a 
 
NAOMI. 
 
NAOMI; 
 
 BOSTON, TWO HUNDRED YEARS AGO. 
 
 ELIZA BUCKMINSTER LEE, 
 
 AUTHOR OF THE "LIFE OF JEAN PAUL." 
 
 BOSTON: 
 
 WM. CROSBY & H. P. NICHOLS. 
 
 Ill WASHINGTON STREET. 
 1848. 
 
Entered according to Act of Congress, in the year 1847, by 
 
 Wai. CROSBY & H. P. NICHOLS, 
 in the Clerk s Office of the District Court of th- District of Massachusetts. 
 
 CAMBRIDGE: 
 
 M E T C A L V AND COMPANY, 
 PRINTERS TO THE UNIVERSITY. 
 
PREFACE. 
 
 I HAVE endeavoured in the following pages 
 to preserve, as much as was in my power, an 
 exact justice between the two parties j to pre 
 sent the bigoted age, the limited views, the deep 
 provocation, and the stern justice of our fore 
 fathers * in their dealings with the Quakers ; 
 while, on the other hand, I have not concealed 
 the audacity, the determined perseverance, and 
 the spiritual pride of those illiterate Quaker 
 women who came to this country as rnuch to 
 gain notoriety as from a sincere desire for mar 
 tyrdom. That such was the case in particular 
 instances in no degree impairs the simple and 
 
 M 95C4 
 
VI PREFACE. 
 
 sublime truth of the Quaker doctrine of " the 
 inward light." 
 
 Although some of the actors are fictitious, no 
 incident is introduced touching the Quakers 
 that did not actually occur in the years through 
 which the events of my story pass. The in 
 cidents are real ; hut that I have preserved the 
 costume and the coloring of the age, I can 
 scarcely hope. To some persons, I am aware, 
 no picture of a particular time, which does not 
 reproduce the exact language and manners of 
 the period, can have much value. Such an at 
 tempt requires a long and familiar practice, or a 
 higher order of genius than I can pretend to 
 possess. I have aspired only to take up a 
 humble position upon that which Scott calls 
 the extensive neutral ground of manners and 
 sentiments that are common to us and our an 
 cestors, arising out of the principles of our 
 common nature and existing alike in both states 
 of society. The difficulty of reproducing even 
 
PREFACE. Vll 
 
 such an imperfect picture of the domestic man 
 ners of our ancestors, where hints are to be 
 gleaned in the records of probate-offices and 
 the invoices of vessels, will, I trust, appeal to 
 the candor of my readers to pardon the pre 
 sumptuous attempt. 
 
 E. B. L. 
 
 DECEMBER 1, 1847. 
 
NAOMI: 
 
 OR BOSTON TWO HUNDRED YEARS AGO. 
 CHAPTER I. 
 
 " Look now abroad, another race has filled 
 
 These populous borders ; wide the wood recedes, 
 And towns shoot up, and fertile realms are tilled ; 
 The land is full of harvests and green meads." 
 
 BRYANT. 
 
 LET us ascend one of the many elevated spots 
 in the vicinity of Boston ; we look around upon 
 a beautiful panorama of protecting hills, now dot 
 ted with sheltered and cultivated farms, gar 
 den farms, like that of Eden ; then gaze a mo 
 ment upon the continued chain of towns that 
 have not yet lost the white gloss of newness, 
 and that, like a shining silver fringe, encircle the 
 skirts of the hills. Then, as the eye rests upon 
 the modest towers where science and learning 
 dwell, or is lifted to the iron walls where Chris 
 tian love ministers to the broken spirit (however 
 much we may wish the several positions re- 
 1 
 
2 NAOMI. 
 
 versed, that the torch of science were lighted 
 upon tthe hill-tops, and the darkened mind and 
 broken spirit sheltered in the valley), the soul 
 is yet filled with gratitude. We feel the throb 
 bing of the air and the trembling of the ground 
 as the frequent engine shoots arrowy by, leaving 
 its long trail of smoke, and the sharp vibration 
 of its whistle on the ear. With an effort, we 
 recollect that scarcely two centuries ago this 
 varied picture was all one unbroken forest, in 
 the language of the time " a howling wilder 
 ness," all but a few little scattered specks, 
 where the smoke of human habitations rose in 
 the twilight air ; and we feel awed by the power 
 of the giant Time, who, as he has trodden lightly 
 or heavily over the two centuries, has wrought 
 these changes and left these marks of his foot 
 steps. 
 
 At the period when the incidents that fill the 
 following pages occurred, Boston had been set 
 tled just thirty years. At the point of the pen 
 insula, in the crescent between its two protect 
 ing hills, nestled the little prosperous town, 
 sheltered on the north by its beautiful green 
 eminence, with its undulating line of summit, 
 that gave it the name of Trimountain ; while, 
 separated by the expanding mouth of the royal 
 Charles, the twin town of Winnisimmet, beauti- 
 
NAOMI. 6 
 
 fully planted on the opposite heights, was seen 
 clinging to the hill-side. 
 
 Thirty years had passed since the arrival of 
 Winthrop and his company. Although they 
 surmounted undreamed-of hardships, almost mi 
 raculous prosperity had attended their pious 
 enterprise. Both Copps and Fort hills were now 
 well fortified ; the former being well mounted 
 with heavy artillery, the latter protected by a 
 strong battery made of the giant trees of the 
 ready forest. Upon the third, the green em 
 inence already mentioned, was placed a beacon, 
 ready to be lighted at the approach of danger. 
 The little settlement, sheltered in the lap of 
 these three hills, had already assumed the ap 
 pearance of a considerable and very active and 
 enterprising town. It is true that no steeple yet 
 rose above, pointing the thoughts heavenward, 
 but many goodly houses had been built. The 
 streets within the crescent formed by the two 
 projecting eminences were narrow and wind 
 ing, laid out apparently as convenience dictated 
 paths to the first settlers ; but beyond, towards 
 Beacon hill and the isthmus, or Neck, " were 
 many beautiful squares for gardens and orchards, 
 with large and spacious houses, some fairly set 
 forth with brick, tile, slate, and stone, and or 
 derly placed, whose continual enlargement," saith 
 
4 NAOMI. 
 
 Johnson, "presageth some sumptuous city. And 
 these streets were full of boys and girls sport 
 ing up and down, with a continual concourse 
 of people." * 
 
 One generation of the emigrants had passed 
 away, and slept, not with their fathers in con 
 secrated tombs beneath cathedral domes, nor in 
 green, sheltered grave-yards under Gothic spires 
 that spread their ivy tracery to woo the breezes 
 of England, but in honored graves, beneath the 
 virgin sod, or lulled by ocean waves upon a 
 rocky bed. The honored Winthrop, the Puritan 
 saint, Cotton, the humble-minded Shepherd of 
 Cambridge, the strong-hearted Hooker, had all 
 passed away, they and those noble women, their 
 wives, and had carried with them much that 
 had formed the peculiar character, the grace 
 and charm, of the first colonization of Boston 
 Bay. These first settlers brought with them 
 the genial influences, the refining culture, of a 
 high state of civilization. The next generation 
 were sterner and harsher men. They were the 
 sons, born or educated in this less genial soil, 
 of those men who had grown and ripened in 
 England before they set foot upon it, and they 
 partook, perhaps, of the rougher and colder cli- 
 
 * Johnson s description of Boston in 1657. 
 
NAOMI. 5 
 
 mate. The snow of their exterior, hiding the 
 beautiful vegetation of Christian love, was deeper 
 than that of their fathers, and the rock required 
 repeated strokes to bring forth the sparkling 
 waters of refreshing grace. 
 
 The children of the first settlers, the first 
 generation born upon the soil of New England, 
 grew up in the absence of all those beauti 
 ful, humanizing, and softening influences that 
 belonged to the mother land. Their first ex 
 perience of life was a sombre and cold climate, 
 a hard, rocky, and sterile soil. The wealth 
 brought by their fathers had been expended in 
 providing the first means of living, the necessary 
 wants of that first colonization ; and, although 
 they began immediately again to accumulate 
 riches with the aid of a most prosperous com 
 merce, the first generation experienced from in 
 fancy many hardships, and acquired a character 
 of stern resistance, an intrepid boldness and un 
 wearied perseverance in contending with out 
 ward circumstances. They grew up, also, in 
 the absence of all those influences that fill the 
 mind with the sentiment of loyalty, perhaps the 
 most graceful of all sentiments, as it gives dig 
 nity to the humility with which we regard the 
 object of our loyal affection. Reverence for 
 God, reverence for law, took the place of the 
 
6 NAOMI. 
 
 sentiment of loyalty. Here was no court, no 
 monarch, no pageantry of rank or power, no 
 imposing church nor bishop ; and, as a boy ad 
 vanced into manhood, there was nothing above 
 him but the broad heavens, nothing around him 
 but law and order, to which his proud spirit 
 must bend and subject itself. 
 
 The genial influences of antiquity, also, were 
 lost to the second race born in New England, 
 as they have been for all succeeding generations 
 here. The venerable cathedral, the old gray 
 abbeys, the mouldering monuments, the conse 
 crated church-yards, the old stone cross guarding 
 the consecrated spring or fountain, all these 
 ancient symbols, all that way-side poetry of life 
 that met the wanderer at every step in England, 
 were wholly lost here. Only the grand and ever- 
 eloquent features of nature could here speak to 
 the soul. The immensity of the ocean, and 
 the savage solitudes of the forest, they gave 
 a stern elevation to the character ; but none 
 of those graceful wreaths and tendrils of what 
 is symbolical and poetical in antiquity and in 
 life adorned the stern Puritanism of the New 
 England character. 
 
 England, too, at this time deserved the epithet 
 of " Merry England." Fairs, merry-makings, 
 games, and sports were constantly recurring in 
 
NAOMI. 7 
 
 the mother land. The old maskings, the 
 Christmas games, the thousand quaint devices 
 and amusements of fairs, the harvest-home, the 
 May-pole and festival, Punch and Judy, the 
 Merry-Andrew, all were cut off from the 
 youthful mind in this country. Life was strip 
 ped at once, as with an iron hand, of all gayety, 
 as we see the gay, flowering weeds of a sum 
 mer morning cut down with one swoop of the 
 scythe. All these circumstances, and many oth 
 ers which I cannot mention, account for that 
 remarkable modification which took place in 
 the character of the second generation, or rather 
 in the first born upon the soil, and that has 
 transmitted its deep coloring to their descend 
 ants in New England even to the present day. 
 They account foj the added austerity and big 
 otry of that and the next generation ; and the 
 consideration of all these genial influences, at 
 once stripped away, should mitigate the severity 
 of our judgment when we look upon their nar 
 row views, their severity towards those who 
 differed from them, and their apparent cruelty 
 to the Quakers. Life, as we have seen, was 
 robbed at once for them of the softening in 
 fluences of antiquity, of the sentiment of loy 
 alty and reverence of those of higher rank, of 
 the genial effects of gayety and social amuse- 
 
8 NAOMI. 
 
 ments, and of all the beautiful poetry of exist 
 ence spread like wild-flowers upon the rough 
 granite of life ; and what did they receive as 
 a compensation ? They were the chosen people, 
 the favorites of the Most High. They had been 
 led into the wilderness by the Almighty, to do 
 and to suifer for a peculiar work, a most holy 
 purpose, to preserve the true faith once deliv 
 ered to the saints, and to found a church perfect 
 in doctrine and in practice. They, like the 
 Jews of old, were to be a peculiar, a chosen 
 people. The cloud and the pillar of fire were 
 to guard them by day and by night. Not civil, 
 but religious, bondage was the result. They 
 had suffered the hardships, they had borne the 
 heat and burden of the day, to earn the priv 
 ilege of sitting down at evening, under the 
 shadow of their own vine and their own fig- 
 tree, to worship God in their own way, to 
 have the Most High draw near and to sit down 
 in intimate communion with Him. Thus all 
 who disturbed their worship were aliens and 
 enemies, to be thrust out from among them ; 
 heathen, to whom the whole country was wide 
 enough, but from whose incursions their own 
 little inclosure was shut and barred. 
 
CHAPTER II. 
 
 " Before these fields were shorn and tilled, 
 
 Full to the brim the rivers flowed ; 
 The melodies of waters filled 
 
 The fresh and boundless wood ; 
 And torrents dashed, and rivulets played, 
 And fountains spouted in the shade." BRYANT. 
 
 LET us go back in imagination to a Septem 
 ber afternoon in the year 1660. The season 
 and the hour was one of almost unparalleled 
 beauty. It was the first day of September. 
 Nature had put off her bridal robes, and assumed 
 the paler and faded tints of widowhood, prepar 
 atory to the gorgeous drapery with which she 
 would celebrate a few weeks later the funeral 
 of the year. A cloudless sky and a deep repose 
 rested upon the earth, and seemed to brood over 
 the calm waters of the bay. The trees of the 
 hundred islands with which it is studded, not 
 then, as now, stripped of their native fores ts, 
 caught the rays of the declining sun in their top 
 most branches, while the light scarcely penetrated 
 the close undergrowth beneath. The sails of 
 many small vessels, coming up with the evening 
 tide, shone snowy white upon a darker back- 
 
10 NAOMI. 
 
 ground, and the setting sun glanced in diamond 
 drops from the paddles of an Indian canoe as it 
 shot from island to island. Much of the little 
 town lay in deep shadow as well as repose, built 
 as it was close upon the water, beneath the pro 
 tection of its armed heights, while the out 
 stretched curtain of its Trimountain was as 
 suming the gray tints of an autumn afternoon. 
 
 But the object of most intense and absorbing 
 interest to the groups of citizens collected upon 
 the summit of the most eastern eminence was 
 a large and gallant ship, that had long been 
 looked and prayed for from the mother coun 
 try, and now at length, as the winds had fallen 
 and there was a perfect calm, was coming slow 
 ly up with the evening tide. This ship was 
 freighted with many hopes, and not without 
 fears, for every family of the little town. It 
 was expected, also, to confirm the rumors that 
 had reached the colony of the restoration of 
 Charles the Second. Perhaps even the reg 
 icides, no longer safe in England, would flee 
 for safety to this country, and had taken refuge 
 in that very ship. 
 
 Some rude benches had been placed upon 
 the hill, and there were seated many of the 
 elders of the town ; some with spy-glasses at 
 their eyes, all with a composed gravity of mien, 
 
NAOMI. 11 
 
 concealing under the cold exterior of Puritan 
 asceticism the excited feelings and the variety 
 of passions that they in common with other 
 men possessed. The costume of that period 
 was not, like that of the present day, a stiff and 
 uniform outline of dark broadcloth ; the gravest 
 gentlemen of the period, in conformity to the 
 picturesque fashions of the time of the Charleses, 
 wore ample cloaks of velvet, turned out with 
 some brilliant color, and over them the broad 
 collars of lace called Vandykes, and bands of 
 the same material. The Puritan high-crowned 
 hat was just beginning to give place to the 
 beaver, turned up at the side, with plumes and 
 gold lace. Swords were worn by gentlemen, 
 and rings upon their hands. 
 
 Perhaps thero never was a time when the 
 distinctions of rank were greater. The artisans 
 and men of the lower classes formed a contrast 
 indeed, with their doublets of untanned leather, 
 or of a coarse cloth called drugget ; and as they 
 mixed with the other groups, they formed a line 
 of distinction of ranks infinitely wider than, in 
 deed unknown, at the present day. Groups, 
 somewhat more lively in exterior bearing, were 
 scattered at intervals, conversing in low tones, 
 and the children, just released from school, were 
 playing their childish games with an almost 
 
12 NAOMI. 
 
 ludicrous gravity under the severe eyes of their 
 elders, while the shrill treble of a young voice 
 would sometimes rise above the subdued tone 
 of the general conversation. 
 
 It is impossible for us at this distant day to 
 enter into the feelings of intense and varied 
 interest with which the different groups col 
 lected upon the hill-side watched and hailed 
 the vessel whose white sails had been filled with 
 the breezes of England, that mother land for 
 which they all yearned ; not that they came 
 here, as other colonists have gone to other shores, 
 to acquire the means of returning to spend their 
 hard-earned wealth where their hearts had 
 always remained. The chain that attached 
 them to the mother country remained bright as 
 ever, but they knew that they should find their 
 graves, as well as their homes, in this. England 
 had not yet done any thing to estrange them 
 from her. Their hearts yearned towards her, 
 as the settlers in the Far West look back to the 
 firesides of their New England homes, where 
 mothers, sisters, friends, and lovers still rivet 
 their earliest and dearest memories. They iden 
 tified themselves with England ; her history was 
 theirs, her literature was theirs. They had fled 
 only from the hierarchy and the priesthood. 
 The king, the exile king, was again theirs. 
 
NAOMI. 13 
 
 From England came their preachers and their 
 teachers, their garments, their fashions, their 
 news, their opinions ; the heart of England, 
 with every beat, sent the warm blood tingling 
 to the very extremities of these colonies. 
 
 There was scarcely one among all these 
 groups who had not some nearly connected rel 
 ative, some patron or some dependent, some 
 closely allied friend, in the mother country, 
 son or daughter, brother or lover, from whom 
 their hearts thirsted for the long-delayed tidings. 
 England and Boston were then like the two 
 ends of the magnetic telegraph ; the stroke at 
 the one end trembled through the whole dis 
 tance, and made its distinct impression at the 
 other extremity. Yessels of every description 
 were constantly passing and repassing between 
 the colony and the mother country ; yet, on 
 account of a long continuance of contrary 
 winds, it was now some time since any news 
 had been received from thence. 
 
 The various groups collected upon the hill 
 had each different, but equally absorbing, inter 
 ests in the tidings of the approaching ship. 
 In the preceding July, the colonists had affected 
 to doubt the restoration of the royal family ; 
 but now it was too certain, and they feared 
 the swarms of enemies that would gather round 
 
14 NAOMI. 
 
 the new government. The elders were anx 
 iously discussing the effect which the return 
 of King Charles would have upon their trade 
 and commerce. Little hope was entertained that 
 his authority would be as favorable to them as 
 that of the Long Parliament, or as indulgent as 
 that of Cromwell. Besides, they drew their knit 
 brows together and whispered of the Quakers. 
 The royal judge had decided that, in all crim 
 inal cases, appeal should be made to England ; 
 how then would the news of their scourgings 
 and mutilations, even the hanging, of the Quak 
 ers be received there ? But even at this early 
 period, in those stern and knit brows might be 
 seen the determined opposition of these men 
 to any interference that would rob them of the 
 power of dealing with their own heretics. No, 
 Satan, the father of lies and of heresies, was their 
 especial criminal ; their own discipline was the 
 only discipline that would do for him ; and it 
 had never dawned upon their minds that tol 
 eration could ever be the means of reformation 
 for so dark a culprit. 
 
 They were conversing, in some of the groups, 
 of the various annoyances and insults lately re 
 ceived from the Quakers. The very last Sab 
 bath Mr. Wilson had been insulted in his own 
 pulpit. Then whispers went round, that, in that 
 
NAOMI. 15 
 
 very ship now approaching, some of the escaped 
 regicides were concealed, and seeking a more 
 secure asylum in this country, where there 
 would be little fear of discovery. 
 
 " Yes," said an aged man, thrusting his cane 
 with force upon the ground, " if Charles takes 
 our enemies under his protection, we will retal 
 iate ; we will keep his safe from his vengeance. 
 He shall never lay his royal finger upon a sin 
 gle regicide who throws himself into our safe 
 keeping." 
 
 " No," said another deep, determined voice, 
 " let the royal commissioners beat the forests in 
 vain ; no dastardly treachery will be found on 
 this side the water." 
 
 " Well," said a gentleman that looked like the 
 schoolmaster, " the Council will now give orders 
 for a coronation, and the school-boys will get a 
 holiday. They and I will be the only gainers 
 in our poor little town by the return of his most 
 gracious Majesty." 
 
 " Poor, do you call it ? " cried another ; " thirty 
 years ago but two smokes arose in this whole 
 place, there and there," pointing with his cane 
 to the spots ; " the path between the two cabins 
 was made by the cow passing through the brush 
 wood from door to door to give milk to the 
 young children, the water from the springs 
 
16 NAOMI. 
 
 was sweet enough for men ; and now look at the 
 goodly wharves and warehouses, the masts and 
 shipping, the fisheries stretching across the flats, 
 the loaded ferry-boats ; and where will you see 
 more spacious dwellings than the governor s and 
 Sir Harry Vane s ? No, no, Charles has not a 
 brighter gem in all his coronet than this little 
 town of Boston." 
 
 " No thanks to him nor his father that it is 
 set in it," cried another; "but let us keep it 
 bright." 
 
 While these good citizens of Boston were 
 exercising the talent for which their successors 
 have continued to be distinguished, that of com 
 mending the gem of Massachusetts Bay, lower 
 down upon the hill a group of young women 
 stood apart, their fair complexions showing their 
 English descent ; but they had been long enough 
 in this climate of extreme variation of temper 
 ature to lose that appearance of robust health, 
 that ruddy complexion, which distinguished them 
 at home. That too frail delicacy of appearance 
 was just beginning to show itself, which is the 
 gift of our climate, inducing an early beauty 
 and a too early fading and withering of that 
 delicate beauty. Hoods of black velvet or silk, 
 confined closely under the chin, and through 
 which the face peered as through a cage, and 
 
NAOMI. 17 
 
 an amplitude of skirts even greater than at the 
 present day, showed that the more seductive 
 fashions of the reign of the second Charles had 
 not yet been adopted by the New England 
 dames. 
 
 " We shall have some new brocades for our 
 winter wear by this ship," said one. 
 
 " And no more sad colors," remarked another ; 
 " since Charles and his court have returned, the 
 ladies, I hear, are very gay ; all the lovely French 
 fashions that the court learnt at St. Germain 
 are introduced, and Mrs. Gwinne has rare taste 
 in dress." 
 
 " Hush ! " said another, looking up at the 
 bench above ; " you will be heard, and we shall 
 have more sermons upon dress, veils, and long 
 hair. By the way, the court ladies have intro 
 duced the fashion of natural curls, hanging all 
 round the head, like those of little girls as they 
 grow naturally, without scissors." 
 
 " And no jewels in the hair ? " asked another. 
 
 " Ah, no ! very likely all the jewels of the 
 Royalists went to support the king and his family 
 in their exile." 
 
 " And you, Mabel, do you not expect your 
 wedding-gear by this vessel ? The ring, I hear, 
 came long ago." 
 
 The young girl blushed, and some smiles 
 2 
 
18 NAOMI. 
 
 passed round. All smiled but one fair girl, who 
 had taken no part in the discussion, and whose 
 pensive expression of countenance showed that 
 some care weighed upon her mind. " God 
 grant," she sighed, " that I may hear by this 
 vessel ! " 
 
 "Who knows?" said one of them kindly; 
 " perhaps he has come himself, in this very ship, 
 and will take you back this time as his wife." 
 
 " Ah ! good bye," they added gayly. " Who 
 knows? Invite us to the wedding." 
 
 A bright color mounted to the temples of the 
 young girl ; but it faded away as soon, and tears 
 rushed to her eyes. The others were silent. 
 They did not intend to wound, and they turned 
 away from witnessing her emotion, while all 
 descended the hill together. 
 
 The last rays of the sun had faded from the 
 tree-tops, as the vessel touched the end of Long 
 Wharf, and took its place amid " shipping from 
 Holland, France, Spain, and Portugal, that 
 already crowded the little port." * A carriage, 
 with drawn curtains, that had been waiting on 
 the wharf, was then seen in the dim twilight to 
 drive slowly up through King Street, and turn 
 into the spacious yard and garden of one of the 
 
 * Johnson s description of Boston, 1651. 
 
NAOMI. 19 
 
 best houses of what was then called the main 
 road, now Washington Street. 
 
 It was Saturday evening j the Sabbath had 
 commenced, and the exciting event of the arrival 
 of this long-expected ship created no bustle or 
 noise in this well-ordered religious community. 
 All news, even the reading of letters, must be 
 deferred till after the going down of the sun of 
 the Sabbath that had already commenced. The 
 groups collected in various places were already 
 dispersed, and were winding their solitary steps 
 to their respective abodes. Darkness began to 
 settle over the little town. All shops and places 
 of business were closed. He who had neglected 
 to provide food for the next day, the Sabbath, 
 must fast, for nothing could be purchased after 
 sunset. The bt,ys were now all silent ; no 
 youthful voices were heard in the streets ; the 
 doors of all houses were closed. The bright rays 
 of the full moon, just rising in sheets of silver 
 over the waters of the bay, were excluded by 
 the shutters of the windows ; the streets were 
 deserted ; solitude and silence, except the rare 
 footfall of a late-returned wanderer, reigned with 
 out, and only the voice of prayer was heard 
 within the houses of this Puritan town. 
 
 Without, however, the Sabbath seemed to the 
 devout ear most solemn and holy. The place 
 
20 NAOMI. 
 
 was full of trees, and the night wind had be 
 gun its organ-dirges within their branches j the 
 hushed moonbeams rested upon the waving sum 
 mits, and marked long shadows upon the fra 
 grant earth.* The myriads of insects, aided by 
 the deeper tones of the frogs, began their even 
 ing chorus in the solitudes of the Common and 
 under the thickets of Beacon hill. Their " mys 
 terious psalmody " continued all night long ; 
 all evenings were alike sacred to them, and all 
 filled with a sacred concert of praise. 
 
 In the vessel that we have just seen ap 
 proach, and take its place at the wharf, there 
 was one person upon whom we wish to fix the 
 attention of the reader. It was a young lady 
 apparently less than twenty, although the usual 
 calm and composed gravity of her countenance 
 might to a cursory observer have added a few 
 years to her age. As the vessel approached 
 nearer to the land, and threaded among the 
 islands of the bay, there might have been seen 
 upon that usually serene and lovely countenance 
 all the variations of hope and fear, and uncer 
 tain, timid expectation. Since land had been 
 called out from the masthead, she had stood 
 
 * Winthrop says in his Journal, that when they approached 
 the land, " there came a smell off the shore like the smell of a 
 garden." 
 
NAOMI. 21 
 
 upon the taffrail of the vessel, watching with 
 intense curiosity all the changes of the coast, 
 and trying to fix her imagination upon the va 
 rious localities where she could recall the scenes 
 that she had read and pondered upon with the 
 deepest interest. 
 
 Could she not see with her eye, she asked the 
 captain, who stood at her side, could she not see 
 the frozen and slippery rock at Plymouth, and 
 the hemlock wood, laden with snow, where 
 the young mother, pale with terror, held her 
 infant clasped closer to her breast, while her 
 fearful eye sought the wood, expecting a horrible 
 savage to start from the thicket ? 
 
 Naomi, the soft and Scripture name borne by 
 my heroine, Naomi Worthington had been 
 nearly an orphan hi England. Her mother, when 
 she was ten years old, had married a second time, 
 and accompanied her husband, one of the early 
 Puritan emigrants, to the New World, leaving 
 the little girl with attached and faithful guardi 
 ans, the relatives of her own father. But Naomi 
 had always yearned for her mother, and had at 
 length obtained leave from her guardians to 
 come to the New World, to meet once more the 
 mother from whom she had been separated 
 nearly ten years. 
 
 It required some courage in the poor young 
 
22 NAOMI. 
 
 girl, for the exaggerated stories of the barbarity 
 of the country had reached her ears, and the 
 New World was indeed to Naomi a strange and 
 savage place. She had heard of horrible Indian 
 warfare, of scalping and burning, of the terrible 
 severity of the climate, of snow-drifts above the 
 roofs of the houses, of the ice-bound coast, and 
 wine frozen solid in the cask. She had read 
 of the hardships of the earliest emigrants, of 
 tender and delicate women dying destitute of 
 the comforts of home, of infants breathing but 
 a few hours the ice-filled air ; and as the vessel 
 glided upon a balmy sea, among the beautiful 
 islands of the bay, then filled with verdure, 
 and groves, and singing birds, her wonder and 
 admiration increased beyond measure, and she 
 asked the captain doubtingly, " Is this the new, 
 the savage world ? " 
 
 As they drew nearer to the crescent of the 
 little town, the sun had set behind the undu 
 lating summit of the Trimountain, leaving a 
 brilliant sea of glory in the tree-tops. She 
 could now distinctly see the groups of people ; 
 " the happy boys and girls sporting up and doAvn 
 the streets," a characteristic feature of Boston 
 that it has ever since retained ; the general 
 appearance of thrift and wealth ; the modest 
 houses, divided from each other by orchards 
 
NAOMI. 23 
 
 and gardens ; the narrow and winding streets, 
 ascending here, descending there, that gave an 
 indescribably picturesque beauty to the place ; 
 and, lastly, its embracing arms of water, its pro 
 tecting peninsulas of land, intersecting and en 
 circling each other. " And this earthly para 
 dise," she thought, " and my mother ! these are 
 to be my home " ; and, overcome with surprise 
 and joy, she melted into tears. 
 
 When she descended from the vessel to the 
 wharf, she found the carriage already mentioned 
 waiting for her. No intrusive curiosity, no pry 
 ing eyes, followed her there. It was, as I have 
 said before, the beginning of the Sabbath, and 
 all were within the walls of their houses. Na 
 omi, as she rode through the street, saw only 
 the deep shadows and the broad masses of 
 moonlight, brighter she thought than in Eng 
 land, and heard only the deep choruses of the 
 insects and frogs, till the door of her new home, 
 the door of her step-father s dwelling, closed 
 after her. 
 
CHAPTER III. 
 
 " Friends, kindred, comfort, all they spurned, 
 
 Their father s hallowed graves ; 
 And to a world of darkness turned, 
 
 Beyond a world of waves." SPRAGUE. 
 
 "What sought they thus afar ? 
 Bright jewels of the mine ? 
 The wealth of seas, the spoils of war ? 
 
 They sought a faith s pure shrine." HEMANS. 
 
 PURITANISM was, as those who embraced it 
 believed, a protest of right against wrong, of 
 good against evil, of heaven against hell ; in 
 many it was a true heroism, inspired by holy 
 motives, pursued with devoted energy, purified 
 from all selfish ends, and rewarded with the 
 joys of conscience. 
 
 The views and motives that led the Pilgrims 
 and planters to these New England shores were 
 as various and as widely different as the char 
 acters of the persons who composed the suc 
 cessive companies. Winthrop and his compan 
 ions were as true, as pure, as heroic a company 
 as ever set foot upon our sterile and severe 
 coast. They were inspired by deep, conscien 
 tious, but yet narrow and mistaken conceptions 
 
NAOMI. 25 
 
 of religious liberty. They wished to escape 
 persecution in England, but no sooner did the 
 occasion present itself than they became per 
 secutors in their turn ; tolerance for their own 
 opinions was the only tolerance admitted. That 
 tolerance itself implies intolerance was an idea 
 which had never dawned upon the religious mind 
 of the period. 
 
 Many came merely to enjoy an untrammelled 
 worship, to be rid of surplices, and what were 
 to them the idle ceremonies of formalism and 
 the ritual. A very large number came to this 
 country upon commercial speculations, with the 
 hope of making or bettering their fortunes, and 
 yet a larger number with a union of purposes, 
 of which, although none perhaps were of an 
 entirely elevated or disinterested character, yet 
 were none censurable or unworthy. 
 
 Included among the latter class was the mer 
 chant who was most largely interested in the 
 ship that had just arrived, and whose carnage 
 had been waiting upon the wharf to receive a 
 passenger from the vessel. The reader must not 
 suppose that a carriage was at this time a fre 
 quent appendage to a rich man s establishment. 
 There were perhaps half a dozen in the whole 
 country, and the merchant of whom we speak 
 was as able as any one to maintain this luxury. 
 
26 NAOMI. 
 
 Mr. Aldersey, to whose house Naomi had been 
 borne, was one of the most wealthy merchants 
 of Boston, although not one of the company 
 who came with Winthrop. At the time of 
 Winthrop s embarkation, he was living in Lon 
 don, and reaping a fortune from one of the 
 extensive monopolies common at that period ; 
 but he was a Puritan, and belonged to the 
 patriot party that opposed all monopolies. He 
 would have gladly remained in the enjoyment 
 of his own, by a connivance in which he should 
 not be known. It was, however, discovered 
 and withdrawn, and he came to hide his mor 
 tification in the New World. He returned, 
 however, at the end of a few years, and married. 
 His wife, whom he now brought with him, a 
 lovely and excellent woman, had large connec 
 tions in England of her own family and of her 
 first husband s (she had been a widow), which 
 made the rending of the ties to the mother 
 country most difficult. Naomi, the little daugh 
 ter of the first husband, was the darling of many 
 old relatives, who set their hearts and their faces 
 against the proposal of bringing the little girl 
 to the New World. Like Mrs. Wilson, the part 
 ner of the reverend gentleman of that name, 
 their imaginations exaggerated the dangers of the 
 sea, the terrors of the savages and monsters that 
 
NAOMI. 27 
 
 infested the land. Mrs. Aldersey accompanied 
 her husband, therefore, with a divided and bleed 
 ing heart, for the little Naomi, a child of nine 
 years old, must be left behind. 
 
 Mr. Aldersey had come to the country rich 
 in capital, and his business had been eminently 
 prosperous, and the new cares and new duties 
 of a new country had seemed to suffice for the 
 happiness of his wife ; another little girl had 
 also been filling in part the place of the little 
 Naomi in the mother s heart. In part only, 
 for the mother s heart ever yearned for the child 
 across the waves of the Atlantic ; a secret and 
 fond hope of uniting the sisters had given to 
 the younger the name of Ruth. " In the future," 
 her mother s heart whispered, " may they say 
 thy people shall *be my people arid thy God 
 my God." 
 
 The mother was not destined to behold the 
 union of her children. The relatives of Naomi, 
 especially the guardian appointed by her own 
 father, who had charge of her fortune (for Na 
 omi was an heiress), opposed his authority to 
 her earnest wish to visit her mother. The 
 young girl submitted, but with the firm deter 
 mination that, as soon as a few successive birth 
 days should give her the freedom to act for her 
 self, neither the will of man nor the waves 
 
28 NAOMI. 
 
 of the Atlantic should separate her from her 
 mother. 
 
 She was now nineteen, two more years 
 must pass before her wishes could be fulfilled ; 
 but the mother s health was failing, and her 
 last letter melted the heart of the obdurate, but 
 conscientious guardian. A passage for Naomi, 
 with her maid, had been reluctantly taken in 
 the next vessel for Boston, the vessel that, 
 after a long-protracted passage, we have seen en 
 tering the harbour. 
 
 I copy the last letter of the mother, as a 
 specimen of the epistolary style of the period : 
 
 " My dearly beloved daughter, Ten years 
 have now past since God, in his wise but un 
 searchable Providence, separated my precious 
 first-born child from my arms. It was like the 
 dividing asunder of soul and spirit, of the joints 
 and marrow. But through this tribulation I 
 have been brought to a more humble sense of 
 my own unworthiness ; only through divine 
 grace could my rebellious spirit be brought to 
 entire submission, and only through this chas 
 tisement to the patient taking up of my daily 
 cross. Has this trial had its blessed influence 
 upon the soul of my precious child, so that 
 through this tribulation we may be prepared 
 to meet and rejoice together in the kingdom 
 of our Father ? 
 
NAOMI. 29 
 
 " Now, my dear child, sorrow and weakness 
 weigheth heavily upon my life, and I feel that 
 if I see thee not before I go home, my gray 
 hairs will descend with sorrow to the grave. 
 Entreat thy guardian, therefore, to give me the 
 joy to embrace thee before I die. 
 
 " I wish, my daughter, to commit thy little 
 sister to thy care. Be to her what I have not 
 been able to be to thee, after the full measure 
 of my boundless love, but be to her a mother. 
 Let her home be thy home, her country thy 
 country, and may a mother s humble prayer 
 cause the blessing of the Almighty to rest upon 
 both her precious children ! " 
 
 Before this letter reached the hand of the 
 daughter, the heart of the mother, perhaps of 
 all human hearts that where dwells the purest 
 flame of love, had ceased to beat ; it rested be 
 neath the New England sod, and mingled its 
 dust with the martyr hearts of the first genera 
 tion of Pilgrim mothers. The Chapel grave-yard 
 is one of the most hallowed spots in the coun 
 try. There sleep many tender women, who 
 left the halls of luxury in their noble English 
 homes, the language of whose souls was, 
 " Whithersoever your fatal destiny shall lead 
 you, either by the furious waves of the great 
 ocean, or by the manifold and horrible dangers 
 
30 NAOMI. 
 
 of the land, I will surely bear you company. 
 There can no peril chance to me so terrible, 
 nor any kind of death so cruel, that shall not 
 be much easier for me to abide than to live 
 separated from jhee." 
 
 I have said that Mr. Aldersey did not exile 
 himself to get rid of the hierarchy, the sur 
 plice, or the bishops ; he came because he could 
 no longer enjoy the revenues of a monopoly 
 which his party had long condemned, and his 
 principles had barely suffered him to connive 
 at. He was already rich, and the commercial 
 property of the colony under the favorable re 
 gard of Cromwell had enabled him to double 
 his fortune since he came to the country. 
 
 In this religious community men lived ap 
 parently above the world. Religion was lord 
 of their life. To attain any degree of consid 
 eration, it was as requisite to be religious as it 
 is now to be honest. Mr. Aldersey had joined 
 the Boston church the first Sabbath after his 
 arrival ; he was a zealous church-member, an 
 Assistant of the General Court, a magistrate, a 
 keen detecter of heresy in opinion, and of lat- 
 itudinarianism in practice ; liberality of judg 
 ment in one or the other, with respect to others, 
 was a thing that had never dawned upon his 
 mind, yet he exempted himself from any par- 
 
NAOMI. 31 
 
 ticular strictness of principle or practice. His 
 great Bible lay open before him on Sunday, 
 and upon its very leaves he wrote his com 
 mercial letters. He had obtained secretly, this 
 very Saturday night, news and information of 
 the state of the market in England, which 
 would be imparted to others only on Monday 
 morning, and which enabled him to add sorne 
 thousands to his property. Yet his family de 
 votions had never been apparently more fervent 
 than upon this very evening, when his thoughts 
 were far away, busied with commercial spec 
 ulations. He was not, however, an unmitigated 
 hypocrite. He had always been prosperous, 
 and deceived himself into the conviction, that 
 it was the special blessing of God that crowned 
 all his inferior speculations and his fraudulent 
 gains. Such persons are not wholly without 
 excuse. The homage that even the most up 
 right pay to success, to worldly prosperity ; the 
 kind of acquiescence that even the best accord 
 to prosperous selfishness; the flattering antic 
 ipated epitaph, written upon the countenances 
 of all those who approach the man known to 
 have the most avaricious appetites, but attended 
 with ostentatious charities, all these deceive 
 him. They know he is the toad ugly and 
 venomous, but they are dazzled by the jewel 
 
32 NAOMI. 
 
 borne on his front. All this makes the true 
 heart, the discerning spirit, weep, and fear that 
 the great day of justice is yet afar off. 
 
 The principles of Christian love, the beati 
 tudes, can never influence society while those 
 mean and grovelling propensities are honored 
 and flattered because wealth and luxury attend 
 them. While the man whose heart is, moulded 
 from the down-trodden mire, where serpents 
 have hissed, and swine have rooted, whose in 
 tellect, of coarse flint, is only capable of being 
 struck into light by the hope of gain, gilded 
 with the trappings of wealth, is placed on high 
 to receive the homage of the world, while the 
 worshipper of truth, the man of pure unsullied 
 conscience, is thrust aside, or bears the obloquy 
 of public opinion, such society, whether it be 
 Puritan or orthodox, can never be Christian. 
 
 Mr. Aldersey was not ostentatious in his house 
 or his furniture ; he lived, indeed, rather be 
 neath than above his means ; his income con 
 stantly accumulated. Ostentation was not then 
 shown in the pride of luxurious living. Boston 
 has retained the stamp that was given it in the 
 first century. Its munificence is displayed at 
 this very day, as it was thirty years after the 
 arrival of the Arbella, in its patriotic and relig 
 ious charities, rather than in luxurious living. 
 
NAOMI. 33 
 
 We are surprised in reading John Dunton s 
 account of his visit to Boston about this period, 
 and also the old records of probate-offices, to 
 find so much of the luxury of furniture and the 
 splendor of their old homes mingled with the 
 rough structures and the numerous deficiencies 
 of accommodation in the New World. Mr. 
 Aldersey s house was on the south side of what 
 is now Washington Street, and was entered 
 through a garden in front j as the gable end of 
 the dwelling was towards the street, it enjoyed 
 at the same time the advantages of retirement 
 and publicity. The garden, filled principally 
 with vegetables, was divided from the house by 
 a small court paved with smooth pebbles from 
 the sea-beach, and the bank of green before the 
 front door was filled with English rose-bushes, 
 carefully imported from the mother country. 
 The spacious and most substantial dwelling was 
 rough on the outside, being built of large split 
 logs, the spaces boarded with unplaned boards ; 
 the whole, being unpainted, had attained a rich 
 dark wood-color. It was two stories high, with 
 a very deep overhanging roof, with two gables 
 on each surface, forming what is called the 
 Elizabethan style of architecture. The sharp 
 gables admitted each a window. The house 
 was nearly square, but, according to the fashion 
 3 
 
34 NAOMI. 
 
 of the time, each story projected more than half 
 a foot over the one beneath. The front ad 
 mitted four large windows, two in each story, 
 the lower ones projecting, or what are now call 
 ed Elizabethan ; these were formed of lozenge- 
 shaped glass set in lead, the upper sash being 
 whole and immovable, while the lower opened 
 in the centre upon hinges, like what are called 
 French windows at the present day. They 
 were protected by wooden shutters on the out 
 side, each shutter being secured by a wood 
 en bar. 
 
 The interior of this house presented an aspect 
 far more agreeable and polished than the rough 
 ness of the outside had promised. The front 
 door opened into a large hall, having a wide 
 and handsome staircase on the right hand, and 
 opposite the door of entrance a window opening 
 like a door to the ground. This gave admittance 
 at once into a deeply shaded orchard, whose 
 trees were well grown and now loaded with 
 fruit, among which were many of those trees 
 since called the Endicott pear. In the spring 
 and summer, when both doors stood open and 
 the trees were white with blossoms, a delicious 
 breeze, filled with fragrance, passed through the 
 house. A lantern was suspended from the 
 centre of this hall, and a large clock, with a 
 
NAOMI. 35 
 
 face of brass, ticked the silent moments, and 
 chimed the hours through the long, long sum 
 mer s day. The room upon the left, looking 
 towards the street, was furnished " with look 
 ing-glasses, a rich Turkey carpet, window-cur 
 tains, and valences of brocade, and enormous 
 brass andirons in a fireplace that would hold a 
 cord of wood." But what distinguished this 
 room above many others in the colony were the 
 hangings of rich cloth, by their raised figures, 
 resembling tapestry, that covered the walls, and 
 which the merchant had imported from Holland. 
 Upon the right of the hall was a smaller room, 
 called the merchant s office or study, which in 
 winter, on account of its warmth, was often 
 used as the family room. The chambers were 
 furnished with every article of comfort known 
 at that period, and the house was completely 
 stocked with plate, with tankards and wine- 
 cups, with pewter, copper, iron, and wooden 
 utensils for the kitchen. It must be remem 
 bered that much of this luxury was not com 
 mon in the colony, but was brought from the 
 house of the merchant in London. In addi 
 tion to this, for the period, elegant and lux 
 urious dwelling, Mr. Aldersey owned a grazing 
 farm, with large droves of cattle, at Muddy 
 Brook, and a small island in the bay, that kept 
 
36 NAOMI. 
 
 his enormous chimneys glowing with heat during 
 the long winters. 
 
 Material well-being was not the first aim of 
 our fathers. Mr. Aldersey was more conspic 
 uous for his spiritual than for his worldly 
 riches, his outside demeanour of sanctification, 
 his countenance, that frowned upon the ungodly, 
 his apparently holy walk and conversation, the 
 expression upon his brow, that ever said, even 
 without audible words, to the weak in virtue, 
 to those who owned human infirmities, even to 
 the humble penitent, " There is between us an 
 immeasurable gulf, - stand thou aside, I am ho 
 lier than thou." But to the elders and the min 
 isters, Mr. Aldersey s manner was humble and 
 apologetic. He seemed ever to be saying, " I 
 cannot help it that I am so much better than 
 you. I would, if it were possible, adopt some 
 few infirmities so as to keep my honored friends 
 in countenance." 
 
 The step-father of Naomi, of whose char 
 acter we have endeavoured to give the reader 
 some notion, was small in person, not tall, and 
 extremely thin, but muscular and strong. His 
 cold blue eye shone beneath a full and bushy 
 brow. His hair, which was thin and grayish, 
 had, since the return of the king, been replaced 
 by a wig of orthodox proportions. Mr. Alder- 
 
NAOMI. 37 
 
 sey bore in his physiognomy undoubted marks 
 of a keen intellect. His riches, his bearing, 
 his standing in the church, altogether chal 
 lenged universal deference. One might say 
 he governed those who lived with him by 
 his faults ; it would not be just to say so ; it 
 was rather by a cold regard to expediency, that 
 ever checked the flow of feeling, and made 
 others ashamed of enthusiasm, while his formi 
 dable array of virtues made them feel them 
 selves less than nothing in his presence. 
 
 Such was the house and such the guardian 
 to whom Naomi, who might yet be called a 
 child, as she was under twenty, bringing with 
 her only a female attendant, was committed 
 in this her new and strange home. 
 
 Completely overwhelmed as she was by the 
 stunning news of the loss of her mother, that 
 met her upon her arrival, exhausted nature at 
 length sank overpowered into the arms of that 
 precious friend of sorrow, that blessed attend 
 ant of darkness and stillness, sleep. While 
 she sleeps, we will endeavour to make the reader 
 acquainted with her previous history. 
 
CHAPTER IY. 
 
 "A perfect woman, nobly planned, 
 To warn, to comfort, and command J 
 And yet a spirit still and bright, 
 With something of an angel s light." 
 
 BEAUTY is spiritual ; the most perfect features 
 are unmeaning until irradiated by the light of 
 the soul, like those vases which are opaque 
 and indistinct till the light shines from within, 
 when they reveal forms of exquisite beauty. 
 Naomi, when sleeping, possessed that species of 
 beauty that had long informed her features. They 
 were now calm and motionless, like the marble 
 statue that will never awake to life. A noble 
 breadth of forehead, smooth and pale, like the leaf 
 of the camellia, was surrounded by soft brown 
 hair, that had never been festooned or curled, but 
 lay in wavy folds upon the pure marble. Her 
 eyes, now veiled by their lids, were of a deep 
 gray, or blue, or even hazel, according as the 
 light was reflected from them ; they were not 
 brilliant and sparkling, but serious, thoughtful, 
 sometimes sad, and when fixed earnestly upon 
 one, a mild light seemed burning within them. 
 
NAOMI. 39 
 
 Her complexion was pale, but not unhealthy ; 
 and the soft but serious mouth disclosed perfect 
 teeth. No one on first looking at Naomi would 
 have thought of her beauty. The regularity 
 of her features was lost in something more 
 precious ; 
 
 " A sweet, attractive kind of grace, 
 A full assurance given by looks ; 
 Continual comfort in her face, 
 
 The lineaments of Gospel books." 
 
 Yes, it was the full assurance of perfect truth 
 beneath those transparent features that made 
 the charm of her presence. It is a common ex 
 pression "as true as the Gospel"; in that sense 
 the word is used above, and we may add that 
 in Naomi it was a true gospel of love that 
 comforted all who looked upon her. 
 
 There had been few incidents in the life of 
 Naomi. Her character had not been formed by 
 external circumstances. Hers was one of those 
 pure poetical souls, that had as yet found no 
 manifestation. They seem made for an age 
 of perfection that does not yet exist. Painting 
 has succeeded in representing characters of this 
 kind, in the early Madonnas of the Catholic 
 church ; pure types of nature in humble life, 
 exalted, because they have been chosen. Poetry 
 has spoilt, by endeavouring to idealize them, 
 
40 NAOMI. 
 
 forgetting that their essence consists in being 
 simply what they are, divine.* 
 
 The fact of Naomi s early orphanhood, the 
 solitude of the heart in which she had been 
 left at the most important period of her growth, 
 was perhaps the cause that spiritual conscious 
 ness instead of external interests pervaded her 
 whole character. She had never known her 
 father, but to her mother s love and influence 
 her young heart had been completely open. 
 The early separation from her mother had been 
 the misfortune of her life, for although left with 
 the kindest relatives, the tendrils of the young 
 heart, thus torn away from their early support, 
 could not entwine themselves again, but floated 
 loose upon the air. Solitude and want of com 
 panionship, of the interchange of thought upon 
 the most interesting subjects, had formed in the 
 little Naomi habits of reserve and of secret 
 musings in her solitary hours, when her pillow 
 would be wetted with the tears wrung from 
 the lonely heart that longed to love. Not that 
 she had not objects of love. She lived with 
 indulgent friends, and in the truest domestic 
 harmony ; but hers was a heart that could only 
 surrender to tenderness, and to the most inti- 
 
 * This thought is derived from a foreign writer. 
 
NAOMI. 41 
 
 mate sympathy. To her absent mother she 
 poured out in her letters the riches of an afflu 
 ent, of an exquisitely beautiful nature, already 
 overflowing with love and enthusiasm. But 
 the too fearful mother, imagining in those divine 
 gifts an exaggerated sensibility, and fearing the 
 evils and sorrows involved in unrestrained, un 
 guarded affections, did not respond to the ardent 
 heart-warm expressions of her daughter. Her 
 letters in return inculcated the cold and guarded 
 precepts of a more mature, even a more worldly 
 experience, throwing over the exuberant blos 
 soms of this young spring of feeling the wet 
 blanket of an April snow, blighting for one 
 season the expanding flower, but strengthening 
 and enriching the plant whose deep roots cen 
 tred in the rich soil of the heart. 
 
 The solitude in which Naomi lived might 
 have made her a superstitious devotee, or a 
 dreaming enthusiast ; but fortunately nature had 
 endowed her with a vigorous reason, a strong 
 good-sense, that prevented her from becoming 
 either the one or the other. But her young 
 heart thirsted for excellence j she yearned for 
 an unknown, but a possible, goodness, which 
 she found not around her, neither in nature 
 nor in the world, neither in the church nor in 
 society, neither in sermons nor in books. The 
 
42 NAOMI. 
 
 conception of this ideal goodness was ever be 
 fore her ; but she found it not in herself, and 
 wept that she was never nearer to it than to 
 the rainbow in the horizon. Dwelling as Na-. 
 omi did upon the things of her own conscious 
 ness, she was in danger of sinking into mel 
 ancholy, had she not been arrested by a cir 
 cumstance which we shall soon mention. 
 
 The belief that each individual soul receives 
 light immediately from God himself has been 
 the spontaneous faith of many of the purest 
 minds throughout the world. Light seems to 
 descend into such minds in periods of darkness, 
 and in the midst of turbulence and oppression. 
 Women, as well as the other sex, pass through 
 deep and earnest struggles after truth. They 
 also wrestle with the angel, and are sometimes 
 victorious. Their natural timidity, forbidding 
 them to publish their thoughts to the world, 
 prevents their struggles and their conquests from 
 being known ; but in deep retirement, many 
 live and die in a pure and holy faith, feeling 
 that God is ever near their souls, giving them 
 bread to eat that the world knoweth not of. 
 
 Twenty years before this time Mrs. Hutch- 
 inson had broken through the restraints of sex, 
 and exhibited in this country her masculine and 
 independent spirit. Her inquiring mind and dis- 
 
NAOMI. 43 
 
 interested benevolence created for her a strong 
 party, and moved in her favor the most candid 
 minds in the colony ; and had she not asserted 
 a claim to prophetic inspiration, the Puritan 
 saint, Cotton, himself would have been her dis 
 ciple. As we now read her history, we cannot 
 but acknowledge that she was before the age 
 in intellectual insight ; but we feel also the 
 taint of all imperfect natures, and are obliged 
 to admit that her martyrdom (for it was no 
 less) was as much the fruit of her inordinate 
 self-esteem as of her intellectual superiority 
 over others. Her blameless life, perhaps, left 
 her conscience free from reproach ; but when, 
 from the savage solitude of her exile, she looked 
 back upon her career, she must have feared that 
 the slimy trail of spiritual pride had sullied the 
 white robes of her martyrdom. 
 
 Naomi was too truly a woman, and from in 
 stinctive delicacy knew too well the position 
 she held, ever to have made the struggles of 
 her soul the theme of public discussion ; but 
 she sank into a deep melancholy, for which the 
 mistaken kindness of her friends, ignorant of 
 the cause of the grief that was consuming her 
 young life, prescribed change of scene, the 
 gayeties of her age, and the amusements that 
 her rank in life permitted her to enjoy. They 
 
44 NAOMI. 
 
 had Royalist friends in London, and as it was 
 just the time of Charles the Second s return, 
 they took her to London, to be a spectator at 
 least, if not a participator, of the rejoicings and 
 festivities of the occasion. She saw the cel 
 ebrated characters of the age, if not very near, 
 yet near enough to observe their witty but 
 profligate manners, and that they turned into 
 pitiless ridicule every noble feeling, and every 
 genuine emotion of the human heart. Her del 
 icate beauty attracted much attention ; amuse 
 ments and parties of pleasure were pressed upon 
 her ; even more than one alliance was proposed 
 for her, by the not too affluent friends of the 
 king, prompted, perhaps, as much by her reputed 
 wealth as by the attraction of her refined and 
 delicate beauty. 
 
 Strange as it may seem, although in this 
 noisy and riotous London Naomi found no 
 solace from her melancholy, she found peace 
 for her soul. 
 
 The nurse who had attended Naomi in her 
 infancy had been placed by her mother as the 
 personal attendant of her daughter, and had 
 never been separated from her. Naomi loved 
 her, as children do love those whose faces have 
 never worn for them any but the kindest ex 
 pression of love and protection. The nurse 
 
NAOMI. 45 
 
 went with her to London ; while there, through 
 her family connections, for she was born in the 
 city, she became acquainted with the followers 
 of George Fox, and was soon a zealous disciple, 
 deeply infected with the principles of the Quak 
 ers. The confidence subsisting between Naomi 
 and her nurse permitted the most familiar and 
 intimate communication, and the words of pow 
 er that George Fox himself uttered were re 
 peated to her in the privacy and retirement of 
 her own bed-room. The simplicity of his doc 
 trine presented only what the humblest mind 
 could comprehend, and yet its sublimity could 
 fill the most expanded soul. " The inward 
 light, the voice of God in the soul." Naomi 
 listened to these simple words, and they poured 
 a flood of light into her mind. She had been 
 sitting in darkness, when as by a touch, as in a 
 theatre, the whole of her being was flooded 
 with light. She had been too long wander 
 ing alone in darkness. " She had ascended in 
 thought to heaven, she had penetrated the 
 depths of hell, she had gone to the uttermost 
 parts of the earth, seeking with prayers and 
 tears after the truth, but these simple words, 
 vibrating at the right moment upon her ears, 
 had been to her the firmest conviction that it 
 was within her own soul. Peace entered with 
 
46 NAOMI. 
 
 God into his purest sanctuary, a humble arid sin 
 cere heart." 
 
 As soon as the doctrines of the Quakers were 
 explained more fully, Naomi found they were 
 what had long been forming in her own mind. 
 She needed only the word, and the enigma was 
 solved ; she had found the key-note, and her 
 whole soul was harmony ; the spark had been 
 applied, and her whole mind was light. 
 
 After the account Margaret had given her, 
 Naomi consented, nay, she was eager, to accom 
 pany her to one of the meetings of the Quak 
 ers. It was the afternoon of a November day, 
 and the place of meeting in the neighbourhood 
 of Charing Cross. Long before they reached 
 the place, Naomi and her attendant, both wrap 
 ped in close hoods and cloaks, became involved 
 in the dense crowd of persons all pressing the 
 same way, and for the same purpose. George 
 Fox, at this time, while in London, drew im 
 mense crowds to hear him. The afternoon was 
 extremely dark, and this, added to the habitual 
 fog of the city, made it impossible to distinguish 
 one countenance from another. Naomi, alarmed, 
 pressed closer and closer to Margaret, but what 
 at first excited her fears was in fact her pro 
 tection. No one saw her fair, pale face, and the 
 contrast her appearance would have presented 
 
NAOMI. 47 
 
 to many in the throng. The two young women 
 were carried along by the pressure from behind, 
 and taken several times off their feet, till they 
 were landed in a large upper chamber, lighted, 
 and furnished with plain deal seats. A kind 
 of reading-desk was placed on one side, upon 
 which was laid a large Bible. 
 
 The room was instantly filled to overflowing ; 
 every inch of standing room upon the floor was 
 occupied, and the window-sills filled with those 
 who had the temerity to venture upon so in 
 secure a foothold. When Naomi looked around, 
 she saw that the audience was composed of the 
 middling class of persons ; many with close-cut 
 hair and steeple hats, and a sprinkling here and 
 there of velvet cloaks and curled wigs ; although 
 at this very time the Protector s family, and 
 even his daughters, attended in disguise upon 
 the preaching of George Fox. They waited a 
 quarter of an hour, and then, when he entered, 
 every sound was hushed, and every eye turned 
 toward him. Naomi saw a tall, large, and very 
 remarkable person enter. His face was comely, 
 with close-cut brown hair, covered, however, 
 with a broad-rimmed hat, which he did not 
 remove from his head. The striking peculiarity 
 of his appearance was occasioned by a complete 
 suit of untanned leather, not well fitting, nor 
 
48 NAOMI. 
 
 made by a very skilful tailor. His whole ex 
 pression and bearing was gentle, heart-soothing, 
 inspiring confidence, and composing the feelings 
 to respect and love. 
 
 He sat nearly half an hour in silence, and 
 the silence of the whole assembly was so in 
 tense, that Naomi felt oppressed by it. But 
 George Fox himself, as he sat there collecting 
 his soul in inward quietness, was the absorbing 
 object of interest. It is remarkable how his 
 personal character has been impressed upon the 
 whole sect of his followers, and is not yet, 
 perhaps, effaced from them as a peculiar people. 
 
 The silence was at length broken by the 
 slow, calm accents of Fox in prayer. Prayer 
 was one, perhaps the most remarkable, of his 
 gifts, the weight, as it were, of his inward 
 spirit. The fewness, but the complete fulness, 
 of his words of power reached every heart in 
 that assembly, filling them either with admi 
 ration, or with contrition ; with consolation, or 
 with hope and love. He was like one who 
 had been dwelling near to the source of per 
 fection, wisdom, and love, and brought, as it 
 were, the spirit and the language of that higher 
 world to spread abroad in this. It was, when 
 he finished, as though to every one of that as 
 sembly he had brought a gift ; as though he 
 
NAOMI. 49 
 
 had laid a rose in every hand, or a wreath upon * 
 every brow. Naomi felt as though she had re 
 ceived a jewel of inestimable price, that pre- 
 cious white stone of the Scriptures, " on which 
 a name is written that no man knoweth save he 
 that receiveth it." 
 
 If such was the effect of the prayer, how 
 much more completely was this precious doc 
 trine confirmed to her by the exhortation that fol 
 lowed the prayer, in which the precious doctrine 
 of the inward light, the perceptible guidance of ]/ 
 the Holy Spirit, the light that lighteth every man 
 that cometh into the world, was made logically 
 clear, and rationally true to her perceptions, and 
 its influence to comfort and sustain for ever estab 
 lished over her mind. 
 
 No one else spake that evening. 
 
 The impression that George Pox made upon 
 Naomi s mind remained unmixed and unim 
 paired by any other. It was like a pure cast 
 from a beautiful work of art, of which the I/ 
 mould had been broken. She did not attend 
 another Quaker meeting. 
 
 Naomi s mind having been prepared, guarded, 
 and balanced by a love of the truth she had 
 so long been seeking, she could not enter into 
 the extravagances of the sect. She was able 
 to separate the pure inward light from the empty 
 4 
 
50 NAOMI. 
 
 and noisy outwardly dazzling coruscations. It 
 is true, she wished others should receive the 
 light that had brought peace to her own soul ; 
 but, as it was within each soul, she thought it 
 should be the still small voice that would pen 
 etrate the mind, rather than the excitement of 
 the senses, or the tumult of numbers. She 
 never afterwards attended a Quaker meeting. 
 She had no sympathy with the Ranters. She 
 condemned all those vain peculiarities by which 
 the Quakers made themselves obnoxious to the 
 civil government. The folly of remaining cov 
 ered in the presence of princes, or in the church, 
 the absurd cut of their garments, the quaint 
 and often ludicrous application of yea and nay, 
 thee and thou, seemed to her transparent per 
 ception of truth like the mint and anise of the 
 Law, while the all-essential was neglected. 
 
 Naomi returned to her friends in the country, 
 outwardly changed only in the serenity that 
 had taken the place of the drooping and melan 
 choly expression of her countenance. Within 
 she had found the fountain of the water of life, 
 and her countenance had the transparent purity 
 of the statue that is placed to guard its serene 
 depths. 
 
 Immediately after her return, she was sum 
 moned to see once more the mother, who, 
 
NAOMI. 5 1 
 
 although so widely separated, had ever been 
 nearest to her heart. Her guardian s consent 
 was reluctantly granted, and she anticipated the 
 joy of making her mother a learner and a con 
 vert of the new truth that had sprung up in her 
 soul. But there was a drawback to her hap 
 piness ; she must leave Margaret, her faithful 
 nurse, behind. Her step-father had written 
 peremptorily that no Quaker or fanatic should 
 be permitted to accompany his step-daughter, 
 or to set foot under his roof. Indeed, it would 
 have been the greatest imprudence, for it was 
 at the time when the persecution of the Quak 
 ers was at its hottest point. Another attendant, 
 whose orthodoxy could not be suspected, was 
 procured for Naomi j and another of those sep 
 arations took place, that of the foster-mother 
 from her nursling, those rendings asunder, 
 whose pain no balsam has ever yet been found 
 to heal. 
 
 The protracted and tempestuous voyage, 
 whose termination was to reveal to Naomi that 
 she was doubly an orphan, had served to 
 strengthen and deepen her convictions of the 
 truth of her new faith. When the little bark 
 was lifted upon waves that seemed like moving 
 mountains uprooted and cast into the tumul 
 tuous depth, and when the mystery of darkness 
 
52 NAOMI. 
 
 brooded over the wide and sullen waters, 
 when the sun rose like a rayless ball of light out 
 of unfathomed darkness, and when the moon 
 spread over the hushed billows a mantle of 
 silver, she felt that the soul was alone with 
 God ; that he was near to her, and that it needed 
 no intervention of church or priest, or even the 
 Bible, to make her feel that he held her, and 
 all things, in the hollow of his hand. At such 
 moments, but they were few arid far between, 
 the habitual loneliness of her soul was gone ; 
 but at others she felt overwhelmed with the 
 thought of the desolateness she should feel in 
 the New World. It seemed to be a presentiment, 
 a foreshadowing, of the loss that awaited her 
 when she should set her foot upon the unknown 
 shore, and feel that no heart beat there in unison 
 with her own. 
 
 This presentiment was not false ; when Na 
 omi placed her foot upon the wharf, she was 
 informed of the death of her mother. It was 
 no time to give way to the natural grief of the 
 child s heart ; the self-control she had acquired 
 from her new principles came to her aid, and 
 she entered without apparent agitation her step 
 father s carriage, which was waiting for her. 
 
 It was the time to test the efficacy of her 
 new principles, and though Naomi could not 
 
NAOMI. 53 
 
 prevent the silent tears from streaming down her 
 cheeks, there was a calm and humble submis 
 sion in her heart. It had been her fond and 
 earnest wish to communicate to her mother, and 
 to make her taste of the hidden sources of her 
 peace and joy ; but now that she, the only per 
 son from whom she could hope for sympathy, 
 was gone, she determined the secret of her new 
 faith should remain locked within her own 
 breast, unless she should be called upon by the 
 voice of duty to disclose what would place her 
 in the front and most obnoxious ranks of heresy. 
 She felt no call for martyrdom, nor even for 
 persecution. In her secret and silent worship 
 of the heart, she could offend neither church 
 nor state ; and she trusted, however Iceen and 
 observant were the orthodox principles of her 
 step-father, that in her humble silence she might 
 escape his scrutiny. 
 
 When she alighted from the carriage, and 
 entered her step-father s hall, she found him 
 waiting to receive her. He held out his hand 
 coldly and stiffly, but with an expression of 
 extreme suavity upon his face. Naomi would 
 have taken his hand between both hers, and 
 pressed her lips upon it. He was her mother s 
 husband, and she felt almost a childlike wish 
 to throw herself upon his breast, and claim a 
 
54 
 
 NAOMI. 
 
 child s place in his heart. But the moment she 
 felt his eyes upon her, the moment she looked 
 upon the cold, pale blue of that eye, she shrank, 
 and a shiver ran through her frame. Mr. Alder- 
 sey seemed to perceive this, and bowed for 
 mally ; he immediately brought forward the 
 little Ruth. " It was the last wish of your 
 mother," he said, " that you would take your 
 little sister under your care, and make up to her 
 her and our great loss." 
 
 Naomi looked up into his face, and the tears 
 rushed to her eyes, while a vivid blush took the 
 place of the pallor that had overspread her feat 
 ures. " I was about to ask," she said, " your per 
 mission to return immediately to my guardian ; 
 but," she paused, "if any wish of my 
 mother s, or of yours, if any duty laid on 
 me by her should prevent," and she paused 
 again. 
 
