, for I had it
in my heart to say something more. As I stood looking at her receding form, which seemed to float
rather than walk, the depths throbbed-but the ice
did not break.
It was getting to be spring. Harrow-shaped flocks.of wild-geese, and vast flocks of pigeons were flying to
the northward. The snow had mostly disappeared,
clinging in a dull icy form only in obscure hollows,
and here and there along the northern side of stone
fences. Black-birds were making vocal the swamps
and lowlands, and early flowers were springing up in
the woods. The select school was closed, and I was
at home working on the farm. It was a warm, serene
day-cloudless, and full of hope. I was in. the field
pretending to labor, yet preferring rest, which I was
indulging in at the time of which I- speak. I was
sitting on the fence, basking in the sunshine, and
musing upon the events of the past winter. 1 was
sad. Much as I had disliked my teacher at first, J




TRAVELLERS- ENTERTAINMENT.     229
had come to love him. He had been always kind to
mle, and now I was thinking of his kindness, of his
misfortunes, and of the likelihood of my never seeing
him again, as his health was very poor, and everybody said he would die soon. I was thinking of the
hour of parting; how he ranged us in a semicircle,
and shook hands with each, saying "good by!" and
how the tears ran down his pale, hollow cheeks, as he
went on in the painful ceremony, and how each one,
when his or her turn was past, went away weeping.
From these sorrowful recollections I was aroused by
the sound of voices. 1 looked up, and saw Cynthia
and Fanny approaching. They were coming leisurely
across the field, right towards me. I thought they
did not see me, and being afraid of becoming privy to
their artless remarks, I leapt briskly off the fence and
hawked sonorously. It was gratuitous.
"Lazy boy!" cried Cynthia playfully, " sitting on
the fence all day. I'll tell father."
" How do ye do, ladies?" said I with a low bow.
"What?" inquired Cynthia, catching her breath
in the midst of a laugh. I repeated the performance,
which, from my confusion, proved a bad imitation.
"WVe are all well, except the family," she res.




230            IGREEN:MOUNTAIN
ponded. Then they both laughed, Fanny blushing
and looking down. I could see no point to the
remark, yet I laughed as though I did, and so they
came up to me, Fanny leaning on Cynthia's arm,
looking so fresh and beautiful! It was going- the
ice. I cast a stern glance at her as an anchor. I felt
justified in so doing. Why should she tempt me?the witch. For a moment -the smallest fraction of
an ordinary moment -her eyes met mine. VMy soul!
it was too late. The bfountains of the great deep were
broken up.
" Well, brother, how dost thou like work 2" asked
my sister soberly. I was smiling on Fanny-all
smile it seemed to me-and answered. " Very well."
"Thou findest it rather hard I reckon," remarked
Fanny, her voice musically sweet.
"Oh!" I commenced, as though in harmony with
some imaginary music, then dropping to the key of
practical life I ended, "' rather hard." But I was not
thinking of what she was. Daily labor was forgotten.
I was very much confused.
To my temporary relief, my sister at this point dis,
covered some beauty or oddity in my jacket buttons,
and entered into an examination of then —temn




TRAVELLERS' ENTE{RTAINMENT.    231
porary; for in so doing she pulled Fanny close to me,
The emanating glow of her healthful presence —I felt
it flooding me with rapture. Cynthia induced her to
touch with her finger one of the buttons she was
examining. As she withdrew her hand, mine by
strange coincidence was rising, and they met softly
palm to palm,-but an instant; both withdrew as
though each had touched a serpent.
"Cynthia, let us go back," said Fanny, looking
towards the house and away from me.
" Well, as thou mindest," responded my sister
cheerfully, and wheeling gracefully, they went away
arm in arm as they had come-yet soberly.
" Oh, my angel!" I whispered fervently, my burning eyes resting upon, the adored form. "Oh,
misery!" loaded the next breath. "She does not
love me. She will not love. What shall I do?" I
was overwhelmed with melancholy. All that I had
done to fortify myself-all my fancied security, gone
as chaff. "Dear, dear Fanny. Cruel Fanny. She
might love me. There is nothing hateful about me,
I know. Other girls, prouder than she, are glad of
my attentions. She shuns me as if I were wild and
filthy, or wicked, and would do her harm."




232             GEEN MOtUNTAIN
There was no alleviation, except a little in uttering
my woes. It was morning when the foregoing
transaction came to pass. At noon I could eat nothing. "Thou art sick, my son," remarked my mother,
feeling my pulse. I was.
"Let him work. That will cure him," said my
father.
" Oh, no, father; he isn't well. Don't thee see? he
is pale," expostulated Cynthia.
" I know what'll cure him," said my father, regardless. So did I.
That afternoon I did not work in the field. I went
to my bed-room, and in the midst of sighs, groans,
and some hot tears, gave birth to a few short, irregular stanzas upon the subject of love. Short and irregular as they were, they expressed volumes for me. I
felt greatly relieved, so much so, that about four
o'clock I went down and ate a hearty meal.
Still, a dim, and dimming shadow of melancholy
remained-for days, weeks. It did not go away at
all for the present.
Fanny did not come to our house except when I
was at work in the field. She never was there when
I was there. Why? Why? I frequently asked




TRAVELLERS' ENTERTAINMENT.    233
myself  At last, in a bold mood, I asked Cynthia.
She did not -answer me, and she blushed a little, I
thought.  I did not repeat. Thus matters went on.
The spring passed, and the summer, nearly. It was
late in that season, that a pic-nic was concocted. The
fact was duly and formally made known to me by
way of a note, requesting my attendance —with lady.
With lady.  Who should that lady be?  Fanny
would not go with me; and I would go with no one
else. I guessed there would be no lady. Yet I must
have a lady. or stay at home. Some one might offeri
to take Fanny. Yes. But could I stand that?  No.
I would makle an effort to get her. I penned a brief,
formal invitation, and through the medium of Cynthia, had it conveyed to her. I was so much surprised when Cynthia handed me, on her return, a
billet, that I blushed exceedingly-partly because I
thought it was my own sent back. With pleasure my
invitation was accepted. But it was merely a form.
She might have written the same to anybody. So I
thonght; but, like a sensible youth, I quarrelled not
with the thought, because it would come to nothing
but bitterness.  She had accepted my company,
That should suffice.




234            GRIEEN MOUNTAIN
The day appointed for the pic-nic- came, and in
good country style Fanny and I joined the party, and
all went gleesomely away to a grove upon the bank
of a large stream, three or four miles distant from my
fath er's.  The day passed in the happiest manner,
and. it was pretty far in the evening when we separated to go to our homes. During the whole of the
joyous time, Fanny was the gayest of the gay; but
when the company separated, and we were alone
togGther, going homeward, she was silent. I made
some casual remarks, to which she answered briefly,
but her voice was mild-had a touch of pathos in it
which thrilled me. Oh, how 1 loved those sweet
accents! but could not utter my love.
It was dark when we arrived at her father's. The
new moon had set, and it was quite dark. I held one>
of her hands in mine while opening the gate that she
might pass through: the impulse was upon me. Conscience raised a voice of warning. Caution pulled its
thousand strings. They were nothing. I obeyed the
impulse'and pressed her hand. Warm and velvety it
Was,-and something more. The keenest delight I
believe my soul has ever experienced, was at that
moment.  Tenderly given it was-that response



TRAVELLERS' ENTERTAINMENT.     235
with a tremor of her fingers. I felt it all. I feel it
now. I felt it this evening, when we'were sitting in
silence, and the twilight was fading. I shall never
forget it; for it was the first true love-response that
greeted my opening passion.' What time is it'" asked the Quaker of the supposed lawyer, who was consulting his watch.' I beg pardon, sir," responded the other, essaying
to put his watch back into its fob. "Don't let it
interrupt you.  It's impudence I know; but don't
let it interrupt you, sir."
" By no means," cheerfully said tile Quaker. " I
really want to know  the time.  Miy watch has
stopped."
Assured that he had done no outrage, the lawyer
drew forth his time-piece again, and scrutinizing it
carefully by the moonlight, he announced that it was
quarter-past nine.
" You will release me, then, I hope," said the Quaker, addressing us collectively.  "It's bed-time for
honest people, according to the saying."
"Yes, but you don't mean to apply that remark to
the present company, I hope," remarked the lawyer,
facetiously inclined.




236            GREEN MOUINTAIN
No attention was paid to the remark, and the Quaker went on-" "I think I've discharged my duty.
We were up pretty late last night. By the way, too,
here's another gentleman. If you wish further entertainmenrt, he is prepared, no doubt. I mo --
"None of your motioning," the lawyer put in,
promptly. " You're not going to fool us thus. Don't
you know, my esteemed friend, that your story's only
half done  You have lived thus far in vain, if von
suppose we'll let you off this side of eternity without
t'other half. I'll leave it to the rest of the comnpany."  We assented to the lawyer's remark. After
which the bald-headed man observed, there being
silence,  "I think it's very interestin'."
"You do? Indeed!" responded the Quaker, smiling; and we all smiled; for the bald-headed was very
earnest in his manner.  There' was more silence.
" iy the by," said the lawyer, " before you begin
again-you've got to begin, sir!-I want to indulge
in something personal. Why is it you don't say thee
and thou, being a Quaker?"
"When among Romans, be a Roman."'6 That's all, is it?"
The Quaker bowed assent, saying,'"When I am




TRAVELTLERS' ET iERT AI~TTM.ENT.  237
away from home I never indulge in things calculated
to reveal the social and religious relations in which I
have been reared-except as my dress may betokenthem."  This satisfied the lawyer, and he was apparently about to express his satisfaction, when the
Quaker interrupted, asking-" HIave I-to return the
same coin-have I guessed right ii guessing-my
Yankee friends will excuse my play upon their favorite word-that you have left the sea, and now practice law?"
"True as the world!" responded the other with
some surprise.  "There is some shrewdness left. I
am, sir, an humble aspirant to forensic distinction, I
am happy to say. But these things are foreign to
the case. I suppose now as I've obliged you with a
direct answer to a leading question, you will not
object to directly taking up the thread of your discourse, ehl? Gentlemen,' I perceive it in his eyeListen.




238           Gc3EFNr MlOUNTMAIN
CHAPTER VII.
OBEDIENT to the lawyer's injunction, we listened.
I am sorry-so the Quaker resumed, first address.
ing the lawyer —that you find it in your heart to be
so exacting.  I hope you will have occasion to
repent. I fear you will. Your abettors, too. Gentlemen, I mean no disrespect; —that man knoweth
not what he doth. But to your general selfishness
represented in him, I malke no appeal; only remarking, that I began with no determined end, but that
I begin now, with such end full in view, and you
must accompany me to it. If it prove a punishment,
it will be no more nor less than you deserve. So
much; and you may call it preface.
Now, let's see, where did I leave my young self.?
In great bliss I remember. Yes, at the gate, in a
rapturous aberrance, from which he directly recovered sufficiently to mount the carriage and drive
home. A sweet, tumultuous overflow of sentiment




TRAVTELLERS' ENTERTAINMENT.   239
visited me that night, happifying and beautifying the
vista of the future-before I slept, most beamingly —
afterwards in gorgeous flashes that thrilled me as one
entranced is thrilled with visions of heaven. Adored
Fanny! could she but know what that tremulous
response had done for me! This was the fervent
wish of my heart when I awoke, or rather came out
of physical sleep. I did not awake. No; though
the dream was troubled, sorely troubled, as with
fiends dire and remorseless, I did not awake. I have
not awaked; ay, I dream still on that very subject,
though I must confess the dream has for many long
years seemed marvellously like reality. Pardon this
anticipatin g-this weaving ahead of the main cloth,
to use a metaphor.  I am no ingenious fictionist.
This is my excuse.
I have now a new character to bring before you;
and I approach him in the bright field-beyond the
intervening shadows.-as I would approach a serpent.
Samuel Toom.  Old Abel's only child.  The boy
whom Joshua saved from drowning. A handsome
boy in shape he was-symmetrically built and easy
of movement.  To see him at a little distance,
walking, one could not help exclaiming at his singu.




240            GREEN MOUNTAIN
larly graceful carriage, and a stranger would have
approached him sure of being pleased. Nor would
the contemplator have been undeceived until he
came to' look closely upon his countenance. There
the devil within him ever dwelt, sleepily coiledlike an adder.  Sleepily coiled, yet within ever
nerved to the most deadly precision. I do not speak
now as I felt then. I had then a dim eye towards
human faces-a charitable way of considering human
Iactions.
This Samuel Toom had been at one short time
during my earlier boyhood an intimate; and notwithstanding Joshua's disparaging remarks, I retained
an affection for him up to the time of which I shall
soon speak.' IIis father being poor, Samuel had
been obliged early in life to shift for himself; and he
had shifted so nmuch to his advantage that he had at
the age of fourteen obtained a situation in a drygoods store in Harrisburg, nearly seventy miles from
his old home —working his way there unaided,
except by his own ingenuity and craft.  He was
about a year older than I, and was therefore at this
time in his seventeenth year-just Fanny's age.
I was surprised to meet him at the pic-nic. HIe




TRA VELLERS i ENTER'TAINM.tENT  241
told me after our greeting, which was cordial on my
part, that he had returned the week before, and
would remain a couple of months —   to," he said
whisperingly in my ear, "spark the country gals,
you know,-among other things of less importance,"
he added aloud.  I inhaled his breath.  It was
strong with brandy.
" Thy breath smells bad," said I reprovingly.
"Only a little for the awcasion, you know," he
answered with a kind of snorting smirk, and left me,
mingling again with the company.  From  that
moment I began to distrust him.
The next evening after the pic-nic Fanny was at
our house a little while. While there, she stayed in
the sitting-room, and talked in a lively manner with
my mother and Cynthia about one thing and another,
among the rest mentioning the fact, that her parents
had determined to send her to Harrisburg to attend
school a year. The announcement startled me, who
was listening in rapt attention, into asking her when
she intended to go.  My voice trembled some, at
which my sister smiled, but Fanny was sober, and
there was a marked sadness in her tone when she
answered, that the intention was to have her go
thatthe n11




242            GREEN MOUNTAIN
about the first of November.'What! so soon as
that!" exclaimed Cynthia, and she, too, was sober.
Nothing more was said about it.
That night a comforting determination took possession of me. I would visit Fanny. She was going away,
and therefore it could not be improper nor harmful.
The recollection of the sweet response, too, confirmed
me. Yet I would not be precipitous. Two months
must elapse before her departure. I would wait
awhile; but I would certainly go-once at any
rate.
It was a happy resolution, and in the morning I
found myself deepened in it, I at once chose the day
upon which I would make the call, and my mind settled down fixedly upon it.
The intervening time was much longer in passing
than my imagination had taught me to believe it
would be, but the day came at last, and, after elaborate adjustments at the toilet, I sallied forth, without
informing any one of my destination. I found Fanny
at home, body and soul. She received -me cordially,
without any appearance! of surprise, and behaved
towards me something after a sisterly fashion, talking
and laughing with exceeding liveliness-too much




TRAVELLERS' ENTERTAINMENT.     243
animation, I thought, to be altogether pleasing. She
took me into the garden, and showed me her Autumnflowers, some of which were fading. One was drooping-the stalk being fractured-and she stooped over it,
caressing and propping it. She spoke tenderly of it,
and of its being a flower such as Seraph used to love.
After that, while I stayed, she was as I wanted her to
be. Her voice was plaintive; and just before I
went away, she spoke of her anticipated departure,
shedding tears.
It was a pleasant interview, all in all, and brought
me to another determination, namely, to visit her
again, though she had nriot requested it. That she had
not was an inadvertence to me-by a convenient
sophistry made to appear —and did not take form as
objection to my going again. Precisely two weeks —
two weeks was the interval before, dating from my
first resolve-and I would repeat the visit. So regular we are before the race becomes desperate!
Two weeks. As a kind of disagreeable necessity
they passed-at length, being in a manner insupportably dry and uninteresting, except a little ogling-the
first-on one of the intervening Sabbaths. A sweet,
delicate taste it was, like honey distilled. Oh, that




244            GREEN MOUNTAIN
such dews would lull the craving! Then might love
abide and be always sweet.
The promised evening came, and equipped in my
best, I made the promised visit. With tremendous
thumpings of heart, which sounded to me much louder
than the bashful knock that I laid upon the door,
I stood expectant. She met me all smiles, and overflowing with cheerful remarks —very cordial she was,
and polite. I did not like it. There seemed a frost
in it. But she was less lively after a little, and
brought me a book of hers to read-conversation
having flagged. A favorite she said, and pointed out
several passages, turning over the leaves, while I held
the book, with her pretty fingers-there was nothing
frosty in that. When she had pointed out the passages, she went away to the window, looking out,
while I made a feint of reading. As I was turning
over the leaves something fell out of the book upon
the floor. I did not pick it up at first; and when I
did, in a fit of absence, I plout it in my pocket.
I did not stay so long this time as before, but left in
a charmied state, determined, even previous to taking
leave, that I would come again. Two weeks more.
That was to be my last visit, I resolved, and hoped to




