LIBRARY 
 
 OF THE 
 
 UNIVERSITY OF CALIFORNIA. 
 
 OIR T OR 
 
 Received 
 Accession No. 
 
 c^r^. , / 
 
 Class No 
 

CORONATION 
 
 A STORY OF FOREST AND SEA 
 
 By E. P. TENNEY 
 
 BOSTON 
 NOYES, SNOW AND COMPANY 
 
 BROMFIELD STREET 
 I8 77 
 
COPYRIGHT, 1877, E. P. THNNHY. 
 
INTRODUCTORY. 
 
 WHEN I was a boy I read a book of missionary adven 
 tures in the South Seas. Night after night I dreamed of 
 
 "The coral groves, the shores of conch and pearl." 
 
 Midnight visions revealed to me the bottom of the sea, 
 caves paved with beautiful stones, bright colored shells and 
 growing coral, with walls and roof marked by delicate tints 
 of green and blue. I often imagined myself among palm 
 groves, fanned by breezes from the sea. 
 
 Three nights in succession, I dreamed of being oh ship 
 board with a missionary bound to some island parish. I 
 can never forget his face as last I saw it, and his wild 
 cry the last time I heard his voice. In calm weather the 
 ship sighted land in the night, and drifted ashore ; there was 
 no wind, but the swell setting towards the land, was irresist 
 ible. The ship, at about midnight, drove into a cave three 
 or four hundred feet deep, breaking away parts of the vessel 
 against each corner of the cave s mouth ; and then the top- 
 
iv INTRODUCTORY. 
 
 masts knocked the roof, and tore down fragments of over 
 hanging rock. No landing was possible inside the cave ; 
 black walls rose precipitous from the water. A lead dropped 
 astern showed twenty fathoms. The surf at the cave s 
 mouth was phosphorescent, and the breaking water all 
 around inside the cave was shining out of the darkness, as 
 if the margin of the sea was on fire. 
 
 Within this circle of ill-omened fire, and under overshad 
 owing darkness the rocking ship was slowly filling and sink 
 ing. Some of the passengers and crew were killed by the 
 fall of rocks and timbers. Others tried, after day break, to 
 escape in the boats, but were overwhelmed by the waves, 
 which broke heavily near land. One boat load escaped. 
 
 In my dream I was in the number of the saved ; and the 
 missionary s son, a lad of six, sat beside me ; but his father, 
 in trying to reach the boat, suddenly sank in deep water, as 
 if drawn down by some unknown force. He raised his 
 hands, and looking straight at me cried, "Save my 
 son ! " The agonizing cry awoke me. 
 
 I am to-day living in a dream. I have seen this mission 
 ary s son Peter come to my house. It was when I 
 lived in the parsonage, down the lane. Just such a lad as I 
 saw in the boat at the cave s mouth ! And he is the son of 
 a missionary. 
 
 This book is written for the lad Peter, to tell him the 
 story of the man to whom he owes his life. If I can per 
 suade him, in his adopted home among the crags of the 
 Cape within easy reach of unrivaled forest walks in the 
 
 
INTRODUCTORY. V 
 
 neighborhood of the sea, to live much in solitudes, to cher 
 ish the very highest aims in life, to be self-sacrificing, and to 
 be diligent in doing solid work for God and man, to walk 
 with God as his nearest Friend, and to rely on Him most of 
 all I shall care little whether any one else reads the book 
 or not. 
 
 This story is in respect to its most vital points a 
 true account of this lad s kinsman, and my most intimate 
 friend. As the years go by, I shall less heed the death of 
 him who was my comrade in early life, if I find this child 
 Peter growing up with those characteristics which will make 
 his life noble. And when I myself go down to sleep in the 
 silent valley, I shall not think that I have lived wholly in 
 vain, if this story of Cephas leads one human soul to a 
 higher appreciation of the comfort, spiritual quickening and 
 power to be gained by hours of sweet communion and holy 
 striving with the Lord, in those closets which God himself 
 has made in the solitudes of the earth. 
 
 Manchester, Massachusetts, August, 
 
CONTENTS. 
 
 I. Two BOYS IN ONE CRADLE ... i 
 
 II. THE PHANTOM OF TRAGABIGZANDA . 9 
 
 III. THE NORTH STAR 25 
 
 IV. CROOKED STICKS 46 
 
 V. THE PHANTOM HOUSE .... 60 
 
 VI. RISING FROM THE DEAD ... 83 
 
 VII. THE FISHING VILLAGE .... 102 
 
 VIII. AN OLD RED TRUNK . . . . in 
 
 IX. WHERE TO KEEP IT . . . . 121 
 
 X. STONE COVE 130 
 
 XL THE SHAGBARK 138 
 
 XII. COLD SPRING MEADOW .... 148 
 
 XIII. JACK S HILL 157 
 
 XIV. THE ENGLISH HELEN .... 163 
 
viii CONTENTS. 
 
 XV. THE ESSEX WOODS .... 169 
 
 XVI. A WALK TO NORMAN S WOE . . 179 
 
 XVII. SANDY POINT -. .... 191 
 
 XVIII. OLD HARBOR 206 
 
 XIX. AMONG THE ISLANDS .... 220 
 
 XX. A WALK IN THE RAIN . . . 234 
 
 XXI. MORE RAIN 249 
 
 XXII. MOUNT ANNE 261 
 
 XXIII. MOQUELUMNE HlLL 27 1 
 
 XXIV. THE LIVE OAKS 284 
 
 XXV. ERECTING THE AIR CASTLES . . 291 
 
 XXVI. THE EARTHQUAKE S SHOCK . . . 298 
 
 XXVII. THE WORK LAID DOWN . . . 312 
 
 XXVIII. BLACK HAWK TO BOULDER . . . 3 2 7 
 
 XXIX. HOUSE ISLAND . . . . 336 
 
 XXX. THE OLD NECK . . . ". -346 
 
 XXXI. ALONE IN THE FOREST . . . 3S 2 
 
 XXXII. THE PROPHET S MOUNTAIN . . . 355 
 
 XXXIII. CORONATION 3 6 4 
 
 XXXIV. THE BOY PETER 3^5 
 
CORONATION. 
 
 I. 
 
 TWO BOYS IN ONE CRADLE. 
 
 /CEPHAS mother and my mother traded cradles in 
 I our infancy, so that we were both rolled on the 
 ^^ same rockers. The old shell was sold at auction 
 to the almshouse keeper when the homestead was brok 
 en up ; of which we were glad, thinking that we should 
 stand a good chance to occupy that same settee-cradle 
 again in our second childhood. This infantile truck 
 was sold to my mother when the mother of Cephas 
 emigrated, taking her son to Nuntundale, where they 
 staid till the boy was thirteen years old ; he and I 
 never knowing all that time how near we were to being 
 brothers, so far as our early crib could make us so. 
 Meantime he had another brother born, who ran away 
 from home a little while before Cephas returned to 
 his native village. After this, for a few years, Cephas 
 2 
 
2 TWO BOYS IN ONE CRADLE. 
 
 lived near neighbor to me till he went away to school to 
 make ready for his life work. 
 
 In these years of later childhood and early youth 
 we stuck fast to each other, by day and by night, like 
 brothers. Perhaps he came to my mother s house in 
 the evening, and crept stealthily in at a back window, 
 as boys love secrecy, and then found his way to the attic, 
 where I had a bed of boards on a frame ; and we kept 
 awake to invent car-axles, and to tell no end of stories. 
 Or, if he left my bed and board, I sought him in the 
 early morning, as soon as night gave place to day. 
 There dangled from his window a long string, whose 
 inner end was tied to the great toe of his right foot ; 
 and when I pulled he woke, and we walked. All one 
 summer we tramped in the early morning. 
 
 A wild ravine just back of his father s house, led down 
 upon Pennacook brook, the Poor Farm interval, and 
 the world of the Merrimac. That river bottom with its 
 wide expanse of green was our world of foreign travel ; 
 and we wandered at will, as glad and full of comfort as 
 if it had been the Danube, Nile, Jordan, or Ganges. As 
 we first struck the borders of the brook, there was just 
 before us, on the right, a bluff crowded with towering 
 masts of pine. On the left, a narrow side ravine opened 
 with various forks, some far reaching, and all walled in 
 by steep and high banks clad with birch, hemlock and 
 pine. Tall willows, dome-like butternuts, and high- 
 reaching elms rose from the bottom of these valleys 
 upon the margin of rivulets, which, like tiny fingers of 
 the great river, were reaching thus far inland. Here we 
 
TWO BOYS IN ONE CRADLE. 3 
 
 made mud dams, built mills and railways, or climbed 
 the slopes, and gathered the leaves and red berries of 
 the mountain tea. The arms of an aged oak, upon the 
 brow of a hill, became to us a favorite resort ; or, we sat 
 with the squirrels upon the enormous arms of the great 
 oilnut tree, our feet dangling over the cold spring from 
 which we slaked our thirst. Again, we took the interval 
 path, and, in the hollow, back of the clay bank 
 " Observatory," which rises high above the river, we 
 found the old settlers road all overgrown. By this route 
 we went into sweet meadows, trampling on the unmown 
 grass and gladly bathing our feet in the dew^-till we 
 found the quicksand floor and precipitous sidfv of the 
 " Gulf," whose yawning mouth had swallowecpup many 
 fair acres of farm. 
 
 In autumn, our morning walks extended to the 
 " Sand-banks," where a horseshoe curve revealed a vast 
 expanse of river bottom, studded with old elms ; and 
 the distant horizon was glowing, upon all its heights, 
 with gorgeous banners of ripe leaves. After heavy 
 frosts, we ascended "Rattlesnake," climbed the big 
 trunks and arms of the chestnut and the ragged bodies 
 and smooth limbs of walnuts. Or, perhaps, we walked 
 about the shores of our Gennessaret ; a sweet wild lake 
 among the hills, whose wooded or shorn slopes green 
 with fir or grass, or yellow with corn, or red with maple 
 were fairer to us than any child s dream of Gallilee. 
 
 And we consecrated all these places by prayer, believ 
 ing that He who loved us in New Testament story still 
 loved us and walked with us ; and we loved Him 
 
4 TWO BOYS IN ONE CRADLE. 
 
 more than we did each other. And though, in child 
 like planning, we thought it needful to invent a new 
 language, the Maxdecroix, more barbarous and lawless 
 than that of any savage tribe, yet we knew, I believe, a 
 little of the language of a better and far country, and we 
 thought to use that in any event. It is only yesterday 
 that I revisited a blueberry pasture, where among the 
 tall fruit-bearing shrubs, I now know as then I did 
 not, Cephas plead hard with the Lord one day for my 
 own upbuilding in a higher life ; and he rather wondered 
 when we next met that I did not at once speak of a 
 great change in spiritual experience. I am certain, 
 whether or not his prayers were availing, that our talks 
 together as children helped me much in my attempt to 
 find the Way, the Truth, and the Life. 
 
 " Cephas," said I one morning in October, as I had 
 just saved my neck, tumbling out of a low walnut, 
 " What do you most care for in this world ? " 
 
 " That I may be unselfish," he answered, gathering 
 up his bag full of nuts. 
 
 " If that be the case," I replied, " it will be only fair 
 for us to begin by going round to Mr. B. s house to give 
 him half our walnuts. When we steal, it ought to be at 
 the halves." 
 
 But his conscience, like mine and like the conscience 
 of every true New England boy, was tough as a shag- 
 bark on this subject. We had no scruples about carry 
 ing home our spoils, after first visiting Mr. B. s cider 
 mill and using two straws at one bunghole. As we 
 took up the line of march homeward, my companion 
 
TWO BOYS IN ONE CRADLE. 5 
 
 turned to the smiling farmer B., who was holding out to 
 us both hands full of red sweets fresh from the orchard, 
 and said, 
 
 " If your boys, Mr. B., will come and shake our 
 swamp butternuts as thoroughly as we have your two 
 walnuts by the river, they will be even with us." 
 
 "They ll do it, no doubt; I ve trained them to it," he 
 
 said as he filled the top of our bag with apples. " This 
 
 is the law in nutting time, to let everybody have enough 
 
 , to keep his grinders busy till green corn comes round." 
 
 Then as we walked through the pines on our way 
 home, we were again busy with the thoughts we talked 
 on every day. For, every morning we had new words of 
 Wisdom to exchange as mottoes for the day ; with every 
 morning light having new light from the Word, and 
 new hints how we might open our hearts to Him, who 
 was always knocking and seeking to abide with us. 
 And every day we had stronger desires to be of use in 
 diffusing light and love. It seemed, in these early days, 
 that we might, sometime, go forward strongly in a life 
 of devotion to God and self-sacrifice for men ; but I am 
 shamed now when I think how Cephas outstripped me. 
 I had as good a chance as he to make the self-surren 
 der perfect. 
 
 "Cephas," said I, when the young pines, standing 
 thick and impenetrable, were screening us from the 
 house we had left, " we have come off with double spoil 
 this morning." 
 
 "Yes," he answered, throwing away the core of the 
 fourth purnpkin-sweet, " Mr. B. is thoroughly unselfish j 
 and I like him." 
 
6 TWO BOYS IN ONE CRADLE. 
 
 As we continued to demolish the pumpkins, i( 
 appeared that the mind of my companion was firmly 
 fixed on plans for doing good, which he had begun to 
 pursue, and which he chased like phantoms all his iife. 
 In pursuit of them, he was " mad " like Paul, and 
 " beside himself " like the Son of Mary. As we talked 
 together, in a little open space where sunshine and 
 shade mingled at our feet on the carpet of yellow pine- 
 needles, he drew out of his pocket a little scrap of 
 paper, well worn, which he had copied in the quaint 
 characters of the Maxdecroix, which only he and I could 
 read ; and I read, what I have since found to be the 
 words of a holy man of the thirteenth century : " Let 
 no one rebuke me if love forces me to go like a mad 
 man ! O Christ, in all things thou showest only love, 
 never art thou conscious of thyself." And Cephas 
 began in that very moment to hint of what seemed to 
 me the wildest dreams, and schemes impracticable, 
 revolutions which appeared to him as fundamental as 
 the new ideas of Bacon at sixteen. It was the first 
 time he had ever spoken so fully about his aims in life ; 
 and I confess that they made a great impression upon 
 me as being the very highest objects possible to man. 
 
 But I grew drowsy with hearing him, withal remem 
 bering our long jaunt and having a slight sense of the 
 fulness which comes by plenty of apples and new cider ; 
 and I went to sleep. When I awoke my companion 
 was gone, and I still kept my head upon his nut bag for 
 a long time, till he returned, looking certainly somewhat 
 weird and strange to me ; and after that, walking home 
 wards, scarcely a word was spoken. 
 
TWO BOYS IN ONE CRADLE. 7 
 
 I noticed that, as the months rolled on, there was, 
 somehow, coming to be a great gulf between us. Our 
 friendship was more intimate than ever, but a certain 
 chasm was widening, and I could see that in the interior 
 life he was getting far away from me. If he was not 
 more and more alone, yet I noticed it more that he had 
 hours of solitude whose secret was not given me ; and I 
 loved him too much to question him about them. 
 Sometimes he came to me seeming worn and exhausted, 
 with eye a little wild and face haggard. At such times 
 he was strangely still, though I could see that he loved 
 to be near me, and to be quiet with me. When we met 
 to walk, he appeared, at times, so full of life and 
 unlimited energy of body and mind that I was amazed. 
 Sometimes, I stood to look at him, when his eyes were 
 off me, to see if I could discover the secret of his 
 singular exaltation. In such moments he talked of the 
 castles he was building; although they were so ill 
 defined in outline that I obtained little idea of what 
 they really were, any more than I should have had the 
 notion of a fair palace from seeing painted windows, 
 and ornamental doors, and big foundation stones, and 
 pieces of statuary, flying through the sky. His own 
 boundless fertility in invention, and indomitable reso 
 lution in daring to attempt what was to me impossible, 
 and tireless industry in the painful steps between him 
 and his objects, were some of the impressions I 
 received from his talks, as we rambled over rough hills 
 or smooth meadows. And if an excuse offered for our 
 separating after such themes had been up, he would 
 
 
 
8 TWO BOYS IN ONE CRADLE, 
 
 easily slip away, though for my part I would have had 
 company longer. Sometimes I called him the Wild 
 Man ; but he always retorted by calling me the Tame 
 Man ; so that I did not use the epithet often, although 
 I often thought of it. 
 
 The next chapter relates one of the dreams which 
 occupied the mind of boy and man. 
 
THE PHANTOM OF TRAGABIGZANDA. 
 
 II. 
 
 THE PHANTOM OF TRAGABIGZANDA. 
 
 PATCHED trowsers and a blue cotton umbrella 
 paced up and down a short sand beach in the 
 rain. Occasionally there came forth a voice from 
 under the canopy, "A million might as well be two." 
 By and by the conclusion was reached that two millions 
 might be four. Then before the dark walk was fin 
 ished, " Two hundred millions," sounded out from the 
 cave of cotton. " Some old miser, like enough," said I, 
 as I watched him from under the railroad bridge near 
 by. I was a stranger in Nuntundale j and thinking this 
 a good opening for adventures in a unique country, I 
 followed the old fellow to his home. He turned out to 
 be Cephas, in full vigor of youth. 
 
 " Cephas," said I, "you are a surprise to me." 
 We sat up almost all night at the open fire, which 
 blazed or smouldered in his study from Thanksgiving 
 to Fast, doing as we used to do. Our laughter made 
 his little old house ring to the rafters ; while red apples 
 roasted themselves upon the hearth, and oilnuts opened 
 their shaggy shells for us. 
 
 When the night was far gone, I had found out much 
 
10 THE PHANTOM OF TRAGABIGZANDA. 
 
 of the man, whom I had not seen half a dozen times in 
 as many years ; and toward morning I looked with won 
 dering eyes on the stately fabric he was working on in 
 his afternoon walk. 
 
 His schooldays had been so broken up and shortened 
 by serious ill-health, that he had come into his work 
 poorly fitted for it. It had been again and again a 
 question whether he would ever get at any work at all ; 
 but he had finally walked and slept his way into so 
 much physical vigor as to enable him, after one or two 
 attempts elsewhere, to begin the business of experi 
 menting on the poor people of Tragabigzanda. He 
 talked to them on Sundays, and went about among their 
 homes on week-days, trying to do them good. Accord 
 ing to his own account of himself, his mind was raw 
 and undisciplined : he was unskilled in the use of lan 
 guage, his choice of words for extempore speech having 
 small range ; and his literary judgment was so poor 
 that great measure of chaff, considering the amount of 
 wheat, appeared, when he would fain mix the bread of 
 life for his people ; his ideas were so quaint that he was 
 called queer, when he sought the rather to be a power 
 among men ; he had by nature a style sufficiently per 
 verse and outrageous, requiring all his leisure for years 
 to mend it ; the use of his body in preaching was sin 
 gular and sometimes comical, and his elocution was all 
 at sea, the voice being as little under control as the salt 
 waves ; moreover, he was almost morbidly bashful, and 
 so varying in his feelings that it seemed, as he said, im 
 possible for him to arrive at any correct self-knowledge ; 
 
THE PHANTOM OF TRAGABIGZANDA. II 
 
 his judgment, also, in parochial affairs, greatly needed 
 the schooling of experience. No wonder, thought Ceph 
 as, that his people gave him a poor living ; it was, as 
 they both agreed, all that such services were worth. 
 
 But he was, also, to present him more perfectly, as I 
 must to defend him against his own self-accusations, 
 a man of great heart to love his people \ kind, and un 
 failing in good temper and genial humor ; of deep and 
 wide sympathy, and consuming zeal, delighting always 
 in self-sacrifice for others. Of untiring industry, he had 
 some degree of originality as well as quaintness in his 
 thinking, and some skill in the art of putting things. 
 More than all else, he was a growing man, with amazing 
 vitality, which could not be quenched, growing so in 
 cessantly that none could prophesy what he might be. 
 And what else there was about him, in his life purposes, 
 and in the spirit of the man, which drew me more and 
 more to him, and which made him gain the mastery 
 over me, will appear. It must be said, however, that 
 one of the most noticeable traits in the character of my 
 friend, at least at this period of his life, was humility, 
 and a self-depreciation which was in some measure re 
 moved with the growing self-knowledge of later years. 
 At this time, his self-knowledge seemed to be almost 
 wholly limited to a discernment of the things in which 
 he needed mending, and the ways in which he could 
 best do the mending ; and his purpose to do this work 
 was always uppermost in his mind. To me it appeared 
 to be the most hopeful and mentally healthy sign about 
 the man, that his worst faults ^found out, not by my 
 
12 THE PHANTOM OF TRAGABIGZANDA. 
 
 subsequent inquiry among his people, but from his own 
 lips, that night, between bites at baldwins and butter 
 nuts. 
 
 " But how came I in the ministry," he asked, " with 
 so shabby a preparation, even in the partial course I 
 took ? " 
 
 " I feel satisfied," he continued, in answer to his own 
 question, " that no lad preparing for the ministry ought 
 to go to school, even half a dozen years, without more 
 drill in writing and speaking English, which is the busi 
 ness he is to follow all his life." 
 
 He had been, it appeared, turning this topic in his 
 mind till he had reached fixed notions. He believed 
 that the only way to educate a young man to become a 
 writer and a speaker, is to make the study of the 
 English language its vocabulary and its models of 
 style and the drill of writing and speaking far more 
 prominent in the educational curriculum than it had 
 been in his own schooldays. I found late in the night 
 that I had stumbled upon a full-grown heretic on the 
 subject of the education that is to be. He had become 
 fully possessed with the notion that his pet scheme was 
 the very one, which would, some day, bring a new era 
 of power to the Christian church. While he claimed 
 that this new educational machinery would work well 
 for other pursuits in life, he especially insisted upon it, 
 that if one generation of pastors could enter work after 
 a twelve years course such as he contemplated, the 
 efficiency of the rank and file of the ministry would be 
 doubled ; and that if t 1 /? scheme could gain firm foot- 
 
THE PHANTOM OF TRAGABIGZANDA. 13 
 
 ing, English literature and oratory would at once rise 
 with a power never known before. This idea had been 
 seized upon with all the energy of his nature, and he 
 had been planning in detail a full course of education 
 in various departments, to be endowed by the million. 
 And, singularly enough, he had come to believe that 
 he would personally see such an enterprise fairly set 
 afloat ; and more wonderful yet, the ragged fellow ex 
 pected to be the founder of the funds by which to 
 crowd the world with the solid buildings of what were 
 now merely educational castles in the air. 
 
 We prayed over the business, covered the fire, rolled 
 ourselves in blankets and lay down upon a buffalo skin 
 in front of the chimney s mouth, and were soon asleep, 
 dreaming about several million dollars put to the work 
 of training generations of men, who will write and 
 speak the English language with skill and effectiveness 
 not yet seen except in the visions of that February 
 night. 
 
 Month after month passed, till June came ; but the 
 weeks seemed years, for I was wearily, and a little impa 
 tiently, candidating in such prominent pulpits in Nun- 
 tundale as I could get into, hoping to hear a loud call ; 
 meantime, hearing scarce a word from the still small 
 voice of the Holy One ; and, what at the time I felt 
 worse about, hearing not an invitation to appear a 
 second time, though my candidating sermon gave a 
 strong hint^that I desired it, bearing for its motto the 
 legend that certain Gentiles "besought that these words 
 
14 THE PHANTOM OF TRAGABIGZANDA. 
 
 might be preached to them on the next Sabbath." I 
 began to wish that I had been educated at one of 
 Cephas colleges, for it came to me a round dozen 
 times that my voice was just horrid, and my hands and 
 arms were mere elbows and thumbs, and that my style 
 of composition was barbarous ; though I was consid 
 ered eminently sound in the faith and a man proper if 
 not powerful. I had not seen much of Cephas, and 
 as I was thinking more about a desirable parish than 
 about making a desirable parson, I almost forgot to ask 
 my friend just how he expected to found his new 
 education. 
 
 One morning, however, as I took up my kids and tall 
 hat and slender cane to go to see one more man in my 
 place hunting, Cephas asked me to accompany him to 
 the Cathedral Rock, one of the most notable objects in 
 that part of wild and wonderful Nuntundale. Going 
 out of his ample study, and hunting over all the rest 
 of the house, which comprised only one room, the 
 kitchen and woodshed combined, we found two stout 
 sticks, two rough jackets, and two hard crusts. We 
 then stood out upon the big flat stone at the front door, 
 and lifted up our eyes to see the wide tracts of dark 
 silent woods through which our morning tramp would 
 take us. 
 
 Our path led under the great oak a little below the 
 house, whose arms had wrestled with the winds of more 
 than three hundred winters. Now it was lifting to the 
 sky its myriad hands full of fresh leaves ; calling upon 
 all who passed that way to admire the beauty of its 
 
THE PHANTOM OF TRAGABIGZANDA, 15 
 
 foliage in early summer. We entered directly upon a 
 by-road, flanked with fallen walls of stone and a wild 
 bordering of shrubbery and small trees. Crossing a 
 solitary plain of great width, we came, upon low lands, 
 where our feet were first embedded in mosses, and then 
 we sprang from one quaking tussock to another, till we 
 reached the foot "of a sharp ascent gemmed with flow 
 ers. The slope was crowned by a precipitous wall half 
 a hundred feet high, adorned with ferns and brakes 
 growing in the crevices all over its face ; green vines 
 clambering far up from the bottom ; and above, sprites 
 of spruce came to the edge of the cliff. Going up by a 
 watercourse to the right, we were now in a dense fir 
 forest ; through whose thickets and dark paths, we 
 were to seek for the sight and sound of the sea, on the 
 other side of the Cape. I began, at about this time, 
 fingering first my gold chain, to tease my friend upon 
 the way he had used the world in the use of old 
 clothes ; for he looked too shabby to find a place, if 
 any well-to-do church should ever hear his fame and 
 visit Tragabigzanda. I confess that I had been trying 
 to stir up in him a spirit of rebellion against living in a 
 small parish, with no prospect of money enough even 
 to get out of the Pauline bachelor estate, to say nothing 
 of having the comforts of life. We talked and walked 
 some miles, till we entered a little opening in the trees 
 made by a smooth ledge ; upon one side of it, just 
 where the rock was boldest, we saw a lone standard of 
 white pine rising high above all other trees : this was 
 the evergreen tower Cephas had pointed out to me, as 
 
1 6 THE PHANTOM OF TRAGABIGZANDA. 
 
 one of our waymarks, when we stood on his flat door- 
 rock. Seeking a shady place, we stretched ourselves 
 upon the rock bed, and looked upwards to the head of 
 the mast, just now bending a little, as its full topsails 
 caught the wind. 
 
 " You are not yourself," said my friend, turning half 
 over and placing his hand in mine. "Your boyhood 
 faith and unselfish purpose have been somehow lost in 
 these years of our separation. Did you learn false 
 notions of unholy men in the schools ? " 
 
 " The school of observation shows me that ministers 
 need to be sharp," I answered. 
 
 I acknowledge that the words he read did not sound 
 to me as they did in my childhood : " The Lord is my 
 Shepherd, I shall not want." I felt a little like com 
 menting upon it, in a spirit not full of perfect trust ; for 
 I remembered the pinching poverty of certain aged 
 pastors, or their widows and little ones. 
 
 "When I sent you without purse and scrip and shoes, 
 lacked ye anything? And they said, Nothing." When 
 Cephas read this text, I said, "I believe your own 
 experience will, some day, show that you ought to have 
 earned in youth a support for old age. When the Lord 
 promises to provide, he intends to provide by using 
 your good sense in looking out for yourself. If you 
 expect provender in later years, you must use sound 
 judgment in making hay during the sunshine of youth 
 and middle life." 
 
 Cephas rose at once to his feet, and, stepping up to 
 the big tree, put his back against it, saying, " I feel as 
 
THE PHANTOM OF TRAGABIGZANDA. 17 
 
 though I had the North Pole at my back ; my backbone 
 is stiffened by it. I am of firm conviction that I shall 
 bless this world with money by the million, and it is 
 my serious purpose to do it." 
 
 We had come by compass from the unnamed cliff to 
 this royal pine ; and now we entered an obscure trail 
 leading through low lands, and pushed on to find our 
 noonday halt. I had not been in such a gloomy forest 
 since the nights, when, as boys together, we sometimes 
 wandered about by moonlight for miles over the " Dark 
 Plains." The pine growth was so thick as to shut out 
 the sun at noon, making it twilight at midday. The 
 mystery and desolation of this wide-spreading reign of 
 darkness and dampness finally gave place to a burnt 
 belt, which we crossed, picking our way amid tree stems 
 and shrubs, scorched and blackened. Sometimes we 
 climbed upon an immense fallen trunk or mounted a 
 big boulder, and looked over the dreary landscape to 
 see where our lost path ought to lie and, at last, our 
 vision was gladdened by the sight of two low bald hills 
 in the distance, between which we must pass. Finding 
 a flat rock, upon which two charred trunks had tumbled 
 criss-cross, we made a fire and lunched. The sun was 
 hot enough to broil us, but we were hungry and must 
 eat ; and my friend said it was wicked to eat a lunch 
 out of doors without a fire. So we gathered up 
 scorched wood enough to lay a roof where the logs 
 crossed each other, and under its black shade we 
 spread ourselves and our table, having the fire to the 
 leeward, just near enough for company ; and we threw 
 
 
 
1 8 THE PHANTOM OF TRAGABIGZANDA. 
 
 the crumbs of our crusts into the jaws of the hungry 
 flames. 
 
 " My mother," said Cephas, " has an heirloom china 
 platter which cost eight dollars ; and it has been in her 
 family so long, that, if the money had been put at com 
 pound interest, it would now amount to more than six 
 ty-five thousand dollars ; it is not very old either. And 
 I am a firm believer in working miracles by compound 
 interest." 
 