 It was no part of Mr. Aldersey s plan to have 
 Naomi return to England. It had long been 
 one of his warmest wishes to have his step 
 daughter in New England at the time she at 
 tained her majority. He wished to get the 
 management of her modest fortune into his own 
 hands. " He could double it for her," he said, 
 and perhaps he deceived himself with this flat 
 tering unction laid upon his soul, although it 
 
NAOMI. 55 
 
 was immediately followed with the secret hope 
 that she would die unmarried, when her sister 
 Ruth or himself would be the natural heir of 
 her wealth. His plan was formed. Naomi was 
 to be treated with the utmost consideration and 
 external respect ; placed at the head of his table, 
 his guests must be hers, his friends her friends ; 
 their interests must be outwardly the same. 
 Acting upon this plan, he immediately said, 
 " Ah, no ! she must lay aside the wish of re 
 turning ; was there not the last earnest request 
 of her mother, and, though perhaps not to be 
 mentioned as having the same weight of influ 
 ence upon her actions, was there not his own 
 desire to place her in the only proper situation 
 for her at the head of his own family? and," 
 he added, somewhat stiffly, " her wishes should 
 govern his household, his servants, and, in all 
 things reasonable, himself." 
 
 The contrast presented to an observer by 
 these words would have been somewhat ludi 
 crous. On one side, Naomi, meek and humble, 
 upon whose whole features and person were 
 impressed the most feminine gentleness and in 
 the presence of her step-father a timidity not 
 exactly natural, but which arose from their rela 
 tion to each other. He who was to be the 
 slave of her wishes stood, on the other hand, 
 
56 NAOMI. 
 
 the very impersonation of inflexible obstinacy 
 and self-willed determination. Naomi herself 
 felt the truth, and shrank again with a feeling 
 of shivering from assuming any duties in a 
 household where the head seemed to her a sort 
 of living and walking tribunal, a secret inquisi 
 tion, not only restraining, and driving back from 
 the lips all gushing confidence and all swelling 
 enthusiasm, but even exercising a power upon 
 the secret, almost unformed sentiments of the 
 heart. Did the thought enter her mind of en 
 deavouring to explore the stony path that led 
 to his confidence ? Her mother had loved him ; 
 but Naomi had had reason to think that her poor 
 mother s hold upon that cold and slimy heart 
 had only been held because of the bleeding of 
 the feet upon the rough and thorny way. 
 
 She was inexpressibly relieved, then, when 
 the door opened and the servants entered, pre 
 ceded by one who seemed to be among, but 
 much superior to, them. Naomi s first glance at 
 the plain and homely features of this woman 
 produced a revolution, a sort of free-breathing 
 in her whole being. They met hers with such 
 a warm, and cordial, and truthful glance, that 
 there instantly arose within her a confiding and 
 homelike feeling ; the home, she thought, could 
 not be altogether intolerable, where a face that 
 
NAOMI. 57 
 
 expressed such genuine truth of character was 
 familiar. This person, who approached and held 
 out her hand with so simple and confiding an 
 expression, was Faith, the housekeeper and do 
 mestic guardian of the family. There was, at 
 the first glance, neither beauty nor even come 
 liness in that face, but the noble and true soul 
 spake through those plain features. Faith had 
 one of those faces, those true household faces, 
 that, after once knowing, we can never bear to 
 miss. They are like the cheerful fireside, the 
 comfortable arm-chair, the easy slippers ; they 
 cannot be dispensed with. But in Faith the 
 comforting and beautiful qualities of the soul 
 had so usurped and banished (to those who 
 knew her) all plainness of feature, thjti the very 
 features had the soothing influence of beauty. 
 Her friends were like those of the child, that 
 forms its standard of beauty from the features of 
 its first kind nurse, be they dark or fair, Grecian 
 or African. 
 
 Naomi soon followed Faith to the chamber 
 that had been prepared for her. It was the best 
 in the house, and furnished with what, at that 
 time, was extreme luxury. A large and elab 
 orately carved bedstead was hung with heavy 
 curtains and valances of brocade. The most 
 curious thing in the room was the covering of 
 
58 NAOMI. 
 
 this bed, a specimen of the industry of some 
 Flemish nuns, which in the course of commer 
 cial transactions had come into the possession 
 of Mr. Aldersey. It was formed of pieces of 
 different kinds of stuff, not one of which was 
 larger than a die. These were arranged with 
 exquisite neatness into a mosaic of a variety 
 of patterns. Flowers, birds, and animals were 
 placed in natural positions, and with nearly their 
 natural colors, all the work of the needle, not 
 in simple embroidery, which would have been 
 comparatively easy, but in the endless arrange 
 ment of little scraps of every shade and color. 
 
 The three windows of the room, one looking 
 into the street, the others into the orchard and 
 garden, were furnished with curtains of the same 
 material as those of the bed. The chairs were 
 of heavy, carved wood, and the toilet an elabo 
 rate piece of furniture of the time of Elizabeth. 
 With all this luxury, however, there was an 
 absence of little domestic comforts ; the leather- 
 bottomed chairs stood stiffly against the wall, 
 and every thing seemed as though it were not 
 for use and comfort, but for ostentation and 
 show. 
 
 The moment that Naomi found herself alone 
 with Faith, she uttered but one word, " My 
 mother," and burst into an agony of tears. 
 
NAOMI. 59 
 
 The tension of nerve, the self-restraint, the sort 
 of iron pressure upon brain and heart, that she 
 had felt in the presence of Mr. Aldersey, gave 
 way, and her full heart found relief in this un 
 controllable flood of tears, that seemed to break 
 down and overbear all boundaries and all efforts 
 at restraint. 
 
 It would have been natural for the two young 
 women to have thrown themselves into each 
 other s arms ; for Naomi to have wept upon the 
 breast of Faith ; but that would have been con 
 trary to the retinency of Puritan manners, that 
 allowed ho effusion or abandonment to feeling. 
 Faith, however, was deeply touched with sym 
 pathy for the poor orphan. She took her in her 
 arms, and laid her upon the spacious bed, already 
 prepared with fine and snowy sheets, loosened 
 her garments, and, with a tenderness like that 
 of a mother, paid her a thousand little atten 
 tions intended to soothe, while she attempted, 
 not by words of comfort or advice, to check 
 the flood of tears, relieving the burdened heart 
 of Naomi. At length Naomi looked up, and, 
 with an attempt to smile, said, " You mean 
 
 that I shall not miss my ," but the word 
 
 mother checked her again and she burst afresh 
 into tears. 
 
 " Do not try to speak," said Faith, gently ; 
 
60 NAOMI. 
 
 " weep, yes, weep for her, she deserved these 
 tears. Ah ! we can have but one mother, and 
 yours was one of a thousand." Gradually she 
 led Naomi to ask of her mother, of her man 
 ner of life, of her habits, her occupations, her 
 fervent piety, her religious hopes, her sickness 
 and death, till Naomi was soothed and com 
 forted, and her tears ceased to flow. Faith, 
 whose loyalty and faithfulness to others were 
 as immovable as the rocky foundations of the 
 globe, said not a word that could impair Naomi s 
 respect for her step-father ; but she could not 
 but feel that her mother s life had been one of 
 sacrifices, a victim to the petty faults of him 
 who should have been her support. Like a 
 tender plant upheld by the circle of an iron 
 ring, that chafed and corroded its too delicate 
 texture while it afforded the support that was 
 needed. 
 
 After some hours of conversation, Naomi fell 
 asleep, and Faith left her to the repose she so 
 much needed. 
 
CHAPTER V. 
 
 " They passed the sea, to keep 
 Their Sabbaths in the eye of God alone, 
 In his wide temple of the wilderness." 
 
 WHEN Naomi awoke, she recollected it was 
 the Sabbath. The sun of her first Sabbath in 
 the New World rose as calm and as beautiful 
 as it could have risen in Eden. No sound from 
 the street, not even a solitary footfall, disturbed 
 the deep repose of the morning. She rose 
 early, and, drawing aside the thick brocade cur 
 tain that hung across the diamond-p aned win 
 dow, looked out upon her new abode. If the 
 moonlight had been sacred and touching, upon 
 the broad waters and beautiful hills, the sun 
 lighted them with a transparent radiance such 
 as she had rarely seen in her own climate. The 
 azure of the sky was cloudless, free from mist 
 or fog, the water was of a more deep and shaded 
 blue, and the woods were beginning to show the 
 varied and softened tints of autumn. As the 
 sun rose higher, a slight mist gathered from the 
 valleys, and spread like a half-transparent veil 
 over the landscape. Many hundreds of human 
 

 62 NAOMI. 
 
 beings were hushed beneath, not, as in the Old 
 World, resting, overwearied with excessive toil, 
 or preparing for the joyous fete of Sunday, but 
 in prayer, that began at the dawn, feeding their 
 affections with the spiritual manna, which they 
 believed dispensed to their souls in this desert, 
 as the true manna was of old to feed the Isra 
 elites in their weary pilgrimage. 
 
 As Naomi looked abroad upon this splendid 
 but almost solitary landscape, her imagination 
 peopled it with scenes and characters accordant 
 with itself. A prospect that we look upon for 
 the first time, and which we expect will long 
 lie before our eyes, leaves almost an impression 
 of pain on the mind. It seems an unwritten 
 tablet ; and with what joys or sorrows shall we 
 hereafter fill it up ? These placid rivers, these 
 wooded hills, this boundless sea, were all silent 
 to her. She could associate no sorrows nor 
 difficulties with them now, in their radiant 
 beauty, such as she had heard the early pilgrims 
 had suffered here ; but her far-reaching and be 
 nevolent mind longed to fill them with happy 
 people, where conscience should be as free as 
 these flowing rivers, love like this bending 
 azure. Her young heart longed to find sym 
 pathy and companionship in such a state. 
 
 Naomi found that a complete silence was 
 
NAOMI. 
 
 63 
 
 observed in this patriarchal house. She crept 
 down stairs as far as the kitchen. No prepara 
 tion for breakfast or dinner was allowed by our 
 fathers to disturb the sacredness of the Sab 
 bath. The servants sat with their open Bibles 
 before them, while large logs mouldered in the 
 capacious chimney. Sambo, an old negro, the 
 only one without a book, for he could not read, 
 had crept under the overhanging chimney, en 
 joying the warmth grateful at the first chill of 
 autumn. They rose respectfully, both men and 
 women, and Sambo said, as an apology to a 
 stranger for their idleness, " Sabber day, Mis- 
 see, no busy ; no work, Sabber day ; all read, all 
 pray, all preach, Sabber day." 
 
 " And do we fast as well as pray, Sambo, on 
 the Sabbath day ? " 
 
 " Breakfast and dinner all baked," he said, 
 and pointed to the oven, where the dinner and 
 breakfast had been prepared before the setting 
 of the sun on the preceding afternoon. 
 
 I cannot attempt to describe the breakfast of 
 our forefathers ; that they were no ascetics the 
 lading of their vessels proves. Coffee and tea 
 were not yet common in Europe, much less in 
 the New World ; and, among all but laboring 
 people, the beef and ale breakfasts of an earlier 
 period had passed away. 
 
64 NAOMI. 
 
 Naomi lingered a few moments to converse 
 with Sambo, who was to her a completely new 
 specimen of the domestic servant. The African 
 features certainly confuse, if they do not over 
 turn, our previous theories of beauty. Sambo 
 was a short and very small negro, whose head 
 was wholly disproportioned to the diminutive 
 body. His hands and feet belonged to the head 
 rather than to the frail arms ; and the small legs 
 were set exactly in the middle of the foot, thus 
 resembling those instruments called scrapers, in 
 tended to remove the mud from gutters. His 
 complexion was intensely black, resembling pol 
 ished ebony ; and the closely-curled, wiry, woolly 
 hair was beginning around the temples and fore 
 head to turn snow-white, so that it appeared 
 crowned with a wreath of white paper, or of 
 orange blossoms, placed just above the ears. 
 His thick lips disclosed the ivory of his teeth, 
 and in proportion to the protuberance of the 
 lips was the robbery they had committed upon 
 the nose, filching from it its just and beautiful 
 proportions. 
 
 I have said above that the African features 
 confuse and confound all our previous ideas of 
 beauty. Sambo was the very soul of loyalty, 
 chivalry, fidelity, affection. His love was bound 
 less ; his devotion to those he loved went to the 
 
NAOMI. 65 
 
 utmost limits of his strength and ingenuity ; and 
 yet how could those poor, deformed features 
 express these noble sentiments ? Even the full, 
 expressive eye of the dog, melting as it often 
 is, is denied to the African, as we see him in 
 his degraded form. Ah ! the time will come 
 when he will wear the form of a seraph, and 
 put on his robes of beauty. 
 
 Sambo was a captive, he could hardly be 
 called a slave ; for that word seems to imply 
 a feeling of degradation, and Sambo had no 
 such feeling. Indeed, the Africans belonging to 
 the families of our ancestors in Massachusetts 
 held a peculiar, almost an anomalous, situation 
 there. No slavery was ever so light as that 
 in many old families in Massachusetts, and no 
 slaves ever so indulged. Their place resembled 
 very much that which was held by the fool 
 or jester in the households of princes in the 
 ancient feudal times ; they were allowed pecu 
 liar license, and treated with great familiarity, 
 with the indulgence of children, but, alas for 
 them ! without the permanent ties that hold par 
 ents to their children ; often with the favor of 
 favorites, perhaps often, also, with the capri- 
 ciousness that attends favoritism. 
 
 Sambo was the only member of Mr. Alder- 
 sey s family that was admitted by him to terms 
 5 
 
66 NAOMI. 
 
 of perfect equality, because he knew that all 
 his imposing qualities were lost upon poor 
 Sambo. He could neither read nor write, 
 scarcely could he say his prayers, and any ex 
 cess of sanctimoniousness, any addition of spir 
 itual pride, seemed to Sambo only low spirits 
 or melancholy in his master, and he instantly 
 strove, with childlike gayety, or as with the 
 gambols of a faithful animal, to dissipate the 
 work of supererogation. 
 
 If Sambo had been asked if he belonged to 
 Mr. Aldersey, he would have been puzzled to 
 answer. Mr. Aldersey, according to his views, 
 belonged much more to him than he to Mr. 
 Aldersey ; and the feeling of proprietorship ex 
 tended to every thing else, to the house and 
 the furniture, to the horses and domestic ani 
 mals ; even the human inmates were his. The 
 innocent vanity, the naive pride, with which 
 he gloried in every addition to the family, was 
 amusingly augmented by the arrival of Naomi. 
 Her beauty and her reputed wealth added vast 
 importance to poor Sambo, for he instantly 
 adopted and took Naomi under his patronage, 
 and this morning s conversation placed the seal 
 upon the previously contemplated protection on 
 the part of Sambo. 
 
 Soon after breakfast was ended, the quiet of 
 
NAOMI. 67 
 
 the little town was broken by the sound of 
 many footsteps. The hour for hastening to the 
 sanctuary had arrived, that hour of the great 
 solace, of the dear and sacred employment ; 
 indeed it might be called the only hour of 
 recreation for our forefathers, that for which 
 they endured every hardship, and made every 
 sacrifice. This was the weekly period when 
 their souls were to be deeply moved ; excited to 
 fervor of devotion, or racked with deep met 
 aphysical speculations ; elevated to spiritual ex 
 ultation as they looked upon themselves as the 
 special favorites of Heaven, or moved to intol 
 erant aversion towards those who differed from 
 them. " God was their God ; they were the 
 favorites of the Most High, and those that dif 
 fered from them had no business there." " The 
 world was wide enough," they said j " let them 
 go elsewhere, and worship in their own way." 
 
 Those who are disposed to blame too severely 
 the exclusive and persecuting spirit of our fore 
 fathers should recollect with what labors and 
 sacrifices of wealth and life the life of the 
 noblest and the fairest ; the sacrifice of country 
 and many precious ties they had won this 
 privilege of worshipping God in their own way ; 
 of enjoying their Sabbaths and their seasons of 
 spiritual refreshment, free from molestation and 
 
68 NAOMI. 
 
 interruption. They had purchased twice over 
 their rockbound vineyard, where with infinite 
 trouble and toil they had planted their little 
 vine, the church. It had been made to take 
 root, and to live by the heavy sweat of their 
 honest brows ; its roots had been nourished by 
 their freely flowing blood ; it had been watered 
 by their heart-wrung tears ; the precious dews 
 of heaven had rested upon it ; and, now that 
 they could sit under its shadow to enjoy sweet 
 refreshment, should they leave gaps in the 
 hedges for every marauding enemy to enter ? 
 Should Ranters and Seekers, Brownists and 
 Quakers, have free entrance, to trample down 
 and pluck the precious fruits of their own vine ? 
 Should they allow Antinomians and heretics, 
 free-thinkers and Universalists, to graft strange 
 shoots upon their precious stock ? No, they had 
 a perfect right to drive them off, and to shut 
 and bar their gates against them ; and if such 
 returned with the same evil purposes, they must 
 be branded as thieves and vagrants, and, if they 
 could be restrained in no other way, imprisoned 
 and punished with the utmost severity. Thus 
 reasoned and thus acted the wisest of our fore 
 fathers. 
 
 When Mr. Aldersey s family joined the 
 thronging company in the streets, Naomi was 
 
NAOMI. 69 
 
 struck with the serious and stern aspect of the 
 gathering multitudes. Grave men, sweet, com 
 posed countenances of women, repressed gayety 
 in the children, all showed that the most earnest 
 concern of life was awaiting their presence in 
 their temple of worship. This was a large, 
 square, rough building, with a small belfry on 
 the roof, standing at a point, or rather forming 
 the centre, from which the principal streets di 
 verged. Time had not, as with the churches 
 to which Naomi had been accustomed, woven a 
 mantle of ivy and moss to conceal the imper 
 fections of the architecture, nor had the chang 
 ing seasons left a legacy of time-wrought em 
 broidery upon the naked shingles. They had 
 indeed attained a softened coloring from age, 
 the changes of seasons for thirty years having 
 left a rich tint of brown upon the unplaned 
 boards. 
 
 The interior corresponded with the outside. 
 There was no ornament upon the walls, nor 
 painted hue upon the diamond-paned windows. 
 The boarded walls and naked beams were the 
 work of poverty, and not of art ; but as the 
 boards were of oak, a richer tint was imparted 
 to the aspect within. The pulpit alone was 
 adorned with a crimson curtain, and the seat 
 of the governor distinguished by a rude canopy ; 
 
70 NAOMI. 
 
 the hour-glass, inclosed in a sort of wooden 
 frame, was a conspicuous ornament of the pulpit. 
 
 The congregation were not seated in families, 
 but according to their rank and civil distinction, 
 upon long seats divided in the centre by an 
 aisle, that separated the males and the females. 
 The elders and deacons, with snowy heads and 
 stern faces, sat beneath the pulpit, facing the 
 congregation ; they were the police-officers of 
 the church, and took note of every irregularity. 
 Little girls were permitted to sit with their 
 mothers, but the young people generally were 
 arranged in the front of the gallery ; boys were 
 tucked upon the stairs, with constables to check 
 every rising emotion, every outbreak of weari 
 ness or glee. 
 
 The distinctions of rank, the precedence taken 
 by the aristocracy of the country, the vast differ 
 ence in the dress of those who were the gentle 
 men and the working people of the community, 
 were infinitely greater than at the present day. 
 Silk and velvet was the common wear of gen 
 tlemen of the period, and when we consider the 
 picturesque fashion of the time of the Charleses, 
 modified indeed by the Puritans, but never ap 
 proaching even in them to the plainness of the 
 present day, we can imagine what contrasts 
 were presented in the aspect of the assembly, 
 
NAOMI. 71 
 
 the magistrates and the rich merchants in the 
 upper seats, with their velvet cloaks, their lace 
 ruffs or rich falling collars, and their servants, 
 and the laboring men, in leathern doublets and 
 woollen caps, ranged around the walls. The 
 building was crowded to every inch of its capac 
 ity, the aisles, the pulpit-stairs, the galleries. 
 Here was no altar, no picture, no mural mon 
 ument, no gilded inscription, no chandelier, no 
 velvet draperies ; but a sea of serious and up 
 turned faces. These bare walls, these rude 
 board seats, had been consecrated by the prayers 
 and tears, the trials and struggles, the sacred 
 and touching memories, of the Puritan pilgrims. 
 Here they entered into the church covenant, 
 that alone gave them the privileges of freemen, 
 and here only were the children of these free 
 men baptized into liberty. The civil well- 
 being, as well as the deepest feelings of the 
 human heart, clustered around these bare rafters 
 and naked walls. Devotion was the great sol 
 ace of the lives of our forefathers, and the nice 
 distinctions of metaphysical theology were the 
 employment of their leisure hours. 
 
 Under this poor raftered roof had the greatly 
 gifted, the learned and liberal, the winning and 
 courteous Cotton announced to laymen the opin 
 ions that influenced the policy of the government, 
 
72 NAOMI. 
 
 and here had he been followed to the grave 
 by the funeral wail of the country, from Ply 
 mouth to New Haven. Winthrop, the upright 
 magistrate, had here received those modest hon 
 ors within their gift. These had been the shin 
 ing lights, the guiding stars, of the colony, that 
 had lately gone down in the west and left a 
 gloom in the whole colony, especially over the 
 little community of Boston. 
 
 Naomi s entrance to the seat appointed for 
 her had been a little delayed by the governor 
 immediately preceding her, accompanied by his 
 halberdiers, who went before him with their 
 staves, and placed them one on each side of 
 his seat ; this was a voluntary service, and ren 
 dered with a free heart, unless some unpopular 
 act of the governor made them withhold the 
 honor. Mr. Aldersey drew the eyes of the con 
 gregation upon Naomi, by walking up to the 
 plate by the pulpit-stairs, and placing an addi 
 tional offering there, because his step-daughter 
 had been added to his family. As he returned 
 to his seat, the Rev. Mr. Wilson rose to pray, 
 and every sound was hushed, and every wander 
 ing eye-glance recalled and cast down. Then 
 followed the psalm, from the old version of 
 Sternhold and Hopkins, read and sung in single 
 lines. This break in the harmony was painful 
 
to a musical ear, but the windows of the house 
 were open, and the waving branches of trees 
 that were near the meeting-house supplied a 
 continual melody to Naomi s ear, that softened 
 the discords of inharmonious voices. 
 
 The Rev. John Norton rose to preach. His 
 deep-set and piercing eye seemed to search 
 the soul of every listener, and his voice, deep 
 and penetrating, arrested and riveted attention. 
 His people had lately observed a change in his 
 countenance ; a fixed melancholy had settled 
 upon his features ; perhaps he already felt the 
 shadow of the hand that only a few years af 
 terwards beckoned him silently and suddenly 
 away. This sermon was a violent denunciation 
 of the iniquity of the times, " like the iniquity 
 of Sodom, pride, fulness of bread, and abun 
 dance of idleness." He lamented the coldness 
 and corruption of the age, the idleness and fri 
 volity of the young men, and the selfishness and 
 degeneracy of their fathers ; the vanity and arts 
 of seduction of the women ; the long hair of the 
 men, the hoods and veils of the women. Ac 
 customed as Naomi was to regard outward sim 
 plicity as the expression of inward purity and 
 integrity, this insisting upon external conformity 
 to a mere sumptuary law seemed like the pol 
 ishing of the rind and husk of the fruit, when 
 the kernel was absent or worthless. 
 
74 NAOMI. 
 
 In the midst of the most interesting part of 
 his sermon, for the elder, the guardian of the 
 hour-glass, had just turned its running sand for 
 the second time, an appalling interruption to 
 one unprepared, as was Naomi, took place. The 
 door was suddenly thrown open, and two per 
 sons, clothed from head to foot in sackcloth, 
 their long hair streaming over their faces and 
 completely filled with ashes, and their faces 
 deathly pale, strode up the middle aisle and 
 placed themselves in front of the preacher. At 
 first they were silent. 
 
 Mr. Norton paused in his sermon, and said, 
 in a stern voice, " What do you here ? Chil 
 dren of the Devil, daughters of blasphemies, 
 and inheritors of lies ! what do you here ? 
 Depart from this sanctuary ! Turn from your 
 iniquities and your sins ! Repent of your her 
 esies and your evil doings ; for the great day 
 of wrath is coming upon you." They stood 
 perfectly unmoved, and the Rev. Mr. Norton 
 raised his voice still louder. " Depart," he said, 
 " children of the Devil, from this sanctuary of 
 the Lord, which you pollute with your blas 
 phemies ! " 
 
 One of the women then turned to the people, 
 and cried out, in a loud and piercing voice, 
 " Listen not, deluded people, to that wicked 
 

 NAOMI. 75 
 
 priest, John Norton ; that whited sepulchre, out 
 of whose mouth death feeds death, and whose 
 dry skeleton-bones contain no heart." 
 
 Naomi gazed at this horrible spectacle with 
 amazement and fear ; were these, then, she 
 thought, Quakers, owning the same simple and 
 beautiful faith that was her own ? And she 
 felt her knees trembling beneath her, and the 
 color forsake her lips and cheeks. 
 
 Governor Endicott was prompt in his meas 
 ures ; he gave a sign to the constables, who 
 were at this period the most respectable men 
 in the community, and the two women were 
 instantly conveyed away to prison. These and 
 such like interruptions from Quakers were so 
 frequent at this period, that this one produced 
 only a momentary excitement in the congre 
 gation. Not so with Naomi ; she felt that, oc 
 curring upon her first Sunday in her new home, 
 it was ominous to her of what was to follow. 
 She thought of her mother, and looked round, 
 as it were for protection ; a sense of faintness 
 came over her, and she would have fallen, had 
 not Faith, who sat not very far from her, grasp 
 ed her hand and recalled her to self-possession 
 before the observation of the audience was 
 turned towards her. 
 
 Naomi had completely regained her serenity 
 
76 NAOMI. 
 
 when the service was over, and the Rev. Mr. 
 Wilson had pronounced the blessing, with out 
 spread arms, over the waiting assembly. No 
 one moved, such was the respectful reverence 
 of the times, till the ministers and elders had 
 descended the aisle. They came with digni 
 fied and courteous demeanour, dispensing smiles 
 and kind inquiries to each of their flock. They 
 paused at the seat of Naomi, and greeted her 
 with paternal interest ; she was a lamb added 
 to the flock of which they were the shepherds. 
 There was a certain indefinable manner, a some 
 thing, even in this short greeting, that disclosed 
 the stern relation which existed between them ; 
 the position which they, as their undoubted 
 right, assumed towards her, and to which she, 
 on her part, was to submit as to her unques 
 tioning duty. 
 
 Even in this short interview she felt the 
 sharp, but at this moment the light, pressure 
 of that spiritual domination over conscience, 
 that, like an iron chain placed around a vigorous 
 tree, checks not its upward growth, but eats 
 into its very heart, and mars its expanding and 
 symmetrical beauty. 
 
 The congregation followed the steps of the 
 teachers, and now again the narrow and wind 
 ing streets of the little town were full of the 
 
NAOMI. 77 
 
 worshipping people, all, with silent steps and 
 deeply meditative faces, seeking their well- 
 ordered homes. No joyous children gambolled 
 their satisfaction at the conclusion of the tedious 
 service ; their joy was silent, but, we may well 
 believe, sincerer than at the present day, when 
 the restraint is so light and short ; no worldly 
 footsteps were bent towards the post-office, or 
 the news-rooms ; no loving pairs sought the 
 shaded retirement of the common, then, as now, 
 attractive in verdant beauty. No, they went 
 to their homes to read and pray j to meditate 
 upon the sermon, and prepare to make it the 
 discussion of the Monday morning, when the 
 merchants met in the market-place, and of 
 the Monday evening, when their wives met 
 at that rare luxury, the tea-table, and mingled 
 theology with the e very-day affairs of life, as 
 the only vital and ever-interesting subject. 
 
 At the close of the afternoon service a scene 
 occurred, so characteristic of the time and of the 
 community that it deserves a record. A case 
 of church discipline had been announced the 
 preceding Sunday, and the parties summoned 
 to appear before the ministers and elders. This 
 was a breach of a promise of marriage, brought 
 against a young man, a member, of the church, 
 one distinguished for his exemplary walk and 
 
78 NAOMI. 
 
 conversation, his formal observance of the Sab 
 bath, and preeminence in all pious exercises, and 
 of course belonging to the fashionable circle. 
 The complaint was made by the family of the 
 young lady. Although they were reputed 
 wealthy, neither the mother of the young lady 
 nor the lady herself was a member of the 
 church. It was an unusual and rare occurrence 
 for a member of the church to seek an alliance 
 with one out of its pale ; but the father of the 
 young lady was reputed wealthy, and she was 
 an only child. He had lately met with mis 
 fortunes, and subsequently the match was broken 
 off. The father, exasperated at what he con 
 sidered an injury and insult to his daughter, 
 brought the circumstances before the church 
 to be tried, as it were, at the ecclesiastical 
 court of the ministers and elders. Now it ap 
 peared in evidence that the engagement had 
 been broken off, on the part of the gentleman, 
 immediately after the misfortunes of the father 
 of his bride, and without alleging any cause 
 but the want of piety on the part of the young 
 lady. She was not in a state of grace, he said. 
 It was forbidden in Scripture for the believer 
 to yoke with the unbeliever. 
 
 The young, girl herself, overwhelmed with 
 confusion and outraged modesty, had most re- 
 
NAOMI. 79 
 
 luctantly consented to this public exposure. 
 She stood with pale cheek and trembling, blanch 
 ed lips, betraying, perhaps, a deep and heartfelt 
 interest in her faithless lover, that she would 
 fain have concealed, while he, with spiritual 
 pride, affected to lament his conscientious scru 
 ples. " Had she, alas ! had any convictions of 
 sin, had she been only touched with repen 
 tance, with the hope of conversion, with any 
 signs of grace," he said, " her person would 
 have been as precious in his eyes as her soul ; 
 for God knew he had prayed day and night for 
 her conversion." 
 
 This was a most delicate and difficult subject 
 for the ministers to legislate upon. Neither 
 Moses nor Paul had given any precise directions 
 to guide their decision in such a case. It could, 
 indeed, have been determined by every man of 
 honor, and every woman of feeling, from the 
 dictates of their own hearts. Cotton probably 
 would have refused to legislate upon such a 
 case, and Winthrop to record it in his annals ; 
 but, as we have said above, a rougher and sterner 
 race of men had succeeded to the first chival 
 rous age. The ministers and elders were divid 
 ed in opinion, and the shades of evening began 
 to envelop the building, and the waving branch 
 es of the trees around the meeting-house began 
 
80 NAOMI. 
 
 to cast uncertain and mysterious shadows within 
 it, before they could arrive at any unanimity 
 of opinion. At length it was decided to adjourn 
 the debate till the next Thursday, after the Lec 
 ture, and the young man and young woman 
 were commended as subjects of prayer to every 
 member of the church. 
 
 Arrived again at home, Naomi found that the 
 Sabbath and its instructions were not yet ended. 
 Mr. Aldersey was exemplary in all the duties 
 that the strictness of the times demanded from 
 every head of a family. 
 
 Before the slight repast of the evening was 
 prepared or partaken of, every member of the 
 family was summoned to catechizing and the 
 evening worship, which, at the going down of 
 the sun, closed the sacred observance of the Sab 
 bath. No one was excused from this family 
 service ; neither the clerks of the store and 
 counting-house, nor the oldest servants in the 
 kitchen. Sambo, who could not read, was 
 exempted from learning the catechism by heart ; 
 but he always stood behind his master s chair, 
 with the open Bible in his hand, trying to spell 
 the words as Mr. Aldersey read them aloud. 
 He kept up, in an undertone, a sort of running 
 commentary upon the instructions that were 
 given. This evening the chapter that Mr. Al- 
 
NAOMI. 81 
 
 dersey read contained the beautiful incident 
 of the poor widow who cast all her living into 
 the treasury. Sambo inquired into the form 
 and use of the treasury. Mr. Aldersey ex 
 plained that it was a large chest to receive the 
 tribute. Tribute was entirely unintelligible to 
 Sambo ; but he said he hoped it was not very 
 cold weather when the poor widow threw in 
 her two mittens. (He had taken the idea from 
 his own spelling.) This mistake of poor Sam 
 bo diffused a general titter among the clerks 
 and the maid-servants ; though as Mr. Alder 
 sey had not heard a word of Sambo s blunder, 
 but passed it all over as his general commen 
 tary, he went on to exhort upon the unsatisfac 
 tory nature of all riches, and that the Bible 
 enjoined not only poverty of spirit, but a cer 
 tain degree of poverty in outward things. 
 
 As Mr. Aldersey left the room, after the de 
 votions were finished, Sambo followed him, and 
 said, with a peculiar twinkle in his eye, as he 
 looked up cunningly, " Now, Massa, you going 
 count up, see how much richer you are to-day 
 than last Sabber day." 
 
CHAPTER VI. 
 
 " Lo ! a new race, an iron-hearted band, 
 The banished wanderers from a distant land ; 
 These sweet religion s sacred flag unfurled, 
 And bade it float to bless another world." 
 
 WHEN we read at this distance of time the 
 quaint and homely annalists of our early age, 
 we are apt to think something low and vulgar 
 must have attached itself to the appearance and 
 manners of our forefathers. We are misled by 
 the dry and skeleton narratives of the times, 
 where the bare facts, in all their harsh outline, 
 are recorded, neither clothed by corroborating 
 circumstances, nor softened by the sympathies 
 of unrecorded emotion. Winthrop s Journal, to 
 any but an historian or an antiquary, is like the 
 stripped and chilled forest in a wintry day, with 
 here and there only a verdant twig, to show 
 that it was a noble grove full of energy and 
 life ; but Winthrop s letters to his wife are 
 among the most graceful and touching compo 
 sitions that have ever been written, showing 
 that he was a noble, a courteous, a generous, 
 and chivalrous gentleman. The manners and 
 
NAOMI. 83 
 
 sentiments of the best of our forefathers bore 
 the stamp of the best of English society in that 
 age of luxury and far-advanced civilization. To 
 their high religious and moral qualities, they 
 added learning and accomplishments. They 
 came from among the nobility and the church, 
 and although Puritans, those who first came 
 to Boston had not thrown off their allegiance 
 to the church, and were not at that time the 
 rigid non-conformists that they afterwards be 
 came. 
 
 The ministers, also, were among the most ac 
 complished of the sons of the church. They 
 had been educated at the Universities, and were 
 among the first scholars of Cambridge and Ox 
 ford. Some of them had been chaplains in 
 noble families, and had formed intimate friend 
 ships with the ladies of those families. Al 
 though stern, uncompromising, even terrible, in 
 the pulpit, their manners in private life were 
 distinguished by an elegant courteousness ; with 
 ladies it might be called a delicate and refined 
 flattery. They were learned even to pedantry ; 
 ever ready with classical quotations, and much 
 addicted to that species of wit called punning. 
 Anagrams, also, were a favorite exercise of their 
 ingenuity, by which they contrived to convey 
 a delicate eulogy, which the simple name could 
 
84 NAOMI. 
 
 not express. If the position they occupied in 
 the New World gave to their manners some 
 what the air of superiority and dictatorial de 
 cision, it was an assumption so wholly unques 
 tioned, a superiority so universally admitted, 
 that they took precedence as by a divine right. 
 
 Naomi knew this, and was not surprised, 
 therefore, when, the next day, the teachers and 
 pastors of the Boston churches there were now 
 two and the ministers of the neighbouring 
 churches came to welcome her arrival, to find 
 them perfect gentlemen, with a courteous polite 
 ness to ladies, a free and unrestrained pleas 
 antry among themselves, with sparkling repartee 
 and wit. 
 
 The Rev. Mr. Wilson was the earliest visitor, 
 now somewhat advanced in age, but yet distin 
 guished by that sweetness of character and man 
 ner that caused him to be universally beloved. 
 This epitaph, a few years later, bore nor false nor 
 too flattering testimony to his urbanity. It was 
 written in reference to his peculiar habit of turn 
 ing every name into an anagram. 
 
 "JOHN WILSON. 
 
 " O, change it not! no sweeter name nor thing, 
 Throughout the world, within our ears shall ring." 
 
 Soon after came the Rev. John Norton, a dark- 
 
NAOMI. 85 
 
 complexioned and somewhat stern-looking man, 
 others of the most noted inhabitants, and some 
 of the ministers of the adjoining towns. Boston 
 was the centre of attraction at that time, as it 
 now is, because of the market held every week, 
 and the Thursday Lecture, although it had not 
 the preeminence over Charlestown, Roxbury, 
 Newtown, and Dorchester that it afterwards 
 attained. The conversation was animated, en 
 livened with wit, and frequently garnished by 
 allusions to classical subjects. The ministers 
 even ventured upon Latin quotations, apologiz 
 ing, however, to Naomi whenever this occurred. 
 At the present day such apology would not be 
 requisite ; but now, when the ladies are taught 
 Latin, gentlemen rarely venture upon a quota 
 tion for their benefit. 
 
 It was in the colony a most interesting time 
 with regard to the mother country. Charles had 
 just been restored to his throne, and, as I have 
 said before, rumors had reached Boston of his 
 displeasure at the treatment of the Quakers. 
 Home, as England was then called, although 
 with no expectation of ever returning there as to 
 a home, was the place to which all referred, 
 as to the supreme umpire in opinion. What 
 will be said at home ? what will be thought at 
 home ? was the question that every one men- 
 
86 NAOMI. 
 
 tally asked. No one can read the records and 
 letters of the time, without perceiving the ex 
 treme anxiety of the colonists to be thought 
 well of in the mother country. 
 
 The conversation soon turned upon the ab 
 sorbing subject of interest, the Quakers, and 
 the terrible interruption of public worship yes 
 terday. The ministers had observed Naomi s 
 terror, but had mistaken its cause. Now again 
 blazed forth the bitter spirit of persecution. 
 The Rev. Mr. Norton, in the violence of his 
 invective, cried out, " O, hang them ! hang them 
 
 all ! or ," and he made the sign of the axe 
 
 across his throat. 
 
 " Ah ! " cried another of the most intolerant, 
 " I would not soil my hands with them ; but I 
 should be well content to see them riding to 
 hell upon the shoulders of the Anabaptists." 
 
 Naomi ventured to lift up her voice ; she said 
 she condemned all their extravagances, and ab 
 horred such an exhibition as they made yes 
 terday in the church, but she thought their 
 tenets were harmless when kept only as a solace 
 within one s own breast. 
 
 There was a silence after this, and the min 
 isters looked at each other. Naomi had ex 
 pressed a dangerous heresy, but still they were 
 unwilling, upon this their first interview, to 
 
NAOMI. 87 
 
 treat her rudely. The Rev. Mr. Wilson said, 
 " Ah ! my dear young lady, you plead the cause 
 of the roaring lion, seeking whom he may de 
 vour, with the tender voice of the lamb. There 
 can be 710 harmless Quaker ; we must destroy 
 them, as we do the dangerous beast, the poison 
 ous reptile." 
 
 Naomi was silent ; she felt her heart sink 
 within her. Her dejection was observed, and 
 the Rev. Mr. Norton, to call back her thoughts, 
 began to make pleasant remarks upon the He 
 brew signification of her name. " Naomi, beauti 
 ful-sweet " ; it could only become Marah, bitter , 
 he said, whenever she should think of leav 
 ing them. 
 
 Soon after, they took leave, courteously and 
 pleasantly, but the ministers resolved in their 
 hearts to observe Naomi more closely. 
 
CHAPTER VII. 
 
 " Take, then, my prayer, ye dwellers of this spot : 
 Be yours a noiseless and a guiltless lot, 
 Free from the tyrants of the hour, 
 The clans of wealth, the clans of power, 
 The coarse, cold scorners of their God ; 
 
 Free from the taint of sin, 
 
 The leprosy that feeds within, 
 And free, in mercy, from the bigot s rod. 
 
 Be purity of life the test, 
 
 Leave to the heart, to Heaven, the rest." 
 
 SPRAGUE. 
 
 MY readers must not suppose that elders, 
 teachers, and ministers were the only visitors 
 who paid the respect of a visit to the newly 
 arrived. The good dames and the young ladies 
 of the town all hastened to see the person 
 whose safe voyage had been announced the day 
 before by a note of thanks from the pulpit. 
 Attracted by sympathy and good-will, and no 
 less by curiosity to observe the last fashion of 
 dress from the mother country, they left Naomi 
 hardly a day, during the first fortnight, without 
 a succession of visitors. The simplicity of her 
 own dress was the subject of excessive and 
 almost incredulous surprise. It was just the 
 
NAOMI. 89 
 
 intervening period in England between the far- 
 thinggale (hoop), the monstrous starched ruff of 
 Queen Elizabeth, and the studied negligence 
 and elegant dishabille of the reign of Charles 
 the Second. Naomi was dressed in a full silk, 
 of what is now a quiet color, that is, not a 
 rich nor striking tint, with full sleeves, de 
 scending a few inches below the elbow, where 
 they were confined by a band, leaving the snowy 
 arm uncovered to the wrist. A broad falling 
 collar of lace, called a vandyke, covered the 
 neck and shoulders, and the hair was in natural 
 curls around the temples and neck. Naomi s 
 hair was soft and silky, and just waved in a 
 natural undulation ; she had at this time fold 
 ed and collected it behind with a bodkin, giv 
 ing to the form of the head much the fashion 
 of the present day. 
 
 This simple costume was, in fact, the latest 
 fashion ; but to the good dames of Boston it 
 seemed ridiculously plain, accustomed as they 
 were to 
 
 " Chains, coronets, pendants, bracelets, ear-rings ; 
 Pins, girdles, spangles, embroideries, and rings ; 
 Shadows, rebatoes, ribbons, ruffs, cuffs, falls, 
 Scarfs, feathers, fans, masks, muffs, laces, cauls, 
 Thin tiffany, cobweb lawn, and fardengals, 
 Sweet falls, vayles, wimples, glasses, crispen pins, 
 Coyfes, gorgets, fringes, rowles, fillets, and hair laces, 
 Silks, damasks, velvets, tinsels, cloth of gold, 
 And tissues of colors of a hundred fold/ 
 
90 NAOMI. 
 
 The young people of Boston, both male and 
 female, were never weary of asking Naomi 
 questions about the mother country, and those 
 who were placed on high, in stations of honor, 
 were the principal subjects of their curiosity, 
 the profligate but still fascinating Charles, the 
 ladies of the court, Mistress Nell Gwynn, of 
 whom exaggerated tales had reached the little 
 Puritan town. There was a peculiar fascination 
 presented by the strong contrasts that existed 
 at this time in manners and morals, often bring 
 ing together in the New World the extremes 
 of Puritan asceticism on one side, and profligate 
 indulgence on the other. 
 
 " Is it true," asked one of the young ladies, 
 " that they have left all stays and stomachers 
 at court, and appear in full dress, with only 
 a sort of loose bed-gown, made, indeed, of silks 
 and brocades, and trimmed with jewels and 
 ribbons ? " 
 
 Naomi said she had never been at court, but 
 she believed negligence and ease had come into 
 fashion, and that a lady could recline upon a 
 couch in full dress, instead of standing bolt 
 upright, as they did in the days of Q,ueen 
 Elizabeth. 
 
 " Ah ! " said a young gentleman present, " the 
 best of all is, they have got the players back. 
 
NAOMI. 91 
 
 Glorious Will Shakspeare treads the boards 
 again. Ah ! that s what I would go home for, 
 to see one of his plays acted." And turning 
 to Naomi, he asked abruptly, " Have you been 
 at the playhouse ? " 
 
 There was a general look of consternation 
 among the stricter portion of the company. 
 Naomi was spared answering, by some one ask 
 ing, at the same moment, " Had she been much 
 at the Episcopal church ? " Naomi had been to 
 no other till after she had heard the preaching 
 of George Fox. Her father s relatives, among 
 whom she lived, were all for the king and the 
 church ; but Naomi could answer that she did 
 not now go to church. 
 
 " Well," said the young gentleman, the ad 
 vocate of the playhouse, " I can tell you a good 
 story and a true one, for it happened in the 
 family of one of my relations. Mr. Winthrop, 
 the son of the governor, kept a great many 
 books in an upper chamber in his house, among 
 them a book of common prayer and the psalms 
 of David bound together. Well, the rats, that 
 were fond of visiting the library for their own 
 delectation, seized hold of the common prayer 
 and devoured every leaf, while the precious 
 psalms remained untouched. Now what do 
 you think of that ? " he said, turning to Naomi. 
 
92 NAOMI. 
 
 " Does it not prove that the prayer-book of the 
 church ought to be destroyed, and that Prov 
 idence will help the work by senseless beasts 
 and vermin ? " 
 
 " I think it proves nothing, but that the hon 
 orable Winthrop did not keep a cat," said 
 Naomi. 
 
 " Or," said one of the gentlemen, " that the 
 prayer-book had been so much turned over, by 
 not the neatest fingers in the world, not by the 
 gloved hands of young ladies, but by some right 
 reverend who loved a good dinner, that it had 
 acquired a savory and oily flavor, more inviting 
 to the epicure rats than the clean pages of the 
 psalms." 
 
 Naomi smiled ; she thought it was the true 
 solution of the miracle, but she was surprised 
 to find so much freedom of speech upon the 
 very spot of strictest Puritanism. 
 
 Prom fashion and the prayer-book, the con 
 versation turned upon the Quakers, the all-absorb 
 ing subject at this period ; for, let the conver 
 sation take what course it would, it generally 
 terminated by a dispute on the subject of the 
 persecution of the Quakers. There was already 
 a strong party in Boston, principally among the 
 least rigid of the Puritans, who opposed the 
 spirit of persecution, and believed the Quakers 
 
NAOMI. 93 
 
 themselves would never molest Boston, were it 
 not for the pleasure of notoriety and an eager 
 desire for martyrdom. 
 
 " We will soon show you how we treat 
 strangers," said one of these to Naomi ; " you 
 will soon see a specimen of our politeness to 
 strangers, especially of your own sex ; you will 
 think perhaps that the days of chivalry have 
 revived on this side of the water, when you see, 
 perhaps at your next walk in the street, one of 
 your own sex, as young, as tender, almost as 
 delicate as yourself, tied to a cart-tail, and fol 
 lowed by a rabble of boys and men, pelted with 
 rotten apples and " 
 
 Seeing Naomi turn pale as death, he suddenly 
 paused, and did not go on to complete the hor 
 rible picture of woman s bare shoulders " all 
 gashed and gory." 
 
 "Do you know," said one of the young 
 ladies to Naomi, " that, when I first saw you, 
 I thought you were a Quaker ? " 
 
 " Why so ? " asked Naomi, the color return 
 ing to her cheeks. 
 
 " Well," said the other, " if you will not be 
 offended, because your dress was so plain, and 
 a certain composed air. To be sure you do not 
 say thee and thou, and you go to- meeting ; but 
 you know there are many who do not disap- 
 
94 NAOMI. 
 
 prove some of the tenets of the Quakers, and 
 though these do not come out openly in their 
 favor, and do not avow their own sentiments, 
 they seem to me like wolves in sheep s clothing." 
 
 " Naomi is more like a lamb of the flock," 
 said a young gentleman who stood by, " and 
 she has not yet lost her beautiful ears " ; for he 
 observed that they were crimsoned, as was her 
 whole countenance. 
 
 Naomi smiled, and said, in answer to the re 
 mark of the lady, "If you have no better rea 
 son than the plainness of my dress, you must 
 make all the court ladies Quakers, and all who 
 adopt the new fashion." 
 
 There was a general laugh. Some of them 
 imagined Mistress Gwynn a Quaker, and her 
 beautiful shoulders scarred with the hangman s 
 whip, and in the general hilarity that always 
 somehow or other takes place when young 
 people of both sexes, whether they be Puritans 
 or the reverse, are collected together, Naomi s 
 embarrassment escaped immediate observation, 
 although it was well remembered against her 
 in after days. 
 
 After becoming acquainted with the good 
 people of Boston, Naomi endeavoured to become 
 acquainted with Boston itself. At the risk of 
 tiring my readers by repetition, I must impress 
 
NAOMI. 95 
 
 upon them that no locality upon the face of 
 the earth could be more beautiful to the eye 
 of taste, than the picturesque aspect of this 
 little town. 
 
 Embraced in the arms of its transparent and 
 azure bay, while its beautiful breastwork of 
 hills rose so high as to shelter it from the force 
 of angry waves when tempests raged, and back 
 ed by its amphitheatre of gently swelling em 
 inences, its Charlestown, Newtown, Roxbury, 
 and Matapan, for ever standing sentinels around 
 the sacred spot, it seemed as if Providence had 
 reserved this lovely peninsula, had cleared it 
 from hostile foes, and then had " sifted the 
 nations," to send a chosen few to people it. 
 God reserved the place for the people, and se 
 lected the people for the place. 
 
 In 1659 and 1660, the date of our narrative, 
 the town had greatly increased in wealth and 
 beauty. The principal houses of the tradesmen 
 and gentry were around the market-place, where 
 is now the old state-house. The highway, the 
 principal road into the country, what is now 
 Washington Street, was the great thoroughfare 
 for country business ; but large and handsome 
 houses had also been built on Common Street, 
 Hanover Street, and the North Square. These 
 houses were not crowded as in our modern 
 
96 NAOMI. 
 
 city, but were spacious dwellings, surrounded 
 by " greens," gardens, and orchards. The Rev. 
 Mr. Wilson had large orchards attached to his 
 house. Rev. Mr. Cotton s house had been built 
 by Sir Henry Vane, and presented to him by 
 that nobleman when he returned to England. 
 It stood on Common Street, near the spot where 
 is now the Albion hotel, and was ascended 
 by a flight of steps, and surrounded by fruit-trees 
 and gardens. 
 
 None of the elevations and undulations of the 
 natural arena had yet been levelled for the sake 
 of more commodious streets. Wharves had been 
 built out, and foot-bridges thrown over the 
 running waters and the creeks, that dissected 
 the place and gave it its refreshing aspect of 
 streams of running water. The streets followed 
 the curves of the valleys, and sometimes ascend 
 ed the elevations, so that whoever traversed 
 Boston must follow the nursery song, 
 
 " Here we go up, up, up, 
 Here we go, down, down, down." 
 
 There were many beautiful overhanging thick 
 ets close to the streets, filled with hanging branch 
 es, and the whole of Beacon hill was covered 
 with a dense shrubbery of wild plants, inter 
 spersed with low pines and cedar-bushes. It 
 
NAOMI. 97 
 
 was also full of springs of water, which, at the 
 breaking up of winter, after they had been fed 
 with the winter s snow, overflowed and became 
 little cascades, leaping from height to height upon 
 the declivities of Beacon hill. A path had been 
 cleared with steps leading to the beacon, around 
 which were placed some rude benches ; but all 
 else retained the inexpressible charm of primi 
 tive wildness, and in a summer s morning a de 
 lightful fragrance arose upon the dewy air, the 
 mingled odors of hundreds of wild plants in 
 digenous to this favored spot. At the foot of 
 Beacon hill lay the training-field or common, 
 having much the aspect from that height which 
 it has at present. For although it was not pol 
 ished and regular as at the present day, the 
 primeval trees of the forest waved over the 
 green sward, as they had been left in irregular 
 groups and masses. 
 
 This half-rural, half-fortified, and wholly 
 peaceful and prosperous town possessed for Na 
 omi an inexpressible charm. Boston was at 
 this time worthy, as it has ever since been, of 
 the deep love, the strongest and most respectful 
 attachment, of its sons and daughters. Who 
 would not be proud of its origin and its history ? 
 All the people were the children of the town, 
 7 
 
98 NAOMI. 
 
 and until the Quaker madness none had been 
 oppressed. 
 
 It is true, Mrs. Hutchinson and her followers 
 had been banished ; but banished only from this 
 soil and territory. The wide country was open 
 to them ; they could go elsewhere and enjoy 
 their own tenets, and teach them elsewhere. 
 The fathers of Boston wished no mischievous, 
 busy, interfering woman in their united house 
 hold, slandering the most honored members of 
 their large family, and they denied her a lodging- 
 place in any of the chambers of their family 
 mansion. They were not capable of that wide 
 and indiscriminate hospitality of him of Merry 
 Mount,* which admitted heretics, thieves, and 
 wassailers into his domestic circle. They were 
 not Inquisitors ; they did not burn her for her 
 heresies ; they merely turned her from their 
 premises, and shut the door in her face. 
 
 Until the year preceding that of which we 
 write, no forfeiture of life for opinions had stained 
 the annals of the colony. " Hardly a nation of 
 Europe has yet made its criminal law as humane 
 as that of Massachusetts until this period." f 
 Until this time the laws of Boston had been 
 
 * See the account of Morton, in the annals of the time. 
 t Bancroft. 
 
NAOMI. 99 
 
 the unwritten code of the Christian heart. On 
 that beautiful bay no blood of Abel cried out 
 against- his brother, till the Quakers, whom our 
 fathers called the children of the Devil, thrust 
 themselves, with their wild blasphemies, into the 
 midst, to try men s souls. 
 
 Boston had never since its foundation been 
 more prosperous than at this time. Cromwell 
 had favored New England. Commerce was 
 flourishing beyond all precedent ; for " all goods 
 imported to or from Massachusetts were free 
 from all custom, taxation, or duty, either inward 
 or outward." They were at peace with the In 
 dians ; the Pequots had been subdued. Charles 
 had returned to the throne of his fathers, but 
 Massachusetts was sufficiently loyal. They did 
 not yet tremble for the loss of their charter, 
 or for fear of royal governors. It seemed as 
 though the Quaker irruption, as it might be 
 called, was permitted by Providence to try their 
 souls, to see how far prosperity had hardened 
 their hearts, or how far their own religious 
 privileges had made them forgetful of the con 
 sciences of others. On this clear and beautiful 
 horizon- we have just sketched, a little cloud 
 arose, " no bigger than a man s hand," but it 
 ascended and spread till it enveloped the whole 
 country in gloom. 
 
100 NAOMI. 
 
 Naomi, as I have said, was charmed with the 
 external aspect of her new home. She had 
 scarcely been there two weeks when she as 
 cended the steps that led to the summit of Bea 
 con hill, to take a birdseye view of the whole 
 environment. When she looked upon the bay, 
 it was dotted all over with boats passing from 
 Cambridge, from Charlestown, Dorchester, and 
 from various other points ; for this placid expanse 
 of water was not then covered with a network 
 of bridges, and the perpetual passage of boats 
 and darting of the Indian canoe gave a life and 
 animation to the scene quite unknown to us. 
 Beside the ferry-boats constantly passing from 
 point to point, many gentlemen kept boats rowed 
 by their own servants, and had they been gon 
 dolas, Boston would have been almost a min 
 iature Yenice. If the water was alive, the 
 land-side presented to Naomi a picture of beauti 
 ful repose ; the flocks and herds of cattle, 
 feeding upon the lonely meadows of Brookline, 
 shaded by large timber-trees, with scattered 
 cottages upon the rising ground ; the town of 
 Roxbury, clustering around its rocks and nes 
 tling in its hills, its meeting-house upon a con 
 spicuous height ; the modest college on the plain 
 of Cambridge ; the fresh-springing husbandry 
 and peaceful wigwams of the Indians at Nonan- 
 
NAQMI. 101 
 
 turn; the gracefully eleyateci ..land jipoa the 
 north, now known as Breed s, Bunker, and Pros 
 pect hills ; the full-swelling, all-embracing sea ; 
 and her heart bounded with exultation and grat 
 itude. She saw that " the land was blessed by 
 the blessing of Heaven above, and the blessing 
 of the deep beneath j blessed by the dew upon 
 the mountains, and the deep that coucheth 
 beneath. 
 
 While Naomi stood upon the summit of Bea 
 con hill, the shrill sound of drums and fifes rose 
 upon the calm air, and soon the more emphatic 
 voice of " loud-babbling guns " was heard. As 
 she descended the easier slope of the southern 
 side, she saw the training-field, or common, 
 covered with people. The " great artillery com 
 pany " was in the field ; also many other com 
 panies, armed with firelock or pike. It was one 
 of the training-days, so frequent in the early part 
 of our history. Scarcely any condition of rank 
 or age exempted the people from the duty of be 
 ing thus prepared for the defence of their families 
 and their firesides, when Indian foes were all 
 around, and the duty of protecting the country 
 was next to the duty of worshipping God. 
 
 As Naomi passed the side of the field, separated 
 from her only by a fence of rails, it was a solemn 
 and impressive sight ; the captain of each com- 
 
102 NAOMI. 
 
 . ** t / 
 
 pa&y :h&d Called . his /soldiers into close order, 
 and, with every head bent upon a pike or a 
 musket, each was at prayer at the head of his 
 company. As the murmur of their voices 
 reached Naomi, there was something deeply im 
 pressive and beautiful in this act of the citizen 
 soldiers, in arms to protect their homes and their 
 country, but relying upon the aid of a higher 
 power. Prayer preceded and followed the thun 
 der of the great artillery. Their preparation for 
 battle was a religious preparation, for they be 
 lieved themselves, like the Israelites of old, or 
 dained to drive out the heathen before them, 
 and to take possession of the country. 
 
 As Naomi naturally hesitated at such a mo 
 ment to cross the training-field alone, she re 
 traced her steps in order to pass through what 
 is now called School Street, to her home in 
 Washington Street. As she turned into School 
 Street, she saw an immense crowd of men, boys, 
 and even a few women, filling the whole breadth 
 of the street, around a guard of soldiers with 
 drums, that to her sounded lugubrious, like the 
 muffled drum of death. She was going to meet 
 one of those atrocious processions that too often 
 disgraced the highways of the country. In the 
 midst of the crowd was an ox-cart drawn by two 
 oxen, with two innocent women innocent of 
 
NAOMI. 103 
 
 every thing but Quakerism chained to the tail 
 of the cart, the sheriff and constable, both hon 
 ored men, on each side, with knotted whips, 
 charged to inflict the disgraceful torture of lac 
 erating the unprotected shoulders of these wo 
 men. One of the women was so aged that 
 it seemed as if her feeble veins could scarcely 
 spare the crimson drops that followed at every 
 lash of the whip. The other was young and 
 fair. Even here, in this most horrible exhibi 
 tion of dark bigotry and cruel power, a touching 
 circumstance softened it to the eye, while it 
 made the heart swell with mingled pity and 
 indignation. The young husband of the young 
 er victim, himself not a Quaker, walked close 
 to the cart, and, while his face was ashy pale 
 and tears streamed down his cheeks, at every 
 stroke, whenever the lash descended, he inter 
 posed his hat and his arm to spare the tender, 
 but already crimsoned, flesh of his young wife. 
 
 Naomi was fain to enter the first open door, 
 to hide from her the too horrible scene. An 
 inexpressible indignation and disgust, mingled 
 perhaps with fear, caused a nervous spasm, that 
 was only relieved by a burst of tears. 
 
 As -soon as the terrible procession had passed 
 she returned to her home, with many new and 
 painful feelings contending in her breast. Then 
 
104 NAOMI. 
 
 came the most distressing of all doubts, the 
 doubt whether she had acted rightly in coming 
 to America. Ought she thus to have thrust her 
 head between the jaws of the lion ? Ought she 
 not to have avowed the difference of her relig 
 ion, and taken the consequences, when she first 
 arrived ? But these questions arose from the 
 depressed state of her mind. She had obeyed 
 the voice of her mother and of her own heart 
 in coming, and it was in consequence of the 
 providence of God that she was left alone to 
 bear the responsibilities and the trials of her 
 new faith. Her heart disavowed that stern and 
 severe religion of the Puritans which enjoined per 
 secution, and forbade her to love those who dif 
 fered from her, and yet she could never partake 
 of or excuse the extravagances and follies, al 
 most the blasphemies, of the Quakers. 
 
 She felt herself alone, alone in the world and 
 alone in her religious faith, for she could not 
 sympathize or mingle with those who professed 
 the same faith that she believed, and the faith 
 of the Puritans repelled all the sympathies of her 
 soul. " For what, then," she thought, " shall I 
 labor to purify my affections and elevate my 
 soul ; why should I strive for a pure conscience, 
 for principles of rectitude and courage, for gen 
 erosity and love, for patience and calm en- 
 
NAOMI. 105 
 
 durance ? I, who am alone in the world, and 
 in all these precious attainments can find no sym 
 pathy." This feeling of utter loneliness drew 
 tears down her cheeks ; but soon the skeptical 
 hour and the skeptical thought passed away. 
 " God," she thought, " is knowledge and love. 
 He will see the open and transparent tablet of 
 my heart ; he will not leave me always alone. 
 He alone has seen my struggles ; he alone knows 
 the purity of the motives that have influenced 
 my course." 
 
CHAPTER VIII. 
 
 " There doth exist 
 
 A beauty boasting a perpetual prime, 
 That the destroyer s scythe has ever missed. 
 Age lays no wrinkle on its fair aspect, 
 Its sweet complexion ne er was known to fade, 
 It steals no grace from gauds wherewith t is decked ; 
 From cunning art it never looks for aid. 
 This quality, of such great eminence, 
 Hath for its name and title EXCELLENCE." 
 
 THE death of Naomi s mother had totally 
 changed for her the aspect of the New World, 
 and the horizon of her home. Did she find the 
 solace and comfort that could still render it an 
 agreeable and peaceful retreat ? Her step-father 
 was a man of outward forms, not of genuine 
 feeling. Although he treated her with all ex 
 ternal respect, Naomi soon discovered that he 
 was extremely jealous of any difference in opin 
 ion from himself. He had acquired the influ 
 ence he possessed in a certain course of formal 
 observances. He had long been a member of 
 the k church, a member of the General Court, 
 always at his post, and always for strenuous and 
 severe measures, a careful noter and shrewd 
 
NAOMI. 107 
 
 discoverer of all deviations from external obser 
 vances of morality. He made long prayers to 
 show his piety, and he kept the Sabbath strictly, 
 because he was a member of the church, and 
 would have lost caste otherwise. He deviated 
 in nothing from what was respectable and ex 
 pected in that community whose opinions ruled 
 his life. He was one of those blocks, squared 
 and polished and neatly fitted into the great 
 building of the commonwealth, but which ad 
 mitted no external flaw or irregularity where the 
 winds of heaven could lodge a chance and pre 
 cious seed, to spring up into a flower to adorn 
 and scent the surrounding air. 
 
 He never suspected that Naomi s mind was 
 more enlarged and nobler than his own, but he 
 felt a jealous uneasiness whenever she ventured 
 to differ from him, and an obstinate conviction 
 that she must be wrong. No conception had 
 ever entered his mind of that all-pervading love, 
 that could enfold all opinions within a divine 
 philanthropy ; that could soften all asperities, 
 as the atmosphere rounds the world and makes 
 equal the rugged mountain and the lowly 
 valley. 
 
 Naomi soon found there could be no confi 
 dence between them ; even friendship could not 
 exist upon his side, for he was totally unable 
 
108 NAOMI. 
 
 to appreciate the nobler qualities of her mind, 
 and how could he feel friendship for a person 
 of whom he was, although unconsciously, jeal 
 ous lest her superiority should betray his narrow 
 views ? She could only live peacefully with 
 her father-in-law (she thanked God the relation 
 was no nearer) by never expressing an opinion 
 that differed from his own, by silencing in his 
 presence every expanding emotion, every gen 
 erous purpose, by locking within her own 
 heart all those views that he pronounced vision 
 ary or immoral. 
 
 Mr. Aldersey s jealousy of his own authority 
 in the smallest things, as well as in those of con 
 sequence, made it difficult to preserve the respect 
 that Naomi thought due to her mother s hus 
 band. His will was as absolute in the fold 
 of a curtain, or the placing of a chair, as in 
 attention to the Sabbath, or the observance of 
 family prayers. He had a good deal of a little 
 mind, and entered into all the minutiae of family 
 affairs, bought the spices for his family and the 
 shoes for his clerks, attended to the cutting out 
 of the clothes of men-servants, and censured 
 the dress of the maids in his family. In short, 
 he was one of those cold, determined, obstinate, 
 yet meddling persons, with whom it is hard 
 to live, and yet difficult to assign a reason for 
 hating. 
 
NAOMI. 109 
 
 Ruth, the little daughter of her mother, was 
 distinguished only as a pretty and lively child ; 
 she had now attained her thirteenth year, and 
 Naomi had accepted the charge of her as a 
 sacred legacy from that dear mother. But Ruth 
 began to display a character of her own, that 
 would scarcely yield to Naomi s influence. The 
 little girl soon found that she possessed an as 
 cendency over her father, merely from the cir 
 cumstance of being his own daughter. Pre 
 cisely in proportion as a thing was his own, 
 was its value in the eyes of Mr. Aldersey. His 
 daughter belonged exclusively to himself. She 
 was a part of himself; her value in his eyes was 
 greater than that of his property, his farm, his 
 merchandise. She was more prized than any 
 thing except himself, his standing in the church, 
 his estimation in the community. Whatever 
 faults he was clear-sighted enough to discern in 
 Ruth were scarcely admitted by himself, much 
 less avowed to others. She had hitherto disclos 
 ed, indeed, only the faults of a petted child, but 
 she now began to display a strong will of her 
 own. She often opposed, and even stood out 
 against the mild expostulations of Naomi, and 
 it was easy to see that, encouraged by her fa 
 ther, she would soon assume a position in the 
 family to which Naomi, superior as she was, 
 would yield. 
 
 4 
 
110 NAOMI. 
 
 Naomi was eminently formed to inspire love ; 
 there was in her a tenderness and sympathy for 
 others, a sweetness of countenance and a gentle 
 tone of voice, that went to the heart of those 
 capable of appreciating such qualities. They 
 felt that she was not a person to whom any 
 flattery could be offered, or any homage ex 
 pressed, except that of the silent heart, and her 
 own humility and the simplicity of her char 
 acter prevented her from perceiving the influ 
 ence her noble qualities exerted. With trans 
 parent truth on every feature, she stood there 
 in her pure upright self, and those who could 
 appreciate the worth of her character would 
 alone adhere to her. Ruth loved her sister 
 because she had become necessary to her. She 
 was the person upon whom she could throw 
 the responsibility of her actions, and make her 
 a kind of external conscience, to save her from 
 the inconvenience of governing herself. Naomi 
 was too gentle to contend with her sister. Her 
 moral courage was great, and in every thing in 
 volving a principle she was firm as a rock ; but 
 the sensitiveness of her organization and the 
 sweetness of her disposition made her shrink 
 from every harsh contest, and yield every thing 
 but truth ; her influence, therefore, if she re 
 tained any over Ruth, was that of truthful sim 
 plicity and silent example. 
 