TPAVELLERS' ENTERTAINMENT.     245
be able to keep my resolve. But I did not make the
visit. The cause will appear.
On the evening fixed, I prepared my exterior with
care, as usual, and was about starting, when a succession
of trifles sprang up, which so hindered me that I did
not start until nearly dark. As I was hurrying along,
my mind filled with the honeyed vapor of my anticipations, I was brought to a sudden halt, by hearing a
groan, as of one in distress. I immiediately saw the
source of it-S. Toom. " Samuel what ails thee'?" I
inquired with solicitude.
"Deacon, is that you?  By the Lord, but I'm
glad."  He was sitting by the road-side, cherishing
one of his feet, from which the boot was removed.
"What ails thy foot?" I inquired further, guessing
that to be'the seat of his distress.
" Foot?" he responded, " I have a story to tell you.
I hope you'll befriend me, eh? I know you will:
you're the likeliest young man in this town, and the
best friend I've got, too. Well, I was down to the
river to-day, on a stroll, and I felt something crawling in my boot. Directly I sits down on the bank —T,was right along there where it's steep, you know.
Off comes boot. Nothing in that. Crawl, crawl, in




246            GREEN MOUNTAIN
my stocking. I pulls at the stocking like Satan,scart a little, you understand. I jerked. Mly stocking came off unexpectedlly, and my hand hit the
boot-and, by the poker! knocked the thing right off
into the river, and away it went. Now the fact is,
I've been trying to get home without it, and I'm
about dead. BSMy foot-lord! it seems like a blister.
Deacon, the fact is, I've got to ask a favor of you,
now you're here.'.
I begged him to name it without reserve-I was in
a hurry; but that I did not mention.'I know it's
an ungraceful request. But I'll be bound to you all
my life if you'll accede. The fact is, I want one of
your boots for about a half hour or so, till I can cut
home and back again. Now do."  I had a dim eye
towards human faces, and it was dark, too. I let him
have my boot.
Half-an hour! I could bear the sacrifice to do an
act of kindness. He had incidentally promised to
come back there with the boot, and so I sat down
whence he had arisen, and waited. It was nearly
opposite the gate, and in full view of the parlor windows.  Not long after the gentleman had disappeared, and while I was looking and longing, the




TRPLVELLERS' ENTERTAINMENT.     24A
parlor was suddenly lighted, and the shutters to one
of the windows thrown open. I could see in quite
distinctly. I saw Fanny, waiting for me, not very
impatiently, I guessed, for I heard her laugh aloud,
and strike off into a lively remark of some sort-I
could almost hear the words —I tried to hear them,
be assured, holding my breath.  A  change took
place in the lights, so that I saw in more distinctly,
and I saw-I wiped my eyes, and saw standing by
the centre-table, a young man. It was no illusion,
though I had at first a disposition to make it so.
Who was it? Who wac it? I could almost say for
a certainty. I arose to my feet unconsciously, looking-not looking so much as piercing with my eyes;
but the distance-jealoLus distance! —it forbade. I
walked across the street: when I reached the fence,
I looked again, but he was not to be seen. Fanny
had taken a seat by the window, resting her elbow
on the sill. There was a masculine arm and hand
resting on the same sill. My physical vision of these
facts was dim, but my mental-how vivid! Could I
have known just then to whom that reposing armi
and hand belonged, it might have given me a kind
of hangman's relief. But that was not vouchsafed.




248             GREEN MOUNTAIN
I returned to the opposite fence and waited. A
half-an hour I knew it was, and yet no boot. A
passing suspicion had been in my mind. It came
again, passing quickly, however, because I would not
have it so. The moon was rising above the trees
very brightly. It shone upon that window brighter
and brighter.  I crossed the street again. I had
almost ceased to expect my boot that night, and that
suspicion was wrestling sorely with my incredulity.
The forms were gone from the window. Directly, I
heard voices in the garden-the garden was by the
street, a few yards from where I stood. I crept
along the fence-crept slower and slower, and lowlier, listening.  It was. Fanny talking about the
moonlight. I heard her words, but I paid little
attention to them. I was searching for a greater
fact; she ceased speaking, and immediately the fact
was developed: "'I cannot tell thee how much I
love it, too."  The self-same voice my boot was
begged with!-on a different key-floating with the
most winning modulation-but the same. It was as
a clap of thunder first, and then as martiail music to
me. My blood boiled with unutterable rage. It
was genuine wrath seven times heated; and it grew




TRAVELLERS' ENTERTAINMIENT.   249
hotter with every pulsation of my furious heart.
But in the midst of it there was conscience-kind
monitor!  The Alliseeing only knows what the
"still, small voice" saved the demon Samuel, that
night, perhaps his life. He had trifled with my
heart's best impulses, and he was trifling with its
sweetest. Conscience! But for that I would have
torn him. Yet my mother had not sought to inculeate the spirit of the words, " Turn the other cheek,
also," in vain. The general remembrance calmed
me like the voice of an angel, and I walked homeward-what need had I longer to stay? pervaded
with a sense of something like a triumph. Yet it
was to some degree illusive. One strong sentiment
had displaced another, and when the reaction came,
which was soon, I was thrown into a condition-new
then-since more familiar. I was jealous; and all
the pangs of that helpless state were mine. I ceased
to reflect upon the wrong Samuel had done me, and
thought, with a most turbulent incongruity and
unreasonableness of feeling, only of Fanny. I do
not remember now how I made out the case. But 1
found plenty of aliment for the new condition, and
could not go to sleep even after I heard the clock
11*




!z50            GREEN MOUNTAIN
toll the hour of midnight, and I tried to sleep. The
lively laugh, the juxtaposition of the two arms and
hands on the window-sill, the pathetic apostrophe to
the moonlight, I could recall it clearly-they were in
my mind as memories of events vitally important.
They multiplied, and their offspring were more
hideous than they. I was tortured, but at last fell
asleep.
In the morning, as I was hanging up my fine vest,
I saw something white, sticking out of one of the
pockets. I plucked it forth. It was a card. There
was writing on it:-" Dear Frances,   *    *    *
your devoted friend, S. Toom." I looked at it more
narrowly. It could not be so bad as that. No; it
was only an invitation to attend a pic-nic, the pic-nic
of six weeks previous, I saw by the date.  The
date-it was one day after that of my note to her.
Ay, I saw another fact-two of them. She had,
before receiving this card, pledged herself to nwe,
otherwise  -, and she had slipped this card into my
pocket that I might know, and that I might no
further interfere. Why, it was as plain as-as-I
wanted it to be. "Fear not," said I, addressing a
profile view of her in my imagination, " I pity thee'




TRAVELLERS, ENTERTAINMENT.    251
but I will not disturb thy short-lived happiness," and
in a resigned mood I went down to breakfast.
The next evening but one, I was sitting on the
front-door step by myself. The sky was overcast,
and the dismal autumn-wind howled and moaned in
the forest. and whistled mysteriously about the old
house. The wind was not cold, but especially sad in
its tone, whether from wandering far among bare
boughs and withered leaves and dry stalks that had
once borne flowers, I know not, perhaps-and perhaps
a deeper cause-a cause which man would not bear
to know in this rudimental state of being-made it so
sad. It matters, however, only to know that its wild
voice led my soul resistlessly as it had been passionate music. I was very wretched, yet had a kind of
glory in my wretchedness. My scope of thought and
fancy was not broad, however; and I was buffetted
with repetitions which, as they were familiar, had no
alleviation. I was getting into deep despondencyalmost to tears, when, hearing a slight rustling sound
in the direction of the street, I looked up, just in
time to see my honest, ill-used boot come swooping
over the front fence straight towards me. End over
end it came, descending, and, striking flat on the




252             GREEN MOUNTAIN
paved path, slid up to my very feet, the leg thereof
lopping towards me like a clumsy bow. It was
nearly dark, yet I could see, as I picked up the boot,
a roughly sketched figure on the face of it-a representation of a thumb, a nose, and flngers to correspond. I took the idea. It stabbed me as though it
had been a poniard, driven by the same remorseless
hand. It was the last, unkindest cut, mangling,
annihilating cut. It bewildered me. I could not
think of it. I could think of nothing. I went up to
my bed, and essayed to lose my. woes in sleep. I
tried in vain. I could not go to sleep. On the contrary I went wide awake, my mind jerked here and
there like a piece of bread in a nest of ants. I tossed
until I was tired, and then lay still till I was tired.
I tossed again, and lay still again, with the same
result. There was something wanting that would
have made me calm, or something existing within me,
originating in myself, which some action of mine
could have removed, that made me so restless. The
gratuitous cruelty which had been inflicted upon me,
could not alone have done it. I felt this fact dimly,
as one asleep feels external things-then more dis
tinctly, awakening. Perhaps my suspicion regarding




TRA VELLEITS!   NTEUT'AINMENT.  253
Fanny was unfounded. A recollection flashed upon
me. That cardc I had rput in my own pocket. It fell
from her book. Shameful, shameful, that I should
ever have thought it. Fanny was just as lively in
her bearing towards me, as I had seen her that night
towards Samuel. It was her habit. Sam would not
have taken such pains to impose upon me, had he
been sure of his prize. Thus a new view dawned
upon my judgment, and I saw why I was so restless.
I had wronged Fanny; yet only in my heart. I grew
calm speedily, and was soon asleep.
In the morning I awoke in the same calm state of
mind in which I had fallen asleep. I remembered
Samuel's unmannerly deed; but reflected coolly upon
it; for I had assurance that it was a dastardly act,
which would come out at his cost.
The day of Fanny's departure came. I had been
once in the meantime to see her; but had not found
her at home. The friendly, and slightly regretful
allusion she had made to it a day or two after at oar
house, where she had called a few minutes, I dared
to conjecture, chiefly to express her regret, atoned
fully for the disappointment, and I meditated Upoon
her anticipated departure with uniningled sorrow.




254            GRErEN MOUNTAIN
Tile day camne. My sister and I were there. Few
words were spoken. Her father, mother and brother
were to accompany her; so she had only to bid farewell to Cynthia and me. As we all stood at the gate
-the carriage being in readiness, and she but a
minute to stay-she took us both at once by the
hand, and touching her lips to Cynthia's, said,, with
deep earnestness.
" I do not like to leave you. I know I shall find
no friends so good. Do thou write to me Cynthia —
often. Good-by!"
We made no response. Cynthia was Weeping, and
I was little short of it.
"Good-by!" she said again, after mounting the
carriage. W~e gave back the word mechanically, and
turned away to our home very sorrowful.
For a few clays I was very sad. But I gradually
got the better of it, though visited with occasional
pangs from the consciousness that Samuel would be
near her, he having returned to Harrisburg a few
days before she went.
I resumed my attendance at the village school, and
in the pursuit of my studies lost sight, in a measure,
of my social afflictions. The days passed pleasantly.




TR AVELLERS' ENTERTAINMENT.    255
and the nights —with exceptions. I was cheerful
and hopeful.
Some time about midwinter, one evening, as I was
sitting with the family, my mother interrupted the
silence, addressing my father-" Ahasuerus, hast thou
thought on that matter?"
" Yes, yes," responded my father, testily.
"Well," said my mother, and there was silence
again.
My curiosity was awakened, and I waited for something further. Presently, after much fumbling in and
about his pockets, my father went to the bureau and
brought a letter. "From Joshua," whispered Cynthia to me.
" Deacon," said my father, seating himself, " what
does thee think about it?"  I did not know what he
meant, and told him so. " Read the letter to him,"
said my mother.  MIy father, thereupon, read itslowly through his spectacles —until he came to the
last page. I could see nothing especial in it, and I
remarked to that effect, interrupting my father.
"Wait, my son," observed my mother, significantly.
"Your son, Ahasuerus the younger," read my
father;' a word or so or more about him. I like the




256             GRFEN MIOUNTAINl
boy, and it has occurred to me that he is not altogether contented with his present prospects for the
future. I want to see the lad brought out, and properly harnessed for the battle. Now I have to propose, in so many words, that the boy come here and
study medicine with me."
"That's it," remarked my father.   Now, what
does thee think of it?"
I had but one thought of it. " Of course, I'll go,'
said. I.
"Thou must think seriously on it, my son,"
enjoined my mother. "It is for life."  So I knew,
and it strengthened my sudden resolve.  "I'll go,"
said I again. " I don't see as there's anything more
to be said about it, then," observed my father, appealing to my mother. "Nothing now," she replied
soberly.
Glorious, new future to me! The old was cast off
as filthy rags, and in the warmth of my imagination,
I longed to start upon the new path —even that
nlight.
In a few days the matter was, after various earnest
consultations, arranged.  It was determined that I
should remain at school until it should close; and




TRAVELLERS'' EN'TERTANMENT.  257
thereafter immediately go to Harrisburg to com
mence my medical studies.
The winter wore away. The spring came. The
school closed, and I set about preparing for departure. It was a grievous trial for my parents and
Cynthia to part with me, and there was much weeping and heaviness of heart on the morning that I
went away. Delia was there with her child, a
healthful, lively little creature, who called me by the
same nick-name —because it couldn't pronounce the
whole name-by which Seraph used to call me.
They all gathered around me at the old gate, all feeling very sad-all except father and little Isaac, the
baby. They were exceptions, because father was
going with me, and little Isaac wouldn't be anything
else; and his lively example exercised considerable
counteracting influence, so that the actual moment of
parting was more cheerful than otherwise.
We walked over to the village-my father and Imy trunk having been sent earlier in the morning
by the hired-man. At tbe village we took stage, and
late in the night drove into the city of Harrisburg.
By pre-arrangement we stopped at the hotel where
Jcashua boarded, and in the morning, as we descended




258             GRE:EN M OUNTAIN
to breakfast, we met him in the lower hall. " Uneaxs
pectedly fortunate all through life;;"-thus he began,
before we saw him, his voice sounding like a farniliar
tune; then taking our hands, he inquired about our
condition of body and mnind, and about that of those
at home, coming to a dead stop when my father incidentally mentioned the infant Isaac, declaring, with
an excellent imitation of sudden physical debility,
that he muat have breakfast immediately, or perish
under the stroke.
At the table he so far recovered as to remark
that it had  become imperatively necessary for
him  to keep better note of thle passage of time.
" Why," said he, "it seems but yesterday, or the day
before, at most, that Delia was a handsome, promising female babe; and now you say a being actually
exists that calls her mother! It was bad enough to
have her married before I could realize the absence
of her short clothes. But now-you're a veracious
man, and have a boy, here, who bears an oath in his
countenance to confirm your statement. I must give
in, I suppose."'
After breakfast, he conducted us to his office,
-hicih I entered with a. fee!ing somrewhat akin to awe




TRAVELLERS' ENTERTAINMENT.      259
But that feeling passed off in a measure, soon —sufficiently to allow my entering into a survey of the
premises. While my father and Joshua were indclulging in some reminiscent observations, I went on with
my survey. Tle office comprised two rooms-the
fiont one being furnished with a set of plain chairs,
much worn —the more so, I thought then, shrewdly,
for having been so often occupied by nervous invalids; a round table, covered with green baize, worn
through in several places, particularly within elbowreach of the front edge; an old desk —very old-in
which were many-it seemed to me then innumerable
-phials, of every possible variety of shape and size;
a stove-but that was bran new, which fact I inferred
as much as anything from its having been spit upon
but twice-at least, had but two stains of tobacco
juice upon it; and last of all, a pile of books lying on
the round table. I noticed these last in order, and
went to them for a closer scrutiny. They were, or
purported to be, " Collections from the Old Masters."
Music, all music; not a word of printing as I could
see, except the title-pages. Two of them were ponderou  volumes-huge quartos, bound in thick sheep-skin.
Tb i others were smaller-contents arranged for tho




260             GREEN MOUNTAIN
voice.  In them  was something that at first sight
looked like printing; but I could make no sense of
it, so I concluded it was musical signs, and was about
expressing myself on the subject, when Joshua
remarked, parenthetically to what he was saying to
my father, " Careful, my boy.  Those books are the
apple of mine eye."  This embarrassed me so much
that I immediately gave up the investigation, and
took a seat, gathering assurance again by looking
into the back-room. That room was carpeted, and the
windows shaded with red curtains. It had a plain,
neat settee in it, and an interminable library-so my
impression was then-of books old and new, with
gilt-lettered titles, written titles, and no titles. Some
of them were not bound, some with one side-cover
on; some in cloth, some in paper, others in leatherheavy leather and fine leather, polished. Some very
large and thick, some large and thin, some small and
worn as with much handling. Immense the numlberseemed. If I had been required to guess it, I presume I should have said ten thousand, feeling safe;
though in fact there were not more than three hundred. As I looked I became interested, for that was
the pile in whose labyrinths I was to wander for the




TRAVELLERS' ENTERTAINMENT.    261
next half a dozen years. I went into the room to
take a narrower look. My former ideas were only
magnified. I became bewildered directly, and tired,
and was glad to retreat from the solid, august array.
I retreated, back foremost, stumbling over a chair as
I re-entered the front room, which mishap aroused
Joshua and my father, who were deep down in some
well, groping for reluctant facts that had once been
living truths to them-aroused them. very much, and
they both stretched and yawned into a full realization of the present. "The time, Joshua'" asked my
father.
"The time "-began Joshua, musingly. "Oh, the
time of day?" he continued, drawing forth his watch,
and suppressing a laugh at his misapprehension.
"Why, you've been here about an hour." He then
stated the hour, whereupon my father jumped tip as
though- casting off a burden, or by the motioni was
extracting one of his teeth, and declared he must be
at the hotel in half an hour, that he might not be left
behind. Joshua apprehended him at first, with some
real difficulty, and afterwards with much sham. And
when the idea that my father was to return home that
day, was fully developed in his mind, he beset him in