 " Ho ! Ho ! " said I. " Here is your college ! " 
 
 "Exactly," he answered, not in the least discon 
 certed by my tone. 
 
 And then he went on to tell me, how, when he was a 
 boy, he had thought over this compound interest busi 
 ness one summer morning in bed, the idea dawning 
 upon him with the day dawning; and he then and 
 there determined to found a Training School for minis 
 ters, with a twelve years course, in which, for the whole 
 period, nearly one-half the time and energy should be 
 given to drill, having for its direct end the proper ex 
 pression of thought in speech and writing; leaving the 
 remainder of the curriculum well rounded in its range 
 of studies, and not necessarily at variance with that of 
 many schools now established : this notion of develop 
 ing to the utmost the ability to express thought was the 
 the vital one. And he had now fully elaborated a plan 
 for a university on the same fundamental basis: he 
 believing that men in all departments of life may be 
 benefited by learning to express what ideas they have ; 
 and that an educational system, which makes this idea 
 
THE PHANTOM OF TRAGABIGZANDA. 19 
 
 more prominent than anything else, will best meet the 
 wants of the world, affording as thorough discipline 
 as any existing curriculum, and securing a far higher 
 degree of power in using what men know or may come 
 to know. And my friend was now confidently expect 
 ing that enough men of good sense would be found in 
 the world to take care of some trifling sum of money 
 that he might set apart for this purpose, which in two 
 centuries would amount to a hundred million dollars, or 
 as much more as might be thought desirable, if the 
 time should be extended. He was so fully persuaded 
 of the importance of the principle he advocated, that 
 it seemed to him absolutely certain to become ulti 
 mately the leading educational theory; while he sup 
 posed the matter of one or two centuries, more or less, 
 would be of little account, if only the idea should get 
 good root upon this planet and bear fruit through the 
 scores of thousands of years in which Christ s peace 
 will prevail. 
 
 "Three hundred dollars," said Cephas, soberly, "will 
 in three hundred years amount to more than three hun 
 dred and fifty million dollars." 
 
 And then it flashed upon me that I had heard that 
 sentence before. I remembered that he had spoken of 
 it when we were boys building saw-mills in the pasture. 
 It was a boy-phantom, now a giant, a phantom still. 
 
 "Educational reformers are as thick as mosquitos 
 upon a summer s night," said I to myself, banging 
 away with a burnt club to kill one winged insect whose 
 song at that moment annoyed my ear. " And here is 
 
20 THE PHANTOM OF TRAGABIGZANDA. 
 
 another bloodthirsty wretch whetting his sword for an 
 attack on time-honored customs." 
 
 I made, however, no audible reply to Cephas arith 
 metical statement, but silently pointed toward the still 
 distant hills. 
 
 When we climbed the highest peak, the salt air greet 
 ed us ; and we looked down upon a little beach and cove 
 lying close under our feet. Hardly half a mile on the 
 other side of the cove stood the Cathedral Rock. The 
 bank of the ocean, at this point, is, for a considerable 
 distance, a hundred and fifty feet high. This crag 
 makes a corner in the coast line ; presenting a square 
 side toward the cove two hundred feet in length \ and 
 then, having made the corner, showing a square front 
 of a hundred feet toward the open sea ; beyond it, the 
 bank falls away somewhat, being lower and less pre 
 cipitous. The end of the Cathedral, which looks out 
 upon the sea, has an arched doorway or entrance, twen 
 ty-five feet wide and eighty feet high, and within it a 
 dark shadow, as if it were a cave s mouth. Upon the 
 long side of the Cathedral next the cove is an arched 
 grotto a hundred feet wide, lying low as if its base were 
 deep in the sea. The top of the Cathedral is crowded 
 with fir trees, rank and green ; though, upon the very 
 verge, there are some dead and white, with stems twist 
 ed and roots torn out by old storms or by the crumbling 
 of turf and rock on the brink. We made quick time 
 down the bank, seized a fisherman s boat throwing 
 out his lobster nets and the tide being low, we were 
 soon in the cavern, penetrating far. I was handling 
 
THE PHANTOM OF TRAGABIGZANDA. 21 
 
 the oars ; and my friend pulled out a roll of paper 
 from his pocket, saying, 
 
 " This is my last will and testament, which I have 
 worked upon many months ; by which I am to found 
 the school that is to be." 
 
 I splashed a little cold water on him with one oar, 
 and then jumped out of my clothes into the freezing 
 brine. The founder of the college merely cooled his 
 head and bathed his feet. Then we turned homeward ; 
 hurrying over the black acres, and through the dark 
 pines, till we reached the ledge, from which, we could 
 see the Tragabigzanda parsonage. We looked down 
 upon infinite forest leaves, gently moving in the wind 
 and glittering in the light of the descending sun. 
 Meantime, I had interposed all manner of objections 
 to Cephas educational project, only to find him bear 
 ing me down with a lofty enthusiasm, and breaking 
 through the obstacles I suggested, like an elephant 
 brushing through cobwebs. His faith was firm and his 
 manner emphatic. And I soon found that I might as 
 well try to pour the Amazon through a pipe stern, as to 
 compress him into what I supposed to be the channel 
 of possibility and good sense. He had anticipated 
 every objection and had an answer ready. He expect 
 ed difficulties, and quoted the Bhagvat Geeta to me, 
 " Every undertaking is involved in its faults as the fire 
 in its smoke." My words were against him only like a 
 storm bombarding the rocky coast. No mountain tow 
 ering out of the sea seemed so grand to me, as this 
 patched parson with his colossal ideas. I was walking 
 
22 THE PHANTOM OF TRAGABIGZANDA. 
 
 by the side of one who believed that he was to work a 
 great revolution in the world. 
 
 We crossed the swamp just at nightfall, and came out 
 upon the plain in time to look back and see the lower 
 part of the forest deepening shadows, while one or 
 two of the highest elevations were touched with the 
 fires of the setting sun, and glowing like watchtowers 
 of the wilderness. Before reaching home, we heard 
 the whippoorwill, and we saw a little meadow sending 
 up its mists after the day s heat. When we again stood 
 upon the flat doorstep, looking back into the star-lit 
 darkness toward the forest, I took my friend s hand, 
 saying, 
 
 " If your plan is so rational as you seem to think, it 
 is probable that the common sense of mankind will 
 find it out and adopt it, before two hundred years are 
 gone." 
 
 And he quietly replied, "Things are looking that 
 way ; and it will come about, I trust, within two hun 
 dred years." 
 
 After bread and milk, I went out to pace up and 
 down in front of the cabin before turning in. And I 
 thought to myself, " It is certainly better to be poor 
 and unknown, and to have a noble and unselfish aim in 
 life, even if it is impracticable, than to live as I do, 
 selfish and place hunting in the name of God, and 
 contemptible in my own eyes." 
 
 A long while before it was day, my companion 
 slipped away in the darkness ; but returned again some 
 time after the sun was up, with a strange glow upon his 
 
THE PHANTOM OF TRAGABIGZANDA. 23 
 
 face, though, when his eyes were turned, I could see 
 that some mighty agitation still left a watermark upon 
 his features. Then I remembered how much he loved 
 to be alone, when he was a little child. 
 
 As the years went by I learned that this idea of a 
 New Education was nourished in lonely walks, so that 
 the whole notion was a true child of the closet. This 
 pastor held in contempt places and companions, save 
 solitude and the Infinite God. But in such place and 
 such Company, he plead for a ministry, which would 
 prove better fitted to grapple with men. Stumps in 
 clearings, and great rocks by the sea, beaches and 
 brooks, round backed or ragged hills, and quiet walks, 
 were the places where he cried to God for good sense 
 in setting on foot this pet project. In the long daily 
 walks, or tramps of days together, this phantom rose 
 and claimed a place in his petitions : and the day 
 dream was tempered by the Word ; and it seemed the 
 more likely to become real after he had plead with the 
 Lord about it. With such an Alliance, he appeared to 
 be impelled by a thousand forces for carrying forward 
 his purpose. 
 
 I have at hand many bits of paper by which I am 
 able to follow this man into his romantic closets, in 
 which he climbed upward, as if 
 
 " By invisible stairs ascending and scaling the heavens." 
 
 As chapels and churches are sometimes adorned with 
 man s highest art, so this poor parson in his hours of 
 devotion was surrounded by visions of beauty. And 
 
24 THE PHANTOM OF TRAGABIGZANDA. 
 
 these pictures pass before my eyes like a panorama of 
 ancient ascetics in holy hermitage. 
 
 Here was, for example, a man who sometimes went 
 away to a wooded island a little distance off the Traga- 
 bigzanda coast, that he might be alone with God. He 
 would often row strongly over a heavy sea, and get into 
 the thick shade of oak, walnut, cedar or pine ; and 
 there spread out before the Lord his college papers, 
 and wet the rocks with his tears in such agony of 
 prayer that he could hardly speak. Then he would 
 open his Bible under those leaves dripping with salt 
 spray, and look at it, as if in the face of the sun, till 
 his darkness gave place to heavenly light. And whether 
 or not his prayers availed for others, they were an 
 swered in himself, and there was certainly one minister 
 who received a new education. It was mental agitation 
 of this sort which gave him constant freshness of feel 
 ing, and new plans for usefulness, and a new life upon a 
 higher plane ; so that he was always ascending. 
 
 The most beautiful vision which my friend saw in all 
 these days, was that Castle in the Air he was building. 
 Whether he was threading the forests, looking out from 
 the hills, floating on the waves, pacing the beach, 
 tramping the deep snow or lying down in it, hidden in 
 a storm, or traveling across the country against the 
 northwest wind on a heavy crust, he was looking for 
 this fairy palace rising from its foundations and sharply 
 figured against a summer or winter sky. 
 
THE NORTH STAR. 25 
 
 III. 
 
 THE NORTH STAR. 
 
 THE lonely house of the Tragabigzanda parson 
 was my tying up place for some weeks. During 
 this time I was so occupied here and there, that 
 I did not fairly unearth another of the peculiar here 
 sies of my friend till one evening, in this wise. The 
 west wind had been bringing heat from the interior 
 down to the coast all day, and I had hardly ventured 
 out of the house. But when, toward night, I looked 
 out upon the cool shadow of the old oak upon the 
 green grass, I took ^Eschylus from the study table, and 
 sought the shelter of those long arms, which were 
 stretching out on every side of the great standard like 
 the beams or rafters of a vast hall. Reading aloud, I 
 had come upon the eighty-fifth line of Prometheus, 
 
 * " the strange portent of the talking oaks," 
 
 when I heard a voice from the tree tops. 
 
 "You will get cold from the dewfall, if you don t 
 
 look out." 
 
 And then a moment after, " Look out ! " and down 
 
 came a rubber blanket, with "Spread that under 
 
 ^ OF 
 
26 THE NORTH STAR. 
 
 you." And then, in a moment more, I saw Cephas 
 coming down a rope by hand from his lofty study in 
 the top of the tree. 
 
 " You would go," said he, as he touched ground, " a 
 thousand miles to see a man spin himself down a thou 
 sand feet of precipice, uncoiling the rope from his own 
 bowels. Look then at a spider lowering himself from 
 the limb of a tree to the earth." 
 
 Lying upon our backs we punched each other s ribs 
 with every new joke, till one by one the stars over our 
 heads were all in place. Then my companion turned 
 to me soberly, asking, 
 
 " Do you see the North Star ? " 
 
 "Yes." 
 
 " Did I ever tell you what it means to me ? " 
 
 " No." 
 
 "Let me tell you, then. You remember I took a 
 short trip to California after leaving the seminary. I 
 landed on a winter evening, and made at once for a 
 Presbyterian church to whose pastor I had a letter of 
 introduction. It was the night of his prayer-meeting, 
 and to it I went. There was a big sand hill close by 
 the meeting-house, reaching half way to the eaves ; and 
 I rilled my shoes with sand climbing up its soft 
 sides before going into the meeting. I kneeled upon its 
 summit, thanking God for safe carriage over the seas, 
 and there consecrated myself to God s service in Cali 
 fornia. As I looked up, I saw that the firmament, in 
 this clear atmosphere, was nearer than ever before. 
 And I took the near North Star as witness to my dedi- 
 
THE NORTH STAR. 27 
 
 cation to the work on that coast. But serious sickness 
 soon compelled me to return home. I consoled my 
 self, however, with the thought that I should speedily 
 go back. It is still my leading purpose to go as soon 
 as I can. Night after night, the North Star reminds 
 me of my vow. 
 
 And then he told me how he first asserted his pur 
 pose to become a missionary at three years old, before 
 he could speak the long word plainly. His mother, he 
 said, led him, from his earliest memory, to believe that 
 he was God s child, that he must have no will of his 
 own, but always ask his Heavenly Father what to do, 
 and then do it unflinchingly. He had once thought of 
 being a foreign missionary; but concluded he was 
 better fitted for the home work, in which he supposed 
 it possible to deny himself as much, and to work as 
 hard, as if he were to go among pagans. 
 
 Whether or not I failed to appreciate my friend s 
 mission zeal I do not now remember. I recollect, how 
 ever, that it was quite early when he proposed to hang 
 up for the night. Seizing his knotted rope, he swung 
 himself upon one of the big branches of the oak, and 
 pulled a hammock from a high pocket in the trunk, and 
 I was soon suspended in it from two contorted boughs. 
 Cephas made a bed-chamber of his study, high up the 
 trie tree, sleeping securely in an old comforter upon the 
 board floor. I could not help screwing my head around 
 to see whether I was in range of the North Star, lest I 
 should be made mad by it. I saw it eyeing me sharply. 
 
 "This North Star," said I to myself, "I always 
 
28 THE NORTH STAR. 
 
 thought a sober reality ; but ten to one it is only a 
 phantom, belonging to this Tragabigzanda parson. 
 The great bear is only a wild goose he is chasing over 
 the earth and through the heavens." 
 
 I recalled to mind that when Cephas and I were 
 boys together, he was full of wild missionary projects ; 
 which was one reason why I called him the Wild Man. 
 
 I was waked by the twittering of birds at daybreak ; 
 and when the sun shot his beams over the horizon, I 
 turned out of bed. It was quite late when my friend 
 came down from his roost. He found me bending over 
 the well-curb, looking at the picture on the surface of 
 the water, blue sky and maple branch and my face, 
 and around the border, the reflected circle of moss- 
 covered stones. I was wishing a white cloud would 
 sail over my deep mirror to perfect the view. The first 
 intimation I had that Cephas was up was the appear 
 ance of his face in the bottom of the well as he bent 
 over the curb opposite me. 
 
 " Good morning, merman," said I, without looking 
 up. 
 
 " Good morning," answered the apparition ; and by 
 his skill in ventriloquism the voice seemed to come from 
 the depths below. The next instant the fall of a 
 pebble upon the smooth face of our morning mirror 
 dashed it into pieces, and the circles had it their own 
 way after that. 
 
 " Do you remember," I asked, " that bit of meadow 
 where the mist hung, on the evening of our return from 
 
THE NORTH STAR. 29 
 
 the Cathedral ? That is the place where I want to go 
 this afternoon, to follow up the brook." 
 
 " Go this morning," he answered. " Do you not 
 know enough about woods to walk in the morning in 
 hot weather ? They are always cool in the first part of 
 the day ; but when the heat once gets in, just after 
 noon, it .is sweltering hot, sometimes worse than outside, 
 for there is no air stirring." 
 
 "How about your studies? " said I. 
 
 "Never you fear. I ve worked three hours this 
 morning, while you were combing your hair into my 
 well." 
 
 After eating a crusty, bachelor breakfast, we walked 
 through a sparse growth of low pitch pines half a mile 
 toward the unseen brook. We first heard it rippling 
 over its uneven bed, and then saw it flashing in the 
 sunlight. Our ramble led us through a grove of red 
 maples ; then into the sweet and flowery meadow, where 
 nature had raised grass for many centuries, never dis 
 turbed by the haymakers. Entering the wood again, 
 we had to clamber up a steep bank, down which the 
 roaring brook came in short cascades, with little pools, 
 and quick water between them. Here the growth was 
 beech. The trees on the upland reached high, and 
 there was little underbrush. One venerable trunk, 
 growing upon a platform of broken ledge somewhat 
 higher than the average ground, had so worked its 
 roots as to get into rich soil, and the branches which 
 rose above the tops of the other trees reached out into 
 the genial sunlight on every side; those arms were 
 
30 THE NORTH STAR. 
 
 noticeably long which had right of way over the brook. 
 A secret spring was pouring its precious drops down 
 the ledge, through the brakes and mosses which almost 
 concealed the jagged forms of the rocks; and at the 
 foot of the shattered ledge the waters were dark and 
 deep. 
 
 As we came up, I saw a trout leap ; but it was too 
 early to think of dinner, and we had no great liking 
 to trout four hours out of the water. Taking a book 
 from my pocket, I secured a good position, not to read 
 but to watch the play of the fishes, while Cephas should 
 study a little more on his next Sunday s sermon. Sev 
 eral arms of the beech had interlocked and grown into 
 each other, after the manner of the tree, and at two or 
 three points presented fair seats to cross-legged clergy 
 men*. The Tragabigzanda parson crossed his legs 
 where two branches crossed another at a favorable 
 angle, so near the body of the tree that he could lean 
 his back against its smooth bark; and he seemed so 
 much at home that I believed he had been there before. 
 Becoming greatly excited in my business of feeding the 
 fishes, I did not much notice the occasional half sup 
 pressed grunting sounds that came down from the tree, 
 as fragments of sermon were, one after another, pulled 
 out of the parson s pocket, and run over, to see whether 
 they could be inserted into the mosaic he was compos 
 ing. But he evidently became excited at the very 
 moment I did. The spotted side of an unusually large 
 trout was flashing on the surface of the pool, when a 
 voice came very emphatically out of the tree, " Who- 
 
THE NORTH STAR. 31 
 
 soever will be chief among you, let him be your 
 servant." And this comment : " The Christian ideal 
 is a life of unthanked self-denial for the sake of others." 
 
 I looked up, but the reader seemed to have spoken 
 out unconsciously, and I said nothing. I saw no more 
 flies or fish. What Cephas said, I had once expressed 
 in substance in one of my sermons ; and it evidently 
 made a good impression. I had thought of it as an 
 elevated sentiment, not as a rule of life. There was 
 something in Cephas tone which made me think that 
 he believed it should be reduced to practice. 
 
 Following up the stream in all its capricious wind 
 ings, we talked, hardly hearing the gurgling of the 
 waters among old roots under the bank, or the rush of 
 the current over beds of gravel and polished ledges. 
 Once more I put in the suggestion, always in my mind, 
 that a man of so much ability as I really believed 
 Cephas to be at bottom ought to look about among 
 vacant pulpits to find a fit sphere. I wished that the 
 elements of power in him could be developed in an 
 appreciative parish. But I did not say . much. His 
 whole nature was aroused, and no mountain stream 
 ever swept on so irresistibly as he. 
 
 " Lean hard toward the side of self-sacrifice, was 
 my mother s motto," said Cephas, taking my arm, and 
 coming to a halt in the narrow trail. " Mission work is 
 the noblest work now in the world. Burmah is better 
 than Boston, according to Dr. Judson. And I would 
 rather be in China or New Zealand than in Chicago or 
 New York, unless it be true that the paganism of our 
 
32 THE NORTH STAR, 
 
 great cities is worse than that of far countries. The 
 home missionary work in our western territories certain 
 ly offers more honorable service than any other part of 
 this country; for there only is it possible to lay the 
 foundations of many generations." 
 
 "I hope," said I, "that you prize your mental gifts 
 too highly to throw away your life in work that some 
 one else can do as well as you. This living in the sad 
 dle, and devoting one s life to the petty details of new 
 organizations can be done by those not fitted like your 
 self to be a great light in the golden candlestick which 
 illuminates the east." 
 
 " I would invoke a curse," he replied, "upon the man 
 who makes his studies an excuse, as William Farel 
 cursed Calvin if he should put his studies between him 
 and God s call to Geneva." 
 
 Then we trudged along, the Wild Man still talking 
 strangely: 
 
 " I would throw up my studies any hour if God would 
 plant me in Japan. But there is no need to quit study 
 ing. The greatest mental power in this world will find 
 practical problems to grapple with in pagan lands or in 
 our home missionary work. There is need of all the 
 intellectual acumen that can be mustered. The 
 courses of studies to be pursued will give full swing to 
 the best minds on the planet. Paul was not too much 
 of a man to be a missionary." 
 
 And he went on in breathless haste to rehearse the 
 stale arguments I had heard in the seminary by Home 
 and Foreign Secretaries beating up recruits. 
 
THE NORTH STAR. 33 
 
 He said that his daily prayer was one with thai of 
 the missionary in the far East, who desired that the 
 Lord, in mercy to our theological seminaries, would 
 take one-half of all who yearly enter the ministry, and 
 by His Spirit drive them into the wilderness. I went 
 to thinking of something else, letting Cephas talk to 
 the end of the chapter. I merely remember that he 
 spoke of it as the glory of service in our border states 
 and territories that a man could study as much as he 
 pleased, and, besides taking care of his immediate par 
 ish, could have to do with establishing the first educa 
 tional systems in a new country, and do a great variety 
 of work upbuilding church and state. He believed 
 that a handful of men of ability and good judgment and 
 iron will and great spiritual power, could easily shape 
 all things according to their Lord s will. 
 
 Coining to a halt and sitting upon a fallen pine trunk 
 whose sap had decayed leaving the great heart still 
 sound, Cephas turned to me, and read from his pocket 
 Testament, the ideal of a good ministry, " To preach 
 the gospel in the regions beyond you, and not to boast 
 in another man s line of things made ready to our 
 hand." 
 
 As we still walked, it was more and more apparent 
 that a consuming passion for life in the border country 
 had full possession of him. 
 
 "If," said he, "a few persons, having the same 
 mind with the Lord Jesus, will go out into some almost 
 empty section of the continent, when the tide of immi 
 gration is pouring into it, they can take no inconsidera- 
 3 
 
34 THE NORTH STAR. 
 
 ble part of the globe and manipulate it with hard 
 hands, and lift over it the hands of prayer, and prepare 
 the way of the Lord. The frontiers of society can be 
 moulded for Christ by Christ-like men. In a little 
 while, this work of being first in the field will be all 
 over. Generations to come will have no such chance 
 as we, to do these first things. To have lived in this 
 missionary era of the church will be always an rio nork - 
 ble fame. But what should I say, if in such a time as 
 this, I should lie down and seek my own ease ? " 
 
 I saw that he was strongly moved, for tears came into 
 his eyes as he was speaking, and the tones of his voice 
 were such that I could not trifle with him or refuse to 
 hear him. There was much more of the same sort. 
 
 But he came to a sudden stand-still. We had now 
 reached an open space in the wood, where a birch 
 drooped over a still pool of the brook, and a heavy 
 grapevine climbing over it had formed an arbor. At 
 high-water mark were small blocks of stone, which had 
 been washed and scoured by the stream every spring 
 time. In full career as a western preacher, Cephas 
 stopped j and, first eyeing the sun, put on his coat, took 
 a pin from the lap, drew a fine line from his pocket, 
 and directly drew out of the pool two trout for our 
 dinner. We cooked them in an oven of heated stones. 
 Just as we finished the last potato, I opened the after 
 noon s business by asking, 
 
 " How comes it that you are here eating fish, when 
 you ought to be beyond the Sierra eating, or being 
 eaten by, grizzlies ? " 
 
THE NORTH STAR. 35 
 
 "Well, sir, to be frank with you," answered the old 
 Californian, " it is not my own fault, except that I am a 
 queer chicken. Says my deacon, * Parson, we are all 
 curls bugs. Now this is the only reason I am not on 
 the Pacific coast. I preached over here in Shad Village 
 near Pine Cove, for a year after I came home from the 
 West; and then I talked with the Home Missionary 
 Society about going back, and was encouraged to be 
 ready. I gave up my parish, boxed my goods, marked 
 them San Francisco, and bade my friends farewell on a 
 Monday expecting to sail on Saturday, when I was 
 suddenly dropped. Why, I never knew, till my recent 
 correspondence with western friends shows that in my 
 short residence on the Pacific slope, some of the wiser 
 brethren were impressed with the notion that I had 
 more zeal than discretion, and that my eccentricities, 
 growing out of me like the burr of a chestnut, were not 
 calculated to help my usefulness. At least, this is all I 
 can find out ; and my conference with the Home Mis 
 sion Secretaries rather confirmed them in the informa 
 tion they had from the distant coast. And I feel 
 confident that this decision is wise. I am raw, and my 
 judgment is not good. I am branded by nature with a 
 repulsive queer streak I can never be rid of, which, 
 however, I am always trying to subdue. And I am 
 now living in full hope that some day I ll be civilized 
 enough to become a home missionary. As I am now, 
 it would be too bad to turn me loose on the new 
 communities of the great and growing West. What 
 have they done to deserve such an infliction ?" 
 
36 THE NORTH STAR. 
 
 " Enough, stop there," I cried, punching my friend 
 with a burnt stick. " I think with all your missionary 
 zeal, you are excusable if you stay at home." 
 
 We had a little merriment over this defeat of the 
 great emigration scheme. Still, he was planning to go ; 
 bound to go, on his own hook, in due time. He had 
 been held back, and was likely to be, by poverty. He 
 preached for almost nothing ; and if he had anything 
 he gave it away as soon as he could. But unbound 
 ed faith had he, that he would sometime serve on 
 the Pacific coast. The North Star might dodge about 
 the heavens here and there, but he was fixed. Persist 
 ent as the Millerites, he made no fuss if he did not 
 succeed ; he merely made a new plan. He would in 
 his own mind appoint a time when he would be off, as 
 if this surely would be the time all the holy prophets 
 had agreed on; when the day had passed, he would 
 appoint another, and then another, and so on, mean 
 while minding his work. And, according to his own 
 account, he had enough to attend to. 
 
 " My school days," said he, " were so short, and my 
 mind is so ill-disciplined, and so meanly furnished, that 
 I would gladly live in obscure parishes here and there 
 till my studies are in better condition." 
 
 "My dear Cephas," I replied, "you are chasing a 
 phantom with a vengeance ; and you are a Wild Man 
 to follow it longer. The Lord does not want you in 
 California. You fly in the face of Providence. He 
 almost killed you, or rather left you to nearly kill your 
 self, when you were there ; but mercifully spared you 
 
THE NORTH STAR. 37 
 
 to get home. And then He stirred up prudent breth 
 ren and sagacious Secretaries to keep you from a 
 foolish attempt to return. Now if you are a wise man, 
 you will stay here and mind your business. Your 
 business is to study. And if you ever know anything, 
 and can say it, you will be useful. But you already 
 know enough to earn a fair living ; and you ought to 
 know enough to get it. Tie your camel and commit 
 it to God, said Mahomet. You say you trust God for 
 bread and butter ; but you must have good sense about 
 common things, or you will starve. Do you not know 
 that the very way in which God feeds his own, is to 
 make them turn to and help themselves ? You are not 
 helping those miserable Tragabigzandarians much by 
 living in rags and upon cold victuals. They can pay 
 you liberally, and they ought to do it; and it is your 
 duty as their minister to train them into the Christian 
 grace of liberality. If you were among a people hope 
 lessly poor, I would not say a word. As it is, you ought 
 to get more money out of them, or to clear out. The 
 world is wide, and it is your duty in some honest way 
 to get money enough to pay your debts, and to have a 
 home of your own. You are doing as much work and 
 as good as many a man with more pay. I am all 
 out of patience with you," I said, placing my hand 
 upon his shoulder and looking into his eyes ;" and if 
 you don t knock the North Star out of your evening 
 sky, it will turn into a comet and lead you nobody 
 knows where, but far enough away from your duty, I ll 
 warrant." 
 
38 THE NORTH STAR. 
 
 Cephas hereupon whistled ; and pointed me to a 
 woodchuck sitting at the mouth of his hole, into which 
 the creature dove instanter as I looked that way. 
 
 " He is a lean-looking chap," said I. " He must be 
 a parson." 
 
 " He will be fat enough next fall. I have no doubt 
 he is cared for by Providence," answered my friend. 
 
 And then, to shorten up our long talk, Cephas 
 tried to prove to me that if God cared only for those 
 who have good sense, nine-tenths of the world would 
 starve. 
 
 "They do," I asserted. 
 
 On the matter of training old parishes to liberality, 
 Cephas turned on me saying, " You are just the chap 
 to make these mean Yankees pay more ; and if there 
 is more to be had, you ll get it out of them. And there 
 are so many men of just your cut, that I have no fear 
 but the job will be done. As for me, I am going to 
 stand by the North Star. If I have not grit enough to 
 become a home missionary in spite of sickness and 
 timid friends, I ought to move into that woodchuck s 
 hole and stay with him. And I propose to do it. If I 
 can t handle my body so as to keep well, I will burrow 
 with these healthy creatures of the forest. And if I 
 can t knock myself into some shape, so as to have good 
 sense, some day, in managing money, then I will turn 
 fox and live on geese. But if the Lord ever gives 
 wisdom to those who ask it, and seek it, as he has 
 promised to do, then I am bound to have it, first or 
 last. And as surely as the pointers in the Dipper are 
 
THE NORTH STAR. 39 
 
 always aiming at the Polar Star, I ll keep on aiming to 
 do home missionary work on the border, whether or 
 not the Lord ever lets me go. I will live or die point 
 ing that way." 
 
 And he went on to reason that the best thing he 
 could do would be to plan to achieve something, 
 whether or not he should ever have the chance. He 
 believed that God had actually taken men, as contempt 
 ible as he, and made good use of them when they had 
 once given themselves willingly into His hands. And 
 he could, therefore, see nothing wild in calmly prepar 
 ing day by day for a life work in helping to lay the 
 foundations in new countries. His educational phan 
 tom; so far from occupying any considerable part of his 
 attention, was, I found, merely one incident in this 
 grand aim to do missionary work. He thought, indeed, 
 that such a scheme might be tried in a fair field, where 
 all experiments have equal chance ; but it was not a 
 hobby. If Cephas was fond of riding hobbies, he had, 
 not one, but a whole stable full of them. 
 