NAOMI. Ill 
 
 There was still another person upon whom 
 the well-being of Naomi in her father s house 
 greatly depended. This was Faith, the friend, 
 rather than the servant, of her mother, who 
 nursed her in her illness, and upon whom, 
 after her death, the domestic care of the family 
 devolved. Faith was plain in her person, her 
 features rather masculine, and her complexion 
 dark and sallow ; but with all these disadvan 
 tages the comfort of the family depended on 
 her. We often hear of nature s nobility ; Faith 
 was one of nature s common children, but she 
 possessed all the best qualities of a true woman. 
 The influence she gained over every one, even 
 over Mr. Aldersey himself, was not that of a 
 strong mind over a weak one, but it was that 
 of truth and love, blended in just proportions, 
 and acting with quiet unostentation. Faith, 
 plain in person, unattractive in feature, was the 
 mental stay, the source of contentment, the 
 sunlight of the house where she dwelt. Her 
 perpetual cheerfulness dispersed all gloom, and 
 in all the embarrassments, troubles, and perplex 
 ities that arise in a family, she was the ready 
 recourse ; an immediate trust was felt that all 
 would go right as soon as Faith s transparent 
 truth and strong good-sense were brought to 
 bear upon the subject. She was the only per- 
 
1 12 NAOMI. 
 
 son to whom Mr. Aldersey was ever known to 
 yield ; not because she assumed authority, she 
 was truly humble, but because he saw the 
 good-sense and the propriety of her arrange 
 ments. 
 
 Naomi could soon appreciate and sympathize 
 with such a character. All that was good and 
 noble in the one st>on understood and loved 
 what was good and noble in the other ; yet 
 there was a rich and unexplored region in Na 
 omi s mind that Faith could not penetrate, as 
 there were minutiae of disinterested goodness 
 in Faith to which Naomi had not accustomed 
 herself to descend. Naomi s aspiration and 
 thirst after something different and better were 
 in Faith s view a distrust of Providence, a want 
 of faith in God, who would in his own time 
 order every thing for the best good of all. To 
 Faith the world was good enough. Her im 
 agination did not aspire to a better, till the mil 
 lennium or heaven arrived. Injustice, ingrat 
 itude, excited her grief and indignation, but 
 she saw in them beneficent trials for the faith 
 and patience of others. Her soul was amply 
 fed at church, and at family prayers, for her 
 own grateful and devout thoughts accompanied 
 the pious words that were received into a hum 
 ble, not a doubting, heart. She could gather 
 
NAOMI. 113 
 
 honey from the thistle, and never observed the 
 hypocrisy or the formality of others. To her, 
 the New England church was the glory of the 
 whole earth. She had no time for lofty spec 
 ulations or ideal aspirations ; her strong good- 
 sense acted upon the things of the actual world 
 around her, and her benevolence was busied in 
 devising good for those about her in every-day 
 life. There was enough in the well-worn, path 
 of life, she thought, to employ all her faculties 
 to keep it clear of thorns, to smooth the rough 
 places that incommoded the feet of those she 
 loved ; when we were furnished with wings, 
 she thought, it would be time enough to find 
 out the places to which we could soar. 
 
 The health, the food, the warmth, the com 
 fort, of every member of that household was 
 her care ; for herself alone she was never busy. 
 If Faith was seen warming her hands, they 
 knew it was for the service of another ; if she 
 wore a muff in cold weather, or a veil in warm, 
 it was to protect some other s hands and face ; 
 in all excursions upon the land or the water, 
 Faith was furnished with furs and cloaks, not 
 for herself, but for the comfort of every other. 
 None were forgotten. Beauty, as I have said 
 before, is of the soul ; and for those who could 
 discern, the divine rays of this most lovely soul 
 8 
 
114 NAOMI. 
 
 penetrated the rougher clay in which it was en 
 shrined, so that Faith s countenance produced 
 upon them the effect of beauty, and was seen 
 with a lively joy. 
 
 The poor Indians knew her well. They 
 called her their little mother. To their un 
 taught perceptions, the queen of beauty herself 
 would not have been so lovely as the pale and 
 dark-featured Faith. They well understood the 
 homely saying, that " Handsome is that hand 
 some does." On her side, the Indians were all 
 her especial care, her children. She was too 
 humble to be aware of the influence exerted 
 upon the educated and refined, but the poor 
 Indian she knew she could instruct and aid. 
 Faith s good-sense would have suggested to the 
 Rev. Mr. Eliot, their faithful evangelist, that 
 civilization and physical comfort should have 
 preceded conversion ; that the squaw should 
 have made the wigwam neat before she attend 
 ed the lecture, and should have been taught to 
 make her garments before she was taught to pray. 
 
 Between Faith and Sambo there was a per 
 petual war of opinion, on account of the In 
 dians. Sambo felt a lofty superiority to the 
 whole race of Indians. He seemed to regard 
 them as a sort of humble attempt at imitation 
 of the African, a caricature, an exaggeration 
 
NAOMI. 115 
 
 and perpetuation of certain defects of which he 
 was conscious in his own countrymen, and 
 he felt a sort of indignant contempt, such as 
 some great author or painter may be supposed 
 to feel at his host of imitators, lest some one 
 should come so near to his excellences, so attain 
 to his peculiar distinctions, as to be mistaken the 
 copyist for the original. He never spake of the 
 Indians but as vermin, inferior to dogs, and Faith, 
 by the friendship she showed them, had nearly 
 lost the light of Sambo s countenance, and the 
 distinction of his patronage. He was in perpet 
 ual fear least Naomi, too, should be misled by 
 Faith, and unable to note the distinctions be 
 tween himself and the Indians that would es 
 tablish his superiority. 
 
 Mr. Aldersey kept up much traffic with the 
 Indians for costly furs, upon which he made 
 immense profits. It was for his interest to in 
 duce them to come to his house, and the chiefs 
 were always invited to sit at his table. Before 
 Naomi arrived, Mr. Aldersey kept the head of his 
 own table ; but he had now placed Naomi there, 
 and the Indians, with distinctive politeness, 
 sometimes addressed themselves to the pale- 
 faced squaw. 
 
 Naomi felt a deep interest in the Indian 
 squaws. The subdued and sad expression of 
 
I I - NAOMI. 
 
 the himlenod and worn creatures went 
 \n her heart. She never failed to s< -e ,md ex 
 press h T interest 111 lln-iii, v. hi-n lli< y r;iin<- t 
 see, | he, i r "little mother." IJelore :,ln; e;iiue, to 
 Illiot, li;id ohtnined her hi . h- I ven 
 ; and when she r,;i.vv l ;nlli : un<.inid-d 
 hy the hurnlile cre;i.tures, dispen: in^ to them lh< 
 hn-;id of life, indeed, in her Nimple nr.inietions, 
 II ;is the phy: ic;d <-<,\D li I:, lli -y so !Te;illy 
 need< (| ; she longed ;d .D h IM ;i 
 m:.h netoi h> tln-i; Hinihle sonl: . 
 
(JIIAPTKR IX. 
 
 11 ;M:i:; for llinil III. ii ,l.i\ i . . I . 
 I ll. -ii lin- , ;m- .ml IK. in hill .iii.l niton , 
 INo Iliori tin lln MI lli, \vilil .I.-. -i I . im.l , 
 
 Tin |il.iii"li in on ilim liuiitiiig-gmiinilN ; 
 
 Tito pnln IIIHII H nxn rin^s throned linn \\ I , 
 
 Tin |,.il,- IIIMII H Hinl sKmi:i O IT lln ir lloo<ln ; 
 Tlim |)l( iiNiint npriii^H .in- ili\ 
 
 IN ;i . ii;irr;i! i\ e llial ;iinis (<> lie a desenpl ion, 
 ;i livinu; pic.luro, of the linn s of our l.iili( i.;, 
 il would li- -in < in i: MI >ii linrdly lo lie excused 
 lo Ic.-ivr oiil (lie red 111:111 of llic lore;:!. Anmii" 
 
 ih<- olijcr.t.s of int(!r(j h st tlmt onviroiH-d IN.mini, 
 
 (lie Indi.ili:; look lilt; d(U!j>csl liold lijion her mi 
 ;i" nulion. Helore she ( i ,;une, slie h;id |ichii< d 
 theni to luTscir, r.njoy m; 1 , llie siniplr hie ( <od 
 
 ll. ld tf!V(MI llirln, d\\ rll in;; StU llHily Milder Hie 
 :.li;idn\v oi (heir I ocK;;; l. illlicli Hi:; linn h.nl 
 ;iil(ies lljioll (he I III I mleiil. W. IV e;; of lh;il, deep 
 ;iiid wide oee;iu ; (loalin^ upon (lie hosoiu of 
 tht il 1 linhlr. river;;; e|||i>yni" MM hill hle.ssill!. , ol 
 
 a. ualiiral and senlieul. hie; woishijipni! 1 , lli< 
 <ire.il and (iood S|nnl, Ilial lliey |.-|t WUti OVOry- 
 wlieie around lliein, in lln- me| V) in (lie ibllU- 
 lain, ill tho leaf, and in (he cloud ; louring <Uily 
 
118 NAOMI. 
 
 the evil principle opposed to the good. But 
 now, when she was on the spot, she heard of 
 " Christian Indians," " praying Indians," and 
 her interest was excited to become acquainted 
 with their spiritual father, him who was called 
 their Apostle. 
 
 Naomi had already seen them in great num 
 bers, as the Indian women often gathered in 
 Mr. Aldersey s kitchen, bringing their simple 
 manufactures of buskins wrought with porcu 
 pine-quills, birch and willow baskets, and wam 
 pum-belts, to exchange for little comforts for 
 their wigwams ; but she wished to see them 
 more nearly in their civilized and Christian state, 
 in their village at Nonantum, where it was said 
 they had learnt agriculture and housekeeping, 
 and governed themselves by laws of their own 
 making. 
 
 In order to see them under the best aus.pices, 
 she wished to accompany Mr. Eliot, the evan 
 gelist, when he went to hold one of his lectures 
 in their simple wigwams. Soon her wish was 
 gratified, and the apostle himself came to pro 
 pose a time to visit his new converts. The per 
 sonal appearance of the Rev. Mr. Eliot instantly 
 won the attention and interest of those who 
 could look beneath the surface. Small in stat 
 ure and rather plain, his countenance was wast- 
 
NAOMI. 119 
 
 ed and worn as though he had suffered much 
 privation and fatigue ; but his eye, deep-seated 
 beneath his brow, lighted up with an intense 
 inward fire, or melted into the softest expression 
 of tenderness and compassion. Every move 
 ment and expression of that rather insignificant 
 person disclosed an unconquerable energy, and 
 unwearied and never-yielding constancy of pur 
 pose how else could he have accomplished 
 what he did ? Much of his power over the 
 wild men depended upon that speaking eye, and 
 upon a voice capable of every tone that pen 
 etrates the heart. Such a voice is a direct gift 
 from the soul ; no art can imitate, and no words 
 describe, its power; a contemporary, in speaking 
 of this voice, said, " that, when he opened his 
 lips, they were like Mary s box of ointment ; 
 the whole room was filled with perfume." His 
 whole appearance showed a nervous organiza- 
 ticfn and a tenderness of heart opposed to the 
 dogmas of his creed. The spiritual means by 
 which he strengthened his soul to bear his 
 almost insupportable labors was prayer, often 
 spending whole days in solitary meditation and 
 fasting. Great reformers of every age have thus 
 furnished themselves with spiritual armor, be 
 fore they have gone forth to bless and instruct 
 the world. 
 
120 NAOMI. 
 
 An afternoon in October had been fixed upon 
 for Naomi to accompany the reverend apostle of 
 the Indians to Nonantum, to see his poor converts 
 and listen to his instruction to his humble chil 
 dren. It was one of those cloudless and perfect 
 days of which we have so many in our New Eng 
 land autumn, with the temperature of June, yet 
 more prized than June itself, because the even 
 ing approaches earlier, and the hours of sun 
 light, as they are briefer, are more precious. 
 
 Immediately after the early dinner of that 
 period, the party proceeded to the small private 
 wharf where Mr. Aldersey s boat lay, with his 
 own servants ready to take the oars. Sambo 
 had at first begged permission to be left behind, 
 alleging pressing work to be done at home. 
 But afterwards, fearing that Naomi might re 
 ceive wrong impressions from the great attention 
 that was paid the Indians, he appeared at the 
 thwart ready to take the oar, but dressed in his 
 most exquisite style. Mr. Aldersey good-na 
 turedly excused him from rowing, perceiving 
 the impression he wished to make upon the 
 Indians by the superiority of his dress, and told 
 him to take charge of the cloaks and furs that 
 Faith had provided for their return. 
 
 They left the town, and passed on their course 
 the arable fields of Muddy River (Brookline), 
 
121 
 
 where there were many snug farm-cottages, and 
 cattle enjoying the late pasturage of that beauti 
 ful shore, presenting a picture of repose and 
 fertility that forcibly reminded Naomi of the 
 tranquil homesteads of England. Then the 
 Charles became narrower, and their little boat 
 was sheltered by the overhanging trees of its 
 margin. No bridges obstructed their progress 
 till they landed at a spot where now spreads 
 a flourishing town, but where then brooded over 
 the whole scene the silence and tranquillity of 
 an unbroken solitude. A little further on, they 
 came to the plain where the Indians had placed 
 their village of wigwams. It was dotted over 
 with trees, and intersected by a winding brook, 
 while all around this cleared space of corn 
 fields and rude gardens the unbroken forest 
 spread its protecting arms. 
 
 Mr. Aldersey s family were almost the earli 
 est upon the ground, and it was evident the In 
 dians were preparing for some unusual and ex 
 citing event. As Naomi and Faith walked 
 around, and glanced into some of their wig 
 wams, the chiefs were painting and preparing 
 their toilets j the women, also, were sweeping 
 the front of their wigwams, with the design 
 of assuming an exquisite neatness. When the 
 Indian chiefs issued in all their finery from the 
 
122 NAOMI. 
 
 blankets which were suspended before the doors 
 of their poor birch-built dwellings, it was surpris 
 ing how so much splendor of decoration could 
 be applied in so poor a habitation. The chiefs 
 were clad in robes of dressed deer-skins richly 
 ornamented with colored beads, with fringes, and 
 wampum-belts. Plumes of different birds were 
 arranged, in some instances with great symmetry 
 and taste, to form an imposing head-dress, and 
 the single eagle s feather overshadowed in many 
 more the horridly painted face. The women, 
 on the contrary, with the exception of a few 
 that were evidently the dusky belles of the 
 tribe, were without ornament in dress or person, 
 and the children were almost or quite naked. 
 
 As different parties of the white inhabitants 
 arrived and strolled around their village, the In 
 dians, both men and women, assumed a proud 
 indifference of manner, a stolid quietude of 
 mien ; even Faith, their little mother and warm 
 hearted friend, was received with cold dignity. 
 A seat was brought for her, indeed, and one for 
 the pale-face queen, as they called Naomi, a dis 
 tinction which the appearance of her mental 
 superiority could alone have induced, for her 
 dress was inferior in gayety or richness to many 
 there. The women, meantime, hushed their in 
 fants to sleep, and the men lounged in various 
 
NAOMI. 123 
 
 attitudes of stern repose, eyeing their visitors 
 with a sullen and haughty affectation of su 
 periority. 
 
 At length Mr. Eliot and a few of his brethren 
 appeared, and immediately a sort of quiet bustle 
 ensued. They had ridden from Roxbury ; and 
 the chiefs hastened, although with proud and 
 stately steps, to relieve them of their horses, 
 which were tethered in the woods. The little 
 bronzed children escaped from their mothers 
 and clustered around the good man, encouraged 
 by his benevolent smile to thrust their hands 
 into his ample pocket, where they always found 
 the apples and cakes he placed there for this 
 very purpose. The secret in part of the evan 
 gelist s influence over these wild children of na 
 ture was his attention to the minute details of 
 their comfort, his exact justice, his indulgent 
 condescension to the claims of the lowliest 
 squaw and the youngest child. An instance of 
 his just legislation occurred immediately after 
 he came on the ground. 
 
 A young, athletic, and handsome Indian ap 
 proached, and complained that his wife refused 
 to go into the woods and bring home the deer 
 he had slain for their food. He had, he said, 
 done his part ; he had killed the game, and it 
 was the duty of every squaw to bring it home, 
 
124 NAOMI. 
 
 however distant it might lie from the wigwam, 
 and to dress it for her husband s repast. This 
 in the laws of Indian civilization was true, and 
 the refusal of obedience was so unusual a thing 
 in Indian domestic life that Mr. Eliot desired the 
 wife might be called to answer to the charge 
 against her. 
 
 She was found stretched upon a mat in the 
 wigwam ; but she came, a poor young creature, 
 panting, emaciated, and apparently far gone in 
 consumption. Every one looked on in pity. 
 Mr. Eliot kindly bade her take up one of the 
 saddles that was lying on the ground and place 
 it on the nearest horse. The poor, humble creat 
 ure obeyed ; she made the effort, and had nearly 
 got the saddle raised to the horse s back, when 
 she trembled, staggered, and fell back fainting 
 into the arms of one who stood near. Mr. Eliot 
 turned and looked at the strong, athletic young 
 Indian who had brought the complaint. It was 
 enough ; he slunk away, mortified and ashamed. 
 
 The assembly of Indians and whites had now 
 increased so that no wigwam was sufficient for 
 their accommodation. It was therefore suggest 
 ed that the sermon should be preached in the 
 open air, under the spreading shelter of the 
 noble hemlocks and pines that abounded in the 
 place. It now became a scene of touching and 
 
NAOMI. 125 
 
 deep interest. The venerable Eliot placed him 
 self with the elders ancl teachers upon a small 
 eminence, under the shadow of an ancient hem 
 lock, whose deeply-dark and spreading branches 
 threw an imposing shade upon the noble and 
 serious faces of the pale men, contrasting so 
 strongly with the brilliant October sunshine, and 
 heightening their striking dissimilitude with the 
 dusky children of the forest. These were gath 
 ered round in peaceful groups, their gaudy and 
 wild garments floating in the air, and striking 
 the eye in lively contrast with the sombre attire 
 of their visitors ; their dark and serious faces all 
 turned towards the apostle. Upon a few of 
 these bronzed features could be traced the vary 
 ing emotions of their souls, curiosity, wonder, 
 love. while others retained the imperturbable 
 stolidity of the Indian, and turned away in sul 
 len and proud indifference. 
 
 Behind the groups of men the savage women 
 crouched, in attitudes expressive of their sense 
 of inferiority to their lords, their meek, subdued 
 countenances stamped with the seal of patient 
 endurance and humble servitude. 
 
 Outside of these was what might be called 
 the congregation of the whites, collected from 
 different motives ; some, indeed, with contempt 
 upon their countenances, but all hushed into 
 
126 NAOMI. 
 
 serious and solemn attention, their usual and 
 habitual seriousness at * all religious exercises 
 heightened, by the peculiar scene around them, 
 to a devout reverence ; the waving trees, with 
 the dirge-like sound of the wind in their branch 
 es, the echo from the far-off hills, which seemed 
 like the voices of guardian spirits confirming all 
 that was said, and the deep-blue overhanging 
 canopy, the eye of God himself, looking down 
 upon them. 
 
 Among these groups, and as near as possible 
 to the Indians, were Naomi and her companions, 
 with Sambo in close attendance. Mr. Aldersey 
 had joined the group of teachers under the 
 hemlocks. 
 
 The reverend Eliot began the service with a 
 prayer in English, pronounced with the deep 
 pathos of that voice always so touching. The 
 wind made, as it were, melodious responses, as 
 it stirred the reedy branches of the hemlock. 
 Every heart was touched and soothed, and the 
 Indian women, although they understood not a 
 word, were melted into tears. How appropriate 
 was the text that he chose for his Indian ser 
 mon ! " Come from the four winds, O breath 
 (or spirit), and breathe upon these that they may 
 live ! So the breath came unto them and they 
 lived and stood upon their feet." The sermon 
 
NAOMI. 127 
 
 was very long, and topics drawn from every ab 
 struse branch of theology were discussed j but it 
 was listened to with unflagging attention. When 
 the preacher spoke of the love and suffering of 
 the Saviour, the Son of God, mingled pity, and 
 sorrow, and indignation struggled upon the up 
 lifted faces of the women, and many of them 
 wept aloud. This seemed to show the kind of 
 preaching they needed ; not the abstruse doc 
 trines of Calvinism, but the tender love of the 
 Gospel. They whose souls were so warm, so 
 tender, so quickly excited to love, so easily 
 melted to pity, would not, under such instruc 
 tion, the native rock of the Indian have been 
 covered with the rich bloom of wild-flowers ? 
 But now they have passed away with the wind 
 that breathed upon them ; no trace of their foot 
 prints is left. 
 
 After the sermon took place the burial of 
 a little Indian child. The father of the child 
 wished it to be in the English mode, and had 
 himself made a coflin, and invited his friends to 
 follow in procession. The mother consented, 
 although she could not forego the Indian cus 
 tom of dressing the little emaciated body in all 
 the finery it had worn upon gala-days. About 
 forty Indians followed in procession, in solemn 
 silence, without their powwows and noise ; the 
 
128 NAOMI. 
 
 men with stern, composed, and solemn faces, 
 the women silent, with their eyes cast down, 
 except the poor mother, from whose lips at every 
 moment a stifled groan burst forth. At the little 
 grave the father prayed in their own Indian lan 
 guage, and then each, as he silently turned away, 
 threw a handful of earth upon it. The mother 
 only stood in mute sorrow, and would not leave 
 the grave till the turf was again placed ove r her 
 dead treasure. 
 
 Naomi had been attracted to the spot ; she 
 looked in silence into the grave ; there lay the 
 little bow and arrow by his side, and a small 
 gourd at the head of the coffin. Naomi respect 
 ed the mother s grief, but she ventured to ask 
 why, as she had buried her child in a coffin, 
 after the English fashion, she placed his bow 
 and arrow by his side. 
 
 " How should I know my brave boy," she 
 answered, " in the happy hunting-grounds, if he 
 had not his bow and his arrow ? He will be a 
 chief and not a squaw in the blessed hunting- 
 grounds, and how should I know him again 
 without his bow and his arrow ? " 
 
 The little procession turned aside into a thick 
 grove, and there they lifted up their voices and 
 wept aloud, as they prayed in their own lan 
 guage. Naomi also wept with them ; the pray- 
 
NAOMI. 129 
 
 that comes from a bereaved mother s heart car 
 ries with it the sympathy of every other heart. 
 
 A different scene was taking place in another 
 part of the Indian village. A powerful sachem 
 of one of the tribes had listened with scorn and 
 contempt to Eliot s preaching, and before it was 
 finished withdrew, anger and revenge burning in, 
 his breast ; and as he withdrew he carried with 
 him several of the bravest of his tribe. He had 
 two subjects of complaint and offence ; one was 
 that the " praying Indians " had refused to pay 
 him the usual tribute ; and the other, that the 
 Rev. Mr. Eliot had preached much against the 
 sin of a plurality of wives. He felt deeply 
 under this censure, having just taken a second 
 young wife, although his elder squaw had ever 
 been a faithful and devoted spouse. The apos 
 tle had before taken occasion to admonish him 
 in private, but to-day in his sermon he took the 
 opportunity to enlarge very powerfully, and, as 
 the sachem thought, much too personally, up 
 on this great sin of the chiefs. 
 
 After the sermon was ended, he approach 
 ed Mr. Eliot, and with violent and imperi 
 ous gesture declared that the apostle should 
 never set foot again within his village. The 
 savages trembled at the anger of their chief, 
 and began to slink away and hide themselves 
 9 
 
130 NAOMI. 
 
 like guilty creatures. But Mr. Eliot, without be 
 traying weakness or inferiority, answered, with 
 the promptest resolution and calm, unblenching 
 firmness, that he should do the work of the 
 Great Spirit that he was sent to do, and that he 
 neither feared him nor any thing that he could 
 do. The savage could not stand before the 
 firm and kindling eye of the apostle ; he cow 
 ered beneath its sacred light, and the tribe again 
 crowded around their teacher. 
 
 When Mr. Eliot took leave, the chief followed 
 him, and stated the difficulties of his situation. 
 The apostle treated him kindly, and spoke aside 
 with Governor Endicott, who was just mount 
 ing his horse to ride back with him to Roxbury. 
 " The thing shall be looked into," the governor 
 said, " and the teachers shall discourse upon it 
 and give them the true doctrine at the next lec 
 ture." Then, turning to the Indians, he cour 
 teously invited them all to come next Thursday 
 to the lecture, when the ministers should deal 
 with them. 
 
 The chiefs now with stately gravity took 
 leave, and Eliot and his friends pursued their 
 way, through bridle-paths in the woods, to their 
 respective homes. 
 
 In another part of the ground almost a ludi 
 crous scene was taking place. Sambo had in- 
 
NAOMI. 131 
 
 volved himself in a dispute with one of the 
 dusky belles, that amounted almost to a quarrel, 
 Sambo, usually so good-humored and tranquil. 
 I have before mentioned his extreme jealousy 
 of the Indians, and the superiority he himself 
 assumed over them, as though their grand and 
 noble forms, their firm, upright tread and heav 
 enward bearing, were but a caricature of the 
 African race. 
 
 The Indian belle, to get rid of the impor 
 tunity of his too polite attentions, told him that 
 his little mother, meaning Faith, wanted him. 
 " Run," said the girl, "you dare not disobey." 
 
 Sambo indignantly scorned the idea of stand 
 ing in that relation to Faith, or in any relation 
 that implied obedience." The housekeeper, he 
 said, was no mother of his, and he scorned to 
 obey any woman except Miss Omai. 
 
 " Well," said the Indian girl, " I guess the 
 little mother better to you than your own 
 mammy, for when you were a little pappoose 
 swinging on the great tree, she let her little 
 piccaninni fall and spoiled his nose " ; and she 
 burst into a laugh, and held up the palm of her 
 hand to imply that his face was as free from 
 protuberance as her own hand. 
 
 Sambo s indignation knew no bounds. His 
 complexion changed to the color of a deep 
 
132 NAOMI. 
 
 purple plum, where the crimson juice is seen 
 ready to burst its dark envelope. To be in 
 sulted thus openly was more than the meekest 
 spirit could bear. But at this moment Naomi 
 and Faith appeared. He smothered his griefs 
 and followed them from the village. 
 
 The sun had now sunk behind the forest, and 
 was but a half-hour from its setting. The crim 
 son rays shot beneath the boughs and touched 
 the old trunks, and played in variegated light 
 upon the rich embroidery of the mossy stems, 
 and the deeper green of little opening vistas 
 was lighted up with emerald brilliancy. Above 
 the forest was diffused a pale tint of orange, 
 and a faint hue of apple-green, so beautiful in 
 the autumn sunsets of this climate ; and these 
 gradually changed into deep, dark blue and the 
 violet shades of the eastern horizon. 
 
 Naomi and the friends who accompanied her 
 sought their boat. A western breeze had sprung 
 up, the sail was spread, and the oarsmen rested 
 idly upon their oars. The full harvest moon 
 now rose over those broad and tranquil waters. 
 As the planet rose higher in the heavens, she 
 hung like a perfect ball of light, moving among 
 heaps of fleecy clouds that sometimes obscured 
 her wholly, and then, like snowy wreaths of 
 vapor or islands of fleece, received her in their 
 
NAOMI. 133 
 
 bosom. Deep silence was in that solitary boat ; 
 Naomi was reflecting upon the scene she had 
 witnessed, and the others were overcome with 
 fatigue. The moon touched the humble roofs 
 of the cabins along the shore, and glanced in 
 mysterious change of light and shadow among 
 the trees that hung over the margin of the river 
 along which they glided. The profound mel 
 ancholy of the scene cannot be expressed in 
 words, the unbroken solitude of a scene now 
 over-peopled and alive with human activity. 
 No busy commerce, no thronged wharves, no 
 clustering houses, crowded the land upon the 
 water. The soul was alone with nature. As 
 they passed the sylvan shores of Brookline, the 
 lofty trees formed islands of floating shadow 
 upon the grass, where the cattle reposed in 
 groups, and their startled guardians, the watch 
 dogs, broke the repose of the night as the sound 
 of the oars awoke the echoes upon land. 
 
 The boat at length touched the little wharf. 
 Naomi went to her pillow with peaceful and 
 tranquil emotions. Her visit to the Indian vil 
 lage had been the most purely congenial scene 
 she had witnessed in New England. 
 
CHAPTER X. 
 
 " O, doubly lost ! oblivion s shadows close 
 
 Around their triumphs and their woes. 
 
 Nor lofty pile, nor glowing page, 
 
 Shall link him to a future age, 
 
 Or give him with the past a rank ; 
 His heraldry is but a broken bow, 
 His history but a tale of wrong and woe ; 
 
 His very name must be a blank." SPRAGUE. 
 
 THURSDAY, the day of the lecture, had now 
 arrived ; the day on which the Indians were to 
 present themselves in the assembly of the pale 
 faces, to be taught their duty both with regard 
 to paying tribute to the sachem and the domes 
 tic custom that touched them so nearly, the 
 plurality of wives. The children of the forest 
 had been frequently seen at the lecture, but 
 to-day they were to appear, as it were, in their 
 national character, and much importance was 
 attached to the event. Cutshamakin, although 
 he understood no English, was to make his ap 
 pearance to protest against, or to interpret in 
 his own wild way, the solemnity of the scene. 
 
 The Thursday Lecture was usually crowded, 
 for there were other incentives offered to those 
 
NAOMI. 135 
 
 who dwelt in the neighbouring towns beside 
 that which was always paramount, hearing the 
 preached word, to visit Boston on Thursday ; 
 even the people of Salem, some of them trav 
 elling on foot, were sure to be at the Thursday 
 Lecture. It was their weekly market-day, and 
 the good people of Boston have ever shown 
 themselves willing to unite the pursuit of an 
 honest gain with a devout exhibition of religious 
 observances. 
 
 Early in the morning the repose of the little 
 town was broken by the rumbling of carts from 
 the country, and the arrival of countrymen on 
 horseback with well filled saddle-bags, contain 
 ing their domestic manufactures of cloths from 
 the family loom, shoes from the farmer s win 
 ter work-bench, cheeses and butter, the gen 
 erous produce of new and rich pastures. Cattle 
 and sheep, calves and swine, were sold in the 
 same market, so that the little market-place soon 
 presented a crowded and animated scene of 
 bustle and lively interest. At eleven o clock 
 the weekly holiday began at the schools, and 
 the exuberant spirits of Boston boys, eman 
 cipated from the restraint of six days, added 
 to the general activity. Holiday and lecture- 
 day were then synonymous terms. How wide 
 apart are now the associations connected with 
 
136 NAOMI. 
 
 each ! It is long since the descendants of the 
 Pilgrims looked upon a lecture as a holiday 
 affair, and since the blessed anticipation of the 
 pleasures of a holiday included the hearing of 
 a lecture. 
 
 At twelve o clock, immediately after the early 
 dinner of that period, all hastened and crowded 
 to the sanctuary for the refreshment of the 
 Thursday Lecture. The praying Indians were 
 already there, and had had places assigned them 
 in front of the ministers ; they were to be ad 
 dressed as those who had refused to pay tribute 
 to the sachem. 
 
 The first prayer had been made, and the sing 
 ing of the hymn was nearly over, when a great 
 bustle ensued at the door. It was thrust wide 
 open, and Cutshamakin, with his interpreter and 
 his two wives following at a little distance, 
 advanced with haughty gesture and imperious 
 step and placed himself in an attitude of com 
 mand before the ministers and people. Seats 
 were offered him, but he waved his hand for 
 the service to proceed, and remained standing 
 erect and haughty, while his wives modestly 
 bent their heads, as though impressed with awe 
 and shame. 
 
 The audacity of the chief drew all eyes upon 
 him ; tall, erect, and haughty, with his splendid 
 
NAOMI. 137 
 
 head-dress of eagle s feathers, his mantle of 
 deer-skin that swept the ground, trimmed with 
 gay fringes of colored beads, his tomahawk in 
 his girdle, his bow and arrows in his hand, 
 while upon his countenance could be seen the 
 varying expression of scorn, contempt, and 
 anger, changing to exultation and triumph as 
 the interpreter repeated to him in a whisper the 
 purport of the sermon upon that command of 
 the Saviour to render unto Caesar the things 
 that belonged to Csesar, the claim of the sa 
 chem to tribute being completely established. 
 
 The other offence seemed almost to find its 
 apology in the presence of the two wives. The 
 one extremely youthful, the last-chosen of the 
 sachem, might have been the daughter of the 
 chief, and if she had been bent on the con 
 quest of the youths of the pale faces, she could 
 not have adorned herself with more coquetry. 
 Her mantle, of fine deer-skin wrought in col 
 ors, was snowy white, her ear-rings and brace 
 lets of silver, and the tablet, as our fathers called 
 the ornament which she wore upon her breast, 
 was gay with tinsel, and stones, and beads. She 
 wore silver rings upon her well-formed ankles, 
 and open buskins that displayed their grace 
 ful shape. 
 
 The other wife was perhaps thirty, but the 
 
138 NAOMI. 
 
 hours and days of heavy toil to which the In 
 dian squaws were condemned had brought upon 
 her a premature old age. She wore no orna 
 ment, and scarcely lifted her eyes to her hus 
 band s face ; but she pointed, while tears stream 
 ed down her cheeks, to a young Indian boy 
 and his sister who had silently followed her 
 into the assembly, as though she would have 
 said, " These are my jewels." 
 
 Here was a case that puzzled the ministers 
 and teachers ; and it seems that, though they 
 were eloquent against the sin of polygamy, they 
 could not come to any decision which wife 
 should be put away ; the judgment was therefore 
 deferred to another time. 
 
 How singular does the whole transaction ap 
 pear to us now, and how deeply is it tinctured 
 with the spirit of the times ! It seems as if a 
 few hours of investigation of two or three sen 
 sible men might have settled the whole affair 
 of paying tribute, and that only great ignorance 
 of human nature could make our fathers believe 
 that a sermon, however eloquent, could unlink 
 the chain that bound an Indian to his wife. 
 The ministers were accustomed to address the 
 people at the Thursday Lecture upon those del 
 icate questions of morality that did not come 
 within the cognizance of the laws or the Gen- 
 
NAOMI. 139 
 
 eral Court, but were subject to the control of 
 public opinion. This Thursday Lecture seemed 
 to exercise the same kind of influence as that 
 of the public press at the present day ; but the 
 poor Indian did not half understand, and could 
 not submit himself to its control. 
 
 With reverence and humility, such as be 
 come us in speaking of Eliot, that faithful, self- 
 devoted apostle, that zealous, truth-inspired 
 evangelist, that martyr to an unfruitful but 
 holy cause, may we not suggest that the the 
 ology he taught these simple children of nature 
 was incomprehensible to their minds, distasteful 
 to their hearts ? that the civilization he endeav 
 oured to bring about was disproportioned and in 
 advance of their wants ? A perfect mixture 
 with the pale faces could alone have produced 
 that gradual civilization that would have been 
 permanent. They should have been induced 
 to love their masters, and then they might have 
 wished to be like them. But the whites were, 
 except a few, too disdainful of them to perceive 
 their true wants, or the value of the savage vir 
 tues, the simple religion, they already possessed. 
 
 There was also an immobility in the Indian 
 character that made them averse to civilization. 
 Like the Jews of old, they could hot be moulded 
 by others, they could not adopt strange customs. 
 
140 NAOMI. 
 
 They remained ever attached to their wild life 
 and their hunting-grounds ; the moccason was 
 dearer than the shoe, the blanket than the coat. 
 The Indian could not confine his wants to the 
 little inclosure around his wigwam, however 
 fruitful it might be in corn and potatoes ; his step 
 was on the mountain-side, his path through the 
 mountain torrent. His cabin gave him no room 
 to breathe, scarcely could he have breathed 
 in a cathedral ; the wide forest and the prairie, 
 with the Great Spirit near him, made his dwell 
 ing-place. One by one they perish, like the 
 leaves of the forest that are swept away by the 
 autumn winds ; melancholy shrouds them ; they 
 die of sadness, and are effaced from the earth by 
 an inexorable destiny. 
 
CHAPTER XL 
 
 " T is winter s jubilee ; this day 
 
 His stores their countless treasures yield; 
 See how the diamond-glances play, 
 
 In ceaseless blaze, from tree and field ! 
 A shower of gems is strewed around, 
 The flowers of winter rich and rare ; 
 Rubies and sapphires deck the ground ; 
 The topaz, emerald, all are there." 
 
 ANDREWS NORTON. 
 
 IN such amusements as I have described, or 
 rather in such devout occupation, the autumn 
 passed away. The gorgeous array of the au 
 tumn foliage had fallen to the ground, and the 
 trees stood around the common and upon the 
 heights of Roxbury and Dorchester in all the 
 beauty of the intricate interlacing of their bare 
 branches and twigs, clearly designed upon the 
 amber of the evening sky. These closely-reefed 
 trees possess a beauty of their own that seems 
 to bid defiance to any further changes of season ; 
 and yet a snow-storm arrays them in a fairy 
 loveliness that for a moment surpasses their 
 summer beauty. Naomi had watched with con 
 stantly increasing interest the changes of the 
 autumn, from the first pale amber and vivid red 
 
142 NAOMI. 
 
 of the maple-leaf to the rich and uniform brown 
 tint of the forests, till all were swept away by 
 November gales, and the sunbeams, freely ad 
 mitted, checkered the embroidered ground with 
 light and shadow, and the deep blue harvest sky 
 rested over all. 
 
 A snow-storm occurred in the beginning of 
 winter, succeeded by rain and a sharp frost, and 
 the next day the sun arose upon a world that 
 had been turned as by enchantment into a frost 
 work of precious stones, of diamonds, and gems. 
 How many pens have been employed to de- y 
 scribe a scene like this ! and all have failed as 
 completely as though a mortal painter were to 
 dip his brush in dew to paint the varying glories 
 of sunrise. Shall I, then, presumptuously make 
 the attempt ? No ! The transforming power of 
 that invisible magician, Frost, must be seen ; one 
 must see to believe that, like Aladdin s lamp, it 
 can transform the most homely objects into the 
 most precious and gorgeous. A pigsty becomes 
 a fairy palace j an Indian wigwam, a huge cor 
 onet of diamonds ; every twig of every tree 
 is hung with a wreath of colored jewels ; the 
 fences, the bushes, become delicate frostwork 
 of molten silver, hung with crystals polished 
 beyond the art of man. 
 
 To those who had been long in the country 
 
NAOMI. 143 
 
 this was no surprising nor exciting scene ; but 
 it was new to Naomi, and she was eager to ob 
 serve this unique species of beauty. Early in 
 the morning she engaged Ruth to accompany 
 her in a walk across the isthmus, or Neck. Upon 
 the surface of the snow there was a thin coating 
 of transparent ice, glittering in the sunshine 
 with myriads of brilliants, and sown thickly 
 with larger diamonds. The air was sharp, but 
 elastic, and the deep blue sky without a single 
 cloud. 
 
 The first objects of interest to the pedestrians 
 were the picturesque little tents of the smelt- 
 fishers, made of a single blanket or rug thrown 
 over crossed poles, merely to defend the fishers 
 from the wind ; and they promised themselves 
 to go again in the evening, when the fires would 
 be kindled, that would transform these ragged 
 blankets into tents of silver. 
 
 As they proceeded, they remarked objects no 
 less homely, but -made picturesque by the eye 
 that has the power of discerning beauty. Huge 
 sleds, loaded to an enormous height with the 
 prostrate giants of the forest, approached slowly, 
 seen at a great distance by the moist breath of 
 the poor, laboring beasts curling up in the keen 
 morning air, and colored with rainbow hues. 
 As they drew near, they saw the rime around 
 
144 NAOMI. 
 
 their wide-distended nostrils and the muzzles 
 of the poor beasts hung with wreaths of bril 
 liants. Each ponderous load was but a single 
 magnificent tenant of the forest, brought down 
 by the axe of those who first penetrated the 
 untrodden solitudes with such a little instru 
 ment. There the splendid tree had counted, 
 ah, how many centuries ! Unharmed by wintry 
 storms, by the lightning, the raging tempest, 
 it had spread its wide, protecting arms to shelter 
 the wild beast and the wilder man, and myriads 
 of sentient beings had found life and protection 
 in its branches. The squirrel had leaped from 
 twig to twig ; the little singing-birds had shel 
 tered their nests under the green tent of its 
 leaves ; millions of creeping things had nestled 
 and fed on its bark ; innumerable ephemera had 
 led the intricate dance through long long sum 
 mer days under its shadow ; the wild deer had 
 lain securely beneath its shelter ; the shining 
 speckled snake had hid in the thick grass around 
 its trunk ; the timid rabbit had sipped the morn 
 ing dew upon its turfed roots ; and now that 
 little shining blade had laid its world of life, 
 and its honors gathered for centuries there in 
 lonely majesty, low in the dust. 
 
 It required science to heap up and nicely bal 
 ance these ponderous loads of fuel. First, at 
 
NAOMI. 145 
 
 the foundation was laid the enormous trunk, cut 
 into equal lengths and laid with care ; then fol 
 lowed the wide-spread arms, also squared, and 
 measured, and nicely adjusted ; upon these were 
 piled the lighter branches, shorn of their myriad 
 twigs, which last were heaped high, and truly 
 balanced upon the top of all. Thus each load, 
 with its guardian and its patient, much-endur 
 ing beasts, slowly plodding over the frozen 
 road, carried comfort and cheerfulness to the 
 firesides of our fathers, who in their early set 
 tlement found these noble forest-friends their 
 best and truest. 
 
 As Ruth and Naomi advanced, they heard 
 echoing all around the sturdy strokes of the 
 woodman in different parts of the forest, and the 
 familiar whistle that called back their straying 
 dogs. How different from the whistle of the 
 engine, or the throbbing of the rail-car ! How 
 changed the scene ! Then a nearly unbroken 
 forest shut in the horizon. A little clearing 
 might then have been made in the woods near 
 a running stream, with which they were so rich, 
 and a mill-wheel placed over, which in summer 
 dashed the limpid treasure of the rocks in spark 
 ling drops of foam, but then was imprisoned 
 by the frostwork of winter. All else was si 
 lent solitude. Now, ah ! it requires the pen 
 10 
 
146 NAOMI. 
 
 of an actor in these busy scenes to describe their 
 hurrying tumult, the thronging of the thor 
 oughfare where the wild beast then roamed, 
 the rushing of the almost incessant car where 
 the serpent brooded. Where the wild vine and 
 savage creeping plants wove an intricate netting 
 upon the ground, is now a network of iron, and 
 metal lines dissect the air where only the wild 
 bird carolled and the thousand melodies of 
 nature arose. Fruit-trees, the vintage of the 
 south, the blushing fruits of the tropics, hang 
 where the wild swamp threw up its rank veg 
 etation ; gorgeous flowers bloom where the poi 
 sonous weed flourished. Instead of the wild 
 Indian is the industrious laborer, the work of 
 whose hardy muscles, the sweat of whose hon 
 est brow, has made the wilderness thus blossom. 
 Woman, too, Christian woman, has had her part 
 in the work of these two short centuries ; she 
 has taught her children to love labor, and to love 
 God ; she has gathered them around her knees 
 where the poor Indian squaw left the frail ones 
 to perish. Children are everywhere in our bless 
 ed land of Massachusetts the care of the state ; 
 cherished and guarded also by humane and 
 Christian love, gathering them into Sunday 
 Schools, leading them by the tenderest love to 
 the only example of true excellence. O, did 
 
NAOMI. 147 
 
 they but know their privileges, were they sen 
 sible of their blessed condition, how would 
 they strive to make it permanent, to transmit 
 their blessings to future generations ! 
 
 To return to our pedestrians. Next came 
 herds of cows and oxen, driven into Boston, the 
 former for winter quarters, the oxen perhaps for 
 the market. They had been pastured during 
 the summer upon the flats and hills of Muddy 
 River, or Brookline, and were now plodding 
 their way, each to its well-known manger in 
 the corner of the well-filled barn. Our fathers 
 were most humane and tender in their care 
 of animals, and severely punished all cruelty 
 towards them. Some of the cows were fol 
 lowed by their calves. Naomi and Ruth had 
 passed the whole herd, when they found one 
 little calf lagging far behind ; it had met with 
 an accident ; one of its legs was broken, and the 
 little cripple with its utmost exertions could not 
 keep up with the herd. It was pitiable to see 
 the distress of the poor mother, obliged to go on 
 with the rest, but every moment turning back 
 to aid her young calf, who at every fruitless leap 
 rolled over in the snow ; the agony of the moth 
 er was inexpressible, and her full eye seemed 
 swelled with tears, as she was driven on by the 
 surly brute who had them in charge. 
 
148 NAOMI. 
 
 The scene was too affecting for Ruth s young 
 nerves. Petted child as she was, she felt her 
 power, and called to the driver to stop and take 
 up the calf in his arms, or she would complain 
 of him to her father. He answered surlily, 
 that the cattle did not belong to her father, and 
 that he had nothing to do with them. The 
 two young girls held a consultation, and the 
 indulged child determined to purchase the priv 
 ilege of disposing of both cow and calf, know 
 ing that her father, if he blamed, would soon 
 forgive. 
 
 The driver was the owner of the two animals, 
 or he would not have dared to use them so cru 
 elly ; the price he asked was greatly too large 
 for the united purses of Ruth and Naomi ; but 
 as they had entered into the affair they would 
 not give it up, and Naomi gave the man an 
 order on her step-father for the rest of the price. 
 An old shed, that had been used to store the salt 
 hay from the flats, sheltered the poor calf arid 
 its mother, most happy to lie down together 
 till they could be sent for in the evening. 
 Ruth s exultation was almost boundless, when 
 she had placed the poor, limping calf by the side 
 of its mother. Perhaps it is characteristic of the 
 times that the driver was the only sufferer. Mr. 
 Aldersey was so satisfied to bring a delinquent 
 
NAOMI. 149 
 
 to punishment, that he overlooked this act of 
 temerity in his daughter. The man was obliged 
 to content himself with only half the price he 
 had demanded for the cow, and to submit to 
 the disgrace of an hour in the stocks. 
 
 As Naomi and Ruth returned from their ex 
 citing walk, the glory of the morning was melt 
 ing away in the meridian sun ; the southern side 
 of tree and shrub was nearly bare of the glit 
 tering ornaments, presenting, if Naomi had been 
 so disposed, a subject for moralizing reflections 
 upon its short-lived splendor. 
 
 The ice had melted away, and the narrow 
 central stream of the river was flowing, like a 
 winding and beautiful ribbon of indigo-blue, 
 between the white, glittering marshes on either 
 side. 
 
 A single canoe was floating down this stream, 
 with an Indian standing erect in the prow, 
 wielding a long pole to keep the boat from the 
 ice on either side, while his wife sat in the stem. 
 The picturesque and graceful form of the In 
 dian, his flowing mantle and waving plumes, 
 the ease and pliancy of his motion as he alter 
 nately bent forward, and then resumed, with 
 added power, his erect and striking attitude, 
 formed a beautiful living picture in the wide 
 expanse of the snow-clad wintry landscape. 
 
150 NAOMI. 
 
 I have lingered too long, perhaps, upon these 
 peaceful scenes, unwilling to hurry into those 
 of a darker, though more exciting interest ; for 
 the soul of my heroine was made for peace, and 
 to pursue her gentle, unobtrusive way through 
 the sheltered paths of life, revealing herself only, 
 to adopt once more the well-used metaphor, by 
 the fresher green and the lovelier flowers that 
 folio we d her course. 
 
CHAPTER XII. 
 
 SPRING. 
 
 " She brought with lirr both fruits and flowers, 
 
 Matured in other, sunnier fields, 
 Where nature in her southern bowers 
 
 A glow of milder radiance yields." SCHILLER. 
 
 THE winter had now passed away, with its 
 wild storms, its dark and its brilliant, its clear 
 and frosty days, its long nights of cold, white 
 light, that seemed like summer days robbed of 
 all heat and color. The stern and fervent Puri 
 tans of Boston went through the winter, as the 
 summer, asking for and needing no relaxation. 
 All amusements were frowned upon or forbid 
 den ; no private dancing was allowed, and if 
 detected, was severely punished. Our good fore 
 fathers had never seriously considered the con 
 sequences of stopping up the spout of the tea 
 kettle. 
 
 In the winter, families drew closer around 
 their huge and cheerful fireplaces, heaped full 
 of glowing logs. Large settles on each side 
 shut in the inmates, and formed a smaller apart 
 ment within the larger, where domestic occu- 
 
152 NAOMI. 
 
 pations, the flax-wheel and the hand-loom, with 
 family devotions, passed off the lingering hours 
 of the wintry months. In the aristocratic fam 
 ilies, among which Mr. Aldersey s was one of 
 the most distinguished, the couch, more luxuri 
 ous but less sheltered than the settle, held the 
 place of the modern sofa, and the great arm 
 chair was more honored than the luxurious fau- 
 teuil. The master of the family occupied this 
 honored chair, and with the Bible before him, 
 and every member of the family collected 
 around, the servants occupying humble seats, the 
 long winter evenings were spent in propounding 
 and explaining the Scriptures, and closed with 
 prayer. 
 
 To Naomi these quiet winter hours were never 
 tedious. She possessed that repose of mind 
 and character that was fed from within, and de 
 pending so little upon the outward for aliment, 
 even during the never-ending instructions of her 
 step-father, she appropriated only such little mor 
 sels for her own aliment, that she never felt 
 satiety. To Ruth, however, winter was intol 
 erably dull, and she hailed the first melting and 
 genial breeze that came to them from the sweet 
 south with the delight of a child. Then the 
 long, lingering spring, winter once more, and yet 
 again, returning, leaving its footprints in the 
 
NAOMI. 153 
 
 tender verdure of May, and with cold embrace, 
 like the touch of the ice-spirit, shrivelling up the 
 new-born blossom. 
 
 At length the fluctuating and inconstant 
 weather of the capricious spring settled into the 
 clear and transparent atmosphere of June. The 
 wind blew steadily from the southwest, and the 
 windows could all be left open, both day and 
 night, giving free admittance to the air of the 
 perfume-breathing orchard. The color of the 
 tender, newly expanded foliage varied from the 
 softest green of the aspen to the deep purple of 
 the oak. Every wild brier and every trodden 
 weed, every lowly-creeping plant and every as 
 piring tree, spread out its delicate blossom, unob 
 served by man ; but not less generously did it 
 add its little perfume to the incense-breathing 
 bosom of our mother earth. Beauty, too, was 
 hung upon every branch and leaf, and the earth 
 was covered with blossoms, the open eyes of 
 beauty. 
 
 On the evening of the first of June, Faith 
 and Naomi sat in the window-seat of the par 
 lour, near which flourished the English white 
 rose-tree, whose first blossom had opened its 
 petals that very day. It recalled her home to 
 Naomi, and she listened as though she could 
 catch the harmonies of her English home in the 
 
154 NAOMI. 
 
 sounds that met her ear in the hum of the even 
 ing ; but they were all unlike the rural sounds 
 of England. Ruth, still too young to relish se 
 rious conversation, had strolled out with com 
 panions of her own age. The birds, more nu 
 merous in Boston than at the present time, had 
 begun their evening song, varied by the myste 
 rious hymn of the frogs from the common, and 
 the whistle of the cow-boys as they drove their 
 charges home. 
 
 Naomi extended her arm, and plucked the rose 
 that hung within her reach. " Ah ! " she said, 
 " how tenderly does this remind me of my child 
 hood and of my dear mother ! It was her favor 
 ite among the roses ; I believe she had some 
 association connecting it with the War of the 
 Roses. It was to an ancestress of hers that those 
 beautiful lines were addressed, 
 
 If this fair rose offend thy sight, 
 
 It in thy bosom wear; 
 T will blush to find itself less white, 
 And turn Lancastrian there. 
 
 My poor nurse Margaret was always dressing 
 me up with white roses when I was a babe, 
 from which she had carefully removed all the 
 thorns, saying thus it should be all my life long ; 
 she would never let a thorn come near me." 
 " Poor Margaret ! " said Faith ; " she seems 
 
NAOMI. 155 
 
 likely now to strew them in your path ; but 
 how shall we dispose of her ? the weather will 
 soon be intolerably warm, and I am afraid she 
 will not be able to support the heat in that 
 little low-roofed garret ; her health will fail, I 
 fear." 
 
 " I have been thinking of it," said Naomi. 
 " Could we not remove her without observation 
 to my step-father s little cottage at Muddy River, 
 where she could be concealed through the hot 
 weather. Sambo is already acquainted with her 
 concealment. He would take her in the boat 
 during the darkness of the evening, and Mr. 
 Aldersey would know nothing of it." 
 
 " But," said Faith, " I fear Margaret will not 
 consent to remain concealed much longer. Her 
 affection for you is all that now restrains her 
 from breaking forth from her concealment and 
 proclaiming her new principles ; her burning zeal 
 seems to be gathering to a flame." 
 
 " Well," answered Naomi, " the last time I 
 talked with her I felt that I had no right to re 
 strain her from giving her testimony, if she can 
 do it with moderation and without descending 
 to the abuse of others. The pure spirit of truth 
 is in her heart, and though perhaps there is min 
 gled with it some ostentation, some desire to 
 make herself conspicuous, I believe she has the 
 
156 NAOMI. 
 
 true spirit of martyrdom for the truth ; and it 
 surprises me that she has consented to remain 
 concealed so long ; and, indeed, I know not 
 whether I ought to consent that, to preserve me 
 from annoyance, she should withhold her testi 
 mony to the truth." 
 
 Faith looked at Naomi with a degree of won 
 der and incredulity that brought a faint color to 
 her cheek. She said only, " You have in 
 curred all the danger that you can incur by 
 giving her shelter." Naomi sat there, calm 
 and steadfast after the expression of sentiments 
 which, if Faith had not learnt to know and ap 
 preciate Naomi s pure, truthful, transparent char 
 acter, would have curdled her blood and filled 
 her with alarm and aversion. 
 
 At this moment of their conversation they 
 were startled by the distant roll of a drum, a 
 sound which, like the tocsin during the Revolu 
 tion in France, filled every listener with conster 
 nation. The time had been purposely chosen 
 when the heads of families were resting, the la 
 bors of the day over, each under his own roof, 
 to break in upon the harmonies of the evening 
 with the appalling voice of power, and the un 
 welcome associations connected with persecu 
 tion. 
 
 The sharp and long-continued roll of the 
 
NAOMI. 157 
 
 drum drew nearer. All hastened to their win 
 dows. The sinister procession, consisting of the 
 drummer, the constable, and the town-clerk, fol 
 lowed by half a dozen boys, paused beneath the 
 window of every householder, and read the ter 
 rible proclamation in ear-piercing tones. In 
 some instances, the window was shut quickly 
 down; but those who listened heard that for 
 harbouring, assisting, encouraging, sheltering, or 
 comforting one of that accursed sect called Quak 
 ers, the offender for the first offence should be 
 punished with the loss of an ear ; for the second, 
 with whipping, and the tongue be bored through 
 with a red-hot iron. Every word was distinctly 
 heard by Naomi and Faith, and the dark proces 
 sion passed on ; and, till late in the evening, the 
 lugubrious sounds of the drum and the sharp 
 voice of the clerk were heard publishing from 
 house to house, and breaking upon the stillness 
 of the summer s night with the iron tongue of 
 threatened persecution. 
 
 At the first sound of this proclamation, Naomi 
 and Faith, as they sat in the window, exchanged 
 looks of alarm, and a slight degree of paleness 
 overspread the features of the former. A sinister 
 proclamation, like that which had just broken 
 upon the peaceful summer evening, showing the 
 unrelenting determination of the government, 
 
158 NAOMI. 
 
 was enough of itself to disturb her serenity ; but 
 Naomi had another cause for anxiety, and even 
 terror, that touched herself most nearly. 
 
 A few weeks previous to this very evening, in 
 one of those dark and tempestuous days that oc 
 cur about the time of the vernal equinox, a 
 woman had presented herself at the back door of 
 Mr. Aldersey s house, and inquired for Naomi. 
 She refused to disclose her name to Faith, who 
 had received her, and indeed sought a degree of 
 mystery and concealment, that, from her re 
 spectable appearance, did not excite in Faith s 
 candid mind any suspicion connected with guilt 
 or the necessity of caution. 
 
 When Naomi was called, she instantly recog 
 nized Margaret, the faithful servant of her moth 
 er, who had been, as we have previously men 
 tioned, the nurse of her own childhood ; and 
 apparently the immediate instrument of Naomi s 
 own change of views upon religion, the cause, 
 under Providence, of the peace that had ever 
 since dwelt in her own mind. As we have be 
 fore said, she had been left behind from motives 
 of prudence, and through Mr. Aldersey s per 
 emptory commands. Margaret had pined for her 
 nursling, and urged on, as she thought, by long 
 ing affection for Naomi, under which true feel 
 ing, indeed, there lurked a burning zeal for mar- 
 
NAOMI. 159 
 
 tyrdom, she had taken passage for Barhadoes. 
 The penalty was so severe for bringing Quakers 
 to Boston, that no captain would venture to 
 bring her from England. After a long and 
 stormy voyage to Barbadoes, she had concealed 
 the fact of her Quakerism, and had thus per 
 suaded a captain to bring her from thence to 
 Boston ; but during the voyage her burning zeal 
 had betrayed her true character to the other pas 
 sengers, and to the ship s company. 
 
 Naomi, with a gush of tender recollection of 
 her mother and of her own childhood, held out 
 her arms to the servant, and would have fallen 
 on her breast, exclaiming, " Margaret ! how 
 came you here ? Why are you here ? " 
 
 Margaret instantly put her hand upon her lips. 
 " Hush, Miss Naomi ! for Heaven s sake speak 
 low ! Do not know me ! I am pursued ! They 
 are searching the vessel, and taking the captain 
 who brought us, myself, and some others, to jail. 
 We are all hotly pursued, and I came only to 
 beg shelter for one night, or till this hot pursuit 
 be over. I inquired out your residence before 
 we landed, and I shall never be suspected of 
 seeking shelter under Mr. Aldersey s roof." 
 
 Faith, who stood by, had instantly penetrated 
 the whole mystery. Margaret, she saw, was a 
 Quaker. Naomi had often spoken of her faith- 
 
160 NAOMI. 
 
 ful nurse to Faith ; but, as she had not yet re 
 solved to make a confidant even of her, with 
 regard to her own religious views, she had not 
 mentioned the circumstance of her being a zeal 
 ous Quaker. Faith instantly saw the abyss, the 
 extent of the danger in which Naomi was in 
 volving herself. Margaret was one of the ac 
 cursed, come to throw a firebrand into that peace 
 ful household, to taint with death the purest 
 spot in the church. She steeled her heart, and, 
 turning to Naomi, said, " It is impossible that 
 this woman can be sheltered here. She must 
 not, for a single night, rest under this roof." 
 And, turning to Margaret, " You must take 
 the consequences of your imprudence. You are 
 a Quaker ; and if you were my own sister, I 
 should shut the door in your face ! " 
 
 The woman looked at Naomi. At this mo 
 ment there was a rush in the street, as if in pur 
 suit of some fugitive. Naomi instinctively drew 
 Margaret within the kitchen, and at the same 
 instant shut and bolted the outward door. At 
 that moment there was a loud knocking at the 
 front door. Naomi hastened Margaret up the 
 back stairs, and concealed her in a small closet, 
 where articles of apparel were hanging thick ; 
 behind these, and almost in danger of suffoca 
 tion, she locked her in. Fortunately, there had 
 
NAOMI. 161 
 
 been no one in the kitchen at the time of this 
 interruption except Faith, who was kneading 
 bread. She had quietly resumed her work when 
 Naomi returned, and said a few words to her in 
 a low voice. The deed was done, and now the 
 faithfulness and generosity of Faith s nature were 
 enlisted in the concealment to which she had so 
 reluctantly consented. 
 
 Naomi took up her knitting again in the par 
 lour. All this passed so quickly that old Sambo 
 had only sufficient time to usher those who had 
 been knocking at the front door into that apart 
 ment. Mr. Aldersey sat comfortably in his great 
 arm-chair by the fireside j two centuries later, the 
 newspaper would have been before him ; but he 
 now held in his hand the Rev. Mr. Norton s 
 tractate against the Quakers, that bitter essay, 
 for writing which he received a hundred acres 
 of land from the General Court. 
 
 The constable, for such it was, and the cap 
 tain of the ship, who had offered, upon condition 
 of his own release, to discover the hiding-places 
 of his passengers, abruptly declared the cause of 
 their intrusion by saying that one of the women 
 had been seen to run for refuge to and to enter 
 the back premises of this house. 
 
 Mr. Aldersey laid down his book, and rose, 
 with offended dignity. "He should have sup- 
 11 
 
162 NAOMI. 
 
 posed," he said, " that, from his known character, 
 an elder of the church, also ; a magistrate, strict 
 in the discharge of his duty ; a church-member, 
 well known for his zeal and his hatred against 
 all heretics, especially Quakers, he should have 
 expected to be exempt from such base suspicions 
 and such intrusive visits." 
 
 The constable, however, insisted upon doing 
 his duty, and Mr. Aldersey ordered Sambo to ac 
 company them upon their search. Naomi had 
 glided unobserved from the parlour. As the 
 constable entered the kitchen, Faith took her 
 hands from the bread she was kneading, de 
 liberately wiped off the flour, and with imper 
 turbable calmness lighted another candle, ready 
 to accompany them on their search. 
 
 After they had examined all the other cham 
 bers, " This," said Naomi, who had joined 
 them on the stairs, " this is my own room," as 
 she opened the door of the chamber where Ruth, 
 her sister, was apparently fast asleep in her own 
 bed ; "enter softly here, or you will awake and 
 frighten my sister. It might produce serious 
 consequences to awake her suddenly, with men 
 and strangers in her room." 
 
 The constable drew back j he had that very 
 evening left his own, only child asleep near 
 its mother, when he was called out upon this 
 
NAOMI. 163 
 
 duty, and the last image that remained upon his 
 mind was that of its sleeping form. He drew 
 back, and they closed the door of the chamber, 
 within which was the closet where Margaret was 
 concealed. 
 
 The constables returned to the kitchen and 
 examined the servants, who had again collected. 
 The servants knew nothing, for one had been 
 absent feeding the beasts in the stable, another 
 had gone to the cellar, and Sambo was with his 
 master, setting out the table and the Bible for 
 evening worship. Naomi, by her ingenuity, had 
 saved Margaret. She had glided up stairs while 
 the constable was talking with her step-father, 
 and persuaded Ruth to put herself into bed and 
 imitate sleep. By the happy coincidence of the 
 constable s sleeping child, Margaret was undiscov 
 ered ; and from that hour till this very evening 
 Naomi had sheltered and concealed her. To Faith 
 alone was this concealment known. Ruth sus 
 pected, but did not know, that Margaret was the 
 tenant of a small garret, that was always kept 
 locked ; but upon Mr. Aldersey s mind had never 
 dawned the slightest shade of suspicion that his 
 orthodox roof sheltered an accursed heretic and 
 Quaker. 
 
 Partly from fear, and from illness that succeed 
 ed the fatigues of her voyage, and partly from 
 
164 
 
 NAOMI. 
 
 gratitude and affection, that induced Margaret 
 not to compromise her benefactress, they had 
 succeeded in keeping her quiet ; but the state of 
 Naomi s mind, her sympathy with the belief, if 
 not with the outward distinctions, of Quaker 
 ism, inevitably became known to Faith. Naomi 
 would have been glad if Faith had learned it 
 from her own spontaneous confession ; but it 
 was better so : before she learned it, she had be 
 come acquainted with the angelic purity and 
 beauty of Naomi s character ; " and if," said 
 Faith, " Quakerism produces such fruits, better 
 were it that the whole colony were Quakers." 
 
 Naomi and Faith did not leave Margaret to 
 the solitude of her garret ; although the state of 
 exaltation in which she was, like the delirium of 
 a person slightly insane, made her totally indif 
 ferent to the place in which she dwelt, yet they 
 did not leave her alone. As soon as Ruth had 
 retired for the night, they resorted to her little 
 room. At such times, Naomi s pale complexion 
 and the pure outline of her features were denned 
 by the light of the fire, for they dared not take 
 a candle, and this uncertain and varying play of 
 light gave her the form and expression of an 
 angel visitant ; and as she sat between the two 
 women, the one burning with heretical zeal, the 
 other shuddering with all the horror and detesta- 
 
NAOMI. 165 
 
 tion of the times against the heresy, tolerating 
 the heretic only from feelings of humanity, 
 Naomi was indeed what she seemed, a mediating 
 and reconciling spirit. 
 
 The conversation often reverted to the mother 
 country, and to circumstances that occurred 
 there. I have said above that Faith never sus 
 pected Naomi s Quaker principles, as there was 
 nothing peculiar in the exterior to betray the 
 secret fountain that fed and refreshed the roots 
 from which sprang the fresh and lovely flowers 
 of her every-day life. One evening, Margaret, 
 led on by reminiscences of home, mentioned the 
 meeting when they had been so much moved by 
 the preaching of George Fox. 
 
 Naomi looked at Faith while she answered, 
 " Ah, yes ! I never can forget what has changed 
 the whole complexion of my character and given 
 peace to my soul." 
 
 Faith did not start, nor express any surprise ; 
 but she turned very pale, and, looking again at 
 Naomi, she rose to leave the room. 
 
 " Stay, Faith," said Naomi ; and, taking her 
 gently around the waist, she drew her again into 
 her chair. " You must know it sooner or later," 
 she added. " I, too, am a Quaker, a Quaker in 
 heart and principle ; but I do not feel compelled, 
 as others do, to proclaim my faith to the world. 
 
166 NAOMI. 
 
 I am but a babe and a humble learner in this 
 pure belief, and do not yet feel it my privilege to 
 encounter martyrdom." 
 