262             GREEN MOUNTAIN
the most vigorous manner, to treat the intention, as
1he did, with unmeasured contempt. But my father
was inflexible, and we all went back to the hotel.
Just before the stage drove up, my father took
Joshua one side, and talked in a low,: serious voice to
him. I could see their faces; and I saw that Joshua
took what was said with calm, serious assent, and that
my father was singularly earnest. I guessed the
theme, though I could not distinguish a word, and I
felt a kind of glory in having two such protectors
in this world.
Soon the stage drove up, and my father, taking my
hand, said very mechanically, with his voice pitched
on an unusual key, "Good-by!" It was all lie said;
and I'm inclined to think all he could say, and maintain his dignity. Ite did not look at me any more, but
took his seat stiffly, and passed away from our presence, gazing steadfastly into the fore-interior of the
stage.
Home had so far seemed connected with me; but
now that connection was severed-the cord was winding up away fiomn me, and I felt for ihe moment
quite alone. A great sigh was preparing to escape
me, when was I brought to a healthful and proper




TRAVELLERS ETERTENTERTAINMENT.  263
sense of my real position, by Joshua taking me by
the arm, and leading me off with mock severity,
towards his office.
" I hope," said he, keeping up the joke, as he weni
along, " that your behavior will be such, that extremities will not have to be resorted to. Be calm, sir
and in due time you will be released, a better and a
wiser man."
When we reached the office, he changed his tone,
saying, " Deacon, for a day or two, wander and sip,
and get so you can look around without staring.
Then I'll begin with you-yea, I will put you upon
the tread-wheel; but you shall have oats, and a prospect of meadows green, where streams perennial flow,
and where sweet wild oats grow, you know."
I made a remark, embodying my impressions of
the place, to which he responded, "Just so. 5MVay
you always be happy, bedewed, and refreshed for ever
in this world of woe!-By the way, Deacon, I must
go out professionally. Tell any one who enters the
premises, that you can't do anything for them; and
that Doctor Noyles is gone out." So saying, he left
me alone, to amuse myself till noon.
What do you suppose I thought of, the very first




264            GREEN MOUNTAIN
thing after Joshua went out, and the room was silent.
Just this:-Fanny Cline. I thought of her, and I
thought not seriously of anything else all the time
Joshua was gone —more than two hours. I thought
warm thoughts, and cool thoughts-warm thoughts
of her, of her, living, adorable angel! and cool
thoughts of a plan by which I would gain an interview with her. [Nothing came of it, however, but a
nervous head-ache, which lasted, getting severer
towards night, until I fell asleep-late in the evening.
The next morning I kept such thoughts out of my
mind by special edict of the will, and commenced
seriously to reconnoitre the awful library. But before
the close of the day-it was near the close-when I
thought I had done all that an attempt required;
I took a seat facing one of the windows in the back
room, which window opened towards the west, and I
became enthralled again, as I had been the day before.
The window was up, and the curtain, and I watched
the great, red sun, as it went calmly down, not thinking about it, but about what it suggested. The same
sun, looking nearly the same, had gone down another
season, shining in my face, while my ear drank the
pathetic melody of that mild voice so thrillingly




TRAVELLERS' ENrlERTAINMENT.   265
sweet-then. When the sun was down, there was a
soft flush of living twilight.  And I made it still
more alive, for I was so fanciful as to weave a bright
angelic form there, in the midst of it. But it was
a fleeting form, only suggesting thoughts that made
me indifferent to the twilight. A lively train. She
is in the same city with me, and we are away from
home-so the train moved. She is sitting perhaps at
this moment, at the western window of her room —
her own private room, thinking.  Thinking! oh,
that I were there, to help her think-to talk with her
-about home. Oh, I would not talk with her about
anything else. Only about home. Perhaps about
the pic-nic, as being legitimately connected with it.
Perhaps about the evening that followed. No; I
would not allude to that. She might, if she wished.
I hope she will. The morning in the spring, too,
when thou arid Cynthia came out into the field where
I was. That was home. We will talk about that,
sweet Fanny. Hold! ahem! It was of no use. I
had been talking aloud-two or three sentences. Is
it possible any one?   -   There was Joshua's face,
resting against the door-casing, looking solemnly
at me.




266             GRIE';LJN MOUN~TAIN
" My dear boy," said he, with much feeling, instead
of laughing, as I anticipatecl, "I beg your pardon
sincerely. Some day you may know why I stood.
here and listened. Not now."  He came in, and put
his arm around me as a tender father would around a
son younger than I was, and said, in a livelier tone,
"Deacon, the world looks bright to you now, don't
it?"  Overcome with embarrassment at the disclosure I had made, I replied "yes," without meaning
it.  Whereupon, he patted my shoulder, saying,' To-morrow it won't look so bright; for I'm going
to begin to endow you with my mantle of wisdom,
with the help of Providence, and these books here."
Thus the subject was entirely changed. And it continued changed; for directly afterwards, a crony of
Joshua's came in, and they sat down, spending the
evening after a manner which did not afford opportunity for quiet —or much other —thought. This crony
was afflicted in like manner with Joshua, namely,
taking an overwhelming pleasure in music, accompa.
nied with the bald  illusion that he could make it.
The evening was spent dreadfully, if we may attach
any sacredness to the splendid creations of the " Old
Masters," and tired  at beholding the conflict, I




TRAVELLERS' ENTERTAINMENT.     s67
slipped off, while the stimulated actors were execute
ing a flanking measure to save themselves in the
hei ghts of a solo, and went away to my bed anticipating a renewal of the twilight reflections; but I
suddenly and unexpectedly fell asleep.
Tile following morning my studies were commenced in earnest, and with them commenced a new
and deep interest, which to this day has never ceased.
But that interest, deep and lively as it was, and daily
increasing, did not engross me. At quiet closes of
day, and sometimes at other quiet hours when I was
alone in the office, thoughts that were not of science,
hopes that were not of distinction, gave light and life
to my inner soul. And the more they came, the
more fhey glowed, and the more I longed to see with
my bodily vision the object of them.
One evening —Sunday evening-I think it was tho
fourth Sunday of my sojourn-the mood was strong
upon me; and in three minutes from the time the
plan commenced, it was formed, and the day appointed upon which I would go and see her-Fanny.
The principal part of the plan was to inform Joshua
of my intention, and ask his advice. This was done
modestly in the dark, as we were walking that same




268             GVEERN AMOUNTAIN
evening. I stated that she was an old friend of mine,
and that I wanted to see her very much, and so forth,
and so on-concealing the main fact as though he
didn't know it-and concluded with naming the day
I had conditionally appointed. The whole matter
was rather awkwardly and incoherently stated, and
he pretended not to understand, requesting me to
repeat, which I did; and in my anxiety to be
explicit, I got so near the true state of the case that I
told it bolt out, which I have no doubt was just what
he wanted, for he met my confession with another
embrace like the one of that second evening of my
stay, and tendered at once his entire services. He
had two or three patients, he said, in the institution,
and was well acquainted with the teachers. He
would go with nme, and give me an introduction.
Thus the matter was briefly arranged.
Friday-the day came, and we went together as
agreed. I was introduced first to the principal, a
bland, amiable-appearing man, and afterwards by him
to a manly-looking person in woman's clothes, who
wore spectacles over very severe, pale-blue eyes.
Fanny was under her immediate supervision, she
informed me, with very distinctly accented phraseo.




TRAVELLERS' ENTERTAINMENT.     269
logy, and through her, as a gate, I was admitted to
the ambrosial presence. I had seen the dear being
only in memory and inmagination for the past five or
six months, yet I knew her step before she entered
the room, andl I arose all aglow to greet her. But
the gate creaked.' Ahem!" significantly remarked
the manly-looking in woman's clothes. Fanny was
all aglow, too; but that " ahem.l" was magically
chilling in its effect. She came demurely up to me,
and just touched my fingers with hers, and then took
a seat on the opposite side of the room. A stiff
dialogue thereupon ensued relative to home, and
present prospects, lilkes and dislikes, intentions and so
forth, and thus a half an hour passed —to me as
something sweet, swallowed whole; and I went away
witlh a feeling of dissatisfaction, which I communicated to Joshua as we proceeded together towards
the office.
"All natural and inevitable," he observed, "but
it's no use to firet. aVait for a more propitious sky,
and other more propitious circumstances."  He
further remarked, that the school would be out early
in the summer, and left the subject for me to pursue.
it was a very consoling thought to me that a vaca




20O             GREEN MOUNTAIN
tion was so soon to ensue in Fanny's school, and I at
once embraced a plan of action. It was plain, I
reflected, that I could not visit her again as she was
then situated, with any satisfaction, consequently I
would defer all until the vacation. Then, before she
should return, I would gain the sweet opportunity.
To this end I immediately dispatched a billet by post,
signifying my desire. To my agreeable surprise, I
received an answer the day following, briefly granting my request. It was written evidently in great
haste-so I concluded by way of explanation of the
facts that the hand-writing only resembled hers, and
that two or three words were misspelled, a fault
which in all her long letters to Cynthia I had never
noticed. But I was too happy in my success to
reflect nicely upon these things, and accordingly pult
the billet away, gratefully settling down upon the
promised joy.
Six weeks were to elapse before vacation would
commence, and to the consumption, by the inch, of
the long dreary interval, I addressed.myself. Yet it
was not so dreary when I got fairly at it, and four of
the six weeks were soon past. I specify thus, for at
the end of those four weeks, an event happened.




.TR.A VEAlLEPRSC ENTERTAINMENT.  271
Since my arrival in lIarrisburg, I had not seen
S. Toom? though I had thought of him-and that not
tenderly-often.  Neither did I want to see him.
But it was otherwise ordered. I was sitting one
morning in the office-door, pleasantly reflecting upon
the fact, that two-thirds of the hindrance to the
anticipated interview were removed, when'"Good
morning, Doctor   uninn startled me like a hiss. I
looked up savagely, and there he stood, most deferentially, with his hat off.'"Worthy disciple of
Esculapius, how do you do this morning?" he continued, perceiving I was not likely to return his
salutation. I said nothing, and looked perseveringly
away from him. But he was far from being bluffed.
He ran on to considerable length in a very lively,
desultory discourse upon the medical practice, old
times, future times, present times, and local matters,
and coming to an emphatic conclusion by asking me
what were the latest advices from the Cline family.
Boiling with wrath, I only looked fiercely in his face.
"They say Fannyis in the city at school," he continued,
his sleepy, serpent eyes nearly closed.'Demned
squash-head of a girl, I think, eh? Time thrown away
schooling- her."  I knew this was meant to insult me,




272            OG;EXlIN MO)UNTAIN
and I resented it by leaving him, and going into the
back-room.' Well, Doctor," I heard him say, standing at the door, "I suppose thou wouldst not take
a little something to drink this morning-a little
cold water toddy?" It was too much. Grasping a
pestle, I rushed out, angry, even to the sledding of
blood. But he was gone. I was yet rushing towards
the door, when Joshua presented himself, having just
returned from a professional call.  L Ay! ay! what's
this," he began.  " Sam Toom, the wretch!" I foamingly ejaculated. "Ah," he responded, becoming
very gloomy in an instant, and said nothing more.
" What shall I do?" I cried, seeing that I could take
no revenge. "  ill him. Kill him," replied Joshua,
the veins standing out like cords on his forehead.
The next moment he remarked, " I didn't mean that,
Deacon. Don't shed blood."
I was greatly agitated, and it was several hours
before I regained my mental equilibrium.
Such was the event; and it prepared me to appreciate what followed.
The promised day came.  It was Monday-the
school having closed on Saturday. At the appointed
hour-three in the afternoon -I went.  I passed




TRA VELIE RS' ENTERTAINMENT.  273
through the same process that I had before, only that
I introduced mzyseef to the bland principal, who introduced me to the manly-loolking with spectacles.
"Sir?" said she when I inquired for Fanny. I
repeated. "Frances is no longer under my immnediate supervisions" she informed me with admirable
accentuation. That I kneqv; but perhaps she could
tell me where Fanny was, that I might see her. " Sir?"
What a voice of thunder! I repeated more explicitly
and emphatically. Worse than ten thousand thunders
was that voice to me, when she said-" Frances is
gone out to walk with an old acquaintance of hers.
Toom I think was the name by which he was introduced to me. She will be in towards evening.
Please to call again."  In other words-please to
clear out. So I took her request, at least, and went
away, away from  the house, from  the heavenly
dream that had so long made me happy —away down,
down. Oh, the blackness of darkness! the worse
than sulphureous depths into which I was plunged!
It would be but mockery to attempt a description.
of my feelings during the rest of that afternoon and
evening-all that night, in fact, for I did not sleep,
Jealousy and hate in all their burning fury, tore me
12*




274            GREEEN MOUNTAIN
as vultures would have torn. At one moment Fanny
would appear to me a ruined creature, fascinated by
the remorseless serpent.-The next moment she would
appear a deceitfiul hag, hateful beyond expression.
Toom1-I could not think of him —it was too frenzying.
It was a dreadful tumult all through the long,
night; and in the morning I showed traces of it
too plainly to attempt concealment. I told Joshua
about it —keeping nothing back. His only reply was'"Wait. Let time prove."  But that was a branch
of practical philosophy which I had not then come
to; accordingly I settled my mind at once, or tried
to,-coming after several hours reflection, to the conclusion, that Fanny was the one to blame-that she
had maliciously deceived and wronged me. And
with this conclusion, I settled down quite stolidly,
feasting upon my -future revenge, which was to commence with a full disclosure to Cynthia, accompanied
with appropriate reflections-intended, you know, for
Fanny's perusal, as she would be at home.
Having thus settled my plan, I was prepared to
dismiss the subject, which was not easily done-was
not done at all, in fact.' I directly found that wher
not actively employed at something else pleasingly




TRAVELLERS' ENTERlTAINMENT.    275
interesting, my mind would recur in spite of me to
the unhappy event.  Neither would my thirst fim
vengeance allow me to rest. The scathing epistle
was elaborately inscribed with lmany tremendous
gushlies of feeling indicated by gnasbings of teeth and
smitings with the clenched hand. Some very bitter
sentences were penned, and- underscored with three
and some with four lines; and all, being duly complete, was sent.
After this fiery transaction I was more at rest, yet
had a secret panting for an answer. I was sure of
getting one. I was sure Cynthia would sympathize
with me, and hasten to make it known. I waited,
waited. No letter came for a long time. I received
one from my mother first,-then some time after-in
all more than four weeks from the sending of mineone from Cynthia, in which not the slightest allusion
was made to the interesting theme.  She'stated
casually that my o7d friend Fanny was in feeble
health, and would not probably return to her school,
and stated in,postscript that S. Toom was at home,
dangerously sick.  She had received my letter, for
she acknowledged it. "Let'em die together, and
Cynthia with'em, confound her," said I, pinching




276~ GREEN MOUNTAIN
the innocent letter, and flapping it against the r(...A
table. I was alone in my misery. My own dear
sister was willing to sacrifice her only brother, and
encourage a deluded girl-so I viewed it just thento utter destruction. Who was ever so unhappy as I
was then? Yet I had consolations. I took hold of
my studies vigorously, and they diverted me. I
leaned more on Joshua, though I didn't mention the
subject to him-and he diverted me. I learned to
laugh at the frequent musical catastrophes which
transpired in the office, and they diverted me
With all, I had after a few days only an hour or so
now and then, of dismal thoughts. Thus the summlle
passed slowly on, even to the end, and autumn corn
menced. In the meantime I had received severm
letters from home, from which I gathered two important facts: that Fanny, though well,' would no more
come back to school; and that Samuel had recovered
and left the place.
When the leaves began to fall, I took it into my
head to go home and make a visit. Joshua approved
of my intention, and I set out early one quiet
morning, and after a very pleasant journey, came,
just at dark, into- the old village. I was there joined




TRAVELLERS' ENTERTAINMENT.    277
by my father, and went, home to the old house. As
we came to the gate, my mother, Cynthia, andFanny, stood there to welcome me.  Fanny kept
back at first —ay, she remembered my letter, I
thought; but in the gush of joy which prevailed, I
left that out of mind, and greeted her cordially.
Her hand trembled as I held it, and her voice
trembled as she asked me, a minute afterwards,
gratuitously, if I was well. I had those things to
think of that night before I slept.
My visit was to be two weeks in length, and
I went at it systematically.  The weather was
pleasant, and when tired with conversation in the
house I wandered out, dreamily renewing the innumerable associations which sprang as echoes from
every haunt. I did not tire of these; but there was
a sense of dissatisfaction attending them, the source
of which I was several days finding out. Fanny
was, and yet was not, in everything. I knew it at
last, and then everything seemed to reproach me. I
remembered her manner the evening that I came
home. I remembered what I thought and how I felt
when I was in my room that night, and all was still.
I remembered these things one quiet, hazy after.