 We had long since turned off the main stream, and 
 followed up a little rivulet, M hich was now constantly 
 eluding our sight, though we heard its splashing on the 
 rocks underground. We traced it to its head, in a cool 
 fountain under a great rock near the crest of the hill. 
 No sooner had we passed it, than we heard the faint 
 roar of a distant torrent down the ravine we were about 
 to descend. But when we stood by its tumultuous 
 waters, amid all the uproar, I stood looking at my 
 friend. The sparkling light on the dancing waves did 
 
40 THE NORTH STAR. 
 
 not attract me so much as he. For I knew that he was 
 chafing like a giant in chains, eager to get away from 
 his beautiful home by the sea. In these enchanting 
 forest paths he was like a war-horse, waiting the sound 
 of the charge. And I could not help feeling that he 
 had a great object to live for, and that his unselfishness 
 was leading him to have the very highest aims in life. 
 
 The heat was now great, according to the promise of 
 my comrade, should we stay in the woods all day. 
 
 " I see a shower coming," said Cephas. 
 
 " Where away ? " I asked. 
 
 And he drew my attention to a peculiar nestling in 
 the foliage ; pointing to certain trembling leaves, and 
 the slight nodding of tall plumes of brake by the brook- 
 side, although the sky was clear. 
 
 Our route had been circuitous, and the nearest way 
 homeward was to follow the swift waters. The banks 
 were steep, and we were often wading from one side to 
 the other ; much of the time we walked apart, and 
 sometimes the stream divided us. Once it so hap 
 pened, that, I on the one side and he on the other, each 
 concluded to cross and walk on the other side ; we met 
 accordingly on a slippery rock, whose flat head kept 
 above the water. I took this opportunity to deliver to 
 Cephas a small oration I had been composing. 
 
 " Cephas." 
 
 "What?" 
 
 " The Greeks," I said, " peopled the margins of the 
 world, north, south and west, with peculiarly favored 
 beings ; while nearer at hand were monstrous giants 
 
THE NORTH STAR. \\ 
 
 and terrifying objects. Ever far off do we look for 
 pleasures, while at home we struggle with want and 
 vexations." 
 
 "You can not blame me, therefore," he answered, 
 " if I go west while you go east. You stay at home 
 with the bugbears, and I ll seek the distant paradise." 
 
 Twenty minutes later, climbing in Indian file up a 
 steep place to avoid a mass of fallen trees and old drift 
 on the bank, I being in advance ran my head into an 
 enormous spider s web. I caught the spinner and flung 
 him on his own thread toward Cephas, who was looking 
 at my face through the silky net into which I had 
 thrust it. 
 
 Do you remember, Cephas, Dean Swift s saying, 
 that, It is a miserable thing to live in suspense ; it is 
 the life of a spider ? Now, I wish you were either here 
 or in California ; but this life of hanging between this 
 and that must be miserable." 
 
 He took the spider, and put it into a pill box, as if 
 his old house at home had not vermin enough in it 
 already ; and answered, 
 
 " Spiders are the most industrious creatures alive ; 
 and so far as I have observed, they appear to enjoy life 
 at least as well as the flies which get caught in their 
 webs." 
 
 And he pointed to my face, with fragments of spider s 
 yarn still sticking to my mustache. 
 
 As we walked, I thought how hope deferred maketh 
 the heart sick ; and in truth I was tired of candidating, 
 and wished I had something definite in view, even if it 
 
 ^ 0? THS ^V 
 
 " - IT H ?*; ft V m M V 
 
42 THE NORTH STAR. 
 
 was to emigrate to the South Seas. Week after week, 
 and month after month, had brought me no nearer 
 to a settlement. Amid the finest natural scenery, I 
 could not forget my unrest. I began to look upon 
 Cephas as a happy man ; only I did not see how 
 he could have the heart to work so like a Trojan for 
 the Tragabigzandites, when his heart went missionary- 
 ing. But when I questioned him and his people, I had 
 no reason to suppose that his distant schemes made 
 him any less useful in his ordinary work. Pie was, 
 rather, like a warrior of ancient Rome, strengthened 
 for common conflict by frequent practice in very heavy 
 armor. His hope that he might some day benefit a 
 large section of the globe, and his plans for it, made 
 him carry well and with ease the affairs of his parish. 
 So a brook gets ready to run with the river by running 
 hard as it can so soon as it is born. 
 
 We came now to the junction of the brook and the 
 river. An aged willow reached a long arm across the 
 forest stream at the very place where it joined the tide 
 water. Upon the strong branch, half-way over the 
 brook s mouth, I saw that a card had been tacked with 
 willow pins, by some former visitant. Running out to 
 read it, I found, in the original Maxdecroix character, 
 the text, " He that believeth shall not make haste." 
 And as I was still looking at my friend s chirography, 
 I heard his voice behind me on the branch, saying, 
 
 " Keep cool. Don t fret. I ll show you how to keep 
 cool." 
 
 And I turned just in time to see his form splash in 
 the deep water below. I followed suit without suit. 
 
THE NORTH STAR. 43 
 
 It was evident enough that there would be a shower ; 
 and as we did not care to get wet twice, we made for 
 a headland seaward, which was holding up an extended 
 assortment of longhandled, wide-spreading, thick-cov 
 ered, hemlock umbrellas. The white tops of the thun 
 der heads, and the blue rifts between them, still made 
 the sky bright, while the earth was growing dark. The 
 leaves of the scrub oaks on the side of the hill were 
 twisting in the wind, and a low moaning sound came 
 from the direction of the forest. From the highest 
 pinnacle of the crag by the sea we watched the gather 
 ing tempest. Looking over the wooded country, we 
 could see how much the undulations of the forest are 
 like the motions of the waves when agitated by strong 
 tides and fierce winds. The roaring of the wood grew 
 louder and louder. The violent swaying of the tallest 
 tree-tops ; the fitful then steady bending of a white 
 birch grove near us, with now and then torn leaves 
 flying on the wind ; and the bowing almost to the 
 ground of a tall slender elm in the pasture, prepared 
 us for a crash and bolt of fire. We watched the 
 shadow of the clouds on the sea, and one dark belt of 
 rain pouring into the deep. Cephas drew a tragedy 
 out of my pocket, and read about the storm that over 
 whelmed Prometheus : 
 
 " The earth shakes to and fro, 
 And the loud thunder s voice 
 Bellows hard by, and blaze 
 The flashing levin-fires ; 
 And tempests whirl the dust, 
 
44 THE NORTH STAR. 
 
 And gusts of all wild winds 
 On one another leap, 
 In wild conflicting blasts, 
 And sky with sea is blent." 
 
 We had no occasion to seek shelter ; the outermost 
 bounds of the rain cloud scarcely covering us. First 
 waiting to see the rainbow sink into the sea, and the 
 " floating fleeces, precious with the gold of heaven," 
 lose all color, and the sea itself put on its night-robe 
 gathered from the east, we then turned homeward. 
 One bird was still flying alone over the bitter waves, 
 solitary as a man of great purpose. When we ap 
 proached Cephas homely home, I thought it more 
 homelike. Its rugged exterior and rough inside seemed 
 fit for a man, who with fine natural tastes lived -only 
 to deny himself for the sake of others. 
 
 When I looked at the North Star before going 
 to sleep, it did not seem so weird to me as the night 
 before in my hammock ; and I was in less fear of being 
 struck mad by it. And since my ability to identify the 
 heavenly bodies was limited to the Moon and the 
 Dipper and the Polar Star, I was rather glad to have a 
 new idea associated with this particular star; that 
 whenever I should look up from a sidewalk, or peer out 
 of a rail car window, and see it, I should think of it as 
 uttering a voice louder than the music of the spheres. 
 
 "Young man, had you not better do your candidating 
 in the service of the Home Missionary Society ?" 
 
 I awoke once in the night, and heard Cephas talking 
 in his sleep. He seemed to be still wandering in the 
 
THE NORTH STAR. 45 
 
 woods in the darkness. And he said, "The birds are 
 quiet; but I hear the brook singing songs at midnight." 
 
 There was a long row of enormous button woods by 
 the roadside upon a little elevation at some distance 
 from Cephas house, where he was accustomed to walk 
 up and down by the hour together in the evenings, 
 often when the boughs were threshing in a heavy gale, 
 or again on balmy summer nights under full moonlight ; 
 and the invocations which here mingled with the crash 
 of the tempest or rose in the still air of June, were 
 almost invariably for the border country. His mission 
 ary plans were little known to his people. . And the 
 secret yet full and powerful life he was always leading 
 in this respect, as well as in some others, has seemed 
 to me not unlike certain solitary streams, deep, wide 
 and swift, which run unseen through vast and unfre 
 quented forests. So wide and varied was this man s 
 nature, that whole courses of life might thrive in its 
 secret places, and his neighbors might touch him and 
 know him only on that side in which he was like them. 
 
46 CROOKED STICKS. 
 
 IV. 
 
 CROOKED STICKS. 
 
 IT WOULD be hardly fair to my readers, if I were to 
 remove them from the Tragabigzanda country, 
 without asking them to trace certain steps which 
 Cephas and I took one day for the purpose of looking 
 up some of the queer sticks growing in this forest town 
 ship. While there is considerable cleared land, yet 
 most of the high hills, narrow swamps and broad plains 
 are concealed by pine, hemlock, cedar, maple, oak, ash 
 and elm, with a liberal allowance of sprout-land. The 
 coast line is made up of a river mouth, with no mean 
 harbor three miles of sand beach ; one large marsh 
 with its creek ; one deep cove ; and two grand head 
 lands, connected with each other by a rocky rampart 
 half a mile long, and forty to seventy feet high from the 
 water s edge. The forest is almost everywhere, extend 
 ing to the shores of the sea as well as far inland. In 
 this heavily timbered town there are plenty of odd 
 sticks. I saw a cane in the jamb of Cephas big fire 
 place, which in growing made so many sharp angles that 
 he had cut it as a memento of the "crooked sticks" 
 among his parishioners. 
 
CROOKED STICKS. 47 
 
 Taking this stick in his hand Cephas and I set out to 
 traverse the town. We came first to the old parsonage, 
 now long vacant. The house was built like a harrow, 
 with a large square head-piece remote from the street 
 and two wings making out toward the highway. The 
 opening of the harrow contained a well with long sweep 
 and oaken bucket, half concealed by a clump of rock- 
 maples. One leg of the harrow was sixty feet, the other 
 forty. The width of each wing was about twenty feet. 
 These wings were one story ; the main part of the 
 house, at the intersection of the wings, was two stories. 
 The long ell contained kitchen, woodshed and outbuild 
 ings, with a pig pen on the extreme end near the street, 
 although this deformity was dexterously hidden by a 
 thick hemlock hedge twenty feet high. The short ell 
 was the parson s study. Dining-room and parlor were 
 upon the first floor of the main house ; with windows 
 looking upon the harbor and sea. A cupola sur 
 mounted the chambers, and in its turn was mounted 
 by a brass angel blowing his trumpet against the 
 wind from whatever quarter. The angel was poised 
 over the porch, which stood in the angle made by the 
 two wings. Winding stairs ascended from the porch. 
 We climbed in at a shed window and explored. I 
 found one of the parson s sermons on an upper shelf 
 of the study closet. It was black with dust; but I 
 shook it and tucked it in my pocket. The outlook from 
 the house, on the side next the sea was very extended, 
 embracing twenty miles of coast line. The cupola view 
 inland, outside the village, revealed nothing but woods. 
 
48 CROOKED STICKS. 
 
 We went into the room where the last occupant, half 
 mad, used to raise his windows on Sabbath mornings, 
 and pray in a stentorian voice for his enemies, when 
 they were going to the house of God, whither he never 
 went in his last days of alienation from his people. He 
 had been a man of considerable force of intellect. But 
 he happened to be the last minister settled in the old 
 method "by the town." Long before his death the 
 people became dissatisfied with this way of supporting 
 their pastor ; and the ungodly delighted to vex his 
 righteous soul. The crooked sticks cumbered his path, 
 and at last tripped him up. I have, within a few days, 
 read in their town records the story of his trials. They 
 had, it seems, agreed at the first to pay him a small 
 salary, and take up for him " two generous contribu 
 tions " each year. In the major part of his life all went 
 well ; but in later years things grew worse and worse. 
 Pastor and people did not get on together. 
 
 He was crooked, and they were crooked. Minute 
 matters were magnified. In the particular year in 
 which he resigned, the town agreed to repair the par 
 sonage fence. The contributions were small ; the salary 
 lagged ; and half the fence was rotten. He wrote to 
 the selectmen about it. They answered, in substance, 
 that they would pay the arrears of the salary sometime, 
 as they paid their other debts ; and that the contribu 
 tions were " generous," inasmuch as anything was 
 generous which was given as a gratuity where no equiv 
 alent was rendered ; and that, as to repairing the fence, 
 one Mr. Dow had worked half a day in patching it, and 
 
CROOKED STICKS. 49 
 
 this fulfilled their agreement about repairing, for they 
 did not say how much they would mend it. In the 
 ecclesiastical council at which he was dismissed, the 
 most serious charge preferred against him was that he 
 had lied. It seems that he had related to some of his 
 best gossips, certain adventures he met with in a neigh 
 boring town, where he went to exchange. He said that 
 he slept little, because "bed bugs as big as horses" 
 kept running over him all night. 
 
 When he was about to die, he requested to be buried 
 as he had lived, that is, "crossed." He was buried 
 crosswise of the graveyard ; and there is no monument. 
 So, if we may believe the sexton, who had a particular 
 spite against him ; and who has lately confessed, that he 
 dared obey the old man s wish, in place of the direction 
 given by the conductor of the funeral. That there 
 is no monument, is little creditable to the church ; for 
 he was an excellent pastor before his head went wrong. 
 
 After leaving the parsonage, we passed the meeting 
 house, standing in the midst of an old graveyard, and 
 then crossed the river. Entering the woods upon a well 
 traveled road we came in about a mile to a clearing; in 
 which there nestled a low cottage, once wearing paint 
 but now weather-worn, with mossy roof and swallows 
 nests under the eaves. 
 
 "Good morning, Peter," said Cephas to the simple 
 minded philosopher, who made this his home, as we 
 caught a glimpse of him perambulating his pasture 
 among rocks and bushes. 
 
 Pete came to a stand-still, and, leaning over the wall, 
 
50 CROOKED STICKS, 
 
 told us in half a whisper that he had just returned from 
 his annual visit to the neighboring city Teatown, and 
 that after turning so many corners of brick, he had to 
 walk all day upon his farm to get the kinks taken out 
 of him. 
 
 Leaving the road we climbed a ridge on the right, 
 and within half an hour approached the great salt 
 marsh. Here at about eleven o clock, we found bare 
 footed Old Butternuts so called long bearded, gray 
 and grizzly. He lived in an oil cask, with a fragment 
 of glass over the bung-hole for a window. His nest was 
 lined with clover, and he was just crawling out when we 
 came in sight. Without apparently noticing us, he went 
 to a cold spring near by, thrust his head into it, and 
 then shook his shaggy locks like a spaniel. It was a 
 delightful nook where he camped, amid half a dozen 
 gigantic elms upon a little knoll, close under the well 
 wooded bluff from which we had approached. In front 
 was the green marsh, to the right the blue sea ; and 
 between the mouth of the creek and the mouth cf the 
 river the long beach. Old Butternuts lived by his gun, 
 fish line and clam fork, and by hunting among farms 
 and gardens on moonlight nights. Upon dark and 
 stormy evenings he made for hen roosts, visiting a 
 cfrcuit of six or eight miles. When it came winter he 
 merely rolled his barrel into the woods, and lodged 
 it in a corner between protecting ledges. If the thicket 
 was not close enough, his axe soon made the den warm 
 with strips of hemlock bark and boughs of spruce. 
 The day we saw him, he was greatly amused, it being 
 
CROOKED STICKS. 51 
 
 early October, by the removal of two or three wealthy 
 families who had spent the summer on the shore. 
 They were hastening to the city, leaving some of the 
 most delightful days of the year to shine on their empty 
 houses. He called it the early flight of the tame geese ; 
 so early, we should have a hard winter. 
 
 Pointing to his double-barreled gun, I asked, 
 
 " What do you do with that ? " 
 
 "I keep that to shoot home missionaries with. 
 There ain t a sin under heaven but they ll stand up for 
 it by divine right." 
 
 Yet Old Butternuts was a religious man in his way. 
 He was always observed upon the Sabbath, sitting bare 
 headed under a tree, at the usual time of church 
 service. And those who have stood watch at the hour 
 of slumber, say that when he goes to sleep he first 
 prays, 
 
 "Keep me to-night, God; and free the slaves. 
 And may I wake up early to plunder pro-slavery barns 
 and farms." 
 
 " Do you raise such pagans on this coast ? " I asked 
 of Cephas, as we moved forward. 
 
 " No, he is a returned Californian ; and my main 
 reason for wanting to go to Frisco is to get the Vigi 
 lance Committee to hang such rascals, so they can t 
 come here to contaminate my parish. He has taught 
 half the young men in this precinct to gamble, and 
 cheated them out of their dollars ; which, it is said, he 
 hides away in a squirrel s nest. 
 
 We dined that day with Tom Parsnip, a small farmer 
 
52 CROOKED STICKS. 
 
 over the creek, just beyond the cranberry meadow, on 
 the left of the road up shore. His better half was hard 
 of hearing ; and, after we came into the house, we over 
 heard Tom saying in a loud voice,- 
 
 " Sarah ! I say, Sarah ! put more water in the soup. 
 We ll have company." 
 
 The soup was good, and would have borne more 
 water. This woman Sarah was a widow at the time 
 Tom married her. Parsnip was a little modest about 
 doing his own courting ; and he had employed his 
 neighbor James Raikes to go over to Beanville to pop 
 the question for him. 
 
 In consideration of his success Raikes received three 
 acres of pasture. And the gift had proved a singular 
 means of grace to him. 
 
 " See how rank the tufts of grass grow in the middle 
 of this swamp," said Cephas, as we were walking 
 through the lot. "This is a cow trap. Raikes is 
 so crooked that he could not get along with his neigh 
 bors in ecclesiastical affairs. Three years ago he 
 signed off from the parish, to which he had been 
 giving five dollars a year. But sometime after, standing 
 one day where we do now, he saw the horns of his best 
 cow sticking up out of the middle of this bog. And he 
 ran into the house, exclaiming, to his wife, 
 
 I am goin to jine the perish agin quick as I can. 
 Ole Brindle is sunk. 
 
 " But he was so angry again, within a twelve, months, 
 that he signed off once more. He did not think, 
 however, to fence in this hole till another cow went 
 
CROOKED STICKS. 53 
 
 down ; and then he put up these rails, and vowed to 
 join the parish, and stick to it as long as he should live. 
 He looks upon the parish as an insurance company, 
 securing him against the Divine wrath in this life. And 
 it is cheap at five dollars a year." 
 
 The great object of our day s excursion was to find 
 Johnny Norwegian, whose rambling along shore gave 
 him many homes, and whom I afterwards found on 
 Cape Anne. Here he was in a walnut grove, near a 
 cleft in the ledge which kept back the sea ; we heard 
 the tide roaring in the long chasm under ground as we 
 came up. He was taking cunners out of an old canvas 
 bag, so long out of water as to be smelt, and put 
 ting them into a kettle to boil. This was on a Monday, 
 and John never went fishing Monday because the 
 women were all washing, and all water was troubled as 
 if the devil was in it. His house, about seven feet cube, 
 was built two-thirds under ground in the lee of a large 
 stone block left by ancient glacier. With slabs and turf 
 he had quite a comfortable shelter. We found a Bible 
 in the cabin, but he hardly needed to open it, for he had 
 it all at his tongue s end. I hardly ever met a man who 
 knew so much text as he. 
 
 It was near nightfall, and we made short stay. 
 Before we left, Cephas told John that I was a minister. 
 He took my hand, saying, 
 
 " Good-bye. Remember what old Johnny tells you. 
 If you want to set the coal in your parish on fire, don t 
 spend the greater part of your time in trying to kindle 
 the cinders. 5 
 
54 CROOKED STICKS. 
 
 Cephas said that the hermit was a member of his 
 congregation. Afterwards I often saw him in the meet 
 ing house at Manchester. He sat in one corner of the 
 gallery, with hat band full of flowers, clothes tattered, 
 patched, and girded with a red wampum. No man 
 was so attentive to the words of the preacher as he. 
 But the neighbors had whisperings about some crime, 
 which had made him leave his home beyond sea ; and 
 there was a strange mystery about him. No crime was 
 his, however, save that he loved and was crossed in it 
 by the interference of his father, and then fled his coun 
 try. In the earlier days he bore up under it, and kept 
 to his reason. He was first a farmer, then a shoe 
 maker, a good workman, and not very eccentric. He 
 had the good taste to do certain days works in one of 
 the most charming interior towns of eastern Massa 
 chusetts, Topsfield ; whose hills, and groves and 
 meadows were a delight to him. He was always very 
 choice of his surroundings. If his hut was ever in any 
 town, it may be called safe for summer residents in the 
 country to buy lots near by. A summer resident north, 
 he often wintered in some southern state. He was like 
 a bird, flitting back and forth according to the season. 
 At first he called himself William Williams. But the 
 more he reflected upon the kind of life he ought to be 
 leading with a true home in Norway, the more he lost 
 his mental balance ; and he came to call himself St. 
 John. And he went into the wilderness to live ; and 
 wandered henceforth, never tarrying long anywhere. 
 He kept it up for nearly forty years. Once or twice, 
 
CROOKED STICKS. 55 
 
 relatives found him, and tried to get him to go with 
 them to take possession of certain estates left him ; but 
 John Comstock died as he lived, a hermit. 
 
 The sun had gone down, and we went up from the 
 gray sea to a hill top back of the grove, and after taking 
 one more look up and down the picturesque shore, we 
 descended the northern slope, moving toward a distant 
 arm of the ocean, which was shining under the last 
 rays of daylight. Within a mile we came to a grave 
 yard close on^the brink of the sea. And we heard 
 
 " The moaning, murmuring waves, 
 Whose melancholy echoes wail 
 Beside the lonely graves." 
 
 " I was once passing this burial ground in the road 
 over the other side," said Cephas, "upon an evening, in 
 a terrific thunder shower. By a flash of lightning I 
 saw a man standing in the open mouth of a tomb close 
 to the path, and he called to me in a sepulchral voice, 
 
 " Come in, there is plenty of room. 
 
 " Then came a sharp, almost stunning clap of thun 
 der. And, I confess, I ran like mad. Hearing steps 
 behind me, I turned my head, and with the next flash 
 saw the stout man from the tomb close upon me. 
 
 " Stop, stop, I want you, shouted the apparition. 
 
 " And with a spring he clutched my shoulder. 
 
 " My friend, I want to borrow your umbrella, said 
 he who had risen from the grave s mouth. 
 
 " It turned out that he was a wild fellow, a trout 
 fisher, horse racer, and hound breeder, living three 
 
56 CROOKED STICKS. 
 
 miles away ; who, seeing the tomb door open when the 
 shower came up, went in there for shelter. But the 
 roof leaked so badly, that he was quite willing to get 
 out of it, particularly if there was the possibility of a 
 practical joke." 
 
 "This same fellow," continued Cephas, "was once 
 used for a good purpose on this very spot. Some years 
 ago, he originated a plot to frighten one of his tavern 
 companions. Two or three of these bar room saints 
 came one dark night to this cemetery, which is hem 
 med in by woods each way on the road, and tied a 
 rope across the track to entrap their comrade who 
 would soon come along on his way home. His horse 
 came to a standstill at the rope, just opposite this row 
 of tombs. And a deep voice from the top of this tall 
 pine, called him by name, 
 
 " Isaiah, Isaiah, Come to judgment. Come to judg 
 ment. 
 
 " The rope was slacked, and his horse made his way 
 homeward, the driver half dead with terror. But his 
 subsequent knowledge that it was the voice of a fallen 
 angel he had heard, never shook his resolution to lead 
 a new kind of life. He became a most estimable 
 neighbor, and valued citizen ; and by his consistent 
 Christian life, a pillar in the church of the Lord." 
 
 At our lodging place that night, I read the dusty 
 sermon I had found in the old parsonage. It showed 
 the material the minister had to deal with in Tragabig- 
 zanda. "When I first came to the settlement," says 
 
CROOKED STICKS. 57 
 
 the manuscript, " I saw many an unpainted house, with 
 clapboards flying loose and rag bags in the windows. 
 Broken wagons were standing about in moss-covered 
 and decaying orchards, hemmed in by dilapidated 
 fences. Lean looking hounds were in the barn yard, 
 and hungry hounds on the door step. Farmers wives 
 came to the parsonage from all quarters to ask what 
 could be done to keep their husbands from the drink. 
 And when I saw the school committee of the town, and 
 the selectmen, and the town clerk, in procession, wheel 
 ing through the public streets a barrel of whiskey to 
 the place one of them called home I felt compelled 
 to speak out in meeting quite decidedly." 
 
 The sermon then goes on to relate how some of his 
 people who had unusually hard heads, hard as buffa 
 loes, and could stand any amount of liquor without 
 apparent harm, used to have what they called " Sunday 
 prayer meetings " on a little island down the harbor. 
 It was on their account that the name was changed 
 from Rum Island, which it had borne since a cargo of 
 the stuff was wrecked there in colonial times, to Ram 
 Island. It is intimated in the sermon that the parson 
 sometimes visited this rendezvous to pray for his peo 
 ple. And, according to the manuscript, some of these 
 rocky-headed citizens lived to learn a better use for 
 Sunday, and became excellent members of society ; 
 although some determined to drink rum to a good old 
 age, if only, as they said, to show that it could be 
 done in spite of all the assertions of physicians and 
 fanatics to the contrary. 
 
58 CROOKED STICKS. 
 
 " I have sometimes," said the pastor in this sermon, 
 " found in a wild dell of the forest, within sound of the 
 sea, an elevated flat rock, which the young men have 
 turned into a card and drinking table. And I have 
 made that rock an altar, upon which to pray for those 
 who gathered there." 
 
 The paper throughout has a wholesome ring to it, 
 snugly fitting the needs of the hour. This pastor chose 
 to grapple with the passions of his parishioners and 
 their rampant iniquity, rather than spend^the Sabbath 
 hours in quarreling with the heresies of distant doctors. 
 That the sins which afflicted his earlier pastorate had 
 not yet wholly ceased, appears from the closing para 
 graph : 
 
 " Spiritual struggling and triumph is all that gives 
 dignity to a community. No natural scenery will make 
 up for want of character. To gain moral power in a 
 beautiful region is the only thing worth doing. It is 
 the only fit use to make of the scenery. Those who 
 come to such places only to follow fashion or to fish 
 and to fiddle, might as well spend their days and nights 
 in Sahara. And some of the residents of these shore 
 towns might as well chew their tobacco and spit out 
 their oaths in an alkali desert, as to be riding on this 
 silver tide or coasting these borders of what would 
 be an Eden if it were not for man s sin and God s 
 cursing east wind. As the devil entered Paradise 
 sitting between the teeth of the serpent, poisoning the 
 fangs, so he runs, in liquid form, down the throats of 
 many of our people, and then they act like the sons of 
 
CROOKED STICKS. 59 
 
 perdition. Such marks of sin on this shore mar its 
 beauty ; and it is a blighted garden of the Lord." 
 
 After reading the sermon, I asked Cephas if it was 
 applicable to the people under his pastorate. He 
 would not tell me. But I ventured to ask, 
 
 " Why do you want to try a missionary tour in the 
 West, as if your labors were not wanted here ?" 
 
 " Some of these people may be easily reached," he 
 answered, " and it is probable that some never will be. 
 You remember what the Norwegian said about kindling 
 cinders." 
 
60 THE PHANTOM HOUSE. 
 
 V. 
 THE PHANTOM HOUSE. 
 
 BETWEEN two and three years passed before I 
 saw Cephas again. Meantime, I had found my 
 level in an obscure pastorate ; but since it was 
 within a convenient distance of what I considered the 
 center of civilization, I put up with it contentedly as 
 possible. Not yet did the Polar Star guide my life. I 
 was a home missionary through force of circumstances, 
 not by choice. The poverty, however, of my friend and 
 myself was not much increased by spending money on 
 the post office. We had confidence enough in each 
 other not to suppose love extinct if it did not appear by 
 every mail. Sometimes the silence was unbroken for 
 months. We were so unlike that I needed other friends, 
 and he also, to meet certain mental wants. Yet on the 
 whole we were more and more wedded to each other. 
 We understood one another perfectly, and knew just 
 how to get on together. The months therefore led us 
 to rest more and more in our friendship : although I 
 did not understand how he could put up with me, I 
 being utterly unable to countenance myself in certain 
 selfish courses; but he evidently thought me capable of 
 
THE PHANTOM HOUSE. 6 1 
 
 a higher consecration, and little by little. I was led by 
 him. 
 