 Faith looked at Naomi, as though possessing 
 herself completely of the meaning of her words, 
 and repeated very slowly the words Naomi had 
 used, pausing between every syllable : " You 
 are a Quaker in heart and principle, you are 
 
 a Quaker Ah, well ! that cannot be an 
 
 evil faith, that cannot lead to evil that produ 
 ces such fruits as I see in you." 
 
 Faith s plain good-sense and candid dispo 
 sition had come exactly to the truth ; she had 
 struck the nail upon the head ; illiterate, but 
 true and simple-minded, she had discerned the 
 truth, that could not be bad in itself that 
 cherished and fed with its secret springs the 
 beautiful riches, the lovely graces, of such a 
 character as Naomi s. It was the abuse, the ex 
 travagance, the perversion of these pure princi 
 ples, she thought, that did so much mischief. 
 
 " Well," said Margaret, her zeal beginning 
 to kindle ; " you see what are the fruits of pure 
 Quakerism ; you see them in Miss Naomi ; will 
 you not also inquire and be convinced, and join 
 the company of the faithful." 
 
 " No," said Faith, and she shook her head ; 
 " I am content with my own church. It is 
 
NAOMI. 167 
 
 good enough for me. I must be permitted to 
 go to heaven in the old way. I believe it has 
 done very well for every body since the days of 
 the Apostle Paul. I think it quite unnecessary, 
 to say the least, to give new names to old things ; 
 and, as far as I can see, Miss Naomi s faith pro 
 duces as good works as Mr. Wilson s, or even our 
 old minister s, whom I remember well, Mr. Cotton ; 
 there never was a holier saint ; but I dare say he 
 has met in heaven many that he never expected 
 to welcome there." 
 
 " Yes," said Naomi, " the paths diverge, but 
 they meet at the gate ; and O, how many shall 
 we there find with their beautiful robes, the 
 white robes of seraphs, who have here sat in 
 the dust and ashes of contempt ; who have been 
 turned from the gates of the church ; whom the 
 Pharisees have passed by, shaking their robes as 
 they passed them lest they should have con 
 tracted the taint of heresy ! " 
 
 Faith, thus admitted to the confidence of Na 
 omi, felt a more tender, a more watchful interest 
 in her. Humble as was her situation in the 
 family, she had thoroughly penetrated the char 
 acter of Mr. Aldersey. She knew that even 
 the selfish hope of inheriting the fortune of Na 
 omi would not restrain him from showing his 
 bitter animosity, if the disgrace of heresy was 
 
168 NAOMI. 
 
 brought upon his roof-tree. She felt from this 
 moment a double guardianship of Naomi s rep 
 utation, and of her actual safety under the roof 
 of her step-father. 
 
 It had required the utmost watchfulness, both 
 from Faith and Naomi, to prevent Margaret, 
 burning as she was with Quaker zeal, from 
 lifting up her voice, even in Mr. Aldersey s fam 
 ily. She also had this evening heard the hol 
 low thundering of that drum, and the murder 
 ous voice breaking in upon the quiet of the 
 summer evening, to proclaim infamous penalties 
 upon her benefactress, and she instantly resolved 
 to leave the shelter of that roof. It cannot be 
 denied, also, that there was something in the 
 touch of that drum, in the proclamation of those 
 ignominious penalties, that gave air to the strug 
 gling fire in her breast and kindled it to a flame. 
 She believed it was the voice of God calling 
 upon her to take her part in the persecution and 
 martyrdom that were beginning again with re 
 newed bitterness. She secretly left the house 
 that night, and joined a party of Quakers al 
 ready in Boston. 
 
 Persecution now awoke with tenfold severity ; 
 and the irregularities and extravagances of the 
 Quakers increased with the severity of the 
 measures of the government. Every day some 
 
NAOMI. 169 
 
 new punishment, some whipping, or some brand 
 ing was the subject of conversation. It is well 
 known that the female Quakers defied and pro 
 voked the utmost severity of the laws. They 
 proclaimed their opinions in immodest garb, and 
 in the public streets ; they went into the meet 
 ing-houses in sackcloth, with ashes on their 
 heads, and their faces painted with odious colors ; 
 they insulted the ministers, and defied the mag 
 istrates at the foot of the pillory and the scaffold. 
 They even courted death. Mary Dyer, who 
 had been twice banished from Boston, and once 
 reprieved from the scaffold with the rope around 
 her neck, had this very spring returned again to 
 Boston, determined to brave the utmost penalty, 
 to offer herself up a martyr to the cause. 
 
 The government would bear with her no 
 longer ; the day of her execution was appointed. 
 In the mean time Margaret, as soon as she was 
 away from the guardianship of her benefactress, 
 conducted in so imprudent a manner as to come 
 under the severe penalty of the law, and was 
 immediately arrested and placed with others in 
 the Boston jail. Naomi s mind was filled with 
 anxiety, not on her own account, for no one 
 had dared to question her, and the opinions 
 she kept locked in her own breast could not 
 
170 NAOMI. 
 
 come under the cognizance of the civil tribunal, 
 but she felt bound by tender ties to Margaret ; 
 she could not abandon her, and she felt a pre 
 sentiment that she should herself become in 
 volved in her fate. 
 
CHAPTER XIII. 
 
 I WOULD here pause for a moment before de 
 scribing that atrocious act that disgraces the 
 annals of our early history, the execution at 
 the gallows of that aged, feeble, desolate old 
 woman, whose gray head Nature herself, in a 
 few short years, would have laid in the grave, 
 to recall all the circumstances that can possibly 
 palliate, if not justify, the deed. 
 
 The Quakers at this time had become an in 
 tolerable, an unbearable affliction to our fathers. 
 They had warned and threatened them, pun 
 ished and banished, but all in vain. Where one 
 was banished, ten returned in his place. Their 
 insulting and blasphemous language was not the 
 half that the ministers and magistrates had to 
 bear with ; the low order of Quakers that visit 
 ed this country endeavoured by every mean and 
 malicious tale, by every secret and unfair prac 
 tice, to injure the fair fame and impair the use 
 fulness of the ministers. They endeavoured to 
 make divisions in the church and in families, 
 infusing bitterness into the hearts of church- 
 members, dividing children against their par- 
 
172 NAOMI. 
 
 ents, and even severing the ties that bound 
 together the wife and the husband. Their 
 efforts all tended to the subversion of civil order, 
 and to bring anarchy into the church and into 
 the government of the country. We may also 
 add, what no doubt was, to our ancestors, a suffi 
 cient justification of their course, that they only 
 followed the example of the mother country in 
 their treatment of the Quakers. Till after ( the 
 return of the second Charles, branding and mu 
 tilating was the practice of England, a practice 
 whose fruit, indeed, had been like the apples of 
 Sodom, ashes and bitterness. If the light of 
 toleration had not dawned in England, how 
 could it be expected to shine upon these western 
 shores ? Ah ! that sun was far below the hori 
 zon ; it can scarcely yet be said to have risen 
 above the thick night of bigotry. We can hard 
 ly tell what would have been the result, if our 
 fathers had loved religious liberty as well as they 
 did civil emancipation ; if they had been so far 
 before their age as to have tolerated a difference 
 in religious opinions, or acted with the simple 
 good-sense of Faith, and, looking beyond the 
 fanatics, had observed the life of the purest 
 among the Quakers. At this very time there 
 were pure, noble-minded, sincere, and pious 
 Quakers, even among those who came to these 
 western shores. 
 
NAOMI. 173 
 
 As was mentioned in the last chapter, the ex 
 ecution of Mary Dyer had been appointed for 
 the next day. It was Thursday, and an addi 
 tional solemnity was given to the act by its 
 taking place immediately before the Lecture. 
 She had wantonly returned to brave martyrdom, 
 to throw herself into the arms of the execution 
 er, and the forbearance of our fathers could be 
 no longer sustained. The proceedings of the 
 court were summary indeed. Twenty-four hours 
 were all that was allowed her ! " Prepare your 
 self," said the governor ; "for to-morrow morning 
 at nine o clock you die ! " Neither her silvered 
 head, nor the voices of her kneeling children, 
 nor the eloquent petition of her husband, that 
 seemed wrung from his heart with passionate 
 tears, could move the court to relent at " her in 
 considerate madness," nor allow " the wings of 
 mercy to soar above the balance of justice." It 
 was necessary to strike terror into that ever-in 
 creasing and audacious sect ; to show the Quak 
 ers that they could not breathe in New England. 
 
 The sun rose that June morning, like the sun 
 of any other day, upon the waveless mirror of 
 the bay, where every mast and spar of the ship 
 ping, every softly undulating outline or bold 
 headland of the coast and islands, was rendered 
 more beautifully soft, as it was seen reflected 
 
174 NAOMI. 
 
 in the transparent water. The perfect calm of 
 the water, and a light breath of wind from the 
 east, but not enough to fill the sails, suspended a 
 few fishing-vessels motionless, resting doubled, 
 the reflected one the more distinctly defined 
 upon the smooth and burnished mirror of the bay. 
 
 This sabbath of our little world, this silent 
 hymn of nature, was soon to be broken by rude 
 sounds, and the lovely beauty of God s creation 
 profaned by the bleeding offering of man s pas 
 sions. The solitudes of the New World had 
 seen few such base and bloody deeds. The In 
 dian, indeed, tortured and slew his enemies ; but 
 it was a noble sacrifice. He yielded to the 
 promptings of a " great revenge " ; he had the 
 stern justice of the conqueror to excuse an act, 
 which would have been inexorably fulfilled on 
 him had he been conquered j but it was the 
 white man and the follower of the martyr, he 
 who called himself a Christian, that first in 
 sulted the virgin beauty of our New World with 
 ignoble revenge, and, like Cain, slew his brother 
 because the offerings upon their religious altars 
 differed in quality and form. 
 
 Soon after sunrise the tranquillity of this love 
 ly summer morning was broken by the drum 
 calling the officers and soldiers of the different 
 companies together. Near the training-field, the 
 
NAOMI. 175 
 
 sound of the carpenter s saw and axe gave awful 
 note that the hasty preparations were completing. 
 Naomi, as she stood early at her window over 
 looking the principal highway across the Neck, 
 soon saw it covered with carts and horsemen, 
 with pedestrians, and vehicles of every descrip 
 tion then known in the New World. The free 
 men from the surrounding towns were hastening 
 into Boston. They were for the most part staid, 
 serious, and intellectual-looking men, in rather 
 plain clothes, for the dress of the gentlemen of the 
 city was richer than that of those of the country. 
 The horsemen had their wives or daughters be 
 hind them, dressed in close-cut velvet hoods, fast 
 ened beneath the chin. This " French hood," 
 so fashionable at this period, was cut very much 
 in front like what has since been called the 
 " Marie Stuart cap," and was now, by most of 
 the Boston dames, worn without a veil. The 
 Rev. Mr. /Norton, as we have already mentioned, 
 had lately preached against the abomination of 
 veils, and the ladies had laid them aside. It 
 seems strange to us that masks, also an article of 
 ladies attire, universally worn when they en 
 countered the meridian sun of a summer s day, 
 should have passed uncensured, while the inno 
 cent veil was anathematized by the guardians of 
 private morals. From the universal picturesque- 
 
176 NAOMI. 
 
 ness of attire worn at this period, the groups upon 
 the Neck presented little monotony of appear 
 ance, and here and there appeared a country 
 demoiselle, masked and alone, on horseback, ex 
 ulting in her gayer dress and independent po 
 sition. These parties, as they entered the town, 
 thronged to the lower part of the training-field, 
 extending then to the south part of Washing 
 ton Street, the spot of most absorbing interest. 
 
 The ferry-boats passed continually back and 
 forth, freighted with people hastening to the 
 spectacle. Charles River and the inner bay were 
 also covered with innumerable boats, all freight 
 ed with people bearing the same general aspect 
 of serious, reflective, and even stern expression. 
 They gathered in knots, or passed silently 
 through the streets to the training-field. There 
 was no exultation, no joyous sound ; all wore 
 stern and solemn faces, and spoke in low voices, 
 while an expression of anxious care sat on every 
 brow. 
 
 It is well known that the people did not all 
 go with the ministers and the magistrates in 
 their severe views, nor believe in the necessity 
 of hanging the Quakers. They also trembled 
 for their own liberties, when they considered the 
 great assumption of power by the magistrates. 
 The sentence for the execution of Mary Dyer had 
 
NAOMI. 177 
 
 passed by one vote only. Women, the whole 
 sex, had felt themselves deeply aggrieved by 
 seeing numbers of that sex, young and old, strip 
 ped to the waist, and whipped through the pub 
 lic streets ; but the odium attached to the ac 
 cursed sect was still great, and the influence of 
 the ministers in full force. Endicott, the stern 
 governor, was determined to rid the country of 
 these children of the Evil One. Ah, how did 
 the rigid old man deceive himself! The histo 
 ries of the period give us room to say, that much 
 of their heresy consisted in the disrespect of al 
 ways remaining covered in his presence. 
 
 But the hour for the execution drew near. 
 The training-field, then, as now, a grassy in- 
 closure, surrounded with trees, was soon filled 
 with a dense crowd. The beautiful slopes of 
 Beacon Hill were covered with the lighter and 
 more varied drapery of women and children. 
 Immediately around the scaffold was a cleared 
 inclosure, where the ministers and magistrates 
 were to take their places. Now the drums were 
 heard and the measured tread of soldiers, and a 
 throng of people appeared, headed by the govern 
 or and his halberdiers, with the ministers of a 
 compassionate and peace-loving religion, all this 
 array of terror to conduct a feeble, gray-headed 
 woman to expiate the sin of thinking for herself! 
 12 
 
178 
 
 NAOMI. 
 
 Silence was proclaimed ; and now the Rev. 
 Mr. Norton s deep voice broke upon the hushed 
 attention with the words of the psalm : 
 
 " He that in heaven sits shall laugh, 
 The Lord shall scorn them all ; 
 Then shall he speak to them in wrath, 
 In rage he vex them shall." 
 
 Immediately after the psalm, which sounded 
 far over, and was echoed back by the hills, the 
 wan and melancholy face of Wilson was seen to 
 ascend the scaffold. He had passed through 
 many and deep domestic sorrows, had borne 
 the death of his accomplished son, that broke the 
 heart of the too tender mother, the loss of both 
 his daughters, and of many lovely grandchildren ; 
 these sorrows had worn deep traces upon the 
 man, but they had not subdued the stern, un 
 relenting Puritan. The heart of the man was 
 melting and full of love, but the soul of the Cal- 
 vinist Avas fierce and bitter. Such was the rev 
 erence in which Mr. Wilson was held, that 
 throughout that vast multitude not a whisper 
 or a sound was heard during an hour that he 
 held them in breathless attention, reminding 
 them of the judgment of God upon Korah. " Get 
 you up from this congregation, that I may con 
 sume them in a moment." The parallel be 
 tween the rebellion of Korah against Moses and 
 
NAOMI. 179 
 
 Aaron, and that of the Quakers against the 
 church, was drawn with so much energy, with 
 such an overpowering eloquence, that the ex 
 cited people were ready to rush upon the scaffold 
 and take his office out of the hands of the exe 
 cutioner, and tear the victim to pieces. 
 
 ***** 
 I draw a veil over the rest of the transactions 
 of that unhappy day, when the sweet June air 
 upon Boston common was tainted by the expir 
 ing breath of an aged woman, a martyr to re 
 ligious opinions. The sun had reached the me 
 ridian when the crowds began to disperse and 
 the people to seek their homes. The little town 
 was full of strangers and visitors, drawn from 
 every part of the country to witness the strange 
 but exciting scene. The enthusiasm and tone 
 of fervor were kept up to the highest point of 
 exaltation by the Thursday Lecture, that fol 
 lowed immediately after the execution. The 
 ministers embraced the occasion to excite the 
 lukewarm, to reconcile the disaffected, and to 
 confirm the zealous and the persecuting in the 
 belief that they were doing God service. Their 
 prayers were more fervent than usual ; they 
 thanked God from the bottom of their devout 
 hearts for ridding them of the evil-doer, for 
 
180 
 
 NAOMI. 
 
 silencing the tongue of the profane, and cutting 
 off those who would scatter blasphemies and 
 heresies through the land. 
 
 Thus did they harden and deceive their own 
 consciences. - 
 
CHAPTER XIV. 
 
 " All great desires that God hath given 
 
 Are prophecies of powers, 
 But genius, though the gift of Heaven, 
 Demands laborious hours." 
 
 IN order to connect the different characters 
 that take their humble part in our story, we must 
 go back some ten years, and to a lonely farm 
 house that stood somewhere between the rocky 
 heights of Roxbury and the meadows of Muddy 
 River. This farm had been allotted to one of 
 the early settlers, a yeoman from the mother 
 country, who had labored hard to bring it into 
 the high cultivation that had so charmed his 
 eyes and cheered his labors upon his father s 
 farm at home. But the sterile soil, the rocky 
 nature of the ground, the long and severe frosts 
 of the winters, and the fact that the husbandry 
 of England was not wholly adapted to the differ 
 ence of our soil and climate, a truth that our 
 fathers were slow to learn, had caused him to 
 go every year more and more behindhand, and 
 had drawn many furrows in his honest and ex 
 panded brow. 
 
 It was the closing in of the evening in the 
 
182 NAOMI. 
 
 latter part of December, a cold and dark evening, 
 for there had been a heavy fall of snow, and the 
 trees were loaded and bent with this beautiful 
 white frosting of winter ; the branches of the 
 hemlocks, bowed into graceful and waving forms 
 by the weight of the incumbent snow, looked 
 in the dusky light like bunches of enormous 
 plumes, and might have served for the gigantic 
 helmet of the castle of Otranto. The farm 
 house, an unusual circumstance, stood retired 
 from the road, and a slightly trodden path upon 
 the deep snow led up to its door-step. 
 
 The evening was closing in ; the cattle and 
 domestic animals had been housed and fed ; the 
 cows had yielded their evening repast, the fowls 
 all roosted beneath a shed as near the house as 
 they could find shelter, crowding themselves to 
 gether beneath the friendly protection of man. 
 The human inmates of this farm-house were 
 collected together in the kitchen, where a large 
 fire burned brightly in the huge chimney-place. 
 The farmer himself, whose open and healthy 
 countenance began to be shadowed over with 
 deep lines of care, sat by a solitary candle, 
 with papers before him, and seemed deeply in 
 volved in the intricacies of calculations of gain 
 and loss. His wife, a woman of a mild and 
 saintly countenance, sat nearer the chimney, 
 
NAOMI. 183 
 
 spinning fine thread of flax upon a small foot- 
 wheel. A healthy young girl about fifteen years 
 old, with the fair complexion and open and rud 
 dy countenance of her father, was busy with 
 domestic cares, clearing away the supper-table 
 and arranging every thing neatly in the apart 
 ment. 
 
 These were not all the inmates of this quiet, 
 though spacious and well-arranged room, for it 
 served the purposes of kitchen and parlour. It 
 was the room, also, for all domestic farm-work, 
 and a large moreen curtain hanging in front of a 
 turned-up bedstead, showed that it could be used 
 when needed as a sleeping apartment. Hanging 
 shelves were suspended from the bare rafters, 
 upon which rested the produce of a former dairy, 
 when the farmer was richer and his wife more 
 robust. Large cheeses showed the industry of 
 the wife, and the generous return the cows had 
 made. Sheaves of corn and flitches of bacon 
 were also suspended around the apartment. 
 The immense fire-place and hearth, with the 
 high-backed settles on each side, portioned off 
 that inner side of the room as the more domestic 
 and private sanctuary of the family. 
 
 There was another inmate. Near his moth 
 er s chair and under the shadow of the huge fire 
 place, so that the light of the pine fire fell upon 
 
184 NAOMI. 
 
 the pages of his book, reclined, in what seemed 
 an uneasy posture, a boy of eleven years, whose 
 attention was so entirely fixed upon the book he 
 was reading, that the supper had been on the 
 table, partaken of by the others, and finished, 
 while he had not heeded the various calls he had 
 received to join the meal ; till at last his sister 
 kindly placed his supper upon the settle that 
 stood near, and screened him from observation, 
 till she had induced him to swallow that which 
 his mother would not allow him wholly to neg 
 lect. Then he resumed his uneasy position, 
 kneeling with his head bent over the book, so 
 that his hair fell over and completely concealed 
 his countenance. 
 
 The supper had now been wholly dismissed, 
 the hearth swept, and additional pine knots 
 heightened the cheerful light of the room. The 
 daughter of the family placed the Bible and 
 psalm-book before her father, and the farm ser 
 vants, two sturdy and staid young Puritans, were 
 summoned from the outer shed, where the pa 
 tient cow stood to be relieved of her fragrant 
 and delicious burden, when a slight knock was 
 heard at the door, and, without waiting for a 
 bidding, the latch was instantly lifted. 
 
 The person who entered was welcomed with 
 deep reverence, but with no loud demonstrations 
 
NAOMI. 185 
 
 of joy. His face was nearly concealed by a 
 broad-brimmed, flapping hat. He was slender 
 and thin, with deep-sunk and piercing eyes, a 
 complexion rather brown than pale, but worn 
 and attenuated, as though exhausted with severe 
 labors and midnight studies. 
 
 Mr. Eliot, the apostle of the Indians, had 
 walked from his residence in Roxbury to this 
 remote farm-house, standing, however, within 
 the limits of his parish ; but he had come upon 
 a benevolent errand, a message of hope, that 
 gave to his countenance an expression of angelic 
 goodness. 
 
 He was immediately relieved of his heavy 
 overcoat, bound around his waist with a leathern 
 belt, and when his hat was thrown aside, his 
 hair, cut short around his neck, presented a strik 
 ing contrast to the fashion of the period. Mr. 
 Eliot s well-known aversion to the fashion of 
 the day was strikingly illustrated by his own 
 example. After the fi?st greetings were over, 
 the great arm-chair was drawn towards the 
 exhilarating blaze of the fire, and the farmer, 
 pointing to the Bible, invited Mr. Eliot to lead 
 the devotions of the evening. It is well known 
 how fervent, yet how familiar, were the prayers 
 of this eminent apostle ; that he was gifted with 
 that extraordinary eloquence which raised the 
 
186 NAOMI. 
 
 soul above the earth and placed it at the gate of 
 heaven ; and yet the occupations and cares of 
 earth were not left behind, but elevated and sanc 
 tified. I have quoted what was said of him by a 
 contemporary, that his lips were like the box of 
 precious ointment opened by Mary, they shed 
 a grateful odor over the common affairs of life. 
 From his prayer an attentive listener might have 
 learned the object of his visit, which concerned 
 the youth, who sat bent over his book with such 
 profound attention that he had not observed the 
 entrance of Mr. Eliot, and had only laid his 
 book aside at prayers by a command from his 
 mother. But when Mr. Eliot, speaking to his 
 father in a low voice, mentioned his desire to take 
 the boy under his own instruction, and fit him to 
 enter college, he raised and turned towards him 
 a countenance animated with hope and radi 
 ant with intelligence. Perceiving that he was 
 heard, Mr. Eliot spoke aloud j he said he had 
 observed the quickness, the diligence, and prog 
 ress of the boy at the common school, and it 
 would be opposing the leading of Providence to 
 let him languish without instruction. If God 
 had distinguished him, as he believed, with gifts, 
 it would be a reproach to them not to honor 
 those whom God had honored. He came to pro 
 pose to take the boy into his own family, and 
 to complete his preparation for college. 
 
NAOMI. 187 
 
 This proposal was received with various but 
 strong emotions by the different members of the 
 family. The tender mother folded her hands, as 
 though in thankfulness, and looked up with de 
 vout gratitude. The seriousness of the father s 
 face deepened, and the furrows of his forehead 
 contracted almost to a frown. The sister drew 
 near her brother and sat down on the corner of 
 the settle to protect him, as though he were im 
 mediately to be taken from them. But the 
 boy himself, his beautiful countenance flushed 
 with joy, threw back the curls that shaded his 
 face, and fixed his eyes upon Mr. Eliot, the an 
 gel of good to him ; then, observing the ominous 
 silence of his parents, he augured, from the little 
 alacrity with which they received the proposal, a 
 disappointment of his hopes, and he turned away 
 again, and burst into tears. The good, he felt, 
 was too great for him to hope for ; the expense 
 would be too enormous for his parents to bear, 
 and the momentary exhilaration of hope died 
 away within his breast in bitter disappointment. 
 The father gratefully, but with decided inde 
 pendence, declined the proposal of the reverend 
 gentleman. An imperative reason was, that 
 he could not afford to spare his son s labors 
 from the farm. None of his family, he said, had 
 been scholars or ministers ; they had been of 
 
188 NAOMI. 
 
 Adam s profession, tillers of the ground; their 
 hands were hardened to the plough-tail, and 
 could scarcely bend to the pen ; and, thank God ! 
 he was content to have his only son follow the 
 honest calling of his father ; and besides, his 
 own opinion was that a pious soul could be as 
 near to God in the field, under the open sky, as 
 if he was lifted up in the pulpit, praying under 
 the sounding-board of the meeting-house. 
 
 The mother had hitherto kept silence, al 
 though it was apparent that she was deeply 
 moved. At length she said, meekly, " He is 
 our youngest, the last born of many sons, who are 
 waiting for us beyond the Jordan, in the prom 
 ised land, our Benjamin ! In my prayers I 
 have consecrated him to the service of God, but 
 it would be beyond our deserts, and beyond my 
 hopes, to see him a servant of the church, a 
 minister of the Gospel." 
 
 " But," said Mr. Eliot, turning to the father, 
 " he is not strong enough for the labors of the 
 field ; a hardy hand that you could hire would 
 do three times the work of that boy ; his frame 
 is fragile, his body as well as mind too tender 
 for hard work ; he would break down under the 
 ploughshare." And Mr. Eliot soon drew from 
 the father the real cause of his opposition; 
 which was the fear of pecuniary disability to 
 
NAOMI. 189 
 
 meet the expense ; they had no money ; they 
 lived without luxuries, upon the produce of the 
 farm, and the wife and daughter spun and wove 
 all the articles of their clothing. 
 
 " Is money all that is needed? " said the other. 
 " Ah ! how much easier is it to find money 
 than the gifts and graces," he added, in a low 
 voice, "that boy will bring to the service of 
 the church ! " 
 
 The reverend gentleman that afternoon had 
 called upon the treasurer and received his half- 
 year s salary, and at that moment it was tied in 
 his pocket-handkerchief. He took it from his 
 pocket, intending to present the boy with two or 
 three crowns ; but, after trying for a long time at 
 the knot, he could not loosen it. " Ah ! " said 
 he ; " God means you should have it all " ; and 
 he threw the handkerchief into the lap of the 
 mother.* 
 
 She raised her eyes, overflowing with tears, to 
 his face ; but the independent father stepped for 
 ward, and, taking the money instantly from her 
 hands, returned it to Mr. Eliot. 
 
 " Take it as a loan, I beseech you," said Mr. 
 Eliot ; " hire another hand for your farm, and let 
 that boy come to me. He shall repay me ten 
 fold when he is settled in God s vineyard." 
 
 * An authentic incident. 
 
190 NAOMI. 
 
 The tender and pious mother would fain have 
 told of answered prayers, that, like the mother 
 of Samuel, she had devoted her son from his 
 birth to the service of God, that, bereft of all 
 her other sons, she had prayed for this one, that 
 she might give him back again, of his early 
 docility, and how she had fed his infant mind 
 with stories of Joseph and David, of Jesus and 
 of John, so that from his birth he had been nour 
 ished upon the milk of the word ; but Mr. Eliot 
 hastened away to avoid a possibility of the re 
 turn of the money, and to spare the mother all 
 expression of gratitude. The farmer followed 
 him out of the door, and said, "I receive that 
 money, reverend Sir, only as a loan, which I 
 shall faithfully appropriate, and by the strictest 
 economy will soon discharge the debt." 
 
 " My friend," said Mr. Eliot, " do not be un 
 easy j the boy will repay me, not in silver coin, 
 but in treasures I prize more highly. I shall 
 not miss the money ; I am well provided. If I 
 had not left it here, the knot would have been 
 just as hard to untie at the next house I entered. 
 Your wife may return the handkerchief to Mrs. 
 Eliot. I left it by accident here, you know. 
 Good night ! " 
 
CHAPTER XV. 
 
 THE courteous reader is requested to return 
 with us, eight or nine years later, to the farm 
 house that had been the scene of the transaction 
 related in the last chapter. It was then Decem 
 ber, and winter had shrouded the scene in a 
 uniform gloom ; it is now July, and the farm is 
 on the southern or sunny side of the peninsula 
 of Boston. At this time there was not that dif 
 ference between the northern and southern as 
 pects of the surrounding country that there is at 
 the present day. Chelsea, Mystic, and Medford 
 were then highly cultivated as farms, and not 
 wholly stripped of their noble forests as we see 
 them now. We are happy to say, that cultiva 
 tion and tasteful floriculture are beginning to 
 make the northern side of Boston the garden 
 that it was in the early settlement of the coun 
 try. The town of Roxbury possessed beautiful 
 farms, but beyond that, Brookline, then called 
 Muddy River, deserved not the appellation of 
 the pleasure-garden of Norfolk, although its wild 
 beauties far surpassed those which the hand of man 
 has given it as a dowry. It was principally used 
 
192 NAOMI. 
 
 for grazing cattle, for which its meadows and 
 sheltered nooks of rich pasturage were partic 
 ularly adapted. At this time there were a few 
 houses at what was afterwards known as the 
 Punch-Bowl village, and a road from thence to 
 Cambridge ; but the winding lanes leading into 
 the beautiful secluded dells, tapestried so richly 
 with wild vines and all the treasures of Flora, 
 were then undiscovered. 
 
 At the time of our tale, in 1660, upon the 
 road leading through Roxbury to Dedham, there 
 stood a rude stone, upon which was marked, in 
 still ruder letters, " To Boston 5 miles." A few 
 rods before reaching this mile-stone, a cart-path 
 ran off upon the right hand, which, if the trav 
 eller or pedestrian pursued for about a mile, 
 brought him to a lovely sheet of water, set like a 
 precious gem within a frame of gently swelling 
 land. Upon two sides the hills rose to a mod 
 erate height, and were clothed to the top with 
 noble hemlocks, but fringed near the border of 
 the lake with the lighter foliage of aspens and 
 weeping birches, that hung their pensile branch 
 es in the water. The perfect beauty and trans 
 parency of this lovely mirror were marvellous to 
 the eye. The solitude of the spot made it the 
 favorite haunt of every spring and summer bird. 
 Here were combined all the softer harmonies of 
 
NAOMI. 193 
 
 nature, the low voice of the wind in the sum 
 mer foliage, and its dirge-like tone as it vibrated 
 in the branches of the hemlock. Here were the 
 blackbird s tender. whistle, and the shriller song 
 of the golden robin, and the joyous carol of the 
 bobolink, with the murmur of a fresh, sparkling 
 brook that fed the lake, and which entered one 
 side with so much force as to send the little 
 waves rippling with a silver sound upon the 
 sandy beach of a little peninsula that broke the 
 uniformity of its oval shape. 
 
 The path that turned off at the mile-stone 
 stopped at the brook, where there was a water 
 ing-place for cattle ; but another path turned off 
 at the brook through a thicket of alder-bushes, 
 and, pursuing the margin of the brook, ascended 
 a rising ground of cultivated fields, some acres 
 in extent. Here, in this secluded spot, stood the 
 farm-house that Mr. Eliot visited on that win 
 ter s evening, when the blessing of his presence 
 and his readily proffered aid diffused a joy that 
 had not yet faded away. The aspect of every 
 thing about was much changed since then. 
 Now the lovely verdure of the fields rose in 
 gentle swells to the very door-step, cleared of 
 all except a few trees near the house, that gave 
 dignity to the humble roof. Behind the house 
 the ground rose in irregular and wooded heights, 
 13 
 
194 NAOMI. 
 
 interspersed with masses of rock piled high upon 
 each other, fringed in all their fissures with del 
 icate, drooping, and various-colored shrubs. The 
 brook leaped from height to height, fringing its 
 path with a deeper green, and as it reached the 
 meadow spread into a winding, tranquil stream, 
 that flowed peacefully on to the lake. All 
 around this meadow-farm was the unbroken 
 forest, the wild and wooded hill behind, and the 
 little lake in front. 
 
 The time of which we write was the early 
 hay -harvest ; the scythe had done its work, and 
 the fragrant hay was lying thickly all over the 
 field. Every thing had prospered with Mr. 
 Walton since he accepted Mr. Eliot s money as 
 a loan. A blessing had entered with the good 
 man s gold. The house was humble, but every 
 thing was in the neatest order. The waving 
 elms seemed to give a dignity to the lowly roof, 
 and graciously to shelter a barn and inclosure 
 on the east side, where the cows stood and filled 
 the air with their fragrant breath. 
 
 The sun had now descended beneath the 
 wooded height, and threw the whole scene in 
 deep shadow. It was a lovely July evening. 
 A young woman with a milk-pail came from the 
 eastern door of the farm-house, where there was 
 a small porch furnished with wooden seats, but 
 
NAOMI. 195 
 
 lingered to speak to a youth who sat upon one 
 of the benches, his eyes fixed upon the lake, 
 now reflecting in its waveless calm all the rich 
 and changing colors of the western sky, that 
 were hidden by the cliff from his view. 
 
 It is the same youth we have seen before at 
 the farmer s fireside ; but by the noiseless flight 
 of years the youth has become a serious man. 
 The color of his flaxen locks has deepened to 
 dark chestnut, clustering around a brown but 
 richly colored complexion. The liquid and spir 
 itual eye that charmed Mr. Eliot has not changed, 
 but deepened, in its expression; and together 
 with the gathered thought upon the brow there 
 is mingled a sadness that attracts one to look 
 into its depths, where are centred tears gath 
 ered from the heart. The boy had indeed wept, 
 for before he had been one year in college he 
 lost the tender mother to whom he owed so 
 much. 
 
 He had pursued his studies with enthusiasm ; 
 had repaid in a tenfold degree with hope and 
 expectation the Rev. Mr. Eliot s loan. As I 
 have before said, Mr. Walton s improved hus 
 bandry and the blessing that seemed to follow 
 all his labors had enabled him to repay the 
 money ; but Mr. Eliot, although obliged, as he 
 said, to receive back the dross, which he soon 
 
196 NAOMI. 
 
 gave away again, looked only to spiritual gifts 
 and graces for his reward. 
 
 During the last year of Herbert s college life, 
 which was now drawing to a close, without any 
 apparent cause he seemed to lose all his buoyant 
 vivacity ; care sat upon his youthful brow ; he 
 had suddenly accumulated upon himself the 
 thoughtfulness of years. His friends believed 
 his ambition was deeply engaged, and that it 
 was anxiety lest he should disappoint himself 
 and others at the approaching Commencement 
 which clouded his brow. 
 
 " He drives his plough too deep into the soil," 
 said his father ; " his soul is all furrowed by the 
 cares that belong only to philosophers and aged 
 men. Ah ! it would have been better if he had 
 been content with the plough his father taught 
 him to hold, and have left the sloughs of met 
 aphysics to older heads." 
 
 " I do not think it is that," said the sister, 
 who was five years older than Herbert and 
 watched over him with the solicitude of a 
 mother ; "I have never heard him say so, but 
 he feels a disinclination to the profession to 
 which he is destined. From the cradle our 
 mother consecrated him to the church, and Mr. 
 Eliot has riveted upon his conscience the duty 
 of giving himself to the ministry. He loved it 
 
NAOMI. 197 
 
 at first ; but now he associates with the ministry 
 the persecution of heretics, the branding and 
 hanging of Quakers, all which his generous soul 
 abhors." 
 
 " Ah ! " said the old farmer with a sigh, 
 " man arranges, but God disposes." 
 
 This conversation between the father and 
 daughter occurred a few days before this even 
 ing, when Herbert was at home previous to the 
 annual Commencement, which was to take place 
 in a few weeks. Herbert had received the high 
 est honor in the gift of the government, in ac 
 knowledgment of his diligence and scholarship. 
 The Valedictory was then the highest part, and 
 had been assigned to him. 
 
 " I shall disappoint every one," Herbert said 
 to his sister, as she lingered a moment by him 
 with the milk-pail in her hand; " and what 
 would my father say if I were to resolve never 
 to mount the pulpit-stairs ? " 
 
 " He will not be so deeply grieved as would 
 have been our mother," said his sister. 
 
 " No, thank God ! her heart will never be 
 wrung by the ingratitude of her son," he said. 
 
 " Do not call your scruples by so harsh a 
 name," said his sister. " Your doubts, what 
 ever they arise from," she added soothingly, 
 " are involuntary." 
 
198 NAOMI. 
 
 Herbert was suffering under the painful con 
 sciousness that he had made a mistake. He 
 had believed himself, and had suffered his 
 friends to believe, and his education had been 
 carried on with the conviction, that he was 
 to fill the sacred office. But as he learned more 
 of the theology of the period, and felt the 
 persecuting spirit of the church, his whole soul 
 revolted from ever belonging to that body. His 
 nature was genial and easily excited to enthu 
 siasm ; his soul was full of a natural piety, and 
 he now feared he had mistaken the glow of 
 youthful feeling, and the ardor he felt for all 
 pursuits connected with that learned profession, 
 as a decided call and predilection for the pro 
 fession itself. He resolved in his own mind, 
 without asking advice of any one, to give some 
 intimation of his change of feeling in the ad 
 dress assigned to him on Commencement day. 
 
 Herbert sat upon the settle, sunk deeply in 
 thought, and in the consideration of means to 
 extricate himself from the dilemma in which 
 his conscientiousness had involved him, till the 
 beautiful lights of evening, as they faded in the 
 western horizon, faded also in that calm mirror 
 which seemed placed there on purpose to reflect 
 them. One by one the stars came out, and 
 were seen in the depths of the lake more bril- 
 
NAOMI. 199 
 
 liant, more tangible as it were, than in the 
 heavens. The solemn psalmody of nature be 
 gan, those mysterious and incomprehensible 
 sounds of the breathing, but inanimate nature, 
 that fill the soul with sympathy, and at . the 
 same moment with awe. 
 
CHAPTER XYI. 
 
 " Life is before ye ! 
 
 Gird up your souls within you to the deed, 
 Angels and fellow-spirits bid ye speed !" 
 
 FANNY KEMBLE BUTLER. 
 
 IN the middle of the burning heat of sum 
 mer occurred a festival that deeply interest 
 ed our fathers. It was the annual Commence 
 ment at Cambridge. The College was yet 
 in its infancy, *an infancy cruelly neglected 
 by its parent, the State. It was indebted to 
 strangers, and to the noble province of New 
 Hampshire, for " shielding its looped and win 
 dowed " poverty. Its building, although only a 
 quarter of a century old, was already dilapidated ; 
 its officers suffering from poverty ; its commons 
 poor and scanty. Yet here were gathered the 
 spiritual riches of the people, the hopes of the 
 church, outward poverty, with intellectual 
 riches, ardent and generous youths, submitting 
 to temporal hardships, devoting themselves to an 
 ascetic life, for the sake of spiritual wealth. 
 
 The exercises of Commencement were princi 
 pally religious, but they were not the less at 
 tended and listened to by all the elite of Boston 
 
NAOMI. 201 
 
 and the surrounding country. Commencement 
 was not, indeed, then, as it became in the next 
 centmy, an occasion for the ostentatious display 
 of gayety and fashion, prepared for weeks before 
 hand, and remembered as the one great festival 
 of the year ; but it was, among the few holidays 
 that our fathers permitted themselves to enjoy, 
 that one most filled with pride and hope. 
 
 Mr. Aldersey s family rose early on Com 
 mencement day, and prepared for an excursion 
 in which the whole day would be consumed, 
 the forenoon being occupied by the graduates, 
 the afternoon by the masters of arts. Ruth had 
 been permitted, for the first time, to partake of 
 the pleasures of a festival, certainly more suited 
 to old theologians than to young girls. As they 
 walked down to the boat, their company con 
 sisting of Mr. Aldersey and his two daughters, 
 with Sambo as an attendant, the dew that hung 
 thick upon the western side of Beacon Hill dif 
 fused a delicious coolness through the air, and a 
 grateful perfume from the shrubs that grew pro 
 fusely upon that side, nearly covering the whole 
 descent with alder, the low blueberry, the wax- 
 like arbutus, and trailing blackberry, the rose- 
 colored spirea, the sweet-scented clethra, the 
 various species of asclepias, while in the little 
 rivulets that ran at the foot of the hill the cardi 
 nal-flower added a rich fringe of scarlet. 
 
202 NAOMI. 
 
 It was, midsummer j every tree, shrub, and 
 flower had attained its perfection of beauty and 
 finish, its highest point of development; the 
 fields of wheat along the river were ripe for 
 the sickle j the grass that had not already yield 
 ed to the scythe podded with heavy, ripened 
 head ; the clover emitted its last faint fragrance, 
 as it hung its full and sleepy blossom. The In 
 dian corn alone waved its glossy and polished 
 blade, rejoicing in a tropical heat. The trees had 
 attained their deepest green ; the next change 
 must be decay. One could but look with a feel 
 ing of melancholy upon this full perfection that 
 could not be surpassed, and ask, Was it in the 
 moral as in the physical world ? When man had 
 done his work and ripened the fruit of his en 
 deavour, must he also decay ? When beauty is 
 perfect, must it fall into dust ? Thank God for 
 the answer ! Another spring will again surpass 
 all this beauty, and for the soul of man there is 
 a perpetual spring. 
 
 The party had taken boat early, on account of 
 the morning tide, and the shadows of tree and 
 shrub lay motionless upon the hill-side before the 
 burning sun had drank up the dew. The blue and 
 placid water that bore their boat, and the wood 
 ed scenery of the shore they were approaching, 
 lay in serenest repose, as though offering their 
 
NAOMI. 203 
 
 fresh and virgin beauty to the burning rays of this 
 fierce, relentless sun of summer. They landed, 
 crossed the principal street, and came upon ^he 
 plain where was situated the rather spacious, al 
 though unfinished, college hall. A large number 
 of persons were already collected upon the plain. 
 Our fathers did not forbid on this occasion the 
 sale of cakes and ale, and such refreshments as 
 weary sojourners for a long summer day might 
 need. 
 
 They had not waited long when the sound of 
 drum and fife announced the approach of the 
 governor, escorted by his halberdiers and guards. 
 They entered the south porch of the college, 
 consisting then of one poor building of two 
 stories, whose only embellishment was a walk 
 shaded by noble trees. This college hall, like 
 all the buildings of the period, belonged, if it 
 could be said to have any order, to the Eliza 
 bethan style of architecture. It had a dark and 
 sinister aspect. The first story, projecting far 
 over the ground-floor, threw the latter into deep 
 shadow, and the small diamond-paned and lead 
 ed windows added to the gloom, rather than en 
 lightened the rooms within. The roof on all 
 sides was covered with gables or projecting an 
 gles, each containing one small window of lead 
 ed panes to enlighten the dormitories of stu- 
 
204 NAOMI. 
 
 dents and fellows. This building contained the 
 kitchens, a dining-hall, the small and meagre 
 libi^ry and dormitories for the tutors and, as yet, 
 not numerous students. Those who could not 
 find room in the hall were lodged in the neigh 
 bouring houses ; but no student was allowed to 
 take a meal in other than the college buttery.* 
 
 A procession was soon formed ; the under 
 graduates, or college youths, generous, spirited, 
 but rash and impulsive, then, as now, the hope 
 of the country, in their gowns, bareheaded, 
 came first, followed by the masters of arts, a 
 little more mature in appearance, also bare 
 headed ; the president and fellows, in their square 
 caps ; then the governor with his guards ; the 
 clergy, a numerous body of black cassocks, fol 
 lowing the somewhat brilliant cortege of the 
 governor. It must be remembered that much 
 more attention was given to costume at that pe 
 riod than at the present day ; the dresses of all 
 classes were much more picturesque, and what 
 was wanting in numbers was made up in form. 
 
 " The beauty and fashion " of the neighbour 
 ing city (as is the phrase at the present day) 
 were already collected beneath the bare rafters of 
 the primitive meeting-house. Chivalry, or gal- 
 
 * Quincy s History of Harvard College. 
 
NAOMI. 205 
 
 lantry to the other sex, was not the characteristic 
 of our Puritan fathers ; the body of the house, 
 that is, all the seats upon the floor, and the front 
 seats of the gallery, were reserved for the proces 
 sion ; the ladies found seats as they best could 
 around the walls, where their gay dresses and 
 unveiled faces were thrown quite into the shade 
 by the great body of dark-draperied men. 
 
 The exercises of Commencement day were 
 almost wholly religious. The venerable Presi 
 dent Chauncy, that much-suifering man, bowed 
 down with age, illness, and privations, after an 
 opening prayer, addressed the governor and the 
 legislature in Latin, humbly pleading the claims 
 of the college, and humbly expressing unmerited 
 gratitude for their hard- wrung and niggardly aid. 
 Then came the performances of the graduating 
 class, in Latin, Greek, and Hebrew. The last 
 oration, however, the Valedictory of the class, 
 was in " lingua vernacula," the mother English. 
 
 A lively interest had been excited for the youth 
 who was to close the morning exercises. The 
 circumstances of his early neglect and his later 
 intelligence had become known, as well as the 
 accident by which he became a protege of the 
 reverend apostle of the Indians. His brilliant 
 talents were spoken of, his persevering industry 
 commended, and one expected to see a mature 
 
206 NAOMI. 
 
 man, almost a gray -beard, as much in advance 
 of the class in age as in reputation. When, 
 therefore, the youth of the farm-house stepped 
 upon the stage in front of the pulpit, the strange 
 union of deep intelligence and almost childlike 
 beauty, a figure of extreme youthfulness and a 
 countenance inspired by genius, caused a silence 
 of lively and profound attention. The liquid 
 hazel of his eyes flashed from their depths a 
 thoughtful and radiant light. But the most at 
 tractive charm of the peculiar impression he 
 made upon the audience was the entire uncon 
 sciousness of any superiority in himself; the 
 simplicity and even timidity with which he 
 stood before them, " serene in youthful beauty," 
 and eloquent with nature and deep-felt truth. 
 
 Our New England fathers at that time yielded 
 deep reverence but to one source of inspiration, 
 one fountain of truth ; the faith that inspired 
 them and the armor that protected them were 
 found between the two covers of the Bible ; 
 that elder scripture that was all around them, 
 in the boundless forest, and in the old, mys 
 terious ocean, above them, in countless worlds 
 of light, served to make no profound impres 
 sion on souls trained in the old doctrinal theology. 
 The Bible was all to them. When, therefore, 
 this young disciple, with the timid blushes of 
 
NAOMI. 207 
 
 youthful inexperience, stood before them and 
 spoke of truths drawn from his own conscious 
 ness, and illustrated by reference to nature and 
 the wonderful works of God, the fathers looked 
 grave, and the more strictly orthodox frowned. 
 Yet they could not withhold their attention 
 from his inspired eye and eloquent lip, when 
 he spoke of the sufficiency of the voice of God 
 in the soul ; of the immediate communion of 
 God with the human soul, without the need of 
 the intervention of human councils or creeds of 
 man s devising. 
 
 The ladies, indeed, especially the young, were 
 not withheld from admiration by the fear of 
 theological heresies ; they regarded him with 
 enraptured attention, and gave themselves gen 
 erously up to the enthusiasm his youthful beauty 
 and fervid eloquence inspired. 
 
 He spoke directly to the consciousness of 
 Naomi. Every throb of her heart answered to 
 the living words as they flowed from his lips. 
 Her eyes were fixed upon his, and her usually 
 fair cheek had become pale with emotion, and 
 a tear trembled on her eyelid. She and her 
 sister sat at the extremest distance of the house, 
 the sparkling and blooming countenance of Ruth 
 forming a striking contrast with her serene and 
 thoughtful face. 
 
208 NAOMI. 
 
 Herbert had seen no ladies except his sister 
 and his mother ; he had often dreamed of an 
 gels, but he was ignorant that such living faces 
 as Naomi s ever existed. I do not speak of her 
 beauty, but of the soul of her expression. 
 Towards the close of his oration his eye fell 
 upon the group, and met that fair, serene, and 
 deeply thoughtful gaze fixed upon himself. 
 The effect was instantaneous and electrical ; his 
 heart seemed to pause from its beating, a deep 
 crimson overspread his countenance ; he trem 
 bled, and lost the thread of his oration. In 
 stantly he rallied himself, and the audience sup 
 posed that his memory had for a moment failed. 
 Herbert dared not look towards that group again, 
 but in that one glance was revealed to him the 
 spirit of beauty that had haunted him from his 
 infancy, that which he had sighed for in vain, 
 and had never hoped to meet, his own ideal 
 was revealed in a living form, an angel s face. 
 That which within him he had loved and cher 
 ished, and unconsciously had thought a part of 
 himself, had taken the form of beauty and dwelt 
 without him, distant, perhaps, and never again to 
 meet his mortal eye. Who was she ? from 
 whence did she come ? where was her abode ? 
 were questions that passed quick as thought 
 through his mind. There was no time to ob- 
 
NAOMI. 209 
 
 tain an answer. Fortunately for himself, he had 
 pronounced the last words of his discourse. 
 There were no plaudits on these occasions, as 
 the character of the performances in these early 
 days was too strictly religious. At the instant 
 he finished, his eye sought again that beau 
 tiful and serene countenance, but by the general 
 movement of the audience Naomi was hidden 
 from his view. 
 
 In a peculiar state of the nerves, as soon as 
 the eyes are closed, a far-off and luminous star 
 appears as the focus of surrounding darkness. 
 Herbert thought that if that face never met his 
 gaze again, it would remain, like a beautiful star, 
 for ever the centre to which his memory would 
 turn. He was detained till the audience were 
 dismissed, and then he followed instantly the 
 retreating groups. One thought only influenced 
 his quick and excited motions as he rushed 
 through the crowds ; congratulations, delicate 
 ly implied dissent, concealed irony, regarding 
 his performance, all were disregarded j his sole 
 object was to overtake that beautiful counte 
 nance ; disappointment succeeded, for he saw 
 only the robes of the sisters as the door of a 
 house was closed upon their retreating forms. 
 " In the afternoon," he said to himself, " at the 
 performances of the masters of arts, I shall have 
 14 
 
210 NAOMI. 
 
 no other object, and I shall have leisure to see if 
 my imagination has bewildered my eyesight, or 
 if it be a reality." 
 
 In vain, for Mr. Aldersey considered his 
 duty performed by showing himself in the fore 
 noon, and had gone with his daughters to his 
 boat immediately after the exercises of the grad 
 uates, thus robbing the old rafters of the church 
 of the two beautiful countenances that had illu 
 mined them in the morning. 
 
 Upon their return to Boston, Ruth s raptures 
 respecting the last performance were somewhat 
 checked by the stern countenance of her father. 
 The beauty of the young scholar, however, 
 could not be wholly denied. There was no 
 heresy, Ruth said, in those soul-illumined eyes ; 
 there was even religion, she thought, in the 
 hair that clustered round his noble head j it was 
 like the pictures she had seen of the saints ; 
 and she looked at Naomi for sympathy. Naomi 
 was just then observing attentively something 
 in the water, and Ruth appealed again to her 
 father ; but he turned from her with a contempt 
 uous " Pshaw ! " Child as she was, could she 
 expect her young-lady-like raptures to meet with 
 sympathy from the stern Puritan ? 
 
 Mr. Aldersey was much out of humor. He 
 had expected the President to invite him to dine ; 
 
NAOMI. 211 
 
 he would thus have remained to the afternoon 
 performances ; but he had been one of the dep 
 uties who had voted to reject the petition of the 
 venerable Chauncy for an adequate support in 
 his old age, and although the President was too 
 mild, and long-suffering, and truly Christian to 
 feel resentment, yet, with his meagre living, he 
 did not feel bound to invite the family of his 
 opponent to the hospitality of his house. 
 
 Mr. Aldersey s displeasure was now freely ex 
 pressed. It was his opinion that Herbert had 
 inevitably ruined himself, and had given unpar 
 donable offence to the clergy, especially to his 
 patron Mr. Eliot. He recollected and repeated 
 some of his strongest expressions. " From the 
 clusters of the vine of persecution that has taken 
 root in the church, you have wrung out blood 
 rather than wine. What did the irreverent boy 
 mean by that ? " he asked. Naomi said she 
 thought his meaning was plain ; he referred to 
 the horrible cruelties that had been inflicted 
 upon the Quakers. Mr. Aldersey answered only 
 by a sneer. 
 
 " And what did the foolish boy mean by say 
 ing that he could not wear the grim cassock 
 that was lined with persecution for mere opin 
 ions ? The Quakers had been punished for 
 blasphemous acts." 
 
212 NAOMI. 
 
 " Perhaps," said Naomi, " he referred to Mrs. 
 Hutchinson and her brother," who had been 
 banished from Massachusetts a few years before. 
 
 Mr. Aldersey had taken the popular side 
 at that time, and would not act with the few 
 sterner spirits who were for severe measures. 
 He was then a young man, and had sided 
 with the townspeople of Boston, and not with 
 the clergy and court that exiled them. His 
 features softened, for Naomi, without being her 
 self conscious of the flattery, had caressed one of 
 his most obstinate opinions, that the church, 
 and especially their favorite Cotton, were inquis 
 itors in their treatment of Mrs. Hutchinson. 
 
 Ruth said, she thought he meant that he 
 did not intend to put on the cassock in any 
 sense. He did not intend to be a minister, and, 
 for her part, she thought he was right. 
 
 This was a latitude of interpretation that had 
 not entered into the conception of Mr. Aldersey. 
 To be educated at the college whose seal was 
 inscribed " For Christ and the Church" and yet 
 desert the ministry, was a delinquency he was 
 not prepared to contemplate. It was enough for 
 him that the Quakers at present filled up the 
 pages of his book of criminal discipline. 
 
 Naomi felt, almost unconsciously, it was so 
 kindred to her own mind, the deepest sympa- 
 
NAOMI. 213 
 
 thy for this ingenuous and noble-minded youth. 
 She saw before him a life of perplexity, if he 
 did indeed enter the ministry, and remained true 
 to his convictions and faithful in declaring what 
 seemed to him the truth. She felt an inex 
 plicable interest in him. She wished she were 
 his sister, his elder sister, that she might have a 
 right to offer him her sympathy, her approba 
 tion, and encouragement. She felt as though 
 she was much the older in years and in expe 
 rience. They were in fact of the same age ; 
 but a woman is more mature at twenty than a 
 man of the same number of years. Afterwards, 
 a man of genius gains rapidly upon a woman, 
 who possesses only the receptive qualities of 
 genius. 
 
 The oarsmen were obliged to bend themselves 
 to their oars ; there was not a breath of air, and 
 the whole country lay faint and panting under 
 the burning sun. Nature seemed to pause in a 
 breathless stillness, exhausted by the glaring heat 
 poured all day from a perfectly cloudless sky. 
 The Indian corn, so perfect in the morning, like 
 a body of glowing emerald, was now wilted, its 
 leaves curled and crisped j the wild-flowers had 
 closed their cups, shutting out the never-weary 
 bee ; the birds were silent, the cattle lay panting 
 under the shade, or stood with their limbs cov- 
 
214 NAOMI. 
 
 ered in the cooling streams; thick drops, like 
 beads, started upon the brows of the rowers, and 
 their panting breasts were covered with streams 
 of water ; in the north rose a dark but welcome 
 cloud, from whose womb the frequent lightning 
 flashed. 
 
 The boat now touched the little wharf at the 
 foot of the stairs behind Beacon Hill. The 
 whole party pursued their way in silence through 
 the burning heat of the sun to Mr. Alder- 
 sey s house, in the main or Washington Street, 
 over that part of the hill afterwards called Pem- 
 berton s, and through Court Street, to where 
 the patient, ever-ready, and consequently ever- 
 waiting Faith received them at the door with 
 her cheerful, sunshiny welcome. She helped 
 the young ladies to unfasten their masks, always 
 worn upon the water ; then assisted Mr. Alder- 
 sey to divest himself of his velvet dress-coat, 
 and brought him his thin calico gown. She 
 opened the sashes into the orchard, now lying in 
 shadow behind the house. There came a faint 
 odor from the few wilted flowers that lingered 
 on the white-rosebush, and Faith perceived the 
 wind had changed it was slightly east, and the 
 black cloud had now spread through the whole 
 atmosphere. The garden lay panting beneath 
 the leaden pressure ; large drops began at length 
 
NAOMI. 215 
 
 to fall, with a sound like sudden kisses, upon the 
 foliage ; they became very soon more frequent, 
 and then the full, refreshing stream poured down ; 
 the fountains were opened ; ;never were streams 
 glittering in the sunbeams so refreshing, nor the 
 graceful fountain so beautiful, as these full, dark 
 streams of running water. They fell full and 
 pattering, like thousands of spent bullets, on the 
 roofs ; the spouts from eaves, windows, and door- 
 sills poured like horizontal fountains ; the garden- 
 paths were full of water, and the stones in the 
 front yard assumed, under the polish of the water, 
 the appearance of precious stones, rubies, em 
 eralds, and garnets. The shower passed along, 
 and the bright azure again appeared, but it left 
 a delightful coolness in the air ; the garden re 
 vived beneath its refreshing power ; a drop of 
 crystal hung upon every tiny leaf; the birds, 
 that yet haunted the rural gardens of the town, 
 burst out in joyful notes ; the cows feeding upon 
 the common lowed gratefully ; nature and man 
 felt the reviving gift, a blessing from the cool 
 upper regions of the atmosphere upon the parched 
 and sultry day. 
 
 They sat down to a late and slight repast, 
 for Mr. Aldersey, expecting to dine at Cam 
 bridge, had left orders that no dinner should be 
 cooked. Faith, however, was never unprovided. 
 
216 
 
 NAOMI. 
 
 Tarts from summer fruits, and the wild straw 
 berries brought in abundance by the Indian wo 
 men to their liberal friend, formed a delicious 
 refreshment after a weary and lengthened fast. 
 
 While they were enjoying the luxury of re 
 pose and of their cooling fruits, Ruth said, now 
 that the business of summer was over, meaning 
 Commencement, it was time to think of mak 
 ing preparation for their journey to Connect 
 icut. _ 
 
 Mr. Aldersey frowned. He knew that it was 
 a warm wish of Naomi s to visit her mother s 
 and her own friend, Mr. Winthrop, the gov 
 ernor of Connecticut, and he had given his full 
 consent to the journey ; the escort, even, had 
 been hired, and he had had several conversa 
 tions with an Indian that he had engaged for 
 their guide, about the route, the rivers, the ford- 
 ing-places, and the mountains. But it was Mr. 
 Aldersey s habit, as it is that of many others, to 
 enhance the value of all his favors by having 
 them reluctantly wrung from him. He had 
 even gone so far as to send to England for a 
 well-trained lady s horse to serve Naomi on the 
 journey. 
 
 Naomi looked up from the strawberries she 
 was eating, and asked her step-father if there 
 was any chance of the horse arriving in season ; 
 
NAOMI. 217 
 
 for that it would be necessary to begin their jour 
 ney by the first of September. 
 
 " You ought to set out to-morrow," he an 
 swered, " to have your journey safely over be 
 fore winter." 
 
 " But the horse ? " said Naomi. 
 
 Mr. Aldersey made no answer, and after re 
 turning thanks he rose from the table, and be 
 gan to put on again his coat. 
 
 " But, father, you are not going out again ? " 
 said Ruth. 
 
 Yes, he was going to the wharf. A small 
 vessel had arrived, and he had received informa 
 tion that Naomi s horse had been shipped in it. 
 He was going to see, for he supposed the beast 
 had broken his legs or his neck by being shipped 
 in an improper vessel. His manner was alto 
 gether ungracious. There are people who do 
 kind and benevolent deeds, but spoil them by 
 the ungracious manner in which they are per 
 formed. Such people excite our pity, for they 
 unconsciously rob themselves of the gratitude 
 that kindness should receive as its reward. Such 
 charity is not " twice blessed " ; the giver robs 
 himself of the blessing attending the gift. 
 
 As soon as the door closed behind Mr. Alder 
 sey, Ruth gave way to the gayety of her age, 
 and the raptures of the moment, about the ad- 
 
218 NAOMI. 
 
 ventures of the day ; first, however, the jour 
 ney to Connecticut, the horse, and the becoming 
 riding-dress the tailor was then making for her ; 
 and then, seizing Faith, she drew her into a 
 chair, and, jumping herself into her arms, re 
 lated all she could remember of Commence 
 ment, not sparing her ridicule of some of the 
 staid and sage elderly young men, but expa 
 tiating in the true style of fifteen about young 
 Herbert, his angelic face, his eyes, and his hair, 
 till Naomi, overcome with fatigue, had fallen 
 asleep in her chair, and Faith, signing to her to 
 be silent, drew her from the room. 
 
CHAPTER XVII. 
 
 " Pure love ? there is no other, nor shall be 
 Till the worse angels hurl the better down, 
 And heaven lie under hell. If God is one, 
 And pure, so surely love is pure, and one ! " 
 
 LET us return for a moment to Cambridge, 
 where we left the excited multitude feasting 
 upon the abundant provision of good things 
 always the fashion in this liberal land. After 
 the shower they had assembled again in the 
 church, for the performances of the masters of 
 arts. The young men looked in vain for the 
 two fair faces that had shone upon them in the 
 morning, awaking ardent feelings of interest ; 
 for although they were grave young Puritans, 
 they were also young men ; and it has been as 
 serted as an undoubted truth, that where the 
 brain is constantly employed with abstractions, 
 especially where there is a sterility of spiritual 
 ideas, as in the dogmas of Calvinism, there is 
 also a tendency to extreme excitement of the 
 passions, especially the passion of love. In the 
 opinion of these youths, Ruth was far more 
 beautiful than Naomi ; and indeed her sparkling 
 
220 NAOMI. 
 
 animation and fresh, youthful cheek might have 
 charmed more delicate connoisseurs in beauty. 
 Naomi alone dwelt in the memory of Herbert ; 
 he had not remarked Ruth ; her interest in him, 
 betrayed by her rising color and enraptured at 
 tention, had not been observed by the side of 
 the serious and thoughtful face, the sad and 
 tender eyes, of Naomi. 
 
 Herbert, on entering, looked through the re 
 mote rows of female faces, much thinned since 
 the morning, for the one expression, the soul that 
 haunted his memory. His mind was in a sin 
 gular state of excitement. A hundred wild 
 dreams, romantic and improbable, but such as 
 take possession of enthusiastic and imaginative 
 youths, shut out from his mind the actual scene 
 about him, but substituted actual visions of ro 
 mantic hopes and bewildering expectations, all 
 built, like fairy castles, upon air. Scenes of 
 meeting with her whose name as yet he did not 
 know, of aiding her in difficulties, even of saving 
 her life in danger, all passed as visions through 
 his mind. He was now at her side, now at her 
 feet ; he was looking into those pensive eyes ; he 
 was pouring out to her all the experience of his 
 young life ; he had found some one to listen to 
 his aspirations, who could realize his vague 
 dreams of the good and the beautiful ; he had 
 
NAOMI. 221 
 
 already passed long hours in confidential talk 
 with her ; he saw his whole life before him 
 couleur de rose, with her at his side, when a rude 
 clasp upon the shoulder recalled him to him 
 self. 
 
 He looked around, and the visions suddenly 
 vanished. He was sitting in the old meeting 
 house, with the cobwebbed rafters over his 
 head ; the declining sun was shining through 
 the diamond panes ; the revived and freshened 
 branches of the trees waved between them and 
 the westering sun. The venerable, white-haired 
 Chauncy had risen in the pulpit to pronounce 
 the final blessing ; all were rapidly departing, and 
 Herbert was again externally the simple young 
 man who sat the evening before in his father s 
 porch, but, ah ! how changed, how trans 
 formed within ! 
 
 His sister was waiting for him to conduct her 
 home. Their horse was found among many 
 others, tied beneath the trees or the shelter of 
 a hospitable shed j the poor beast was brought 
 to the wooden block at the meeting-house door, 
 and his sister mounted behind her cavalier, just 
 as the sun threw its last crimson rays upon the 
 winding river, that spreads so gracefully through 
 the meadows in Cambridge. I have seen no 
 spectacle more beautiful than that of the sun 
 
222 NAOMI. 
 
 setting from Cambridge. The shadows of Mount 
 Auburn, and the deeper green of the meadows, 
 the soothing influence of the whole, make it a 
 scene where it is sweet to remember the dead, 
 or to endeavour to make life worth living to 
 those who are yet alive. 
 
 Herbert and his sister were obliged to proceed 
 some distance up the right bank of the river to 
 find a foot-bridge, or a fording-place at low 
 water. The sultriness of a midsummer day was 
 succeeded by cool breezes from the west, ren 
 dered still more refreshing by the shower. The 
 dewy perfumes of the lowly plants, the ferns 
 and the mosses, came gratefully to their senses 
 as they were crushed by their horse s hoofs, as 
 they wound through foot or cart-paths, through 
 woods and thickets, between Cambridge and the 
 borders of Roxbury. It would have been the 
 more usual way to have crossed the ferry to 
 Boston, and then to have taken the road over the 
 Neck to Roxbury. But Herbert was in that 
 mood of mind in which solitude is necessa 
 ry, to indulge excited fancies and lovely day 
 dreams. They rode on in unbroken silence. 
 Mary made several attempts to converse, but, re 
 ceiving no answer from her brother, she also had 
 fallen into silence. She was too humble and 
 too submissive to urge her own will, to persist 
 
NAOMI. 223 
 
 in the desire to find sympathy for the emotions 
 that were swelling her heart, excited by the 
 scenes of the day, and especially by the part 
 her brother had taken. She respected his si 
 lence, also, because she knew the freedom of his 
 opinions would have offended their father, and 
 she supposed her brother was preparing to meet 
 and soften his displeasure. 
 