278             GREEIN MIOUNIrAIN
noon, sitting at the window  of Cynthia's room,
looking out towards Mr. Cline's house. I saw Fanny
sitting at the parlor window-at least I thought it
was she-and at once I had a strong impulse to go
and visit her. I was sure-very sure she wanted to
see me, and with a decision as sudden as the impulse
I determined to go.
It was a most beautiful afternoon, and I strove to
realize it more fully as I went along. I went slowly
through the gate, gathering internal composure by
gazing around in a general way, and sauntered up to
tie window. It was Fanny sitting there, and she
was alone. She requested me to walk in. But I preferred standing outside, so she leaned slightly out of
the window, and we talked there together quietly for
a while about nothing in particular. She was very
calml and earnest in her manner, and looked at my
lips and not at my eyes when I spoke. I noticed this,
and her earnestness as something unusual, and I
began to feel a dearth of items to talk about. A little fountain (pent) sprung loose in my heart. I heard
what she said-the sound of her voice-not much
more, for I was thinking-I could niot help thinking
-of the evening of the pic-nic. The tone of her




TRAVELLERS' ENTERTAINWMENT.  279
voice was the same as then-more tenderly melodious. That fountain gushed fresher and fuller in my
heart, and I felt more barren of items. I became
quite absent, and did not hear a question which she
casually asked me. "Ahasuerus!"  Oh, my name!
how sweetly spoken! The fountain was becoming a
tide. "Fanry!"7 I returned. "Come in, Ahasuerus," she said in the same tone; "thou must be tired
standinog
I was not tired, but I went in. She bade me be
seated on the settee, while she took the rocking-chair,
a little distance off.
"Didst thou not ask me something just before I
came in?" I inquired, feeling I must make some
remark.
" I don't mind, now," she replied, and for several
minutes nothing was said.
There was something painful on her mind —something that sought utterance, yet was vigorously kept
back.
" Why dost thou look so sad?" I inquired, pain.
fully moved, myself.
"Do not ask me," she replied. Then, after a few
moments, continued with a quivering voice, "I have
Auiffered.



280            GREEN MOUNTAIN
"On my" -— account, I was going to say, but I
swallowed it, feeling that I need not ask, for it was
so. Ay, I knew it. She was weeping.
"Dear Fanny!"
It was the first time, and I was startled at my rashness. But the tide had beconme an ocean, and bore
me resistlessly. I arose and approached her. " My
dear Fanny, thou hast suffered by my folly. I am a
fool, a detestable fool! I have been a fool all my
days, Fanny!"
"Don't talk so, Ahasuerus. Thou art not bad. I
am bad. But I can't help it."
I took a chair and sat down beside her-agitated
very much. I tried to say several things before 1 said
anything.  tFinally,-she had ceased weeping, and
was looking dreamily away out of the open window
-4 said, sighed, uttered some way-it was like jumping off a precipice into a bank of tinted cloudsyieldingly I gave it forth, casting all upon the flaming die, " Fanny, my angel!"-a sigh bore the rest"dost thou love me?"
Her hand was upon mine. She turned her face
gently towards mine.  I- bent towards her. She
leaned towards me. Our lips met-our souls met in
one long draught of frenzying sweetness.




TRAVELLERS ENTERTAINMENT.      281
Unexpectedly as this whole scene had developed
itself, I realized it fully in all its vital relations to me.
The long-coveted, long-dreamed of treasure was mine,
inine. I called her mine, holding her in my embrace
-we were then sitting on the sofa. "Yes, Ahasuerus, thine-for ever." How it thrilled me! that word
" for ever," spoken so earnestly, as she looked up into
my face-into my eyes, now-deep into my soule
We remained silent awhile. Suddenly a dark memory touched me as with shadowy fingers. Samuel.
I uttered the name almost involuntarily, so vivid was
the remembrance.
"Don't speak of him, he's bad-a bad young
man," she said. After a few moments she resumed,
"' He's unhappy, too. I will show thee something he
wrote to me last summer."  She arose and went into
another room, coming back soon with a letter in her
hand. She gave it to me, telling me to read and
then destroy it. She had only kept it for me. I
read it eagerly, trembling as I read, for I saw therein
more than ever the exceeding subtlety and power
he possessed. And I saw, too, that it was not all an
ingenious play of thoughts. There was true passion
in it —burning, deep, and that developed his mental




282            GREEN MOUNTAIN
resources-might develop them more i! I felt a chill
in my blood when I had finished the pei'isal, as
though I had been handling a serpent.
"Dost thou not think he is unhappy?" Fanny
inquired, when she saw I was done.
I could not say what I wanted to, so I made no
reply.
"' He has been bad to thee, I know," she remarked,
and there was something unpleasant to me in her
manner. I coolly asked, "How?" In reply she
entered upon a narration of the event which had
given me such poignant misery. Thus it was. She
had never received a note from me while at school.
Samuel had come there to the institution with a
young gentleman and lady of his acquaintance, and
begged her to go with him and them to see a floral
exhibition, not far off. She had accompanied them,
and so the unhappy incident had comu to pass.
<"Scoundrel!" I could not restrain myself from
saying.
"Yes, I know he is bad. We will not say anything more about him."
The sun was down, and the sky overcast thickly,
darkly, as I walked home that evening. With all




TRAVELLERS' ENTERTAINENT.      283
the sweet remembrance of the afternoon, I was not
happy.
The following week I returned to Harrisburg, and
resumed my studies, immeasurably more buoyant in
soul, more vigorous in intellect, than I had left them.
The future, how strangely altered from the dark and
doubtful to the glorious and certain! There was a
cloud, but it was a cloud on the horizon, and did
not obscure the day.
The moaning autumn found no echo in my heart,
nor did the blustering winter, that came on speedily,
congeal my high ardor.  My twilight hours mere
now consumed to a purpose. I committed my,gorgeous fancies, my burning thoughts, the voice of
my high hlopes, to paper; and as the frail bulk acncumulated, I sent it away from time to time, to the
object upon which they all centered. Responses
came, at intervals-far too long intervals in my
judgment-tender, precious responses, like  that
answer she gave when I bent towards her and she
leaned towards me, only angels witnessing.
Months passed on. The spring came; the summer
-a year went on its way. I again visited home,
staying there a montlh. I saw Fanny twice-had two




284             GREEN MOUNTAIN
long interviews with her. At the close of the second,
and just as I was leaving her, she gave me two
letters, bidding me, as she had at another time, to
read, and then destroy them. I read them a few
hours after, and with a kind of dread consigned them
to flames. They burnt as though alive, and their
very ashes, quivering upon the coals, appeared as
fiendish ghosts, vengeful at the destruction.  Such
passion as there was in those letters, so fiery in its
voice, so earnest, even in its subtlety,-it seemed in
burning them, I was burning the soul that had given
them  being.  Poor Samuel! He was unhappy.
What might that unhappiness, heightened into desIair, not do? I could not dwell upon it.
Again I was at my studies, rapidly progressing in
rudimentary acquirement. Another year passed.
The stilts of great boyhood were wearing off, and
I was getting to be a man. My beard-a shadow
cast before-made a modest deSbu't, attesting to my
having achieved my growth, as well as to the proximity of manhood; and my imagination, fired with
the indication, led me, as usual, prematurely into the
estate. But it did no harm. I was not of a disposition to take undue advantages of any position, real




TRAVELLERS' ENTERTAINMENT.    285
or supposed, and hence cherished my new-blown dignity rather in secret.
I had in fact grown much older when I visited
home this time; but I found the year had been quite
general in its effect. My father and mother looked
older, and Cynthia, too-a maiden still. Fanny was
not older, but riper, less girlish. It was during this
visit that I revealed to Cynthia the relation I sustained to Fanny-revealed it, and found it was an old
fact to her! This time, too, I talked more of practical affairs with my adored; speaking of the time
when she should be my wife, and we should go out
hand in hand to meet the rough world. Her reply
was like the first. What had words to do with it?
My studies were resumed again, and time passed
smoothly, swiftly.
You may wonder I did not again meet with Samuel. He was not in Harrisburg. Ie was in Boston
-had gone there the autumn after his illness, and up
to this time had not been back. So Cynthia had told
me at my last visit, and she had gathered her information from a conversation between old Abel and mly
father, which she had overheard. He had not written to Fanny during the year past, which I was more




286            GREEN - MOUNTAIN
happy to know, than I would have been willing to
acknowledge. The only cloud had gone out ofmylsky.
Time passed smoothly, swiftly.  Ailother year
came round. I did not make my annual visit, for at
the usual season I was particularly engaged, and
afterwards I thought I would wait till spring. I felt
the need of it less for having seen all our folks
at the city, whither they had come mainly to visit
Joshua, they said, and scold him for not having fulfilled his promise of coming out there. Joshua was
thunderstruck at the recollection of his promise; but
directly took refuge under the sophistry that he had
not promised to come in person, and he hoped they
had found no fault with his proxy —meaning me.
Yet he concluded finally with a direct pledge that
he would be with them for a season, about one
year from that time.
Spring came; but I did not go then. Joshua was
going in the autumn; I was very busy; six months
would finish my course, and then I could remain at
home half a year if I wished; a long absence would
only add sweetness to the meeting. Such were the
considerations which determined me not to' go. But
I repented me soon after; for early in the summer I




TRAVELLERS' ENTERTAINIMENT.    287
received a letter from Cynthia, stating, among other
facts of interest, that Samuel had been there, remaining more than three weeks, and had called twice on
Fanny; and to heighten the effect of this detestable
intelligence, I read about the same time a long letter
from. Fanny herself, in which I found no allusion to
Samuel nor his visits. I was wretchedly impatient.
ZBut the die was cast.
At last the appointed time arrived, and we-Joshua
and I-went. It was late in the season —almost winter; but we had a pleasant journey, rich in small
incident, turned to account. Joshua was in the best
of good humors all day; and the flow was only freshened on our coming to the old, familiar mansion.
Though it was past ten o'clock when we arrived, and
we called the inmates out of warm beds, there was
no lack of cordiality, and we all sat up, nor was bed
alluded to till nearly three in the morning.
I was not long in making my appearance before the
idol of my heart. It was the third day, and I was with
her several hours-blessed hours, without bitterness.
She told me about Samuel in such a way that I was
satisfied with her; but my old dread was no way
lessened. Ahl! no.




288             GREEN MOUNTAIN
I have thus hurried over several years of my lifeleaving out much that I would like to have told —in
order that I may dwell more minutely upon what followed. Bear with me awhile longer, and I will relate
it to you. I had been at home two weeks, perhaps a
lay or two more, when one afternoon, on returning:rom a short excursion by myself, I found the family,
pith Joshua, gathered around the sitting-room fire,
apparently in a close consultation, which I interrupted
oy my entrance.  Discovering that they would not
resume while I was present, I went out again. In
about an hour I returned and was immediately beset
by Joshua.
"Young Deacon Ahasuerus Munn, sir. In conclave it has been considered, in conclave it has been
decided; amen. Listen! The treasures of your native
land have been lavished upon you. The most distinguished and dishonored representative of the Science
to which you have devoted yourself-meaning the
speakaler-has exhausted his resourcesuponyou. Others
less dishonored, have been exhausted in rendering
assistance, and now it is finished. In view of these facts,
sir, it' has been decided in conclave that-now, Deacon, it is a serious matter, more serious than it will at




TRAVELLERS' ENTERTAINMENT.     289
first appear to you, and very serious to the rest of
us, and we have a secret hope you will not consent.
It is nothing more nor less than to have you go
to Europe, and see if you can learn something that
you would not be likely to learn here. I know you
are young; but if you wait till you are married, you
never will go, and so will end another hope of mine.
Now say yes, or no, or nothing, eh? 1How do you
like the idea?'"
To Europe! The idea was as unexpected as it was
overwhelming, and I laughed incredulously.
No forsaken babes were ever more sincere in their
vocal demands than we are in ours," said Joshua.
" Will you go, or not?"
" You press rather close," said I in reply. "You"
— I had fallen into a temporary habit of modern
address, being so much with Joshua-" had no need
of asking my consent to this thing. You might with
the utmost safety presupposed it."
"So I feared," observed Joshua. "And now let
us drop the subject for the present."
The first thing after getting accustomed to the
glorious idea, was to communicate it to Fanny, of
course. Before I did it, however, the time of departure




290              GREEN MOUNT'AIN
had been fixed, and sundry other general arrange,
ments had been made. I was to start on the first of
April following, and was to remain one year. -
broke the intelligence-literally smashed it-to Fanny
-for I was too full to allow circumlocution.  She
received it quite calmly at first, but directly after
wards exhibited more feeling than I had anticipated.
It seemed to crush her exceedingly. It was not ordinary grief so much as deep dread that possessed her.
I thought it unreasonable, and told her so-gently.
She made no reply, and I regretted my remark, seeing that it deepened her depression, and sought to
divert her by dwelling upon the advantages I should
reap from the tour; the pleasure I should derive;
the joy of the future meeting after which there would
be no separation till death —dwelling emphatically
upon the short time I should be gone. "Only a year,"
I concluded, trying to look encouraging, not altogether
with success, I fear, for her unaccountable feeling
had begun to affect me slightly. I felt the mysterious influence more when she said in reply, looking
sorrowfully into my face —there was terror, too, in the
look —and speaking as though partly to herself:  " A
year is a great while-a great while. Till thou come




TRAVELLERS' E~NTERT'AINMENT.   291
back?  Yes; I shall live. I feel strangely. I know
thou wilt come back.  I don't know why I feel so.
If I could die when thou goest away. I would rather
die. 0, Ahasuerus, I am so unhappy!"
I was very unhappy myself after she said this, and
for the moment had more than half a thought of
revoking my determination. Yet when I went home,
and took counsel of my better judgment, I resolved
to treat the strange exhibition as a trifle which she
would join with me in laughing at on some future day.
In this, I succeeded until I saw her again in private.
It was the day after Joshua's departure-which happened at the expiration of six very pleasant weeksand I had a long interview with her —painful, and
discouraging. She saw tlat her state of mind was a
source of unhappiness to me, and promised not to
indulge in it. I left her with that promise upon her
lips.
When I saw her again, some time afterwards, she
was more cheerful, yet I could plainly see it was
the' cheerfulness of resignation rather than of hope.
What mnade her act so strangely? I asked her seri.ously, in an investigating spirit. IBut she could only
tell me she felt so. I was perplexed and saddened




292             GREEN MOUNTAIN
by it.  if she had shed a flood  of tears now and
then, w1aile talking about the expected separationlike a woman, and naturally, I should have enjoyed
such conversations as alluded to it, as a sweet luxury.
As it was, I avoided them. I saw she could not help
her sentiment, and I ceased to blame her, even in my
heart; but it made me melancholy, and more than
once my resolution was seriously shaken. I began in
a general way to dread the approaching time of
departure, and if it had been fixed three months later
I am quite confident I should not have gone.
As the day came to be near at hand, however, my
ambition and hopes were quickened, so much so
that when the parting hour came, I bore myself like
a man. She did not weep, even when I held her in
my arms and impressed the last farewell kiss, but
stood shrinkingly, with downcast eyes, saying-once
only —in a tone like the dying tremor of a harp moved
by the wind-" Good-by!"  I knew that tone was
from a soul wrung with deepest anguish, clouded
with despair-my own soul told it me. But Europe
was before me. The fondest hope of youthful imagination was to be gratified. Should I falter because
of the superstitions of an over-loving heart?  In




TRAVELLERS' ENTERTAINMENT.     293
this light I considered  it, and walked boldly
away.
It had been " in conclave decided" that my father
and Joshua should accompany me as far as Philadelphia, hence the parting from home was not so painful as it would otherwise have been-to me; to those
who remained there was no alleviation. They were
all there, Delia and her family, too, standing at the
old front gate, that morning when I returned from
saying good-by to Fanny. The carriage was in
readiness. They all knew where I had been, yet
none alluded to it. They were all weeping, little
Isaac, too, this time. Each embraced me fervently,
saying, "God bless thee!" each in turn, and the
painful ceremony was over. My father was in the
carriage, sitting upright very firmly, and looking
afar off while this was being done, taking apparently
no note of surrounding circumstances, until I
mounted to his side; then he coolly asked me if I
was ready, and upon my replying in the affirmative,
he uttered some severe sounds to the horses, which
they obeyed promptly, and in a few minutes we were
out of sight.
At the village we left. the carriage, and taking the




294            GREEN MOUN'rAIN
public conveyance went on to Harrisburg. There we
were joined by Joshua, and without delay proceeded
on our journey towards Philadelphia. Our wayfaring
experience was pretty mnuch like others' on similar
routes, being varied with partaking of mixed diet in
a mixed company, and having our pockets divested.
of large coins for scant equivalents; and with two or
three incidents such as a horse falling and breaking
his leg, and a drulken driver falling off his box, and
breaking the third commandment-pleasant variations when we could have no other, and helping to
shorten the time, which was long enough, but at
length came to an end with our entrance into the
City of Friends — 6of Brotherly Love," remarked
Joshua; "so named in allusion to the early settlers,
I suppose."  It was Joshua's first pleasantry since we
had set out, and it was quite refreshing. He had all
the way been very solemn, discoursing, when he said
anything, upon things which belong to the dark side
of life.
Here I was to separate from the last landmarks of
the old social field, and it came to pass with much
poignant grief. Yet, as there was a, general effort at
self-restraint amnong us, the ceremony had something