 :/ So our boyhood acquaintance was ripening year by 
 year into a rare kind of friendship, the mutual love of 
 men, who with their own domestic surroundings and 
 with their circle of cares, yet find in each other a certain 
 relation in the highest degree satisfying and helpful, as 
 if for some of the most important ends of life the two 
 were one. But it is impossible that there should be 
 such an one, unless there be first two. Two individuals 
 intensely developed, thoroughly unlike in many particu 
 lars and carefully respecting each other s peculiarities, 
 must exist before there can be the highest kind of 
 friendship, though the brotherhood itself is based on 
 mutual confidence and affection, and substantial unity 
 of purpose. Two creatures, who appear to each other a 
 " mere mush of concession," can never love each other. 
 Unlikeness is as needful as likeness in the house of 
 friends ; the unlikeness recognized, respected and used. 
 The great use to me in having a friend is to have one 
 who looks at many things differently from what I do : 
 such a man adds to my mental resources and makes me 
 stronger, provided that in the rest of his make-up we 
 are thoroughly agreed./ 
 
 It is therefore nothing strange that between my inti 
 mate and myself certain topics were never touched in 
 talk or by mail-bag. Parts of his interior life were un 
 known to me as if he had been a stranger. Many 
 points in my nature he seemed to take no more cogni 
 zance of than if I had been a Fiji islander. Indeed, if 
 
62 THE PHANTOM HOUSE. 
 
 I had been a cannibal, he would have felt more at lib 
 erty to invade my personality. Our sudden visits to 
 each other were therefore often glad or sad surprises, 
 by which new phases came to view, as if we should 
 never cease to delight in the unfoldings of character 
 which new years revealed. I rejoiced with a sort of 
 ecstasy when I was about to visit him, since I was soon 
 to behold some man of g-reat worth little known to me 
 with whom I had formed a secret alliance years before. 
 We loved to steal a march upon each other, appearing 
 suddenly at time and in place the most unlocked for. 
 Our movements were so erratic that I averred of him 
 what he said of me, that no surprise would be excited 
 in his mind to see me riding through the air on a 
 broomstick. 
 
 Eight or nine months had gone by without inter 
 change of letters, and I started for Nuntundale. Ce 
 phas was living on the island where he had spent that 
 part of his childhood in which he was absent from our 
 birthplace. A fishing village on a larger island con 
 nected by a bridge was his parish. I had never been 
 there, but every furlong of the soil had been described 
 to me so often, that I should have known my where 
 abouts, if I had been let down there blindfolded at 
 midnight. It was late in the winter. A cod-catcher 
 set me across from the main-land, over a mile of rough 
 water. Seated in the stern, rising and falling on the 
 uneasy cross sea, I pulled from my pocket, for the 
 fourth time since I left the railroad, the fragment of a 
 school composition, in which Cephas once described his 
 
THE PHANTOM HOUSE. 63 
 
 "ISLAND HOME." 
 
 "The old brown house in which I spent my child 
 hood, was built upon a small island on our eastern 
 coast. Green fields, groves of walnut and oak, and 
 patches of dark fir mark the surface. It is guarded 
 from the northeast storms by tall and torn cliffs, against 
 which the billows lash themselves into foam. These 
 headlands overhanging the sea, rise to a great height. 
 In one place a pinnacle lifts its head above the rest 
 of the wall like a sentinel tower. Inland, not far back 
 from this point, is a huge crag with upright walls like a 
 fort, fir-crowned. 
 
 " Upon the extreme northeast point of the island 
 there is a precipice about four hundred feet long and 
 eighty feet high ; so upright that a pebble dropped from 
 the top falls into the surf, which pounds the base with 
 terrific violence when the wind has been out for sev 
 eral days. I wish I could describe its peculiar make. 
 Take a book whose thickness is greater than its width. 
 When .it is closed, rest it on its back upon the table, 
 then drop one cover, and you have the leaves like the 
 upright strata of this cliff rising perpendicularly, and 
 the sea is sweeping in over the cover up to the base of 
 the leaves. Where the flat cover now is, there were 
 once leaves, upright, now worn away, leaving polished 
 grooves like the old ways in a ship-yard. The inland 
 end of the rock forms part of a high hill. The end 
 toward the sea has been subjected to cannonading by 
 the waves through so many centuries that each leaf has 
 
64 THE PHANTOM HOUSE. 
 
 been broken. The seaward end of the Bald Cliff is 
 thus made up of fantastic stairways for the sea-nymphs 
 and the mer-men, and boys and girls from the land, to 
 climb over. And here the sea gulls often settle in a 
 white cloud. This book of upright strata was origin 
 ally three hundred feet thick ; about a third of it has 
 washed away. 
 
 "All along the east side of the island, the sharp 
 waves have cut strange gashes in the rocks ; gouging 
 out veins of softer rock and leaving deep fissures. Be 
 tween the eastern headlands and the southern slopes, 
 the Middle cove comes far in toward the heart of the 
 island ; upon the one side sheltered by steep walls of 
 rock, upon the other margined with an orchard and 
 smiling fields of growing grain. Here the noisy sea- 
 fowl settle down, filling the cove like unwieldy, unmelt- 
 ing snowflakes on the blue waters. Upon the south 
 and west of this little kingdom in the sea, we find the 
 sweet corn lands separated from the bitter brine by a 
 mere belt of sand, which is almost covered at flood tide 
 but six hundred feet wide at low ebb. When .1 was 
 hoeing corn upon this slope in June days, I was cheered 
 by the measured sound of long rollers falling on the 
 beach. The water is comparatively shallow on this 
 sunny side of the island, while a frigate can sail close 
 to the cliffs on the northeast. On the southwest, the 
 beach makes out into the bar running toward the main. 
 A large open walnut grove, with clean grassed floor, 
 comes down to the edge of the sand where the bar 
 makes off. On the northwest of the island, there is a 
 narrow, but sharply-defined and ragged-edged channel, 
 
THE PHANTOM HOUSE. 65 
 
 over which springs the bridge that leads to the Fishing 
 Village. This little hamlet is situated on the south 
 western part of an extensive island, which runs parallel 
 with the coast and is separated from it by a wide .and 
 deep passage." 
 
 This sea-girt home was now before me, and I was 
 soon landed at the head of the little cove, near the 
 middle of the island. The wind was raw from the 
 east, but I established myself under the lee of crags, 
 where a tall spruce had foot-hold near the water. 
 Making as big a fire as I could with drift, I sat down to 
 my watch, like some wrecked mariner cast on the cold 
 coast. I knew there should be three houses on the 
 island, and three I could see. It was the time of day 
 when the parson was likely to be in his study, and 
 within half an hour after my signal was smoking the 
 humane gentleman opened a window, thrust out a tele 
 scope, and was soon under full sail down the yard 
 toward the cove, ballasted by a huge kettle in one 
 hand. Cephas appeared not to notice me. Going to a 
 fish house opposite me, on the other end of the little 
 beach, he opened the door, and presently came out 
 with a fresh cod ; then he walked slowly over to 
 ward the place where I was lying on a shelf of rock 
 with my feet to the fire. His eyes were downcast; 
 and he came to the fire and began to prepare a chow 
 der without once looking at me. Now I am an expert 
 at chowder ; and when I saw that he did not season it 
 to my mind, I could not help speaking out. 
 4 
 
66 THE PHANTOM HOUSE. 
 
 "Take out them onions." 
 
 "Onions is good for shipwrecked emigrants," he 
 answered, slicing one more, knowing them to be my 
 particular detestation. 
 
 " Cephas," said I, rising, " I can t stand it to be dead 
 any longer, when such things are going into chowder." 
 
 "Lie still, lie still, my boy," he answered, "these 
 onions will put life into you." 
 
 It was a critical moment, but I approached the black 
 pot, only to find that the bits of onion had been 
 dropped between the pot and the fire. We shook hands 
 over the onions without shedding a tear ; though I 
 noticed a strange sadness in his face which his smile 
 did not quite dispel, and my hearty laughter went out 
 over the waters alone. We stirred up the fire, and 
 within the hour my interior life seemed to be warmed 
 up more than it had been since we talked over the 
 North Star s business by the streams of the Tragabig- 
 zanda forest. And Cephas face kindled in a moment 
 as soon as we put our clam-shell spoons into the kettle. 
 Said he : 
 
 "Do you know that I can make you swallow your 
 spoon ?" 
 
 "Don t," I answered, "or I ll make you eat the 
 kettle." 
 
 So as boys, on one wild day in " the gulf," we had 
 agreed that, by using a word reminding each other of 
 that hour, either of us could compel the other to eat as 
 bidden : a safe rule since it works both ways, goose and 
 gander being liable to be served with the same sauce. 
 
THE PHANTOM HOUSE. 67 
 
 After this calling up of the early life, he seemed like a 
 new man, as one awakened from a horrible nightmare. 
 
 Cephas appearing loath to return to the house, we 
 did not leave our fire till a dense fog came in near 
 night. The first house on the road from the cove stood 
 on a little elevation overlooking a considerable part of 
 the island. A little tract of woodland on the crest of 
 the ridge, bearing a mixed growth, shut off the view 
 behind the cottage on the North. The buildings were 
 sheltered from the severest winds by the arms of the 
 wood. The house appeared to be empty. There was 
 no fire, and the dust was thick in the corners of the 
 doorsill. A bit of snow drift upon the cold side of the 
 spring house bore no mark of foot or hand. This, I 
 had concluded, was Cephas old home; and I had 
 looked to see him come out of it to meet me, although 
 I noticed no streamer flying from the great chimney. 
 The weeping elm over the spring house, and the im 
 mense buttonwood near the woodshed, I knew all about. 
 
 "Do let me," I said, "taste that spring water," 
 moving quickly that way. 
 
 He grasped me by the arm, and said, " Not yet." 
 
 Without looking at him, I said, "I must lie on my 
 back and kick up my heels on that flat stone under 
 the buttonwood." 
 
 " Never !" he answered. 
 
 I looked in his face, and saw outlooking some sad 
 mystery I could not read. 
 
 "Go with me into the house just a moment, I want 
 to see the attic," I asked. 
 
 >*" OF 
 
68 THE PHANTOM HOUSE. 
 
 " I would not enter that house for all the world," he 
 replied, speaking slowly and in a low tone. 
 
 And his manner was such that I quietly followed his 
 leading, neither of us speaking a word ; but he held very 
 fast to my arm, and would hardly let go. His hostess 
 lived in the third house, nearest the town. After tea, 
 Cephas was absent half an hour, going to the village, 
 where sad news from the sea had come to one home 
 that day. My friend s landlord, who gained his living 
 by plowing furrows in the sea and raising his bread 
 from the waters, came in meanwhile, and I soon unrav 
 elled the mystery. 
 
 When Cephas moved upon the island, nearly two 
 years before, he went to housekeeping in the old home ; 
 and now, within a little time, his wife had died, a babe 
 a few months old going before the mother. My hard 
 habits of single life, since happily changed for one of 
 the best homes in the world, were at that time so 
 decided that I could have nothing in common with 
 Cephas, and we had never exchanged a word on matri 
 monial topics, though I had known long before that he 
 hoped to have sometime what he called a completer 
 life. 
 
 It was the early winter when the blow came upon 
 him. He had been over the channel on an evening 
 after a driving, drifting, bitterly cold snow-storm had 
 set in, to see whether a poor woman had fuel enough to 
 wear out the gale. Upon his late return he found the 
 body of his wife sitting in the old arm chair in front of 
 the fire with the open New Testament in hand, but her 
 
THE PHANTOM HOUSE. 69 
 
 eyes had closed forever. An intimate friend, the phy 
 sician, being late at the house next to them, saw their 
 light after midnight and went in, to find the husband 
 insensible upon the floor where he had fallen by side of 
 the chair. As he was removed, he directed that her 
 body should be borne out to the house of his present 
 host for the funeral, that nothing in his house 
 should be disturbed, that the dress in which she was 
 sitting should be laid over the back of the chair as it 
 stood, and the New Testament left in the chair with 
 face turned down at the chapter she had been read 
 ing. So the fire went out upon the hearth, and no one 
 had kindled it, or entered the house since. 
 
 His life, as it had been, all stopped then and there. 
 A new Bible, new ink and paper, new garments, and all 
 things new, were obtained for the new man in his life 
 of woe. The only thing about the old house taken 
 away was the key, which for a long time lay upon his 
 table with the key of the buried casket ; they were used 
 as paper weights, adding strangely to the weight of his 
 sermons. But their weight almost broke down his 
 study table ; and were so heavy he could not move 
 them to another place : he could hardly live with them, 
 and certainly not without them. That house was for a 
 time his terror, and he wished it might burn down. 
 For weeks he never looked at it, though his new home 
 was so near it and in plain sight. But when a great 
 storm came on, and a brig broke up on the rocks at the 
 point of the cove, he passed the house unwittingly in 
 his hurry to help. And since then he had been more 
 
70 THE PHANTOM HOUSE. 
 
 sane on the subject ; but he usually saw it as though he 
 saw it not, and he walked by it as if its place was 
 vacant. One day he took the house key, and threw it 
 into the sea off the Bald Cliff. He had lately finished 
 paying for the house ; and his notion seemed to be to 
 let the thing rot down with all its contents. Recently 
 he had been very busy with parochial work, and to 
 all appearance he would sometime be himself again. 
 There was really nothing disordered about him only 
 as we all go mad with sorrow. 
 
 " Oh troubles dark, and hard to understand ! 
 Ah, whither will these waters carry me ?" 
 
 " O Death the Healer, scorn thou not, I pray, 
 To come to me : of cureless ills thou art 
 The one physician." 
 
 " Are the consolations of God small with thee ? " 
 
 " The polar star, the star of hope, has gone down; and the 
 southern cross, the cross of sorrow, rises and is borne aloft." 
 
 These were the sentences I found lying under the 
 paper weight on the study table, as the beams of the 
 morning sun fell full upon them. When Cephas came 
 in, I pointed to them, and then to a geranium in the 
 window, and said, 
 
 "You must do as the plants do, look toward the 
 light." 
 
 We turned our backs on the memorials of grief, and 
 went out into the genial sunlight. There had been 
 fogs and rains, and the wind was still east, but the 
 
THE PHANTOM HOUSE. 71 
 
 morning was clear ; a few brown patches of snow clung 
 close to the walls, and there was as much mud as the 
 soil would make. Passing the bridge and village, we 
 entered a seemingly interminable tract of low pines 
 hung with gray moss. The fog came in, shut out the 
 sun, grew thicker, turned to a dense mist, dripped from 
 the trees, trickled down the beards of moss, and fairly 
 settled into a cold rain about noon. It impressed me 
 as one of the most lonely walks I ever took. But we 
 were dry under our oil garments and sou westers, which 
 we had taken, not trusting the sun to keep truce with 
 us. All the morning we were not out of sound of the 
 hoarse murmur of the deep. The story of my candidat- 
 ing experiences after I had left Nuntundale, rather 
 amused my friend for an hour or two ; and I could see 
 his delight at my being in home missionary work, as if 
 he had new hope of me henceforth. And he said at 
 dinner time, when we had our fire roaring in a rocky 
 place among spruces by the side of a creek at full tide, 
 that he thought my hard work and poor pay was 
 bearing fruit, since he discerned a vein of gentle religion 
 in my talk, 
 
 "You are more like yourself, as you were when a 
 boy." 
 
 When he said this, I began to pull to pieces the little 
 shelter we had built of bark and drift, putting one 
 section after another of our roof into the fire. 
 
 " I wish," said I, as the flames mounted higher, "you 
 had your boy heart again. Your heart is broken." 
 
 For I had noticed all the morning, whatever we 
 
72 THE PHANTOM HOUSE. 
 
 talked about, the consciousness of his sorrow was rever 
 berating always in his heart, like the unceasing roar of 
 the surf, whose voice is heard every moment in spite of 
 the clangor of the sea birds crying in another key. 
 That house on the hill was always before his eyes, even 
 when I was calling up to him the memory of early 
 years, and relating to him every pleasant adventure 
 since we had seen each other. He seemed to be walk 
 ing in a dream; then his face would light up for a 
 moment. Then he wore great anxiety and looked 
 about with eagerness, as if somewhere there must be an 
 escape for him: like a lost traveler, seeing indeed 
 many things agreeable to the eye, but desirous only of 
 knowing where he is and which way to go. 
 
 "The waters of affliction ebb and flow," I said, "and 
 the high tide will soon fall away." 
 
 But he made me no answer. And we turned down 
 the tidewater to the low shore of the ocean; and 
 walked on the soft sand just out of reach of the waves. 
 His heart was 
 
 " As full of sorrow as the sea of sands," 
 
 In going home by the beach, we observed an old 
 custom in our tramping, and separated for some two 
 hours, so that each might have the advantage of being 
 alone, that no day should be bereft of solitude. But 
 my mind was always following my friend, whose walk 
 seemed so lonely, like an iceberg on its solitary way 
 shrouded in mist. It had left off raining, but the fog 
 was thick enough to cut with a knife, and I saw little of 
 
THE PHANTOM HOUSE. 73 
 
 Cephas, save when emerging from the dark cloud of 
 vapor we crossed each other s course on the widening 
 beach, as the high tide was creeping back into the sea. 
 When we were ready to keep company again, and 
 had so signalled by imitating steamboat whistles an 
 swering each other through the fog bank, we had 
 come upon a shingle beach, after which we followed a 
 well-laid seawall of some length. The mist lightened 
 as we climbed a high headland just before the hour of 
 sunset ; and we saw the face of the sun when he went 
 down behind the forests of the mainland. While we 
 were waiting for the sinking of the sun, my companion 
 silently seated himself at some distance from me. 
 " He sitteth alone," says the prophet, " and keepeth 
 silence, because he hath borne it upon him." As soon 
 as the sun s disk disappeared, I turned to my friend, 
 only to see his eyes fixed " like the eyes of those who 
 see the dead." He was looking at the fir trees in 
 the grove, which hid the Phantom House on the hill. 
 
 In passing the houses of his parishioners, his. mind 
 was diverted ; and he told me quaint anecdotes of the 
 people. Here lived Pulsifer, the artist, a mile from the 
 harbor, who, buying a big cod, would tie a line to the 
 tail and drag it home over the rough roadway, so 
 " scaling it " for the fry-pan as he went along. And 
 there in another house was a fisherman half mad, son of 
 the old minister. When his stentorian voice was 
 uplifted in anger, it sometimes sounded over half a 
 league of rocky pasture, and startled the inhabitants of 
 the village. Or he would cry out in his boat in the 
 
74 THE PHANTOM HOUSE. 
 
 early morning, if he suddenly looked up from his lines 
 and saw another fisherman taking a berth beside him ; 
 and he did not cease to scare all wild birds with his 
 violence till the invader pulled up his killick and rowed 
 away. But Joe s great horror was the sight of gilt 
 devils feet, which a cabinet maker on the mill-dam put 
 under his mahogany center-tables. The sight of these 
 carved claws would make him drop his fish, lift up his 
 voice and yell till the demon was taken out of his path. 
 When, however, we reached the parson s own door, 
 these quaint stories had lost their charm, and the old 
 pain came back. The family had gone out, and I 
 climbed in at a window and struck a light. But my 
 friend sat outside upon the bench at the gate. And I 
 heard his voice : 
 
 " As one alone, once not alone, 
 
 I sit and knock at Nature s door, 
 Heart-bare, heart-hungry, very poor, 
 
 Whose desolated days go on." 
 
 Before bed time it was raining again. It was very 
 dark out of doors, and in doors for that matter. But 
 when I went out, as usual, to walk fifteen minutes before 
 sleeping, I saw a cloud broken in the west, and a frag 
 ment of light dropping into the opening star or moon. 
 Looking toward the arm of the sea stretching that way, 
 I knew it to be the moon by the light on the water 
 where all had been dark before. In five minutes the 
 crescent, two or three nights old, had passed the open 
 ing and was concealed again, and the rain kept on 
 
THE PHANTOM HOUSE. 75 
 
 pouring all the while. This, I thought, is like the life 
 of Cephas in this settlement, one continuous downfall 
 of grief, unrelenting ; no light can shine for him more 
 than a moment. And I formed the resolution to get 
 him out of the town into new circumstances, before 
 these deadly surroundings should perfect their work. 
 Although I had not myself personally known any deep 
 sorrow, I thought myself abundantly competent to 
 advise. 
 
 Dirge-like music from the shore came in at the win 
 dows all night ; and I slept little, hearing every now 
 and then the steps of my friend, as he was pacing the 
 floor of the chamber above me. 
 
 " This is the twenty-ninth day of east wind," said 
 Cephas when we met in the morning, " almost a month 
 of rain and snow and fog, and raw breath from the 
 ocean. You and I will go over and see the carpenters, 
 and give them a contract for shingling over the whole 
 northeast. I can t stand it any longer. I did not 
 notice it till the twenty-second day, but this last week 
 has made me determine that if the wind ever does get 
 round, I ll climb up to the rooster on my meeting house 
 and nail him, so he will always face toward fair 
 weather." 
 
 By the time breakfast was over, the indications 
 seemed to be good for a big storm and a shift in the 
 wind. The sea was sounding heavily, the slow boom 
 ing waves of the night being changed for a continuous 
 roar, with high rising spray; the clouds which had been 
 
76 THE PHANTOM HOUSE. 
 
 opening and shutting since daybreak, were thickening ; 
 and the wind, which had been steady for several hours, 
 was now rising to the dignity of a gale. The fishermen 
 were looking after their craft ; and all things were being 
 made ready for the shock of wind and wave. While I 
 was looking at the light-boat rocking on the great 
 billows, my comrade had his gaze fixed on the Phan 
 tom House. I at once said, 
 
 "You must quit your work, and go home with me a 
 little while. Get as far as you can from that house." 
 
 " I should have gone to see you long before you came 
 to see me, if it had not been for another of my houses," 
 he answered, pointing away to the northeast. "We 
 will go over there this morning, if you like." 
 
 Well rigged and close reefed for the storm, we went 
 out into it. Fast falling snow-flakes met us at the door, 
 and soon hid the house from our view. Our path led 
 through a corner of the grove behind the Phantom 
 House, and as we approached, Cephas turned to the left 
 of the wood and came into the path again beyond. 
 Seeing this maneuver, whose motive I did not under 
 stand till we turned into the same track again, I halted 
 in the growth of low shrubs, thinking to draw him for a 
 moment from the grief which seemed to curse even the 
 trees on* our way, by directing his attention to the fine 
 bed of evergreen we were passing over : 
 
 "Do you remember that Thoreau speaks of this as 
 that portion of the summer which does not fade, the 
 permanent year, the unwithered grass ? 
 
 "Yes," he answered, pointing to the grove, "and I 
 
THE PHANTOM HOUSE. 77 
 
 remember the Chinese classic, that Firs and pines 
 remain green throughout the winter, because they have 
 strong hearts. But I am like this lone leaf on the top 
 of this scrub oak, shivering in the storm." 
 
 But the hour of that oak leaf had now come; a 
 sudden sweep of the tempest tore it off and set it flying, 
 and we pursued our way. I had to pull down my hat 
 rim to keep the blinding storm out of my eyes. When, 
 after some time, I again looked up, there came to my 
 mind in an instant the familiar words in my friend s 
 old time school exercise in which he described this part 
 of the island : "A huge crag with upright walls like a 
 fQrt, fir-crowned." We scaled it, using hands as well as 
 feet, laying hold of old roots and clinging to cracks and 
 using narrow footing, till we reached the top. Here 
 was a natural fortification, the central part of the top of 
 the rock being occupied by a rifle pit or place for guns, 
 in shape much like a cellar four feet deep. The fir 
 trees upon the wide bank around the rim of the rock, 
 were not so numerous as to hinder the eye from getting 
 full view at every point, under the branches. Many 
 mornings and evenings and noons in fine summer 
 weather have I since spent in this rifle pit, which over 
 looks a great extent of land and sea, the view being 
 cut off only by the sentinel tower close at hand in 
 the northeast, and the Phantom grove in the south 
 west. But in the gloomy hour when I first stood there, 
 I could see nothing but the new turned earth and 
 sodded mound, which occupied the center of this 
 strange cemetery. 
 
?8 THE PHANTOM HOUSE. 
 
 There was only this one grave. And it was without 
 monument, except that my friend stood with bared 
 head over it; and then kneeled, then lay down by 
 its side, while I stood afar off not intermeddling in 
 these mysteries unknown to me. Seeing that he was 
 absorbed in sorrow as if unconscious of my presence, I 
 quietly slipped away, and descended from the sepul 
 chral crag by a gently sloping path on the side nearest 
 the sea. When I last looked back, the white snow 
 was fast covering the living and the dead. Making 
 my way to the pinnacle, where I knew Cephas would 
 naturally expect to find me, I sat there alone in the lee 
 of a splintered rock, and listened to the roar of wind 
 and sea. 
 
 " If I had a narrow house and deep bed there," said 
 my friend when he rejoined me, " I should be content." 
 
 And he sat down with his face to the storm. 
 
 "That fresh earth, and the squares of turf upon it, 
 and the chamber beneath it, make up the only home I 
 have in this world. The lowly roof which shelters my 
 dead, is so comforting a place for repose that I often 
 make a bed of boughs and sleep by it. When I am 
 alone with God and the dead I can rest. It is the 
 presence of other thoughts and things that distracts me. 
 Not yet can I be torn away. For the sake of my hours 
 on that rock, I stay in my parish and endure a thou 
 sand pangs every day and ten thousand every night. 
 Were it not for this new home I have had to build, I 
 would burn down that haunted house on the hill, 
 and never see this dreary island again." 
 
THE PHANTOM HOUSE. 79 
 
 With that grave he associated no idea of any 
 presence save the clay itself. He was, however, he 
 thought, aided in the apprehension of the blissful 
 activities of another life by dwelling much in that high 
 rock, where as upon an altar he had given up to God 
 the most precious of earthly gifts, the mother and child. 
 Here the visions of faith were brightest, while elsewhere 
 visions of desolation alone met his eye. 
 
 We dined that day in the bottom of one of the crev 
 ices cut in the coast by the slashing knives of the 
 ocean. The cavern at the end afforded a roof, and 
 we were sheltered from the wind by the rocky walls 
 and by pieces of the wrecked brig thrown in here. 
 From the broken ship we made our fire, heating and 
 blackening the walls of our stone house without fear of 
 burning it down. The sullen shock of the waves 
 sometimes startled us, while the constant moaning 
 of the sea accorded with the feelings of the hour. 
 
 " Deep calleth unto deep at the noise of- thy water 
 spouts : all Thy waves and Thy billows have gone over 
 me [Psalm 42 : 7]," repeated my companion. And 
 then after a pause he added : " Sometime I shall be 
 able to recite the next verse, not now." 
 
 Seeing a ship-worm, warmed by the fire, making his 
 way out of a water-logged fragment of old wreck, 
 which had come in from the seas on the last tide, 
 Cephas said : 
 
 "I am a worm and no man, this is the text I ap 
 preciate now. How lonely is this creature drifting 
 alone on the surface of the deep 1 And there is noth- 
 
8o THE PHANTOM HOUSE. 
 
 ing strained or extravagant in it, if I say that I feel as 
 desolate and hopeless, as generally broken up, as if I 
 were a mere worm clinging to a chip, riding upon a 
 storm-tossed sea, and conscious of my situation." 
 
 We spent part of the afternoon at the Bald Cliff, hid 
 ing from the fury of the driving sleet among the great 
 boulders, close by the smoothed leaf of rock called 
 " the ship-ways." The weather was so thick we could 
 not see beyond the surf-line; but this was what we 
 came to look upon, the sharp-toothed rocks mangling 
 the crested waves, and the anger of the sea. We went 
 home in rain not sleet. The beauty of snow on the 
 coast is short-lived, and we walked in slosh. 
 
 I could not be easy in the edge of the evening with 
 out going out again to the rocky corner of the cove just 
 to imagine how the brig must have looked coming head 
 on. The rain had for the moment slackened. The 
 heavens were black, the land was black, the sea was 
 black ; but the coast was lined with white breakers 
 very white with phosphorescent light and an ad 
 vanced line was gleaming over a sunken ledge far from 
 the shore. Two or three distant lighthouses were seen. 
 The wind was so wild that I could hardly stand. 
 
 The day following, and the next after that, when the 
 wind did actually haul round a few points, and the day 
 after that when the wind blew furiously out of the 
 northwest, I did nothing but roam the beaches, rain and 
 shine, seeing the billows lash themselves on ledges or 
 shovel sand on the bar. Day after day the surf was 
 dashing high all along shore, like drifting snow. The 
 
THE PHANTOM HOUSE, 8 1 
 
 spray so filled the air that the island was like a great 
 ship at anchor riding out the gale. And Cephas idled 
 with me in these days, growing, I thought, strong and 
 healthy-toned like the sea; though sometimes a fresh 
 tumult of waves broke over him for an hour, as if the 
 storm in his soul would never be still. 
 
 One day going past the Phantom House, I saw that 
 the storm had broken off a branch of the buttonwood 
 and hurled it smash against one of the kitchen win 
 dows. In repairing the damage by putting up close 
 board shutters outside, I saw everything about the 
 room standing as the housewife had left it, as if she 
 had gone out for an hour. And the knowledge that no 
 door had been opened, and that no step had fallen on 
 that floor since she cleared up the tea table that fatal 
 night, so impressed me that I could no longer bear to 
 look at the house as I had done. I almost instinctively 
 found myself avoiding the sight of it, or catching it 
 only in glances, as if the dead wife was still dwelling in 
 it alone. And my imagination penetrated that room, 
 where the garments of the dead were still hanging over 
 the arm chair in front of the fire place. I did not 
 wonder that Cephas could not enter the house, though 
 I had once or twice urged it upon him in order to 
 break the spell. 
 
 That house was like a tomb, standing for the dead s 
 sake, and not to be opened for light reasons. That the 
 old buttonwood should turn foe, and violate the sanc 
 tity of the place, brought Cephas down again in all the 
 bitterness of woe : so sensitive is sorrow. Although 
 
82 THE PHANTOM HOUSE. 
 
 he said nothing, I could see that the great deeps were 
 again broken up. And when I left the island a day or 
 two after, we parted almost in despair : for I could see 
 no bright prospect before him unless he should get 
 away; and he could not for himself staying, and go he 
 would not. So that the diversion of my visit seemed 
 likely to be of no permanent advantage. I had seen 
 hope resting on him for a moment, and flying away \ as 
 a bird of passage stops at sea on a foundered ship, and 
 then wings over the waves again. 
 