 The moon had risen. It was nearly mid 
 night when they had to pass through a narrow 
 defile between high rocks, so thickly wooded 
 with pines and hemlocks as to shroud them 
 almost in complete darkness ; as they emerged, 
 the little lake lay before them, Jts unbroken 
 mirror silvered by a long bar of moonlight. 
 The slight tinkling of the brook amid the sigh 
 ing of the night breeze that gently stirred the 
 leaves, the summer sounds of innumerable in 
 sects, the locust, the shrill song of the frog, fell 
 on their ears, and, as they turned into the path 
 along the brook, the lone and lowly farm-house, 
 with the long shadows of its overhanging elms 
 upon the grass, presented a scene of beauty that 
 spoke to both their hearts. 
 
 How few there are who can appreciate such 
 a night scene, and of those few, how seldom 
 are their minds attuned to enjoy its penetrating 
 beauty ! Such a night scene is instantly peopled 
 
224 NAOMI. 
 
 with the forms of memory, the loved and the 
 lost ; and, if there be such, the injured by a word 
 of unkindness or a deed of ingratitude come 
 back in the silent hours and walk amid its shad 
 ows j conscience and sleeping love awake, and 
 memory recalls every fond look and every un 
 kind word. But if memory have no treasures, 
 imagination peoples the scene with forms of 
 beauty and incidents of joy ; the harsh and im 
 perfect realities of life are forgotten, and man is 
 made worthy to dwell in such scenes of beauty. 
 But, ah ! the sigh that swells the heart as we 
 gaze upon them proves that it is not yet attuned 
 to their blissful harmony. 
 
 As the night wanderers cantered, upon the 
 green turf, to the farm-house door, the watch 
 dog broke the silence of the night, and the 
 horses at pasture neighed their joy at the return 
 of their companion. Late as it was, their father 
 had not retired ; he was sitting under the porch. 
 Ever since his return from Cambridge, his mind 
 had been sadly occupied with his son. He had 
 been touched even to tears with his eloquence, 
 and felt proud of the honest independence with 
 which he avowed his opinions ; but he felt that 
 such freedom of thought made it as impossible 
 for him to enter the narrow sheepfold of the 
 ministry, circled round as it then was by the 
 
NAOMI. 225 
 
 iron fence of the Cambridge Synod, as if he 
 had uttered the Transcendental opinions of the 
 present day. He was a mild but decided 
 character, and had made up his mind, since he 
 sat there in the moonlight, that his son should 
 lay aside his student s gown, his black cassock, 
 and immediately begin to harden his hands to 
 the plough ; that he should bare his forehead to 
 the mid-day sun, and harden his slender frame 
 with the labors of the farm. He met him, there 
 fore, with a mild, but rather sorrowful, expression 
 of countenance, said not one word of the day, 
 and, immediately after his son had taken care of 
 the horse and stepped upon the low porch, he 
 bade both his children good night, and retired 
 to his own bedroom, upon the same floor with the 
 kitchen. 
 
 Herbert had been rudely awoke from the 
 dreams of his excited fancy by the homely 
 realities of his dwelling. The lowly roof, the fa 
 miliar objects, the domestic animals, the care of 
 his horse, dissipated his romantic visions, and 
 when he returned to the house he felt as though 
 he had been walking in his sleep. Still, a kind 
 of perfume was left in his waking mind, a feath 
 er of the wings with which he had soared to 
 heaven remained, and he looked at his sister, 
 who was waiting for him, at first as if she had 
 15 
 
226 
 
 NAOMI. 
 
 been a stranger ; then, recollecting his taciturn 
 and her solitary ride, he kissed her without 
 speaking and retired to his little chamber. 
 
 When Herbert entered his chamber, the quiet 
 moonlight that lay across the floor and the still 
 ness that pervaded the little room formed a strong 
 contrast to his agitated feelings. ^ His father s 
 countenance, almost stern in its sadness, had re 
 called the young man to a complete conscious 
 ness of his position. He had been dreaming, 
 he was now awake. But he could not come 
 down so abruptly from his highly rarefied state ; 
 it was like falling from an air-balloon into a 
 dense fog. The homely familiarity of every ob 
 ject seemed to mock his enthusiastic aspirations. 
 The room was too small for the spirit that strug 
 gled in his swelling breast. As soon as he 
 thought his father had fallen asleep, he crept 
 softly down stairs, lifted the latch, and went out 
 into the free air. He wandered on to the ravine, 
 crowned on both sides with lofty hemlocks and 
 pines ; the deep and solemn shadows, the dirge- 
 like sound of the wind, as it moved among the 
 rustling leaves, breathing a mysterious music from 
 an invisible orchestra, calmed his excited feel 
 ings, and by degrees he was able to take a true 
 and serious account of himself. He looked 
 upon himself as others would look upon him, 
 
NAOMI. 227 
 
 and found he had that day, by what would be 
 thought a boyish ebullition of folly, or a prema 
 ture expression of crude and untenable opinions, 
 ruined his worldly prospects, if, as had been 
 decided by his friends, he adopted the clerical 
 profession. The thought of abandoning the 
 chosen paths of intellectual labor, of going back 
 with his father to the plough, never entered his 
 mind. He could pursue his dearly loved studies, 
 he could devote himself to letters, and become at 
 least a teacher of youth, if he were thought un 
 worthy to be the instructor of men. He could 
 live upon little, quietly, unknown, in the midst 
 of woods and fields ; 
 
 " A way through life out of the beaten path, 
 But ever in the road to the pure truth." 
 
 In time, perhaps, the whole community would 
 become of his way of thinking ; breath from 
 the lips of truth would at length, like the kisses 
 from the lips of the devout, wear away the 
 wood and bronze of the age. Then came a 
 whisper from his heart, the vision of beauty 
 that had to-day met his eyes with sympathizing 
 glance would still remain to soothe his studious 
 or his solitary hours. 
 
 The enthusiast, thus reasoning with himself, 
 became less agitated. He bared his unsullied, 
 but his humble and honest mind to God, and 
 
228 NAOMI. 
 
 became fortified with new faith, new resolution, 
 if not with new hopes ; he returned to his 
 chamber and slept the untroubled sleep " God 
 giveth his beloved." 
 
 Herbert awoke late the next morning, and 
 saw perched near his bed, upon a chest of 
 drawers, a little dove, purely white, that seemed 
 waiting for him to awake. The circumstance 
 was entirely natural ; he had been accustomed to 
 feed the doves, and to throw grain from his win 
 dow out upon the grass while he was dressing ; 
 the birds tired of waiting for the morning sup 
 ply, one of them, the whitest, had entered to 
 see why it was withheld. But to Herbert s ex 
 cited imagination it seemed an omen of good, 
 a messenger of happiness, sent with a promise 
 of hope, that the waters of doubt would soon 
 subside, and the verdant fields of joy spread out 
 before his footsteps. 
 
CHAPTER XVIII. 
 
 " Old Newbury, had her fields a tongue, 
 And Salem s streets, could tell their story, 
 Of fainting women borne along, 
 Gashed by the whip, accursed and gory ! " 
 
 CHANCE favored the wishes of Herbert ; he 
 met again the object of his waking and his 
 sleeping dreams in a manner the most unexpected. 
 
 As we have said in a preceding chapter, the 
 present summer and the year before were 
 marked by severe persecution of the Quakers. 
 They indeed provoked these severe measures by 
 returning after the laws of banishment were 
 passed, wantonly exposing themselves to scourg- 
 ings, branding, the pillory, and the scaffold. 
 
 Margaret, the nurse of Naomi, as soon as she 
 passed from the influence of the affection of her 
 former nurseling, and the protecting guardianship 
 of her presence, began to use the intemperate 
 language of the Quakers ; to proclaim their al 
 most blasphemous doctrines in the streets, the 
 meeting-houses, and, as it were, upon the very 
 house-tops. She was warned and reprimanded, 
 and at length arrested, tried, and sentenced, to- 
 
230 NAOMI. 
 
 gether with another woman, to receive thirty 
 lasheSj and to be whipped from town to town at 
 the cart s tail, and then to have her tongue bored 
 with a red-hot iron. 
 
 The day that Naomi was at Cambridge, an 
 anonymous note was put into her hand, telling 
 her that this atrocious punishment was to be in 
 flicted in ten days ; that it was to be commenced 
 at Cambridge, continued at Watertown, and so 
 on to Dedham ; and that the last consummation 
 of cruelty, the boring of the tongue, would 
 crown the whole. The note also added, that 
 there would be an attempt made at Cambridge 
 or Watertown to rescue one of the women. 
 
 Naomi, in union with the feminine gentleness 
 of her character, possessed a courageous, an al 
 most lion-hearted independence in the cause of 
 humanity, and where the service of those she 
 loved was involved, no effort seemed beyond her 
 power. She determined, and without asking 
 counsel of any one, to attempt the rescue of 
 Margaret at one of the towns mentioned as the 
 scene of her disgraceful punishment. 
 
 Fortunately for Naomi, the horse spoken of 
 before had arrived, free from all injury, and 
 proved a superb lady s horse, gentle and perfect 
 ly well trained. Naomi was an excellent rider. 
 The fashion of the time, or rather the absence 
 
NAOMI. 231 
 
 of carriages, demanded that ladies should be able 
 to sit and to manage a horse with safety to 
 themselves. Naomi had never consented to 
 mount a pillion, and this horse had been sent for 
 solely for her own use. The day of the scourg 
 ing at Cambridge, Naomi would again try her 
 new horse, which she had only mounted a few 
 times, preparatory to her long journey to Con 
 necticut. 
 
 The success of her plan, she knew, must de 
 pend upon its secrecy, and the wholly accidental 
 nature of her interference. She would gladly 
 have ridden alone, but the dignity of Mr. Alder- 
 sey demanded that his step-daughter should not 
 ride unattended. She was therefore accompa 
 nied by a serving-man, and followed by Sambo, 
 at a respectful distance. The best and shortest 
 way for Naomi to reach Cambridge was by 
 crossing the ferry at what was afterwards Lech- 
 mere s Point. There was some little difficulty 
 in making her horse enter the ferry-boat, and 
 the man who attended her said, in a low voice, 
 he thought it would be much better to choose 
 the road over the Neck for her excursion. Sam 
 bo answered, that Miss Omai did not wish al 
 ways to ride the same way, as if she was going 
 to mill. 
 
 As soon as she had reached the other side, 
 
232 NAOMI. 
 
 and was again mounted, she was surprised at 
 the number of people hurrying one way, all 
 with excited and varying expression, either of 
 indignation, disgust, or a sort of wondering pity. 
 The road was not then the broad thoroughfare 
 it is at present, but rough, irregular, and in some 
 places rocky. Naomi s horse, accustomed to the 
 smoother roads of England, sometimes hesitated 
 to put his delicate hoofs into the deep ruts of the 
 road, so that Naomi was obliged to pay a close 
 attention to the animal ; gentle and docile as he 
 was, he needed to be used to the new ways to 
 be perfectly safe and amiable in them. Naomi, 
 intent only upon one object, to reach Cambridge, 
 where the first scourging was to take place, 
 in time to mitigate its severity, scarcely ob 
 served that she was herself an object of curiosi 
 ty as she rode by, and that the women rushed to 
 the open windows to express their surprise, and 
 in some instances their contempt, that a well- 
 dressed and beautifully mounted young lady 
 should be hurrying to such a disgraceful specta 
 cle. They exulted in their own superior delica 
 cy and refinement, and thus concealed from 
 themselves the stirrings of envy at Naomi s 
 beautiful appearance. 
 
 We learn from the annals of the times that 
 the severity of these scourgings depended much 
 
NAOMI. 
 
 233 
 
 upon the character of the persons who inflicted 
 them ; and as the culprits were passed from 
 hand to hand and town to town, if they had not 
 sometimes fallen into the hands of a soft-hearted 
 executioner, delicate women would not have 
 survived the cruelly lengthened punishment. 
 They often passed through the hands of those 
 whose stripes were laid tenderly on, or never 
 touched the hared shoulders. Naomi s object in 
 her ride to Cambridge was twofold ; she hoped 
 to bribe the executioner if he should prove a 
 cruel-hearted man, and, if there should be an at 
 tempt at a rescue, to aid Margaret, by her own 
 personal exertions, to escape and secrete herself. 
 The plan may seem Quixotic and wholly im 
 probable to my readers, but women have often 
 succeeded in enterprises so dangerous or delicate 
 that men have shrunk from attempting them. 
 
 When Naomi came near the College, she saw 
 an immense crowd collected around the cart, upon 
 the open plain. The scourging had not begun, 
 but the noise and uproar were prodigious. Nao 
 mi kept aloof, as though accidentally passing the 
 spot, and observed minutely the whole prepara 
 tion for punishment, the whole apparatus of 
 torture. The cart, drawn by two very strong 
 oxen, was half filled with straw, a humane 
 provision for those women who fainted away 
 
234 
 
 NAOMI. 
 
 under the severity of the scourging. The hon 
 est, stolid, but mild and even humane counte 
 nances of the oxen intimated no sympathy with 
 the inhuman preparations going on under their 
 very breath. One of them had laid himself 
 down, patiently ruminating and chewing the 
 sweet morsel, while he drew the head of the 
 other down uncomfortably towards him j even 
 in these patient, submissive creatures intimating 
 the supremacy of the one over the free-will of 
 the other. 
 
 As Naomi kept herself aloof, she could not 
 but overhear the conversation of those who 
 seemed to be observers like herself. 
 
 " Well," said a mild-looking man, " I always 
 said, that if the government had let them alone 
 from the first, there would not have been a sin 
 gle Quaker in the Bay at this moment. Why, 
 look at Rhode Island ; they have no trouble 
 there, and no persecution." 
 
 " Yes ; but who would live there, with no 
 church and no religion ? " 
 
 "Well," said another, "what will Charles 
 say? Not three months since, Mary Dyer was 
 hung, and he has forbidden all persecution for 
 the sake of religious opinions." 
 
 " They say Norton is going to "be sent out to 
 make an apology ; and they seem determined to 
 
NAOMI. 235 
 
 do up the punishments before he goes," said an 
 other. 
 
 " Bad work ! bad work ! " cried a third ; 
 " t will do no good ; for every one they punish, 
 ten come to share the notoriety." 
 
 " Well ! " said a stern-looking man, " you talk 
 like children. Who could live in the Bay if 
 they let in all sorts of opinions, Ranters, 
 Brownists, Antinomians, Quakers ? I say, hang 
 them, hang them all, free the land from the 
 vermin ! The ministers are right, and so are 
 the magistrates ; and if I had my way, I would 
 not stop nor stint till a Quaker could not 
 breathe the air of New England." 
 
 An old woman who stood by, with two little 
 children clinging to her skirts, and who seemed 
 to be listening to the conversation, now inter 
 posed. " t The violent man shall perish, saith 
 the Lord ; and I hope you will see your wife or 
 your daughter in the same situation of those 
 poor women," she cried. " Look at these poor 
 orphans clinging to me; their father and their 
 mother have both been banished, for no other 
 crime than giving the shelter of their roof to 
 one of the persecuted Quakers. What are these 
 children to do ? I say, the magistrates who ban 
 ished their parents should pay for the support of 
 the children." 
 
236 NAOMI. 
 
 " You are their grandmother," said one j " you 
 must take care of them." 
 
 Another interposed and said, "It is but just 
 that the children should be supported by the 
 government of the country that has made them 
 orphans." 
 
 " Yes," said the old woman ; " they tell me, 
 and the minister bawls in our ears every Sun 
 day, that the cry of the widow and the orphan 
 shall be heard ; but those who should hear 
 turn a deaf ear." 
 
 Naomi gathered from all she heard, and from 
 the temper manifested by the people, that the 
 majority were decidedly against severe measures ; 
 and that, should she even attempt a rescue here, 
 she would carry the sympathy of the mob with 
 her ; but she wished to avoid all notoriety, 
 and, if possible, to withdraw Margaret secretly 
 away. 
 
 She called the man who accompanied her, and 
 told him to penetrate the crowd and bring the 
 constable who was to execute the punishment 
 to speak with her. The constable appeared in 
 a few moments. His countenance indicated no 
 ferocity ; he was easily entreated to mercy, but, 
 he said, the crowd would by no means be balk 
 ed of their amusement. They were principally 
 college and other youths, who had come out to 
 
NAOMI. 237 
 
 see the fun ; and, as the punishment was or 
 dered by the authority of the court, there could 
 be no harm, they said, in their seeing that it was 
 well executed. They were light-hearted and 
 perhaps generous youths, and if Naomi could 
 have addressed each separately, no doubt he 
 would have yielded and been ashamed of his 
 brutality ; but they were the strongest, and de 
 termined to hold their power. There seemed, 
 therefore, no chance of a rescue or of a mitiga 
 tion -of the punishment. 
 
 Naomi was looking around in disgust and in 
 despair, when she saw the youth who had ex 
 cited so much interest on Commencement day 
 issuing from another part of the college yard, 
 apparently intending to avoid the noise and tu 
 mult, as a thing that in no way interested him. 
 As he turned, he perceived her ; she also caught 
 his eye, and the thought flashed through her 
 mind that he, so eloquent, so much beyond his 
 years in character, better than any other could 
 turn his young comrades from their purpose. 
 She called him to her side. The extremest joy 
 for a moment stopped the beating of Herbert s 
 heart, the blood rushed to his brow, and then 
 emotion left him pale. Naomi made no apology ; 
 she went straight to her object, and told him she 
 relied upon his power over his young comrades 
 
238 NAOMI. 
 
 to mitigate the severest part of the punishment, 
 the insults and ribaldry of these thoughtless 
 youths. 
 
 Herbert rushed instantly into the densest part 
 of the crowd. His presence was hailed by a 
 shout of joy from one portion of the mob, by 
 derision and insult by another. "Here comes 
 the heretic," cried not a few voices " his turn 
 will come next." "Here comes the Quaker! 
 Put on thy hat, friend ! Where is thy broad 
 brim ? " for Herbert had taken off his hat when 
 called by Naomi, and stood there uncovered, 
 his fine countenance glowing with shame and 
 indignation. " Friend," cried another, " art 
 thou for the whipping, or for boring the tongue ? 
 Yea or nay, friend ! " 
 
 He cried out shame upon them ; reproached 
 with burning language the young men of his 
 own age for their unmanly conduct in aggra 
 vating the misery of poor, defenceless women, for 
 debasing themselves by insulting the fallen and 
 the helpless. They paused, then listened, and 
 many of them slunk away ashamed, and even 
 weeping. 
 
 The power that the young exert upon the 
 young, the respect that an ingenuous youth 
 feels for one just above him in years, the elec 
 tric influence of courage and boldness upon the 
 
NAOMI. 239 
 
 young mind, are well known. Herbert s success 
 in appealing to the generosity of these youths 
 was instantaneous, and far greater thai? if a doz 
 en graybeards had harangued them upon their 
 duty. The mob was quelled, and soon they be 
 gan to steal away ; but, as was to be expected, 
 a reaction took place, and the college youth de 
 clared that no whipping should take place near 
 the college grounds ; the sacred precincts of the 
 Muses should protect the unfortunate, and no 
 woman should be tortured within their hearing. 
 As the constables were slow in complying, the 
 young men completed their triumph by taking 
 the oxen from the cart, and drawing it them 
 selves, with shouts and songs, a quarter of a 
 mile on the road to Watertown. 
 
 In a short time the place was cleared of the 
 mob ; the few officials remained with the faint 
 ing woman and her friends. Naomi turned to 
 thank Herbert. She held out her hand to him. 
 " This is not the place," she said; "but come 
 to my father s house, and I shall have time and 
 know how to thank you." 
 
 Herbert heard ; his soul spoke in his eyes, but 
 no word came to his lips. 
 
 Naomi now obtained from the soft-hearted 
 constable, that Margaret should be placed upon 
 the straw in the cart, and carried on thus to be 
 
240 NAOMI. 
 
 delivered into the hands of the officers at Water- 
 town. Naomi had caught the expression of Mar 
 garet s f^e as she lay fainting on the cart, no 
 longer confident and full of the pride of martyr 
 dom, but supplicating and humble in its suffering 
 expression ; and she determined, at the risk of 
 every thing, to follow on to Watertown, and en 
 deavour to rescue or succor the poor woman. 
 Her presence at Cambridge had solely the ap 
 pearance of accident j she therefore rode rapidly 
 on, keeping aloof and much in advance of the 
 cart. They had scarcely proceeded a quarter of 
 a mile when they saw the Watertown officers 
 approaching to take the poor woman into custo 
 dy. The whipping at Watertown had been ap 
 pointed to take place at eleven o clock, but the 
 mob and delay at Cambridge had retarded the 
 progress of the cart. The populace had collect 
 ed, and, after waiting some time, fearing they 
 were to be balked of their amusement, they 
 had driven the constable with a crowd on the 
 highway, to secure their prey. 
 
 Naomi, as we have said, rode rapidly on to 
 Watertown, having sent Sambo back to Boston 
 to inform her step-father that she should not re 
 turn to dinner, and leaving it to Sambo s in 
 genuity or simplicity to explain her absence. 
 When she reached the place of punishment at 
 
NAOMI. 241 
 
 Watertown, many of the persons collected had 
 become weary of waiting for their pastime, and 
 had gone home to dinner. This was a favorable 
 circumstance. Another circumstance that favor 
 ed Naomi s plan hastily but clearly formed 
 was, that friends with whom she had some inti 
 macy dwelt immediately in view, indeed, ex 
 actly opposite the spot where the punishment was 
 to be inflicted. Naomi therefore alighted, and was 
 received with a lively welcome, a godsend as 
 she was to the retired family of daughters ; her 
 horse was cared for, she was pressed to stay to 
 dinner, was soon divested of her cumbrous 
 riding-dress, and, by the time the cart arrived 
 with Margaret, she could take her place at the 
 window, simply as one of the family, and ap 
 parently with no more interest than the rest. 
 
 Margaret was still fainting upon the cart ; but 
 the people had dispersed, and the constable was 
 weary, so that the whipping was put off till after 
 dinner. They had no intention of losing the 
 amusement of seeing a poor fellow-being put to 
 the torture, which, indeed, they believed she 
 richly deserved. Naomi, in the mean time, rep 
 resented to the family the fainting condition of 
 Margaret, and urged upon them the humane and 
 merciful purpose of bringing her into the house 
 for a short time, for some refreshment. The 
 16 
 
242 NAOMI. 
 
 wife was tender-hearted ; the husband stern, but 
 not inhuman. To her surprise and joy they ac 
 ceded to her request. Their host, as she found, 
 was a justice of the peace ; it was, therefore, 
 only taking her into custody, to be again given 
 up to her punishment. As Mr. Ashurst, the 
 host, went out to become surety for-ihe- wo 
 man s redelivery, Naomi saw Herbert Walton 
 turn from the road that led to Cambridge. She 
 hailed his appearance as almost providential ; for 
 his courage and presence of mind would help 
 her to execute the plan already formed. He had 
 followed on from Cambridge, drawn by an irre 
 sistible enchantment, and had reached the spot 
 almost as soon as Naomi herself. " A true de 
 voted pilgrim at the shrine of love can measure 
 kingdoms with his faithful feet." 
 
 Naomi, under the pretence of assisting Mar 
 garet, went out, and, unperceived, held a mo 
 ment s conversation with Herbert. Margaret was 
 brought in and laid upon the bed in a small 
 room adjoining the kitchen. The family were 
 now summoned to dinner, and Naomi, having 
 mentioned to her host and hostess, although 
 without explaining the reason, that she felt a 
 warm interest in the culprit, requested to be 
 permitted to carry the refreshment to her herself. 
 Margaret was revived by the food and wine, so 
 
NAOMI. 243 
 
 that she could make an effort for her own free 
 dom. She had tasted the fruit of her violence 
 and fanaticism, and found it had the bitterness 
 of death. She was ready and glad to escape 
 the uttermost penalty. 
 
 Naomi having secured the door, it was but the 
 work of a moment to invest her with her own 
 riding-habit, her hat, and mask. In these primi 
 tive times, there was but one maid-servant ; she, 
 fortunately, was waiting at dinner, because they 
 were this day honored with the company of a 
 guest. Naomi, therefore, led Margaret unob 
 served through the kitchen-door. Herbert stood 
 at a little distance, concealed by the shed, hold 
 ing Naomi s horse already saddled ; they assisted 
 her to mount, and pointed out the path she must 
 take to reach the most secret part of the forest, 
 where he assured her he would meet her at 
 nightfall, and lead her to a place of safety. It 
 was the work of a minute. Naomi looked her 
 thanks to Herbert, and returned, unruffled, calm, 
 and composed, to take her place, which she had 
 only quitted for a moment, at the table. The 
 whole thing had been so simply and so easily 
 done, no suspicion existing in any mind of a 
 connection or understanding between the lady 
 and the prisoner, Mr. Ashurst so entirely confi 
 dent that the prisoner was safe, the reader will 
 
244 NAOMI. 
 
 readily understand how quickly and naturally 
 the escape might be managed, and take not so 
 much time as it has taken to relate it. 
 
 An hour had scarcely passed when the con 
 stable came to demand his victim. The young 
 ladies urged a respite for the poor woman ; but 
 Mr. Ashurst said the course of justice must not 
 be arrested, and went himself to bring her forth. 
 The bedroom was empty. The magistrate in 
 stantly understood the whole. He looked with 
 bitter reproach at Naomi ; but she met his look 
 with a serene countenance, that seemed to say 
 she was ready to justify what she had done. 
 Miss Naomi s horse, too, had disappeared. The 
 boy at work in the stable was questioned. A 
 young gentleman, he said, had saddled the horse, 
 according to the lady s orders ; he had afterwards 
 seen the lady mount and ride towards Mount 
 Prospect, a high hill in Waltham, then and now 
 of that name. 
 
 Mr. Ashurst returned to the ladies. He was a 
 magistrate ; a theft had been committed within 
 his premises, and, looking at Naomi, he said, 
 " I shall instantly despatch a warrant to arrest 
 the thief, a young gentleman, I understand, 
 from the college." 
 
 Naomi turned slightly pale. "It is unneces 
 sary," she said ; " the horse was saddled at my 
 
NAOMI. 245 
 
 order, and I gave it to the young woman to as 
 sist her escape." She then related, in a few 
 words, the relation in which Margaret stood to 
 her ; her long services to her mother and herself, 
 and that she left Boston that morning with the 
 intention of rescuing her; she had been more 
 successful than she had dared to hope, and then 
 she added, with a sweet smile, "I am in your 
 power ; you are a magistrate ; you can inform 
 the government, or yourself send me to prison." 
 Mr. Ashurst looked at her for a moment in si 
 lence, his countenance changing from a stern and 
 cold expression of displeasure to sympathy and 
 admiration ; then he said, with Puritan gallantry, 
 "It would be a pity to lose those pretty ears, 
 which you undoubtedly will." And he ordered 
 his daughters to lend Naomi a hood to conceal 
 them on her return to Boston. Although he 
 treated the subject lightly in the presence of his 
 daughters, he was seriously alarmed for Naomi. 
 He ordered the boat to be got ready, and pre 
 pared to accompany her to Boston. Upon the 
 way, he placed before her the extreme peril in 
 which she stood. An inquiry would be instantly 
 made. He should be called upon to account for 
 the escape of the prisoner from his house, and, 
 placed under oath, he must tell all that he knew. 
 " Indeed, the young gentleman," he said, look- 
 
246 NAOMI. 
 
 ing keenly at her, " might be content to pass for 
 a thief, and perhaps even would screen her by 
 taking the burden of the whole escape upon him 
 self." Naomi would not admit the thought for 
 a moment. Mr. Ashurst recalled to her the in 
 stances in which persons had been severely pun 
 ished with fine, imprisonment, and even the loss 
 of an ear, for merely conveying food or relief to 
 imprisoned Quakers. Her guilt would be held 
 enormous. Had she no friend in Rhode Island 
 to whom she could immediately fly, under pre 
 tence of a visit ? 
 
 No ; they had been purposing a visit to Con 
 necticut, and had only waited for the heat to 
 subside, and a few preparations to be made. 
 
 " Set off, then," said Mr. Ashurst, " instantly. 
 Hurry your party, and fly beyond the jurisdiction 
 of Endicott before the report of your interference 
 reaches him. Let not another sun rise, if possi 
 ble, at least do not let it set upon you, in Boston." 
 
 " But," said Naomi, " how is that possible ? 
 My horse, the only one I can ride with safety, 
 is gone ; and my father, how can I explain it 
 to him?" 
 
 Mr. Ashurst took upon himself to reconcile her 
 father to the necessity of their immediate de 
 parture, even without imparting to him the 
 whole extent of her danger. The part that 
 
NAOMI. 247 
 
 Naomi had taken in the escape of the woman 
 was to remain a profound secret, known to no 
 human being but themselves. 
 
 When they reached Mr. Aldersey s house, the 
 dinner hour was long passed ; but, as Naomi 
 had taken the precaution to send Sambo home 
 with an apology, they had taken dinner without 
 anxiety. But when they saw Naomi arrive, on 
 foot, with an ill-fitting dress, and indeed dis 
 guised by mask and hood, they were greatly 
 alarmed. Mr. Ashurst undertook to calm the ex 
 cited mind of her father, and Naomi took the 
 trustworthy Faith aside, and told her the whole 
 history, without reserve, and the necessity that 
 her good friend, Mr. Ashurst, thought existed for 
 her immediate flight. 
 
 Faith instantly comprehended and entered into 
 the alarming posture of affairs but, like the 
 resolute and hopeful soul that she was, her cour 
 age and energy and activity rose with the occa 
 sion. She saw that Naomi was completely wea 
 ried and depressed ; the cause for courage being 
 over, she was suffering under the reaction, and 
 trembling under the responsibility she had as 
 sumed ; like all persons with heroic souls, and 
 delicately strung nervous temperaments, she was 
 suffering from exhaustion. Faith s cheerful, 
 hopeful spirit immediately took the lead. Diffi- 
 
248 NAOMI. 
 
 culties vanished under the enchanting wand of 
 her resolute and bright and active mind. Her 
 own habit would exactly fit Naomi. Ruth had 
 been long prepared and waiting with childish 
 impatience for the journey ; the rest of the party 
 could be instantly collected j every thing could 
 be got ready for their departure in less than 
 twenty-four hours. 
 
 " But my horse ? " said Naomi. 
 
 Faith for an instant looked grave, but said, 
 with an encouraging smile, "You must mount 
 a pillion, behind one of the men j the loss of a 
 horse is less than the loss of an ear." And she 
 turned with alacrity to continue her preparations 
 for the journey. This was no trivial business ; 
 bread must be baked, and meat cooked, and prep 
 arations made for a journey of several weeks 
 through a wilderness where scarcely a human 
 habitation would be met with. While the 
 weather remained delightful, they would sleep 
 under such tents as they could form from their 
 blankets and buffalo-skins. 
 
 Mr. Aldersey had by this time been made ac 
 quainted with the new aspect of affairs ; for it 
 had been found necessary to inform him of the 
 necessity of Naomi s immediate flight, and the 
 difficulties attending it. Like all selfishly im^ 
 portant people, he was angry at the misfortunes 
 
NAOMI. 249 
 
 of others, if he was obliged to sympathize with 
 them, if they disturbed his peace or interfered 
 with his convenience. He began, therefore, to 
 scold at Naomi s folly, and, as was always his 
 habit in all troubles, to call violently for Faith. 
 Faith, obliged to be in every place at every mo 
 ment, appeared. " What s to be done ? " he 
 said, while he looked angrily at her, as though 
 she had lost a valuable horse, or saved a Quaker. 
 Faith assured him they were doing all they 
 could to repair the mischief. The church-mem 
 ber seemed to be more irritated by Faith s se 
 renity, and said, the cursed folly of young 
 women was incurable ; that ever since Naomi 
 had been under his roof, she had, by her singu 
 larities, brought him into danger, and perhaps he 
 should have to endure the disgrace of seeing one 
 of his own family with cropped ears, or some 
 thing worse. 
 
 " No," said Faith, " they do not cut off the 
 ears of women yet j they would be more likely 
 to deprive them of their tongues." 
 
 " They deserve," said Mr. Aldersey, " to lose 
 both, for meddling with things that do n t con 
 cern them." 
 
 Faith turned Mr. Aldersey s attention to the 
 fact, that they must escape before the offence 
 was known. They must set off that very even- 
 
250 
 
 NAOMI. 
 
 ing. This gave him something to do. His 
 own dignity would be compromised should his 
 daughters depart on a journey without a full and 
 respectable escort. He set off at full speed to 
 hasten the preparation of one of the elders, who 
 was going to New Haven to bring home a wife, 
 and to bustle and fret about the horses, and, by 
 his nervous irritability and contradictory orders, 
 to retard rather than hasten their work. 
 
 It was nearly dark. Faith s active and con 
 stant superintendence had brought every thing 
 into a state of great forwardness. The horses 
 the most important consideration for their safety 
 and comfort were to be carefully shod, and 
 every part of their accoutrements in good order. 
 Naomi had been most anxious to find a horse that 
 she could ride alone, but was obliged, reluctantly, 
 to resign herself to the necessity of mounting a 
 pillion behind one of the men. Faith had some 
 what reassured her with the promise, that a lady s 
 horse should be procured and .sent after to over 
 take them in a few days. This was the state 
 of things as the evening closed in, when Sambo 
 came, breathless, from the stable, and said Miss 
 Omai s mare was standing all saddled in the 
 manger, and eating as if the poor beast had had 
 a hard day s work. 
 
 Immediately a knock was heard at the door, 
 
NAOMI. 251 
 
 and Herbert presented himself, all glowing with 
 exercise and happiness at having been able to 
 render a small service to the person whom on 
 earth he most wished to serve. Naomi s thanks, 
 warmly expressed, he received with a deprecating 
 reluctance, amounting almost to pain. He was 
 ashamed that she could call that a service which 
 seemed only a favor to himself. That which 
 had been the blossom, the full-blown flower of 
 his life, the opportunity to labor with her in a 
 work of benevolence, he should ever look back 
 upon as the birthday of happiness, the only 
 day in the calendar to be remembered, when all 
 other dates and fond records should be effaced ! 
 Could she thank him for that which he was 
 ready to fall down upon his knees and bless her 
 for allowing him to do ? Such is young love ; 
 all self-forgetting, it dwells only in the thoughts 
 of another. 
 
 Naomi informed him briefly of her immediate 
 flight. For an instant the color left his cheeks ; 
 but he rallied instantly, and entreated Naomi to 
 let him form part of her escort through the 
 woods. This was a bold and strange proposal 
 from one to whom she was speaking almost for 
 the first time. But there was in Naomi s char 
 acter and manners something so transparent, so 
 sincerely open, such freedom from coquetry or 
 
252 NAOMI. 
 
 artifice, that it seemed to Herbert that all his 
 thoughts lay bared before her, as all her charac 
 ter was transparent to him, and that she was to 
 be talked with in sincerity, as with a saint. 
 The degree of their acquaintance did not depend 
 on time. They were already tried and trusted 
 friends. Like young trees, that had grown apart 
 till a certain height was reached, they must now 
 interweave their branches, and the sweet fra 
 grance of their blossoming must be mingled to 
 gether. Yet they were essentially different. 
 Herbert was a poet, but one who had tasted only 
 of Siloa s fountain, that flowed fast by the oracle 
 of God. He knew neither the strength of his 
 powers nor of his passions. He had lived under 
 severe Puritan discipline, and the warmth of his 
 feelings had been cooled by the dews of Her- 
 mon. Naomi had not a powerful imagination. 
 She possessed only what is called a receptive 
 genius. She caught easily the inspirations of 
 others, and the impression made upon her was 
 ineffaceable. She had disciplined all her being 
 to calmness and composure. Impressions made 
 upon her were like those in the rock ; they never 
 wore away, if they were made when the rock 
 was warm and fluid. Perhaps the most remark 
 able trait in her was her deep humility, and the 
 total unconsciousness of her own worth. At 
 
NAOMI. 253 
 
 this moment she was unconscious of the impres 
 sion she had made on Herbert, but felt in her 
 self that he was nearer to her than any other. 
 Did the stream of their true love run smooth ? 
 We shall see. 
 
 At eight o clock in the evening, their prepara 
 tions were all completed. The elder could by 
 no means be persuaded to such a hasty depart 
 ure ; arid as the reason for their flight could not 
 be disclosed to him, they were obliged to set 
 out, with his promise to follow after one inter 
 vening day. Indeed, their departure in the night 
 was kept a profound secret. It was arranged 
 that the ladies should go by boat to Watertown, 
 and sleep under the hospitable watchfulness of 
 Mr. Ashurst ; the men, with the horses and bag 
 gage, were to follow them before the dawn and 
 after the moon went down, so as not to excite 
 the suspicion of the good people of Boston. 
 They also were to go by boat to Watertown, 
 and thus start all fresh and cool upon their long 
 journey. 
 
 The hour had struck. It was nine in the 
 evening, and the streets of the little town were 
 still and empty. Ruth drew to her father s side, 
 but the severe domestic rule of the Puritans for 
 bade the familiarity of an embrace even between 
 father and child. Naomi came close to Faith, 
 
54 NAOMI. 
 
 and the tears started to the eyes .of both, but 
 they said not a word. At this moment Mr. 
 Aldersey interposed, and said they could scarce 
 ly hope for a blessing on their journey unless 
 they asked for it. It was the hour indeed for 
 their family worship. At such a moment, 
 even the common repetition of a formal pray 
 er would have been solemn and touching ; now 
 their hearts were moved, and they prayed in 
 earnest. 
 
 Mr. Aldersey and Faith would accompany 
 them to the boat. Slowly and silently they 
 passed through the deserted streets, and the 
 broad patches of moonlight that lay between the 
 gardens and scattered houses, and the shadow of 
 Beacon Hill, till they came to the boat, rocking 
 against the little wharf at its foot. It was nearly 
 high water, and the steps that led down to the 
 boat were nearly covered. Mr. Aldersey ob 
 served a man standing in the shadow of the 
 wharf, and whispered to his daughters to put on 
 their masks. Naomi looked round, and whis 
 pered again that " it was a friend." Silently 
 they stepped into the boat. Faith grasped the 
 hand of Naomi, and Naomi returned the pres 
 sure. Mr. Aldersey placed his daughter upon 
 the thwart, and stooped (was it to give her an 
 
NAOMI. 255 
 
 embrace or an admonition?), and as he stepped 
 back upon the wharf, the boat shot out into the 
 moonlight ; and the two yes, the three anx 
 ious and silent figures stood watching and pray 
 ing till it was out of sight. 
 

 CHAPTER XIX. 
 
 " The woods, O, solemn are the boundless woods 
 
 Of the green, western world, 
 
 When dimness gathers on the stilly air, 
 
 And mystery seems o er every leaf to brood ! 
 Awful it is for human heart to bear 
 
 The might and burden of the solitude." HEMANS. 
 
 BETWEEN the setting of the moon and the 
 dawn of the early morning, the escort, horses, 
 and baggage left Boston silently and secretly by 
 boat, and under the shadow of the Brookline 
 and Brighton shore, and by the aid of a night- 
 breeze from the east, went as far as Watertown, 
 to start from thence upon their long, exciting, 
 and somewhat perilous journey. The path from 
 Boston to Connecticut River had been frequently 
 travelled, and by ladies too, since that heroic 
 company led by the Rev. Mr. Hooker and Cap 
 tain John Mason through a " howling wilder 
 ness," when they were obliged to ford rivers, 
 ascend mountains, and wade through almost im 
 passable forests. To borrow the words of an 
 eloquent pen, " As we are now borne over those 
 pleasant regions by the startling velocity of the 
 steam-engine, the eye of one who loves the 
 
NAOMI. 257 
 
 memory of the fathers gazes intently on the 
 swift-vanishing objects, to catch each hoary rock 
 or tree, which perchance may have looked upon 
 the weary march, or echoed the holy prayers, of 
 those Heaven-led wanderers. Many a mile must 
 have been trodden which was not progress, and 
 the winding paths of the wilderness only length 
 ened the labors that they eased. The infant 
 was borne upon a single arm of its mother, 
 while her other hand guided the gentle cow, 
 whose back was loaded with babes that had but 
 just ceased to be nurslings, through tangled 
 thickets and swamps, and across the frequent 
 streams. The sturdy yeomen, with their heavy 
 firelocks and ammunition, carried such household 
 goods as were made dear by former associations, 
 or necessary in their wilderness work. As far 
 as their way led through the forests, it was 
 doubtless easier then than it would be now in 
 the same regions. The Indians were wont to 
 burn the underbrush and the shrubs in the fall 
 of the year, so that in the spots which they 
 chiefly visited the woods were as clear and as 
 pleasant as an English park. Their narrow and 
 winding paths indicated the safer courses, the 
 easiest ascents, the cool springs, the fords, and 
 the places for rest." * 
 
 * Life of John Mason, by Rev. G. E. Ellis. 
 
 17 
 
258 NAOMI. 
 
 The road had at this time been marked out, the 
 best fording-places or the safest ferries indicated 
 upon the rivers ; the traveller s path had been car 
 ried round the mountains and morasses, and a 
 safe bridle-path worn through the thick forests. 
 Indeed, there were some settlements made be 
 fore 1660, and several rude cabins where trav 
 ellers, if compelled by the weather, might find 
 shelter and food. Still, it was a hazardous and 
 fatiguing expedition for ladies, and required 
 courage and the power to endure physical priva 
 tion and fatigue. Under other circumstances 
 than those of flight, it might have been consid 
 ered an excursion of pleasure to this strong and 
 courageous party, consisting of eight persons, to 
 whom two others would be added when the 
 elder and his servant joined them. 
 
 When they started they adopted an order of 
 proceeding, which, as much as circumstances 
 would permit, they determined to preserve. 
 First rode two strong and athletic men, hired 
 for the occasion. They had served in the Pe- 
 quot war, and were well acquainted with forest 
 travelling, and with all the hardships of an un 
 broken country. They were true-hearted, re 
 ligious soldiers, and the safety of the party was 
 to depend mainly upon them. They were 
 mounted upon able horses, capable of enduring 
 
NAOMI. 259 
 
 the road, and armed with matchlocks and pis 
 tols, and unencumbered with baggage, except the 
 fur robes strapped behind their saddles, that were 
 to serve as shelter and couch when the party 
 were compelled to pass the night in the open air. 
 These men were dressed in close-fitting leathern 
 doublets, with broad leathern belts, in which they 
 carried ammunition, and even sheathed arms of 
 excellent workmanship. Breeches of leather 
 and high military boots completed their equip 
 ment, if we add hats or a cap of white felt, 
 close to the head, with a visor in front, but no 
 rim behind, showing the thick and close-cut 
 hair. They wore their pointed beards and mus 
 taches ; and as they rode along, stern and tac 
 iturn, showing in their very bearing the courage 
 and firmness of the Puritan soldier, they pre 
 sented a most formidable and respectable front 
 to the party. 
 
 Then followed a gentleman about thirty years 
 old, who had been a clerk to Mr. Aldersey, and 
 was now returning to Connecticut to visit his 
 parents ; to him Ruth was intrusted, mount 
 ed upon a pillion behind. He rode upon 
 a strong, long-enduring roadster, steady and 
 without fault. The young man himself was 
 grave and taciturn, a Puritan of the strictest 
 caste. His gravity effectually checked poor 
 
260 NAOMI. 
 
 Ruth s ebullitions of gayety ; and her father had 
 intrusted her to the care of this young Puritan 
 because he was doubly armed against any at 
 tempt at coquetry on the part of Ruth, by his 
 character, and by being supposed betrothed to a 
 lady in his adopted home. All Ruth s sallies of 
 gayety or petulance rolled off from his exterior 
 of impenetrable gravity, like showers of peas 
 thrown against a rock. 
 
 A boy or young man followed, whose duty it 
 was to perform all the little services for the 
 young ladies at mounting and dismounting, ad 
 justing and taking care of their slight baggage ; 
 in short, such as would fall to a page had they 
 been travelling in Europe. The rear was brought 
 up by two servants of Mr. Aldersey s, armed 
 with pistols, who took charge of and carried the 
 baggage and the provisions for the whole party, 
 with the simplest implements for cooking the 
 game they expected to find abundant, and to 
 live upon during their whole excursion. 
 
 Naomi, however, was the centre and principal 
 attraction of the party. She was mounted upon 
 her beautiful jet-black mare, the gentlest and 
 kindest of animals, who seemed always happy 
 when Naomi was on her back, and ever looked 
 around confidingly upon her as she adjusted her 
 seat, as though she said, " Pear not, I am surety 
 
NAOMI. 261 
 
 for thy safety." Naomi wore a close-fitting rid 
 ing-habit, and a black beaver turned up at one 
 side with a short, bending plume of white. It 
 was of the same fashion, although smaller, that 
 we see in the portraits of the time of Charles 
 the Second. The stem of the feather was often 
 richly set with jewels. Naomi s was plain, the 
 beaver so far turned up as to show the fair tem 
 ple. A mask of black velvet was attached to 
 the hat with hooks, but worn only when the sun 
 and wind were too powerful for comfort. Ruth s 
 beaver was similar in form, of white, and turned 
 up with a bow of cherry-colored ribbons. The 
 beauty of Naomi s appearance was heightened 
 by a splendid saddle-cloth of rich, undressed 
 skin. She carried only a small bag, attached to 
 the pommel of the saddle. 
 
 Such was the party, with the addition of their 
 guide, a well-known, faithful, and sure-footed 
 Indian, who knew every turn, every track, and 
 all the by-paths, the fords, the springs, the fer 
 ries, and the dangers of the road. He accom 
 panied them on foot, armed with a rifle, and fur 
 nished with the means of snaring and taking 
 wild animals. His dress and accoutrements 
 were picturesque ; he wore his head-dress of 
 feathers, and, as though conscious of his superi 
 ority, usually marched at the head of the party. 
 
262 NAOMI. 
 
 They mounted their horses just as the red 
 and rayless sun, foretelling a warm day, rose 
 above the mist, and shot a bar of gold across 
 the river, upon whose margin they were all col 
 lected. They had wished, in order to avoid ob 
 servation, to start an hour earlier, but they had 
 waited for their guide ; he had been too much 
 occupied with his toilette to mark the progress- 
 of the dawn. And now all were ready. There 
 were stern and solemn faces, together with the 
 bronzed, impassable features of the Indian guide ; 
 there were also youthful spirits, and hearts beat 
 ing with hope ; and in one breast was throbbing 
 a deep, though subdued joy ; but they parted in 
 silence and with thoughtful countenances, like 
 pilgrims setting their faces toward a distant or 
 foreign country. So stern and serious were all 
 Puritan undertakings, that what might have been 
 an excursion of pleasure became like a solemn 
 duty of life. 
 
 Although Naomi and the whole party had 
 commenced their journey under the influence of 
 haste and fear, rather than as an excursion of 
 pleasure, yet she could not but soon feel the ex 
 hilarating influence of the weather, the beauty 
 of the soft September atmosphere (for they rec 
 ollected it was the first day of that month), the 
 deep azure of the overhanging canopy of the 
 
NAOMI. 263 
 
 free heaven, the dewy freshness of the forest, 
 filled with the fragrance that breathed from the 
 thousand odorous roots and plants, disimprisoned 
 by the hoof-broken turfs ; and as she rode along, 
 her imagination peopled these scenes of beauty 
 with beings worthy to live in them. Who has 
 not, when under the influence of soft, autumnal 
 weather, in the freedom of wild nature, far from 
 the scenes of the conventional world, felt the 
 desire to go back to the primitive state of so 
 ciety, to live the simple life, to be content with 
 the few and unexpensive luxuries, that nature 
 furnishes, to live with nature, alone with na 
 ture ? Another moment, and the loneliness of 
 this thickly-peopled and breathing nature presses 
 on the heart ; for these living, happy creatures 
 make man feel the isolation of his majesty. 
 The birds are in concert with each other ; the 
 melody of one heart responds to that of another ; 
 the thousand-voiced, the mass-meeting concerts 
 of the insects, the troops of animals, the un 
 counted leaves, the gathering clouds, hold no 
 communion with the lonely heart of man ; and 
 in this ever-peopled solitude he feels too drearily 
 alone. It is only the heart that is filled with 
 happy memories, or still happier hopes, the heart 
 that carries its own world with it, that can beat 
 calmly and peacefully in the solitudes of nature. 
 
264 NAOMI. 
 
 Where deep sorrows have left their scars, where 
 the breast has become the tomb of the early 
 loved, and the tears drop inwardly upon buried 
 treasures, the solitudes of nature press too rudely 
 upon these cloistered sorrows ; the dead arise to 
 us, and we call upon them in the impassioned 
 accents of love, but there is no answer from with 
 in these harmonies of nature for the mourning 
 heart. We call, we call in vain upon the be 
 loved name. The soul of the beloved, is it near, 
 and does it whisper to the heart that which stills 
 its beating and its vain longings ? We cannot 
 tell ; the mystery is all around us ; it throbs in 
 the air, it trembles in the low voice of the fitful 
 breeze ; it looks down in the silent, tranquil 
 stars, and spreads itself all around in the darkly, 
 doubly mysterious night. We are enveloped 
 and breathe within it, but we cannot penetrate 
 the ever-enfolding veil of Isis. The faded 
 wreath of cherished blossoms, that has been so 
 long pressed upon the empty breast, will not 
 revive again amid the fresL dews of living 
 nature. 
 
 Naomi as yet had little to regret in the past. 
 The memory of her mother she cherished with 
 tender veneration ; but her mother had died in 
 the natural course of Providence, as she must 
 expect to die before her own child, should she 
 
NAOMI. 265 
 
 ever be blest with one. Her heart, on the con 
 trary, was filled with sweet, but scarcely ac 
 knowledged hopes. The voice to whose plead 
 ings to accompany her she had last listened 
 still haunted her memory. She caught herself 
 most constantly dwelling upon the youthful, but 
 most noble, expression of his features. She said 
 to herself, " There is nothing ill can dwell in 
 such a temple," and the words that were put 
 even before that time into the mouth of Isabel 
 were already in her heart, " My affections are 
 most humble ; I ve no ambition to see a good 
 lier man." She scarcely remembered that she 
 was a fugitive, and soon felt the full exhilaration 
 of the weather and the scene, which, like the 
 touch of an electrical chain, was soon imparted 
 to the rest of the party. The sympathy be 
 tween her and her horse was most striking. 
 The mare pointed her ears and arched her neck, 
 and was only prevented by the unevenness of 
 the forest paths from showing her joy, as little 
 children do, by dancing under her light burden. 
 
 Poor Ruth, as I have said, was much restrain 
 ed from the expression of her mirth by her sit 
 uation, mounted behind the staid Puritan upon 
 his sober animal. She could not, however, re 
 frain from the mischief of giving a smart cut 
 to the other horses, as they passed her, with the 
 twigs she plucked from the overhanging trees. 
 
266 NAOMI. 
 
 A short ride of only twenty miles and it 
 was the easiest part of their journey, because the 
 path was plain and even completed the first 
 day ; and here they found a house for travellers, 
 rude accommodations, indeed, but such as the 
 country and the times could afford. 
 
 The next night, as the weather was so soft, 
 and warm, and dry, they determined to encamp, 
 and spend the sleeping hours under such tent as 
 they could form for the ladies of their cloaks 
 and buffalo robes. For this purpose they chose 
 the side of a hill, crowned with a beautiful 
 chestnut grove. Before the ladies retired into 
 their tent of buffalo-robes and cloaks, Naomi 
 proposed that they should close the day with 
 thanksgiving, a custom so familiar to our fa 
 thers, that any one of the company, except 
 the Indian, could have led the devotions of the 
 others. 
 
 The next morning, as they descended and 
 emerged from the woods, they came upon a 
 beautiful little lake, embosomed in gently swell 
 ing hills, from which there was an outlet, with 
 a lovely cascade. The scene was so beautiful, 
 that Naomi, who, till the arrival of the elder, 
 was considered the head of the party, and also 
 to gratify the Indian s desire to fish for trout, 
 proposed that they should stop. They alighted, 
 
NAOMI. 267 
 
 and tied their horses on the bank. The ladies 
 sat down upon the shady side, while the men 
 cast their lines for fish. This lovely gem of 
 water, clear as crystal, lay reposing in the lap 
 of hills, and reflecting every hill-top, every tree, 
 every leaf, in its tranquil mirror. It was a 
 double picture, the inverted one having only a 
 darker shade of background. It is impossible 
 to paint in words the beauty of siich a scene 
 upon a calm autumnal day, and it can be felt 
 only by one whose soul is in harmony with the 
 waveless mirror, the unstirred leaves, the solemn 
 silence of the hills, keeping watch around such 
 a gem of water. The voices of the fishermen 
 came softened to the ears of Naomi, as they 
 spoke in lower tones, awed by the solitude and 
 silence of the scene. Ruth strayed about, gath 
 ering wild-flowers, and Naomi, with silent tears, 
 lifted her heart to God. 
 
 They soon obtained abundance of fine trout, 
 kindled a fire, and improvised convenient grid 
 irons of forked twigs, arid cooked a delicious 
 dinner. This was a degree of enjoyment that 
 none had expected, a true life of nature, a 
 delicious repast without table or cloth, an In 
 dian feast with Christian sympathies. 
 
CHAPTER XX. 
 
 " No foul nor ugly thing 
 Hath power, I in sure, in this new land, 
 Goblin nor witch ! " 
 
 AT the close of the afternoon our travellers 
 came upon a little cabin, a human habitation, 
 perceived only through an opening on the right 
 hand of the forest. It was built against the side 
 of a gigantic pile of granite, being completely 
 sheltered on the back by the granite ledge, from 
 whose fissure waved a tuft of beech- trees ; thus 
 was the little hut completely sheltered from win 
 ter s cold and summer s heat. A green and 
 slightly worn path led up to the door, near which 
 was a little patch of cabbages, on each side, rude 
 ly fenced in, to protect them from wild animals. 
 This little human habitation, betrayed to the 
 travellers by the smoke that curled up through 
 the branches of the beech-trees, was of the 
 wildest and rudest structure ; but it was placed 
 in a scene of singular beauty. A few yards be 
 fore they reached its door, a rapid brook ran over 
 its pebbly channel, crossed just in front of the 
 cabin by well-laid stepping-stones. 
 
NAOMI. 269 
 
 As our travellers wished to water their horses 
 at a spot easier for the beasts to drink, they 
 followed the stream deeper into the forest. 
 They were soon arrested by a pile of rocks, like 
 the one against which the cabin was built, ex 
 cept that this had been partly split through the 
 centre, and divided by a fissure of a few feet. 
 Within this opening, as though protected on 
 each side by a wall of adamant, issued, full and 
 clear, the beautiful stream of water that formed 
 the sparkling brook. A few feet from its birth 
 it fell into a deep hollow, forming a basin partly 
 lined with rock. Her^ it lay, a deep and silent 
 pool ; a goat might jump across it, but it was 
 so deep that even in the hottest and dryest sum 
 mer it was scarcely diminished, the generous 
 fountain ever pouring in, as the hot and thirst 
 ing sun drank up its treasure. Around the pool 
 grew many low pines, a spot of deep green 
 amidst the brown forest. This " diamond of the 
 desert " seemed placed there by the hand of 
 Him who feedeth the young ravens, as an ever- 
 bounteous source of comfort for those whose 
 voices are dumb in the ear of man. There it 
 lay, when the sun shone upon it, a diamond, 
 when it was in shadow, an emerald, set in a 
 frame of ever-living green. The stars shone in 
 it, and the moonlight revealed it to the beasts 
 
270 NAOMI. 
 
 that thirsted. It was in a place seldom visited by 
 man ; but the partridge and the quail and the 
 little singing-bird knew it well, and the deer, 
 the moose, and the wild fox came there to drink. 
 Overflowing the pool, it flowed on, wearing its 
 channel deeper and deeper, making sweet music 
 with the enamelled stones, 
 
 " Giving a gentle kiss to every sedge 
 It overtaketh in its pilgrimage." 
 
 Our travellers, as they could not get round the 
 head of the brook, dismounted and led their 
 horses across the stepping-stones. As they ap 
 proached the cabin, a dog sprang out and barked 
 violently. This drew to the door a woman, 
 whose age might have been about sixty years, 
 although she was much bent and worn, apparent 
 ly not wholly by the number of her years, but 
 by experiences that bring more age than years. 
 She was without a cap, and her gray hair, drawn 
 back from her forehead, was tied tighly at the 
 back of her head. Her dress was a petticoat 
 and short open gown of homespun woollen stuff, 
 dyed a dark olive by the rind of the shagbark-nut. 
 Her Indian buskins were laced high up on the 
 ankle. Her dress was decent, even careful in its 
 arrangement, and showed that, though living in 
 the desert, she still retained the self-respect of 
 
NAOMI. 271 
 
 one who had been accustomed to civilized neigh 
 bours. Her countenance was grave, even stern, 
 with an expression of settled, but resigned mel 
 ancholy, although there flashed from her eye the 
 light of the keenest intellect. 
 
 Although in her appearance there was a stern 
 and settled calmness, like that of one who was 
 looking inwardly upon memories with which the 
 actual world had no sympathy, she had nothing 
 of the cynical and almost ferocious expression 
 that those poor creatures acquire who are cursed 
 with the reputation of being witches. Deep 
 lines of care and thought seamed her face, and 
 her skin, so long exposed to all changes of 
 weather, was nearly the dark olive-color of her 
 garments. Although it was long since her soli 
 tude had been cheered by the sight of any fel 
 low-being except the roving Indian, no smile of 
 surprise or pleasure gave these visitors welcome. 
 She was not rude, however. She asked the la 
 dies, with a settled sadness of expression, to 
 alight and taste of the fountain, the charm and 
 attraction of her dwelling ; and she took a large 
 wooden noggin, bound with iron hoops, and 
 went to bring it fresh from its rocky reservoir. 
 
 The charm of this deeply secluded nook was 
 irresistible. Naomi wished to alight, and both 
 ladies entered the cabin. Ruth trembled ; but 
 
272 
 
 NAOMI. 
 
 Naomi assured her the old woman was less a witch 
 than herself. The interior of the cabin was rude 
 in the extreme, formed partly of mud, of stone, 
 and of logs ; the interior was wholly and neatly 
 lined with thin oak-bark. A bed, a loom for 
 weaving cloth, and a spinning-wheel, almost 
 filled the small room. In one corner was a prim 
 itive fire-place, formed of four smooth and flat 
 stones, one of which, larger than the others, 
 served for the hearth ; a chimney of clay and 
 lath led off the smoke through the roof. Every 
 inch of space around the roof was occupied with 
 suspended articles, indispensably necessary to the 
 poor solitary, bunches of yarn, ears of corn, 
 dried herbs, Indian calabashes filled with her 
 small stores of food, for the reader must rec 
 ollect this was the whole of the cabin ; there 
 was neither bed-room, nor closet, nor loft ; all 
 the simple necessaries of life were crowded in 
 this small hermitage, and yet there was an air of 
 neatness, arising from the strict order of every 
 article. The clay floor had been newly swept, 
 and the witch s broom, formed of twigs of hem 
 lock, stood near the door. 
 
 The first thought upon entering was, how lit 
 tle and how much was requisite for human life, 
 how little of convenience and luxury, how 
 much of bare necessity ; and yet a soul amply 
 
NAOMI. 273 
 
 furnished with inward resources and inward 
 peace could live here content, if not happy. 
 
 Naomi had scarcely time silently to make this 
 reflection, when the woman returned with the 
 pure, cold, sparkling water, and from an Indian 
 gourd gave the ladies the refreshing draught- 
 Naomi thanked her and said, " You have here 
 in your solitude one precious gift, fresher and 
 purer than it is elsewhere." 
 
 " I have many," she answered. 
 
 " Your solitude must bring you much com 
 munion with your own heart and with God." 
 
 " Yes ; we may become ever nearer, but never 
 near, to God. Even here his face is hidden with 
 storms and blights of winter." 
 
 " In winter," said Naomi, " your solitude 
 must be absolute and dreary indeed." 
 
 " The Indians do not then forsake the path 
 that passes by my door." 
 
 " But why are you so wholly alone ? " asked 
 Naomi. " Had you no sister, no niece, that 
 could have shared your exile ? " 
 
 The calm and stern features of the woman 
 showed a passing shade of deep feeling. " I 
 cannot gather up," she said, " the leaves that, 
 the wind has scattered upon the forest paths, nor 
 the refreshing drops of the brook that have sunk 
 into the sand." 
 
 18 
 
274 NAOMI. 
 
 Naomi was much interested in the reputed 
 witch. Her figurative style of conversation 
 seemed not the result of art, in order to impress 
 the ignorant, but the spontaneous expression of a 
 mind that had reflected much in solitude, and 
 expressed her thoughts as they arranged them 
 selves in her own mind. Naomi consulted with 
 the guardians of their journey; the sun had 
 long past the meridian ; the spot was beautiful ; 
 they would sleep soundly, lulled by the music of 
 the brook ; she and Ruth would prepare their 
 bed under the roof of the witch s cabin, and the 
 men could spread their tent beneath the trees. 
 They consented, and Naomi made the proposal 
 with as much delicacy as possible, asking for the 
 hospitality of one night. 
 
 It was a surprise and a pleasure to the lonely 
 woman that Naomi did not share the prejudices 
 that had affixed the opprobrium of witchcraft 
 upon her, and she began with the utmost alac 
 rity to arrange her small cabin for their accom 
 modation. 
 
 While preparation was made for their frugal 
 supper, Naomi and Ruth strayed into the wood, 
 accompanied by the faithful animal that had 
 greeted their approach, with more fidelity than 
 courtesy. Not far from the cabin there was a 
 little spot free from underwood or thorns, where 
 
NAOMI. 275 
 
 a slender tree, a stranger to the forest, had been 
 planted by the hand of man, a weeping wil 
 low, whose pendent branches hung over a little 
 mound that was evidently a grave, so small that 
 it seemed the resting-place of an infant. Stones 
 had been placed closely around it, and grass and 
 herbage had grown up between, so as nearly to 
 cover them ; fragrant herbs, too, had been plant 
 ed there. It was a sacred spot ; for as Ruth 
 bent down to pluck the wild thyme, the dog 
 expressed his deep displeasure by a loud bark, 
 and, seizing Ruth by the skirts of her habit, 
 drew her away from the spot. It was, indeed, a 
 little sanctuary ; an opening glade in the forest 
 admitted the rays of the setting sun, and they 
 fell on the little mound, moist with nature s tears ; 
 the hanging branches whispered a hymn befit 
 ting the sleep of innocence. Had, then, the 
 witch buried her only treasure here, here, in 
 the lonely forest, amid the changes of the sea 
 sons, and the still more dangerous ravages of 
 wild animals ? The stillness, the sweet repose of 
 the spot, the mystery that seemed to brood over 
 it, were suddenly interrupted, as they turned 
 away, by the clear, loud carol of a bird, perched 
 so high that he was able to look into the eye of 
 the setting sun. The bird, no doubt, was in 
 spired by the brilliant departing light, but it 
 
276 NAOMI. 
 
 seemed to Naomi that he sang " so sadly sweet, 
 so sweetly wild," a vesper hymn of peace to that 
 sleeping child. 
 
 They returned to the cabin, where their re 
 freshment was already spread out. The witch, 
 as we shall continue to call her, had gone silent 
 ly, but not sullenly, about making preparation 
 for their night s repose. She asked no questions, 
 and no smile disturbed the calm and settled mel 
 ancholy of her countenance. She prepared her 
 own bed with clean, and even fine, sheets for the 
 ladies, and when they had taken off their heavy 
 riding-habits, invited them to the welcome re 
 pose. Naomi remonstrated ; but she assured her 
 it was no hardship for her to sleep in her chair, 
 and even should she be wakeful all night, it 
 would be no unusual occurrence. 
 
 Although prostrated by fatigue, Naomi felt no 
 inclination to sleep; the sounds of the forest, 
 so strange and new to her ear, the ceaseless 
 waving of the beech-trees, swayed by the wind, 
 above her head, the monotonous gurgling of 
 the brook, as it throbbed fuller and fuller in its 
 channel, the unceasing chirp of innumerable 
 crickets, the melancholy note of the whip- 
 poor-will, that seemed perched near the roof of 
 the cabin, and a strange, unknown sound, like 
 that of a lost child, that she was told was the 
 
NAOMI. 277 
 
 cry of the owl, all kept her senses awake ; 
 then that calm and solitary being so composed 
 and self-sustained, cut off from the rest of her 
 kind, living only in fellowship with wild nature 
 and the wilder Indian kept her mind awake 
 and busy with the mystery. 
 
 A moment only, and the weary Ruth was 
 wrapped in that exquisite sleep that comes from 
 fatigue and health, and Naomi called the witch 
 to the bed-side. " We know," she said, " the 
 outline of your singular history, and the confi 
 dence with which I trust this dear child under 
 your roof must convince you how much I es 
 teem you. Tell me, therefore, how you have 
 supported your strange solitude so many years." 
 
 " I complain little of solitude," she said, " and 
 fear it less. Besides, I am not alone, except at 
 night ; the feet of the Indians keep the path well 
 worn to my cabin-door ; they have faith in my 
 simple remedies for their various ailments. I 
 am to them a great medicine-woman ; but I 
 never let an Indian pass a night under my roof. 
 Yours is only the second company that has ever 
 sought its shelter. In the night, my faithful 
 dog bears me company , and the spirits of the 
 dead, if not in spiritual presence yet in inti 
 mate thought, and in promises that a few short 
 years only will keep me from them." 
 
278 NAOMI. 
 
 Naomi ventured to mention the little mound 
 she had seen in the forest. " Ah ! " answered 
 the other, "my witch s caldron contained no 
 bitter herb till that little child was taken from 
 me ; but," she added, " God is good in what he 
 takes, as well as in what he gives. She was all 
 to me ; but how could the young spirit have 
 borne this solitude, and how could the witch s 
 child have gone back to her kindred without 
 bearing the brand of opprobrium upon her ? " 
 
 The woman again became silent ; but Naomi, 
 interested and curious, still urged her to tell her 
 the circumstances which caused her to be brand 
 ed and banished from the world. She answered 
 almost in the words of her . who, in about the 
 same age, but in another hemisphere, was burnt 
 for sorcery. We will leave the witch s story for 
 another chapter. 
 
CHAPTER XXI. 
 