TRAV. E!L  E' l SI ENTEIRTA INMIENT.  295
encouraging in it, and I passed away from their sight
upon my distant journey, gathering fresh hopes every
hour.
At New York I took passage on a merchantinan,
which set sail the next day after I went on board.
The first four-and-twenty hours were very pleasant,
and I enjoyed myself so much, that I thought a life
on the sea must be very desirable. My impressions,
however, respecting  sea  life, were considerably
changed on the third day, and continued changed.
The slimy serpent, sea-sickness-the only genuine Sea
Serpent-co'mmenced its desolating ravages in my
defenseless interior, and for four weeks and one day I
was as one overthrown-mournfully  cast down.
Mighty Slough of Despond the Ocean was to me,
indeed; yet I came out at last on the other side.
Almost on all-fours —I needed half-a-dozen legs-I
crawled upon the pier at I-Iavre. "If such is Sea, I
am content- albeit without content," I observed in
the first assurance of solid footing, to a gentleman of glossy exterior, unmindful of the circumstance
at the building of a certain tower.  lie smiledbecause I did, I suppose, and executed an amazingly
graceful bow, coming forward, and with several




296             GREEN MOUNTAIN
more faultless bows of different degrees of profundity, and not less than half-a-dozen score of false
motions in half a score of seconds, communicated at
once two things-his desire to render me infinite service, and my first impression of an actual, living
Frenchman. I thankedl him in the best French I could
muster-which was not so very bad, as I had spent the
leisure of more than a year instructing myself'in the
language-declining his services, and he retreated;
but the impression remained-remains unto this day
-to my mind, the whole French nation in small.
From HIavre I proceeded directly to Paris. " Three
months in Paris," I found written by Joshua in my
pocket-memoranduml.   Accordingly  I  quartered
myself deliberately, selecting the most eligible hotel
and fixings, prudent regard of course being paid to
my pecuniary resources.
I was not long in discovering that Paris was a
large and thriving place —a great city; in fact, overgrown, too large to be comprehended even by tile
oldest inhabitant. Everything known in the known
world, I had reason to believe, could be found there
-from the lusty orang-outang down to a Franciscan
monk, and from a Frlelc fl ldan(ly lie l (-)lHe! way to an




TRAVELLERS' ENTERTAINMENT.    297
American traveller —inclusive of all that they or
their ancestors ever produced. It is true that during
the three months I staid there, I never sought in
vain for anything-except a letter from home. I was
not idle in the pursuit of medical and pathological
facts. Though necessarily desultory, I felt that my
time was very profitably spent, and 1 had only to regret
it was not three years, instead of three months, I
could pass there. But I must go the round in one
year, therefore I obeyed the directions which Joshua
had inscribed, and went to Munich. There I remained
six months, making very creditable progress.  At
Munich I received two letters-one from Cynthia
and one from Fanny; full of love, both of them, yet
how different!  The same mysterious sentiment
clung to Fanny, I could perceive, though she wrote
in a strain of encouragement and hope. I answered
them both elaborately, assuring Fanny, with a playfull allusion to her unnatural solicitude, that I would
soon be at home, and that I hoped she would join in
the great laugh at her folly.
"Six months in Munich, three months in London,
and then    a good long life at home," was the balance of Joshua's entry. I returned to Paris, intend13*




298             GREEN IOUNTAIN
ing fromn there to go to London. On the day of my
arrival I fell in with an American, a medical student
like myself. There was a similarity of temper and
views, as well as ambition, which drew us together.
We became, at once, warm friends.'Ie had been
some time in Paris, and was about starting for Berlin,
and importuned me to accompany him, saying it
would hinder me but a short time. and I would not
lose by it. In an evil hour I consented to go with
him.
The day before we left Paris, as I was walking
along one of the principal business streets, somewhat
heavy of heart, for I was not entirely satisfied with
my promise,-perhaps a shadow from the future was
upon me,-I was accosted by name. I did not at
first recognize the voice, nor anmongst the crowd see
its source either —" ]MuInn, Doctor MIunn! Dang it
all  you know me. Old friend Toom —Sam Toom,"
and out he came strongly individualized upon my
vision:-out, and up to me, and took my hand in
such Can unreservedly friendly manner that I actually
felt glad to see him, and told him so. " Away out
in Paris here, such an eternal, watery distance from
home. I'11 be danged if it don't do my heart good"




TRAVELLERS' ENTERTAINMENT.     299
— so much friendly feeling!-my heart warmed
towards him every moment. I was about speaking.
" I suppose," he interruptdcl "you'd like to hear
from the old homestead, c6nd so forth. I was there
two months ago this day; Have you heard since?"
I-le saw by the expression of my face —how quick he
could read faces through his sleepy-looking eyes!that I had not, and, hardly pausing, concluded,
"They were all well, and spoke of you."  He held
my hand all this time, and I felt I was getting a new
impression of his character. Ie kniew it, I believe,
and helped it on by saying rather abruptly —
"c Friend Ahasuerus, I am different from what I used
to be. I have sown all my wild grain, deposited
it deep in the earth. I've done all the mischief I'm
going to do in this world. Henceforward.a decent
man must answer to the name Samuel Toom."  I
believed him.  We talked of several interesting
matters after that, standing there together an hour or
more. He told me he was there with his emnployer
on business.  He inquired particularly about my
intended movements, and on my expressing a reluctance towards going to Berlin, he urged me with
considerable vehemence to go. At last our conversa




300            GREEN MOUNTAIN
tion came to an end, he asking me, at parting, if.
wished to send anything home, as he was going
directly there on his return to America.
HEe came to my lodgings that night, and I
entrusted to him a brief commnnication directed to
Joshua, informing himl therein of my change of route,
and of the probable delay it would occasion me,stating, also, that I should not write again until I
should reach London.
"s You-L leave to-morrow, do you?" observed Samuel
at the door, as he was going away-it was the third,
time he had made the observation since I had clearly
informed him of my intention. "Yes," said I rather
emphatically, for there was something in his countenance and manner that irritated me. I checked
myself instantly, however, ashamed of my irritation,
and was going to offer some parting remark in a
modulated tone; but he was gone.
"Did you entrust to him anything valuable."
asked my friend, who had been present during the
interview. I shook my head, asking in turn why he
inquired. Instead of telling me the reason, he spoke
of something else, and I thought no more ther of the
matter.




TRAVELLERS' ENTERTAINMENT.           301
The next day we left for Berlin. At the first
stopping-place I took up the morning paper to while
away a few minutes during change of horses, and, as
I ran over the local items, discovered the following:
"CASUALTY.-We learn that yesterday afternoon a young medical
student, while assisting in dissection at -    Hospital, accidentally
cut one of his fingers. Intense pain and swelling immediately
ensued, which increased rapidly in spite of all the remedies used,
and about ten o'clock he died in excruciating agonies. His name,
as we understand, was Ahasuerus Munn, an American, in Paris to
complete his studies."
"Singular coincidence of name and pursuit," I
observed to my companion.
"- Indeed, I think it is," he replied, and we laughed
at it.
"Our journey was long, longer than I had anticipated, yet pleasant.   The  country  we  passed
through is world-renowned, and between my friend
and myself there was historic lore enough to give
deep interest to much that we saw.
In Berlin I found so much to give me pleasure and
intellectual profit, that instead of two months-the
time I had prospectively allowed for my sojournnearly three were gone before I was ready to depart.
Thus far fortune had smiled. Thus far my future




302             GREIEN MOUNTA IN
had grown brighter and brighter —how benign! how
inspiring! Now it was suddenly darkened. On the
eve of departure from Berlin I was taken very ill.
For several weeks my life was despaired of. During
this illness my new friend showed by his conduct,
that I had not been deceived in him. Through his
unwearied attentions —and measurably through his
skill, I was rescued from the grave.
One day, during my convalescence, a German
gazette was brought to me that I might amuse
myself in reading.  Almost the first paragraph I
read, contained the startling intelligence that the
United States of America had declared war against
Great Britain. The Last War, you understandcl. It
was bitter intelligence to me. Had I gone to London,
as Joshua had directed, I might then have been on
my way home under safe conduct. Now I had a
desperate gauntlet to run. If unsuccessful- O, my
God! I could not bear the dreadful thought. Themte
was something more than hope deferred that made
the conjecture so hideous. A vague suspicion was in
my mind —too vague, if not too dreadful, for utterance.
As soon as I was able to travel, I was inpatient to
be on my way'home. IMy friend consented to accom



TRAVELLERS' ENTERTAINMENT.    308
pany me as far as Paris, and together we thitherward
directed our course. We arrived at that city in safety,
where I parted, with deep regret, from my companion,
and went immediately to Havre. I there found an
American vessel —an armed brig'-lying in port for
refit. She was to sail in a few days for New York,
and with gratitude to Heaven, and renewed hope, I
took passage in her. Though stimulated for a time
with the incident of finding an American vessel without delay, that was going directly home, a strange
uneasiness began to haunt me —deepening into melancholy. It was a great distance. The ocean swarmed
with hostile fleets. I could not be delayed-yet I
might be. There was a multitude of adverse chances.
Iy depression and anxiety were agonizing.
Our voyage was pleasant —very pleasant-for many
days. We were almost home. The load was lightening.
One evening —according to reckoning, we were five
days fair sailing from New York -as the sun went
down, a large vessel under full sail, appeared upon
the western horizon. Hitherto we had encounterd
friends only, and therefore the stranger, though contemnplated with distrust, did not beget much anxiety




304            GREEN MOUiTAIN
Before dark, it was announced by the commander that
the stranger was making a tack, and that her course
lay directly towards us. Early in the evening the
wind ceased, and we were all night becalmed. Sufficient anxiety remained in my mind to call me at
break of day on deck, where I found considerable
excitement prevailing.  The wind had sprung up
again towards morning, and every sail was set.
" What is the trouble?" I asked of the first mate,
who was passing hurriedly, with a drawn sword in
his hand. He answered by pointing astern out upon
the sea. I looked, and to my deep dismay saw, not
more than a mile distant, a huge man of war, bearing
directly down upon us.
I will not detail to you what happened —only saying that on our part it was a hopeless race. In
less than two hours we were overtaken, and after
a short and terrific struggle were boarded. In my
despair I fobught-fought like a madman. With the
death of nearly three-fourths of our company, the
sanguine deed was accomplished-the brig was taken,
and those of us who had been secured alive, were
thrust into the hold of the victor.
We we.re taken to Barbadoes. On the way I was




TRAVELLERSB' ENTERTAINMENT.   305
not without hope; but when we arrived there, and I
was cast into a deep dungeon, and the massive door,
which mocked at the idea of escape, was closed and
bolted upon me, I sank to the cold, stone floor,
longing for immediate death-so hopeless.
It may seem strange that I was in such utter
despair. It is true that to be imprisoned, and that,
too, far from the ministrations of loving ones, was
dreadful, but I knew the war could not long continue,
not many years at most, and when that should end, I
would be free-perhaps before. Yet these I did not
think of. I wanted freedom then, then-or never!
The dark suspicion to which I have before alluded,
had deepened, within the last few days, into belief.
Samuel had dealt treacherously by me-would deal
treacherously to the sacrifice of my long-cherished,
most precious hopes. How clearly I saw it! I-ow
bitterly did I curse myself! Infatuated wretch! stupidly blind*! Except the short letter I had entrusted
to him, I had not written home since leaving lMunich.
That letter would not be delivered-ay, I knew it.
AWhy did I not return to Paris, after reading that
local item-question the editor —know it was not villainy —before I went on. Stupid fool! laughing at it




306             GREEN MOUNTAIN
as a joke! —laughing at the dagger which was to
enter my heart! I saw, or thought I saw, the rash,
yet fiendish machination, in all its subtlety. It drove
me deeper into despair-if such could be-the more
I reflected upon it. ~My body gave way under the
mental torture. A raging fever consumed me, and
wildness was in my brain. They took me to the hospital. How they saved me I cannot conceive. My
constitution had been already shattered, and I had a
fixed determination to die-I demanded death.
WVhen I was again able to walk, I was taken back
to the dungeon. HIappily for me, though I did not
so consider it then, I was furnished with a comfortable
room, and was decently f,,d.
In the exhaustion of strength, I seemed to have less
capacity for misery, and for a while experienced a
sort of negative enjoyment. As comparative health
returned, a deep melancholy, that had something of
resignation in it, took possession of me.
Slow months passed. I was as one in a dream. I
lived only in the present. The future-a blackness
from which hope shrank; the past-in sleep it came
to me, as a nun might visit the haunts of early life.
Only in sleep cc-lcl I bear it.




TRAVELLERS' ENTERTAINMENT.    307
Could they but know that I still lived-that I would
some day come to their loving embrace. They could
not know. They believed me dead. They had reason so to believe. That reason might not have existed.
Bitter consciousness! I could but curse myself. I
have said I lived only in the present. There were
shadows from the past-such shadows!-came to me
when I was not asleep. They came when hope would
persuade me, and cast their mantle over my soul.
"Samuel is unhappy."  "I know he has been bad
to thee."  Did that tender heart know what it
revealed in these? IHad I known, I would have told
her. But I only know they were grating sounds.
Now, in my agony, they were as shafts of burning
iight.
Sometimes I listened to the whisperings of Hope,
when she told me all these dark fears were empty
shadows-that the heart which had throbbed against
my own, in the sweet ecstasy of requited love, still
beat true to me —that the fiend would not prevail.
When I so listened I was happy-yea, happy.
Yet it was all a dream-wild and dark-with these
few gleams of light, like falling stars.,
The second autumn of my imprisonment was




308            GREEN MOUNTAIN
gantly laying waste the earth, when one day a sealed
note was put into my hand. I eagerly tore it open.
It was my passport. I was free!' I troubled not
myself to know how I came by my release. I was
free. That was enough. Free to go-where? Home.
I trembled-not with joy. "H ome" was no longer
a word of enchantment. It conjured evil. I dreaded
to go, yet could not stay. The wild, dark dream continued.
On the wide sea, beneath a kindly sun, and fanned
by vivifying breezes, hope revived within me. When
the shores of my native land opened mistily to my
vision, and the sound of glad voices from hearts hoping without reserve filled the air about me, I hoped
with them, yet not without reserve, alas!
We landed at New York. Without delay I went
on to Philadelphia-thence to Harrisburg. I came
to the last-named place early one evening, and being
fatigued with rapid journeying, I put up for the night
-at the old hotel, which had been like a second home
to me. It had changed hands, as I saw immediately
on my entrance.
"Does Doctor Noyles stay here?" I asked —with
what eagerness you may i magine —of the clerk.




TRAVELLERS' ENTERTAINMENT.    309' Am not acquainted with the gentleman, sir.' I
think no such name is on the list, sir."
He looked. While he was looking, a middle-aged
man, well dressed, and of easy bearing, accosted me.
"Are you acquainted with Doctor Noyles " he
said.
" I was, years ago," I replied.
" So was I, many years ago."
"'Have you seen him lately?" I inquired, hoping
through him, perhaps, to learn Joshua's place of stopping, as the clerk had just denied the presence of
his name upon the list.
"About two years ago I saw him last-an hour or
so-at Richmond, Virginia. His health was not good,
and he was suffering under some bereavement, that
made him very melancholy."
"Did he tell you the name of the friend he had
lost?" I asked, tears starting in my eyes-the haunting conjecture that I had believed and disbelieved,
fought against and shrunk before so long, must it yet
be true? My brain swam with the fierce tumult of
the instant.
" Ite did tell me the name," said he, after a short
effort at recollection; " but for the life of me I can't




310            GREEN MOUNTAIN
recall it now. A young man who had studied
with him. Singular I can't think of the name. Aha!
useless. Died in Europe. Accidental death. He
seemed to mourn very much, and was travelling in
part to divert his mind."
It was true! I Ihac seen the rash machination ihn
all its subtlety. Oh, the agony of that moment!
I trembled, my breath was short, and my heart
labored as in an overwhelming flood!
"You are not well," remarked the gentleman, looking upon me with surprise and anxiety.
Fearful struggle! Yet but a moment! I replied
with a calmness that astonished me-" What you
have said interests me very much.  That young
man's name was munnn."
"'Well, yes, I think it was. Munn? Munn? Yes,
it was."
c" And I am he!"
" Indeed! False report, then. I'm glad of it —I
am so. It will do the old man's heart good. He has
had trouble in his day-scathing, corroding affliction
-worse than death by fagot Oh, such days!-awful
days! My young friend, we must go and visit the
Doctor together, to-morrow. With one or two brief




TRAVELLERS' ENTERTAINMENT.     31M
exceptions, it is now more than twenty-five years
since we have sat and wandered together in friendly
intercourse, and I have come nearly five hundred
miles in these troublous times on purpose to see him,
and renew, for a while, at leisure, the broken thread
-broken —ah! I will not think of it.
In the morning the acquaintance of the previous
evening joined me after breakfast, and we went down
the street so familiar-familiar though changedtowards the old office. When we came to the door, I
knocked. No answer. I was about to knock again,
when I noticed to my great surprise that the old
sign was gone, and a new one, with a strange name,
occupied its place. He has retired from business,
was my first thought. We should not find him in the
city. No place more likely at which to meet him,
than my father's house. I expressed these to my
companion, and he promptly agreed to accompany
me home. The stage would not go out till after dinner, I knew; and to pass the time, I proposed a walk
about the city.
It was a pleasant stroll, though to me melancholy.
The darkness of my future-it had never been so
dark before-contrasted with the distant, beaming