RISING FROM THE DEAD. 83 
 
 VI. 
 RISING FROM THE DEAD. 
 
 SOON after Cephas and I had separated in great 
 darkness, the Lord appeared to him with a power 
 never known before. He was able to pray again. 
 
 In the strange experience of a soul bereft there are 
 months together when the heavens are brass and the 
 earth iron, and all attempts to pray are made ineffect 
 ual by the sight of some haunted house or mound of 
 earth. Not knowing it then, I know it now. In these 
 great tempests the soul can never lie becalmed ; it must 
 move toward God or away from Him. God s child will 
 draw near and speak to the Father ; and the heavenly 
 answer will fill the soul with rapture. 
 
 When, therefore, the Divine Compassion finally led 
 the pastor to think more of service than of sorrow, and 
 the presence of the living Comforter more than of a 
 buried love, there dawned a new day upon him. And, 
 henceforth, he had one rule, that whenever he was 
 tempted to think of his sorrow he would think of Christ 
 instead. 
 
 After returning home the first letter I received from 
 Cephas had these words: "Were God present, kings 
 
84 RISING FROM THE DEAD. 
 
 and cow-herds would seem alike insignificant to us: 
 when He is in the closet with us, we pay no heed to the 
 raptures or the wretchedness of this world. Tumultu 
 ous joy, violent sorrow, and all mental agitation, give 
 place to a heavenly calm; and the peace of God fills 
 the earth." 
 
 Letter after letter came revealing what I had noticed 
 in my visit, that the pastor s great sorrow was making 
 itself felt in the sermons and in the parochial work. 
 Old truths were shown in new lights with a new man 
 ner, as if with him all things had become new. His 
 love, sympathy, tenderness, severity and decision in 
 dealing with souls, were all quickened. He seemed to 
 have a sense of sin unknown before, as if he had been 
 down into the deeps ; and he had new ^iews of the rela 
 tion of God to man, as a Father and as the Sovereign 
 Disposer. And when he now cried, "Behold the Lamb 
 of God which taketh away the sin of the world," it was 
 apparent to all that he had learned in the school of suf 
 fering things never taught in the schools of the proph 
 ets. The desolation of the pastor s house was, appar 
 ently, one of the conditions for gladdening the homes 
 of his people. 
 
 All that springtime and early summer, the Spirit of 
 the Lord moved upon the face of the waters which 
 washed the Island Home; and Christ himself went 
 forth with the fishermen day by day, or brought spirit 
 ual healing into their houses. 
 
 Before my visit to the Island Home, a young man 
 leaving home for a long voyage, paused a moment for a 
 
RISING FROM THE DEAD. 85 
 
 last word with his father and mother after the gate had 
 been shut between them. He asked that they would 
 pray for him. They had led godless lives, and not one 
 of the three knew much about praying; but the request 
 often silently presented itself to the mind of the pa 
 rents. After some months they began to pray in 
 earnest for the son and for themselves, each unknown 
 to the other. In due time came a letter from sea, say 
 ing that the son had commenced a Christian life near 
 the time when they began to pray ; and he was now urg 
 ing all prayer for their conversion. So the Spirit of 
 the Lord wrought upon land and sea, with each soul 
 alone. The father and mother now communicated with 
 each other, and erected the family altar ; and after sev 
 eral weeks they began to go to religious meetings, to 
 the great astonishment of those who had known their 
 hardihood in sin. 
 
 This was soon after my visit to Cephas, and it was 
 the immediate occasion for developing a new interest in 
 spiritual things in all the community. One and an 
 other came out into the light, who had been sitting in 
 great darkness during months and even years. Some 
 had been so burdened with a sense of sin that they had 
 pursued their ordinary cares with tears in their eyes day 
 after day, month after month, and, in one or two cases, 
 year after year. The field was white for the harvest, 
 and no man knew it, till one day an aged man who 
 lived much in the closet went to the pastor saying, 
 "The Lord is certainly coming to visit his people." 
 And when the old shipmaster and his wife told their 
 
86 RISING FROM THE DEAD. 
 
 strange story the ripened fruit was touched, and it fell 
 to the ground. 
 
 That very night the floor of the little schoor-house 
 was filled, as the members of the church, one by one, 
 left their seats and came forward to confess their sins to 
 each other and to the Lord. And when, a few days 
 after, the converted sailor returned from sea, filled 
 with the fruits of the Spirit, and with consuming zeal to 
 plead privately with old companions in sin, urging them 
 to accept his Saviour, the movement began to sweep 
 forward. And the lone working of the Spirit with men 
 apart in their own homes, showed plainly that it was 
 not to be accounted for solely on the ground of so 
 cial excitement. To the house of his pastor came a 
 young man, who lived at a distance, through a heavy 
 drifting snow-storm long before the break of day, say 
 ing:- 
 
 " I have served the devil long enough ; and I have 
 made up my mind now to serve the Lord." 
 
 It was a practical kind of religion that fastened on 
 the people, turning them into new courses of life. One 
 man was praying all night in a barn, pleading for peace 
 with God. Toward morning, he felt that before God 
 would forgive him, he must forgive his own foes and 
 have them forgive his rascalities. He went at once and 
 waked up his wife s relatives, with whom he had quar 
 reled for years, and made full confession and full recon 
 ciliation. 
 
 In this time of general awakening my friend forgot to 
 look at the empty house on the hill, and even for a 
 
RISING FROM THE DEAD. 87 
 
 time neglected to go to the grave to weep there. Work 
 in the Master s vineyard diverted him from morbid 
 reflections. 
 
 In the month of August I went to Nuntundale again. 
 We made a long tramp to the mountain district in the 
 north of the island, and there camped some weeks. 
 Just before we left the high road for the by-ways of the 
 hill country, we crossed a stone bridge thrown over a 
 salt creek which pours into the channel on the west 
 of the island. I could see off to the left a spire that 
 marked the last settlement in the north, where there 
 was a ferry leading to the mainland. Here we rested a 
 little time, stretching ourselves on the cordwood which 
 in long piles was waiting transportation. 
 
 "ift was just here," said Cephas, "that my brother 
 and I separated, when we both had started to run 
 away. An old pine log, weather-worn and water- 
 soaked, left by some high tide in a great storm, was 
 lying on the edge of the marsh at this turn of the road. 
 We sat down upon it to rest, as we do now j and debated 
 whether to go back or keep on. We rose; I went 
 back, and he kept on. He crossed the ferry to the 
 main, and took shipping to the eastward ; and I never 
 saw him again. From what father could learn, we sup 
 pose that he must have been killed in the provinces a 
 few months afterwards by the Indians." 
 
 Cephas brother, it seems, ran away in resisting re 
 ligious convictions: being determined to get rid of 
 home influences and the moral pressure which rested 
 
88 RISING FROM THE DEAD. 
 
 upon him constantly in the house of his mother. I 
 could not learn that his mother was peculiarly injudi 
 cious ; but he was a very self-willed, independent lad 
 with a strong love for adventure. He began to rock in 
 the boats of the fishermen as soon as he was out of his 
 cradle; and longed to attempt the world as early as 
 possible. Although his conscience kept at him to be 
 come a Christian, he had a very strong distaste for 
 spiritual things. And Cephas himself was much in the 
 same case, strong in spirit, self-reliant, impatient to cut 
 out his own career, and somehow strongly set against 
 yielding to the home training which so powerfully led 
 in the way of a Christian life ; though the principle of 
 filial obedience was more prominent in his character 
 than in that of his brother. 
 
 Their mother was not only kind after the common 
 sort, but of very deep sympathies to put herself in the 
 place of her children. Her religious nature was so 
 strong that every one felt its influence who was brought 
 in contact with her. Every week since her boys could 
 remember, she had prayed with each alone, and con 
 versed with them about the Fatherhood of God, and 
 His warm love for them, and the Divine help in their 
 common struggles with sin. But the devil took strong 
 hold on them both; or according to Cephas account 
 of it, they took hold on the devil. The Holy One also 
 bore a part in the contest for the boys. It became hot 
 work; and the evil angel persuaded them to run away. 
 The battle was fought out on this log. Here in this 
 obscure wayside spot, where sleds from the wood meet 
 
RISING FROM THE DEAD. 89 
 
 scows from the sea, was a great victory and a sad 
 defeat. 
 
 As we once more took to the road, I questioned 
 Cephas again and again for his old stories of Nuntun- 
 dale life and his early home, which he had related to 
 me so often when we were boys together, and very 
 particularly one long string of fish stories which he first 
 told me on a dark and rainy evening, when we were 
 catching horn pouts in a shallow cove of Lake Penna- 
 cook. 
 
 Our camping place, which we reached next day, was 
 by the side of a high forest lake in the heart of the 
 hills, where a wild stream poured in. There was a 
 little cave in the rocks half veiled by vines; and the 
 growth at that point was open, of yellow birch five or 
 six flftt in girth. Across the lake appeared the stern 
 desolation of mountain scenery, with high crags over 
 hanging the water. Going out upon the glassy waves 
 we could see behind our camp, and east, and west, 
 shattered masses of rock rising to the dignity of small 
 mountains from twelve to eighteen hundred feet high. 
 All these hills slope gently to the north, but are precip 
 itous on the south. The slopes are clothed with forest ; 
 but the southern faces are very abrupt, ragged and 
 torn, cut with sharp chasms, rough with broken ledges, 
 and rendered unsightly by a criss-cross mixture of 
 living, dying and dead trees, shrubs and thorn bushes. 
 
 When we were out in our flat-bottomed boat we felt 
 fierce gusts of wind coming through the gorges or 
 sweeping down from the shoulders of the hills, when- 
 
90 RISING FROM THE DEAD. 
 
 ever showers were coming up or when the wind was 
 changing. In our hemlock lodge at the cave s mouth, 
 we were sometimes awaked at midnight by the wind 
 suddenly rising and roaring among the mountains; 
 then all would be quiet again in half an hour. So were 
 we fanned by mighty hands, while cities were swelter 
 ing. More than once, we went out upon the lake, long 
 after nightfall, to waken the echoes, which sleep among 
 the hills. 
 
 Many days were spent upon the tops of the moun 
 tains, searching out their different views of forest and 
 sea, and watching the motions of the clouds, as their 
 dark shadows swiftly sailed over unmeasured leagues 
 of wave and wood. The sea, in sweeping around the 
 head of the island, comes very near the base of the hills 
 west and east, and close to the high point on the^lorth 
 opposite our shelter. The deep indentation of the 
 eastern shore of the island abounds in ledges cropping 
 out of the waves; sometimes bare, or, again, having 
 two or three lone trees like ships with green sails; and 
 occasionally considerable areas of rock and soil and 
 tangled wood. There are perhaps a dozen islands of 
 some magnitude. A great part of the water-way be 
 tween these mountains and the Bald Cliff at the other 
 extremity of the island near Cephas house, is filled 
 with these islets. They are very picturesque, but prove 
 sad stumbling stones in the way of mariners. These 
 little crumbs and clippings of land upon the one side, 
 together with the windings of the western channel 
 which is often very wide, give the impression as seen 
 
RISING FROM THE DEAD. 91 
 
 from the mountain tops that one is in the midst of a 
 great lake district, made up by scores of fingers and 
 arms of the sea thrust into uncounted scraps of land. 
 Not uncounted, however. There are just three hun 
 dred and sixty-six islands in this archipelago ; Lake 
 Millenoket in Maine, Casco Bay, Lake George, and 
 Lake Winnipiseogee having exactly three hundred and 
 sixty-five each. Nuntundale archipelago was made 
 leap year. 
 
 The steepest sides of these hills bear abundance of 
 berries, and the woods are alive with small game. 
 Stream and lake are well stocked with fish. About a 
 mile southwest of us was a clearing and small farm ; 
 which was our grocery, hen house and dairy. Through 
 this farm runs the outlet of the lake, with mouth in the 
 westAi channel. 
 
 While we were in camp the settler s wife died sud 
 denly. And I happened there the same day. Having 
 first recited some of the customary texts of comfort, I 
 asked him if I should read the Bible and pray with him. 
 Then I went to the distant town to make ready for the 
 funeral. Next day Cephas went with me to the house, 
 and he scarcely seemed to notice the bereaved man 
 when he entered the room, but sat down in silence 
 covering his face with his hand. After a few moments 
 he drew his chair to the side of the husband, and 
 placing his hand upon him, said, 
 
 " I know all about it. I have been through it all." 
 
 Then he was quiet. And when the wounded man 
 laid his arm upon Cephas shoulder and wept, I saw 
 
92 RISING FROM THE DEAD. 
 
 the strange freemasonry of grief which made these 
 men brethren. By and by Cephas dropped upon his 
 knees and prayed : 
 
 "We have said, O Lord, Thy will be done; but we 
 have not known what we were saying. Is it Thy will, 
 Our Father, that our homes should be broken up ? 
 
 " Thy judgments are a great deep. Plunging among 
 the billows we rebel against Thee. But rebuke us not 
 in anger, neither chasten us in hot displeasure. 
 
 " Our sorrow is continually before us. Make there 
 fore Thy face to shine in the place of darkness. Our 
 souls wait for Thee more than they that watch for the 
 morning." 
 
 This was uttered amid the sobbings of two men, 
 with slow and measured emphasis j and every word was 
 made the prayer of him whose sorrow was freRi, as 
 truly as of him who had the elder grief. When Cephas 
 had again sat silently for some time holding the suf 
 ferer by the hand, he rose up with these words, 
 
 " There is nothing to be said. All we can do is to 
 pray. You cannot do that now. I will try to pray for 
 you." 
 
 As Cephas went out, I followed, thinking that I did 
 not know much about comforting the sorrowful with 
 my glib tongue and ready texts. Grief is a deeper 
 thing than I then knew. 
 
 It was while we were in this camp that Cephas told 
 me for the first and only time some things about the 
 dead Helen. They had loved each other as little chil 
 dren. Her parents occupied a part of the Phantom 
 
RISING FROM THE DEAD. 93 
 
 House ; and she was born there soon after Cephas as a 
 child moved into it. Helen became like a sister to 
 him ; and he seemed nearer to her than her own broth 
 ers, who were of coarser make. These young friends 
 were very fond of "playing cousin," as they called it; 
 sitting on the limbs of the orchard or the sill of the 
 woodshed, and in the thousand and one places where 
 children love to play. In this game of kindred they 
 told the most marvelous tales of foreign travel, and 
 imaginary adventure of every sort; an amusement 
 with all the charm of fairy story, and wonderfully stim 
 ulating to the inventive faculty. Helen s religious life, 
 early developed, had a great influence upon Cephas; 
 and, from one thing he said, I was led to think that 
 this was a make-weight in the scales he balanced, when 
 he sat on the log debating whether to keep on with 
 his runaway brother. 
 
 During the years in which Cephas and I were lads 
 together, and in his school days, he kept up a corre 
 spondence with Helen at intervals. Oddly enough, as 
 it seemed to me, their friendship had never taken other 
 shape than that of brother and sister. Much as they 
 loved each other, they had at that age no sentiment 
 which looked forward to a common walk together 
 through life. And when Cephas actually "fell in love," 
 it was not with Helen. He dreamed by night and by 
 day of one who certainly never lost a wink of sleep on 
 his account : but he learned eventually to look on these 
 sweet months of agony as affording a pleasant insight 
 into the common experiences of the race, without 
 
94 RISING FROM THE DEAD. 
 
 which he could have hardly deemed himself human; 
 and the whole thing was Jaid away in a corner of his 
 mind to afford sometime a paragraph in book-making, 
 as Goethe looked on the different phases of life as only 
 the stuff to make into poems or tales. 
 
 And Helen upon her part had just the slightest tend 
 ency to minute flirtations, and was not in the least in 
 clined to look with favor upon the rejected Cephas, 
 when, upon a high hill overlooking a broad river with 
 wide intervals, he suggested a formal contract of life 
 companionship. But she had a morbid fondness for 
 graveyards ; and, a long time after, he won her at the 
 tombstone of their most intimate common friend, who 
 had been sleeping for years. An- infant pine and baby 
 oak were, therefore, planted on the same day ; and the 
 plighted friends partook together of a butternut feast. 
 The ill-omened trees died in front of the Phantom 
 House, first the pine, then the oak, long before that 
 house was shut up by the death angel. 
 
 Almost every forenoon of the first summer they 
 spent together in their Island Home, they visited the 
 crag where Helen s body now reposes. This was Ce 
 phas study. They had joy and sorrow of their child. 
 Then, after Helen s death, there came to Cephas, for 
 many months, a sense of physical weight resting on 
 heart and brain, and semi-madness interrupted by short 
 seasons of quiet submission and of sturdy rebellion. 
 
 Further than this I never learned much about Helen. 
 Cephas was silent as the grave. Her grandest charac 
 teristic seems to have been this, that with a well-pro- 
 
RISING FROM THE DEAD. 95 
 
 portioned mind she had great power of loving and 
 leading. And her influence on the whole was the most 
 salutary of any earthly power to which he was ever 
 subjected. 
 
 " What shall I do with that house ? " asked Cephas, 
 after we had broken camp arid begun our tramp home 
 down the east of the island, purposing to follow 
 
 " the beached margent of the sea." 
 
 " I have not been near it, and I cannot, and will not. 
 I wish you would burn it for me. And then I ll leave 
 its ashes, and go to some other village to work." 
 Finding that I made no answer, he added, 
 "It seems, sometimes, as if I had been pursuing a 
 shadow all my life ; and that my love for Helen as my 
 sister and my wife was a vain thing, that she was a 
 mere phantom, dreamed of in a night and mourned for 
 in the morning. I should know this to be so, if it were 
 not for three things, that crag, that house, and my own 
 character modified by her hand. Perhaps I d better 
 burn the house : for I will never see the inside of it, or 
 let anybody else. And I ll take my character and carry 
 it off. After years have passed, when I am changed 
 through new work and new circumstances, I shall 
 look back and always believe that I have had a phan 
 tom wife, and that the whole ghostly story is untrue. 
 I shall remember it only as a beloved shadow which 
 followed me in the bright sunshine of life s morning, 
 disappearing when clouds arose to hide the heavens 
 
96 RISING FROM THE DEAD. 
 
 and darken the earth. And when, now in a little 
 while, my eyes, long too dim to discern the face of 
 Jesus, again behold Him as He is, He will be to me 
 my constant companion, and I shall be content The 
 opening heavens will sometime give me my own again ; 
 but we shall then be so thoroughly wedded to the lov 
 ing God, that we shall forget to blame Him for any 
 fancied unkindness in His strange dealing with us in 
 that house on the hill." 
 
 We walked on silently until we came to the shore of 
 the sea, when Cephas called to mind the theory of 
 some of Augustine s contemporaries that the Latin 
 name for "bath" derived its name from its power to 
 remove mental depression. We took a salt bath, and 
 talked no more of graves or unsightly houses. 
 
 That night, looking back to the mountains, we saw a 
 red cloud at sunset reposing on the peak which stood 
 west of the lake. After sunset, hard featured clouds 
 marked the western sky. The wind freshened ; and an 
 hour before daybreak, thrusting my head from out our 
 covering, I saw that whole mountain a pyramid of fire. 
 In the tornado of flames, that swept from the north 
 west over the peak and through the timber toward our 
 camp, the settler s house was burned. 
 
 A few months later, when the year was about to 
 come round after Helen s death, I went again to Nun- 
 tundale. As that fatal day dawned, all through its 
 gloomy hours and in the early evening, Cephas seemed 
 so much depressed, and his conduct was so singu- 
 
RISING FROM THE DEAD. 97 
 
 lar, that I felt for the first time thoroughly alarmed. 
 When, therefore, about bedtime, he put on his great 
 coat and went out into the moonlight, I secretly fol 
 lowed him. I saw him stealthily approach the Phan 
 tom House and sit down upon the doorstep, covering 
 his face with his hands. So long a time passed that I 
 grew weary of watching, and when I again looked that 
 way he had gone. Hastening to the house, I found 
 that a window had been opened in the sitting room; 
 and drawing near I heard my friend s voice : 
 
 " I give, O Lord, this house to Thee, with all its 
 precious and painful memories. Take it and use it. 
 Fill it with Thy presence, and then I shall think of no 
 other presence here." Then the voice was low, and I 
 only heard uncertain words relating to "the old red 
 trunk." And then the question, " Is not life, O Lord, 
 made for work and not for mourning?" 
 
 In the long silence which followed, I saw, in the full 
 moon s light, that he was kneeling at the arm chair 
 with the dress of the dying hanging at its back, and the 
 New Testament in his hands. And I could not resist 
 the suggestion made by my privileged friendship to 
 enter and kneel by his side, which I did without appar 
 ently attracting his attention. 
 
 "Let me, O Holy One," I said, "be instructed by 
 sorrow without passing through it. Make my heart 
 soft with sympathy for wounded souls; and make my 
 hands hard with toil for them. And may I sometime 
 know what it is to say Thy will be done. 
 
 " No, O Lord, I dare not pray so. Not yet can I 
 5 
 
98 RISING FROM THE DEAD. 
 
 ask to be taught that lesson. Not yet am I ready to be 
 torn in pieces, and thrown helpless at Thy feet. Nev 
 ertheless, teach me if I must know it. And let not my 
 life pass by without life s best discipline. 
 
 " And now, Thou Infinite Spirit, fill this house, and 
 make it fit for habitation. Thou who art the Compan 
 ion of men, Bridegroom of the soul, take Thou this 
 lonely man. May he bear the choicest of earthly 
 names, and be called * the friend of the Bridegroom. 
 Place Thy loving hand upon him. And may this 
 desolated house be one of Thy many mansions. Pre 
 pare it for him with such furnishing that here and now 
 he may find heaven in it." 
 
 We went to the shore, and Cephas flung the casket 
 key into the deep waters. And the next morning I 
 saw another key upon his study table, marked "The 
 Old Red Trunk." 
 
 Those who are novices in grief need not read the 
 wicked thing I am about to say. But those who have 
 grown old in sorrows must have learned to do one of 
 the most fearful things we can dream of, in deliberately 
 turning their backs on dear graves and forgetting the 
 dead. The most sensitive spirits in the world come so 
 near to the bitterness of death or to madness in their 
 experience of suffering, that as a mere sanitary measure 
 they must firmly, in unutterable agony, turn away from 
 the dead. For the love of God they must do it. They 
 must not use up all the powers of life in mourning, but 
 turn away and seek to serve the living. Who does not 
 know that we may not dare to get all the benefit of our 
 
RISING FROM THE DEAD. 99 
 
 greatest griefs in this life ? From many of our heaviest 
 sorrows we receive some advantage, then we are com 
 pelled by the weakness of the flesh to lay them aside 
 for a time, and recur to them as we can bear it j but we 
 can hardly hope to have strength to face them fully till 
 we are rid of our flesh. And then, perhaps, we shall 
 be so taken up with the glory revealed that we shall 
 forget that we had great complaints to make to our 
 God. 
 
 Late in the winter, I received a letter from Cephas, 
 in which it appeared that he was living in the Phantom 
 House, at work on the Red Trunk. 
 
 " I had a terrible time in re-arranging the house. I 
 am not yet myself again. God leads me, and I cling 
 fast to His hand, sadly stumbling in the way and blind 
 with tears. Whether on the whole I grow strong 
 or weak I cannot tell. I think that I am growing 
 stronger, for I suppose the process ought to tend to 
 that j but it is a very weakening way through which to 
 gain strength." 
 
 A month later he wrote : 
 
 " I know that somehow I have come into possession 
 of a mourning ring. A wicker work basket is on my 
 table, with thimbles and needles and half-finished work. 
 Articles of woman s dress and ornament are continually 
 in sight. I find, too, a closet and trunkful of cloth 
 ing and housewife s work. How I came into the pos 
 session I know not. I do not dare to search the past 
 and find out. I have bitter pictures in my mind that I 
 
loo RISING FROM THE DEAD. 
 
 shut off as soon as they appear. I remember a casket, 
 and funeral songs, and a winter scene at the grave s 
 mouth. I have also in mind what would be the glad 
 dest scenes in life ; but they are so deeply shrouded in 
 black that I dare not think of them. I am conscious 
 that my inner man has been greatly changed within a 
 few years ; I have however no heart to analyze the 
 matter. I only drive straight on with no retrospect; 
 and pray God for help to do His will each day. I am 
 satisfied that I can never think my way out of these 
 difficulties, but I can work my way out." 
 
 As the religious quickening of his people the year 
 before had begun to divert him from his grief, and to 
 reform his shattered habits of work, so now a rigid ad 
 herence to the business of putting an extension on his 
 Red Trunk, led him little by little into a normal state 
 again. And the cultivation of the acquaintance of the 
 Heavenly Friend gave his heart rest. The tendrils of 
 love fastened more and more upon the Undying One. 
 By personal contact and by his letters I saw the work 
 going on, a man deliberately shutting off the precious 
 thoughts of grief, when half their treasure had not 
 been wrung from them. And I saw, month after 
 month, that he was still afflicted though consoled, as 
 the sea is still rough long after the heavens are clear 
 and the storm is past, 
 
 During many years, amid all the eagerness of new 
 courses of life, the memory of the old grief came 
 sweeping in most mournfully through the early months 
 of winter. Looking back now I can see that while the 
 
RISING FROM THE DEAD. 101 
 
 Holy One forsook him not, he rather needed the loving 
 hand of an earthly companion, for his lonely life in 
 later years lacked a little that nice balance and fair pro 
 portion which Helen s friendship was likely to give. 
 He needed to be anchored to a good home. " Where 
 no hedge is there the possession is spoiled : and he 
 that hath no wife will wander up and down mourning." 
 It shames me that I was no more to him than I was. 
 But he clung to me after Helen s death. And though 
 I had my own house in time, yet so far as man and 
 man can be one in love we were more thoroughly 
 united than when we were children or in the earlier 
 manhood. As the interior life unfolded our love grew 
 stronger, and somehow we fitted the better into each 
 other s personal peculiarities. His thoughts of Helen 
 fastened upon her new experiences in the heavenly 
 country. And no child s vision of life in the romantic 
 isles of distant seas is so sweet as that which every 
 friend has of a future reunion with loved ones in the 
 Unseen Country. Do we not love our God the more 
 for that wisdom which so made us that we need finite 
 friends as well as the Infinite. For human love 
 
 " is the scale 
 By which to heavenly love thou mayst ascend." 
 
102 THE FISHING VILLAGE. 
 
 VII. 
 THE FISHING VILLAGE. 
 
 CEPHAS Island Home, his birth place and his 
 house of sorrow, is a hallowed memory so 
 sacred that I hardly allow a year to pass without 
 re-visiting it. While it is not now as it was then, yet 
 the spot where Helen s body lies is a shrine to which I 
 can never forget to make my pilgrimage. 
 
 The reader will, however, bear with me, if I also 
 state that whenever I cross the bridge from the Island 
 Home, and enter the Fishing Village which was Ce 
 phas parish, my emotions are altogether of another 
 sort. I may as well say frankly that it is a great diver 
 sion to me to go there year by year. And the mental 
 make up of my friend Cephas can never be understood 
 without some acquaintance with this town; since, 
 whether or not he helped make the town, he was him 
 self marked by the men he worked with and by the 
 material surroundings. Cephas always expressed the 
 warmest affection for the people of this village, so kind 
 were they, so frank, so hearty in good traits as well as 
 bad ; but I have sometimes thought it was, after all, the 
 quaintness of both people and town, which held him so 
 
THE FISHING VILLAGE. 103 
 
 fast to them in all after wanderings. He always spoke 
 of this village as his home, not so much because it was 
 associated with his childhood, as on account of his con 
 nection with it in more mature years. He loved every 
 rod of the soil, the rocks and the buildings, and all the 
 sinners and all the saints who dwelt there. 
 
 Men and women abiding in sober villages inland, 
 have little idea of the way people live in some of these 
 towns by the sea. The Fishing Village is a queer old 
 place. Rocky ledges rise here and there and every 
 where between the streets, so that the houses are 
 nearly all backed up against granite ; and the roads are 
 so crooked that all foot passengers go cross-lots, and 
 the gardens and backyards are dignified highways. 
 Notices to keep off are good-naturedly put up, only to 
 show bad spelling or grammatical, punctuational and 
 chirographical errors. Doctors of divinity climb fences 
 like boys; and you may look out your back window 
 and see the first selectman or the town schoolmaster or 
 the senior deacon walking along a sharp ledge in immi 
 nent danger of falling into your hen-roost. 
 
 The buildings are cut into all manner of shapes, 
 some like a doughnut and others like a bowling-alley or 
 rope-walk. Where the houses are founded upon a 
 rock, the bottom weatherboard is so notched and whit 
 tled as to fit snugly the uneven surface. Sometimes 
 the rocky foundation falls off steep four feet from the 
 front door; and, even then, all the modern improve 
 ments have to be brought round to the front of the 
 house, because the rear is so pinched up. Children 
 
104 THE FISHING VILLAGE. 
 
 slide down smooth rocks on well smoothed seats, wear 
 ing out trowsers and skirts in a manner shocking to 
 everybody but the mothers, who do not appear to mind 
 it. Goats and cows stand against the sky upon the top 
 of precipitous rocks rising sixty feet above the street, 
 and there picturesquely chew and meditate in the early 
 twilight. 
 
 Many old houses are seen where three or four gen 
 erations have lived; and each family has made an 
 addition to the mansion or subtracted from it. Several 
 of these buildings are on what has been called Hero 
 street since the war for the Union. There are not 
 twenty houses on it; but more than half the families 
 suffered from wounds or death. One of these heroes 
 in the trenches at Knoxville, picked off seventeen men 
 in one day with his rifle, as if he had been partridge 
 shooting in the north woods. 
 
 Some of the houses are so old as to antedate civiliza 
 tion. Here is one log-house which has worn clap 
 boards so long, that men have forgotten what it is 
 made of. Pull off this painted cuticle, and you have 
 one of the first settlers. In like manner, if you were to 
 tear off the clapboards on the front side of the princi 
 pal dry goods establishment in the town, you would 
 find the doors of a barn. 
 