 " The only sorcery I have ever practised is that of the ascen 
 dency of a strong mind over a weak one." MARESCHALE 
 D ANCRE. 
 
 " THE only witchcraft I was ever guilty of," 
 said the woman, turning her composed coun 
 tenance towards Naomi, " was the experience 
 gained by years, and a kind of gift, I may call it, 
 for observing nature, the aspects and changes 
 of nature. There was, too, a mystery in my cir 
 cumstances, that was increased by the loneliness 
 of my manner of life. 
 
 " You have heard, perhaps, that, when the first 
 companies of Pilgrims came to these shores, 
 they found that in some places small settlements 
 had been already made, although in almost 
 every case abandoned j yet they found white 
 men had visited these savage solitudes before 
 themselves ; a few even were still left. These 
 persons were surrounded with mystery, and I 
 believe told little about themselves." 
 
 " Yes," said Naomi, " I have heard that 
 a Mr. Blackstone was living at Trimountain 
 when Winthrop and his company arrived, and 
 
280 NAOMI. 
 
 that they purchased of him the right to settle 
 there." 
 
 " Our residence was upon one of the islands," 
 said the witch ; " we sought secrecy more than 
 aught else." 
 
 " May I ask," said Naomi, " the cause of this 
 mystery ? " 
 
 " Ah, yes ! since death has disposed of all, 
 there are none living to he injured. The gen 
 tleman whom I may call my benefactor and my 
 master, since I was born in his father s house, 
 and was indeed his elder foster-sister, my mother 
 being his nurse, was the son of one of the 
 noblest houses in England. He was born in the 
 north of England, and was a younger son of one 
 of the great Catholic families of that part of the 
 kingdom. You must have heard how bitter 
 were the divisions in the beginning of the civil 
 wars between the Catholics and Protestants, 
 even without the aggravation that the Puritans 
 gave to these divisions. My master was a true 
 Catholic, but he loved a daughter of one of the 
 sternest enemies of the Catholic Church. You 
 know that no enmities are so deep and incurable 
 as religious enmities." Naomi sighed, and the 
 witch regarded her with interest. " The bans 
 of marriage were forbidden between these two 
 loving hearts, and the daughter of the Puritan 
 
NAOMI. 281 
 
 threatened with disinheritance, and, what was 
 too terrible to think of, another husband was to 
 be forced upon her. Love taught her cunning. 
 She made a semblance of obeying her friends. 
 But I need not tell you that when the true feel 
 ing of love exists, there is no obeying ; the heart 
 may break in the struggle, but love will live 
 in every broken fragment. They agreed upon 
 flight together, no matter where, but only 
 where they could live for each other. My mas 
 ter hired a small vessel, and freighted it with 
 every thing that could be needed in a new coun 
 try, and with provisions for at least two years. 
 An attached domestic, a middle-aged man, and 
 myself, then just twenty years old, were all who 
 accompanied him, to remain and share his weal 
 or woe. The captain and ship s company were 
 to return, and he bound them with oaths not to 
 reveal the place of his retreat. Before my young 
 master and mistress left their native shores, they 
 were married by a Catholic priest. In the faith 
 of the husband, this was a valid and true mar 
 riage, and his young wife had such faith in 
 him that she never questioned its legality. 
 
 " The voyage was long and stormy, and through 
 the illness of his young wife ah ! she was a 
 young creature, only fifteen years old my mas 
 ter was glad to land upon the first welcome 
 
282 NAOMI. 
 
 shore. It was an island, one of the largest 
 near the continent." 
 
 " What island ? " asked Naomi. 
 
 " My master gave it the name of his wife ; but 
 they changed it, and I have forgotten the old 
 name." 
 
 " What was that dear name ? " asked Naomi. 
 
 "Elizabeth ; but they have given it the old 
 Indian name." 
 
 " We had taken out the frame and all the fin 
 ished parts of a small house. The man that 
 came with us was a carpenter, a farmer, a garden 
 er, he had been a little of every thing, and 
 before winter the house was all finished, and all 
 necessaries, even comforts, were within it. The 
 island was almost wholly covered with wood, 
 but some spots and patches of fertile land were 
 already cleared by the Indians, who had pre 
 viously dwelt there, but had been swept away 
 by a pestilence a few years before we landed ; 
 one family only remained, and they were aged 
 and friendly to us. It really seemed as though 
 a good Providence had prepared the place for us. 
 There was one "only drawback; it was visited 
 with severe storms in winter, and the ocean be 
 tween it and the main land was lashed into 
 angry and terrific mountain billows. We had 
 taken with us cows, sheep, horses, domestic an- 
 
NAOMI. 283 
 
 imals of all kinds. The first winter passed away 
 like a day, made cheerful by work, by seQufity, 
 and happiness ; I must say, also, by the fear of 
 God. My master, although a strict Catholic, 
 was a devout man, and when I looked at him, 
 with his young wife by his side, and not a cloud 
 upon his noble and serene brow, I blessed God, 
 and prayed that it might continue for ever. 
 
 " When the spring opened, we found so much 
 to be done, that we must all work to keep up with 
 the rapidity of the strides of nature. We all 
 worked, even the young, fair, and delicate 
 hands of my mistress were hardened by work. 
 She taught the fragrant vines to twine around 
 the house, and look into the very windows. 
 Ah ! I now see, as though it were yesterday, her 
 pretty fingers, all black with the soil ; then she 
 would run, like a laughing child, to wash them 
 in the brook that flowed close by, and come 
 back, waving them in the air to dry them. In 
 the winter we spun our wool, we wove our 
 cloth, and made the vestments of a son of one 
 of the first peers of England. Look ! " said the 
 witch to Naomi ; " upon that very wheel the little 
 fingers of my lady have drawn out the flax to 
 make the linen for her husband s shirts. We had 
 no communication with England. It was be 
 lieved there that the son of the Earl of was 
 
 dead ; he had perished at sea with all his company." 
 
284 NAOMI. 
 
 " ! " said Naomi, captivated by this picture 
 of domestic bliss, so adapted to her own quiet 
 inward feeling of peace, for, like the tailor-bird, 
 " she could have sewed herself a home in a 
 leaf," and there have sat content, " O, and did 
 not this paradise last ? " 
 
 " For some years," said the witch, "the white 
 wings of peace brooded over our habitation. In 
 a few years, I believe only two had passed, 
 the cheerful, musical voice of a child was heard 
 in our cabin, and that completed the cheerful 
 ness of the house. The laugh, even the cry, of 
 a child makes a home of the poorest house. The 
 richest is hardly ever a home, to a woman s 
 heart, without that music. The little Mildred, 
 for it was a girl, and named for my master s 
 mother, and she was named for a saint, made a 
 little heaven of our island. Then, indeed, it be 
 came a paradise ; but I believe my master thought 
 more of his English home after the birth of his 
 daughter. I often saw tears in his eyes when 
 he looked at her. He seemed to be asking him 
 self what would her future be in that solitary 
 place. 
 
 " But let me remember that blessed time of 
 content ; the mother and her child ; contented 
 servants ; plenty, smiling all around ; the rich 
 harvests of our labor ; the father returning from 
 
NAOMI. 285 
 
 his hunting, or with his boat from fishing, and 
 exploring all around ! The moment his boat 
 touched the cove, the little Mildred was wild 
 till we took her to her father. Then he would 
 come up to his house, proud and happy, bring 
 ing her in his arms. The young "wife stood in 
 the door ; the mother stretched out her arms to 
 both, and he took them both together in his 
 own ; he was a strong and powerful man, and 
 both were like children in his arms." 
 
 " And had you no visitors, no interruption to 
 so much peace ? " asked Naomi. 
 
 " My master sometimes went to the mainland 
 in his sail-boat. He visited the settlements at 
 Plymouth, and some venerable white men came 
 once from thence and staid all night at the 
 island. They urged my master to go with them 
 to the mainland, for the sake, they said, of their 
 religious privileges ; they did not know he was 
 a Catholic. My mistress, too, had now but one 
 faith with her husband. But no, the strangers 
 were Puritans. There could have been no fel 
 lowship and no good neighbourhood with such. 
 Thus we lived ten short years, ten years, did 
 I say ? yes, ten years of happiness. I was 
 happy, though I had left my bachelor, who 
 had besought me to marry him the next year, 
 and he never sought to find out where I had 
 
286 NAOMI. 
 
 gone," and her voice became tremulous and 
 sad ; " but I was happy in seeing those I loved 
 happy." 
 
 The witch paused, and Naomi, after waiting 
 a short time, said, " Will you not finish your 
 narrative ? " 
 
 She started, and seemed to try to recover the 
 lost thread of memory. " I have mentioned 
 that my master went often in his boat, visiting 
 the islands and even the mainland. It was a 
 lovely morning in September, and his wife en 
 treated him to let her accompany him ; but I 
 had already then begun to observe the signs of 
 the weather, and persuaded her to stay at home 
 that day. I even told my master that I saw signs 
 of a tempest ; he laughed at my fears, and told 
 me I should never be hung for a witch, unless 
 I were more weatherwise, for the sky was as 
 serene as an angel s face. Not in vain had I 
 warned him. One of those sudden gales arose, 
 so frequent in that mild month, a squall ; 
 the boat was driven a wreck upon one of the 
 islands, and the body of my master, without the 
 breath of life within it, was thrown on shore. 
 The faithful dog alone stood over it. It was 
 brought, all swollen and covered with tangled 
 sea-weed, to the house. My mistress was the 
 first who saw it, and she uttered a shriek that 
 
NAOMI. 287 
 
 has ever since sounded in my ears. I hear it 
 now ! " and the witch paused and covered her 
 ears with both her hands. " She pressed her 
 hand," continued the witch, " with violence 
 upon her side, and at that moment her heart 
 broke. I took her in my arms, and placed her 
 on the bed. She never spoke again ; her eyes 
 were fixed, but there was neither mind nor mean 
 ing in them. I placed her little daughter by her 
 side, and she clung to her mother and called her 
 name ; she called also the name of her father. 
 There was a slight trembling of her mother s 
 lips, but she spoke not, and before morning she 
 had breathed her last. 
 
 " Death was merciful ; it came at once. Many 
 die of broken hearts, but not so swiftly. They 
 live on, bearing in the breast the broken chain 
 of the spring of life ; as the Bible says, * the 
 wheel is broken at the fountain, and we know 
 not why they droop. Some terrible blow, some 
 cruel, heart-breaking unkindness, has fallen upon 
 them, forgotten by others, perhaps even dimly 
 remembered by themselves, forgiven, if not 
 forgotten (for the hearts that break are those ten 
 der ones that forgive all injuries) ; they live on, 
 drooping and withering, and like the rose, from 
 which the heart-leaves have been torn away, 
 they fade and languish." 
 
288 NAOMI. 
 
 The witch paused, as though unwilling to 
 continue her narrative. Naomi was weeping. 
 There was something so unaffectedly simple and 
 expressive in the witch s language, that it affect 
 ed Naomi more than the most artfully-wrought 
 tale. She seemed like one relating things passed 
 away into dim obscurity, even as though they 
 had belonged to another world. And so it was 
 to her. These were the memories of her youth, 
 and so much had intervened, that when she 
 paused, it was, as it were, to shut the book of 
 the past, a book sealed to every one but her 
 self. Ah, how many chapters there are in the 
 life of every one, chapters written with golden 
 letters, which we would fain shut up like pleas 
 ant memories ! for some dark misfortune has 
 closed them, or the angel of death has clasped 
 together the covers, and has placed her unbroken 
 seal upon them. Who that has lived long has 
 not a whole library of such books ? 
 
 " Yes," she began, after a pause, " our ten 
 years of happiness were all wrecked and gone. 
 I was left alone with a child eight years old ; 
 a little girl, gracious and comely, but fatherless 
 and motherless. Did I tell you, ah, no ! I forgot 
 to mention that the man of all work, the right 
 hand of my master, perished with him. We 
 were left, therefore, with only the old servant. 
 
NAOMI. 289 
 
 What could I do, a lone woman, with a young 
 child ? I had heard of the settlements upon the 
 mainland ; that they were Christian people, and, 
 although Puritans, I believed they would not 
 suffer the fatherless and the orphan to perish. 7 
 Naomi could scarcely repress a smile. " Thank 
 God, I had been taught to read and write. I 
 sent the old servant with an Indian, in his canoe, 
 to the settlements, with a letter to the venerable 
 men who had once visited the island. I rec 
 ollected their names then, but, alas ! I have for 
 gotten them now. I had not heard then, that a 
 settlement had been made two or three years 
 before at Trimountain, or Boston, by Winthrop 
 and his company, or I am sure I should have 
 sent to them. However, they came immedi 
 ately to see me, and having made every inquiry 
 and satisfied themselves of my position, they 
 asked about my master s name and family. I 
 did not feel at liberty to tell his real name and 
 family ; it seemed to me that, as he had always 
 concealed it, I should be betraying a trust that 
 had been accidentally committed to me. He 
 had himself given them before a name that be 
 longed to some member of his family. They 
 asked me if my master had been married to her 
 he called his wife. Fortunately I had found the 
 marriage certificate of the Catholic priest, in 
 19 
 
290 NAOMI. 
 
 which the marriage had taken place under one 
 of the family names, and I placed it in the hand 
 of the old man. He looked at it with great in 
 dignation and contempt, and then, showing it to 
 his companion, they said that my master and 
 mistress had been living in a state little better 
 than concubinage. This roused my indignation, 
 and I was upon the point of dismissing them 
 for ever from any concern with my poor orphan 
 upon whom they cast such shame. But I, a 
 lone woman, what could I do for her upon that 
 desert island? for such it appeared to me then. 
 I swallowed down my indignation, and told 
 them I wished to exchange the possessions of 
 my master on the island for something of equal 
 value upon the mainland, so that his poor orphan 
 might enjoy the privileges of education, and of 
 growing up with equals and companions of her 
 age. God knows, I had but one object, one mo 
 tive, in life. I wanted nothing myself. It was 
 all for her. 
 
 " They complied with my wishes. The next 
 day they sent assessors and appraisers to value 
 my master s improvements, which were to be 
 exchanged for a farm, or rather for land of equal 
 value upon the mainland, in the midst of the 
 settlements. The improvements that my master 
 had made could only be valued or appreciated 
 
NAOMI. 291 
 
 by one who would live on the island. As no 
 one was found to do that, we lost a great deal 
 by the exchange ; but we received a small farm 
 with a small log-house upon it, and retained half 
 our sheep, cows, horses, swine, and fowls. The 
 furniture, also, and all personal property, were re 
 tained by the poor orphan. I believe it was a 
 fair exchange, for the fertility of the cultivated 
 land on the island could only be of value to a 
 person who would live there wholly. It was 
 too far from the mainland to be kept as a sum 
 mer garden and retreat, as the islands in Bos 
 ton Bay now are by the rich merchants of Bos 
 ton. But my story is growing wearisome," said 
 the witch, observing Naomi s heavy eyelids. 
 
 " Ah, no ! " said Naomi. " I was only think 
 ing. Was the little grave I saw in the wood that 
 of your poor orphan ? " 
 
 " O my dear young lady ! " said the witch, 
 " the events I have just mentioned passed nearly 
 thirty years ago, long before your eyes ever saw 
 the light. No, the dear child grew up a fair 
 and comely young woman ; she became a mem 
 ber of the Puritan church, and was married when 
 she was only seventeen years old to one of the 
 best young men in the colony. He had taken 
 to her when we first moved to the mainland, 
 and I verily believe determined then to make 
 
292 NAOMI. 
 
 her his wife as soon as she was of a suitable 
 age ; for he immediately began a kind of super 
 intendence of our farm, hired men for us to carry 
 it on, and took care that we got all that we 
 could from the sterile soil. My Mildred saw no 
 one that she liked better, and I think she loved 
 him, but not as her own mother had loved her 
 father. He protected her always from the slan 
 ders that the rigid Puritans would have thrown 
 upon her birth ; she was grateful to him, and I 
 hope gave him her heart when he put the mar 
 riage ring on her finger. 
 
 " With her hand she gave him the farm and all 
 we possessed. I say we, because, as I had re 
 ceived no wages since I left England with her 
 father, I had some claim upon the property ; but 
 I could not urge it. Experience had given me 
 some insight into character and the motives of 
 action, and I could not but believe that, had my 
 Mildred s property been less, she would have less 
 value in her husband s eyes. Could I, then, take 
 one iota from the orphan child of my benefac 
 tors ? The log-house was replaced by a frame 
 one, or rather a new house was built upon another 
 part of the farm. 
 
 " Scarcely two years had passed when again the 
 house was made glad by the ringing voice of a 
 child. A little girl was born, and now no Cath- 
 
NAOMI. 293 
 
 olic saint was called upon, but the Scripture, 
 beautiful, simple name of Ruth was given her." 
 Naomi had observed, when they first arrived, 
 that the witch had started when she called her 
 sister by the name of Ruth. 
 
 " The little girl was scarcely one year old 
 when her father became uneasy and discontent 
 ed, sometimes gloomy. He was often reading and 
 pondering upon the marriage certificate of the pa 
 rents of his wife, which had fallen into his pos 
 session with the property, and the result of it all 
 was, that he determined to go to England with 
 his wife to have the marriage proved, and lay 
 claim to the inheritance that had probably fallen 
 to her. His friends tried to dissuade him from 
 this futile, and, as they told him, useless project ; 
 but, as I had suspected before, the love of money 
 lay at the root of his character ; he would not be 
 dissuaded. They went to alem and took pas 
 sage in a small vessel from thence. It wrung 
 the poor young mother s heart to part with the 
 babe ; but the father would not think of taking 
 it unless I would go with them. But my con 
 science was not free to go, having taken the 
 oath with all the others never to reveal my mas 
 ter s place of retreat. I thought, too, that as he 
 had renounced his name and his inheritance, it 
 was not for a stranger to step in and lay claim 
 
294 NAOMI. 
 
 to them. But to the great contentation and joy 
 of my heart, the little Ruth was left with me." 
 The witch paused once more. It seemed as 
 though she again wished to shut the book of 
 memory. 
 
 "Well," said Naomi, "is it too painful for 
 you to proceed ? " 
 
 " It is a common saying," continued the 
 witch, " that the heart grows languid and cold 
 as we advance in life. Those have always been 
 languid and cold who say so. No ; as one after 
 another our dear ones drop away or leave us, all 
 the heart s love is centred upon those that re 
 main. The little Ruth grew to be a lovely 
 child. All the graces and charms of her ances 
 tors seemed to be given as a dowry to the por 
 tionless babe. She had her grandmother s deep- 
 blue eyes, the color of the clearest sky, and her 
 waving hair hanging all around her white shoul 
 ders. She had her grandfather s proud look and 
 noble bearing, and she was tender and docile like 
 her own mother. Did I make her an idol ? God 
 forgive me if I did ! She was my all. Her fa 
 ther s friends left her to my care, and I prayed 
 to God every night, upon my bended knees, that 
 I might be true and faithful in my duty. 
 
 " One year passed away and we heard nothing 
 of her parents, or of the vessel in which they 
 
NAOMI. 295 
 
 sailed. But passages were long then, and per 
 haps she had gone out of her course. We 
 waited ; another and another year also passed, 
 and there were no tidings. I went to Salem and 
 saw the owners of the vessel j they had given 
 her up for lost. Ah ! who now did that dear 
 child belong to, to her grandfather, her fa 
 ther s father, for he was living, or to me ? They 
 did not want her, but they wanted the acres that 
 her father had left. I now presented my claim 
 for twenty-four years services. It would have 
 almost purchased the farm, and I should have 
 thus secured it to my little Ruth. But, no ; I 
 had no note, no promise, to show, no obligation 
 on the part of their son ; and how did they 
 know, they asked me, that the whole had not 
 been paid ? This wrung my heart, I said no 
 more. Ruth s grandfather took possession of 
 the farm and the framed house, as her guardian, 
 he said, and he had indeed been appointed her 
 guardian by the Court of Probate. He put a 
 tenant into the house, and let the farm for the 
 benefit of the little orphan, as it was said j and 
 he gained high praise for his liberality, by allow 
 ing me to live rent-free, as it was said, in the 
 old log-house. I did not choose to be indebted 
 to his generosity, and it was agreed between us, 
 but not known to the world, that the little Ruth 
 
296 NAOMI. 
 
 should remain with me (it would have taken all 
 the horses in New England to have torn her 
 from me) ; but her board was an equivalent for 
 the rent of the log-house. Ah ! my dear young 
 lady, this was a trial for my still proud nature, 
 to receive even the semblance of a favor from a 
 man who had doubted my honesty, who had 
 dared to say that I had lied for the sake of 
 gain. The day will come when the secrets of 
 all hearts and lives will be revealed, and those 
 who have here been covered with the rags of 
 opprobrium and ignominy will put on the white 
 robes of innocence." 
 
 Naomi s sympathy was deeply excited ; her 
 voice was impeded by tears ; at length she said, 
 " You had the comfort of the little girl. Ruth 
 was a solace to you. She never was torn from 
 you. But how, may I ask, did you incur the 
 displeasure of the government ? How did you 
 get the ill-will of your neighbours ? for I have 
 heard that you were banished, and you know 
 that I cannot believe that you deserve to be cut 
 off from the fellowship of Christians." 
 
CHAPTER XXII. 
 
 " Her whom the world had cast without its pale, 
 T is thine with ever-cheering voice to hail j 
 To call from deepest shade to purest light 
 The noble soul, whom none beside invite." 
 
 11 IT was not strange," continued the witch, 
 " that I was considered a singular being, that 
 my eventful life and my lonely situation should 
 have drawn upon me the curiosity of those, 
 whom I verily believe, if they had known the 
 particulars of my life, would have befriended 
 me. But I was no talker, and I felt bound in 
 honor not to reveal circumstances about my mas 
 ter and mistress which they had sought to con 
 ceal. My reserve offended my neighbours. 
 Then I did not become a member of the Puritan 
 church. I was born in a Catholic family, and I 
 had no experiences to relate of conversion, al 
 though I had always sought to live near to God, 
 in doing mercy, and in walking humbly." Na 
 omi sighed so deeply, that her sigh attracted the 
 attention of the witch. 
 
 She paused, and then again resumed her nar 
 rative. " I had early a strong desire, even be- 
 
298 NAOMI. ^ 
 
 fore I came to this country, to observe and study 
 the works of nature. I lived in the country, a 
 hilly and fertile country. I gathered and found 
 out the virtues of plants ; I observed the causes 
 of the different ailments of animals, and I was 
 able to draw inferences from all that I observed. 
 It is not all who can do that. God had given 
 me an observing mind, and I am humbled that I 
 have not been able to bring more good done by 
 me to honor his gifts. After I came with my 
 master s family to this country, and lived upon 
 an island in the great ocean, I had every oppor 
 tunity to observe the sky in its ever-varying as 
 pect, the mutual influences of clouds upon the 
 ocean, and of the ocean upon the clouds, and the 
 changes produced by the winds upon the broad 
 expanse of water. I found, ere long, that I 
 could predict with certainty, almost, what kind 
 of weather would be on the next, or even the 
 next succeeding day ; for certain changes inva 
 riably follow certain precedents, and nature in 
 its illimitable variety is still constant. You 
 must suppose, too, that, living alone as we did 
 upon the island, all the knowledge that we pos 
 sessed was brought into constant use. I added 
 to my knowledge of the virtues of plants, and 
 learnt as much from as I taught to the Indians, 
 who constantly visited the island in their canoes. 
 
NAOMI. 299 
 
 But, until I removed to the mainland, my stud 
 ies were for my own pleasure, and my knowl 
 edge was exercised only for the benefit of our 
 own little family. 
 
 " My log-cabin was near the coast, and we 
 lived in the midst of seafaring people. I was a 
 lone woman ; the changes and sorrows of fifty 
 years had ploughed my face with deep furrows, 
 and robbed me of all the comeliness I ever pos 
 sessed. Perhaps I looked like a witch. I know 
 not how it began, but the neighbours came to 
 me to ask advice in the ailments of their an 
 imals, and sometimes even in their own. I took 
 no fee, and thus made the physician my enemy. 
 The fishermen began to come to me to tell them 
 what weather would be on the morrow, or if 
 they should have a night of successful fishing. 
 I used no artifice, no deception, always telling 
 them the simple truth, and the reason for my 
 faith in the signs of the atmosphere. 
 
 " The relations of my dear little Ruth seemed 
 to have forgotten her existence. They left her 
 wholly to me, and I was too happy to work hard 
 for our maintenance. Perhaps I was wrong, but 
 I was so afraid of her relations taking her from 
 me, that I would not remind them of her exist 
 ence by applying for what was really her own. 
 I looked forward to the future, when all should 
 
300 NAOMI. 
 
 be restored to her ; but while she was an infant, 
 I would be her protection and support." 
 
 The witch paused. " Was I wrong ? " she 
 said. 
 
 Naomi was so absorbed in her narrative she 
 could not at first answer. She merely said, 
 " You wronged only yourself." 
 
 " The first thing, I believe, that caused the 
 neighbours to whisper their idle suspicions and 
 calumnies, and drew the curiosity of others upon 
 me, was, that the fishermen would come to my 
 cottage and ask me, as they called it, to give 
 them a favorable wind. My predictions of the 
 weather were almost constantly true, and many 
 of them offered me money. I always refused it, 
 and they would force it upon the little Ruth, 
 who was playing about the cottage. There was 
 nothing wrong in this, for my science in the 
 weather had been obtained by attention and 
 study. But it fixed a stigma upon me. I took 
 pay, as they said, for my supernatural knowl 
 edge, obtained by my intercourse with familiar, 
 wicked spirits. In the dead of the night, when 
 my solitary candle lighted my honest labors, I 
 was entertaining diabolical visitors, and the 
 money I received was the coin of the Devil. 
 I was shunned and deserted ; the feet of the pass 
 ers-by turned off, and left the path to my cot- 
 
NAOMI. 301 
 
 tage overgrown with weeds ; even the innocent 
 Ruth was shunned and jeered by the school 
 children as the witch s child. If I ventured out 
 in the street, those I met would pass on the 
 other side. At the house of God, the bench 
 upon which I sat was left empty, and those who 
 usually occupied it would crowd themselves upon 
 others that were already full. The deacons vis 
 ited me ; they seemed to have prejudged the 
 cause, and I sighed to think that a little farthing 
 taper, if carried before the eye, would" blind it 
 to the light of the sun. 
 
 " There came a hard, a terribly severe winter ; 
 there was a universal disease and mortality among 
 the cattle all around the coast ; it was not a sim 
 ple ailment such as I had seen before, and it baf 
 fled all my skill in simple, innoxious remedies. 
 The evil that I could not cure I was accused of 
 causing. The mortality among he cattle was 
 laid at the witch s door, and all the other calam 
 ities that visited the people. As soon as the ball 
 of scandal was set in motion, like the snow-ball, 
 it accumulated at every turn. You must have 
 heard of and remember all the rest. I was tried 
 and condemned as a witch, and was only saved 
 from hanging, and condemned to banishment, by 
 the clemency of the judge. I was a witch, a 
 declared witch by the highest tribunal of this 
 
302 NAOMI. 
 
 land ; I, whose only art was the gift of ob 
 servation, whose only sorcery was a retentive 
 memory. 
 
 " It is now ten years since I was banished from 
 the fellowship of Christians, from the pale of 
 civilization. Thank God, I .was permitted to 
 bring my only treasure with me, my child and 
 that faithful animal." The dog raised himself on 
 his fore paws and looked wistfully in the witch s 
 face ; but finding he was not called, he reposed 
 again. " The relations opposed no obstacle to my 
 taking the child with me into banishment. It 
 left them at full liberty to appropriate her prop 
 erty to themselves ; but before I came here, I 
 visited the venerable men who first came to our 
 island ; through their influence I obtained a deed, 
 by which the property was secured to Ruth. 
 Am I uncharitable and cynical, think you ? Ah ! 
 it was not my nature, as my unbounded trust 
 in others, throughout my life, has proved ; but 
 experience has taught me the selfishness of the 
 natural heart ; and where the love of money has 
 taken possession of a mind, the tender claims of 
 family, of brother and sister, even nearer and 
 tenderer relations, are forgotten. 
 
 " When the sentence of banishment was first 
 passed, I knew not where to go j but accident, 
 or rather a kind Providence, led me to this spot. 
 
NAOMI. 303 
 
 I had always held kindly intercourse with the 
 Indians these wild children of nature discern 
 and value simple gifts, and we had often com 
 pared our knowledge of simple remedies. They 
 told me of this cabin, sheltered by the rock, that 
 had been built by some Englishmen who were 
 lost in the woods and obliged to pass the winter 
 here. By the help of the Indians I had it re 
 paired, and made it the comfortable dwelling you 
 see. With my own hands I lined it with the 
 bark of the white oak, which makes it warm in 
 the winter and dry in the summer. The Indi 
 ans never forsake me ; they bring me corn and 
 venison and fish, and I have never known want, 
 but have always had food to spare to others ; in 
 return, they value my knowledge of the virtues 
 of herbs and plants, in which, as in every thing 
 else in nature, they believe dwells the Great 
 Spirit. They honor me as a medicine-woman, 
 or interpreter of this Great Spirit. I have been 
 fed by Him who feedeth the ravens when they 
 cry, and who fed Elijah in the desert. The 
 smoke of my humble fire is seen, as it rises 
 above the trees, by the Indian and by the house 
 less wanderer. My fire never goes out. The 
 burning log is buried at night, and renewed again 
 at the earliest dawn, and its light shines through 
 the forest at darkest midnight. Angels have 
 
304 NAOMI. 
 
 blessed my unworthy roof-tree, but the Pharisee 
 and the soul that is filled with spiritual pride 
 turn away and pass on the other side." 
 
 " And the little Ruth." asked Naomi, " does 
 she sleep under the weeping willow in the 
 forest ? 
 
 " For two years," continued the witch " she 
 was just four years old when I was banished, 
 that dear child was the joy of my life. My 
 cabin was no prison. She was the sunbeam that 
 made the forest blossom like a garden. She 
 made my days but one hour long, and the time 
 that I slept seemed lost, for I could not then be 
 hold her beauty and gladness of heart. I had 
 just counted her sixth birthday when she sick 
 ened. Strange as it may seem to you, my 
 knowledge of simple remedies, which I had 
 always employed with success, now failed ; I 
 was afraid to trust myself, my skill deserted me j 
 my heart was too strong for my science ; the 
 intenseness of my anxiety robbed me of thought 
 and memory. Had I, then, been proud of my 
 knowledge, and was this to make me feel my 
 ignorance ? She faded and languished in my 
 arms. Her feet and hands, like the purest mar 
 ble, were streaked with blue veins, till at last 
 she became all marble, and her eye, ever turned 
 upon me in mute suffering, in silent love, closed 
 
NAOMI. 305 
 
 for ever. Then darkness came over me, and the 
 shadow of the grave. Many months passed, of 
 which I have no recollection ; they are a blank 
 in my consciousness ; but these months turned 
 my head white, and made me older than my 
 years. The Indians brought me food, and a 
 kind old squaw prepared my babe for interment. 
 A young Indian, that I had nursed when ill, 
 with a delicacy none would expect from an In 
 dian, travelled to Boston, and brought the weep 
 ing-willow, then a sapling, for he had observed 
 that the whites planted such at their graves, and 
 planted it on the spot. The tree, he said, 
 should never forget to weep for the pale-face 
 pappoose. When I first looked upon that little 
 grave, the soil was already green, and the stran 
 ger had taken root there and hung its pensile 
 branches. The dog, they told me, had guarded 
 it, sleeping every night stretched above the turf. 
 I covered it with stones, and my faithful animal, 
 knowing it was safe, returned to sleep at the 
 cabin-door." , The dog again raised himself, and 
 uttered a low whine. 
 
 Naomi was deeply affected, but she had not a 
 single word to offer. She was too simple and 
 sincere in her sympathy to offer words of conso 
 lation, where she felt there was none, except in 
 the resignation the narrator had already attained. 
 20 
 
306 NAOMI. 
 
 She felt that it would have been mockery, al 
 most an insult, to offer to that lofty being, mute 
 in her wrongs, silent under the oppression of 
 horrible injustice, words of common consolation. 
 She looked at her with sentiments of reverence, 
 almost of veneration. This noble creature, 
 whose heart was full of the most generous and 
 disinterested love, had accepted sacrifice and self- 
 forgetfulness as her portion through life ; this be 
 ing, of woman s tenderest nature, had laid down, 
 without a word of open regret, the dearest wish 
 of woman s heart, to put on servitude and accept 
 of exile in the cause of those she loved ; this 
 gifted intellect had bowed to ignorance and big 
 otry, and had been compelled to receive exist 
 ence as a boon, although passed in solitude and 
 isolation. "Ah!" thought Naomi, "such lofty, 
 but lowly beings pass silently, unobtrusively, 
 through life, while the Pharisee, the ranter, and 
 the hypocrite have their ostentatious deeds bla 
 zoned upon their tombstones." 
 
 The dawn was crimson with aa almost over 
 powering glory when the travellers were again 
 on their horses, and were waiting with Naomi s 
 mare at the door of the cabin. Ruth awoke gay 
 as the birds that sung at the same hour of dawn. 
 She had lost all fear of the witch, and as she 
 leaped to the pillion, behind her cavalier, she 
 
NAOMI. 307 
 
 held out her hand, and insisted that the witch 
 should tell her fortune. For the first time a 
 smile stole over the features of the woman. 
 " You will be happy," she said ; and then, look 
 ing at Naomi, who had just mounted her horse, 
 she added, " The rain rolls off from the bud, 
 that breaks down the full-blown flower." 
 
CHAPTER XXIII. 
 
 I FEAR that I have wearied my readers by 
 dwelling too long upon the history of the woman 
 who was actually banished for witchcraft. It 
 was, however, a feature of the age, and may be 
 considered a prelude to the horrible tragedies 
 that were afterwards acted upon nearly the 
 same soil. 
 
 Our travellers continued their journey without 
 any unusual incidents, over what seemed to the 
 ladies mountain paths, and along the borders of 
 lakes and morasses, crossing and fording rivers, 
 where the water came up to the stirrup-irons, or 
 sometimes, as seemed far more dangerous to 
 their inexperience, in an Indian birch-bark canoe. 
 They became hardened to the fatigue ; to Na 
 omi it was a perpetual pleasure to sit her horse 
 all day, and lie down at night under the canopy 
 of the sky. She forgot that danger and dis 
 grace awaited the close of her long holiday. 
 She became acquainted with all the aspects of 
 nature, the forest, and its denizens. The agile 
 and graceful deer, as they frequently started at 
 the horses hoofs, and darted across the forest 
 
NAOMI. 309 
 
 paths, drew her delighted admiration. The In* 
 dian, observing this, caught, with a running noose 
 of leather, a beautiful young doe, of a rich brown 
 color shaded off into a delicate fawn. He in 
 tended to lead her along till she became tame, 
 and then give her, as a plaything, to Ruth. But 
 she would not be led ; she pined away with mel 
 ancholy and fear, refused all food, and would 
 often lie down and gaze at them with her mel 
 ancholy eyes. She seemed to have human 
 thoughts of bereavement and isolation from her 
 fellows. Naomi bought her of the Indian in or 
 der to give her her liberty j but to this none of 
 the party would consent ; she was a fair prize, 
 they said, and would yield them food and a beau 
 tiful doeskin as a trophy. God had given all 
 animals to be for the use of man, said the elder ; 
 and to set free one that they had captured was 
 a refinement of humanity beyond even the ten 
 derly humane code of our fathers. The inno 
 cent creature, therefore, fell under the knife, fix 
 ing her tearful eyes in mute entreaty upon her 
 butcher. 
 
 It is not my purpose, neither would it be in 
 my power, to enter into a minute account of the 
 whole of this journey to New Haven. Suffice it 
 to say, that at the end of three weeks our travel 
 lers saw the blue waves of the Connecticut rolling 
 
310 NAOMI. 
 
 before them. They left the gentleman who had 
 hitherto been the cavalier of Ruth at Hartford, 
 to be united to his bride, while the rest of the 
 party, leaving a part of their horses and baggage, 
 proceeded by water to New Haven. The ladies 
 were received with the most paternal welcome, 
 under the hospitable roof of the second Win- 
 throp, a son of the first governor of Massachu 
 setts, and second, as Cotton Mather says he 
 could be, only to a Winthrop. He displayed for 
 his guests all the charms of his conversation, 
 and unfolded all the attractions of his philosophy 
 and literature. He would fain have kept the 
 ladies all winter, and would have been to them 
 a most paternal guardian. Happy would it have 
 been for Naomi had she yielded to the kind so 
 licitations of his hospitality ; but she was drawn 
 by an invisible and unacknowledged, but by an 
 irresistible, attraction back to Boston. There was 
 no magnetic telegraph in those days ; but Naomi 
 was under a magnetic influence, and every pul 
 sation of the air in the one place vibrated to the 
 pulsations of her heart in the other. She could 
 not consent to be left behind. They returned 
 in the same vessel to Hartford, where the travel 
 lers again mounted their horses, and Naomi and 
 her intelligent little horse became again, to their 
 mutual joy, companions for the rest of the 
 journey. 
 
NAOMI. 311 
 
 They had been detained much beyond the 
 calculations of the wisest of their party. Their 
 two voyages around the mouth of the river had 
 been somewhat lengthened by contrary winds, 
 and as they mounted their horses on the morn 
 ing of the very last day of October, and a brisk 
 wind from the north blew in their faces, they 
 felt that it would be the extreme of imprudence 
 to be longer dilatory. Naomi felt that she had 
 too much seduced them to make the journey an 
 excursion of pleasure. They had lingered on 
 the way, attracted by scenes of sublimity and 
 beauty that many of the party would never be 
 hold again. Their plan was now formed, that 
 every day s journey should be a long one, and 
 that they would neither turn aside nor be se 
 duced to linger on their path. 
 
 After a few days of steady travel, they en 
 tered upon that beautiful season which the Cath 
 olics ascribe to the gift of St. Martin, but which 
 we in the New World call the Indian summer. 
 A light mist hung over the country, and every 
 grand feature of the landscape was seen through 
 a silver tissue-like haze, and the autumn sun 
 looked, through the misty morning, like the full 
 moon in August. They had again entered the 
 forest, and though the progress of decay had 
 made rapid steps, it seemed to Naomi to wear a 
 
312 
 
 NAOMI. 
 
 more touching beauty than when the trees were 
 arrayed in all that gorgeousness and pomp of 
 color which they wear in October. The oaks 
 alone retained their faded regalia, but the forest 
 paths were heaped with fallen leaves, and the 
 whole surface of the ground shaded all over with 
 every tint of brown and orange. A rich and 
 vivid embroidery was spread over the fallen 
 trunks, the decaying stumps, and the obtruding 
 rocks, by creeping vines of vivid colors, that hung 
 like decorations and fringes upon the deep green 
 of the hemlocks and pines, intermixed with the 
 dark foliage of the privet and the whortleberry, 
 yet unchanged by the autumn. Flocks of silent 
 birds fed upon the scarlet berries of the moun 
 tain-ash and the black alder, and troops of squir 
 rels gathered up the fallen nuts. 
 
 The morning mists were dispersed at noon 
 day, and the sunbeams, shining through the 
 nearly naked branches, checkered the ground 
 with twinkling light and shadow ; but in deeply 
 shaded spots the dew hung in fringes of mist 
 upon the edges of the leaves. Scarcely a word 
 was spoken by our travellers ; the only sound 
 was the measured and deadened tread of their 
 horses hoofs upon the paths, thick and heavy 
 with fallen leaves. The woods were so still 
 that the fluttering and falling of a leaf almost 
 
NAOMI, 313 
 
 made the heart beat, and the spent winds, that 
 had driven the ocean mountains high, and raged 
 all along the coast, came to die away in the for 
 est, just quivering the footstalk of an aspen-leaf. 
 The forest seemed not to Naomi so deeply and 
 darkly solemn as when covered with the um 
 brageous verdure of summer, where the sun 
 beam could scarcely penetrate ; but it was filled 
 with a tenderer and more touching beauty. The 
 ancients built their temples in thick groves, in 
 the radiance and glory of nature ; but it seemed 
 to Naomi that the worship of sorrow, as our re 
 ligion has been called, was more appropriately 
 placed in the stripped forest, where the sunbeam, 
 like love, could penetrate and soften decay. 
 
 Our party had now accomplished more than half 
 of their homeward route. A few more days would 
 place them again at their own firesides. Although 
 in no degree wearied, they felt the necessity of 
 despatch on account of the lateness of the season, 
 and they allowed themselves but one hour at 
 noon to refresh their beasts. This hour the In 
 dian always marked with the truest precision, 
 and although the elder consulted his watch, it 
 was never so true as the instinct of the In 
 dian. 
 
 The weather, that had hitherto been, though 
 cold, yet serene and beautiful, became suddenly 
 
314 NAOMI. 
 
 dark and lowering. The bank of clouds they 
 had seen, whenever upon an eminence, reposing 
 dark and threatening in the east and the south, 
 began to unfold and roll up its heavy masses, till 
 the whole atmosphere was covered with a leaden- 
 colored veil. The wind, hitherto so hushed, 
 now sobbed through the leafless branches, or 
 suddenly whirled up the whole bed of leaves 
 upon their path. The temperature had also 
 changed; it had become damp and intensely 
 chilling, and they all felt the necessity of a 
 quicker motion to keep their blood in circula 
 tion. They hastened as much as the path would 
 allow, silently and in single file, along the 
 woods for miles, and as they came to an opening 
 they saw the Indian before them on a little 
 mound, observing intently the signs of the 
 weather. When they came up, he held out his 
 open palm, upon the horny skin of which a flake 
 of snow was slowly melting, and pointed with 
 the other to the lurid sky, now of a dense and 
 uniform slate-color. Snow at the opening of No 
 vember was not unusual, and in these early years 
 of our history it sometimes fell to a great depth. 
 The party began to feel that they had yielded to 
 too many delays, although their journey until 
 now had been eminently prosperous. The ladies 
 gayly drew their hoods over their heads, and 
 
NAOMI. 315 
 
 agreed that a snow-storm would form an agree 
 able variety to their experience of the woods. 
 It soon began to fall in large, damp flakes, and 
 the whole air was so filled, that it seemed as if 
 ten thousand feather-beds had suddenly been 
 emptied around them. As the snow descended, 
 the atmosphere became soft and calm ; the per 
 petual descent of the snow-flakes, falling, falling, 
 and melting as they fell, produced almost a mag 
 ical deception, as this thick fleece sank away 
 into the ground. At last white patches began to 
 appear, varying the brown of the surface, till at 
 length a perfect and spotless carpet of white cov 
 ered the ground, and seemed for a short time to 
 dispel the gloom of approaching night. 
 
 The snow, with noiseless industry, continued 
 to weave thicker and thicker the warm blanket 
 upon which their horses were treading, deaden 
 ing the sound of their hoofs, except when they 
 struck a protruding stone and the sudden flash 
 was reflected upon the white surface. The 
 breath of the horses condensed and hung in drops 
 around their mouths ; the hoods of the ladies 
 clung in damp folds, and all seemed enveloped 
 in a mysterious and shrouding drapery as the 
 snow thickened and remained wherever it fell. 
 The silence all around was deep and unbroken, 
 except by the low and plaintive chirp of a bird, 
 
316 NAOMI. 
 
 lost and seeking its fellows, or by a squirrel 
 darting from one stone to another, faintly stirring 
 the leaves beneath the snow, or by the neighing 
 of one of their horses, which startled them as if 
 it had been an unknown sound. 
 
 They had now again entered within the for 
 est, and the snow, that upon the plain had been 
 above the fetlocks of their horses, scarcely whit 
 ened the path ; they went on, therefore, in com 
 parative comfort ; but the air became thicker 
 and thicker ; the darkness, also, was almost com 
 plete in the forest, and as they went on, single 
 file, each rider could only perceive the one that 
 immediately preceded him. The air, too, as the 
 night advanced, was piercing cold. Naomi s 
 fingers were so sensible of its influence, that 
 she could scarcely hold the reins ; her horse, 
 too, seemed nearly spent, and hardly capable of 
 keeping along the file. The elder went to the 
 head of the cavalcade, and kept the Indian by 
 his side. The day s journey seemed so very 
 long, that he became somewhat suspicious of 
 the fidelity of their guide. They proceeded 
 thus in unbroken silence, Naomi almost blinded 
 by the snow that at every opening or vista was 
 blown furiously against her, for the wind-storm 
 had now arisen. She was obliged to keep her 
 head uncovered, in order to see to guide her 
 
NAOMI. 317 
 
 horse, although from fatigue and exhaustion she 
 was scarcely able to keep upon the saddle. Ruth, 
 wrapped comfortably in her fur cloak and hood r 
 had only to hold fast by the belt of the servant 
 before her. It was so long since she had spoken, 
 that Naomi, believing she had fallen asleep, sent 
 forward her scarf, and directed the servant to 
 pass it around Ruth and fasten it to his own belt, 
 so that no accident could loosen her hold of this 
 support. The newly married clerk did the same 
 by his young wife, and thus they travelled on in 
 greater security. 
 
 Their goal for the night was a woodman s 
 log-cabin, where they had passed a night on 
 their outward way, and the day s ride had been 
 so long and wearisome that all began to fear the 
 Indian had misled them. They recollected that 
 they must first ford a stream, and as they de 
 scended a hill they heard the sound of rushing 
 water. They descended the bank, and soon per 
 ceived that the stream was immensely swollen, 
 the stepping-stones entirely lost, and the stream 
 only visible in the intense darkness by the flash 
 ing of the waves. 
 
 Their situation now was one of real distress, 
 especially for the ladies. The men could have 
 found means for fording the stream, but to the 
 three ladies, with their long and heavy drapery, 
 
318 NAOMI. 
 
 it was really an enterprise attended with danger. 
 While they stood dismounted and clinging to 
 their horses, they perceived through the murky 
 night the glimmering of two lights upon the op 
 posite bank, that seemed moving about as though 
 searching for the ford. A halo had gathered 
 round the torches, but there was a large and 
 bright reflection, showing the skeleton branches 
 and stems of the trees, and that two men stood 
 also upon the bank. They each led a horse by 
 the bridle, and were looking for the best place 
 to swim their horses across the stream. Their 
 blazing torches of resinous pine threw a strong 
 light upon our group of travellers collected on 
 the bank, and presenting a most picturesque 
 scene, the dark and swollen stream, rushing 
 between its whitened banks, over which hung 
 the drooping and skeleton trees, also loaded with 
 snow, and the group of dismounted travellers ; 
 the fatigued horses standing with hanging heads 
 and loosened rein, Naomi s face marble-white 
 with anxiety and fatigue, as she leant against 
 and clung to the mane of her horse, the poor 
 beast leaning its head in mute sympathy against 
 hers, its glossy black coat spotted with snow 
 and mud. 
 
 The relief they felt at this most unlooked-for 
 succor filled their hearts with grateful joy. One 
 
NAOMI. 319 
 
 of the party proposed that they should on the 
 very spot offer up their devout thanksgiving, for 
 the two young men had already swam the swol 
 len stream and stood with their horses amid the 
 weary group. Naomi felt her heart beat quick, 
 and swell with a secret, but intense joy, when 
 she saw that one of them was Herbert Walton, 
 attended by a friend and classmate. Two other 
 men now came up, with torches, and, as the safest 
 ford was found, they prepared to cross. Herbert 
 had already pressed to Naomi s side ; with earnest 
 warmth, he was urging her to alight, for they 
 had again mounted their horses, and to allow 
 him and his friend to carry her across. She 
 thought her own faithful but wearied and droop 
 ing mare would as usual serve her faithfully, and 
 steadily refused his request ; but she consented 
 at last to take his own horse, which was quite 
 fresh, having travelled but two miles this even 
 ing, and the saddles were quickly exchanged. 
 Naomi expected to see Herbert mount her own 
 poor brute, but he gave the rein to one of the 
 men, and placed himself at the head of her 
 horse ; no urging would induce him to mount, 
 and, as he could not avail himself of the stepping- 
 stones, he was soon above his waist in the swol 
 len stream, holding the head of her horse and 
 guiding him gently along. This act of devotion 
 
320 NAOMI. 
 
 seemed to Naomi too great for her to accept ; it 
 sank deeply into her heart, exciting a secret, but 
 fervent joy, mingled also with regret and fear, 
 and an emotion of timid and self-deprecatory 
 humility. The sensitive can understand what 
 it is not easy to describe, that feeling of hu 
 mility, that shrinking from love, as too great 
 a bliss, that feeling of unworthiness to accept 
 a gift so disproportioned to our deserts. These 
 thoughts crowded upon Naomi, and when she 
 spoke her words were mingled with tears. 
 
 As for Herbert, he felt an unmingled joy. He 
 was near, he was protecting, her who was to him 
 the most precious object on this earth. What 
 was the water ? he felt it not ! With wings at 
 his heart, at his head, he was passing through the 
 downy atmosphere of love. He was near her ; 
 his right hand was placed in hers, while with 
 the left he held the rein close to the horse s 
 head ; he felt her breath upon his cheek ; a false 
 step of the horse, and she must have fallen into 
 his arms. What then to him was night, or wet, 
 or cold ? He could have measured kingdoms 
 thus in her service, nor felt a sense of weari 
 ness or want. Such is love in the season of 
 generous youth. Its wings are strong ; they are 
 also white and unspotted. No selfish, impure, 
 or ignoble thought can sully the pure swan s- 
 down of first love. 
 
NAOMI. 321 
 
 The party had nearly all passed the ford, and 
 were mounting their horses again. Herbert still 
 held Naomi s rein, but she was looking around, 
 anxious to see Ruth approach her, when a fear 
 ful shriek was heard close behind her. There 
 was instantly the greatest confusion ; all rushed 
 to the bank again, and when the torches were 
 collected in one spot, poor Ruth was seen, borne 
 down by her heavy garments, and struggling 
 with the swollen waters. It was but the work 
 of a second. Herbert rushed to her ; the water 
 had scarcely penetrated through her thick riding- 
 dress when he bore her in his arms up the bank. 
 She was unused to sitting a horse alone, but it 
 was necessary in fording the river that her horse 
 should be led, and thus she was left alone upon 
 the man s saddle. Ruth, numbed by cold and 
 over-fatigued, had lost her hold, and slipped from 
 the horse into the river as he climbed the bank. 
 
 Although Naomi could neither have foreseen 
 nor prevented the accident, she could scarcely 
 forgive herself that she had not asked Herbert to 
 leave her and protect Ruth. She felt that per 
 haps, absorbed in her new joy, she had for a mo 
 ment forgotten her sister. For the remainder of 
 the short ride to the woodman s cabin she kept 
 Ruth at her side. Herbert would not quit her 
 rein, but walked the short distance before her. 
 21 
 
322 NAOMI. 
 
 Every heart was sobered and every mind thought 
 ful. Ruth had been rescued from a terrible dan 
 ger, and all had received signal mercies. When 
 the party reached the woodman s cottage, and 
 could look into each other s faces by the brilliant 
 light of the pine fire, there could be seen on 
 each countenance various and deep emotions. 
 
 Herbert, as he looked at Naomi and saw that 
 open mirror of feeling, radiant with an angelic 
 expression which seemed only the reflection of 
 deeper emotions than those of gratitude, thought 
 he read there the bliss of his whole future life. 
 The stern Puritans were some of them moved 
 even to tears, and that night there was no mere 
 formal prayer from pious lips alone ; the heart 
 poured out its deep thankfulness in fervent 
 words, and in silent tears, wrung from the deep 
 fountains of the heart. 
 
CHAPTER XXIV. 
 
 THE woodman s cottage where our travellers 
 were now sheltered was not noticed in the first 
 part of the journey. Although in the midst of 
 woods, it stood upon the very verge of civili 
 zation, and after this night the travellers would 
 find comfortable resting-places, however rude, 
 till they reached Boston. The woodman possess 
 ed the patriarch s blessing, a house well filled 
 with sons and daughters. He and his sturdy 
 boys gained their living by thinning the forests 
 all around, and in the winter, after the welcome 
 snows descended, sledding the wood to the Bos 
 ton market. 
 
 The rain during the night had again become a 
 heavy snow ; and when our travellers looked out 
 in the morning, as far as the eye could reach was 
 one unbroken surface of dazzling white. The 
 heavy leaden-colored clouds were indeed drawing 
 oif, and here and there were streaks of delicate 
 blue between ; but a foot s depth of damp, watery 
 snow lay upon the ground, and the air was in 
 tensely chilly and cold. 
 
 When Naomi descended, early in the morning, 
 
324 NAOMI. 
 
 from the loft, where her sleep had been unbro 
 ken, she found the men of the party in deep con 
 sultation. She was struck with the gravity of 
 Herbert s countenance, which, however, as soon 
 as she entered, was radiant with joy. They had 
 been consulting about the best way of proceed 
 ing. There was, indeed, but one way in which 
 the ladies could travel with comfort ; that was, 
 for the woodman s team and oxen to be sent for 
 ward to break a path through the snow. It was 
 afterwards arranged that the stronger portion of 
 the party should precede the ladies, who would 
 bring up the rear upon a well-broken path. 
 
 As soon as a moment occurred when Herbert 
 could speak to Naomi unobserved, he informed 
 her, with as much delicacy and caution as possi 
 ble, that the escape of Margaret was known im 
 mediately after she came away ; and that it had 
 been impossible to conceal from the officers who 
 were employed in the matter the active part she 
 had taken in the escape. " And," he added, in a 
 low and tremulous voice, fearful lest he should 
 alarm her too suddenly, " they are only waiting 
 for your return to act with the utmost rigor." 
 
 Naomi neither fainted nor wept. She looked 
 steadily at Herbert. " It is only what I expect 
 ed," she said ; " and I am certainly obliged to 
 the gentlemen that they have suffered me to 
 
NAOMI. 325 
 
 take this pleasant journey through the forest, 
 instead of obliging me to spend the beautiful 
 Indian summer shut up within the walls of a 
 prison." 
 
 " As soon as I had the least intimation of their 
 design," continued Herbert, " I made an excuse 
 for accompanying my college chum into the 
 woods, for a few days hunting (I must carry 
 home a deer or two). Of course, I would not 
 even tell Faith, lest something should be sus 
 pected ; and my friend David thinks at this mo 
 ment that our meeting with you last evening 
 was wholly accidental." 
 
 Naomi looked her thanks, she even took his 
 hand ; but that look was so eloquent that Her 
 bert forgot he had done any thing, and was try 
 ing to think what he could do, to deserve such a 
 grateful smile. 
 
 " But," said he, " all will be of no avail unless 
 you turn aside and remain in Providence, or any 
 where but Boston. Let me use the influence of 
 a brother, let me be to you the voice of your 
 mother, and beg you not to set foot in Boston. 
 You do not know, you cannot understand, the 
 danger you are running into." 
 
 Herbert had spoken so earnestly that the tears 
 stood in his eyes. 
 
 " It is too late," said Naomi; " I know no one 
 
326 NAOMI. 
 
 in Providence. I could, indeed, go to the ever- 
 open door, to the hospitable roof of Roger 
 Williams j but the journey would be as hazard 
 ous as to go back to Connecticut." 
 
 " There are other places," said Herbert. " My 
 sister, O, how happy would be my sister to 
 receive you, and how honored would be our 
 humble roof if you would dwell there a few 
 days ! " 
 
 Herbert s face and brow had become crimson ; 
 but as Naomi shook her head, as though such 
 a step were out of the question, he became pale 
 and agitated. 
 
 " I thank you," said Naomi ; " but I feel 
 the need of returning to my step-father s roof. 
 Treacherous protection as it may be to me, yet 
 there is my proper place, and there is Faith, my 
 best friend. I must meet the charge, too ; that 
 is inevitable. I am not guilty, certainly, to Him 
 who reads the heart, and we must not tremble 
 before the judgments of men." 
 
 Naomi had no one to consult. She instinc 
 tively shrank from accepting the solitary escort of 
 Herbert, and she could not make a confidant of 
 the elder, and ask him to divide the party, so 
 that one part could guard her to a place of safety. 
 The witch s cabin occurred to her ; but, although 
 it was invested with a sort of romance from the 
 
NAOMI. 327 
 
 witch s heart-rending narrative, she felt that it 
 would be the most dreary of retreats from dan 
 ger. No ; she must return to her home. She 
 felt the need of being under a kindred roof, 
 step-father although he might prove to her. 
 She felt the want of the sympathy, the firm and 
 courageous advice, of Faith. She needed only 
 to look into her hopeful eyes, to hear the cheer 
 ful ringing of her musical voice, to feel strong 
 and firm. Yes, she would return, if the next 
 day she must flee again. Resolutely, therefore, 
 she mounted her favorite, now refreshed and 
 alert as ever. The offence she had committed 
 was, in her view of it, a sacred duty ; and she 
 was ready to take the consequences, to defend 
 it, or to bear the penalty. 
 
 Naomi would not allow her anxieties to throw 
 ,a cloud over the party ; they proceeded, there 
 fore, gayly on their course, feeling, as all do at 
 the end of a long journey, that home is more 
 precious than ever. Indeed, it is said that the 
 horses even always rejoice when they are re 
 turning to Boston ; and that the crooked streets, 
 the broken and uneven pavements, are a very 
 Mohammed s paradise to them. 
 
 The sun came out and turned the landscape 
 to fairy-land, and hung a glittering jewel on 
 every branch, and adorned the withered forests, 
 like dowagers, with coronets of diamonds. 
 
328 NAOMI. 
 
 Herbert rode, whenever the path would admit 
 two, by the side of Naomi. The service he had 
 rendered to both the sisters seemed to entitle 
 him to that place, and although, when the elder 
 rode up, he gave way and fell into the rear, yet 
 the moment there was room to pass, his horse, 
 restless in every other position, pushed forward, 
 and was instantly quiet and steady by the side 
 of Naomi. This excited the observation and 
 the mirth of the company, and many dry Puritan 
 jokes were uttered, with almost the same disas 
 trous effect as attended the one joke of Douce 
 Davie Deans. 
 
 Naomi observed with pain that Ruth did not 
 join in the mirth ; that she rode, pale, silent, and 
 tearful, behind her cavalier, and took no part in 
 the gayety that the beautiful day and the nu 
 merous company and the prospect of returning 
 to Boston seemed to excite. She thought, per 
 haps, that she had suffered from her plunge in 
 the river, and she would not draw the attention 
 of the others upon her unusual taciturnity. 
 
 Naomi called, and requested the man behind 
 whom she was placed to keep as near as possible 
 to her. She wished to have her under her im 
 mediate care, to watch whether it were illness 
 that made her so unusually sad. But this was 
 impossible while Herbert s horse contended per- 
 
NAOMI. 329 
 
 petually for the place next to Naomi. A bright 
 thought occurred to Herbert, that he should take 
 Ruth on a pillion behind himself; he would 
 thus have another reason to keep his place in the 
 cavalcade, that Ruth might be near her sister. 
 
 Under such circumstances, thrown as it were 
 into intimate relations with each other, and Naomi 
 unable to withdraw from his protecting side, del 
 icacy forbade, even if timidity would have al 
 lowed, him to speak distinctly of that which 
 filled his whole being, that trembled in his 
 voice, radiated from the depths of his eye, and 
 wrapped his whole person in the garment of joy. 
 Naomi felt its influence. There was no need 
 of speech ; their hearts spoke to each other. 
 They felt that, in the whole universe attuned 
 by God to the blessed influences of love, their 
 hearts, like two perfect musical instruments, an 
 swered to each other, trembled with the same 
 touch, and vibrated to the same sacred breath. 
 
 Nothing occurred to interrupt or retard the safe 
 arrival of our travellers at their homes. Naomi s 
 danger had been whispered among the party, and, 
 in order to excite as little attention as possible, 
 they returned, not in company, but by twos and 
 threes to Charlestown and to Watertown ; some 
 of them, and among these Naomi and Ruth, left 
 their horses at Charlestowrt, and crossed the ferry 
 
330 NAOMI. 
 
 to Boston. They entered their father s house 
 just at nightfall, when the family supper had 
 been removed and the Bible placed on the table 
 for the evening worship. Natural feeling with 
 our fathers was so entirely subjected to the daily 
 forms of religion, to the letter of the law, that the 
 evening prayers were finished before any ques 
 tions were asked. The prayer, that had been 
 offered every night for the safety of the wander 
 ing lambs of the little flock, was turned into a 
 thanksgiving for their happy return. Naomi and 
 Ruth joined their sweet voices in the hymn, and 
 at the last line Ruth turned towards her father, 
 and Naomi threw herself into the arms of Faith. 
 
 While relating, with lively interest, the details 
 of their journey, Naomi observed the uneasiness 
 of Mr. Aldersey and the anxiety that rested, with 
 so deep and unusual a shade of seriousness, up 
 on the countenance of Faith. She said, inter 
 rupting her account of the witch, "I already 
 know that I am in danger. Tell me the extent 
 of it, that I may be prepared to meet it." 
 
 Mr. Aldersey now looked at her with so stern 
 and penetrating a glance that Naomi felt her face 
 glow, even to the temples. Faith instantly in 
 terposed, and asked so many questions of Ruth, 
 that Naomi regained her composure, and met 
 her step-father s searching looks with a pure 
 
NAOMI. 331 
 
 and open brow, where no infirmity of purpose 
 changed the pale ivory of her cheek. 
 
 The young girls had not yet put off their 
 heavy and travel-stained habits. They had 
 thrown off their hats, and Faith was regarding 
 with a look of pity, mingled a little with con 
 tempt, the broken and drenched feather of Nao 
 mi s hat, and the limp and faded bow upon 
 Ruth s, when a heavy knock was heard upon 
 the front door. Faith started; her dark com 
 plexion became intensely sallow, and a deep 
 pale circle formed beneath each eye ; instead of 
 fainting, such is the effect of fear upon strong, 
 but intensely feeling natures. Mr. Aldersey look 
 ed uneasily at the parlour-door, for he had heard 
 Sambo go to open the outward one. Naomi and 
 Ruth were both carelessly unconcerned. They 
 were soon aware of a dispute at the door. They 
 heard Sambo say that he was sure he did not 
 know, he could not tell, he did not believe, 
 not he, that Miss Omai had got home, he 
 did not s pose she would come home under a 
 week. When she did get back he would send 
 for the gentlemen. 
 
 Mr. Aldersey rose and threw open the parlour- 
 door. Instantly the officers of the law entered. 
 The warrant that they held in their hand was 
 perfectly in order, and had been signed more 
 
332 NAOMI. 
 
 than a month. Naomi must yield herself, that 
 very night, weary as she was, to the unsleeping 
 vigilance of justice. What a heavy weight fell 
 upon the hearts of all in that little circle. Mr. 
 Aldersey felt a proud and indignant anger, that 
 he should be suspected of harbouring a Quaker 
 under his roof, and repelled the charge with 
 scorn. He would have scorned, had he known 
 it, to have held under his roof one who had pre 
 sumed to aid the accursed sect. 
 
 Faith, who had hitherto met every thing with 
 cheerful trust, was, for a moment, completely 
 subdued. Naomi rose above them all. She sur 
 rendered herself with humility, but with a forti 
 tude that would fain revive the hearts of her 
 friends. The only indulgence allowed the wea 
 ry prisoner was to change her dress before she 
 accompanied the officer to the jail. 
 
 It may excite some surprise in my readers 
 that Naomi, so lovely and so interesting as she is 
 represented, should have found no powerful 
 friend, no warm advocate, among the young and 
 ingenuous people of Boston to come forward at 
 this time and espouse her cause. It must be 
 recollected that she had been scarcely *a year in 
 Boston, and a third of that time had been passed 
 in travelling to Connecticut. It is true, the 
 young Puritans, the beaux of the period, always 
 
NAOMI. 333 
 
 cast furtive glances at Naomi at church, and ob 
 served every change in her dress or deportment ; 
 and when they met each other, one said, "I 
 have seen her " ; another, "I have bowed to 
 her." Staring, as it is now practised, would 
 have been deemed so indecorous and irreverent, 
 that it might have subjected the young man to a 
 seat upon the pulpit-stairs. Mr. Aldersey never 
 invited young men to his house, and the only 
 opportunities they had of seeing her were those 
 which the Sunday and the Thursday Lecture 
 afforded. Then the young men took care to 
 follow as closely behind her as possible, and 
 pause at her father s door till it was closed. 
 
 In their convivial hours, for even then the 
 young Puritans had their convivial hours, 
 the conversation was of Aldersey s step-daugh 
 ter ; and bets were laid that they would beard 
 the bear in his den, and woo or carry off the 
 daughter. Whoever has read the annals or the 
 sermons of the period has found most fearful 
 lamentations over the degeneracies and back- 
 slidings of the young men of the day. They 
 were probably the lamentations of the old, who 
 had forgotten their own youth. Ah ! while there 
 are meetings of the young, there will be " cakes 
 and ale " ; and while there are colleges for the 
 young, there will be bonfires. 
 
334 NAOMI. 
 
 Naomi, also, could not give herself up to those 
 expansive feelings that excite warm sympathy 
 from others of her own sex. She was conscious 
 of a secret, of carrying about within her in 
 most heart a secret so grave, that, if it had been 
 known, it might have subjected her to the horri 
 ble fate of Mary Dyer. Although she was the 
 soul of benevolence, and ready for every kindly 
 feeling, this consciousness of being not exactly 
 what she seemed imparted a species of reserve 
 to her manners that prevented the young women 
 of Boston society from clinging closely to her. 
 
 But Naomi was young and courageous. No 
 deep sorrows had drunk up and drained the 
 springs of hope within her. She had never 
 passed through the dry and burning paths of 
 life, where at every step some hope withers, 
 some support falls away. She stood upon the 
 morning elevations of life, looking upon the 
 sunny paths around. Happy are those who 
 meet with sorrow in early life, when the courage 
 is high, the hopes all bright, and the inexperi 
 ence of the world has as yet revealed no cold 
 ness, no selfish-hearted friends, who turn their 
 footsteps from the unfortunate, and leave them 
 to solitude and anguish I 
 
CHAPTER XXV. 
 