312            GREEN MOUNTAIx
past, which every step brought up, weighed upon me,
yet it was like the sway of mournful music, that peo
ples the realm  of oblivion. We were returning.
The old grave-yard was at our right hand. As we
came along to the gate, my companion stopped, tried
it, found it unfastened, and as by common impulse,
we walked in.
"This place is not new  to me, my friend,"
remarked my companion, as he closed the gate, " nor
do I come here from idle curiosity. I did not want
to come to this sacred spot until I had seen Joshua,
that   but I could not resist. Will you bear with
my caprice and amuse yourself for a short time
while I go to yonder corner?"
His voice was thick with emotion, and as he
looked at me for my assent, I saw tears in his.eyes.
I cheerfully complied with his request, and he
went away towards the corner. Interested in his
movements, I looked after him. He drew near the
cerner.  Suddenly he stopped, lifting both hands as
if in amazement. Then he turned and beckoned to
me.  I hurriedly obeyed his signal, and as I
approached, saw that he was standing by a newmade grave, leaning on the.marble slab at its head,,




TRAVELLERS' ENTERTAINMENT.    313
and convulsed with weeping. What! Oh, it could
not be-it must not be. "Died," thus I read from
the cold stone, my heart and breath stilled with the
heavy wave of anguish that is like death-" on the
17th of July, 1814, Joshua Noyles, aged fifty-five
years and three months."
As a lurid flash it was, and then came darknessblindness. Every faculty, every sense was benumbed.
I should have sunk to the ground but for my companion's timely assistance.
It was several minutes before I recovered. When
I did, my friend had ceased weeping, and holding my
hand, he talked to me-told me there, as we sat
together upon the hallowed earth, what in happier
days I had so wished to know. Briefly he uttered
it. "V My young friend, let us rejoice that he is gone.
They are now together. You see another grave
here, close by the side of this one. In that lie the
remains of my only sister-once so full of life and
hope. She was beautiful —a frail, spiritually beautiful creature, and to her natural gifts was added all
that wealth could bestow. Joshua loved her —worshiped her.  His youthful soul, noble above ten
thousand, adored her as its high angel. There was a
14




314            GREEN MOUNTAIN
young, proud woman lived in the same town-Toom
was the man she afterwards married. She is dead,
now, I think. This woman loved Joshua, and sought
to win him. In every attempt she failed, and then
in a despair she sought rev'enge. Joshua and my
sister were to be married. She contrived and execut
ed a plot, dark and malicious almost beyond belief.
She managed to persuade my sister that Joshua was
false; she even went so far as to demonstrate by
means of forged letters that he had pledged himself
to her, and had sealed the pledge with a criminal act.
I was young then-a sailor, too, in distant seas. Had
I been at home, it would have gone differently with
them all, perhaps. My sister treated Joshua with
scorn. The noble youth sought an explanation, but
no opportunity was given. He left the place, and
went-no one knew where. For two years he wandered. What must those years not have been to
him!  In the meantime I returned.  I learnt the
facts. I knew Joshua, ay, too well not to know that
he was innocent. I showed my sister that she had
been deceived. She saw it plainly, and unspeakable
anguish harrowed her night and day. Her health
forsook her. Pnlmonfary consumption, to which she




TRAVELLERS' ENTERTAINMENT.     315
was predisposed, took fatal hold. She was near the
grave when Joshua returned-ghastly shadow of his
former self. They were reconciled. But the sun had
set, and there would be no more day.  In a few
weeks my sister died —in Joshua's arms, and he told
her before she ceased to hear, just as she was passing
from earth, that in heaven she should be his wife.
For many months I was with him night and day.
It seems to me no mortal could be more wretched
than he was, and live. I used often to beg him to
cease his wild lamentations, they so probed me from
mere sympathy. Time wore it away, however, and
before I left him, he could speak almost with calmness of the awful event. They are together, npw, in
heaven."
The stage was ready, and shaking hands with my
new friend-he had now no need to go with meI was soon on my way home —home, as one borne on
a subterranean stream. I came to the village in the
night, and walked on towards the old mansion. As
I drew near, the wind moaned through the old forest
— a voice!
I will not tell you, I cannot tell you, how -they
received me. A wild tumult of joy it was, almnost too




316       -    GREEN MOUNTATYN
much for them  to bear.  But at length they grew
calnl; and then'we talked together. How did they
get report of my death? I knew, but yet I asked.
Samuel had shown it them in a French gazette.
What was his object-or had he any? A dismal,
fleeting hope that he had had none, prompted my
~inquiry. He had an object. They had never seen it
before, and now thought it a rash, fool-hardy scheme
of his. "Yet," said my father, "he knew the political state of the country. He knew war was inevitable.
It was a desperate chance, and he adopted it desperately, with hope that in the dangers of crossing the
ocean, thee might fall a victim; or, hoping if thee
came, to accomplish his purpose before. He had
nothing to lose, and everything to gain."
How came my father to know so much about the
echeme and its- object.   Something had publicly
come to pass. What was it? The question was in
my heart, but I gave it not voice. I could not.
ThIe next day, as I sat in Cynthia's room, looking
towards Mr. Cline's —I had been talking of my
adventures-Cynthia began to weep. I divined the
cause. "Ted1 me," said I, passionately, "dear sister,
tell me. Do not reserve it. I must know the truth."




'TRAVELLERS' ENTERTAINMIENT.   31X
"Oh, my brother!" she exclaimed, "forgive her.
she clung long to thee, even after she fully believed
thee dead. Samuel was good. HIe attended divine
worship. tie joined the society. Everybody thought
he was going to be a better man. The Clines thought
so more than any, and they encouraged him. He
was here several months. At last he asked her to be
his wife. She refused. He importnned. He begged
me to intercede for him. Forgive me, Ahasuerus;
I told her to marry him.  She still refused. Her
parents insisted. When she promised to marry him,
I was by. I never heard such eloquence as Samuel's
then. She told him she would bo his wife, but he
must wait till the next spring. When she told him
this, he turned as pale as death, but said nothing. He
went away to Boston, or somewhere. In the spring
he came back, and they were married. They are
now living in Boston. I-is health is very poor, and
they say he drinks. Ile was only shamming.  Mir.
Cline's folks know it now. Pity her, Ahasuerus, and
forgive her. It would kill her to know that thou still
livest."
Thus my hope was smitten out of me, crushed, and
h)ilr'icdA   for ever?




318            GREEN MOUNTAIN
Several months passed gloomily on.  I had no
ambition to begin the practice of my profession, and
delayed it, staying around the home of my childhood,
wrapped in a melancholy abstraction, which my
friends labored in vain to dissipate.
One day-I had been at home seven or eight
months-my father came from the village in an unusually blithesome mood. I mlet him at the door,
and he shook hands with me, though he had not been
gone more than two hours. I was astonished; and
still more so, when he put a newspaper in my hands,
pointing, with a smile, to a paragraph headed,
"DIED."  The next instant I saw the cause of his
feelings. In connection, I read, " Suddenly, on the
9th inst., at his residence in ~ St., Samuel Toom.
(Pennsylvania papers please copy.)" The paper had
come from Fanny; her own dear hand-writing was
on the margin, and on the wrapper.
A star was in the sky-a morning star. The long,
dark night was at an end; a new day was coming to
my weary soul.
The brother went immediately to Boston.  In a
few weeks he returned, bringing Fanny with him.
After a decent interval, I visited her. She was not




TRAVELLERS' ENTERT'AIMENT.     319
much changed, only that she looked more sad than
when I had last seen her. Our first interview was
short and formal. The next was longer, and so the
next. Then all restraint was taken off. We wept in
each other's arms, and were lovers again.
A few happy months, and the union of souls, so
long known in heaven, was consecrated before men,
with great rejoicing; for every one round about knew
the history of our love, and gloriously exulted in the
bliss which had at last come to us.
Gentle-men, this is the end of the special train of
facts. You must make your own peroration, for it's
late, i'm sure, and I must go to bed.
"iIn view  of the special facts, then,-the train
thereof, I should say, —and the importuning of a
fact, I pronounce this meeting actually in a state of
adjournment, s-i-ne    die."
Thus remarked the lawyer, with labored articulation, in the midst of a most distorting stretch; and
we all arose quietly, and quietly went our several
ways, ending in bed.
Thle following Sunday-and it was the next day
but one-I stayed at a farm-house. The family all
went away to church, and left me alone. As I had




320             GREEN MOUNTAIN
the other two stories sketched down, it occurred to
me, that perhaps some day I, or some one else, might
be found in want of amusement; and, taking somehow a special interest in this story-long as it wasI thought I would add it to the others, thus making,
at least, a pleasant reminiscence, which I could bring
forth on a future occasion, if not for the gratification
of some one else, at any rate for my own. So I spent
the day in jotting down the leading points of the
Quaker's narration, in the evening consigning all to
my old portmanteau for safe keeping, where, in a
forgotten corner, they remained until the commencement of the present occasion.




TRAVELLERS  ENTERTAINMENT.    ]321
CHAPTER  TIIL
(OF Cmourse I did not tell my story. Yet I had one
in my head, and would have told it had opportunity
been given.  I introduce it here, under the general
impression that the series would be incomplete without it. It is not a story from  my own experience,
but a slightly modified one which I remember of
hearing when I was a boy. An old man, who used
sometimes to come to our house, told it once to my
parents and myself, on a quiet summer evening, for
our entertainment. He told it with a great deal of
feeling, and it affected me —a child —very much.
That it will have a corresponding effect-upon " children of larger growth," for whom it is now intended,
is, on my part, only to be hoped.
With this parenthetical preface, I proceed, giving
a title according to my fancy, and adopting the
manner in which the old man told the story —as
nearly as I can remember.)
14*




322              GREEN MIOUNTATIN
ELLEN)S GRAVE.
A little less than two years ago, I visited my
native town. Thirty years had gone by in the interval since my leaving it, and I found, naturally,
that great changes had taken place in everything
almost, and in nothing more than in the old churchyard. As the town had become populated, so had
that, gathering its denizens in proportion.  Aristocratic obelisks and iron railings; heavy marble slabs,
with angel figures and drooping trees elaborately
wrought upoli them; small slabs, with cherub figures
and drooping buds; unhewn slabs of common stone,
with no device —without a name!  Many, very
many, of these were new to me.  Many of the
names, too, were new; yet soime were old —familiar
as household words, and as dear.
It was a sunny Sabbath afternoon, in early autumn,
that I first went, after my arrival in the town, to
visit the old grave-yard. I was in a melancholy
mood, or I should not have gone, for I deem the
resting-place of the dead too sacred a spot to be
approached, except the soul be pre-attuned to the
solemn strain whose echo is ever there; and as I




TRAVELLERS' ENTERTAINMENT.    323
wandered, reading the names which in years long
gone I had so often heard, I grew more melancholy,
for now and then a life-history —what else than a
history of sorrows -a flashed from  afar upon my
quickened memory.  Here a brave man, stalwart
and subline, who had fought for and reared a precious growth of innocence, and worth, and beauty, to
see it fade in its ripeness and in its bloom-passing
from his frantic grasp, yet beckoning to hil —had
lain him down, that he might go and be with the
treasure he had lost.  Here a meek woman, a
widow —many years a widow-had gone to rest;
rest which she could not find on earth, for she was
the mother of an ungrateful son.  Here a child, an
orphan boy, had finished his earthly course. He
was a child of promise, and in his death there was
no common sorrow, for as everybody knew  his
history, so everybody loved him.
Thus I went on, enjoying with a kind of mournful
surprise what the familiar names brought up. With
mournful surprise. There was one I had in reserve.
— It could not surprise me. No; I knew, ay, well,
where it was, and I reserved it to the last. When
at length I came to it, lingeringly; fascinated, yet




324             GREEN MOUNTArN
stung with anguish, I removed my hat, and leaning
upon my cane, I read (though I had no need), the
inscription.  "In memory," so it ran " of Ellen
Lucas, who died AMarch 7th, 17-, aged 19 years,
one month and three days." As I read, I wept. It
was but a gush, as the last scene, heavy and dim, was
before me: -the gathered friends, the flickering
lights, the sobs, the broken wails, the marble figure,
and a smile which the spirit just departed had left to
tell us whither it had gone. It was but a gush, for
that smile carried me back to her childhood. I
remembered her as she was when I first saw her, a
prattling little creature, her words yet burdened with
the charming lisp of infancy. Bright blue eyes she
had-how bright!-and lips that might have kissed
an angel's, yet defiled them not, and around those
lips and bright eyes often played a strangely vivid
smile-so thrillingly beautiful, that to tempt it forth
was a feast at which the heart was never sated, and
which could never be forgotten.
I was a young man then, studying law; and as I
went to and from my place of study, I used often to
stop and watch little Ellen playing in the yard before
her mother's house. So often I did this, that she




TRAVELLERS' lNTERTAINMENT.    325
came to know me well, and would come, when I
asked her, to the fence and kiss me. One day as I
came along, she was sitting on the step at the gate,
crying.  Tonched with sympathy, I took her up
gently and asked the cause of her grief.
"I called them, and they would not come," she
answered regretfully, and choked with sobs.
"Who would not come?" I inquired.
"The pretty birds,' was her reply. I questioned
her further, and she showed me on the grass a little
blanket with some crumbs of bread upon it. This
she had prepared for sonme birds that had been
singing on a neighboring tree. She had called thenm,
and they would not come, but singing awhile, had
flown away. " Why did they not come?" I asked
with no certain object. She did not reply directly,
but said in a tone wonderfully pathetic for a child,
"I love them, but they don't love me."
I wiped a way her tears, soothing her, and presently she forgot her disappointment and its cause.
Not so with me.
Little Ellen was the daughter of a widow-her
father she had never seen. She had a brother three
years older than herself-an only brother, and she an




326             GREEN MOUNTAIN
only sister.  lie was a bold, healthful lad, with
strongly-marked features, and a fierce energy that
seemed almost too great for one so young.
A year or two later, when they began to go to
school together, I remember how they used to appear
on their way hand in hand-she looking at him, at
the trees, at the birds, and flashing her strangely
beautiful smile into the faces of passers by-he with
his jacket thrown open, his cap almost off his head,
his long hair tossed by the wind, looking fierce,
unutterable things into the great future which was
ever opening upon his gleaming sight. A noble boy
-such as one points out proudly to a friend.
I had not ceased my tarryings now and then to
watch little Ellen in her sports. One day, as I was
passing, her brother was with her in the front yard
playing. He was trimming a kite, she building a
play-house. I stopped, and stood looking, unobserved
by them. Suddenly she turned from her play-house,
as though she had lost all interest in it for ever, and
asked her brother what he was going to be when he
should have grown up.
" I don't know," he replied, engaged with his kite,
then in a moment, recollecting himself, continued,




TRAVELLERS' ENTERTAINMENT.    327
gazing off into the sky, his face beaming as though he
saw some glorious object —" Yes I do, too. I'm going
to be a great man. I'm going to be rich, and have a
gold watch, and have all the money I want to give to
beggars. And I'll make a silk kite, and have a cord
ten-thousand-thousand feet long, so I can fly it away
up above the clouds where the eagles went last
fall."
" Wouldn't you ever want to get married?" she
asked with timid earnestness.
"_No," said he stoutly. "I'd have you live with
me. We shouldn't have to go to school then, and
we could do just as we please. I'd like to see Ben
Bottles snow-ball me then, and say he'd tell my mother
if I touched him!"
" I'm going to get married when I grow up," said
the little girl after a minute's pause —" I'm going to
marry a prince and be a queen, and have glass dolls
as big as I am, and gold play-houses, and a great
room, as big as our parlor, full of flowers, andeverything."
The brother seemed not to have heard it, for he
took his kite, and with a loud hurrah started towards
the common. She turned around, looked with a sor"




328             GREEN MOUNTAIN
rowful dissatisfaction upon her unfinished play-ho. —e,
and walked slowly into the house.
Thus Ellen's childhood came beamingly to my
mind as I stood by her sunken grave, and it dried my
tears.
Over a lapse of several years-years of absence
from my native town-my mind leapt, and I saw her
in the first ripeness of womanhood-the child developed and intensified-still looking upon the world as
a garden with flowers springing up everywhere. She
was beautiful in the world's estimation-very beautiful, and as witty as beautiful. The proud, whether of
riches mental or material, sought her society, and
flatterers were ever humming honeyed words in her
ear.
I renewed her acquaintance-not to sip and flatter
as others did, but that I might be her friend and
guard her; for I knew how narrow was the pathway
which she was treading with such airy tread, and the
depth of the gulfs which yawned on either side. It
was a pleasant duty, and when I told her I had taken
it upon me, she thanked me for it, and with the deep
earnestness for which she was peculiar, confessed her
need of a firm, sagacious friend, who would always