 One day when I was passing through the village, a 
 house which had been occupied as a tavern, so long 
 ago as when witches were swinging in Salem, was in 
 process of demolition. Like an aged lobster putting 
 on a new claw, this old house had many years since 
 
THE FISHING VILLAGE. 105 
 
 developed on one of its extremities a new dwelling ; 
 but in this case the claw was bigger than the original 
 lobster and better too. Hence, as the years rolled by, 
 the old shell became less and less respectable; till at 
 last its age was its only recommendation. At this 
 crisis the old thing was owned by a Frenchman, and 
 the new thing by an Irishman ; the former every inch a 
 hero and devoted to his new country, and the latter a 
 most estimable citizen. The man of Erin, however, felt 
 a little loath to separate the old shell from his house ; 
 and the man of Gaul wanted the ground the old relic 
 stood on to raise sorrel for his delicious soups. More 
 over, the Hibernian had in his chambers a tenant not 
 having all the Christian virtues ; and the gentleman 
 from France, as great a tactician in his way as Napo 
 leon, set about getting rid of his neighbor s tenant and 
 his own old house by the same bit of strategy. 
 
 For this purpose he employed a good hearted fellow 
 and skilled workman, now happily a sober man and 
 excellent neighbor, but then burdened year after year 
 by hard bondage to his cups. He is now ready himself 
 to laugh gaily over his old misadventures as well as to 
 mourn his former misery. He can well afford to be 
 merry before men and thankful before God; for there 
 is no man in his town who has proved himself to be so 
 truly a nobleman as he in heroic self-conquest and 
 triumph over temptation. This young man with his 
 bad habits was put into the old tavern house for a 
 tenant ; and. by the time he had several sprees the Celt 
 surrendered at discretion, dismissed his termagant, and 
 
106 THE FISHING VILLAGE. 
 
 began to tear the old house down, so that the French 
 artillery was withdrawn. 
 
 Best of all, however, was the attempt made to reform 
 the unfortunate slave of drink by Beeping him awake 
 nights killing bedbugs. It was anticipated by his land 
 lord that he would earn his rent; but the influence of 
 the conflict upon his habits was known only by trial. 
 The neighbors, at any time of night, during certain 
 seasons of the year, would look out to see the extermi 
 nator of vermin going about his house with a candle, 
 passing one window after another in search for the 
 enemies of the peace of his family. As a devoted hus 
 band and affectionate father, in his sober moments, he 
 wished to preserve some fragments of his loved ones 
 from being devoured by the innumerable hosts, which 
 had occupied that house since 1690. These old pen 
 sioners which had come down to him from a former 
 generation were therefore ruthlessly destroyed; and 
 this work kept the man sober during no small fraction 
 of the year. What temperance societies had attempted 
 in vain, seemed now about to be accomplished by 
 these ante-revolutionary reformers. But the witty fel 
 low learned their habits, and between their semi-annual 
 seasons of activity, he would have his drinking frolics. 
 And so, at last, he had to move out. On the very 
 morning I passed that way, I saw the tenant disputing 
 with his landlord, and offsetting the rent bill of six dol 
 lars with a bill of twenty dollars for vinegar used up in 
 pickling the foes of his family. 
 
 As I stood by watching the lively timbers, expecting 
 
THE FISHING VILLAGE. 107 
 
 to see them dragged off bodily by their inhabitants, one 
 of the principal citizens of the town seeing that I was a 
 stranger took me in, so far as his confidence was con 
 cerned; and I was. shown some of the lions and lions 
 dens of the town. 
 
 We went to the court house, where Captain Colby 
 administered justice. The Esquire was fond of legal 
 phrases ; but when a sharp lawyer, in a case of assault 
 and battery, insisted upon a definition of the term 
 prima fade evidence, the court declared that " Prima 
 fade evidence means hitting him right in the head." 
 
 Close by the court house stood the antique school 
 building; where the master, in former years, used to 
 punish the boys by shaking them out of the second- 
 story window. My guide had a vivid memory of the 
 day, when he was thus held by two strong hands with 
 his face downward, and snapped till he thought the 
 homespun woftld give way and let him out. 
 
 Next to this seminary of learning lived Captain Bill 
 Tucker, the truthful skipper, who once lost his watch 
 overboard as he sailed into the mouth of a distant 
 port ; by notching the ship s rail where it went down, he 
 found it when he next sailed that way, and took it up 
 with his long tongs. " And the most remarkable thing 
 about it," added Captain Bill, " was that it was still 
 running." He could not account for it, unless it was 
 the daily running in and out of the tide that kept it 
 wound up. 
 
 I went round to one of the houses I had passed with 
 Cephas, upon that drizzly day of our mournful walk 
 
Io8 THE FISHING VILLAGE. 
 
 when the Phantom House was always in sight. Here 
 dwelt Pulsifer, an itinerant portrait painter, who scaled 
 his fish in the sand. He trundled a wheelbarrow in 
 his travels, so as to have a seat handy whenever he 
 wanted to rest. Picked up dead drunk one day, his 
 obituary was printed ; and it so angered him that he 
 threatened the editor with fearful punishment if his 
 death should ever be put in the paper again, unless he 
 should give personal authority for it. 
 
 The aged fisherman, in the next house, had a little 
 notoriety among the boys for his fairness to fish ; 
 always tenderly taking off the hook and putting back 
 into the water any that were unfortunately drawn up by 
 accidentally catching on the sharp point in his pulling 
 it up, when they were not biting. 
 
 Hanging around the loafing places of this village, I 
 found men, who fell further in Adam than any other lot 
 I ever came across in so small a community: beetles of 
 the dunghill type, loafers too foul to live; long and 
 lank and also pot-bellied rumsellers, cursing their 
 neighbors children ; poor fellows oscillating with fear 
 ful regularity between their own tumble-down homes 
 and well-to-do grog-shops ; lazy bones wearing out their 
 clothes in sitting on dry-goods boxes while their aged 
 mothers had to cut their own firewood. 
 
 Again, there were men, following what Captain John 
 Smith off Tragabigzanda called "this contemptible 
 trade in fish," who would have been a credit to the 
 company of the apostles. When an old gambler 
 thought it the respectable thing to join the church, he 
 
THE FISHING VILLAGE. 109 
 
 was told to make application to him who was called 
 "the Apostolic Fisherman." Edward Lee answered 
 that he would let him know "if there was any va 
 cancy." This fisherman had more skill than most pas 
 tors in leading men out of darkness into light. 
 
 It was the apostolic man, Edward Lee, who was to 
 Cephas more than all books of comfort save one. He 
 had buried his own wife years before, and his sons 
 were on distant voyages. In the first place, he had the 
 good sense to let his pastor alone. Not so, Simeon 
 Thorn, the fish merchant, who met Cephas within a 
 week of Helen s death, and said, 
 
 " Sair loss, sir. But you ll soon git over it ; and 
 marry, maybe, a woman ill suit you better." 
 
 Did not Edward Lee leave his pastor to his own 
 sorrow? To be sure he saw him on the day of the 
 funeral, and he took hold of his hand; and his own 
 hard hand was soft with sympathy ; and the tears rolled 
 down his weather-beaten cheeks : but he did not say a 
 word, not he. And when the sad procession started 
 for the crag, Lee saw the pastor walking alone, and 
 without saying by your leave, he walked beside 
 him. 
 
 " At first/ said Cephas, " I was shocked, but when I 
 saw his face wet as if a northeaster had blown the 
 brine into it, I took his arm : but he did not speak to 
 me." 
 
 . Lee went to the parson s house next day to see if he 
 would try a line for cod. And they sailed many miles 
 over the blue waves amid white caps : a miserable day 
 
I io THE FISHING VILLAGE. 
 
 for fishing as none knew better than the skipper ; but a 
 good day for sailing amid the crested billows. 
 
 " For the hour," said Cephas, " I forgot my sorrow \ 
 but Lee did not speak of Helen. Just as we touched 
 the wharf, however, he told me about a young man 
 who was very thoughtful about spiritual interests, and 
 asked me to go and see him. And, in seeing him, my 
 mind wandered for the moment from the great grief." 
 
 Lee was the main stay in the great religious reforma 
 tion that followed. 
 
 When the mackerel season came round, as they were 
 following the schools, the rough man tenderly told 
 Cephas the story of his own dead wife. " He made no 
 logical therefore and application, " said the pastor, 
 " but I could see that he understood my case." 
 
 This same wise man, not long before my second visit 
 to the Island Home had exchanged his fare of fish for 
 a half barrel of old books in the metropolis; and as 
 he trundled the little library to his pastor s door, he 
 said, 
 
 " I must be plain with you, minister. You need to 
 rise up from your mourning like a man, and go to 
 work. You don t care for cod and mackerel catching : 
 an I have brought you other fish to make." 
 
 It was this scaly library that had given Cephas the 
 impetus he needed to go into the Phantom House to 
 reopen his Red Trunk. 
 
THE OLD RED TRUNK. Ill 
 
 VIII. 
 THE OLD RED TRUNK. 
 
 SUMMER after our camp in the mountains, 
 I found Cephas in a new parish in another part 
 of Nuntundale ; on the mainland, but still by the 
 sea shore. It was one of those towns whose chief char 
 acteristics are pine woods, sandy roads and red farm 
 houses. Entering my friend s study with feet of wool, 
 I found him bending over his Old Red Trunk. It was 
 full of envelopes and paper-bags, stuffed and labelled. 
 
 "What have you here?" I asked, in a gruff voice, 
 close behind his shoulder, " Garden Seeds ? " 
 
 "Yea," he replied, "seeds for the garden of the 
 Lord. Won t you have some ? " 
 
 And he held up a two quart bag, filled with little 
 scraps of paper scrabbled all over in lead pencil. 
 These were "ideas," I was informed. The trunk 
 would hold about a bushel and a half I should think. 
 
 Turning to the study table, I found a hammer-head 
 lying on it for a paper weight. It had been made by a 
 man, who began life an obscure blacksmith and rose to 
 fame among all carpenters, by making the best ham 
 mers in America. His motto was " not to undersell but 
 
112 THE OLD RED TRUNK. 
 
 to excel," to make the very best work and charge 
 price enough to pay for it. He had often stood at his 
 forge fifteen hours a day. 
 
 Looking upon the wall over Cephas study table, I 
 saw the words, "Good work wanted here." 
 
 That evening, strolling on the beach, we had a long 
 talk about this trunk business. Heavy and substantial 
 as it appeared, it was nothing more nor less than one of 
 my friend s phantoms. At least so- I thought then. 
 He was aiming to learn to write, as well as he could, 
 furnishing himself with the best raw material, trusting 
 to years of discipline to teach him the art of putting 
 things. This simple purpose, which he had early 
 formed, was now bearing hard upon him with all the 
 weight of iron necessity. The Old Red Trunk, which 
 was his storehouse of writing stuff, had controlling 
 sway over his soul; all things bending to this. 
 
 I had seen the face of this phantom before. It was 
 one of the things Cephas talked about with me in the 
 woods, when we were boys together. So great was his 
 diligence in his school days, that he was very foolish 
 and very wise in the same act. He neglected to go to 
 a neighboring city to hear an eminent orator, saying 
 that no one would ever stir out of his tracks to hear 
 Cephas, if he did not stick to his study and learn how 
 to use the English language to some purpose. Wisely 
 minding his business, he knew not that he would be 
 helped by listening to one of unsurpassed skill in 
 speech. He was intent on one thing ; he was mad to 
 learn how to write. I have known him, more than 
 
THE OLD RED TRUNK. 1 13 
 
 once, to spend a whole half day walking in mud and 
 rain, manufacturing a sentence, which supplied only 
 four or six words to his sermon. 
 
 "Great fool is he," said an old man, who sawed half 
 a cord of wood in my shed while Cephas put twenty 
 words together. 
 
 I thought it the height of folly for Cephas to try to 
 gain skill in the use of the English language ; but I had 
 great hopes of myself, for I could compose two pages to 
 his one. He was always seeking an ideal too high for 
 me to think about. When he first began to read the 
 Greek authors he was often at me with questioning, 
 What are the elements of enduring power as an 
 author? Is it possible to do good work which shall 
 stand age after age ? Once, when we were talking all 
 one winter night, Cephas suddenly roused up towards 
 morning in a great state of excitement about the pyra 
 mids. The hills, he said, were leveled to make stand 
 ing places for these granite piles. A hundred thousand 
 men then worked ten years in preparing a causeway 
 by which to carry stones, before they were ready to 
 build. 
 
 "And," said he, sitting up in bed, "it is by some 
 such laborious preparation that we ought to make 
 ready for doing solid work that will stand through the 
 centuries. We must labor patiently through manifold 
 years; planning far ahead, not being afraid to take a 
 score of years for getting ready to do the work of the 
 next score. I expect to live till I am sixty, and I mean 
 to calculate accordingly. If I don t know enough to 
 
 > > 0* TffK ^^ 
 
"4 THE OLD RED TRUNK. 
 
 make a consistent plan for forty odd years of hard 
 work, you may write me down a fool." 
 
 The only reply I ventured on, was to tell him that he 
 would die before seven, if he did not go to sleep before 
 six. 
 
 Now, twelve years later, I saw the same wild notions 
 possessing him. Here was his Old Red Trunk, which 
 had been carted and sledded and shipped many thou 
 sands of miles since his father bought it when he 
 started for the academy: here was the original school 
 boy s treasure house, which had held walnuts, dough 
 nuts, apples, apple-dumpling, stockings out at the heel, 
 rent trowsers, lexicons, pocket libraries, fish-lines, 
 knives, a short rifle, foul linen, white vests, old shoes, 
 boot blacking, and at least once a lot of perfumed love 
 letters tied up in white ribbon: here was this old red 
 haired stager now turned into a receptacle of "ideas," 
 good, bad, indifferent, facts that were not facts, bad 
 logic, mixed metaphors, similes in shocking taste, a 
 peck of quotations from Thomas Almanac and Tom 
 Hood and Tom Jones and various poets and professors 
 and philosophers, with pen sketches of savages and 
 hints of adventures and authentic stories of ghosts and 
 nightmare; all this was the beginning of his stock in 
 trade toward some kind of authorship, be it sermons or 
 what not: this was the Old Red Trunk; and he was 
 likely, I thought, to go mad over it. 
 
 " I tell you what it is, Edward," said Cephas, as we 
 were stretched upon the sand at the verge of the incom 
 ing tide, " I would not give much for my life s ministry, 
 
THE OLD RED TRUNK. 115 
 
 if I were not to take the first ten years of it to prepare 
 for the rest. My school days were cut short, and they 
 must be lengthened. If it was wise for me to go to the 
 schools at all, instead of imposing myself on a parish as 
 soon as I determined to be a minister, I am now right 
 in thinking these first years of parochial care merely 
 preparation for the better work I ought to do. Wisdom 
 justifies me in moving from one little parish to another 
 to accommodate my studies. I have no purpose to set 
 tle down and stay put, till I get through the course I 
 am now engaged in. And I hope, before I fairly com 
 plete it, to be out upon the border where I belong." 
 
 It appeared, as we conversed, that some years since 
 Cephas had mapped out a ten years plan of reading 
 and investigation upon the topics taken up in a 
 theological seminary course ; and that he had been 
 systematically studying biblical literature, iheology, ec 
 clesiastical history and homiletics. Courageously car 
 rying forward these studies week in and week out, he 
 had, meantime, faithfully performed parochial duties, 
 and preached as well as he could without interfering 
 with his regular work. Whenever his studies asked 
 him to move, he pulled up and was off; and then set 
 down his Old Red Trunk in a new place. By occa 
 sionally moving, he could manage the pulpit supply 
 more easily. 
 
 "What business," I asked, as we drew back a little 
 to keep out of the rising water, " What business have 
 you to be reading so much in church fathers, old histo 
 ries, antiquities, no end of dry commentaries, tough old 
 
"6 THE OLD RED TRUNK. 
 
 fashioned theology, dead sermons of dead men, books 
 of hard science, amusing travel, entertaining biography, 
 essays and poetry, when you ought to be making new 
 sermons every week for your people ? " 
 
 "I am not ready to make sermons," he replied, "I 
 am not yet in the ministry. I am only a theological 
 student ; my ordination ought not to stand in the way 
 of my usefulness. I would as soon think of hugging a 
 planet, as to try to handle some of the topics upon 
 which I ought to make sermons. It is suitable for me 
 to testify my love to Christ, and earnestly call all men 
 to Him, and work hard to bring them, but I am not 
 ready to fulfil my ministry. 
 
 " Is it not right to devote a fair section of life to fur 
 nishing my mind with materials for better work in 
 sermon making? Do I not need to be informed, and 
 to gain discipline in the study of the highest themes? 
 Unless I read most carefully and patiently some of 
 the best books in every department relating to my pro 
 fession, I cannot attain to the highest usefulness 
 possible to me. I ought to attempt more than mere 
 extemporizing on paper. Instead, therefore, of begin 
 ning my ministry with spending four days every week 
 in preparing one sermon, I set out long ago to take 
 four days every week for study on my carefully selected 
 course of the choicest books in the four departments 
 of theological training: thinking as hard as I can in 
 connection with the reading; and writing down my 
 thoughts at the time, and riling them away in paper 
 bags for my Old Trunk. 
 
THE OLD RED TRUNK. 117 
 
 " Some of this stuff will be of use to me, when, after a 
 few years, I give four days in a week to making ser 
 mons. No small part of these paper scraps will be 
 burned ; but that will be better than if I had put them 
 into shape and called them sermons before burning. 
 What I chiefly value in this course of study far above 
 these miserable notes is the mental discipline I gain 
 by it. More breadth of thinking, and depth, and 
 force, which I so greatly need, should grow out 
 of long, close and quickening contact with the best 
 thinkers of the world. * Narrow, shallow, forceless, 
 are the words to write on the outside of my sermons." 
 
 " Well, I guess you are right on that," said I, pulling 
 off my boots. "But what was that I heard you say 
 years ago, about your writing books? If you can t 
 make half a barrel of sermons without studying twenty 
 years before you make one, it will take you at least a 
 century and a half to get ready to write a book." 
 
 "Well, sir," he answered, taking off his coat, "I don t 
 propose to write more than a mackerel kit of sermons." 
 
 "That is the right figger," I exclaimed. " Stale, 
 flat, and unprofitable as salt mackerel. Hamlet." 
 
 "If," continued Cephas, "besides all the things I 
 make in the name of "sermons, extemporizing on 
 paper or in the pulpit to keep the Sabbath services 
 fresh and profitable, I ever have two hundred care 
 fully prepared manuscripts, I will re-write and condense 
 again and again, till the result of forty years study is 
 packed into fifty compositions. And if all the mental 
 discipline and power from on High that I can get in 
 
"8 THE OLD RED TRUNK. 
 
 forty years of close work directed to a single end, can 
 not put together the ideas I may acquire so that they 
 shall be readable, I have no purpose to become an 
 author. I propose for my first and only business to 
 make sermons. The current wants of my people I will 
 meet today. And if, thirty years hence, my life work 
 in the study is boiled down" 
 
 "Maple syrup" I sweetly inserted 
 " Into half a dozen thin " 
 " Too thin " said I 
 
 "Volumes, I hope and believe that they will stand 
 a better chance to keep out of the rag-man s hands 
 than if I were to leave eighteen hundred manuscripts." 
 " Good. If you leave fifty, that will be enough." 
 After this homiletical discourse, we went in swim 
 ming. It was a hot June night with the wind off shore, 
 and uncomfortable anywhere beyond six feet of the 
 water line. After paddling about awhile in the phos 
 phorescent brine, we walked up and down the beach, 
 still talking. 
 
 "What a revelation there would be," said I, "if your 
 Red Trunk were opened to the world, and published as 
 Mahomet s scrap-book was. For I have read that part 
 of the Koran was written upon date leaves, and tab 
 lets of white stone, and shoulder bones, and bits of 
 parchment, thrown promiscuously into a box. If I 
 were you, I would not run the risk of having the good 
 and the bad published together, by some devoted friend 
 and follower such as I am. You know that I fully 
 expect to survive you. And I shall have the fun of 
 
THE OLD RED TRUNK. 1 19 
 
 picking out of this trunk white shoulder-bones, written 
 all over with sentences which the world would not 
 willingly let die. But I doubt not, there are some 
 bones that ought to rot. I hope, therefore, that you 
 will not put off book-making till you die, and leave a 
 bad job on my hands." 
 
 "Herschel," he answered, "had pluck enough to 
 spend eight years in South Africa, making observations 
 for a map of the stars of the southern hemisphere ; and 
 then to work for some years at home in completing it. 
 I should be ashamed to be so short-sighted and petty 
 in my planning as to think that I must do and die to 
 day. I will plan for longer and larger work : and if 
 the Lord removes me before the work is done, that is 
 His care, not mine ; and He is the One I work for. 
 
 " Long headed merchants, the solid men of our great 
 cities, are what they are, because they are far-sighted 
 and far-reaching. They make plans which require 
 many years ; building up new trade with distant coun 
 tries, and organizing works which are the pride of the 
 world. If they were content with the petty projects of 
 peanut peddlers, they would be like students who have 
 no purpose reaching beyond to-day, who live as it were 
 from hand to mouth. The peanut business is not to be 
 despised : but it is despicable if one never aims for the 
 noblest things in life. I do not expect to make great 
 attainments; but my work is so poor and my mind 
 develops so slowly, that it is every way better for me to 
 take up a considerable range of study before calling 
 any writing completed even after my sort. The books 
 
120 THE OLD RED TRUNK. 
 
 I read, and the thoughts I have, will throw light on 
 each other ; and my style will get more settled as the 
 years go by. Time matures thought. Experience in 
 life tends to give good sense. The ideas which have 
 ripened during many years will be worth more than the 
 raw conceptions of early life. 
 
 " My object is not primarily to print; but to prepare 
 myself to make sermons. And if, after going over cer 
 tain ground again and again, in the reading and think 
 ing and life experiences of forty years, presenting the 
 best thoughts of all former years with the additions 
 and subtractions and modifications of matter and style 
 suggested by mental growth, first in one shape and 
 then in another, and then again and still again in what 
 I suppose to be better shape still, if, after all this, 
 what remains in the bottom of my Old Red Trunk 
 is worth printing, I have no objection to its being 
 done : albeit, somebody else will look over proof, and 
 trade with publishers ; when that time comes, I hope 
 myself to be in business more to my mind." 
 
 When, that night, we kneeled to pray before sleep 
 ing, it was plain that Cephas was in some such intel 
 lectual and spiritual glow as characterized the pecul 
 iarly exalted moments I had noticed in his childhood. 
 
WHERE TO KEEP IT. 121 
 
 IX. 
 
 WHERE TO KEEP IT. 
 
 NEXT day we went out at about ten o clock, to sit 
 under the elms upon the " village-green. " This 
 plot of land was green, but there was no "vil 
 lage" save one meeting-house facing east, one store 
 fronting west, and one house looking south. On the 
 south an open plain extended half a mile to the sea. 
 Mr. Strutt s mansion was large, square, white, with 
 ample yard and high fence ; a big chimney outside, and 
 huge fireplaces with plenty of good cheer inside. Mr. 
 Strutt s store was small, white, cosy, and not much dis 
 turbed by trade. The meeting-house was one of those 
 barns which the puritans built in place of cathedrals. 
 It was surmounted by a short bell tower and a wooden 
 monument on top of it, as if some former minister had 
 been buried there. 
 
 Cephas and I had not proceeded far in our talk on 
 the question, Where to locate the Red Trunk, in a 
 big parish or a little one, when my attention was 
 drawn off by seeing a short thick-set muscular fellow 
 coming out of the house on the north of the common, 
 with both arms raised above his head holding a roll of 
 
122 WHERE TO KEEP IT. 
 
 basket work, evidently of great weight, and somewhat 
 larger than a barrel of flour. Almost immediately he 
 began turning somersets, throwing himself forward 
 upon the basket-work, and turning himself hfeels up 
 and over, and landing upon his feet again, coming 
 along the path like a great wheel. I had never seen 
 anything like this ; and I was astonished. 
 
 "That is Smith," said Cephas, "the Enon minister, 
 taking his morning exercise. That hurdle which he 
 holds in his hands is full of rice, two hundred pounds 
 of it. He had it imported from Japan, expressly for 
 his use. He is, just now, boarding at Strutt s. I be 
 lieve that he is writing a book or something of that sort. 
 He writes awhile, then rests himself by coming out 
 here and whirling over with his hurdle of rice a few 
 times ; then goes back to his work again. Let s speak 
 to him." 
 
 By this time Smith was seated cross-legged upon his 
 two hundred pound weight, in the center of the little 
 park. As we approached, I was much struck by his ap 
 pearance ; and my first impressions were confirmed by 
 our subsequent conversation, and by what Cephas after 
 wards told me about him. He is one of the most 
 genial of men with life like a sunbeam ; of fine tastes, 
 a literary judgment excelled by few, a keen wit, ready 
 sympathies, with a warm hand, unselfish as if living 
 wholly for others. This obscure man, Smith of Enon, 
 was, at that time, a thorough and painstaking student, of 
 considerable solid learning, with an indomitable spirit 
 of application, a man who would some day make his 
 
WHERE TO KEEP IT. . 123 
 
 mark in the world. This man had buried himself as 
 I should have expressed it for years, in a town with 
 out fame ; preaching to a handful of people, doing the 
 pastoral work, and studying six or eight hours a day. 
 The wide and varied culture, and wholesome habits, 
 gained in that pastorate, are bearing good fruit to-day. 
 Those who now honor him, little know of his hard toil 
 in those early years of obscurity. 
 
 It was this man, who was ready to take up the battle 
 axe upon Cephas side, in our discussion that morning. 
 Cephas had argued that it was best to keep the Old 
 Red Trunk for some years upon a wheelbarrow, so that 
 it could be easily trundled from one town to another ; 
 but I suggested some important parish, and a fixed 
 position. 
 
 "Some of your sermons," I had said, "are as good 
 as anybody s ; and you ought to have a big parish and 
 big pay." 
 
 But he declared that small obscure parishes are the 
 good places, since they are so peculiarly favorable for 
 study. 
 
 I had asserted that a man would run down, if he 
 were not drawn upon by the demands of position: 
 
 "Young men at school in a class stimulate each 
 other. But when as pastors they enter rural parishes, 
 and find that they have more culture and power than 
 the men they daily meet, they are apt to grow slack 
 and conform to the town standard, and do not try hard 
 to rise far above it day by day." 
 
 "If I would," answered Cephas, "I could tell you 
 
124 WHERE TO KEEP IT. 
 
 just how to hinder it. I suppose the company of God 
 ought to be sufficient stimulus." 
 
 " Life is nothing," I said, little heeding his last re 
 mark, "unless one is always ascending. I cannot be 
 content without what one has called, an extraordinary 
 lifting of the feet in the rough ways of honor over the 
 impediments of fortune. Is it not honorable to desire 
 preferment in one s work ? My ambition, which seems 
 to me proper and praiseworthy, will never let me be 
 quiet. The trophies of Miltiades will not allow me to 
 slumber. I must push on through all obstacles." 
 
 "Well, sir," said Cephas, "to speak frankly, if you 
 want to make the most of yourself, I advise you to quit 
 buttonholing all your friends to get them to introduce 
 you to some larger sphere; and go to work hard just 
 where you are, to enlarge the sphere you are in: by 
 pushing round some, you can do it. Just spend half 
 the zeal you give to getting out of your parish into a 
 bigger one, in widening and deepening your parochial 
 work, and enlarging your mind, and doing a bigger 
 business in your study, and you will rise fast enough in 
 real power. What we want is not position, but power." 
 
 It was at this stage of the discussion, that, as I 
 have related, we were interrupted by the incoming of 
 the athletic Smith. When we had passed the civilities 
 of the morning with this pastor from Enon, and had 
 made him acquainted with the debate between us, he 
 rose to his feet, and, first raising his hurdle of rice 
 over his head, and upholding it by his strong arms, 
 said : 
 
WHERE TO KEEP IT. 125 
 
 "There is nothing to hinder setting up one of the 
 greatest factories in the world in any bushy and 
 brambly town, if there is only capital enough to build it, 
 and power enough to run it; so, one of the greatest 
 thinking mills on the globe can be set up almost any 
 where, bringing an unheard of village into the very 
 forefront of the intellectual forces of this planet, if 
 the capital and the power are equal to it." 
 
 "It is not impossible," he added, placing his rice 
 on the ground and standing upon it, " for some very 
 humble man, in an out of the way town, to rise up and 
 become the first of a line of kings; founding a new 
 empire in the literary and religious world. An active 
 thinker may study for the world, as well as for his 
 parish. There are men who have brought to the race 
 blessings new, fresh from heaven. Of one you can say 
 that he brought into the world a new element of civili 
 zation, or unfolded for the first time some important 
 truth. It is possible to do this kind of business in a 
 very small town, and make memorable a community 
 that has been without note. 
 
 " I once saw a white headed eagle rise from a dead 
 tree in a most desolate country, and ascend out of sight 
 by circular sweeps without apparently moving wing or 
 tail. So we may go into the wildest and roughest of 
 our New England towns, and there lead lives that shall 
 be always ascending ; and we may do it with no undig 
 nified fluttering or passionate fanning of the air, but 
 with calmness and dignity and such ease that it shall 
 seem to be our natural motion. 
 
126 WHERE TO KEEP IT. 
 
 "Said that noble woman Fidelia Fiske, It is how 
 we live more than where we live. How can a 
 man be concealed? How can a man be concealed? 
 cried Confucius. A small parish cannot hide a man. 
 Wherever ships sail or chariots run; wherever the 
 heavens overshadow and the earth sustains; wherever 
 the sun and moon shine, or frosts and dews fall, among 
 all who have blood and breath, there is not one who 
 does not honor and love him: so says the Chinese 
 classic on the honor of the true sage." 
 