 " Stone walls do not a prison make, 
 
 Nor iron bars a cage ; 
 Minds innocent and quiet take 
 That for an hermitage." 
 
 THE Boston jail was at this time a small and 
 inconvenient building, situated in what is now 
 Court Street. It was already crowded with the 
 people called Quakers ; some of them treated 
 with extreme rigor, having their legs chained to 
 heavy logs of wood,^ and obliged at every step 
 to drag after them a formidable weight. Prison 
 ers of both sexes were crowded together in the 
 common apartment, thus encouraging each other 
 in their fanatical excitement and frequently 
 blasphemous imprecations against the govern 
 ment, the religion, and the ministers. Their 
 ravings attracted so often the attention and the 
 sympathy of the passers-by, that the past year a 
 high wall had been built all around the jail, ren 
 dering it still more gloomy to the inmates. 
 
 Naomi had the good-fortune to be placed in a 
 very small room by herself. It was an attic, 
 with a small gable window with diamond panes. 
 
336 NAOMI. 
 
 It did not admit a fireplace, but she could endure 
 any degree of cold to enjoy the luxury of pri 
 vacy and retirement from the common room. 
 Naomi was humble, and perhaps, in comparing 
 herself with her fellow-creatures, she was too 
 lowly in her self-esteem ; yet from the refinement 
 of her tastes, and the beautiful purity of all her 
 thoughts, she shrank from the contact of daily 
 intercourse with the ignorant and the vulgar. 
 The soul of benevolence and of loving-kindness, 
 she yet felt keenly all that offended the purity 
 of her mind in low ideas and vulgar expressions. 
 The Quakers, especially the females, as I have 
 said before, who came to this country, were of a 
 low order of intellect, and extremely illiterate. 
 The principle of their religion flattered self- 
 esteem and fostered spiritual pride, and gave to 
 their deportment an offensive degree of arro 
 gance and contempt for others ; while, then, 
 among them, she was not of them. Naomi, al 
 though she differed altogether from the Orthodox 
 church, held nothing in common with the Quak 
 ers of that day but the essential principle of 
 their faith, the belief of the inward voice of 
 truth in the soul ; this she held above all other 
 inspiration, to be obeyed and honored as the 
 voice of God, obeyed rather than the authority 
 of any church, were it the church of the bish- 
 
NAOMI. 337 
 
 ops, or the church of the elders. She adopted 
 none of the peculiarities of the Quakers ; she 
 thee-d and thou-ed no one. Her dress differed 
 only from the reigning fashion by its more taste 
 ful simplicity ; she had too true an eye for 
 beauty to wear the superfluous flounces and rib 
 bons, or the whalebones " that imprisoned Eng 
 lish women in the French cages " of the day, 
 as described by the " Simple Cobbler of Aga- 
 warn." Naomi did not feel, indeed, that mag 
 nanimous contempt which the cobbler expresses 
 for such devotees to fashion, as to call them 
 " the very gizzard of a trifle, the product of a 
 quarter of a cipher, the epitome of nothing, fit 
 only to be kicked." But she knew better than 
 to break the pure alabaster of her throat with 
 strings of beads ; and to have adorned herself 
 with the exaggerated ornaments of the mode 
 would have been to hang jewels upon a pure 
 marble statue. 
 
 As soon as her bed was arranged, Naomi went 
 to her little cell. There, seated by the table, 
 with her head bent over her arms, she gave her 
 self up to reflection upon the melancholy reality 
 of her situation. She was alone ; was she not 
 also friendless ? She had indeed no friend upon 
 whose aid she could count. She felt no confi 
 dence in the will or the power of her step-father 
 22 
 
338 NAOMI. 
 
 to stand by her with his friendship, or to shield 
 her with his protection. She was too single- 
 minded herself to attribute to him selfish views 
 with regard to her property ; but she was not 
 yet of age, and of course, in case of her death, 
 whatever was not secured in England would fall 
 into his hands. She knew well that he had not 
 the moral courage to defend her against the tide 
 of public opinion. He was too orthodox a mem 
 ber of the church, too stern a Puritan, to feel any 
 sympathy for a heretic ; and should she lose the 
 odor of the true faith in the nostrils of elders 
 and church-members, she would become as of 
 fensive as carrion to the sanctimonious taste of 
 her step-father. 
 
 To the reader unacquainted with the history 
 and opinions of the times, the idea that holding 
 a particular religious faith could wither and blast 
 the whole character of a young woman must 
 appear unintelligible. But it must be under 
 stood that the ministers, the elders, and the 
 church-members were the fashionable circle of 
 the time ; they were the elite of the whole 
 people; they formed the tribunal of public opin 
 ion ; to lose caste with them was to lose every 
 thing ; there was no class of worldly people 
 to fall back upon ; whoever was not a devout 
 church-member, whoever was not exemplary at 
 
NAOMI. 339 
 
 church, at church-meetings, and at prayers, to 
 use the words of another, which can be scarcely 
 deemed profane, whoever did not 
 
 " Snuff his candle with a prayer, 
 And with a prayer wind up his watch, 
 And go to prayer at striking of the clock," 
 
 was looked upon with suspicion, as losing favor 
 in the fashionable circle, as would be, at the pres 
 ent day, a fashionable belle, if suspected of at 
 tending the Methodist or the Millerite meetings. 
 Faith, although she would have defended and 
 even have given her life for her favorite, had no 
 influence in the circle that formed the public 
 opinion. Believing in her heart that Naomi was 
 as true a believer, and nearer to the kingdom of 
 the angels, than many of those who prayed 
 openly ten times a day, yet, if called upon to 
 give her testimony, she could not say that Naomi 
 was exemplary in the outward forms of piety. 
 She knew well that that pure and humble heart 
 beat ever with the pulses of prayer, but she saw 
 no lengthened countenance, and witnessed no 
 bended knee. There was another heart that 
 would have poured out the ruddy tide that cir 
 cled round it to save her j but any exertion of 
 his would have tended to injure rather than to 
 aid her cause. The blossom of hope and love, 
 that had just begun to open its petals for them, 
 
340 NAOMI. 
 
 must be buried under the dry leaves of the old, 
 withered forests of Jewish and Hebrew forms, 
 or crushed upon the sterile rocks of orthodoxy, 
 like those lovely little blossoms that open their 
 delicate beauty upon the granite of the moun 
 tain. Ah ! she was alone, defenceless, a lamb 
 among wolves. 
 
 So entirely was Naomi overwhelmed with the 
 desolateness of her position, that morning dawned, 
 gray and cheerless, upon the bars of her prison- 
 window before she lifted her head from her 
 folded arms ; then, shivering, completely chilled 
 by the night, she laid herself, dressed as she was, 
 upon the bed, and sought oblivion from depress 
 ing thought in the friendly arms of sleep. 
 
 Forlorn as Naomi felt herself to be, she was 
 even more friendless than she herself knew. 
 There was a bitterness of public opinion against 
 her, of which she was as ignorant as the plant 
 that is blighted by the noxious vapor that cir 
 cles in the air about its tender blossom, and, like 
 the delicate character of a woman, is blighted be 
 fore it fades. During her absence on the journey 
 to Connecticut, slanders had arisen, and, like the 
 snowball, gathered strength and size as they 
 rolled on. We must go back to say that the 
 mildest and most liberal of the church had 
 passed away to their reward. The state of re- 
 
NAOMI. 341 
 
 ligious sentiment had changed in Boston in the 
 thirty years since the persecution of Mrs. Hutch- 
 inson. The earliest emigrants recognized the 
 right of private judgment in religion ; and at the 
 time of her persecution there was found to be a 
 party of liberal-minded persons in the church, so 
 that her banishment was obtained by only one 
 vote. But the evil that had arisen from this di 
 vision in the church had been so deep a scandal 
 to the godly, that a reaction had taken place, and 
 the strictest rein of orthodoxy had never since 
 been relaxed by magistrate or minister. 
 
 As none but church-members were freemen of 
 the State, none but church-members could take 
 any part in the administration of the govern 
 ment, or hold even the lowest office ; and as 
 none could be church-members but such as the 
 ministers approved, their influence extended to 
 all the minutiaB of private life, bore upon the 
 private happiness of every individual. No bro 
 ken-down victim of misfortune could hold the 
 office of bell-ringer, no unlucky vagrant could 
 enjoy the privilege of herding swine, without the 
 consent of the ministers. The ministers gov 
 erned public opinion ; and orthodoxy, to the 
 church and to the ministers of the church, was 
 the test of character. As I said before, during 
 Naomi s absence slanders had gathered against 
 
342 NAOMI. 
 
 her sufficient to overwhelm her. Besides strong 
 suspicions against the orthodoxy of her opinions, 
 and conjectures about the kind of heresy she en 
 tertained, there was enough in her practice to 
 condemn her. It was whispered that she did 
 not attend the morning prayers of her father s 
 family. It was said that she was rarely seen at 
 the Thursday Lecture ; that she had been met 
 walking upon the Neck during the hours of the 
 weekly Lecture; they even asserted that she 
 had been seen upon the western side of Beacon 
 Hill before the disk of the sun was below the 
 horizon on a Sunday evening, and also after it 
 had entirely sunk on the evening preceding the 
 Sabbath. She was, indeed, a member of the 
 church, but she had given no express manifesta 
 tion by outward act that she was in a state of 
 grace ; by a particular favor, the relation of her 
 religious experience had been dispensed with 
 when she joined the church ; her conversation 
 at least with mere acquaintances was never 
 upon religious subjects ; and she did not follow 
 with reverential humility the footsteps of the 
 ministers, as in Catholic countries the women 
 kiss the hem of the garments of the priests. 
 
 These were the slanders that, in her absence, 
 had been whispered from ear to ear, and carried 
 from house to house ; so completely a charac- 
 
NAOMI. 343 
 
 ter like Naomi s could remain unrecognized by 
 the little circle around her ! Indeed, unassuming 
 and humble characters like hers live unknown 
 in all societies; their beautiful simplicity and 
 heavenly-mindedness are known only to the eye 
 of Omniscience, loved only by the angels, unless 
 some pure-hearted saint like Faith is able to pen 
 etrate the veil of humility, and stamp upon her 
 own heart " the daily beauty " of such a life. 
 
 The arrest of Naomi was a thunderbolt to her 
 step-father. His nervous and fretful anxiety 
 lest he should himself fall under the censure of 
 public opinion kept him in a state of perpetual 
 restlessness. His selfishness cut off all hope of 
 aid from him ; he was rather, in his own opin 
 ion, himself the object of sympathy and com 
 miseration ; his house had been tainted with 
 heresy, and he went about wearing the crown 
 and sceptre of martyrdom. 
 
 At the dawn of day, Faith was at the prison- 
 door. She was early admitted, and bent over 
 Naomi with an encouraging smile when she 
 woke from that uneasy sleep in which we left 
 her. Naomi blessed that faithful friend, in whom 
 there was no change ; no crust of bigotry or 
 spiritual pride shut the honest heart from her 
 view ; and Faith, as she looked into those clear 
 eyes and down into that pure heart, saw the 
 
344 NAOMI. 
 
 same unconscious simplicity, the same trans 
 parent truth, that could stoop neither to subter 
 fuge nor to mental reservation. 
 
 The ministers wore grave and anxious faces. 
 It was one of their own flock that had gone 
 astray; and it was not a time in the church 
 when there was more rejoicing over one that was 
 found than over ninety-and-nine that had never 
 gone astray. Naomi was one of their own 
 lambs, her step-father one of the pillars of the 
 church ; but the more painful the duty, the more 
 were the hearts of many fixed to purge the 
 church from the offence, even if it were to pluck 
 out the right eye and cast it from them. 
 
 No words can paint the agony of these days 
 to Herbert Walton. Restless, unable to think 
 but of her, breathing at every breath a prayer or 
 a curse from his deepest heart, he wandered back 
 and forth, day and night, from his home to the 
 street where stood the prison, like the mother 
 bird around the nest where lie all her hopes, 
 beating her restless wings to save them from the 
 hawk, powerless to save, yet frantic to lose, al 
 most wishing for the worst, that the suspended 
 agony might crush at once his uncertainties and 
 fears. To vivid, impatient natures, " suspense is 
 hell." Herbert was stretched upon the rack, 
 waiting for the slow dawn of the winter s day 
 
NAOMI. 345 
 
 to rush into Boston, to wander through the 
 streets, and fix his eyes upon the narrow win 
 dow of Naomi s cell, and to hasten, as soon as 
 the shades of the early winter evening gathered 
 over the little town, to catch the first ray of that 
 small taper that was lighted within her prison. 
 
CHAPTER XXYI. 
 
 " Rich he was, of holy thought and work, 
 He was also a learned man, a clerk, 
 That Christes Gospel truely would preach ; 
 His parishens devoutly would he teach ; 
 Benign he was, and wondrous diligent, 
 And in adversity full patient." (CHAUCER. 
 
 THE evening was dark and stormy, a winter 
 evening in the month of December. The day 
 had been fair, a Thursday, the day of the 
 market and Lecture, and, as the sleighing was 
 good, the first steady sleighing of the season, 
 the little town of Boston had been unusually 
 animated. Sleighs and sleds had been passing 
 through the main street the whole day, and un 
 til late in the evening ; but it was now seven 
 o clock, and quiet and order reigned throughout 
 all the crooked and intricate lanes of the little 
 town. The doors and windows were closed, 
 and families gathered around to listen to the 
 voice of prayer. 
 
 At the Thursday Lecture that day, Mr. Wil 
 son and Mr. Norton had invited the ministers of 
 the neighbouring towns to remain all night, and 
 to meet at the study of the Rev. Mr. Wilson, to 
 
NAOMI. 347 
 
 discuss a matter of church discipline. Naomi 
 was amenable to the discipline of the church, as 
 was every one who joined that body ; and al 
 though in her case the recounting of religious 
 experiences had been dispensed with, yet she had 
 signed the church covenant, and thus submit 
 ted herself to " the watch and ward " of that 
 body. 
 
 Let me introduce my readers to a commodious 
 house, at the corner of what is now called Wil 
 son s Lane. The house stood in the midst of a 
 garden and an orchard, and was flanked on either 
 side by commodious barns and out-houses. The 
 snow lay heavy upon the branches of the apple 
 and plum trees, and, although it was well worn 
 in the adjoining market-place by country sleds, it 
 lay in all its virgin whiteness in the orchard and 
 garden ; the stumps of the last year s corn, not 
 yet removed, just appearing above its sparkling 
 surface. 
 
 In a back room of this house, the study of 
 the Rev. Mr. Wilson, the ministers and elders 
 were about assembling. Two small candles 
 cast little light upon their anxious faces; but 
 the chimney, built when the forests were all 
 standing, was now heaped with glowing logs, 
 and diffused that flickering and uncertain fire 
 light, now rising into brilliancy, and now sink- 
 
348 NAOMI. 
 
 ing into shadow, which, thrown upon the human 
 countenance, makes it an enigma to read. The 
 broad brick hearth, polished with use, was of a 
 glowing red, and was covered thickly with the 
 white floating ashes of the hickory logs. Two 
 enormous andirons, with the heads and feet of gro 
 tesque animals, supported these logs. An oaken 
 cabinet, curiously carved in coarse workmanship, 
 stood on one side of the room. Upon its front 
 were carved Adam and Eve in Paradise, with the 
 serpent presenting an apple to Eve, so much larger 
 than her own head, that it would almost seem to 
 suggest the idea that it would serve for all her 
 posterity, and thus transmit the transgression. 
 On the other side of the room was arranged upon 
 shelves the library of the reverend divine ; great 
 folios of divinity, ponderous volumes of the fa 
 thers of the church, and the heathen classics, 
 in white parchment bindings, stood side by side. 
 The venerable authors of some of the books 
 of divinity, such as Owen and Baxter, hung in 
 richly-wrought ebony frames against the wall. 
 Two other engravings were also suspended upon 
 opposite walls. The coarse and hardy portrait 
 of Oliver Cromwell frowned opposite to the sad 
 and melancholy representation of him who was 
 afterwards called the Martyr. There were very 
 few modem books ; I mean books of that age, 
 
NAOMI. 349 
 
 now ancient to us. It was a rare and priceless 
 treasure when a vessel from the mother country 
 brought out a thin quarto, or a pamphlet, just 
 from the press. Such a treasure the Rev. Mr. 
 Wilson had lately received ; a thin quarto lay 
 open upon the table, " Poems by John Mil 
 ton." This volume contained The Mask of 
 Comus, L Allegro, and II Penseroso, and some 
 Latin poems.* Mr. Wilson was a poet himself ; 
 the book had completely enchanted him, but he 
 had laid it aside when his brethren began to as 
 semble, as a trifling study, irrelevant to the cause 
 of their coming together. 
 
 As the black-cassocked gentlemen dropped in, 
 the slight scraping of feet upon the white, sanded 
 floor was audible. The chairs were all filled, 
 and one of the brethren approached the table, 
 and turned over the leaves of the new quarto. 
 " See," said he, with a slight smile, to another, 
 " with what studies our spiritual father amuses 
 his precious hours." 
 
 The other looked at the title-page. " The 
 most delightful book," he said, " that the centu 
 ry has produced. I have read it. The poems 
 are by the late secretary of Cromwell." 
 
 " And now a poor, blind schoolmaster," said 
 
 * Paradise Lost had not yet been written. 
 
350 NAOMI. 
 
 the other, " saved from the scaffold by the act of 
 oblivion of our blessed king." 
 
 A slight smile and shrug passed round the 
 room. 
 
 " The renowned Latin secretary of Oliver 
 Cromwell," said Mr. Wilson. " But I venture to 
 predict that he will not be remembered in future 
 ages for that distinction, but as the most re 
 nowned poet in the English tongue." 
 
 " There is another poet," said a young man 
 present, " that I love better than the stern 
 Roundhead. He, too, was imprisoned for his 
 loyalty. In old Westminster he composed some 
 of his sweetest poems." And the young man 
 repeated, 
 
 " Stone walls do not a prison make, 
 
 Nor iron bars a cage ; 
 Minds innocent and quiet take 
 That for a hermitage. 
 
 " If I have freedom in my love, 
 
 And in my soul am free, 
 Angels alone, that soar above, 
 Enjoy such liberty." 
 
 " There," said he, " can you match in simpli 
 city and beauty such lines as these ? " 
 
 Mr. Wilson said that these were lines simply 
 beautiful ; but that in Milton there were lines 
 full of deep thought, and of a sublimity of ex 
 pression that could not be surpassed in Homer. 
 
NAOMI. 351 
 
 The other said, Homer was the poet of all 
 ages, while Milton was only a Puritan, a secta 
 rian, and a bitter enemy, he acknowledged, to 
 all tyranny. 
 
 " Well," said Mr. Wilson, John Milton, as 
 you will see, will be the poet of all ages and of 
 all nations." 
 
 " We shall hardly live to see it," said the oth 
 er, laughing. 
 
 " No," said Mr. Wilson j " but we shall see 
 him take his place with the greatest of poets." 
 
 Mr. Wilson s prophecy was not fulfilled so 
 soon as he expected j but, considering that the 
 Paradise Lost was not then published, the proph 
 ecy itself may be considered remarkable. 
 
 All had now arrived who were expected. 
 They had met for consultation upon a point of 
 church authority and discipline, and to seek the 
 Divine aid in prayer. It was evident, from the 
 anxiety and gravity of their countenances, that a 
 weight of responsibility rested upon their minds. 
 The question before them was, whether Nao 
 mi, being one of the church, subject to watch 
 and ward from them, should be withdrawn from 
 the civil authority, and subjected to examination 
 and censure of the church (for the ministers 
 never doubted their power to withdraw her), or 
 be suffered to take her trial with the others, and 
 
352 NAOMI. 
 
 afterwards subjected to the church examination 
 and censure. 
 
 Wilson, being the oldest among them, was 
 expected to lead their deliberations. The ven 
 erable old man was now for the most lenient 
 measures. The loss of his children and his love 
 ly grandchildren had deeply touched and softened 
 his heart. His opinion was decidedly that she 
 should be withdrawn from the civil prosecution, 
 and be let off with a spiritual, but not too severe, 
 admonition from the church. The old man was 
 almost alone in this advice. Many were for the 
 severest proceedings. They pleaded that there 
 were great backslidings in the church. God 
 would soon enter into judgment with them on 
 account of their degeneracy from the piety of 
 their fathers. The magistrates had lately issued 
 a letter to all the churches in the land, calling 
 upon them for a more intense devotion, a return 
 to their first love, to repent of their coldness 
 and lukewarmness ; and, under the circumstan 
 ces, the case of Naomi seemed to be thrown ex 
 actly before them, to try and prove their sincer 
 ity. Here was a young woman belonging to 
 one of the first families in the colony, rich, and 
 supposed to possess many powerful friends. Now 
 it was urged that there should be no respect of 
 persons ; a stem regard to duty should be with 
 
NAOMI. 353 
 
 the church paramount to all claims of friendship 
 or family. They should hate father and mother, 
 brother and sister, lover and friend, for the cause 
 of God and the church. 
 
 John Norton here interposed, with his deep 
 voice and stern expression. It was not worth 
 while, he said, to be hypocrites, and to give 
 themselves credit for a zeal for the church which 
 they did not possess. For his part, he thought 
 John Aldersey s step-daughter, meek as she 
 seemed, held dangerous opinions, and had wit 
 enough to conceal them. He had thought so 
 from the very first day he saw her. She was 
 likely to give them a good deal of trouble, and 
 therefore he was for the severest measures of the 
 civil court. Let her be banished, he said, and 
 that as soon as possible, lest they should one day 
 be tempted to hang her for her wit, as they did 
 Mrs. Hibbins. 
 
 This remark of Norton s seemed to change 
 the character of the discussion. Every one had 
 some story to tell, or some remark to repeat that 
 had been attributed to Naomi, and all of a nature 
 to disparage the ministers and the New England 
 church. They were all of them false, or greatly 
 exaggerated ; they were the gossip of the day, 
 words put into Naomi s mouth that her tongue 
 had never uttered ; but they served to remove 
 23 
 
354 NAOMI. 
 
 her from the sympathies of the kindest hearts 
 there, and to obtain a unanimous vote afterwards 
 that the ministers should make no effort to shel 
 ter her from the severity of the civil tribunal, 
 but let justice take its course. 
 
 One or two of the younger brethren now ven 
 tured to raise their voices. They were young 
 men, and they had been touched by the meek 
 ness and beauty of Naomi s appearance. Could 
 there not be a remonstrance presented to the 
 magistrates against any severe or brutal meas 
 ures in the case of Naomi? they asked. The 
 country, they said, would bear no more scourg- 
 ings, or brandings with a hot iron. Beside, 
 what had she in fact done ? She had performed 
 an act of humanity, from a motive of gratitude ; 
 and could they punish that without disgracing 
 themselves ? 
 
 This was not the question, said Mr. Norton ; 
 it was her opinions, not her acts, that they had 
 to do with. He would gladly, if it were possi 
 ble, separate the one from the other, commend 
 her humanity and curse her heresy. He would 
 have burned the one, and cherished the other. 
 
 Like Isabella, when she sanctioned the Inquisi 
 tion, and Paul, when he slew and imprisoned the 
 first Christians, the ministers verily thought they 
 were doing God service. 
 
NAOMI. 355 
 
 Just as they had come to the conclusion that 
 leniency must be dispensed with in the case 
 of Naomi, a knock was heard at the door, and 
 one of their clerical brethren, a young man well 
 known to them, entered. He had that mo 
 ment arrived from Connecticut. He was a gen 
 tleman of about thirty, and had seen Naomi 
 several times on her late visit to New Haven, 
 and after she left had felt a void in his life, a 
 restlessness and uncertainty of purpose, that im 
 pelled him to follow her, and, if possible, regain his 
 quietude and peace of mind in her society. His 
 appearance indicated the utmost asceticism of life ; 
 he was emaciated, but with an intellectual coun 
 tenance, with piercing black eyes that seemed 
 kindled to a burning coal beneath his thick, over 
 hanging eyebrows. The natural paleness of his 
 complexion was deepened by the communication 
 he was about to make. As he passed up from 
 the North End, where his friends dwelt, to the 
 house of Mr. Wilson, his thoughts so centred 
 in his own emotions that he scarcely lifted his 
 eyes from the ground, he was startled by an in 
 stantaneous and vivid light. The sun had been 
 long beneath the horizon, and, as he lifted his 
 eyes towards the western sky, he saw a porten 
 tous meteor, a supernatural appearance, a spear 
 of a deep red color, the color of blood, the point 
 
356 NAOMI. 
 
 turned downwards towards the land. It paused 
 for a few moments, and seemed shaken as by 
 some invisible hand, and then sunk slowly be 
 neath the horizon. 
 
 This wonderful phenomenon turned the atten 
 tion of the ministers from Naomi to other por 
 tentous appearances, and every one had some 
 miracle more appalling than the other to relate. 
 During these relations every pale face became a 
 shade paler, in the dim light of the apartment. 
 Prayer was instantly offered, while they trem 
 bled with dread of God s wrath. The peculiar 
 views which our fathers entertained of the invis 
 ible world, their gloomy belief in the agency of 
 evil spirits, their literal interpretation of the 
 Scriptures, that the Devil actually went " roam 
 ing about, seeking whom he could devour," 
 joined with the ignorance of the age of the 
 great laws of the physical universe, all con 
 spired to throw a veil of mystery over the most 
 simple appearances of nature, and to agitate the 
 whole community with the report of signs and 
 wonders and dark portents of calamity. May it 
 not be mentioned as an excuse for our fathers, 
 at least a palliation of the wrong, that, in their 
 persecution of the Quakers, they looked upon 
 these appearances of nature, and upon the indi 
 cations of the invisible world that ever surround 
 
NAOMI. 357 
 
 us, and wrap us, as it were, in a garment of mys 
 tery, with timid and terror-stricken minds, and 
 believed that God demanded of them by these 
 signs the destruction of his enemies ? 
 
 The thoughts, as I have said before, of the as 
 sembled ministers were turned from the immedi 
 ate object of their meeting to these terrible signs 
 and wonders in the heavens, and such an accu 
 mulation of evidence for their truth was related, 
 that the most faithless among them, the very 
 Thomases of the company, believed and trembled 
 at the approach of the end of the world. The 
 day, they verily believed, was near, when the 
 heavens would shrivel up like a scroll, and the 
 earth be melted with fervent heat. Before they 
 resumed the subject of their meeting, they re 
 solved to recommend to all the churches a day 
 of public fasting and prayer. 
 
 After this they informed their newly arrived 
 brother of the subject of their present confer 
 ence. At the mention of Naomi s imprisonment 
 and the heavy suspicions she lay under, his pale 
 countenance flushed to the deepest crimson, and, 
 as that passed away, there was left an ashy pale 
 ness. For a few moments his emotion prevent 
 ed him from replying. At last he said, " This 
 is a case beset with so many perplexities, envi 
 roned with difficulties so likely in either result 
 
358 NAOMI. 
 
 to present fearful consequences, that I do not 
 mistake, brethren, I believe, in supposing that 
 you would gladly have it entirely withdrawn 
 from your decision. 7 He looked round to see 
 if any one had penetrated his meaning. There 
 was a slight smile upon the countenances of one 
 or two of the younger ministers ; but with those 
 who had forgotten their youthful days and feel 
 ings, there was no rose-colored dawn upon their 
 minds to intimate that their young brother had 
 traversed the frozen, icy region between Con 
 necticut River and the Bay upon the wings of a 
 power so warm at his heart that he felt no out 
 ward cold. 
 
 It was difficult for him to proceed. He there 
 fore merely asked permission to be admitted to 
 see Miss Worthington in her prison, as he was 
 the bearer of a letter and messages from New 
 Haven. 
 
 " To-morrow he should be introduced to the 
 prisoner." 
 
 " This evening," he said, and his pale cheek 
 burned with a deep spot of red, and his lips 
 trembled, " this very evening it was indis 
 pensable that he should deliver his message ; for, 
 possibly, he might set out on his return to-mor 
 row morning." 
 
 A magistrate present wrote an order for his 
 
NAOMI. 359 
 
 admittance to the prison. He received it in his 
 trembling hand, and even in that formal and 
 courteous age, scarcely a slight bow intimated 
 his retreat from the apartment. 
 
 His transit across the frozen streets between 
 Mr. Wilson s and the jail was so rapid, that 
 when he reached the prison he was so complete 
 ly out of breath that he paused to recover his 
 strength, as well as to collect his thoughts, be 
 fore he knocked. It is, I believe, a well-known 
 fact, that when the feelings of the ascetic and 
 self-denying are aroused, when formal and com 
 pelled restraint is thrown off, they are more 
 keen and impetuous in the pursuit of their ob 
 jects, their desires are kindled to an intenser 
 flame, than with those whose passions have been 
 kept even by a moderation in indulgence, and a 
 temperate use of the blessings which God per 
 mits to all his children. 
 
 The knock upon the prison door was several 
 times repeated before the jailer appeared, and 
 when he did appear he gruffly refused him en 
 trance at that hour of the evening. Mr. Burton 
 presented his order. The jailer still denied that 
 it was for immediate admittance. It was past 
 eight o clock, and his prisoner had probably re 
 tired for the night. Mr. Burton produced the 
 small sum of money his purse contained. The 
 
360 NAOMI. 
 
 jailer repelled it indignantly, a Boston Puritan 
 jailer accept a bribe ! and still he held the 
 door in his face. The poor pleader at the door 
 had no other resource than to return to the house 
 of Mr. Wilson for a more explicit order. 
 
 Upon his return, his slower steps recalled him 
 to a sense of the rashness of his proceedings. 
 How could he expect to storm the prison and 
 carry off the lady, whether she would or not ! 
 As he reflected, he found his real object was to 
 save Naomi ; to rescue her from a formal trial, 
 and to leave the rest to the future. He found 
 that, without the aid and concurrence of some 
 other, even should Naomi consent, he had no 
 means of taking her away, for the temper of the 
 jailer forbade him to hope for any aid from him. 
 When he reached Mr. Wilson s door, he found 
 the ministers had broken up their conference, and 
 were wrapping themselves warm previously to 
 their departure. The reverend gentleman was 
 left alone in his solitary house, and was just re 
 tiring to his still more solitary bedroom. A hint 
 had been given the lonely widower of the real 
 cause of the impetuosity and agitation of his 
 young brother, and, feeling himself so doubly be 
 reaved by the loss of all domestic ties, he was pre 
 pared to sympathize with him, and, opening again 
 the glowing logs on the hearth of his study, he sat 
 
NAOMI. 361 
 
 down to listen. The young enthusiast entreated 
 him to think of the odium that would be thrown 
 upon the ministers if they impelled the court to 
 severe measures. The people were becoming 
 weary of persecution, and, in the case of Naomi, 
 in her youth and sex " there was a speechless 
 dialect that moved them to compassion." 
 
 Mr. Wilson said, that, on the contrary, public 
 opinion was never so bitter as now against the 
 cursed sect of Quakers ; witness the crowded 
 prisons, and the eagerness to seize every one 
 aiding and abetting them, the whippings, the 
 scourgings, and, only last June, the scaffold and 
 the halter. In his own heart there was a still, 
 small voice pleading for Naomi ; he thought, too, 
 that many of his brethren would willingly wash 
 their hands of the whole transaction, although 
 others believed it was sent by Providence just at 
 this moment, thrown exactly in their way, to try 
 their hearts and to prove their zeal. 
 
 Conceding so much, the other, like a drown 
 ing man, caught at the straw. How easy it 
 would be, he said, for him alone, with only the 
 connivance of the jailer, such connivance as 
 was used in the case of Mary Dyer, when she 
 
 escaped the first time and that very night 
 
 Naomi might be free, released secretly from the 
 prison, and He paused. 
 
362 NAOMI. 
 
 The aged widower could only smile at the 
 confidence of youth and passion ; the smile was 
 followed by a sigh ; he remembered his own 
 youth, and how hard it had been, and how often 
 he had pleaded in vain, even to his wedded wife, 
 to accompany him in all peace and security 
 across the Atlantic. He was touched by the 
 pleading, and moved by the confident assurance 
 of success of his young brother, and promised 
 the very next day to collect the opinions of his 
 brethren. If they were in favor of conniving at 
 the escape of Naomi, and thus cutting the knot 
 of doubt, he would aid and abet his young 
 friend in his private plan of being the chosen 
 instrument ; but and Mr. Wilson hinted a 
 doubt that Naomi herself might object to that 
 mode of release ; and while he was drawing on 
 his overcoat and tying his moccasons, he asked, 
 " Do you really expect a reward for this chiv 
 alrous knight-errantry, or is it all a pure, disin 
 terested service ? " 
 
 Mr. Burton answered with the proverb, 
 " Faint heart never won fair lady." 
 
 " Yes," said Mr. Wilson ; " but I will give 
 you another proverb, in answer to yours, not so 
 delicate, perhaps : It is easy to lead a horse to 
 water, but the whole universe cannot make him 
 drink. " 
 
NAOMI. 363 
 
 Mr. Burton smiled a sort of incredulous smile, 
 and the reverend old gentleman thought within 
 himself, " Would to heaven that she could be 
 induced to accept marriage instead of martyr 
 dom, a husband instead of a halter ! A weight 
 of a thousand fears would be lifted from my 
 heart." And he hastened with the alacrity of 
 youth across the frozen streets to the prison 
 door, where he instantly obtained admittance for 
 his young clerical brother. 
 
 It must be recollected, such was the influ 
 ence of the ministers and the elders of the 
 church, that they doubted not their power to 
 withdraw Naomi from the civil tribunal ; and as 
 every member of the court was also a member 
 of the church, it would only have been entering 
 a refusal to prosecute the case farther. 
 
CHAPTER XXVII. 
 
 " Sees distant plains of Eden gleam, 
 And does not dream it is a dream." 
 
 NAOMI sat in her solitary prison ; by the neg 
 lect of the jailer s wife, no light had been brought 
 to her room.. The strongest and most hopeful 
 spirits are subdued by long-continued solitude. 
 Was it strange that the thought was forced upon 
 her that she might be of little value, even for 
 gotten, in the circle that she had indeed blessed 
 by her presence ? By degrees the pinings of a 
 sad and doubtful spirit were added to the utter 
 loneliness of her heart. She was suffering under 
 the most depressing of all anxieties, doubt, 
 doubt whether, in the sacrifices she had made, 
 the spirit that had influenced her had been the 
 spirit of truth. " Was it not a lying spirit," she 
 asked herself, " that bade me sacrifice myself, 
 that now bids me suffer for the truth ? Is my 
 truth better than another s? Could I not have 
 dwelt within myself, and outwardly have been 
 theirs ? " This was not a question implying hy 
 pocrisy, for every reflecting person leads a double 
 life, an inner and an outward existence. This 
 
NAOMI. 365 
 
 inner life that is hidden within the soul, the true 
 " life of God in the soul of man," it is the se 
 cret fountain in whose fulness the soul dwells, 
 and which feeds the aspiration that bids us reach 
 the true and the beautiful, that feeds, but can 
 not allay, our thirst for the holy and the perfect. 
 " Here," thought Naomi, " I might have dwelt, 
 with food that the world knew not of, and out 
 wardly have conformed to the requirements of 
 the church." 
 
 She sat leaning with crossed arms upon the 
 oaken table, and her hair, which had fallen from 
 the ribbon that confined its folds, concealed her 
 face. She soon felt the sophistry by which she 
 had tried to lay a flattering unction to her soul, 
 and, shaking off the despondency of the mo 
 ment, she was about to rise and call for her 
 light. 
 
 At this instant a taper shone into the room, 
 and the well-known paternal voice of Mr. Wil 
 son pronounced her name. She started at the 
 sound, rose, and, as her eye fell upon the gentle 
 man from New Haven, an expression of surprise 
 was succeeded by one of pain and sorrow that 
 passed over her countenance ; but, recovering 
 from her surprise, she greeted the Rev. Mr. Wil 
 son with humility, and held out her hand to Mr. 
 Burotn. Mr. Wilson said he had not come him- 
 
366 NAOMI. 
 
 self with spiritual instruction nor admonition, 
 but to introduce one who doubtless came rich in 
 spiritual gifts suited to Naomi s afflicted state, 
 and ready to open to her all the treasures of di 
 vine truth, and to prepare her mind by devout 
 supplication for the trial that awaited her. He 
 would therefore take leave, giving her only his 
 blessing. 
 
 Naomi cast a beseeching look at her pastor, 
 entreating him to remain ; but he heeded her 
 not, and left the narrow apartment, now, in 
 deed, far too narrow to the forlorn Naomi. 
 
 The suitor from Connecticut was made up of 
 the stiffest, sternest elements of orthodoxy, to 
 which he had added the asceticism of a solitary 
 and studious life. He certainly had perceptions 
 of beauty and loveliness to be touched so deeply 
 by Naomi as to bring him over the icy hills, in 
 the severities of winter, in order to secure her to 
 himself. But, as I have said before, he felt an 
 intolerable restlessness after she had departed ; 
 his studies ceased to interest him ; his books ap 
 peared to him to be in an unknown tongue ; in 
 deed, every language was now dead to him but 
 the language of love. 
 
 Naomi had perceived that he hovered around 
 her in New Haven, but she scarcely thought she 
 had made an impression that would last upon 
 
NAOMI. 367 
 
 one so immersed in spiritual and metaphysical 
 existence. She knew not the intensity of feel 
 ing, which, when the passions are aroused, takes 
 possession of the unnaturally self-denying and 
 ascetic, overthrowing the reason and leading to 
 all the delusions of insanity. The moment Na 
 omi cast her eyes upon him, she perceived the 
 object of his visit, and she felt a cold shiver run 
 through her frame. 
 
 The natural feelings of man are ever at war 
 with the Calvinistic theology. In this case, im 
 pelled by the impetuosity of his feelings, Mr. 
 Burton would have loved Naomi, if she had been 
 that impossibility to conceive of in woman, an 
 unbeliever. There was a pause when the Rev. 
 Mr. Wilson shut the door. Mr. Burton seemed 
 unable to introduce the object of his visit ; but, 
 true to his sect, he broke the silence by a ques 
 tion which to another would have appeared very 
 foreign to what filled his soul and pressed upon 
 his lips, but in his mind had a close connection 
 with it ; he asked Naomi if she had ever expe 
 rienced religion ; in other words, if she had been 
 converted. 
 
 Depressed and annoyed as Naomi felt, she 
 could not restrain a smile j but she replied, 
 " As you are neither my pastor nor spiritual ad 
 viser, I can scarcely think what right you have 
 to ask such a question." 
 
368 NAOMI. 
 
 Mr. Burton went on to tell her that to him 
 it was the most momentous of all questions, as 
 it was the turning-point with him, it being im 
 possible for him to think of connecting himself 
 with one to whose heart religion was a stranger, 
 however amiable and lovely in natural gifts. 
 Meek as Naomi was, this manner of addressing 
 her appeared so ridiculously presumptuous, that, 
 without even deigning to look at her suitor, 
 she answered, that by no possibility, whether 
 converted or not converted, could such a circum 
 stance occur as his connection with her ; and she 
 rose, as though she desired he would take his 
 leave. 
 
 Not a conception of the awkwardness of his 
 proceeding had dawned upon the mind of Mr. 
 Burton ; but he saw, by the cold and repelling 
 expression of Naomi s countenance, that he was 
 not making immediate progress towards his object, 
 and he instantly threw off the sectarian and the 
 Calvinist, and, like a man, came to the point. 
 " I am come," he said, " to save you. Your life 
 is in danger. There is but one way. No one 
 here can interfere to save you without placing 
 his own life in jeopardy. I am a stranger, not 
 amenable to these laws, and I have the means 
 and the power, would you but give me the right. 
 A sloop is in the stream, waiting only for a wind 
 
NAOMI. 369 
 
 to sail for New York and New Haven. This 
 very night I can place you in safety on board 
 that vessel." 
 
 He paused ; but he saw no relenting in Nao 
 mi s calm, cold expression. 
 
 " Are you aware," he continued, " that here 
 you meet certain death ? I have been convers 
 ing with your enemies, and there is no relent 
 ing in their determination to proceed against you 
 with the utmost rigor of the law, expressly made 
 for those who aid and abet the Quakers." 
 
 Naomi said she was not conscious of having 
 any enemies in Boston; besides, he was trying 
 to frighten her ; for the punishment of death had 
 only been inflicted upon those who were them 
 selves Quakers, never for aiding and comforting 
 them. 
 
 " Ah ! but a scourging and a boring of the 
 tongue," he said, "are little short of death." 
 
 Naomi shuddered. She thought within her 
 self she would much rather encounter the latter 
 than endure the former. 
 
 " This very night," continued her suitor, "you 
 will be in safety. With the morning breeze 
 for the western sky promises a fair day we 
 should be far on our way, even before the jailer 
 opens his eyes." 
 
 Naomi had stood, unable to speak, as much 
 24 
 
370 
 
 NAOMI. 
 
 from surprise as from the rapidity and stream of his 
 eloquence ; but at these last words, thus identify 
 ing themselves and their fortunes as though they 
 were already one, she laid her hand upon his 
 arm, and compelled him to pause. He looked at 
 her then, and the cold and unmoved expression 
 of her features checked him at once, and seemed 
 to lay an icy hand upon his heart. 
 
 "I will not pretend to misunderstand you," 
 she said. " I doubt not your ability to rescue 
 me from this great danger, in which my life 
 stands perilled, and I thank you with the deepest 
 gratitude of my heart ; but even if the door of 
 my prison stood open, and, instead of mystery, 
 and darkness, and night, the path before me lay 
 in the light of day and led to my father s house, 
 I could not walk it hand in hand with you. I 
 thank you from my deepest soul, and shall ever 
 pray for you." She turned away, and sat down 
 at the most distant part of the room. 
 
 Mr. Burton would not be thus repelled. Adopt 
 ing Naomi s calmness and cold tone, " Let me 
 only reprieve you, deliver you from this pris- 
 "on," he said, "and I will leave the future to 
 your generosity. I will leave you free ; you 
 shall be restrained by no implied concession, 
 bound by no sense of obligation. In trusting 
 yourself to me, I will merely place you in 
 safety." 
 
NAOMI. 371 
 
 Naomi was touched by this generosity ; the 
 tears started from her eyes. Her lover caught 
 at the softened expression of her countenance ; 
 hope sprang up when he saw her tears, and he 
 fell upon his knees. Yes, the stern ascetic 
 he who hitherto had " scarce confessed that his 
 blood flowed, or that his appetite was more for 
 bread than stone," who had never knelt but to 
 God, and that in the deepest privacy of his 
 closet knelt to that young girl, a prisoner, un- 
 renewed and unconverted, adorned only with the 
 beauty of simple truth, the stern man and the 
 Calvinist bent his knee, and hot tears started 
 from his eyes, and fell upon Naomi s hand. 
 There is something terrible in seeing a stern 
 man weep. Such tears are the scanty drops that 
 trickle from the cavern of the rock, and are pet 
 rified into the costly diamond. Naomi covered 
 her face with one hand, and she did not with 
 draw the other from his clasp. " In either case," 
 she said, " I could not so requite such manly, 
 such noble generosity. I could not so injure, so 
 wrong, your generous character, as to consent 
 to go with you as your heart craves, and leave 
 my own here, here, around this prison, where it 
 would linger and bleed, and regret and sorrow 
 would be your only companions. The life that 
 you had given me would be a worthless and 
 
372 NAOMI. 
 
 empty gift to you." Seeing him about to speak, 
 she added, "If my path was from my father s 
 house, instead of a prison, and no stigma of 
 shame and disgrace rested upon the future, that 
 future must be far from yours." 
 
 The manner of Naomi was so firm, so calm, 
 so gentle, and yet so decided, that it left not a 
 ray of hope in the mind of her suitor. He ap 
 proached the door, but turned, and said, "I 
 leave you, a broken-hearted man ; but blame not 
 yourself." And so he appeared when, the next 
 day, he mounted his horse for his journey to his 
 home. The path that lay before him, frozen, 
 icy, and covered with clouds, was like the path 
 of his life. Naomi for a moment burst upon it, 
 like a sunbeam of joy, and it seemed green with 
 hope and rich in blossoms. Now, winter had 
 wrapped it again in its mantle, and the sky had 
 shut over heavy and black with the cloud of dis 
 appointment. 
 
 Late as it was, the Rev. Mr. Wilson was not 
 yet allowed to seek his pillow of repose. I have 
 already mentioned that Herbert, restless and 
 worn by the horrible state of suspense hanging 
 over the fate of Naomi, hovered like a tormented 
 spirit round the narrow prison that inclosed all 
 for which his heart throbbed in agony or beat in 
 peace. This very evening he had been waiting, 
 
NAOMI. 373 
 
 alarmed and anxious because no taper glimmered 
 as usual from the little window. He had ap 
 proached the threshold a hundred times, and 
 listened to catch the sounds within. He heard 
 only the noisy clamors and violent declamation 
 of those Quakers who believed themselves at 
 that moment under the influence of the spirit. 
 He had observed the approach of the gentleman 
 who was refused admittance, and his return after 
 wards with the Rev. Mr. Wilson, his admit 
 tance alone to the prison of Naomi. The pangs 
 of jealousy were now added to the pangs of de 
 spairing love. Impelled by an irresistible im 
 pulse, when he saw Mr. Wilson return to his 
 home, he hastened after him, and, before he could 
 close the door, stepped between them and stood 
 before him. The reverend gentleman was star 
 tled, but instantly recognized the young student 
 who had so distinguished himself at the Com 
 mencement, but had also fallen under some de 
 gree of censure for his fearless independence of 
 opinion. He kindly extended his hand, and 
 drew him into his study. 
 
 The heart of Herbert throbbed wildly in his 
 breast ; he scarcely knew what excuse to make 
 for his intrusion. This confusion gave a timidi 
 ty to his manner that added to the ingenuous 
 ness of his appearance. He scarcely lifted that 
 
374 NAOMI. 
 
 piercing eye, which was hidden beneath the cast- 
 down eyelid. The rich color of his cheek faded, 
 and he was pale as ashes. Mr. Wilson pointed 
 to a chair, and said, kindly, " You come, like 
 Nicodemus, in the night, but not, I trust, upon 
 an errand of which the day need be ashamed." 
 
 Herbert had now recovered his self-possession. 
 " I came," he said, " to ask you to do for me the 
 same favor that I believe you have done for 
 others, permit me to visit the prisoners in 
 yonder jail." 
 
 " You have a relation among them ? " said Mr. 
 Wilson. 
 
 Herbert hesitated. He was strongly tempted 
 to say that Naomi was his sister, although he 
 thanked God at the very moment that she was 
 not his sister. He hesitated, and Mr. Wilson 
 kindly and by degrees drew from the ingenuous 
 young man the relation in which he stood to 
 Naomi. 
 
 Herbert entertained an erroneous idea, that, as 
 Naomi had never avowed any sentiment contrary 
 to the doctrines of the church, she was not 
 amenable to that body on account of the part 
 she had taken in the flight of Margaret ; and, as 
 that was an offence which would plead for her 
 in every humane heart when the circumstances 
 were known, she would not suffer severely from 
 the civil tribunal. 
 
NAOMI. 375 
 
 Mr. Wilson told him, that, on the contrary, 
 Naomi s sentiments were well known. She had 
 taken no pains, he said, to conceal them, al 
 though she had never brought them forward of 
 fensively ; but there was not the least doubt that 
 she held the distinguishing tenet of that accursed 
 sect, the Quakers, that is, " the sensible and 
 constant direction of the spirit of God in man." 
 
 Herbert said, although in a low voice, that he 
 saw no heresy in that. 
 
 Mr. Wilson looked at him with surprise ; he 
 had no wish to detect new heretics, and he 
 let it pass. " But," he continued, " even with 
 out the knowledge we possess of Miss Worthing- 
 ton s heretical opinions, she is liable to the cen 
 sure of the church which is bound to keep 
 watch and ward over every one of its members 
 for her neglect of her religious duties." 
 
 " How is that ? " asked Herbert. 
 
 " We have sufficient evidence," said the rev 
 erend gentleman, " that she absents herself from 
 the family prayers of her step-father; that the 
 Sabbath, especially the afternoon of the Sab 
 bath, is not reverently observed by her ; that 
 she often walks out upon the western side of 
 Beacon Hill before sunset on the Sabbath day, 
 thus setting an example of irreverence to those 
 who are eager to throw off the restraints of 
 holy time." 
 
376 NAOMI. 
 
 "Well," said Herbert; "but these are not of 
 fences to entail any thing but a slight admo 
 nition." 
 
 "Ah, my dear young friend! you know lit 
 tle of the spirit of the times ; banishment from 
 the country is the lightest penalty that would 
 follow an examination." And Mr. Wilson did 
 not attempt to disguise from Herbert that Nao 
 mi s best hopes were in an escape from prison. 
 Together they concerted a plan, which it de 
 pended on her consent alone to render practica 
 ble ; and Herbert went home that night, more 
 soothed and hopeful than he had been since the 
 night he forded the river by her side. 
 
CHAPTER XXVIII. 
 
 "It may be believed, that in the world behind the stars, 
 where they must certainly have their own peculiar notions 
 upon devotion, even the involuntary folding of the hands may 
 be valued as a prayer ; and many warm hand-pressures and 
 lip-pressures, yes, many curses even, may be there received as 
 ejaculatory prayers ; while, at the same time, the great church- 
 illuminating prayers may be there regarded as mere 
 
 curses." JEAN PAUL. 
 
 IT was the pious custom of our fathers, in all 
 domestic calamities, to call upon the ministers to 
 hold a day of fasting and prayer at the house of 
 the afflicted. They were so far private, that only 
 relatives and intimate friends were invited to 
 take part in the devotional exercises. Mr. Alder- 
 sey had appointed a day for such a fast, and in 
 vited the ministers and elders to attend. Such 
 occasions were not strictly held without a mor 
 sel of food ; no dinner was cooked, but creature 
 comforts and the mere sustenance of the phys 
 ical part were not wholly neglected. They were 
 somewhat like the funerals that were held at the 
 houses of the deceased, involving great expense, 
 and the preparation for them was sometimes ex 
 tremely costly. Mr. Aldersey would be behind 
 
378 
 
 NAOMI. 
 
 no one in hospitality, and Faith had been busied 
 several days, during which time the oven had 
 never cooled in making and baking cakes for the 
 fast. To these were added the good wine and 
 ale from the cellar, and in the intervals of devo 
 tion they were not sparingly consumed. 
 
 Let me not be suspected of the design of 
 throwing the slightest shade of ridicule or cen 
 sure upon the sincere piety of our fathers ; there 
 were among them the purest and most devout 
 spirits, as no doubt there were, as there have 
 been in every age of the church, hypocrites and 
 formalists. Among those who came that day to 
 fast and pray were true and devout hearts, 
 touched with real sorrow ; no doubt there were 
 others, who could not live upon merely spiritual 
 food, to whom the creature comforts were the 
 truest means of improvement. 
 
 Faith, who, like all sincere but partially in 
 structed souls in whom reverence is strongly de 
 veloped, trusted most devoutly and entirely in 
 the efficacy of the prayers offered that day. Her 
 imagination had never suggested to her that the 
 New England church was not perfect in its faith 
 and in its discipline. Yet in this particular case, 
 where she had a thousand times penetrated to 
 the bottom of the heart of Naomi, and seen its 
 humble self-abnegation, its transparent purity, 
 
NAOMI. 379 
 
 and now heard these self-congratulatory prayers, 
 these ministers thanking God that they were not 
 as others, that they fasted and prayed, that they 
 were not like the poor, suspected heretic, for 
 whom they were met to pray, she could not 
 but feel and believe that Naomi s prayer, breathed 
 silently in her humble prison, would be as effica 
 cious for the church as those of the church for 
 her ; that they would mount upon the white 
 wings of angels, and find their way to the 
 throne of God. 
 
 In the intervals between reading the Scriptures 
 and the prayers, refreshments were handed round. 
 The family tailor, a thin and spare man, had 
 already filled his capacious pockets with the 
 cakes that had several times been offered, when 
 an aged woman, who was sometimes hired as a 
 nurse in the family, and had been invited to the 
 fast, and was sitting near, said to him, " Well, 
 you will have a heavy miss of it if the young 
 girl is hung, as they say she will be." 
 
 "Not so much as you think," said the other; 
 " her gowns were so plain I made nothing upon 
 them ; it is the furbelows and flounces that put 
 the money in our pockets ; they take time ; a 
 plain gown, such as Miss Naomi wears, may be 
 made in a day, but the flouncing and herringbon- 
 ing take a man a week. Ah, I wish you could 
 
380 NAOMI. 
 
 see a real court dress, with the ruffs and the 
 cuffs, and the spangles and pearls, the feathers 
 and furbelows, the flounces and flowers, the 
 whalebone and herringbone ! Why, I have made 
 dresses in England, for the court ladies, that 
 would stand alone, and almost go alone, and cost, 
 when they were finished, more than a hundred 
 pounds." 
 
 " You ! " said the old woman, looking at him 
 with an incredulous smile and shake of her 
 head. 
 
 " Yes, indeed," said the tailor ; " I made a 
 dress for Mistress Gwynne, so covered with pearls 
 and diamonds that they said she never put it on 
 without losing two or three hundred pounds in 
 the pearls she dropped from it." 
 
 " You ought to have lost your ears," said the 
 nurse, " for putting them on so slightly that 
 they would fall off when she moved." 
 
 " Ah ! " said the tailor with a sly wink, " you 
 do n t understand ; I knew the court ladies were 
 rolling in riches ; why, if you will believe it, 
 when their lap-dogs are sick they give them 
 powders of pounded diamonds ; - well, as they 
 are always followed by poor wretches that have 
 not even bread to put in their mouths, I meant 
 the pearls should be dropped, so that these poor 
 wretches might find them ; then, you know, they 
 were honestly theirs." 
 
NAOMI. 381 
 
 The old lady nurse shook her head ; she was 
 deeply considering whether this mode of trans 
 ferring the property of the rich to the poor and 
 needy was really honest. 
 
 They were now hushed into silence ; one of 
 the elders had again opened the Bible, and was 
 beginning to exhort ; this was followed by 
 prayer. As soon as it was over the tailor began 
 upon his favorite subject, addressing himself to 
 the old woman. " Ah, I wish you could see 
 the wedding dresses I have made for the court 
 ladies ! 
 
 " I have hearn say," said the old woman, 
 " that the court ladies do n t mind being mar 
 ried. But if that is what you want, you will 
 have enough of that, soon enough, too. The 
 little one, I hear, is going to be married, as soon 
 as they get over the other thing. Poor lamb ! " 
 
 " Married ? to whom ? " asked the tailor. 
 
 " Well, they do say, to the young man that 
 saved her life when they were travelling. She 
 fell into a river somewhere ; her horse threw her, 
 they say, and he plunged in and saved her life. 
 Well, he, poor man, he was blind, he never 
 thought of such a thing ; but the little Ruth, 
 poor thing, she pined and pined (you may see 
 how pale she is), and at last her father, stiff as 
 he sits there, never looking but straight before 
 
382 NAOMI. 
 
 him, he found it out ; and as the young man had 
 no notion that way, why, they say he promised 
 him all Miss Ome s money into the bargain, if 
 things went bad with her, poor lamb ! " 
 
 The tailor declared he did not believe one 
 word of all this, and the old woman continued 
 her gossip ; she did not approve of these out-of- 
 door deaths, hanging, &c. people should die in 
 their beds, of a good long illness, and be well 
 nursed and kept comfortable ; there was no 
 comfort in dangling like Mary Dyer in the open 
 air ; and, poor angel ! she would get no good 
 nursing." 
 
 While this gossip was going on in one room, 
 poor Sambo was attacked in another. " So," 
 said one of the helpers, " these doings would 
 not suit the young lady up yonder ; they say she 
 could not even say the Lord s prayer ; she was 
 always stopped in the midst by the Devil." 
 
 Sambo declared it was all a lie. 
 
 " But she never came to family prayers," said 
 the other. 
 
 " O, yes ; Miss Omai always come to prayers." 
 Sambo was most blind, he said of himself; he 
 did not see her, but he " always hear Miss Omai s 
 silk gown rattle when she came in." 
 
 " Well, but, Sambo, you are deaf," said the 
 other. 
 
NAOMI. 383 
 
 " Only deaf one ear," said Sambo : " ear next 
 to massa deaf, when he make a long prayer, but 
 t other ear hear Miss Omai s silk gown, and know 
 Miss Omai s silk gown come to prayers." 
 
 "Well," persisted the other, "but Miss Naomi 
 cannot read the Bible ; for they say that when 
 ever she comes to any holy words, such as God 
 or the Saviour, the Devil stops her, she can t 
 pronounce them." 
 
 Sambo s patience was now exhausted. He 
 was pale with anger. It was a lie, a wicked 
 lie. Miss Omai read the Bible better than Parson 
 Wilson ever read it in the pulpit ; beside that, she 
 had taught him to read it. Nobody ever taught 
 him to read, he said, till Miss Omai came all the 
 way from England ; and now he could read the 
 Bible as well as any of them. 
 
 It was true that Naomi had endeavoured to 
 teach Sambo the alphabet, by making use of the 
 capital letters in the Bible. Bibles were then 
 printed in black letter, and she had found it a 
 hopeless task to make him distinguish the differ 
 ent forms of the capital letters. 
 
 And Naomi, how was it with her, in her 
 dreary prison, upon this day, when there were 
 solemn fast and festival in her father s house, of 
 which she was the cause and the object ? It was 
 the only day since her imprisonment that Faith 
 
384 
 
 NAOMI. 
 
 had not cheered, at least for a brief half-hour, 
 the solitude of her narrow cell. This absence, 
 and, moreover, the cause of the absence, had 
 filled her with sad misgivings, clouded the seren 
 ity of her mind, and prevented her from reading 
 her own heart aright. Naomi was never self- 
 confident ; an excess of humility sometimes rob 
 bed her of her due self-reliance ; they had met 
 to pray for her, but to pray for her as an erring 
 and guilty creature, who had wilfully wandered 
 from the true path ; and now, in the solitude of 
 her prison, as she looked out upon the leaden- 
 colored sky and the dark, turbulent waves of the 
 bay, where no gleam of light penetrated be 
 tween the horizon and the overhanging clouds, 
 and then looked down upon the snow-covered 
 roofs of the little town, under which roofs she 
 fancied were now beating hundreds of happy 
 hearts, the thought pressed sorely upon her, 
 Had she not been presumptuous ? were they not 
 the vain imaginings of an ambitious spirit, rather 
 than the convictions of truth and reason, that 
 had led her here? She was thinking only of 
 her mental differences with the church, and for 
 got the noble action for which she was a pris 
 oner. As she leaned upon her little window, 
 and looked out upon the dreary landscape of 
 winter, she recalled the lovely green slopes of 
 
NAOMI. 385 
 
 England, the peace and security of her own life 
 there. Had she spoken now, in this hour of de 
 spondency, it would have been in the words of 
 her namesake of old, " Call me not Naomi, call 
 me Mara ; seeing the Lord hath testified against 
 me, and the Almighty hath afflicted me." 
 
 25 
 

 CHAPTER XXIX. 
 
 " Law, take thy victim. May she find the mercy 
 In yon mild heaven which this hard world denies her ! " 
 
 THE day appointed for the trial of the prison 
 ers in the Boston jail dawned cloudy and cold ; 
 a leaden-colored sky hung darkly over the town, 
 and occasional showers of fine snow added a 
 deeper chill to the air. The prisoners were con 
 ducted to the bar by constables, preceded by 
 the sound of beaten drums, and guarded by a 
 company of soldiers. 
 
 The Quakers, men and women, entered the 
 court clothed in sackcloth, the men keeping their 
 hats firmly on, the women uncovered, except 
 with their long hair thickly strewn with ashes. 
 This new kind of powdering gave to their feat 
 ures a sharp and deathlike aspect. The appear 
 ance of Naomi presented a strange contrast to the 
 wild and witch-like appearance of these women. 
 The first glance would have told the most care 
 less observer that there could be nothing in com 
 mon between them, and only some strange and 
 unexplained destiny could have brought them 
 in company to the same criminal bar. 
 
NAOMI. 387 
 
 Naomi was this day paler than usual, and her 
 hair, which until her imprisonment she had worn 
 curled, . according to the prevailing fashion, was 
 combed plainly around her temples, and con 
 fined in a knot at the back, giving to her head 
 a purely Grecian form. The extreme coldness 
 of the day obliged her to wrap herself in a cloak 
 of crimson broadcloth, open at the throat, and 
 lined with a dark sable fur ; the collar was 
 thrown a little back, and the white throat con 
 trasted with the dark fur of the lining. Naomi 
 was also ordered to take her place with the 
 others at the bar ; but the offence for which she 
 was arraigned, that of assisting a conolemned 
 Quaker to escape from justice, was totally dif 
 ferent from that of being a Quaker. 
 
 As soon as Naomi was seated, there was a rush 
 of the young gentlemen, the elite of the times, 
 the young Puritan beaux, to a part of the room 
 where they could gaze at and mark every ex 
 pression, every change of her countenance, her 
 dress, her air, her bearing ; and this constant 
 surveillance caused not a small part of the an 
 noyance she suffered during her trial. 
 
 She was permitted to take a seat, guarded, 
 however, by a constable, and to await her trial 
 till the next day. Ruth, who had been waiting 
 in a distant part of the hall, rushed forward, and 
 
388 
 
 NAOMI. 
 
 placed herself at the side of her sister. Mr. 
 Aldersey who had throughout assumed the ap 
 pearance of complete impartiality, and who con 
 tinually said to himself, " If ye hate not father 
 and mother, son and daughter, for my sake, ye 
 are none of mine " sat with the Assistants j and 
 the excellent Faith being among the witnesses, 
 Naomi was deprived of the comforting presence 
 of that faithful friend. 
 
 The trial of these Quakers would have been 
 soon completed ; they denied nothing, they glo 
 ried in the offences for which they were placed at 
 that bar ; but at the moment they were about 
 being dismissed, Wenlock Christison, a banished 
 Quaker, suddenly entered the court, and took 
 his stand by the side of the other prisoners, 
 striking dismay into the minds of the magis 
 trates. 
 
 " Are you not the man that was banished on 
 pain of death ? " demanded the governor. 
 
 " Yes, I am." 
 
 " What do you here, then ? " 
 
 " I am come," was the answer, " to warn you 
 that you shed no more innocent blood ; for the 
 blood that you have shed cries to the Lord for 
 vengeance against you." 
 
 " We have a law," answered the governor, 
 " and by that law you are to die." 
 
NAOMI. 389 
 
 " Have you authority to make laws repugnant 
 to the laws of England ? " 
 
 "No." 
 
 " Then you are gone beyond your bounds. 
 There is no law in England to hang Quakers," 
 was the undaunted reply. 
 
 " But there is a law in England to hang 
 Jesuits." 
 
 " But I am no Jesuit ; and if you put me to 
 death, it is not in the name of a Jesuit, but of a 
 Quaker." 
 
 The judges turned slightly pale ; they had 
 committed an error ; the governor, however, add 
 ed, " You have broken our law, and by our 
 law you shall die ! " 
 
 " What do you gain by it ? " said Christison ; 
 " for the last man that you have put to death, 
 here are five come in his room. If you have 
 power to take my life, God can raise up the 
 same principle of life in ten of his servants, and 
 send them among you in my room, that you 
 may have torment upon torment ; for there is no 
 peace to the wicked, saith my God." 
 
 Notwithstanding the intrepidity of the man, 
 the j\iry immediately returned a verdict of 
 guilty against the voluntary victim.* 
 
 * Wenlock Christison afterwards accepted the clemency of 
 the court. Chandler s Criminal Trials. 
 
390 NAOMI. 
 
 This trial lasted but one day. All were sen 
 tenced to perpetual banishment ; some to stripes 
 and heavy fines. 
 
 The next day being the one appointed for the 
 trial of Naomi, the court was crowded at a very 
 early hour. There was the same impetuous cu 
 riosity of the young men to gain a view of the 
 prisoner, to whose numbers to-day were added 
 the young bachelors and undergraduates from 
 Cambridge. The trial of the Quakers, except 
 the sudden appearance of Wenlock Christison, 
 had excited very little general interest. They, 
 especially the women, were low and illiterate, 
 remarkable only for their violence, their power 
 of doing mischief, and a perseverance in their 
 thirst for martyrdom, which gave even to the 
 wildness of their doctrines the pledge of sincer 
 ity. But here was a young woman, belonging 
 to one of the distinguished families of the little 
 town, whose apparent offence, that for which 
 she stood at the bar, could be considered no 
 very heinous crime, and only a crime because it 
 was the violation of a recent stringent law. 
 Naomi herself had wished to plead guilty to the 
 charge of assisting Margaret, a condemned Qua 
 ker, to escape, and to take the consequences ; but 
 the court by no means desired such an issue as 
 that. As I have said before, the report had gone 
 
NAOMI. 391 
 
 abroad, and was every day strengthening, that 
 Naomi entertained the same opinions as the 
 Quakers themselves ; that in her secret soul she 
 was a Quaker, and moreover a contemner of 
 the church and the ministers. 
 
 The ministers, as well as the magistrates, had, 
 perhaps unconsciously to themselves, allowed a 
 strong prejudice to grow up in their hearts 
 against this humble girl. She had dared to 
 think for herself, and to differ from those who 
 were alone the true interpreters of the meaning 
 of the Bible, the true ministers of the only true 
 church. If the times and the men are consid 
 ered, this will appear in them neither strange nor 
 arrogant. They were the men of the day, the 
 fanatics of the hour, and they resembled the 
 fanatics of every age. They sincerely thought 
 that, by torturing heresy, they were honoring 
 truth, by putting down the heretics, they were 
 exalting the saints. 
 
 As Naomi was returning to her prison, the 
 evening before, under the charge of the consta 
 ble, a small scrap of paper was thrust secretly 
 into her hand by a young woman, who was hur 
 riedly passing at the moment by her side. The 
 cloudy obscurity of the afternoon prevented 
 even the constable that walked at her side from 
 observing it. As soon as she could unfold it, in 
 
392 NAOMI. 
 
 her prison, she trembled for joy, for she recog 
 nized the handwriting. It contained only these 
 few words. " Refuse to answer all questions, to 
 morrow, except those touching the offence for 
 which you are arraigned, that of assisting Mar 
 garet to escape." 
 