TRAVELLERS' ENTERTAINMENT.      329
tell her the truth and love her for her virtues. I
should not perhaps have volunteered to sustain this
relation to her had her brother been at home. He
was at college-away, pursuing the objects of his high
ambition, and scarcely knowing more of her than
that she was his sister, and that he loved her.
As I became more intimately acquainted with her,
I noticed a strange trait. I was long making the discovery complete, for she kept it hid in her inmost
heart.  In her childhood I had seen it, but had
deemed it then only an idle fancy, and now hoped it
might prove nothing else. From the reading she indulged in I first surmised it, and then from remarks
dropped in careless as well as in earnest moods. I at
last came to know the fact. It was this: An unbounded admiration of rank. The tinsel and the
courtly sound of rank so fascinated her, though she
knew them only in imagination, that the land of her
birth was to her an object of contempt because it did
not cherish them. Strange trait, indeed; yet oftener
felt than seen, I wis. When I sought to dispossess
her of it, it was hidden deeper from me and disowned,
and I relinquished the attempt.
One day, several months after my returns a stran



330             GREEN MOUNTA1N
ger came to our town, and took lodgings in the same
hotel at which I was staying. The fact was not notable, but the habits and appearance of the individual
were sonmewhat so. He was apparently between
twenty-five and thirty years of age. His dress was
of the latest cut,' and punctiliously adjusted. Upon
his upper lip flourished a heavy, glossy growth of
beard, exquisitely arranged. His hair was long and
curling, and was combed smoothly behind his ears.
He wore gold-mounted spectacles, with side-glasses,
completely hiding the expression of his eyes, and carried a golden-headed cane. Among the folds of his
shirt-bosom, gleamed an ornament of strange device
-a golden heart, intricately wound with exceedingly fine golden wire, and pierced with a diamondpointed dart. Except this he wore no jewelry.
For nearly two weeks after his arrival, he was
not seen below stairs. He took his meals in his room,
and received no company. One afternoon, as I was
standing at the door of the hotel, watching the people
passing to and. fro on their divers errands of good or
evil, I felt a gentle touch upon my shoulder, and, turning
round, I saw the stranger before me. With the exqui.
site modulation of a native Frenchman, he addressed




TRAVELLERS' ENTERTAINMENT.    331
me in that tongue, soliciting me to share with him
the.unutterable pleasure of a short promenade.
Assuming the best grace and the best French I could,
I informed him I was at leisure, and should be happy
in attending him. He placed his arm in mine, and
we walked on together.
" You are, as well as myself, from foreign parts,"
he began, still addressing me in French. I informed
him that I was an American, rather testily, I fear,
for I thought he was inexcusably dull, or was making
game of me; and I informed him, moreover, that my
knowledge of the French language was very imperfect, and requested him, if he could as well speak
English, to do so. Upon this he craved my pardon,
and with an accent as perfect as had been his French,
he proceeded in English. "I was laboring under a
mistalke, my dear sir. I was sure you were Frenchborn. Can it be I have been so mistaken? You will
surely pardon me."
This left me in so awkward a predicament that I
kept silence, and we walked on a number of minutes,
neither of us speaking. At last, becoming somewhat
annoyed with the taciturnity of my companion, I
turned towards him, thinking to address some casual




332             GREEN MOUNTAIN
remark to him, when I was startled with the steady,
piercing look which I met. The sensation of being
in the vicinity of a huge, wrathfnl viper, took such
deep hold upon me that a slight shudder shot along
my nerves.
"By the way," said he quickly, yet carelessly,
"' have you been long in this delightful town?"
This is my birth-place," I replied, "but I have
been absent from it many years, having returned only
a few months since."'
"Aha!  Your birth-place? and you have been
absent many years? It must be pleasant to return
from distant wanderings to your birth-place, to meet
your old companions; to kiss sweet lips that were at
the mother's breast when you went away; and to waltz
with those who then knew nothing of passion's glow;
to read in the cool, steady eye of the matron, the tale
of passion, ripe then, now plucked,. enjoyed, and
existing only in memory. Indeed it must be pleasant;-or am I on forbidden ground? Perhaps you are
married?"
"No," I replied, telling the truth. -The next
moment I continued, with a wink, "I prefer single
life; it gives greater latitude, you know."




TRAVELLERS' ENTERTAINMENT.    333
He saw the object of my remark, perhaps, and only
responded with a smile.  We walked in silence
again. Suddenly he spoke in an altered tone.' I am a wanderer. The world is my home —my
inheritance the future. Time is my father. All will
be his, then why not mine? I like ruins. I take
after my father.' But Pleasure is my mother, and
pleasure goes before ruins; otherwise life would be a
cart-before-the-horse sort of an affair, and we would
do better to die first and live afterwards —not having
the fear of death before our eyes, eh?  Isn't that
good philosophy?"
I bowed assent.
"Would you think I ever had any trouble?" he
continued, resuming his gay tone. " Yet a veil must
hide something. Do you understand that? I have
lost mnuch may gain much. Aha! may gain a great
deal, and lose it afterwards. So goes the world. But
the Devil'take the odds! The future is my inheritance. Beauty is all around me. I can enjoy thatas a'mrn of'priecple, you know. What is man
without principle in this world?  Do you know what
I heard a dying man say once? Said he,'I would
give all the principal I possess for one more hour of




334              GREEN MOUNTAIN
life.' I thought at first it was a blasphemy, and was
going to be horrified, when a friend whispered in my
ear,' his avarice is melting.''Yes, and give heed to
the value of money,' I responded, seeing the point.
That offer was about equal to the actual performance
of a fellow of my acquaintance, who, in a fit of jealousy, determined to shoot his rival. He was very
rich, and that the justice of the deed might stick out,
he bartered his possessions for a bank note, and making a wad of it, heaped the favor, with the addition
of a little lead, upon said rival, killing, of course, two
birds at once-three in fact, for they hung him, notwithstanding his generosity, or rather because of its
being misdirected.  You understand, there was no
object in defending him. I tell you, you must have
money, if you wish to appear in a favorable light
before a jury."  The last sentence was spoken in a
low, emphatic tone, as though it contained valuable
information.
Our walk was finished, and we re-entered the
hotel. " Will you go up to my apartment?" he asked,
albeit releasing his arm from mine.  I did as he
wanted me to-politely declined, and we separated.
I felt relieved when he was gone; yet there was
something in the recollection of his manner that




TRAVELLERS' ENTERTAINMENT.     335
drew me towards him, and I would fain excuse his
lightness of bearing, his appearance of hollowness.
There was an undefined impression clung to me that
he had seen great trouble, and that "that veil did
hide something," and in spite of the viperine look
that had so startled me, I felt quite warm at heart
towards him as I dwelt upon the recollection of his
general manner. I wanted to see him again. This
want was soon gratified. The fourth day after our
walk, I received a note inviting me very politely to
come to his room. I went. lie met me with great
urbanity of demeanor, leading me to a chair, overwhelming mne with solicitous remarks concerning my
health and prospects. When he had done with my
health and prospects, he fell to talking of his own,
concluding. "I'm very lonely, too, here in this little
out-of-the-way town-I beg your pardon, sir, but it
isn't a city, you know, and I have been accustomed
to the excitement of ballk, and plays, and lectures,
and all that sort of thing, you know, and I must
have a substitute, or I shall absolutely perish."
There was much earnestness in his manner, so
much that my synmpathy was considerably excited,
and I told him I would do all that within me lay to
afford him  social pastime.  He expressed much




336             GREEN MOUNTAIN
gratitude for my promise, and to convince him of my
sincerity, I invited him to accompany me to a select
party which was to meet at Mrs. Lucas's that evening.
He accepted my invitation, and we went. On the
way lie gave me a card, upon which I saw elegantly
penned, " Leopold, Paris."  "You will please to
introduce me accordingly," he said.
In the faultless elegance and soft fascination of MI.
Leopold that evening, I saw nothing of the wayward
uncertainty which he had manifested to me when
alone with him. There seemed to be but one feeling
in the company towards him-that of admiration
and respect. Though thile oldest there, so completely
did I yield to his influence, that I could have
embraced him in the ardor of strongest friendship.
Could Ellen remain indifferent?  Her feelings were
quite too evident.  Hours after, when the social
ravishment had wasted itself in sweet dreams, I
awoke in the call night, and reflected upon it. I
was conscience-stricken. A still, small voice stabbed
me with its murmuring "All is not well."  But I
hooded the tormenter, saying, "If bad come out of
it, I shall have done my duty. If there be danger,
my warning will avert it."  Did I understand the
female heart? What virtuous bachelor ever did?




TRAVELLERS' ENTERTAINMENT.   337
From that, time forward, M. Leopold seemed to
shun me. Why? Ilad he only wished to use me?
Deep as it cut, I could not help the inference. When
I became fully aware that he really did shun me, I
repented deeply the act I had done, and with vision
sharpened by the injury my pride had sustained, and
anxiety concerning my lovely _prot6ge I watched his
movements closely.  I found no alleviation in
watching, for I saw too plainly that Ellen had
attracted him, and, though the warning had been
given and repeated, I saw that he was taking strong
hold upon her heart. It did not matter now to say
I had striven to avert the danger. My conscience
smote me sorely that I had brought them together.
Danger. Is there danger  I sometimes asked my
judgment. He is a villain, my judgment told me,
and I believed it. Perhaps he would deal honorably
with her. In that hope there was comfort, and I did
not resist it. Perhaps, too, prejudice warped my
judgment. I had only my first impression of him,
and the fact of his shunning me, from which to infer.
In the former I might be mistaken, in the latter my
feelings were necessarily concerned. Yet that would
not do. Thirty-five years of varied experience in
human nature did not tend to promote charity in




338             GREEN MOUNTAIN
such a case. Still he might deal honorably by her,
and upon this I rested-uneasily.
Of course, as I. Leopold had come forth into
society, the whole town had run wild after him. He
had become, at once, the talk and the thought of all,
and continued so. How could it be otherwise?  A
foreigner, with a courtier-like name, young, hand.
some, brilliant, fascinating, circulating among a fashion-loving, yet comparatively unsophisticated people.
When I saw how great was his popularity, I wished
much that I could think of him only as I had seen him
that first evening, at Mrs. Lucas's. But I could not.
He still continued to shun me. Why?  Did he
wish to make Ellen his wife, what could be his object
mn thus treating her chosen friend? If not-ay, then
he might have an object. I had not thought of it
so, before; yet I would not, when the idea flashed
into my mind, allow it to take form. I was powerless for. good, and must now abide the result as it
might be. I found means at last to quiet my conscience, but my forebodings-foolish as I tried to
consider them, sometimes-would not depart.
MII. Leopold was often at Mrs. Lucas's, and occasionally I met him there. I could not help but admire
him, though towards me he was so refinedly civil



TRAVELLERS' ENTERTAINMENT.    339
so exquisitely icy. What could Ellen do but love
him  And when I looked upon him, I had it not in
my heart to dissuade her, if to dissuade her had been
possible. Yet there were moments when I was alone
and calm, in which I would have made any sacrifice,
ther than of life, to have induced her to banish him
from her presence. Thus my mind wavered, with no
tangible cause. The vacillation made me timorous,
which was, perhaps, the chief reason why I did not,
the third time, sound my warning in Ellen's ears.
M. Leopold's attentions to Ellen, and their analogically-established marriage, became the talk of the
excited town, and except where envy was plainly at
work, no objection was urged. All believed in a
sunny result. Had anybody else such first impressions as I had? Evidently not.
Walking in the street one day, I was most agreeably surprised at meeting, in company with a friend
who introduced him to me, Morgan Lucas, Ellen's
brotler. I had known him well when he was a boy,
but had not seen him since. Time had done much for
him. Large, yet gracefully symmetrical in form, he
3tood before me in the noble bearing of fully developed mnanhood. The same fierce, dark eye, now
illumined with the meaning fire of high-toned intelli




340             GREEN MOUNTAIN
gence, and steadied with the experience of profitably
spent years. He had just returned from college, and
was, so he said, now prepared to enter upon the
duties of life. Alas! that the first duty was to be so
severe. But a wise Ruler had decreed it.
The next day he called at my office. X was alone
when he came. After the first gush of friendly greeting, I saw that a shade rested upon his countenance.
"Have you seen Ellen, lately "' said he, with a
tone of voice in which anger, sadness, and tenderness
were strangely blended.
" Last week," I replied; " why do you ask?"
" Do you know that fellow who styles himself Leopold, who is hanging about town here, doing nothing?
He boards at the same hotel with you, I believe."
"I know him, yes; but I know nothing about
him," I answered, far more deeply interested than I
wanted to appear.
"' Well, he's a scamp-take my word for it."
" IIave you seen him?'" I inquired.
"H e came to our house last night. He's a talented
rogue, though. He made an excellent show. But I
could read him. Oh! I hate that cobra-de-capella
look of his."
Our first impressions, then, agreed; but I did not




TRAVELLERS' ENITERTAINMENT.   341
betray my feelings, only remarking, " I am sorry he
does not please you, for it is said he is to be your
brother."
I had gone too far. He put his hand upon my
shoulder, and looking into my face with a keen, earnest glance, as though he would read my soul, said —
"Do you remember Ellen and me when we were
thoughtless children?  Do you remember how I
loved her then?.Do you know that that love has
grown with my growth, centering all my love for the
sex in her, until my very life would seem to depend
upon hers? I know you were a friend to us children,
and I believe you are our friend now. If you are,
do not mock me so with words. If I ever needed
the judicious support of an experienced friend, I do
now.  Mr. D, I believe that Leopold to be a
scoundrel, and that he does not intend. to marry
Ellen, but to ruin her —if —Oh, my God! Don't let
me think it!"
The veil. I had assumed was gone.  "Morgan,"
said I, grasping his hand, "' I am your friend, and
you may open your heart to me. Now tell me why
von think he is a villain."
"Well, I will," he replied. "This morning I was
talkinc with Ellen about hir. With the utmost sin




342              GREEN MOUNTAIN
cerity she told me he was a prince in disguise,'Prince of blacklegs,' said I.'Oh, don't talk so,
brother,' said she, with that deep tone of injured love
which you know she might have on such an occasion,
and forthwith brought me a letter which purported to
be from a distinguished man in France, written in
English, mind you. In that letter he was addressed
as' His Most Serene Highness,' and lots of other such
nonsense. I asked her to let me see some of his handwriting, which she did with that open confidence I
so love in her, dear girl! I compared the writing
carefully, and there it was, as plain as day, the same.
Now, you know her weakness, and don't you suppose
he knows it? And do you suppose he would have
played that trick off upon her, if he only wished to
marry her like an honest man?  Strange that she
don't see it! I told her so; but she began to cry, and
that was the last of it, then, of course. Oh! I hope it
is not too late."
I knew not what to say. Here my worst apprehensions were taking the form of reality. I arose and
walked the floor of my office, thinking of what I should
advise. I could think of no better course than to wait
and watch. "We can do nothing except as we may
persuade her," I said at last. "Perhaps what you




TRAVELLERS' ENTERTAINMENT.     343
said this morning may have an effect."  I talked on
for some time in this strain, and then he left me, promising to come again the next day. When he was
gone I sat down to reflect more calmly. M. Leopold
is a villaifi, that's clear, thought I. His designs regarding Ellen have been base, that's also clear. Have
those designs been already accomplished?  I must
not believe it. Yet there was a dreadful sense of certainty in the surmise. Some one had whispered in
ny ear that morning that M. Leopold was going
away —whispered, becanse there was little foundation
for the report —and because (it was a shrewd guess for
anybody to make) Ellen would be so disappointed.
Pressure of bnusiness had kept the report out of my
mind, until Morgan came. I would not tell him —no;
ke knew enough already. But now it was before me,
mnd I felt sick at heart. If that were true, all was
true! That must determine it. Yet we must not
be idle. No, we would watch lynx-eyed. If not now
too late, if not already gone down fifto that dread gulf
which is fathomless, our kindly grasp would draw her
from the brink. It seemed almost a vain hope, yet I
encouraged it, and thus dismissed, or tried to, the har-rowing theme.
The next morning, as T went early to my office, 1




344             GREEN MOUNTAIN
was painfully surprised to find Miorgan standing at
my door. Before I reached him I saw that something
had transpired, for his face was pale and downcast.
As I came up to him, he took my hand, afid looked
earnestly at me a moment, yet did not speak. We
entered the office and sat down. For several minutes
he remained silent, staring vacantly at the floor. I
felt it was for him to speak first, and remained silent
also. At last he said, mournfully:
"It, seems strange to think what thrce days have
brought to me —or, rather what they have taken from
me. It seems like a dream. It must be a dream. I
shall awake from it. I cannot live if I do not. How
true was my instinct!  I read it in her as well as in
him.  Must it be so? Dear, dear girl! It is an awful
truth."
" What!" I exclaimed, torn with anguish. HIis
face was ashy pale, and his eyes rolled fiercely.
"It is so," he resumed.  " What a night I have
passed.!  But away with these vain regrets. Blood
is on the breeze-ay, blood! Life? Nonsense! Mr.
D, I have it to tell you. Last night that wretch
was there —to see Ellen. I would not go into the
room. I could not. I went early to my own room,
which' is directly over the plirlor. For an hour or