 At this point our eccentric friend turned to Cephas, 
 and asked him to bring the rice over to his boarding 
 house. And then he threw himself down upon his 
 right hand and over upon his left, and then upon his 
 left foot and then upon his right, turning over and over, 
 wheeling himself in this manner out of the park. We 
 tried to move the rice but soon found it too much 
 work. 
 
 "There is only one thing about Smith that I don t 
 like," said Cephas. "He was something of a traveler 
 in his boyhood ; and when he gets upon his adventures 
 in foreign parts, you can t always tell what to believe. 
 When he first told me about the Japanese athletes turn 
 ing somersets holding in their hands hurdles of rice 
 weighing two hundred pounds, I doubted it: and he 
 sent to Japan for this specimen, on purpose to show me 
 that it can be done. Aside from this, I have no objec 
 tions to Smith." 
 
 As we turned homeward, Cephas told me about the 
 hard studying the Enon parsonage had witnessed. 
 
WHERE TO KEEP IT. 127 
 
 And he did not fail to make a personal application of 
 the morning s talk to me. 
 
 "Your success, Edward, is in your own hand, in your 
 own study. It avails not for you to seek this and that 
 high place. Some one may object to your removal to 
 this or that station; but no one can object to your 
 being a man where you are. There is no objection to 
 your being a man." 
 
 So he spoke to me like my own better nature, and 
 tried to awaken in me the purpose to rise above myself : 
 for to speak frankly I had been a seeker for some 
 " better place" ever since I had been in the ministry. 
 
 " I have been aching, for months, to have a talk with 
 you," added my mentor, and I may as well report his 
 words faithfully. "You have, many times, complained 
 to me that your s was only a common career. Now 
 what you want is to turn to, and make that common 
 career illustrious. By an uncommon spirit it can be 
 done. When Jonathan Edwards was turned out of 
 Northampton, he went on a mission to Stockbridge. 
 And he is remembered by the work he did in that little 
 arched alcove between the chimney and the corner, 
 with Indian children about his door; and not because 
 he was afterwards president of a college. Dr. Em- 
 mons, poor and in debt, did not hook himself to his 
 influential friends, or go about candidating ; but he put 
 a hook on his study door, and did not let anybody 
 disturb him, till he became a theological seminary, and 
 had to let in students. 
 
 " If you want to rise in the world, rise in your parish. 
 
128 WHERE TO KEEP IT. 
 
 Rise above yourself daily. Forget the things that are 
 behind ; and every morning awaken within a new man 
 far nobler than he who lay down last night. You are 
 to be a man in obscurity, or you will never be a man in 
 the light. Can you easily hide the sun? Do not try to 
 climb the heavens, and occupy a prominent place ; but 
 first of all make your soul luminous, and then the 
 planets will circle around you. Brougham was a law 
 yer without name one day; the next day, by the 
 decision of a legal point in his favor, he was the great 
 advocate, and one of the foremost men in England; 
 but he was as much of a man before that bright day as 
 after, only the world did not know it." 
 
 We were just entering his study door, when Ce 
 phas said, "These walls are my witness, that, whether 
 or not I ever found a college, I am bound, at the least, 
 to educate myself. And I am not without hope that 
 as the days go by, I may become a worthy Professor of 
 Religion in my parish." 
 
 It will be suitable to add, for the benefit of any 
 reader who is disposed to be. critical, that after we were 
 fairly seated in Cephas study, my companion gave me 
 Dante to read, and that I opened to the account the 
 poet gives of the man whom he met carrying his head 
 in his hand, holding it by the hair as one would a 
 lantern. 
 
 " But I remained to look upon the crowd ; 
 And saw a thing which I should be afraid, 
 Without some further proof, even to recount, 
 
WHERE TO KEEP IT. 129 
 
 If it were not that conscience re-assures me. 
 
 ****** 
 
 I truly saw, and still I seem to see it, 
 A trunk without a head walk in like manner 
 As walked the others of the mournful herd. 
 And by the hair it held the head dissevered, 
 Hung from the hand in fashion of a lantern, 
 And that upon us gazed and said : O me ! " 
 
 "<O me! " said I, closing the book, "this story 
 appears to me somewhat improbable. It is very much 
 easier to believe what my own eyes have seen to-day 
 than to vouch for the veracity of this Italian wanderer 
 in Malebolge." 
 
 And I assure the reader that I should not have men 
 tioned this account of the athletic feats of Smith had 
 not my conscience commanded me to do it. 
 
STONE COVE. 
 
 X. 
 
 STONE COVE. 
 
 next settlement into which Cephas trundled 
 his Red Trunk was Stone Cove, near my own 
 home. I give below his own account of his ex 
 periences there upon the first morning after his arrival. 
 " On waking at five o clock, I heard what I supposed 
 was the welcome sound of my landlady s coffee-mill ; 
 but it run on so long that I thought she must have an 
 unusually big grist of coffee. I discovered, at last, that 
 the noise I heard was only the Atlantic Ocean, across 
 the street ten rods off, carrying coffee somewhere on its 
 wide waves, and gently growling about it. The sea 
 sounds like a wild wind in the forests, or like a tornado 
 harping over granite ridges ; but very frequently it 
 tones down into the coffee-mill tone. Being fairly 
 waked up by the running of (Cape) Anne s * coffee- 
 
 * Prince Charles, son of Anne of Denmark, knew how to spell 
 his mother s name ; and when he gave her name to the Cape, the 
 fishermen ought to have learned to spell ; but they did not, and 
 most of them left off the e. It should be written as the Queen 
 wrote it, and as it appears in Smith s Narrative, "which is the first 
 document naming it. It is well known by those familiar with our 
 
STONE COVE. 131 
 
 mill, I set out for Dove Hill before breakfast. The 
 name and tradition of this land bird is still kept up on 
 the Cape, in spite of the noisy protests of the sea fowl 
 always sailing over it. High up the slope, I came 
 suddenly upon half an acre of fish heads cod-fish 
 heads just above ground. Green as I was about this 
 staple commodity, I made no doubt the hill was full, a 
 living fountain of fresh fish ready to leap out on 
 the green sward, to be salted and dried for the Western 
 market. The view inland from this hill-top extends six 
 miles or more over rough rocks and wild woodland to 
 Mount Anne. 
 
 Three sides of the horizon show the sea. On the 
 southeast is a port with vast stone breakwaters; and 
 rising at the tip of the Cape two tall light-houses, 
 standing alone on a long island. These are Queen 
 Anne s Needles. South, across the roughest pastures 
 and stone quarries, appears Massachusetts Bay. On 
 the north, Ipswich Bay and twenty miles or more of 
 
 old records that it was a mere matter of luck as to spelling. 
 Cape Codd appears upon a map of 1634, as reproduced in Palfrey s 
 History of New England. Cape Codd and Cape Ann match. 
 The sentence in which Cape "Ann" is first mentioned in the 
 Mass. Bay Records, contains five mistakes in spelling. Vide vol. I 
 p 253. Page 256 gives Anne. The prevailing mode dropped the 
 e. Cape Ann is named for some unknown Betsey Ann or Sally 
 Ann ; but Cape Anne bears the name of an English Queen. 
 There was no royal woman who wrote her name Ann. Ann 
 Hutchinson dropped the e, and the colony dropped her. I shall 
 persist in adding the e to our Cape, in accordance with its first 
 naming. There is a decided smell of fish about Cape Ann. 
 
I3 2 STONE COVE. 
 
 glistening sand, dreary beaches short and long, and 
 the white line of Plum Island and Salisbury. Sixty 
 miles to the north rises blue Agamenticus in old York. 
 All along this northern coast, the highlands back are 
 crowned with villages and church spires. And on this 
 side Ipswich Bay, I see the spire of a church, seem 
 ingly floating at sea, the hull being hidden by the inter 
 vening forest. Seaward are ships, some sailing towards 
 the Dipper. All the water this morning is covered 
 with white caps, Queen Anne s sheep roaming over the 
 salt pastures. 
 
 " Here is this big, round hill, with green fields, yel 
 low corn, blushing fruit, lowing cattle, and a wide 
 outlook ; a fine upland farm, a richly cultivated country, 
 thrust up into the air, like one of the broad-backed 
 hills of Vermont, jutting far out into the sea, a hill 
 fit for the plow, amid the desolation of Cape Anne, 
 where 
 
 All is rock at random thrown, 
 
 Black rock, bare crags, and banks of stone. 
 
 "One of the most noticeable features of this hill is 
 the forest of derricks, which in one quarter rises in 
 place of the forest primeval. Half a mile square of 
 granite ledge has been honey-combed by the quarry 
 men. Having descended the hill, we pass stout little 
 stone wagons with heavy loads, slowly moving from the 
 ledges towards immense piles of stone, which are 
 pushed out into the sea to shelter the stone schooners. 
 Here are three heavy laden vessels walLd in close to 
 
STONE COVE. T33 
 
 the post office ; and their decks of stone look little 
 likely to float at sea. Not far away is a stone house, 
 strong and secure as a jail. And here are the barns 
 where the stone cattle are kept. These cattle that 
 work on the ledges are really of stone, making beef 
 with granite gristle suited to these men of iron 
 jaw. The barns have to be made, as I suppose, unusu 
 ally strong for these muscular beasts. The underpin 
 ning is often run half way to the eaves, or again to the 
 ridge pole. The stable windows reveal thick stone 
 walls, as if they were the port-holes of fortresses. 
 There are, reaching half across the doors outside, iron 
 hinges, twisted like snakes among rocks. The date of 
 the raising of the barn is sometimes deeply cut over 
 the front door. Probably these buildings will stand as 
 long as the Egyptian temples ; and in these Cape Anne 
 temples reside the oxen, venerable and tough as Apis. 
 Enormous eggs of the sea serpent, taken from some 
 "cobble-stone beach," have been thrown into the sides 
 of one of these barns, as the British threw a cannon 
 ball into the walls of old Brattle Street Church, and left 
 it sticking half way out. This man, whose boys toss 
 about these little granite balls like pebbles, has a flat 
 stone six feet square projecting over one corner of his 
 pig pen for the fragment of a roof. I saw pig pens, 
 and little gardens two rods square, so heavily walled 
 with stone that they seemed like parts of fortifications. 
 One stone house has a garden wall of quarried stone 
 ten feet high and forty feet long. The apple-trees in 
 some of these gardens are anchored to keep them from 
 
134 STONE COVE. 
 
 blowing off, roots and all, in a storm. I saw one tree 
 with nine anchors in her, eighteen-inch fluke. Over 
 one garden gate rose the jaw-bone of a whale, standing 
 like a harrow to arch the path; and the rib of the 
 same whale serves for a beam in a cow shed. 
 
 "One of these Cape Anne giants had, on some wet 
 day, chopped out a chair and a settee of granite, and I 
 saw them in his front yard. Not far away, I found a 
 big ring cut an inch deep into a wide flat rock, as if 
 some giant s wife going by, had there set down her 
 wash tub to rest. When I returned to my lodging, my 
 landlord was splitting wood on a huge stone chopping 
 block in his back yard, the axe going through to the 
 stone every time. He remarked that he liked it, the 
 block was so solid. The axe bore a dull testimony to 
 some months of hammering stone. These stone men 
 of Stone Cove are worthy representatives of the stone 
 age of the world, and there are giants in these days. 
 Are not the Anakims and Zamzummins still among us ? 
 
 " All this I discovered before breakfast. My appe 
 tite was by this time very decided in its demands. 
 Jaw and tooth were ready to take hold of all ordinary 
 provender, like sledge and drill on granite. I was 
 ready for a steak of stone. But my landlady placed 
 upon the table that luscious chocolate-colored mess 
 which plus pods tempted Esau, though the Yan 
 kee woman had the beans baked, not stewed. I had a 
 hard battle to get my share from the old salt who pre 
 sided at the head of the table. He said, however, that 
 he never liked beans much, but most of his neighbors 
 
STONE COVE. 135 
 
 were very fond of them. When he was a cabin boy, 
 sailing the Indian seas under a British flag, a signal of 
 distress was seen one morning, and they bore down to 
 relieve the stranger. . She proved to be from Stone 
 Cove. And her captain was, by reckoning, more than 
 ten thousand miles from home, with only half a bar 
 rel of beans, and he never could bring his ship to 
 port on that. My host remarked that the folk this 
 way make no use of the esculent compared with the 
 people up the Cape, who on great occasions, such as 
 ordinations, are obliged to use Wenham Lake for put 
 ting their beans to soak before cooking." 
 
 The parson does not relate his adventures upon the 
 first Sunday in his new parish ; and I may as well tell 
 it for him. He needed out door exercise to fit him 
 for preaching. He also loved to study his sermons 
 in some forest, and pull illustrations fresh from the 
 branches they grew on. It was nine o clock upon this 
 Sunday when he took to the woods. The path was one 
 of the most charming I ever trod. Instead of turning 
 when the path grew beautifully less and wound up a 
 tree, he struck into a shrub-covered valley, then entered 
 upon rising ground and soon upon new hills. At ten 
 o clock he was thoroughly out of reckoning and had 
 to take his tall hat up a tree to find out where he was. 
 
 Lost, and in the top of an oak, two miles or more 
 from his meeting-house half an hour before service 
 time ! Little did his people know of the Wild Man 
 side of their minister. He was in the pulpit promptly, 
 
136 STONE COVE. 
 
 and the good deacons said it was a day of quickening, 
 as if the Spirit of the Lord wrought through their new 
 minister. His aspiring and perspiring in that tall tree 
 did him good. 
 
 Cephas felt it to be one of the first duties he owed to 
 himself, as soon as he was fixed in Stone Cove to unfix 
 himself: to begin at the head of Plum Island, and 
 coast round to Nahant, with walking stick for mast and 
 sole leather for ship-timber. He always walked up the 
 wind ; so as to get the fresh life of the sea, when 
 breaking waves weighted the atmosphere with their 
 subtile tonic. 
 
 " Some days," said Cephas, " I envy the Wandering 
 Jew; and wish I could take a few hundred years to 
 follow the coast line of all the world. I d do it for my 
 first regular walk ; and take a thousand years for it." 
 
 In the summer season, Cephas slept many, nights in 
 what he called the " Massachusetts General Hospital." 
 That is, in the health-giving " Coast Range " of Massa 
 chusetts. Beginning with isolated peaks in the north 
 ern part of Essex county, there are regular Rocky 
 Mountains in miniature, extending to the neighborhood 
 of Boston, and rising for once on the south in the Blue 
 Hills. This range is so well wooded on its flanks that 
 Cephas once walked from Newbury Oldtown to Mel- 
 rose in the woods, except when crossing roadways. 
 
 The Stone Cove minister made himself at home, all 
 over Cape Anne ; he knew every hill, ledge and boul 
 der, every forest road, path, pathless wild, or rugged 
 pasture, between Pigeon Hill in Rockport and Witch 
 
STONE COVE. 137 
 
 Hill in Salem. Every inch of the shore was his ; and 
 every creek, rill, and swampland knew his step. 
 
 " I need," said this Stone Cove minister, " to culti 
 vate the wild beast within me, at least a day or two 
 every week." 
 
 I once noticed a section of the backbone of a whale 
 lying under Cephas study table for a cricket. My eye 
 fixed upon certain characters, which were never placed 
 there by the original whale: III : HXPI : LX : KW. 
 
 "What is that whale talking about?" I asked. 
 
 " He is a life insurance agent ; represents the Atlan 
 tic; wants to know how long I expect to live," replied 
 Cephas. 
 
 " And what do you tell him ? " 
 
 " I propose to live till I am sixty years old. I can 
 do it, if I have backbone enough. I have, therefore, 
 spliced my purpose with this vertebra of a whale." 
 
 The great projects for which he lived, acted like 
 clock weights, compelling Cephas to regular system in 
 the business of keeping well. His physical condition 
 demanded constant care in using the natural means of 
 health, if he would carry out his life plans. 
 
 " In order to succeed in this," was the motto I saw 
 pasted in the top of the Red Trunk, " live one day at a 
 time: keep perfectly well to-day; study what you can 
 to-day; do to-day s duties, and do no more." And 
 another motto was borne on the inside Cephas hat : 
 The grand secret of keeping well is found in actually 
 keeping well every day : doing work enough and play 
 enough each day." It was on this account, that he 
 kept the wild beast within him in good condition. 
 
I3 8 THE SHAGBARK. 
 
 XL 
 THE SHAGBARK. 
 
 CEPHAS wanderings were, however, never aimless, 
 the mere wandering of a wild creature in the out 
 skirts of towns. Was it not said that Hercules 
 after his greatest labors, retired into deserts that he 
 might reflect upon his divine origin and renew his 
 vigor ? 
 
 I have a very unwieldy and awkward looking Shag- 
 bark cane now standing in the corner of my study. It 
 belonged to Cephas. I could never use it much on 
 account of its weight. It is marked with strange de 
 vices j but I never knew their meaning. It was never 
 kept among the armful of old sticks of all shapes and 
 lengths and sizes which under the name of canes 
 usually adorned one corner of Cephas study. He did 
 not take it when I walked with him ; but had it some 
 days while he was at Stone Cove, when I unexpectedly 
 found him in my forest range at Manchester, or when 
 he was on " a regular tramp" as he called it. When I 
 met him on such days he was very apt to slip my com 
 pany. Having once, however, caught a glimpse of the 
 cabalistic characters on the Shagbark, I concluded 
 
THE SHAG BARK. 139 
 
 there was something unique about it ; and I came at 
 last to associate that in my mind with certain days 
 when his conduct or appearance was a little more 
 unaccountable than usual. There was a secret here, 
 concerning which I was not at liberty to ask. 
 
 In some of these Shagbark days, as I called them, I 
 noticed in him not only an unusual but an astonishing 
 mental vigor and buoyancy of spirit ; and I knew not 
 but a good daemon, like that which often spoke to 
 Socrates, had possession of my friend. When I said 
 anything which would have given him an opportunity 
 to speak of this mystery, he was reserved ; and I saw 
 there was a something between him and me, as indeed 
 there had been when we were children together. What 
 I know about this I found out in little snatches of 
 conversation, but mainly by my acquaintance with 
 Cephas papers since his death. 
 
 How he came to cut the Shagbark is related in one 
 of the rough notes I have found in his pigeon-holes. 
 It appears to have been written in Nuntundale early in 
 his ministry. 
 
 " One afternoon," says the manuscript, " I went down 
 to a promontory jutting into the sea ; and there at 
 about nightfall climbed a shagbark upon the very peak 
 of the hill. This wild pasture rises in a gentle green 
 slope from the harbor on the one side, and in high cliffs 
 steep from the sea on the other. A valley of sand 
 ploughs into one portion of it ; and acre upon acre of 
 out-cropping ledge mars the greater part of its surface. 
 A few apple-trees, which have blossomed for several 
 
140 THE SHAGBARK. 
 
 generations still bear fruit. Cedar, oak, bayberry, bar 
 berry and huckleberry find root in this soil. From my 
 high perch I could overlook a wide district of rocky 
 hill and forest, river fresh and river salt, islands and 
 beaches, villages and villas, spires and masts and light 
 house towers rising from city and sea. The western 
 woods were glowing with the last rays of daylight, and 
 darkness was settling upon the town. Occasional white 
 waves were rising under the stiffening breeze upon the 
 near sea, which was still light-bearing like a mirror 
 with mottled surface j and night was fast shutting down 
 upon the more distant deep. 
 
 " But I little heeded these surroundings, only as they 
 aided me in the process of coming to myself again. I 
 had not, for a long time, been quite myself. Spiritual 
 purposes, feelings and habits were awry; the intellect 
 was becoming more and more dormant and unreliable ; 
 and my physical condition was bad. Sitting almost 
 motionless for an hour or two, save when disturbed by 
 the violence of spiritual agony or wrestling, I held in 
 my hand the Words of Jesus, and plead with Him to 
 fulfil His promises for my own upbuilding in an effi 
 cient life. And there I settled it just what the matter 
 was and what was the remedy, the faithful adherence 
 to a certain habit long useful to me as a fountain of 
 spiritual force and comfort, but not infrequently neg 
 lected. And I cut from that tree a Shagbark cane to 
 carry with me henceforth in my new pilgrimage." 
 
 This " certain habit " had some hold on him when he 
 was a child. As I walked beside him the day we re- 
 
THE SHAGBARK. 141 
 
 turned from our nutting expedition, when I went to 
 sleep on his bag of walnuts, I did not understand the 
 secret place in which he nourished the phantoms whose 
 faces he showed me. As we cracked our jokes, or ran, 
 wild as two colts in the bracing air and bright sun, 
 or climbed the tallest trees to gather the few fair 
 leaves yet flying on high, I did not know what I now 
 know, that in all those days of boyhood, he was in 
 winter evenings often in the secret places of evergreen 
 woods, or sheltered nooks of the stone quarries, con 
 versing with a Friend more dear to him than I was : 
 and that he often spent half the night in his chamber, 
 or a whole summer s day in the groves or by the side of 
 a brook or on the height of a hill, studying the divine 
 Word and gaining moral power by communion with the 
 Source of all Light and Love. 
 
 And this " certain habit " was developed more or 
 less in his school days. But it was not till a twelve 
 month before entering on his professional work that this 
 course of life was strongly fixed upon him. Then the 
 Lord began to open his eyes ; and to him who sat in 
 darkness appeared the heavenly light. The Lord 
 smote his eyes ; and it was to him the way of power. 
 His spiritual vision was made clear by it. Henceforth 
 he had less need of the sun by day or the moon by 
 night : the Lord became to him the Everlasting Light. 
 Fearing blindness, he went out of library doors ; bid 
 ding farewell to the range of reading he had planned. 
 Henceforth he was to commune with God, not man, and 
 to seek inspiration from heaven ; and he needed no 
 
142 THE SHAG BARK. 
 
 one s pity. He was led in a way he knew not. All 
 one autumn and winter he was compelled to walk 
 during the long evenings ; and those miles of plank 
 sidewalk were to him like heaven s golden pavement. 
 He had to go without human company, for no friend 
 would trudge with him in the cold and darkness and 
 storm, hour after hour and night after night: he there 
 fore sought celestial Companionship. He came at last 
 to believe the divine message, take God at his word, 
 and converse with the Infinite Spirit whose presence 
 had been often unrecognized. 
 
 As the months rolled on, in experimenting on the 
 care of his eyes, he found he could get little use of 
 them in the morning hours; he therefore shifted his 
 time for walking, and stuck to his new Companion. It 
 became more and more apparent that he could not use 
 his eyes at all, except by an uncompromising system of 
 exercise and walking in the morning. And his spiritual 
 communion in these hours was so precious to him that 
 the rigid habit was at last his ; and it became like iron, 
 holding him in firm grasp. I find many endorsements 
 among his papers, in which the loss of eyesight in 
 school days was set down as worth more to him than 
 all th e rest of his discipline. An extra course of par 
 tial blindness, he believed the best thing that could 
 overtake any candidate for the ministry; but he never 
 made me believe this. 
 
 " I think," says one bit of paper I have found in the 
 Old Red Trunk, "that about all the good I have gained 
 in the world has come by my solitary walks, which have 
 
THE SHAG BARK. 143 
 
 been made necessary by my eyes. I must walk, or I 
 cannot read. I must read, therefore I walk ; and as I 
 must go alone, I seek to be not alone, and the Father 
 is with me." 
 
 To live three or four hours out of doors during each 
 twenty-four, was found by experiment to be needful to 
 keep his body in condition to be used as a basis for 
 intellectual and social activity; and he came to count 
 this as an advantage. So in every way, "a certain 
 habit" gained a controlling power over him. And 
 when he cut that Shagbark stick, it was not the begin 
 ning of days to him, but a stout confirmation and new 
 settling of that which had long held sway over him. 
 
 This habit was greatly quickened by the experiences 
 of the Phantom House. And I believe that he kept 
 much in the company of the Heavenly Bridegroom 
 after that. 
 
 I find from my friend s papers, that he dreamed 
 often of the Frigate Bird ; and the wild life it leads is 
 in some respects an emblem of his own. My acquaint 
 ance with ornithology is so limited that I do not know 
 much about this strange dweller in the heights above. 
 I am ashamed to say that the only account of it I ever 
 read, is in one of the notes I find among Cephas 
 papers. I have heard him say that on sea voyages he 
 had more than once seen this bird. But some old ship 
 masters I have conversed with never saw it; or had 
 seen it so far off as not to recognize this description. 
 
 " Tachypetis Aquila. The man-of-war bird, or frigate 
 
144 THE SHAGBARK. 
 
 bird, lives in the sky over the seas, and stoops to the 
 water or the shore only for food or at the breeding 
 season, never for rest. Its body is hardly so large as 
 that of a domestic cock ; but its glossy wings are fifteen 
 feet span, and the tail is in proportion. Divested of 
 the accessories to flight, the body is so light that it is 
 easily suspended in the air. The feet are very short ; 
 and it is so impeded in land movement by length of 
 tail and wing, that it is possible sometimes to kill one 
 with clubs at the breeding time, The bird is a robber, 
 a man-of-war, a pirate, living upon what it steals by 
 attacks on fishing birds. This frigate of the air is 
 sometimes seen by sailors amid the tropics at noonday, 
 sailing in circles high over the masthead ; and again it 
 is seen in the night far north, amid the fires of the 
 aurora, as if moving upon still wings through swift 
 shooting flames. Week after week, and year after 
 year, it lives in the air. It sleeps on expanded wings, 
 perhaps five thousand feet above the sea ; floating like 
 a cloud from continent to continent. Its flight is five 
 or six times as swift as the railway trains, eighty 
 leagues an hour. This bird finds perpetual light of sun 
 or moon or stars : for when winds begin to rock this 
 man-of-war, and the storm is wild, there is always a 
 calm space far above, where the bird may sleep, or ply 
 its wings in security." 
 
 So, by the shores of the sea Cephas was longing for 
 the most elevated kind of life possible to him; as if 
 always dwelling on high. To him the upper air had 
 unspeakable charms. It was his early aim to obtain 
 
THE SHAGBARK. 145 
 
 the highest wisdom in laying out his life-work, and 
 the greatest degree of power possible for completing 
 that work. If he had high aims in life, he chose also 
 the best means of success. He supposed that the 
 highest achievements possible to man could be wrought 
 only by help of the Holy One. To test the problem of 
 obtaining power in prayer was, therefore, his purpose 
 quite early in life. 
 
 He took the words of the Old Record, believing that 
 the experiences of Moses, and Samuel, and Elijah, and 
 Daniel were put into it for instruction. He tried hard 
 to learn the lesson, and thought to do it by the Bible 
 method, taking time enough. To give this matter 
 thorough trial was the best use he could think of, for 
 the choicest hours of weeks together. He would know 
 what the Bible men knew, or know that there was 
 nothing in it. If in ancient days the prophets of God 
 spent much time in wandering alone with Him, crying 
 to Him for the help they needed, for quickening revela 
 tions and words and powers from Him, he was inclined 
 to experiment in the same line ; and this in no expecta 
 tion of becoming a revealer of bibles to men, but with 
 the clear and fixed hope that the Holy One would 
 awaken all his nature and develop every faculty. 
 
 And if, besides intellectual and spiritual growth, he 
 could become mighty to walk and to run, to be strong 
 physically, he chose this walking with God in solitary 
 places as the best use to which he could put many 
 hours every week. This, then, was the real meaning of 
 the Shagbark, so far as I now know it. It was his 
 
146 THE SHAG BARK. 
 
 purpose, I suppose, so long as the tough wood might 
 wear, to bear it forth on daily journeyings, as he sought 
 with some literalness to walk with the Lord. 
 
 "He who has learned to prevail in prayer," Cephas 
 wrote, " stands upon the grandest heights of the world. 
 The closet is the place of honor: the closet is the place 
 of power. How poor and mean life seems if it be be 
 reft of those hours in which the Spirit strives within, 
 with inexpressible anguish and groanings that cannot 
 be uttered." 
 
 And I have found, pinned to the bit of paper upon 
 which this note was written, another which he had com 
 piled from the Vishnu Purana. This clearly indicates 
 that in his mind the Christian precept and the Pagan 
 example are not far apart : 
 
 " I have read that the ascetic prince Dhruva, as a boy 
 of five years old, was absorbed in the contemplation of 
 Vishnu; and the divinity so filled his soul that the 
 earth could no longer bear his weight. As he stood 
 upon his left foot, says the story, one hemisphere 
 bent beneath him ; and, when he stood upon his right, 
 the other half of the earth sank down. Then the 
 mother of the prince tried to divert him from his 
 prayers; and she besought him with tears, but he 
 heeded them not. Fierce tempters by day, with fiery 
 countenances and terrible arms, availed not. Fiends 
 by night, whirling threatening weapons, could not make 
 him cease from his devotions. Goblins and monsters 
 with roar and yell were unheard. The child was en 
 grossed with only one idea, and saw only Vishnu s 
 presence in his soul. 
 
THE SHAGBARK. 14? 
 
 " So he incessantly advanced towards superhuman 
 power by his devotions. And as the jealous gods 
 besought Vishnu to alky the fervor of his meditations, 
 the supreme power answered, The lad desireth neither 
 the rank of Indra, nor the solar orb, nor the sover 
 eignty of wealth or of the ocean. All that he solicits I 
 will grant. Then when Hari said to the boy, Demand 
 what boon thou desirest, the child answered, If the 
 Lord is contented with my devotions, let this be my 
 reward, that I may know how to praise him as I 
 wish. * * My heart is overflowing with devotion to 
 thee. O Lord, grant me the faculty worthily to lay 
 mine adorations at thy feet. 
 
 "What though the sequel of this wonderful story is 
 full of the strangely grotesque imaginations of the 
 Hindu mythology? This part is a lesson for me. If 
 by spending my hours in prayer and praise I could 
 gain the highest reward, should I not choose to have 
 bestowed upon me new power in self-devotement to the 
 Lord of all?" 
 