 As I have said before, the court was crowded 
 at an early hour. The dress and appearance of 
 Naomi were the same as on the previous day ; 
 but, as she was now alone at the bar, her un 
 protected, isolated youth touched many hearts. 
 The young men, who had crowded in as on the 
 day before, were ready to peril every thing to 
 save her. The opening prayer by the Rev. 
 John Norton was not such as would encourage 
 the favorable impression her appearance pro 
 duced. Its fervid eloquence, its denunciatory 
 violence, made the audience tremble even for the 
 safety of the church ; the ark of the Lord was 
 in danger ; and that pale, and humble, and del 
 icate woman, standing alone at the bar of the 
 criminal, was an enemy to the church, an abet 
 tor of wickedness, an agent and instrument of 
 Se-.tan for its destruction. 
 
 A momentary diversion was occasioned in the 
 court, by the debate whether Sambo should be 
 sworn and admitted as a witness. The court 
 objected to administering an oath to a person 
 
NAOMI. 393 
 
 who could not read. Sambo had been baptized, 
 and was a member of the Boston church ; but 
 as he did not know the letters of the alphabet, 
 the judges thought he would not understand the 
 obligations of an oath. 
 
 Sambo averred that he knew how to read, 
 that Miss Naomi, the prisoner at the bar, had 
 taught him to read. His ideas of reading were 
 like those of a little child, who, on the second 
 day of going to school, asked what she was to 
 learn that day, for that she had learned to read 
 the day before. 
 
 Upon Sambo s persisting in the opinion that 
 he could read, and to gratify his extreme anxiety 
 to become a witness, he was ordered to make 
 the trial in the open court. The Bible was pre 
 sented to him, open at one of the chapters of the 
 Book of Numbers. Sambo had learnt by heart, 
 with the assistance of Naomi, the Psalm begin 
 ning, " The Lord is my shepherd, I shall not 
 want " ; and he read it off with great fluency, 
 with the chapter of Numbers before his eyes. 
 This was sufficient for the court. The judge 
 declared Sambo could not be admitted as a 
 witness. 
 
 The most essential and important testimony to 
 the fact of Naomi s assisting a condemned Quak 
 er, Margaret, her nurse, to escape, was expected 
 
394 NAOMI. 
 
 from Herbert Walton ; but to all questions, put 
 in every form of ingenuity and craft, they could 
 only obtain the answer, that the horse was sad 
 dled and brought to Margaret, herself placed 
 thereon, and her path pointed out, from a senti 
 ment of pure humanity and a desire of his own 
 that she should escape. Neither by sign, nor 
 word, nor look, did he betray that he had ever 
 seen the prisoner at the bar before, or had had 
 the slightest communication with her. Naomi, 
 when questioned, told the truth, without impli 
 cating Herbert. She had furnished Margaret 
 with her own horse to escape, and she pleaded 
 the motive ; Margaret had been the old and 
 attached servant of her mother (and her eyes 
 filled with tears), the faithful nurse of her own 
 infancy, and she hoped that would excuse her 
 in every parent s heart, and would plead for her 
 in every other. 
 
 It is not necessary to enter into the particulars 
 of this trial. Every thing was proved against 
 Naomi ; for as Herbert s heart was the temple of 
 conscience, as well as the shrine of love, when 
 put upon oath it was proved that all he did was 
 at the order of Naomi. It was proved beyond a 
 doubt, that Naomi had visited a house where 
 Quakers held their meetings, and that she alone 
 had instigated and assisted the flight of Marga- 
 
NAOMI. 395 
 
 ret from the hands of justice. Not a word was 
 whispered of Margaret s having been sheltered 
 more than three months under the roof of Mr. 
 Aldersey. It was not the purpose of the court 
 to implicate so exemplary a church-member, so 
 zealous a detecter of heresy in others. Ah ! the 
 cross he had to bear was sufficiently heavy, 
 a step-daughter had brought under his roof- 
 tree the taint of heresy ; a relative, whose de 
 struction would throw into his hands some thou 
 sands of pounds, and spread over his character the 
 fresh gilding of a purer zeal for the church ! 
 
 Every thing, as I have said before, had been 
 proved against Naomi ; but they were offences 
 that pleaded for her in every benevolent heart. 
 As she stood there, in the sweetness of her 
 youth, in her unprotected orphanhood, a crim 
 inal only in the eyes of those whose minds 
 were bound with the iron chains of bigotry, an 
 angel to invisible spirits, if they hovered there, 
 the court perceived that a murmur of disappro 
 bation of their proceedings against her was ex 
 tending among the audience j every eye was 
 turned, with softened expression, towards Naomi, 
 and the younger portion of the assembly were 
 pressing with enthusiasm towards her. Sudden 
 ly, the judge seemed to awake, and put the 
 question, " Did she believe herself in a state of 
 grace?" - 
 
396 
 
 NAOMI. 
 
 Naomi was taken by surprise. She was too 
 humble, too truly self-conscious of infirmities, to 
 answer in the affirmative, and yet, as she was a 
 member of the church, to have answered in any 
 but an assured spirit, would have been to con 
 demn herself, in the view of those who held the 
 orthodox creed of the questioners, as an uncon 
 verted sinner. Suddenly the paper that had 
 been thrust into her hand occurred to her mem 
 ory. She breathed again, and answered, that 
 she humbly conceived she was not bound to 
 answer that question, as it was totally foreign to 
 the offence for which she stood arraigned at 
 their bar. 
 
 A whispered conference ran round the court ; 
 and she was asked, " Was she not amenable to 
 the church, a subject of its care, its admonition, 
 its discipline ? " 
 
 " Certainly," said Naomi ; " but she was not 
 conscious that she stood arraigned before the 
 spiritual court of the church." 
 
 " She did not at this moment," they answered ; 
 " but the court had decided, that, before pro 
 nouncing sentence against her, they would rec 
 ommend her to the examination, the admonition, 
 and discipline of the church." 
 
 At this announcement Naomi s courage failed, 
 and she became pale as death. She knew that 
 
NAOMI. 397 
 
 such an examination would be inexorable, and 
 that with a pure conscience she could make use 
 of no mental reservation, and could not es 
 cape the condemnation of her judges. A gulf 
 was suddenly opened before her, from which 
 there was no escape. The other offence, prompt 
 ed by gratitude and humanity, would be excused 
 by every benevolent heart, and if punished as a 
 violation of a recent law, could be punished only 
 very lightly ; but to think for herself upon great 
 questions, to dare to differ from her spiritual teach 
 ers, to dare to hold opinions at variance with the 
 only true church, was the unpardonable sin of 
 the age, stigmatized as blasphemy, a sin for 
 whose forgiveness the angels might plead in 
 vain. 
 
CHAPTER XXX. 
 
 " If love, a slender ray, 
 Chance through my bars to stray 
 
 And pierce to me, 
 My cell, no more a tomb, 
 Smiles in its caverned gloom, 
 As nature to the free." 
 
 As I have mentioned before, the place of Na 
 omi s confinement was a small upper chamber. 
 It received light only from a small window in 
 the pointed roof, that projected over and beyond 
 the walls of the under story, and gave her a 
 view of the whole of the street ascending to 
 wards Pemberton Hill, and descending on the 
 other side to the long wharf. How different the 
 aspect of the little town from that which it now 
 presents. Instead of long rows of gas, that give 
 to the streets the brilliancy of a summer s day, 
 the light only of a few feeble tapers within the 
 houses struggled through the architectural holes 
 in the tops of the window-shutters, where such 
 luxury as a shutter was permitted, and where 
 shutters were absent, the discolored rays pierced 
 the green diamond-shaped panes, throwing a 
 feeble and varying light upon the unpaved 
 
NAOMI. 399 
 
 streets. There had been since noon a light fall 
 of snow, that lay untrodden upon the ground, 
 which aided the moon, although concealed by 
 thick clouds, to give a partial illumination to the 
 streets. 
 
 As Naomi looked sadly from her window, she 
 saw the same patient watcher, pacing back 
 wards and forwards like a sentinel on duty, that 
 she had seen every evening since her imprison 
 ment. She had long since learnt who it was 
 that, like the mother bird, hovered around the 
 cradle of his hopes, there to live or die ; but the 
 newly fallen snow, together with the partial 
 light of the moonbeams, falling directly on the 
 person of the watcher, enabled her to see that 
 he was trying to attract her attention towards 
 himself. Cautiously she raised her window, 
 when a small pebble, aimed with great precision, 
 passed by her arm and fell upon the floor behind 
 her. A slip of paper was bound around the 
 stone containing only these words : " Open your 
 window to-morrow at the dawn of day." 
 
 Joy, pure joy, swelled her heart as she read 
 these words. She was watched over, and, O, 
 how intensely and devotedly guarded, by one 
 whom she felt it was happiness enough for her 
 to love ! Although all was dark, threatening, 
 and desolate without, in her future, there was 
 
400 NAOMI. 
 
 light in her heart, a buoyant joy that made 
 bonds and imprisonment seem only like the ten 
 drils of the vine, that bound her to some rough 
 support. 
 
 Naomi slept little that night. From her win 
 dow, just at the foot of her bed, she watched 
 the gradual withdrawal of the clouds, and the 
 opening rents where the blue sky shone through, 
 and the constellations, as star after star they 
 passed over and went down in the west, the long 
 winter s night, so cheerless to the wakeful pris 
 oner ! But those few words had spread beneath 
 her the soft couch of hope ; and as soon as she 
 saw the first roselight of dawn reflected upon 
 the snow-covered summit of Beacon Hill, she 
 rose softly and opened her window. She stood 
 but one minute admiring the varying color of 
 the light upon the snow-covered roofs of the 
 houses, when a pigeon, a perfectly white dove, 
 lighted upon her window-sill, fluttered his wings 
 a moment, so that Naomi saw a letter attached 
 beneath them, and then flew into the chamber 
 and rested upon the table. It seemed so strange 
 and wonderful a messenger, that Naomi trem 
 bled far more than the little flutterer before her 
 when she approached him to detach the letter. 
 The bird expected this, but as soon as he was 
 relieved of his letter, the window being still 
 
NAOMI. 401 
 
 open, he spread his wings and darted away. 
 Naomi rushed to the window, but there was no 
 one in the street, and the dove s lessening wing 
 was all she saw as he floated away in the blue 
 ether. 
 
 The dove has ever been the messenger of 
 peace arid love, from the time when it skimmed 
 the wild, tossing waves of the deluge, to the 
 period when it descended as the emblem of spir 
 itual purity upon the head of the Son, and down 
 through all the ages of violence and war, till 
 now, when it lighted on the humble window of 
 the most unoffending and gentlest of prisoners. 
 
 The letter detached from its wing contained a 
 key, and a well-arranged plan for Naomi s escape. 
 It required only personal intrepidity and the 
 courage that few women possess, together with 
 complete confidence in him who arranged the 
 plan of escape. It was indeed a bold and well- 
 arranged plan, and Naomi, as she finished its 
 study, laid down the paper in despair. 
 
 It was so arranged that no one could be im 
 plicated, not even that disinterested friend, Faith. 
 Herbert alone took the responsibility upon him 
 self; but then it involved a winter s journey 
 through the icy and snow-impeded paths of the 
 forest. Naomi had too much good-sense and 
 purity for prudery, but she could not resolve to 
 26 
 
402 NAOMI. 
 
 compromise the safety and honor of this gener 
 ous friend, and perhaps blight his prospects 
 through life by connecting his name with one 
 branded with heresy, and perhaps also blighted 
 for ever by the dread expiation of heresy. 
 
 The plan was not accepted. Her window re 
 mained closed through the night and morning ; 
 for there had been a postscript, directing her, if 
 she acceded to the plan of escape, to open her 
 window the next morning, when the dove would 
 return for her reply. No, the window remained 
 closed. Naomi would not compromise her friend. 
 As soon as she had decided this deep and terrible 
 conflict, she opened the Bible, as the unhappy 
 often do, to see if the eye will not fall upon 
 some comforting words. Naomi was startled as 
 hers rested on these words of Job : " My days 
 are past, my purposes are broken off. If I wait, 
 the grave is mine house : I have made my bed 
 in darkness. And where is now my hope ? As 
 for my hope, who shall see it ? " 
 
-.. 
 
 CHAPTER XXXI. 
 
 THE day for the examination of Naomi before 
 the committee of the church, a day far more 
 appalling than that of her trial, was to be on 
 the morrow. She felt at this moment complete 
 ly isolated ; there was no one whom she could 
 make understand her exact position. Even Faith 
 would scarcely have comprehended, if she were 
 not fully a Quaker, how she could differ so es 
 sentially from the church as to put her life in 
 jeopardy. Her great anxiety was, to avoid an 
 interview with her step-father, as she had no 
 wish to involve herself in a quarrel with him. 
 She thought at one time of sending for the Rev. 
 Mr. Wilson, and, with sincere openness, confid 
 ing to him the truth of her inmost soul ; but 
 she recollected that Mrs. Hutchinson gained 
 nothing by her reliance upon the Puritan saint, 
 the Rev. Mr. Cotton, but nearly involved 
 him in the opprobrium that attached to herself. 
 But, forlorn as Naomi -felt, she was far from con 
 scious of the real odium attached to her. The 
 slanders that had accumulated since she was 
 brought before the little public of Boston at her 
 
404 NAOMI. 
 
 trial, and that had been whispered from ear to 
 ear, and from house to house, made her threefold 
 the child of the Devil. All this had arisen from 
 the expected censure of the church, which, as I 
 have said before, placed one, in this religious 
 community of Boston, beyond the pale of mercy 
 or justice. 
 
 The morning that Naomi was conducted by 
 the constable from her narrow prison to the 
 house of the Rev. Mr. Wilson, short as was the 
 transit, a crowd, impelled by curiosity, or a 
 cruel spirit of oppression, gathered around her on 
 the way. It was indeed Thursday, the day of 
 the Lecture. The little town was unusually 
 full, and, unless she should take a very circuitous 
 path and entered the back premises of the Rev. 
 Mr. Wilson, which the constable refused to do, 
 she was obliged to cross the market-place, 
 now filled with country sleds and sleighs ; horses 
 tied to posts, with both saddle and pillion, show 
 ing that the country dames had accompanied 
 their husbands or cavaliers for the purpose of at 
 tending the Lecture. Boys held cows and calves 
 by the halter, and more than one living swine, 
 together with many lying stiff and frozen, were 
 offered in the market that morning. As Naomi 
 passed, it was soon known ; and the rude boys 
 called after her, " There goes Molly Hutchin- 
 
NAOMI. 405 
 
 son s grand-daughter, there goes the half- 
 duaker ! Well, the cart s all ready, and the 
 whip, too. I Ve a nice yoke of oxen that will 
 go as slow as you want ; give you a dozen be 
 fore they have gone ten steps." 
 
 Naomi was taken into the room I have al 
 ready described, the study of the reverend 
 pastor. The sun, shining into the windows that 
 looked out upon the dazzling white of the snow, 
 showed its scrupulous neatness ; and only the 
 light ashes of the hickory wood, consuming in 
 the ample chimney, furnished motes to dance in 
 the sun-beams. The extreme warmth and com 
 fort of the room seemed to be entirely appreci 
 ated by a couple of plethoric cats, that were ly 
 ing curled up near the andirons. Mr. Wilson 
 was dressed for the Thursday Lecture, with his 
 cassock and his bands ; his white hair, parted in 
 the centre of the forehead, hung down upon 
 each shoulder. His mild and sad expression for 
 an instant carried comfort to Naomi s heart, as 
 she asked leave to throw off her cloak, the ex 
 treme warmth of the room after the keen out 
 ward air inducing a slight feeling of faintness. 
 
 With the utmost courtesy he assisted her to 
 remove the heavy cloak lined with fur. Had 
 Naomi been bent upon conquest, she could not 
 have attired herself more becomingly than she 
 
406 NAOMI. 
 
 had done unconsciously, and without a thought 
 except of the extreme coldness of the day. She 
 wore a close-fitting dark-velvet dress, the sleeves 
 and the neck (which was open) heing trimmed 
 with the fur of the silver-gray fox. A white 
 cambric chemise, or gorget, as it was then call 
 ed, was drawn closely up to the beautiful white 
 throat, and her hair, without curl, was plain up 
 on her temples. 
 
 Naomi had scarcely recovered from her faint- 
 ness when the other members of the committee 
 entered. The Rev. John .Norton and two of the 
 ruling elders, together with the pastor already 
 present, constituted the tribunal before which 
 she was summoned. It was a strange sight, and 
 a stranger contrast, which the extreme pallor 
 caused by Naomi s faintness had served to height 
 en. She sat there in her youth and her orphan 
 hood, comparatively ignorant and humble, ar 
 raigned as an offender before these stern and grave 
 old men, to account for her unconscious heresies, 
 and to renounce, if possible, the aspirations of 
 her inexperienced heart. On one side, the experi 
 ences of threescore years ; the midnight studies 
 of scholars ; the gray-bearded learning of sages ; 
 the gathered ashes of the burnt-out sacrifices 
 of Hebrew altars ; the garnered leaves fallen 
 from the ancient groves of Greek learning ; the 
 
NAOMI. 407 
 
 metaphysical subtilties, culled from ponderous 
 tomes of the later fathers and the stern authori 
 ty of their own church. On the other side, the 
 orphan girl, ignorant of all but the wisdom of 
 truth and honesty, unlearned in all but the love 
 of the heart. 
 
 Mr. Wilson I have already described. The 
 reverend old man was softened by bereavement 
 and age, and looked with an eye of tenderness 
 and pity upon the poor young woman, subjected 
 to the scrutiny of iron wills, and hearts cased by 
 bigotry in iron. Norton was a stern, dark man, 
 and although his eye sparkled with intellect, it 
 did not melt with compassion. Inflexible in 
 his enmity to the Quakers, and inexorable in 
 his condemnation of all who favored them, he 
 had just published his tractate against them en 
 titled " The Heart of New England rent at the 
 Blasphemies of the Present Generation," for 
 which he was rewarded by the General Court 
 with a hundred acres of land. He was, indeed, 
 a burning and a shining light in the church ; but 
 his lamp was not fed with the oil pressed from 
 the olive of peace, nor was it kindled at the 
 torch of love. He had none of those tender re- 
 lentings towards Naomi prompted by the mem 
 ory of lovely daughters or sweet grandchildren. 
 He regarded her comely beauty as a snare of the 
 
408 NAOMI. 
 
 Evil One, spread, perhaps, even for him. His 
 only answer, frequently repeated, till it came to 
 be a proverb, when asked what they should do 
 with the Quakers, and those who favored them, 
 was, " Send them back to hell, the place from 
 which they came ! " 
 
 The first question that this iron-hearted tribu 
 nal put to Naomi was suggested by the tender 
 ness of the Rev. Mr. Wilson, hoping to suggest 
 to her an excuse for one of the charges brought 
 against her, that of not joining the family prayers 
 of her step-father in the morning ; but it only 
 served to mislead. "You sleep not well, my 
 dear daughter? " he asked. 
 
 Naomi answered, somewhat surprised at the 
 question, that her sleep was unbroken till the 
 early dawn, an hour always precious to her ; and 
 she added, unconsciously, "I am an early 
 riser." 
 
 Mr. Norton now said, somewhat hypocritically, 
 that he had hoped broken and uneasy sleep 
 obliged her to take the morning hours for repose, 
 as she did not join the family worship of her 
 step-father. 
 
 "No," said Naomi, "I have not that excuse to 
 plead. My sleep through the night is as though 
 wafted on downy wings to my pillow j and I am 
 sometimes ready to say, perhaps presumptuously, 
 ( God giveth his beloved sleep. " 
 
NAOMI. 409 
 
 " Bat," said Mr. Norton, " this refreshing sleep, 
 does it not lead you to express your gratitude in 
 the morning, and in the worship of the family ? " 
 
 Naomi answered, that she hoped there was a 
 silent worship in her heart, and an incense of 
 gratitude, that rose to the throne of God, if not 
 fragrant to the perceptions of man. 
 
 Mr. Norton said, somewhat sternly, that such 
 ideas and expectations were only the nattering 
 promises of the Evil One to deceive. They 
 were held out by the Devil to prevent simple and 
 sinful souls from doing what was alone accepta 
 ble to God, the public offering of devotion and 
 gratitude. Were not the Israelites commanded, 
 in every case, to bring the offering publicly and 
 lay it upon the common altar ? The burnt-offer 
 ing, the thank-offering, and the peace-offering, 
 were they not all brought into the great assem 
 bly of the people and offered in public ? Even 
 the most private and sacred domestic joys were 
 made the subject of public gratitude." 
 
 " But," said Naomi, " the Saviour ordered his 
 disciples to enter into the closet, and shut the 
 door, and pray to the Father who seeth in secret ; 
 and there is a still more secret and acceptable 
 prayer, that which is breathed in the silent 
 heart." 
 
 Naomi had very nearly uttered the most of- 
 
410 NAOMI. 
 
 fensive heresy of the Quakers ; that is, the 
 sensible and constant direction of the spirit of 
 God in man, made known in prayer; but the 
 ministers, although they frowned, were to$ intent 
 upon their own questions to pause to censure her 
 at present. 
 
 The next question was the same put to her in 
 the court j a question that should never be asked 
 except in the intimacy of the nearest friendship. 
 " Did she believe herself in a state of grace ? " 
 This insidious question was intended to entrap ; 
 for how could so humble a creature as Naomi 
 have the presumption to say she believed herself 
 a chosen child of God? which was the only 
 meaning the Puritans attached to that phrase ; 
 and having joined the church, she could not say 
 that she was not a subject of grace. She an 
 swered, however, modestly, "If I am not, 
 God can give me grace j and if I am, he can 
 keep me in it." 
 
 These were but leading questions. The three 
 great points of denial that were imputed to the 
 Quakers were the Trinity, the Scriptures as the 
 only rule of life, and the church as a divine insti 
 tution ; from these was inferred the denial of the 
 authority of the ministers and of the rites of 
 baptism and the supper. 
 
 Naomi had declared from the beginning that 
 
NAOMI. 411 
 
 she had no sympathy with the Quakers as dis 
 turbers of the church or of the civil order. There 
 was nothing in common between them, she said ; 
 her connection with them was wholly acciden 
 tal ; she became involved with them, and a pris 
 oner in the same jail, solely from her interest in 
 Margaret. But in consequence of her solitary 
 childhood, and the circumstance of living where 
 religious opinions were discussed, she had had 
 her mind excited upon subjects, with which 
 young women rarely trouble themselves, and had 
 been so happy as to find all doubts removed. 
 
 To the question, whether she denied the Trini 
 ty, she did not presume, she answered, to decide 
 upon a subject so much beyond her powers of 
 comprehension ; but was willing to submit her 
 belief to those learned men who had investigated 
 this incomprehensible dogma of the church. 
 
 This answer was not satisfactory ; still, it 
 could not be called heresy. Mr. Wilson com 
 mended her humility, and asked, in the same 
 breath, " Did she believe in the Scriptures as 
 the only rule of faith and practice ? " 
 
 There was an earlier light, she thought ; the 
 light in the soul, that spoke to the prophets of 
 old, and " now whispers to the willing mind." 
 
 There was a quick exchange of glances by 
 her inquisitors, a murmur of disapprobation. 
 
412 NAOMI. 
 
 " The spirit is the guide that leads to truth," 
 added Naomi, " whether it be the truth contained 
 in the Bible or an earlier truth dwelling in every 
 heart." 
 
 " Is not the Bible, then, the fountain of all 
 truth, of all religion ? " 
 
 " The Bible," said Naomi, modestly, " appears 
 to me, not religion itself, but to contain the rec 
 ords of a formal and ceremonial religion. If the 
 Scriptures were the only rule of life, what were 
 those saints who lived before the Scriptures 
 were known ? " 
 
 " Perhaps, then," said one of the elders, " you 
 deny the Protestant church to be the only true 
 church." 
 
 Naomi was silent. This was the point which 
 to deny was the damnable sin of heresy. The 
 question, in its simplicity, was merely this, 
 " Would she submit herself to the rule of this 
 church, implicitly believe its dogmas, or listen 
 to the inspiration of conscience in her own 
 heart ? " 
 
 Naomi was silent ; for she felt that the answer 
 to the question was the turning-point in her 
 destiny. She could not lie, and here she must 
 be lost. Here was the church itself, in its min 
 isters and elders, arrayed in power and authority, 
 furnished with learned dogmas, the prescription 
 
NAOMI. 413 
 
 of ages, opposed to a simple, unlettered girl. 
 She felt the terrible inequality, and did not an 
 swer till the question was repeated. 
 
 Naomi had become very pale, but she an 
 swered, in a firm voice, " Although I esteem 
 the learning, and wisdom, and piety of the 
 church, yet, in things belonging only to God 
 and myself, I must live by the light which God 
 has given me, although it be but a rush-light 
 in comparison with the shining lights of the 
 church ; I must live by my own faith, not that 
 of the church. The laws of men are but the 
 injunctions of mortals ; but what the spirit dic 
 tates is the voice from heaven within us." 
 
 " And you," said Mr. Norton, " you, an un 
 learned woman, one of the babes of the church 
 (if, indeed, you belong at all to the church), 
 you oppose your own judgment against the 
 teachers and elders of the church. You light 
 your rush-light, kindled by the spark of vanity, 
 fed with the oil of spiritual pride, and, though 
 obscured by the thick smoke of ignorance, you 
 hold it up in opposition to the golden candle 
 stick, the lights that shine like stars in the 
 church." 
 
 " But," said Naomi, " if I must find my own 
 way through the dark providences of God, if I 
 must live by the light that is shed on the diffi- 
 
414 
 
 NAOMI. 
 
 cult passages of private duty, the light that I 
 carry in my own hand, however small and faint, 
 will keep my feet from stumbling far better than 
 the more distant, however glaring, lights of the 
 church." 
 
 Hard and dry reasoners never feel what is 
 touching in the simple-minded ; and Mr. Norton, 
 opposed by the true simplicity of Naomi s char 
 acter, was pale with anger. He who had writ 
 ten in Latin the learned account of church dis 
 cipline in New England, he who modelled the 
 Cambridge platform of church government, was 
 confronted by a young girl, modest, indeed, 
 and unassuming in the expression, but calm and 
 firm in the support, of her opposition. His anger 
 was seen through the working of his pale, sharp 
 features. " It is the spirit of pride, of an un 
 converted soul, that dictates this arrogant differ 
 ence from your spiritual teachers," he said j and 
 he rose as though he were going to quit all and 
 leave them to their darkness. 
 
 " Rather," said one of the dark -browed elders, 
 " it comes rather from the father of lies, the 
 Devil, who has entered into the soul of this 
 young girl, comely though she be, to deceive us, 
 and to entice us to excuse her heresies and lies. 
 My advice is, that we proceed with the utmost 
 severity in this case, and crush at once the brood 
 of the serpent by the utmost rigor of the law." 
 
NAOMI. 415 
 
 Naomi had hitherto borne herself bravely. 
 She was morally courageous, but she possessed 
 that tenderness of temperament that a rude or 
 harsh word could instantly put down and crush. 
 She kept back the tears that swelled her breast 
 and trembled upon her eyelids, and said, firmly, 
 that she declined to answer any further questions 
 this day. The gentlemen could draw what in 
 ferences they pleased, but she conceived they 
 had not the power to compel her to answer 
 further. 
 
 The reader must not suppose that Naomi s ex 
 amination ended here. Ah, no ! It was pro 
 tracted through many wearisome days. She 
 was examined in all the dogmas of Calvinism, 
 dogmas at this day revolting to common sense, 
 and to all those natural feelings that had seemed 
 to Naomi like the inspirations of a higher power. 
 She could not deny these inspirations. To her 
 uninformed spirit, they took the form of revela 
 tions from God. In nothing else did she hold 
 any faith in common with the Quakers, but the 
 various tenets of Calvinism, as held by our fa 
 thers, seemed to her little less than blasphemies 
 and curses. Let me not be misunderstood ; the 
 most humble and earnest souls may hold these 
 dogmas, souls that are daily fed with charity 
 and prayer, and filled to overflowing with tender, 
 
416 NAOMI. 
 
 human love ; but their faith, their tenets, are no 
 part of themselves. 
 
 From one of these stern Calvinists is taken 
 the tender blossom, the last that had expanded 
 upon the rough plant, an infant, unbaptized 
 and unconverted. The parent s creed condemns 
 that child to eternal flames ; but in the family 
 it is remembered as the angel visitant, short in 
 its tarry, but leaving behind the fragrance of 
 heaven. Its little birth-place, its cradle, is a 
 shrine where are gathered all tender memories ; 
 and to the other children, this is the little saint 
 who blessed the dwelling, and to meet whom 
 in heaven is the reward of exertion and of good 
 ness. 
 
 The examination of Naomi by the committee 
 of the church did not help her cause with the 
 people, scarcely with her nearest friends. The 
 crime for which she was arraigned was a humane 
 and generous fault ; but heresy was a secret and 
 terrible taint, feared as it was unknown. Her 
 step-father was incapable of understanding the 
 conscientious scruples that governed Naomi, and 
 would it not have compromised his high charac 
 ter in the church, would it not have drawn 
 suspicion on his orthodoxy to move in her cause ? 
 Faith, also, could scarcely understand why Nao 
 mi, as she was not a Quaker, should differ from 
 
NAOMI. 417 
 
 the church. The church she thought good 
 enough for any one, and surely Naomi was good 
 enough for the church. Why, then, should they 
 differ? Still, her favorite could not be wrong, 
 and all her energies were at work to reestablish 
 Naomi, to obtain her acquittal. 
 
 Had it been summer, how easily could she have 
 escaped ! With the assistance of her brave little 
 horse, she could have been in a few hours within 
 the borders of Rhode Island, at that time the 
 refuge for exiles for conscience sake. But it was 
 the dead, or rather the depth, of winter; the 
 snow lay deep upon the ground, the dark and 
 gloomy sky foretold that more was gathered 
 there ready to fall, and the winds seemed only to 
 lie hushed over the leaden-colored waves of the 
 bay, ready to curl up their giant billows like 
 terrible barriers against escape by sea. The 
 troubled sea-gulls spread their white wings over 
 the land, as though driven for a moment to take 
 shelter there, and then soared away again into 
 the dim regions of darkness and storms. 
 
 The heavens presented strange and alarming 
 aspects ; portentous burning stars appeared in the 
 sky ; angry meteors shook their lances over the 
 devoted little town ; comets darted through the 
 lurid nights j " the sun was said to set in streams 
 of blood, and the moon to cast no shadow ; ter- 
 27 
 
418 NAOMI. 
 
 rible noises were heard in the air; thunders 
 without clouds, and lightnings without rain ; 
 strange shapes of coffins and hearses were seea 
 in the sky ; armies contending with each other 
 in bloody battles ; and angels and devils fight 
 ing for the souls of men." * The minds of the 
 inhabitants were wrapped in gloom. These 
 were the signs of God s wrath against them for 
 permitting the Quakers to live ; while the 
 Quakers interpreted these signs and wonders as 
 the threatenings of God s anger against their 
 persecutors. 
 
 There seemed to be a lingering reluctance to 
 pass sentence against Naomi. No shadow of 
 doubt rested upon her guilt. She had, without 
 the consent of her step-father, sheltered and 
 comforted a well-known Quaker. She had been 
 once in a house where Quakers were assembled 
 for their worship j and she had aided a convicted 
 Quaker to escape from justice. These were of 
 fences for any one of which the penalty of the 
 law was precise and severe. Heavy fines, the 
 loss of the ears, boring of the tongue, whipping, 
 and imprisonment, even the last penalty of guilt 
 and crime, had been exacted for less offences ; 
 but in the eyes of her examiners and judges, 
 
 * The annals of the time recount all these signs and wonders 
 in the heavens. 
 
NAOMI. 419 
 
 these were not her heaviest crimes. The plague- 
 spot was not in these open, outside offences. It 
 was the taint of heresy, the sin of daring to 
 think for herself, the unpardonable crime of 
 daring to differ from the church in opinion, 
 the non-submission of her own mind to the 
 minds of her ministers and judges, that con 
 demned Naomi, and took her from under the 
 shadow of the white wings of mercy. 
 
CHAPTER XXXII. 
 
 " Of her visage children were sore afear d." 
 
 PERMIT me, my courteous reader, to change the 
 scene, and to introduce you for a short half-hour 
 into an obscure and dark tenement, somewhere 
 in the north part of the town, near a cove or 
 landing-place for fishing-boats, where, upon all 
 but moonlight evenings, various old, repaired, 
 and crazy boats were drawn up and secured 
 upon the narrow beach of mud and sand. Ex 
 actly upon high-water mark there stood a small 
 tenement, the front of which was a dark and 
 dingy shop, where sailors and fishermen could 
 always find the solace of a glass of spirits, or a 
 mug of cider or beer, tobacco for their pipes, 
 and even necessary articles for more essential 
 service, while a small wooden counter was cov 
 ered with wooden and leaden measures, from a 
 quart pot descending to half a gill. This little 
 dark space, like the cabin of the smallest vessel, 
 and so low that a man could scarcely stand up 
 right, was hung round with sailors trousers, 
 baize shirts, and tarpaulins ; and pipes, wherever 
 
NAOMI. 421 
 
 there was an inch of room, were suspended 
 upon brackets. 
 
 The tenant of this place of humble entertain 
 ment, where the wet and shivering sailor could 
 always find the small creature comforts he craved, 
 was an old and crippled woman, who had seen 
 nearly eighty winters. Her pale, emaciated vis 
 age had worn so long the expression of craft, 
 that it seemed to have wrinkled and stiffened 
 into a grotesque mask of mildewed lead, but 
 still she possessed, even at this great age, the 
 power of removing all expression from her feat 
 ures, and giving them the fixedness of death. 
 Her hair, bleached to the whiteness of snow, 
 was drawn back under a hood of rusty black 
 velvet ; yet there was enough visible to form a 
 striking contrast to bushy eyebrows as black as 
 jet, and a slight mustache at each corner of her 
 shrivelled lips of the same color. 
 
 It was a dark and stormy evening, immediately 
 after Naomi s trial, and before the sentence had 
 been pronounced ; the hour was past nine, and 
 the little shop was closed for the night j the old 
 woman, whom we shall call Mother Bunyan, 
 was seated by the chimney of the low, sloping 
 room that formed the back part of this tenement. 
 Her labors for the day were over, and she was 
 solacing herself with a pipe, and preparing what 
 
422 NAOMI. 
 
 she called her nightcap, a mug of strong beer, 
 heated by quenching in the hissing liquor the 
 red-hot tongs. A knock at the shop-door did 
 not startle the old woman, for she was accus 
 tomed to nocturnal visits. The snow, as she 
 saw by the one pane forming a light for her den, 
 was falling fast, and had completely whitened 
 the little window, and she bid the visitors enter. 
 Two muffled figures came through the shop, en 
 veloped in cloaks, under which one of them car 
 ried a dark lantern. The room was enlightened 
 only partially by the glimmering embers of burnt- 
 out logs, so that, when the slide was turned, a 
 strong Rembrandt light was thrown upon the 
 cloaked figures, bringing into relief the white 
 wool that circled Sambo s dark features, and the 
 brilliant eyes, but somewhat pale features, of his 
 master s daughter, Ruth. 
 
 The old woman manifested no surprise ; she 
 was accustomed to the visits of the young, even 
 at these late hours, and without rising she called 
 to Ruth, and pointed to a low seat. " Come here, 
 my lamb," she said, " and warm your poor little 
 hands " ; for Ruth was shaking with cold and 
 fear. She then signed to Sambo to put down 
 his lantern and wait in the shop, for she inferred 
 at once and with truth that Ruth s business was 
 private. Poor Sambo obeyed ; it had been the 
 
NAOMI. 423 
 
 business of his life to obey, and, beside this in 
 stinct of obedience, he had no wish and no will 
 to refuse any order whatever from mistress Ruth. 
 When, therefore, she ordered him to come with 
 her to-night, he only besought that it might be 
 after prayers, lest he should be summoned, and 
 his aid in what he knew would mortally offend, 
 not his master, but Faith, betrayed. Ruth also 
 was glad to put off her nocturnal walk till after 
 prayers, lest they might be recognized in the 
 street, perhaps detained, and missed at the ap 
 pointed hour. 
 
 I have mentioned before, that Ruth was an 
 intrepid and self-willed girl, but this walk through 
 the snow of a stormy night, after the bell had 
 tolled nine, required all her courage. She was, 
 however, now here at the confessional with the 
 old sibyl, or the dark priestess of the future, and 
 she was determined not to be baulked of her 
 object. She passed more than half an hour in 
 secret conversation with the old woman, when 
 she called to Sambo and bade him take the lan 
 tern to accompany her home. Upon the way 
 home, Ruth leaned upon the arm of poor old 
 Sambo, who tottered with age, and cold, and 
 fear. Sambo ventured once to ask if old 
 Witch Bunyan had promised her good luck, 
 but Ruth was silent, and when she reached the 
 
424 NAOMI. 
 
 door, she bade him good night in a whisper, and 
 crept to her chamber. She need not have feared 
 being shut out ; in these primitive times there 
 were neither locks nor bolts ; the latch was easily 
 lifted, but the inmates were safe. Did Ruth 
 sleep soundly ? Ah, yes ! for the light-hearted 
 and innocent, those who scarcely need the sol 
 ace of " nature s sweet restorer, balmy sleep," 
 easily " knit up the ravelled sleeve of care." 
 
 To return to her who I would fain hope has 
 excited the interest of my readers. Naomi pined 
 in her solitary cell, waiting for her sentence, 
 passing wearily the dark and gloomy days of 
 winter, and the long, long nights of the winter 
 solstice, wearing away the heavy hours in short 
 and broken slumbers, or in long seasons of wake- 
 fulness ; for Naomi had been accustomed to a life 
 of activity, and to pass much of the day in 
 healthful exercise. The sudden and total change 
 from a life of active and perpetual employment 
 to one of sedentary and quiet indolence, to whole 
 days, and weeks, and months of miserable pac 
 ing of the eight feet of her prison, had caused 
 an unnatural activity of the mind, an extreme 
 excitement of the nervous system, so that sleep 
 was sometimes for whole nights long a stranger 
 to her eyelids. It was in vain that she made 
 every occupation of her day methodical and 
 
NAOMI. 425 
 
 exact, that she attained a strict governance of 
 her thoughts, so that no anxious nor exciting 
 memories should haunt her pillow ; in vain that 
 she committed the purity of her soul to the 
 guardianship of angels, and resigned the whole 
 of her future to the love and wisdom of her 
 Heavenly Father. Again and again would Na 
 omi exclaim, 
 
 " O sleep, O gentle sleep ! 
 Nature s soft nurse, how have I frighted thee, 
 That thou no more wilt weigh my eyelids down, 
 And steep my senses in forgetfulness ? " 
 
 The loss of sleep induced a general lassitude 
 and irritability of the nervous system, harder to 
 bear than real and dangerous illness. It was in 
 vain that she strove against it. Naomi s heart 
 was high and courageous, but the delicate struc 
 ture of the nerves, weakened by this long-con 
 tinued wakefulness, was attenuated and wearied, 
 and often Naomi found herself melted to tears, 
 without any new or apparent cause for this 
 weakness. 
 
 She had passed a long and gloomy evening 
 without a light for the jailer s wife had forgot 
 ten to bring it in alternate efforts to keep back, 
 and in momentary yieldings to, her tears, when 
 suddenly the door was opened, and the little 
 daughter of the jailer ushered in a bent and ap- 
 
426 NAOMI. 
 
 parently crippled old woman, who supported her 
 self with a crutch. Naomi started, and asked 
 the child where were her parents, and how could 
 any one gain admittance in defiance of the order 
 of the magistrates, forbidding access to the pris 
 oners in the jail. 
 
 Patience replied, that her parents had gone 
 to church meeting, and that the old woman as 
 sured her she had permission from the governor 
 himself to visit Naomi. 
 
 " Say no more," cried the old woman, " I 
 come to give ye comfort " ; and she signed to the 
 girl to leave them. 
 
 Naomi now recognized the old woman of the 
 sailors shop, that she had seen at her step-fa 
 ther s door, and that Faith sometimes in the 
 severity of the winter had visited, to inquire if 
 she were starving or freezing. I did not inform 
 my readers at the time of Ruth s almost mid 
 night visit of the bad reputation she sustained 
 in the colony. It was whispered about, although 
 not in the ears of the ministers, that she made 
 use of many vile and secret practices, but not to 
 get her living, for at that time, in the little com 
 munity of Boston, honest poverty was never al 
 lowed to suffer. This old woman was said to 
 pretend to a knowledge of the secrets of futu 
 rity. It was said that she could restore lost arti- 
 
NAOMI. 427 
 
 cles ; reveal the inmost secrets of the soul to 
 him who sought the hidden mystery ; that she 
 could give the lover favor in the eyes of his 
 mistress, and cause the expectant heir to rejoice 
 in the death of the miser. In short, she was 
 the Mrs. Turner of New England, ready for any 
 nefarious and dirty work. It may seem strange 
 to my readers that such a character should be 
 permitted to exist in the little Puritan commu 
 nity of Boston. Human nature is the same ; and 
 the desire to pry into the secrets of futurity, to 
 believe in the agency of the Evil One, that be 
 longed to the sixteenth and seventeenth centu 
 ries, was not excluded from any spot on the 
 globe. The ministers would not have permitted 
 a witch to live, and this very old woman was, 
 not many months after this period, banished from 
 Boston on pain of death. 
 
 Naomi, in the weak and irritable state of her 
 nerves, merely said, " You come without per 
 mission, and I desire that you would immediately 
 leave me." 
 
 " I come," she answered, " to give you free 
 dom. Listen only to what I say, and before 
 twenty-four hours you shall be in safety." 
 
 " What would you say ? " asked Naomi. 
 
 " Look into your own heart," said the woman ; 
 " who fills it at this moment ? of whom were 
 
428 NAOMI. 
 
 you thinking when I opened the door ? Where 
 do you turn your eyes whenever you go to that 
 little window ? Whose shadow do you follow 
 in the sunlight and in the moonlight ? " 
 
 " It is unnecessary for me to answer," said 
 Naomi, "if you can thus read my heart." 
 
 " Well," said the old woman, " you can count 
 the pulsations of your own heart, and I can tell 
 you that where one throb of joy beats in yours, 
 it is answered with a throb of anguish in hers ; 
 a young heart, too, that you are bound to guard 
 from pain, that you have vowed to protect at the 
 expense of your own happiness." 
 
 " Hers ? " said Naomi. " What do you mean, 
 old woman ? What do you come to tell me ? " 
 and all color left Naomi s face, and she remained 
 pale as death. 
 
 " Ah ! " said the old woman, " I did but give 
 voice to your own thought. I touched the 
 chord, and your own soul returns the sound." 
 
 I have before hinted at the rumors that had 
 been current ever since the journey when Wal 
 ton snatched Ruth from the swollen river at the 
 moment she was sinking, that her young heart 
 had beat only for him, and that Mr. Aldersey 
 had observed it, and would fain reward him with 
 her hand and with Naomi s fortune. Naomi, 
 too, although no word of this had been whis- 
 
NAOMI. 429 
 
 pered to her, had observed, whenever Ruth vis 
 ited her in the prison, a change in the young 
 girl, frequent blushes and sighs, and a covert 
 but constant desire to lead the conversation to, 
 and to dwell on, Herbert Walton. Naomi could 
 not and did not admit the thought, but now, when 
 it was mentioned by another, a flash of light il 
 lumined her whole mind. 
 
 " And who has bid you," asked Naomi, " to 
 come here and wound me with suspicions that 
 can only add to my distress ? " 
 
 " I did not come to wound," said the old 
 woman with a malicious smile ; "I came to give 
 you freedom, freedom before that sun sets 
 again, will you only accept it." 
 
 Naomi was silent. She knew some condition 
 was annexed to this offer of freedom. She 
 scarcely wished to know what, and she was 
 silent. 
 
 The old woman fixed her stony eyes upon her 
 with that look from which all expression was 
 withdrawn. " You know," she said, " that you 
 are condemned to death." Naomi started. "At 
 least your death is determined on, if not yet 
 made known. One sentence only is possible 
 for you, the rope that served Mary Dyer will 
 do for you. You are heavier than that old wo 
 man ; but it was not stretched too much by her 
 
430 NAOMI. 
 
 poor, emaciated body, and it will do for you. 
 Freedom I can promise you, freedom, assured 
 by a powerful friend. You have only to consent 
 to go on board a vessel that is now in the stream. 
 To-morrow evening the door will be opened by 
 a powerful hand, a person who will insure you 
 from molestation." 
 
 " And what previous sacrifice is demanded of 
 me ? " asked Naomi. 
 
 The old woman came close to her, and whis 
 pered, in a loud and hissing whisper, in her ear, 
 " You have only to write a letter to Herbert 
 Walton, renouncing him for ever, and urging 
 him to love and marry your little sister Ruth." 
 
 " Begone, fiend," said Naomi, " and never 
 again darken my prison door ! Of what value, 
 think you, would life be to me after such a re 
 nunciation ? Let death come the next hour, it 
 would be as welcome as the new-born babe to 
 its mother." 
 
 The old woman had retreated a few steps, 
 and sat down with the same unmoved and stony 
 expression. She was like some great instrument 
 of torture, that utters its mechanical groan and 
 does its work, were it to wring a limb or pierce 
 a heart, and then is still till the next turn of the 
 wheel gives another thrust. 
 
 Naomi was neither taken by surprise, nor was 
 
NAOMI. 431 
 
 she appalled and thrown off her guard by the 
 weakness of her nerves. The moment she re 
 flected, she knew the object of the old woman 
 was not to propose flight to her, but to frighten 
 her into some concession or renunciation that 
 would favor her step-father s views upon Herbert, 
 by presenting to her, in the weakened state of 
 her mind, the only alternative, a horrible death, 
 or flight. But she knew well that the magis 
 trates would not venture upon another execu 
 tion, especially that of a woman, and that she 
 would herself gain nothing by flight ; flight it 
 self was banishment, and a legal banishment was 
 no more terrible to her than one enforced by fear 
 and flight. But it fell upon her heart with the 
 heaviness of lead, that the object of this visit 
 was to intimidate, and induce her to fall into 
 the plan, already ripened, to detach Herbert from 
 her, to work upon her generous and sisterly 
 feelings, and induce her to renounce all claims 
 in favor of Ruth. She perceived that a pow 
 erful enemy was at the root of the plot, and 
 that enemy her step-father. Who else could 
 have assured her of an immediate and unmolest 
 ed flight ? Who else had influence to overcome 
 the scruples of the jailer, and set open the pris 
 on doors ? 
 
 Naomi, as I have said before, was humble, and 
 
432 NAOMI. 
 
 the terrible course of discipline she had gone 
 through had served to increase her self-distrust. 
 At this moment, this painful self-distrust took 
 possession of her mind, and caused her to wrong 
 in thought the truest and most faithful heart. She 
 raised her head at length, and said, " You bid 
 me advise Herbert to forget me, and to love my 
 sister ; think you that forgetfulness is so easy, 
 and that love can come and go at command of 
 the will ? 
 
 The old woman came again close to Naomi, 
 and hissed in her ear, "I have means that never 
 failed ; I can make the mother forget the babe of 
 her womb, and the bridegroom forget the bride 
 that was only yesterday his own." 
 
 " Then," said Naomi, immediately recovering 
 the full powers of her reason and intellect, " then 
 you need no concurrence of mine. Begone, 
 fiend, and never again disturb the solitary hours 
 of one who defies you ! " 
 
 At this moment the door was opened by the 
 jailer s wife. So little surprise was manifested 
 at the sight of the old woman, that Naomi could 
 not help suspecting that the concurrence of the 
 wife at least, in this intrusive visit, had been pre 
 viously obtained. 
 
 And how was it with Herbert during this plot 
 against his happiness ? Was he left personally 
 
NAOMI. 433 
 
 unmolested ? Mr. Aldersey ventured once, and 
 once only, to lift the veil from the cloistered and 
 vestal sanctuary where Naomi dwelt, as in a holy 
 shrine ; but he was met with so stern and so 
 determined a rebuke, that the crafty man of 
 forms found upright and straightforward ingen 
 uousness more than a match for wily and con 
 cealed hypocrisy. 
 
 Naomi s sentence could be delayed no longer. 
 She had been three months a prisoner, and Jan 
 uary was drawing to a close. It was the very 
 heart of the winter, and the horrors of banish 
 ment by sea or land could scarcely be increased. 
 The usual sentence against the Quakers was ban 
 ishment in twenty-four hours, or the utmost ex 
 tremity of the law.* This was all that could 
 be wrung from the tender mercies of the judges 
 in their sentence against Naomi, banishment in 
 twenty-four hours fro m the time, not of her re 
 ceiving the sentence, but from the time of its 
 being promulgated, publicly declared through 
 the mouth of the hangman. Should physical 
 debility, the tenderness of a feminine nature, or 
 the frailty of a too delicate constitution, cause 
 her to linger to breathe the air of New England 
 
 * See the records of the General Court in the State-house, 
 Boston. 
 
 28 
 
434 NAOMI. 
 
 beyond the prescribed moment, death was inev 
 itable ; the atmosphere of New England was 
 deadly to a condemned Quaker. 
 
 Naomi had been informed of her sentence, 
 and permitted to return to her step-father s house, 
 guarded, however, by constables till the moment 
 of her embarkation. The evening was closing 
 in, and in sad and tearful rejoicing the few friends 
 who remained faithful to Naomi were pressing 
 around her ; Faith and the attached servants, 
 Ruth, too, who loved her sister as a light na 
 ture loves, and Naomi looked upon her with the 
 pitying love of an angel, all were gathered 
 around to listen to the words of patience and 
 hope that fell from her lips, and to gather faith 
 and comfort from one who seemed incapable of 
 fainting or faltering upon the great path of duty ; 
 when suddenly was heard upon the night air, 
 now thick and murky with the gathering storm, 
 that well-known hollow sound of the drum, and 
 the heavy feet of the procession, headed by the 
 constable, proclaiming from street to street, and 
 corner to corner, the sentence of Naomi. They 
 stopped before the house of Mr. Aldersey, and 
 every syllable of the sentence, sending the pain 
 of death to the hearts of those who listened, was 
 distinctly heard, " Banishment in twenty-four 
 hours from that very moment, nine o clock, the 
 
NAOMI. 435 
 
 24th of January." The magistrates had chosen 
 this hour in order to strike terror into those who 
 would favor the Quakers. The night was ex 
 tremely dark, and the procession was headed by 
 torches, whose lurid and murky flame, as they 
 passed from house to house, glared into the win 
 dows, and threw a sinister light upon peaceful, 
 domestic scenes of repast or devotion. As the 
 sounds died away in the distance, the inhabit 
 ants drew nearer to their fires, and, looking in 
 each other s pale faces, they whispered with a 
 shudder, " Twenty-four hours, and a tempest 
 gathering in the sky ! " the dark clouds rolling 
 in from the ocean, the winds hushed together, 
 gathering their strength for the morrow, and the 
 threatening tempest becoming every moment 
 more appalling. The exclamations of the people 
 were according to the bitterness or the tender 
 ness of their feelings. Many exclaimed, " He 
 has sent out his arrows and scattered them. He 
 has shot out his lightnings and destroyed them." 
 " They shall be broken with a rod of iron. Thou 
 shalt dash them in pieces like a potter s vessel." 
 The self-righteous cried, " This is a day of de 
 liverance to the righteous, a day of pouring out 
 of wrath to the ungodly. God be praised ! de 
 struction hath overtaken his enemies." Some few 
 
436 
 
 NAOMI. 
 
 of tenderer natures, touched with compassion, 
 looked round with tearful eyes upon their chil 
 dren, and cried, " God have mercy upon the 
 fatherless and the orphan ! " 
 
CHAPTER XXXIII. 
 
 " Ha ! banishment ? be merciful ; say death ; 
 For exile hath more terror in his look, 
 Much more, than death. Do not say banishment." 
 
 THE dismal sound of that drum, proclaiming 
 Naomi s sentence, struck upon other ears. Her 
 bert Walton heard it, and rushed stunned and 
 overwhelmed to his home. He had lingered 
 fascinated upon the spot, to hear her doom pro 
 nounced, and then fled, to hide in a deeper soli 
 tude his unutterable misery. 
 
 The stern and haggard expression of that 
 youthful countenance, his complexion, former 
 ly rich like the brown hue of the apricot, now 
 ashy pale, the gloomy fire of his eyes, former 
 ly so gentle and winning, forbade his sister to 
 approach him with hope of comfort, or even with 
 expressions of pity. He sat stern, speechless, 
 overwhelmed, completely crushed j or he walked 
 the apartment with rapid strides, rivers of tears 
 pouring over his cheeks. These alternations of 
 fierce anguish or of softened sorrow, when the 
 memory of his love and hope dissolved him in 
 tears of fond regret, or changed to the agony of 
 
438 NAOMI. 
 
 despair, continued all that night. His father re 
 tired to pray, but his sister sat silently by him, 
 and sometimes, in moments of comparative calm, 
 she took his hand in hers. But he shrank from 
 sympathy. No ; he must wrestle with his grief 
 alone. 
 
 Shakspeare has left an imperishable picture of 
 youthful love, where the misery of the hour con 
 sists in banishment. But in those Southern im 
 aginations, no sterner picture is presented to Ro 
 meo than that of " summer flies seizing the 
 white wonder of dear Juliet s hand, stealing im 
 mortal blessings from her lips." Here were 
 sterner images. This, his Northern flower of 
 love and happiness, had started up thus beautiful 
 and vigorous amid the sterile soil of Calvinism ; 
 it had blossomed in the stifled air of imprison 
 ment and fear ; environed with thorns, it had 
 shed its sweet fragrance upon the desert of his 
 life, but now the steeled hand of bigotry, the 
 hand that could grasp unhurt the nettle and the 
 thistle, had torn it away and placed an iron heel 
 upon its tender beauty. 
 
 How did his rebellious heart rise in its anguish, 
 not only against the authors of his misery, but 
 against God himself! Had he been pleased to 
 hide her in the grave, had he placed the barrier of 
 time between them, Herbert could have imagined 
 
NAOMI. 439 
 
 her in an angel s robes, he could have cherished 
 her as a saint in memory. She would then have 
 been his, his alone, in thought ; no earthly ri 
 val could intervene to rob him of the certainty 
 of love beyond this world. But now the vulgar 
 barriers of earth, the waves of the ocean only, 
 would roll between them ; others could look up 
 on her ; rivals would intervene ; time, and with 
 it change, would come, forgetfulness, ah ! ten 
 thousand times worse than death. 
 
 In the midst of Walton s anguish, reason did 
 not wholly desert him. It told him that Naomi 
 was lost to him, but not utterly ; he could not 
 detain her, he could not follow her ; but rea 
 son whispered to him that banishment was not 
 wholly death ; " there was measure, limit, bound, 
 to that word s death " ; and, in the extremity of 
 his misery, hope whispered again that years 
 might pass, and love not die. 
 
 A mind like Herbert s could not long remain 
 a captive to despairing or blasphemous thoughts. 
 He had within him that well-spring of joy which 
 belongs to the poetical temperament, and the first 
 affliction, however terrible, could not turn its 
 waters to gall. He was not made for suffering. 
 I know not how to express my meaning; but 
 there are natures to whom suffering and anguish 
 are certain death ; they are guarded, therefore, 
 
440 NAOMI. 
 
 like the tender shell-fish, with a case of ada 
 mant. A ray of light instantly dawns upon the 
 darkness that wraps them. Like the sun in 
 northern latitudes, its rim does but sink beneath 
 the horizon ; no night comes upon the soul, but 
 only a softened and soothing darkness for an in 
 stant, and, behold ! the whole orb again is light. 
 Of them it may be said, " Sorrow endureth 
 for a night, but joy cometh in the morning." 
 
 In the morning, hope had returned to the soul 
 of Herbert. He could once more behold Naomi, 
 and that moment might be the happiest of his life. 
 
 The morning was dark and lowering ; thick 
 clouds hung low over the horizon, and sudden 
 gusts of wind, that blew the already drifted 
 snow into the air, threatened a wintry tempest. 
 The storm, if it came, would not detain Naomi. 
 The vessel was rocking, anchored in the stream ; 
 and if a boat could live, the shelter of that ves 
 sel was Naomi s refuge. 
 
 When Herbert arrived at the house of Mr. 
 Aldersey, he found the ministers there. In all 
 afflictions, public or domestic, the ministers must 
 consecrate them with prayer. Naomi s step 
 father, in his secret heart, was certainly not griev 
 ing at the calamity of his step-daughter. Pub 
 licly, in the eyes of the church and of his fellow- 
 citizens, he was the martyr ; he was the afflicted 
 
NAOMI. 441 
 
 one. Heresy had been found under his roof. 
 He was thrusting his pride-fed, but sanctified 
 face forward, and saying to every one, " Pity 
 me, pity me, O my friends ! for the hand of the 
 Lord hath touched me " ; while the real martyr, 
 she who had sacrificed all rather than lie to her 
 own soul, was but a secondary object. The 
 lamb of the sacrifice, indeed, she was, while the 
 priest and the formalist stood coldly or hypocrit 
 ically by. 
 
 While the domestic services were proceeding, 
 the storm had increased to the most terrific 
 height. Sometimes the snow and rain mingled 
 together fell perpendicularly, and heaped itself 
 upon every door-step and upon every window- 
 sill, leaving there a virgin offering ; then a sud 
 den and violent gust from the east dispersed 
 these heaps and mingled the snow that had al 
 ready fallen with the descending sheets, and all 
 was a grand and indistinct mingling of the ele 
 ments. 
 
 The trees in the front yard were already load 
 ed, and with outstretched arms looked like 
 sheeted ghosts, come to repeat upon the exiled 
 Naomi the sentence of banishment pronounced 
 by living spirits. 
 
 The gusts of the storm rolled fearfully in the 
 chimney, and shook the windows, as sheets of 
 
442 NAOMI. 
 
 sleet and snow were hurled by the wind agamst 
 them. The few travellers in the streets wrapped 
 themselves closely in their cloaks ; but from eve 
 ry turning, and from every narrow lane, came a 
 blast that nearly blinded them, and a heavy wind 
 that nearly laid them prostrate. 
 
 As the prayers were finished, and those assem 
 bled in that room turned to look on each other 
 for the last time, every face was pale with an 
 guish. The servants sobbed, and Sambo, whose 
 poor old eyes were bleared with weeping, tot 
 tered towards Naomi and stood close behind her. 
 The ministers gave her their mournful, and per 
 haps, at this moment, their relenting farewell. 
 Did they recall the hour when, in that very 
 room, scarcely more than a year ago, they had 
 called her Naomi the beautiful, and entreated her 
 never to become flfara to them. They had now 
 been praying to the Almighty that she might not 
 be for ever a castaway, but even at the eleventh 
 hour like a brand snatched from the burning. 
 
 Naomi alone stood there in all the calmness 
 and beauty of innocence. No tear dimmed the 
 deep light of her eye, and no cloud rested upon 
 her serene brow. " My friends," she said, " let 
 no regrets follow my departure. I would fain 
 believe, that what you have done has been done 
 for conscience sake. Let us leave the issue with 
 God." 
 
NAOMI. 443 
 
 Mr. Wilson, who had been always secretly her 
 friend, now laid his hand upon her head, and 
 said, " The Lord forgive us if we have done 
 thee wrong, and remember not our sins against 
 his church and his people ! " 
 
 Mr. Aldersey s carriage was at the side door, 
 waiting to convey Naomi to the boat. Mr. Al- 
 dersey himself was preparing to accompany her ; 
 Faith also stood ready for this last sorrowful, 
 but short journey. Herbert had pressed always 
 nearer and nearer to Naomi. Their eyes had of 
 ten spoken, their hearts more often. Herbert 
 preserved a calm exterior, although the tempest 
 in his breast was like that which raged without. 
 Who does not remember to have seen a tempest 
 raging with such violence, that the surface of the 
 ocean has been kept calm and the billows from 
 rising, the contention of waves and winds 
 keeping the surface smooth ? Such was the con 
 flict in Herbert s breast, that a stern and iron 
 calm appeared on the exterior. 
 
 Naomi was ready to enter the carriage, but as 
 her step-father followed close behind, apparently 
 intending himself to render her this last service, 
 she turned and gave him one look. Whatever 
 there was in that look that penetrated to his in 
 most heart, he turned, and, retreating to the par 
 lour, made no effort to go further. Faith, with 
 
444 
 
 NAOMI. 
 
 the quick instinct of woman, motioned to Her 
 bert to take the vacant seat. He had, indeed? 
 determined before, that, within or without, no 
 power should separate him from Naomi till they 
 reached the vessel ; but now he instantly obeyed, 
 and placed himself by the side of Naomi. Then, 
 and not till then, their hands joined, and Faith 
 alone witnessed the anguished joy of that long 
 embrace. 
 
 Slowly, step by step, they proceeded to the 
 wharf. The streets were much blocked by 
 snow-drifts, and at every turn and every corner 
 they met a terrific blast, that drove the sleet 
 against the carriage-windows and shut out every 
 object but that of the white, accumulating snow. 
 To the lovers, this protracted and storm-beaten 
 transit, these few moments of blissful confi 
 dence, were a season of inexpressible happiness. 
 It opened a living fountain of joy in both their 
 hearts, from which was spanned across their tear- 
 filled sky the heavenly bow of promise, uniting 
 the bitterness of this parting hour with the sun 
 shine of future years. 
 
 As they sat clasped in each other s arms, Faith 
 the noble and true-hearted friend folded her 
 hands in inward prayer. That silent prayer was 
 perhaps the only one that reached the throne of 
 God, and drew down upon this perfect union of 
 
NAOMI. 445 
 
 their young hearts the bliss of perfect faith in 
 each other, and trust in God, that never failed 
 through long years of absence. 
 
 All too soon they reached the wharf. Dan 
 gerous as was the passage to the vessel, it was 
 for each of them a salutary fear, absorbing every 
 faculty and every thought, and leaving no place 
 for the anguish of parting. That, like the an 
 guish of death, was past ere the straining eyes 
 of Herbert or Faith were turned from Naomi s 
 fluttering garments as she ascended the side of 
 the vessel, and every outline was lost in the con 
 fused mingling of sleet and snow. 
 
 The last object that was visible to Naomi was 
 Sambo, standing upon the extreme end of Long 
 Wharf, his body bent forward, his white head 
 bared to the storm, and holding in each hand a 
 handkerchief, which he waved in token of his 
 farewell. Naomi had been calm till then ; but 
 this simple expression of the attachment of her 
 humble friend went straight to her heart, and 
 she burst into an agony of tears. 
 
CHAPTER XXXIV. 
 
 CONCLUSION. 
 
 THE next morning s sun, as though in mock 
 ery of the woe of the preceding evening, rose 
 upon a cloudless sky. The storm had ceased, 
 the winds had hushed themselves to repose dur 
 ing the hours of darkness, the black impenetra 
 ble cloud had rolled away, and when Herbert, at 
 the earliest dawn, looked out upon the bay and 
 the broad waters beyond, the vessel that bore 
 Naomi away had spread her white wings, and 
 fluttered now upon the extreme horizon. 
 
 The sun shone from a pale blue, serene, and 
 cloudless sky, over the broad fields of spotless, 
 new-fallen snow. The rain descending in the 
 latter part of the night had frozen in glittering 
 drops, and hung the whole earth with wreaths 
 of diamonds. How did this gorgeous splendor, 
 hollow and cold, and this soft, blue sky, that was 
 fitted to smile on the tenderest love, the purest 
 joy, how did they mock those mourning hearts 
 that bled inwardly, drop by drop, and that would 
 never cease to bleed till the anguish of years of 
 absence was lost in the joy of a reunion ! 
 
NAOMI. 447 
 
 That this reunion of the two young hearts 
 that have formed the principal point of interest 
 in my story did take place, at no very distant 
 day, we are assured by the family records and 
 the government archives of a neighbouring State. 
 Among those Quakers who came, six years after 
 the date of our humble narrative, to settle the 
 beautiful State of New Jersey, and to enjoy " its 
 liberal and paternal government," were Herbert 
 and Naomi Walton. 
 
 Naomi, after her return to England, associated 
 principally with the followers of George Fox 
 and William Penn. The more intimately she 
 became acquainted with the pure principles, the 
 holy lives, and the simple, but sufficient faith of 
 that persecuted, but noble sect, the more fervent 
 ly did she bless God that she had been able 
 while in New England to preserve the simplicity 
 of her faith, and to separate it from the irrational 
 and mischievous raving of those wild fanatics 
 with whom she had there been confounded. She 
 looked back, indeed, upon this infancy of her 
 religious life, as though she had been but a babe 
 in knowledge ; but the essential faith of the 
 Quakers, she had then, amid imprisonment and 
 oblocjuy, been able firmly to hold, and grapple it 
 to her heart and conscience, " The sensible and 
 constant direction of the spirit of God in man." 
 
448 NAOMI. 
 
 She had since added to this essential faith the 
 instruction and the graces of a full-grown Chris 
 tian. Humility continued to form the founda 
 tion of her character, upon which had been built 
 the beautiful proportions of Christian grace, form 
 ing an harmonious whole, lovely to look upon, 
 comforting and elevating to those who lived 
 within the shadow of her blessed influence. 
 
 And Herbert, his was a severer trial, to sus 
 tain unharmed the assaults that were made upon 
 the integrity of his faith, the constancy of his 
 love. But he, too, experienced the omnipotence 
 of truth. He waited patiently in the darkness, 
 tarrying for the dawn. Truth and justice came 
 at length. He waited not in vain. Found faith 
 ful to the last, I leave to my young readers to 
 imagine the bliss that attended his reunion with 
 Naomi. 
 
 THE END. 
 

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