TRAVELLERS' ENTERTAINMENT.     345
two it was quiet enough. nMother was gone to bed.
Presently I heard a scornful laugh —the detestable
voice! I knew it.'I shall die' —in beseeching tones.
It was Ellen. Another scornful laugh.'Will you
never come and see me?' she begged.'Don't be
foolish, girl.' Cold as an iceberg the tone was. Ellen
was crying. I could hear her sob.'Well, are you
going to say good-by,' he went on in the same cold
tone.'How can you.  Oh, my heart will break!'
Such despair in her voice! I wanted to go down and
cut his heart out; but I was chained to the spot.'Don't make so much noise, you pretty wench, or I'll
run now,' he said.'Oh I'll not speak. I never will
speak again. But stay. Don't leave me.' She tried
to talk low, but I heard distinctly. For a few mo..
ments neither of them said anything, or if they did,
spoke in a whisper.'Are you going,' she broke out
almost in a shriek.'Shut up.  You'll raise the
neighborhood. Let go of me! Come now. Now do
be a quiet, staid, little maid, such as Ifouznd you, and
let me go.''Tell me yolwill write to me. Tell me
you will think of me. Oh, promise!' Such wild despair!' Now, wench you're intolerable. Let me go.
Do you hear? Let me go.' I heard a fall. The band
was loosed.  The next momaet I wea iw ttho parilor




346             GREEN MOUNTAIN
H-Ie was gone, and Ellen lay there on the floor in a
swoon. I called my mother, and we restored her, so
that she could sit up; but her mind wandered. She
could not collect her ideas so as to tell me where I
would find the fiend, or she would not tell ine, I don't
know but that was it. She knows my temper. I did
not trouble her much. I knew enough. The dreadful truth was clear. I believe my own mind wandered.
For a moment it seemed he was before me. I clutched
his heart and tore it from h-is body. I threw it upon
the floor and stamped it. Mother led Ellen to her
bed. Poor girl! She moaned. I never heard such
a moan. It maddened me more than ever. But the
phantasm was gone;  All was reality! Qh, such a
night as last night was! I could not think of sleep.
But I'm  calm now. About sunrise a strange calmness came over me,-so deep, so like a giant spirit
breathing its whole energy into mine-that I was astonished. I feel it now."
I saw it in his face, and there was something awful
about it, like the sense one gets from beholding a
distant, steady gleam in the depths of night.'There is one little hope," he resumed; "but I do
not depend upon it. I don't know as I want to. Yet
it rhai ib fairly done. Mr. D —-, I have craved




TRAVELLERS$ ENTERTAINMNT.     34f
advice of you; but I don't ask it now. I don't want
to implicate you. I only want you to go wiat me.
I am young.  I may not remain so calm; and
want you to stand by me.  I know you are my
friend."
He reached out his hand, and I grasped it, returning his earnest look.
" Not a moment is to be lost now," he continued,
rising, and we went out together. As we were walking along, he said, " You know his room; I will let
you lead the way, if you please." The hotel was not
far off. and we soon reached it. "A re you armed?"
I asked, as we ascended the stairs.
" With truth and justice," he replied.
"Well, but that will not do," said I, haltmg.
"' You must have a more material weapon than those."
c I have thought it all over," he pursued, urging
me forward. " I didn't know how the sight of him
might madden me."
I could do no better than to yield, and we went on
to 1I. Leopold's room.
The reception we met with was faultless in point
of politeness. He was, apparently, in his happiest
mood, and talked with us sometime upon miscella
iWue, iaii'6esa topics,. with great vivacity and elo.




348             GREEN MOUNTAIN
gance of manner. Morgan sustained our part of the
conversation._ As for myself, I feared to open my
moath, lest I should betray mlly emotions. How Morgan kept so cool, I could not comprehend. Htis manner was light and easy, having nothing in it to betray,
in the least, the object of his Coming. While they
were thus talking, I looked around the room.  It
gave evident signs of its tenant being about to depart
Trunks, covered and strapped, ready for the porter;
an overcoat and a cloak, carefully brushed, lying on
the table, and a portmanteau by their side.  There
could be no mistake about it.
There was a pause of a minute or so in the conversation.
"You are about leaving, t see," said Morgan, as
though it was a casual remark, looking around at the
signs to which I have alluded.
c" I am, sir," he replied, and there was a little defi.
ance in the tone of his voice.
"When will you return, think you-if I may be
so bold," Morgan inquired, as though it was nothing tcJ
him. I wondered more and more at his nonchalance
"It is doubtful, sir," replied M. Leopold, still somewhat defiant. I looked at Morgan. The veins of hineck and temples were full-the giant  i;srit; org ur...




TRAVELLERS' ENTERTAINMENT.      349
him. Bending slightly forward, -and fixing his burn
ing eyes upon M. Leopold, he said in a firm tone, " Dc
yonuknow, sir, why I have come here this morning.'
MI. Leopold was not surprised, nor apparently in
the least disconcerted, and replied with a kind of
mocking smile, "Well, indeed, I don't know, unless it
was to bid me farewell. Our acquaintance is short,
it is true, but "" Sir, you can dispense with that mockrey," said
Morgan, interrupting him.  " I came here -n more
serious business than to bid you farewell. I came
here, sir, in the first place, to ask you, and'..)n must
answer me, when you intend to return, 03 whether
you intend to return at all or not."
"Yes, sir. Are you aware, my emblem..f tender
manhtood, that you are decidedly impudent.~'
" Answer me, sir, or the consequences be yours,"
said Morgan, rising to his feet.
"Aha!  You think of forcing matters, I see.
What do you think you will make out of it, eh?"
Young man, sit down, and calmly hear me say that
-are you going to stand a well, take it so thenthat, in short, sir, to come right to the point, for I'm
getting serious, that I shall not probably visit your
1elightfu1 town  again-very soon.  Now, sir, —




350           GR9EEN MOUNTANm
know it isn't polite, but circumstances demand itwill you leave this room?"'9
" No, sir, not till I have done. You acknowledge
that 3tou do not intend to return. I will spare you
no longer. Base wretch!"-how scathingly he spoke
it!-" you have done a deed which cannot be passed
over.  You are a villain. I beard you with the
name! And I call heav"
"Hold on, young man," hastily interrupted M.
Leopold, with a low, husky voice —he had lost command of himself, and was pale with passion'-"I'm
not accustomed to this. Leave the room, or I'll fix
you so that you can be carried out."  He turned to
his overcoat which was near at hand, and drew from
one of the pockets a heavy pistol. Prompted by fear
for my firiend's life, I made -a movement as though
i would step between them; but Morgan held me
back, saying in a manner that betokened the very
opposite of fear, "I Te dare not shoot. Let us see if
he dare;" and he raised himself to his fullest height,
and; folding his arms, looked down contemptuously
at M. Leopold. The latter clutched his weapon convulsively, and essayed to level it, but his hand trembled.  After twice attempting, he desisted, and
slowly arose to his feet.




TRAVELLERS' ENTERTAINMENT.     351
"See the puppy!" Morgan exclaimed. "See the
extent of his courage, will you?  Oh! I want him to
shoot me. He has stolen my life; I want him to take
the semblance of it. Let""Young  man," interrupted  M.  Leopold; with
tolerable' firmness of manner, though yet pale with
the tumult of passion, "you have a commendable
stock of bravery, I must confess —worthy of a better
cause."'
" A better cause!" exclaimed Morgan; with noble
indignation.
"Yes, I mean it," resumed the other, growing
caliner. " You are making a fine fool of yourself,
without counting the cost. Moreover, I, for my part,
can't see any cause about it; and I don't believe your
friend here does, either. You come here and put
impudent inquiries to me, and because I so deem
them, you beard me with hard names. You must
be laboring under some hallucination."
"Flimsy trash! You know what you have done.
You know you deserve a lingering death at my
hands. You know I would not descend to you, if
you had not risen to pollute the fountain of my life.
Vile wretch! Serpent! sneaking, detestable viper'
I will curse you, and you shall hear me."




352  GREEN MOUNTAIN
M. Leopold's anger again got the master of him.
"By G —d  I've a good mind to shoot himr
down," he said huskily, as though speaking to
himself, glancing alternately at his weapon and at
Morgan.
"Shoot, villain!" said Morgan, with a sublime
defiance; "I shall have a dying word for you, that
will gore your black heart for ever."
M. Leopold did not seem to have heard the remark,
but went on speaking to himself. "No, I have had
enough of it.  Pshaw! and all this for a girl!
Young man," he continued, looking at Morgan, "you
had better go home, and say nothing about it. I left
the girl as I found her, do you understand?"
Like a thunderbolt, and as quick, a heavy blow
laid him senseless upon the floor. It was Morgan did
it, exclaiming, " Swallow your foul words! I can no
longer forbear." Then turning to me he said calmly,
"If I have killed him, think you I have not done
right?"
I stooped to examine the insensible man. He was
not dead. In a few moments he opened his eyes,
and with much effort raised himself upon his elbow.
As soon as he had recovered his voice, he said,
"Young man, this act demands satisac4tion. You




TRAVELLERS' ENTERTAIZMENT.     353
will hear fronm  me soon.  I hope you will not
refuse."
Morgan made no reply, but turning slowly, as
though impelled, left the room. I followed him, and
we went back to the office.
"It looks," said Morgan, after we had sat a few
minutes in silence, " as though I went there on purpose to provoke him to a duel, don't it? But that
was not my intention. I only wanted to-day to have
him hear me curse him-curse him as his damning
crime deserves. I did not say half I meant to. His
imputation overcame my prudence. If that blow
had killed him I should have been sorry, for I know
that a few years, if he live, will bring remorse —a
punishment more terrible than man can invent. Do
you think he will challenge me."
I could see no reason to doubt it, and told him so.
"It is not that I shrink from death; but Ellen
would have no friend to protect her if I should
fall, and I do not want to kill him so; vengeance
would be half cheated of its prey if I should. I hope
lie will not challenge me."
After about an hour, Morgan went away. It was
Thursday this happened-Satullday I saw him again.
He had received a challenge, and accepted it, and




354 SGREEN MOUNTAIN
came to ask me if I would serve as his assistant. At
first I thought I would decline, but I felt that the die
was cast, that the dreadful test was inevitable, and
I ought not —I could not, the more I thought of itforsake him. When I had acceded to his desire, we
went out and walked togetlher. He talked of Ellen.
"Poor girl!" he exclaimed, " she grows worse and
worse. She moans and weeps continually. She will
not eat, and she sleeps scarcely at all. She will
answer questions, seems to comprehend what is going
on about her, yet pays little attention to it. Ier
bodily strength is rapidly failing. I am afraid she
will die. She thinks the villain is gone. She knows
notbing about what is brewing. I don't want her to,
until the result be known. She loves the beastly
scoundrel. Oh, what infatuation! I'm going to kill
him if I can do it fairly; and if I do, I suppose she
will hate me for it —if she live. But she will not
live. Her heart is broken. I know it."
We walked on, and came back to my office. Just
before we separated, he took my hand, saying, "M Br.
D-, I don't feel just as I did the other day, about
that wretch. I have come to the conclusion that he
deserves immediate death —that he ought not to roam
farther on his desolating course. I do not mean to




TRAVELLERS' ENTERTAINMENT.     355
assassinate him. But in the coming contest, you must
not look for compromise. One of us must die. If
he live at the expense of my life, perhaps remorse
will visit him earlier. At all events I shall have
done my duty."
The preliminaries were arranged.  The meeting
was to take place on the following Monday afternoon
in a secluded spot —a kind of glade-some three
miles from town. The weapons were to be pistols,
and the distance ten paces.
During the intervening Sunday, I was with Morgan. For an hour or two towards evening I was at
his mother's. Oh, what a change since I had been
there!- an interval of one week. Ellen, the brilliant, the beautiful, the hopeful -a wreck.  Pale
and haggard, her eyes almost blind with weeping,
her once glossy tresses wildly scattered over her
stooping form, she walked to and fro in her room,
moaning unceasingly.
"I love them, but they don't love me," —the distant recollection came, and I wept unreservedly. I
did not seek to disturb her, but tearfully contemplated her through the open door of her room, until,
becoming aware of my presence, she shut herself
firom my sight. The mother, bowed with extremest




356             GREEN MOUNTAIN
sorrow, sat in silence, as one bereaved of all that
could sweeten life. The brother-what a change in
him! In his youth, in his day of most glorious hope,
a viper had stung him, and turned all to darkness.
There was life yet-fierce, pent energy, which must
work out in its terrible power, before the wreck
should be complete.
It was too mournful. I could not bear it, and hurried away.
Early in the afternoon, Monday, Morgan came to
the hotel, where I had promised to be, and we
repaired to the place of meeting. We were first on
the ground, and sat down at the base of an old tree
to await the coming of the others. It was October.
The autumn frosts had done more than half their
work. Tall trees had begun to show their boughs
bleakly against the sky, and embowei'ed vistas were
coming to be naked, desolate paths. A blue mist
hovered upon the distant hills, resting less dense upon
the broad plain that intervened. The mist was quiet
— silent.  The sunlight, too, was quiet, and the
winds, yet eloquent all —their voice the rustling of
the falling leaves. The great Anthem of the Year
was in its minor key, and one note bore the burden
of the melting strain.




TRAVEmLLERS' ENTERTAINMENT.    357
"Talk to me, Mr. D —, I am very wretched," said
Morgan.
"'What shall it be about?" I asked, counterfeiting
an encouraging smile.
"' Oh, I don't know," he replied, sinking back;
" only it seems I shall go wild. I don't want you to
say anything. Did it ever seem so quiet and mournful before?  Oh, so mournful! Dear, dear Ellen!
IMy sister. What has been done 2 We used to come
here together for berries and autumn-flowers-years
ago. She is not dead. Why not blot out this awful
thing, and be as we were once, again? Alas! it is a'ixed reality. Death alone can change it. It will be
changed soon. Her days are numbered. When she
shall be in the grave, if I live, I may feel a melancholy satisfaction —I may at least come to recall these
awful days, and not be overwhelmed. Hark! did I
hear a voice? Yes, there they come."
>We stood up, and they came towards us. MI. Leopold and his assistant on foot, having left their carriage a short distance away. M. Leopold was dressed
in a complete suit of grey, and walked with his eyes
cast down and his hands behind him. They halted a
few rods from us, and his second beckoning, I went
towards them. The solemn preliminaries were soon




358             GREEN MOTNTATN
arranged, and the combatants took the positions
assigned them. When I placed the weapon of death
in Morgan's hand, he said with a firm, yet mournful
voice:
" You know what to say to mother and Ellen if I
fall. Break the truth carefully to them, but tell them
the truth." He then added in a whisper, " Watch
keenly. There'll be foul play, I fear. I see he has a
knife. Don't let him get to me."
"' Are you ready.?" inquired M. Leopold's assistant
of the antagonists. They assented. The word was
given. A few moments —awful, insupportably awful,
and the rigid grasp of suspense was broken by the
sharp, thrilling reports-an instant apart.
"'Are you hurt?" I asked rushing up to Morgan.
"No," he responded, smiling scornfully at his
antagonist; "but he is hurt!"
I turned quickly, and saw M. Leopold struggling in
the grasp of his assistant.
"Let me go!" he howled, in wild frenzy. "Let
me go! Let me reach him. Get out my knife for
me. I swear I can't see. O, God! —too deep!-Oh 
Oh!" and with a ghastly shudder he sank lifeless.
I assisted in bearing the remains to the carriages
When we had adjusted them,and the man had mounted




TRAVELLERS' ENTERTAINMENT.    359
to his seat, I looked around for M/organ. He was
gone. I lingered about for a while waiting; but he
did not make his appearances and, at'length I returned
to town, going to'my office as though nothing had
happened.
They bore the tidings to Ellen. At first she would
not believe them; but being solemnly assured, the
anguishing truth came to her shattered mind.
"IHe is dead, and my brother killed him," she said
tremblingly, and with a low, desolate wail, she sank
insensible.
Unhappy being! From that hour she was dead tc
this world. A slow, consuming fever, accompanied
with stupor and delirium, took fatal hold upon her,
and day by day the lingering traces of what she once
was passed away.
At length her physician announced that she must
die. We gathered around her couch. It was night.
She murmured in her delirium, and we bent to catch
the sounds. "Brother, brother," wildly pathetic. A
shadow darkened the wall, and suddenly a tall form
stood by the bed.  It was Morgan, unexpectedly
returned.
"Ellen," said he appealingly, taking her passive
hand, "Ellen, do you know me? I am Morgan."




360             GREEN MOUNTAIN
She stared vacantly at him, and then closed her
eyes. She did not know him. He bent closer and
kissed her.- Then, quivering with a grief that has no
tears, he left the room. Again we heard her murmur
" Brother;" but we knew it was only a wandering
memory of other years, and we did not call him
back.
Her breath grew fainter, fainter.  We gazed in
silence, broken only by the sobs of the agonized mother.
As we gazed a sudden light gleamed from the eyes of
the dying one. She raised her hands as if reaching
for some treasure almost within her grasp, and that
magic smile shot forth its thrilling radiance. She
seemed about to speak, but with a long sigh she
ceased to breathe. The light of her eyes was gone;
the smile became as a smile in marble. Ellen's spirit
was no longer ours to know and love.
Thus the sorrowful remembrance which thirty-five
years had scarcely dimmed, came to me, and I wept
afresh, and turning from the hallowed grave, I went
away sated with sadness.
THE END.