148 COLD SPRING MEADOW. 
 
 XII. 
 
 COLD SPRING MEADOW. 
 
 foot paths about Manchester open the most 
 delightful walks. They measure far more miles 
 * than the public roads. Residing in the parson 
 age, whenever I was in a hurry to get into the wild, 
 I climbed over my back fence, and in a moment 
 entered the lane back of the old Murray house; then 
 took the foot path which leads past the old mill, where 
 I crossed the stile into the Cold Spring Meadow. 
 
 I was sitting on this stile, one morning, reading 
 about an ancient Arabian poet before the time of Mo 
 hammed. Kutayir was asked, " how he managed when 
 poetry became difficult to him." He answered, "I 
 walk through the deserted habitations, and through the 
 blooming greenswards; then the most perfect songs 
 become easy, mid the beautiful ones flow naturally." 
 So too, the prophet of Allah pointed to the poets of his 
 own day, saying, " Seest thou not how they rove, as 
 bereft of their senses, through every valley ? " Then I 
 called to mind the words of St. Bernard, when he 
 taught that the fear of the Lord is the beginning of 
 wisdom, and that the inner life is to be developed by 
 
COLD SPRING MEADOW. 149 
 
 daily meditations. "Thou wilt," said he, "find more 
 in forests than in books. Woods and stones will teach 
 thee what thou canst not learn from the masters." 
 
 Stepping down from the stile I picked up a white 
 beach pebble, upon which was written in a familiar 
 hand : 
 
 . . . . " tongues in trees, books in the running brooks, 
 sermons in stones." 
 
 I concluded, from this token, that my friend Cephas 
 must have left his pastoral care at Stone Cove to study 
 in my neighborhood. But I knew him well enough, to 
 guess that he would foot it over half the woods and 
 wild pastures in town, before pulling my door bell. 
 
 I was, therefore, little surprised to find him a few 
 rods farther on, lying down by the side of the Cold 
 Spring j which was bubbling up from the sands under a 
 turfy bank, clear and sparkling as in the days when the 
 first settlers of the town named this pre-eminently the 
 "Cold" Spring. He was, as usual, writing on sundry 
 bits of paper, and reading over what he had written. I 
 heard these words: 
 
 " Could the interior life of the most ordinary mind be 
 photographed, or fully and truly written out, it would 
 be more wonderful than any book of foreign travel, or 
 any history of kingdoms and battles, or any biography 
 yet written. To observe one s own mental operations, 
 and to note the common experiences of the soul, this 
 is a path too little frequented, a foot track to self 
 knowledge." 
 
ISO COLD SPRING ME ADO IV. 
 
 "Cephas, Cephas, ho!" I cried. 
 
 He sprang to his feet, as though he heard the whiz 
 zing of an Indian arrow, and faced about. 
 
 "Just the man I want. I was trending your way 
 this morning. Went to the stile and turned back for 
 an hour." 
 
 It required, however, no hard work to persuade him 
 to go into the woods again for a long walk, as I had a 
 horrible fit of indigestion, which I was compelled to be 
 rid of before Sunday. 
 
 " Health ! " answered Cephas. " I don t walk for my 
 health ! I have run in the woods till I love it. I be 
 gin to long to be a savage and go wild." 
 
 " Begin to be a savage ?" I asked. " I thought you 
 began years ago, and that nowadays you run rather to 
 become civilized by trying to study. I find fragments 
 of your sermons all over the Cape. Your sermons im 
 press the very stones. Put that in your sling next 
 Sunday," I added, handing over the beach stone with 
 the Shakesperian lines on it. 
 
 " I have been thinking," said my companion as we 
 crossed a little stream in the path, " about this business 
 of studying so like fury every day. My ideas do not 
 amount to much* when I am trying hard to think as I 
 call it. All my best thoughts come unasked when 
 I am roaming abroad in a mood to receive ideas 
 impressed on my mind without seeking for them. Per 
 haps I can t make you understand just what I mean; 
 but I feel very decidedly that the healthiest kind of 
 thinking is that which a man of physical vigor, good 
 
COLD SPRING MEADOW. 151 
 
 sense and cultivated mind gets in his hours of apparent 
 idling. The wild birds do not bring forth young every 
 day; they fly through the forests, over gardens and 
 grain fields, over the margins of the sea, or over moun 
 tain ranges, and gather vigorous life a great part of the 
 year. But there are many of us who do not imitate 
 the wild birds ; we are like domestic fowl laying com 
 mon sort of eggs diligently every day, which may at 
 any time with short notice be brooded over and hatched 
 by wide-mouthed quacks, or even by machinery." 
 
 Approaching now the little cluster of pines whose 
 needles so thickly strew the ground on the left of the 
 path before crossing the wall into the orchard, I turned 
 my eyes toward the inviting covert and saw upon the 
 ground a pocket Bible, and sundry sheets of paper. 
 The book was a new one. 
 
 " If that was your Bible," said I to my comrade, " I 
 should say that this paper must be another division of 
 your sermon." 
 
 Picking up the book, I found, on the fly, these 
 words, " My soul breaketh for the longing that it hath 
 unto thy judgments at all times." Taking a sheet of 
 the paper, I found it scratched all over with a singular 
 compound of Maxdecroix and original short hand char 
 acters and long English. 
 
 Slowly I made my way through the opening senten 
 ces : " I live in a perpetual morning, as if I was always 
 circling the earth with the day dawn. I silence the din 
 of the world that I may be for some hours alone with 
 God. This gives me vigor for the remainder of the 
 
152 COLD SPRING MEADOW. 
 
 day, as if the elasticity, freshness and strength of the 
 day dawn were maintained till after sunset. The most 
 intense living comes through kindling the soul in soli 
 tudes, setting it all on fire every morning. We let the 
 flames go down at night, cover the embers, and sleep ; 
 but morning by morning we must renew the heat from 
 heaven. I take to myself the motto of Pythagoras, 
 In the morning solitude. " 
 
 Stowing Book and papers into one of his big book- 
 pockets, Cephas proposed that we step over the wall, 
 and club certain sour apple trees. Our mouths were 
 soon turned into cider mills. We craunched the juicy 
 fruit in crossing Pople Plain ; and then took a pleasant 
 path winding about a hill side, which was adorned 
 with brilliant shrubs and scattered trees in high color, 
 mingled here and there with dark evergreens. Just 
 before coming on Wild Cat brook, the path turned to 
 the right, threading a thicket of young pines ; and then 
 we brushed along the yellow leaves of beeches, which 
 were trying hard to hide the narrow footway. Bearing 
 to the left, we made the crossing of the brook in a 
 valley long desolated by the axe, now growing to be a 
 vale of beauty by a surprising variety of young timber ; 
 glowing that day with bright tints, as if an army with a 
 thousand banners were flying their colors in the sun. 
 
 " Thank God that so much of the earth is left wild 
 for man to go pasturing in," said my comrade as we 
 looked up the valley. 
 
 After gazing for a moment at the abrupt hill on the 
 left, and the wooded crest on the right, we moved along 
 
COLD SPRING MEADOW. 153 
 
 an old wood road under the great beech; whose inter 
 locked arms invite the repose of every passer by, as 
 if the very trees of Manchester were vying with the 
 townsmen in the cabinet business. In a moment more 
 we came upon the saw mill, which is to this part of the 
 Essex Woods the grand starting point for all manner of 
 pleasant adventures. There is no work going on for so 
 large a part of the year that every loiterer may occupy 
 it as his own for the hour, as much as if its wheel would 
 never move again. 
 
 Crossing the dam, we were in a little while among 
 giant pines; whose extraordinary height still shows 
 something of the dignity of the forest primeval. The 
 solitude of these cloisters of the wilderness is rendered 
 the more pleasing by the sweep of the vale ; now nar 
 row and shut in by rugged hills, then wide spread 
 with ample views and free rambling before one passes 
 over a crest into another room of this forest temple. 
 Without path we wandered at will, as if trying to lose 
 ourselves in a part of the wood unfamiliar to me. 
 Winding along the steep north side of a hill, where the 
 dark damp butts of the trees never saw the sun, and 
 where the white birch is blackened by continual moist 
 ure, we came to a height I had never climbed before. 
 But my companion knew every step. Such were his 
 habits on foot that after abiding for a time in any region, 
 the view from any height was like looking at his own 
 house ; every hill, grove, stream, sea beach or headland, 
 had certain associations in his mind, as if he had lived 
 all over the country, and these different locations 
 
154 COLD SPRING MEADOW. 
 
 were the chambers where he had slept, studied or 
 prayed. And he could at anytime, anywhere, call up 
 pictures of these wild rooms. The different sentences 
 of his sermons were associated in his mind with these 
 delightful studies all over the wildernesses of sea coast 
 or mountain district. 
 
 As we sat here looking at the distant sea, wild rocky 
 hills and wide range of forest about us, my companion 
 pulled a letter out of his pocket from a friend on the 
 border. The writer expressed his unbounded delight 
 in doing his thinking where there was no one within 
 fifteen hundred miles who would care what he thought. 
 He had a sense of independence, to him refreshing. 
 
 " I do not expect," added Cephas, " to be really satis 
 fied till I have an unpeopled planet, which I can alight 
 on at will, for my study. But then I should want the 
 fixing of it first. I could not stand flat prairies and 
 treeless plains. All I should care anything about 
 would be mountains, ravines, forests and the sea. My 
 potatoes and wheat and beef critters I should raise 
 on some other planet." 
 
 "Do you remember," I asked, "what that sturdy 
 New Hampshire pastor once told us on the beach? I 
 would mind my business, and let the sea mind his 
 business. " 
 
 " Yes," replied Cephas, " but it is a part of my busi 
 ness to watch the sea ; and I am neglecting my business 
 if I don t do it. The sea is to me a perfect tonic 
 physically, and a mental inspiration. My mind is like 
 a tide mill, depending on the flow of the ocean for 
 
COLD SPRING MEADOW. 155 
 
 doing its work. Inexhaustible energies come to me 
 from the sea, every time I look on blue waves or scent 
 salt." 
 
 Pursuing our pathless way again we did not leave 
 our rambling till we found the Fern-faced Ledge, and 
 stood under the sounding board of its cold pulpit, and 
 looked into its pokerish pockets and uncounted crevi 
 ces. Here frosts and rains pry off huge blocks of 
 stone, which are carpeted by the falling foliage of the 
 hemlock, and then with green brakes watered by secret 
 springs ; so that this shady nook is the very paradise of 
 mosses and ferns. 
 
 Walking homeward together arm in arm upon the 
 high road, Cephas and I still conversed about the 
 secret of the highest intellectual life possible to man. 
 
 " I have had many, many days," said I, " in which I 
 have been like a mule in a mill ; but it is my wish to 
 lead the life of an eagle eyeing the sun." 
 
 "Would it not be possible," asked Cephas, "for 
 every man to double his intellectual force by keeping 
 much in the company of Infinite wisdom ? " 
 
 The relation which Cephas lonely walks bore to his 
 indoor studies appeared when we were fairly housed 
 and had taken to our books. 
 
 " Did you ever think," asked my chum, " that prayer 
 is needful in reading as much as in writing? One 
 seizes a book and comes at the heart of it in an hour, 
 seizing the leading points, all seed-thoughts, and skip 
 ping pages of mere words, when he has just been 
 praying over it, and getting the mind ready to do its 
 work well, and to do it quickly." 
 
156 COLD SPRING MEADOW. 
 
 This accords not ill with what I know concerning 
 the proportion of my friend s life. He was no mere 
 wild-wood dreamer. As each day yielded hours for 
 devotion, so each day of health found him at his books. 
 
 "When you pray," wrote Cephas, "you wonder that 
 the Lord does not descend from the heavens with a 
 shout. But go back to your study. The sun will rise 
 tomorrow and pursue his journey as calmly as he will 
 in the millennium. Christ prayed in the night ; but he 
 had wisdom by day. Unhasting, unresting, plead with 
 God; and when you plead with man be sure you do 
 it intelligently." 
 
JACK S HILL. 157 
 
 XIII. 
 JACK S HILL. 
 
 MILLETT S swamp is a perverse piece of ground, 
 concerning which our Manchester people quar 
 reled with their pastor Millett and he with them, 
 nearly two hundred years ago. It has not been worth 
 much since, except for a trap to catch ministers in, 
 as I personally know from miry experience. 
 
 I never did see a piece of swamp, but I wanted just 
 to step from one tuft of turf to another, merely to see 
 whether I could get over ; and if the turf was only a bit 
 of grass and a little water and unmeasured depth of 
 mud, it made no difference with my enjoyment of the 
 splashing. My mother never could break me of going 
 into mud puddles. When, therefore, I waded through 
 the brushy briery and thorny chirography of our old 
 town records, and found out that this whole town was in 
 a muddle for some years about the minister s swamp, I 
 heroically determined to go to the bottom of the sub 
 ject. And I did. It is two feet and a half deep in 
 that place which lies between Jack s Hill and Mother 
 Crombie s hen house. The soil I brought out on my 
 boots was mine, and just about my full share, according 
 
158 JACK S HILL. 
 
 to the vote of the ancient town meeting that this 
 swamp be " for the use, benefit and encouragement of 
 the ministry henceforth and forever." I took my share 
 of "encouragement" when I pulled myself out of the 
 depths by the friendly aid of an alder. 
 
 When, therefore, I lately found in Cephas Old Red 
 Trunk certain pieces of paper with marks indicating 
 that he uttered substantially these words in hearing of 
 the patient alders and fir trees in Millett s swamp, I 
 was inwardly delighted. The ledge where he stood is 
 sixty feet high, as abrupt as Spy Rock. Jack s Hill 
 was for the time his pulpit. 
 
 Whether Cephas went to Jack s Hill through the 
 swamp on that occasion, I do not know ; that he went 
 through the swamp on some day is morally certain. 
 Most likely that evening he went by the old Essex 
 road, and climbed up the steep back of this rocky 
 head, which looks out boldly from the edge of the 
 forest upon the dwellers in the town. The sentences 
 which I will now transcribe, appear to have been writ 
 ten out at some leisure after the ideas had been first 
 spoken extempore on this rocky pulpit, facing Mil 
 let s swamp, on a fine summer night. It was at the 
 time when Cephas was living at Stone Cove. 
 
 These remarks were evidently addressed to an imag 
 inary congregation of ministers standing up to their 
 knees in the swamp and stretching out their arms in 
 stiff gestures like so many dead trees. No creature 
 was, however, present to listen except a screech-owl 
 with eyes and ears wide open, whose stuffed form is 
 
JACK S HILL. 159 
 
 now mounted upon my mantel-piece and looking down 
 upon me as I write his biography. He was caught and 
 skinned by the Jack Hill preacher for hooting in ser 
 mon time. The off hand talk which the owl did not 
 appreciate may, properly enough, be called 
 
 CONCIO AD CLERUM. 
 
 " Beloved hearers ! Weary days will come in which 
 you will take up the words of the prophet : Oh, that 
 I had in the wilderness a lodging place of wayfaring 
 men ; that I might leave my people, and go from 
 them. Now my advice to you is to take a stout stick 
 and start. 
 
 " There is nothing more amusing than to lose your 
 self in the heart of some small forest, not more than a 
 dozen miles in diameter. When all else fails this will 
 give a new sensation. It is easy enough to do it, only 
 walk carelessly and become so absorbed in abstruse 
 thinking as, for the time, to lose the instinct of direc 
 tion. You need to make many turns and observe no 
 marks. In this way, whether the forest is new or 
 familiar, you can soon involve yourself enough and 
 have no correct knowledge of the points of compass. 
 Then you will look on all things with strange and won 
 dering eyes, even if the objects subsequently prove to 
 be well known. Being reasonably certain of getting 
 out without very distant walking, it is a good plan to 
 stay lost nearly all day ; and toward sundown make a 
 bee line somewhere and get out. 
 
160 JACK S HILL. 
 
 " There is nothing uncomfortable about this. A level 
 headed man, accustomed to wild life, with compass and 
 matches and a bit of hard tack in his pocket, will never 
 be uneasy or have any true sense of being himself lost. 
 Paths, towns, villages, may be so lost that one has not 
 the least notion of their whereabouts ; and when a man 
 is tired of parochial care it is a very happy thing to 
 have them stay lost till it is absolutely needful to 
 hunt one up. 
 
 " Can you not imagine that it must be a perfect di 
 version from ordinary cares to be lost in a forest? 
 When I am lost in the woods, I don t care a fig whether 
 X, or Z, comes out ahead in a public quarrel. I only 
 want to know which path to take to get somewhere, or 
 whether I shall find any path leading anywhere except 
 into a bottomless bog ; although I never found a bog 
 in the woods, so deep and dirty as the miry mess some 
 of my people love to wade into, when they stir things 
 to the bottom in their attempts to throw mud at each 
 other." 
 
 Cephas was not the minister to foot it up and down 
 past the houses of his people and his meeting-house, 
 nervously thinking about his health, and worrying 
 about his parishioners ; he went out of sight and hear 
 ing of them all, and held sweet communion with 
 heaven. He walked with the Lord, that he might 
 better walk with men. 
 
 "Do you think," said the concio ad derum, "that the 
 demand in your parochial work is too great to allow 
 whole days for prayer? A visit with God, before pas 
 toral visiting, is the way to do good work. Win your 
 
JACK S HILL. 161 
 
 man at the throne of grace, before you go to the man. 
 Take a hard case and carry it to God: leave the hard 
 ness of it with Him ; and take away with you the case 
 made easy. God will give you good sense, practical 
 wisdom, tact, and grace to handle your man to your 
 mind ; or he will give you good sense and grace to 
 bear it, if the man will not be moulded. 
 
 "And as to the amount of time to be taken for 
 prayer, by all means take enough. Do not return from 
 your forest path until you know that God has heard 
 you, and that you will be satisfied with the answer 
 whatever it is. It will be poor economy of time to 
 go pottering about the parish, taking much time in 
 bunglingly trying to do hard things, which might be 
 skilfully done with ease in short space, if you would 
 only go to God to know just how to do it, and not 
 quit inquiring of Him till you find out." 
 
 It was in Cephas mind reckoned as one of the grand 
 advantages of a small country parish, that it affords 
 such choice opportunities for solitude and prayer by 
 the hour together on quiet hills. And I have myself, 
 sometimes, thought that this method of praying all 
 over one s parish is very fit, if a man is so situated as 
 to be able to do it. In a small compact community, a 
 pastor will find his closets in solitudes all around it; 
 and these solitudes may thus become, as it were, the 
 defences of his church, as the mountains around Jeru 
 salem. Common hills, consecrated by prayer and bap 
 tized with the tears of supplication, become parts of a 
 Holy Land. And I am sure my life seems of more 
 
1 62 JACK S HILL. 
 
 worth to me, in these later days, since I have found out 
 these hidden experiences of my friend. 
 
 But I cannot quit Jack s Hill until I first transcribe 
 another paragraph found among Cephas papers, the 
 original of which relates to this granite knob. 
 
 "Go," says the manuscript, "to one of the most 
 dreary ledges and lie upon your face. If your eyes are 
 full of tears and you look through the tears into the 
 poor thin rock moss, you will behold a glory singular as 
 if heaven itself opened to you. There is ah unsus 
 pected depth to the moss, and its flakes are magnified. 
 Its foliage seems firm and vast like evergreens on a 
 mountain side. Little pebbles appear like great rough 
 boulders. The coloring is wonderful, beyond anything 
 ever seen in the common world. Minute patches of 
 rock, having apparently little color, glow like celestial 
 fires j the hues are intense; no precious stones in the 
 crowns of kings have any such depth and watery rich 
 ness ; they are moist as if with the dews of heaven ; 
 they rival the dew drops. Seen through tears the rock 
 is not dry ; it is not common ; it is not desolate ; it is 
 alive and growing like a garden of God. I have seen 
 enchanting visions among common tree tops or in 
 looking into the clouds, and strange beauty in the bot 
 tom of brooks or shallow ponds, a new world in the 
 grass with dew upon it, all these revealing the glory 
 of Goofc; but I find nothing like the bleak face of a 
 ledge. Therefore it is that I prize these praying 
 places far from towns ; and I behold the Infinite Pres 
 ence in things common. And my faith is immovable 
 as the underlying granite." 
 
THE ENGLISH HELEN. 163 
 
 XIV. 
 
 THE ENGLISH HELEN. 
 
 CEPHAS work at Stone Cove was suddenly ter 
 minated by his seeing an advertisement in an 
 English paper which led him over sea to search 
 for his long-lost brother. Cephas had hoped against 
 hope. The idea could not be given up that he should 
 sometime see his own brother s face again among the 
 living. He never ceased to inquire in divers ways, and 
 read regular files of provincial and English papers. 
 Perhaps it was some boys talk they once had together, 
 which led him to think his brother would make for 
 England, if he could get there. Once I heard Cephas 
 say that if he could look upon every face in London, 
 he thought he should find his brother; though he ac 
 knowledged that this was a mere phantom of his, the 
 fact of his brother s death by the Indians being suffi 
 ciently well established to satisfy most minds. 
 
 The advertisement which led him to cross the Atlan 
 tic was mere gibberish; several letters of ftie alpha 
 bet combined in the most arbitrary way. But Cephas 
 declared that it could be interpreted by a cipher 
 which he and his brother had agreed upon, the 
 
1 64 THE ENGLISH HELEN. 
 
 morning they started to run away. According to the 
 key, which he still preserved, he had his brother s ad 
 dress in London. 
 
 His search in London led him, singularly enough, to 
 the house of the person who inserted the advertise 
 ment. And he found, in a very old pocket-book on the 
 premises, a key of the cipher like his own, in a very 
 boyish handwriting. Cephas believed it had been 
 copied from that of his brother. The owner of the 
 pocket-book had just died, having been unfortunately 
 suffocated by a hempen collar. He had come to Eng 
 land from the provinces. Cephas found the family to 
 which the young man belonged, in the north of England. 
 The sisters said they remembered a little American lad 
 once camping near their old home, with straggling 
 Indians; so that Cephas finally settled on this as a 
 confirmation of the Indian theory of his brother s 
 death, and gave up the search. 
 
 Although Cephas did not find his brother, he did 
 find the English Helen, Nellie as he always called 
 her. The letters, that came to me before his return, 
 conveyed nearly all the information I could at that 
 time gather concerning this woman. Cephas rarely 
 alluded to her after he came back ; and I did not feel 
 free to question him. Only once did I venture. Soon 
 after his return I asked, 
 
 "Whaf about the English Helen?" 
 The tears started in his eyes, and he said, 
 " Do not speak to me of any one bearing that name. 
 There is only one Helen." 
 
THE ENGLISH HELEN. 165 
 
 He had several letters from Nellie, and often wrote. 
 If he happened to take one of her letters from the 
 post when I was with him, he would voluntarily read 
 me parts of it, as if from any other entertaining 
 friend. Her letters were singularly sprightly, marked 
 with great keenness of mind and good sense. This 
 friendship was for the time like a new fountain of life 
 to him ; filling in some measure the need which had 
 sorely pressed upon him since the breaking up of his 
 Island Home. 
 
 Some things concerning the English Helen, 1 may 
 suitably relate ; indeed, it is needful that I do so, since 
 by the curious turns which make life half comedy and 
 half tragedy, her life was subsequently interwoven with 
 that of Cephas in a somewhat singular manner. 
 
 Her father was an energetic business man; but his 
 line was not one to make him more manly, or to en 
 large his sympathies. Thoroughly engrossed in making 
 money, his success and decision led him to tolerate no 
 opposition. So that, at last, he had fixed upon him 
 the infirmity, which so many of us plead guilty to, 
 of living mainly to have his own way. Helen s mother 
 was a woman of unusual mental powers, well educated, 
 of marked benevolence, and very positive religious life. 
 
 Unfortunately, the father had not fallen in with the 
 wishes of his only child, in respect to her friendships. 
 One, with whom she had been most intimately ac 
 quainted since childhood, and to whom she had been 
 plighted since her early teens, had, a few years before 
 Cephas met her, perished upon the great plains of 
 
1 66 THE ENGLISH HELEN. 
 
 America ; having first escaped from the red men, whose 
 refined tortures made him choose death by starvation 
 in hopeless wandering. The horrible details of this 
 event, coming through some mischance to Helen s 
 knowledge, led her to the very verge of madness. 
 
 When Cephas met her, she was so far recovered, as 
 to find diversion and some measure of new life in the 
 acquaintance of the young American. At this time, 
 the father was urging upon the daughter a match singu 
 larly distasteful to her, but desirable in the eyes of one 
 who worshiped wealth. 
 
 Cephas, after leaving England, met mother and 
 daughter upon the continent ; their acquaintance ripen 
 ing into a warm friendship. His letters gave glowing 
 accounts of Helen s charming qualities. Great strength 
 of will and a naturally buoyant disposition were ap 
 parently bringing her up from the long continued ill 
 health, which had clouded her recent years. Unas 
 suming, unselfish, well proportioned in gifts and graces, 
 thoroughly disciplined, of much native force of intellect, 
 she seemed to Cephas an almost perfect woman. And 
 she was so like her mother, that my friends admiration 
 was equally shared by the two ; the mother apparently 
 little the older, the ill health of the one and the 
 youthfulness of the other having made them like com 
 panions. 
 
 When Cephas returned to America, he went to Rio 
 and to New Orleans upon charitable errands devised 
 by his new friends. After his return to my home on 
 Cape Anne, Cephas remained some time with me; 
 
THE ENGLISH HELEN. 167 
 
 and then went to California, to engage in ministerial 
 labor. But he was soon obliged to return ; with health 
 so impaired, that it was only after many months half 
 play and half work in two or three seaboard parishes 
 of Nuntundale, that he became fit for hard service 
 again. 
 
 It was during his absence in California that an inci 
 dent occurred, which excited me greatly at the time. 
 The sensation can shock no reader as it did me. The 
 contrast between its recital and the chapters which 
 begin and which close this story, cannot be so great 
 as the incongruity between this adventure and the 
 sober, studious and devout life of Cephas. 
 
 The affair grew directly out of his recent trip to 
 England. Searching for his brother, he became some 
 what known to certain officers of justice; and for a 
 time he was a lounger about police courts in London. 
 I do not know as I ought to say that his face was one 
 to excite suspicion: it is certain that Helen did not 
 think so. But his countenance was very easily changed; 
 and some days, he wore shockingly bad clothes, to 
 further the finding of his brother; besides, his Wild 
 Man nature made him delight in strange company. 
 Cephas told me that one day, not long before he left 
 London for the continent, he heard in a coffee house 
 that a warrant was out for his arrest for supposed 
 complicity in a robbery. He gave, however, not the 
 slightest credence to the report, and was quite amused 
 by it. But just before he left me to go to California, 
 he received word, from a name unknown to him in 
 
1 68 THE ENGLISH HELEN. 
 
 England, that a certain man with whom he had been 
 brought in contact in hunting up the hanged provincial, 
 was actually in pursuit of him. Cephas placed little 
 confidence in the communication; although he remem 
 bered having caused this gentleman s arrest, and his 
 conviction for a crime. Wh.at came of it all, will be 
 related in the next chapter. 
 
THE ESSEX WOODS. 169 
 
 XV. 
 
 THE ESSEX WOODS. 
 
 A FAVORITE drive for the lovers of Cape Anne 
 scenery lies through this famous forest. The 
 thick growth, rough boulders, high ledges, 
 swamp lands, and brook, give a constant charm ; which 
 is heightened by the varying colors of different seasons, 
 the changing light of morning and evening, the shade 
 at noon, or quiet hours under the high moon near mid 
 night. Reaching out from this roadway are the paths 
 of the woodcutter ; and if the pleasure seekers who roll 
 along this hard way with fine carnages will tie up, 
 strike off into the timber, and walk for a score of miles, 
 as they easily may without seeing human face or cross 
 ing a high road, they will know that the woods as 
 well as the sea conspire to make Manchester the most 
 delightful resort upon the whole New England coast. 
 
 Half a mile above Baker s saw mill a rough hill rises 
 from the edge of the wet and scraggly meadows of the 
 brook. It may be readily reached in winter over the 
 ice. In summer there are various paths from the pub 
 lic road. To me, the best of all is the old route, 
 passing the mill and to the left of Shingle Place Hill. 
 
170 THE ESSEX WOODS. 
 
 It is to this Beaver Hill, named for the old beaver- 
 dam in the stream below it, that I will invite the 
 reader to walk with me on an autumnal morning. 
 
 Just before we get to the wall beyond the clearing, a 
 fine echo may be awakened by speaking to the wood- 
 covered hill across the pond. Civilly addressing the 
 echo and bidding him good morning, which is a 
 cheering thing to do in a lonely place, we creep 
 through the bars like a sheep, or bound over the top 
 like a deer if we can imagine a deer touching the top 
 rail with one forefoot. We then look about the wall on 
 the right, to pick up one of the rattlesnake canes I 
 always keep in store there ; a cane with a forked foot 
 having the prongs pointed, ready to pin a reptile to the 
 earth if need be. Thus armed, we walk through the 
 snake country. All this region abounding in broken 
 ledges, minute caves, boulders piled up cobble stone 
 fashion, and old trees which are stepping off their 
 rocky foundations with roots half above ground as if 
 walking away in search of soil into which to insert their 
 toes, this is the very paradise for snakes; and every 
 straggling, black, brown or spotted root looks like one. 
 But Hildreth of " Mount Zion " has cast the serpent out 
 of this Eden. 
 
 If I have the story correctly, he gained his living one 
 winter from a rattlesnake bank, drawing one whenever 
 he was short of money and carrying it to the selectmen, 
 who upon his allowing it to dangle about their legs 
 paid the town bounty "at sight." Rattle and fang 
 had crept for winter quarters into the crevice of a 
 
THE ESSEX WOODS. 171 
 
 ledge; but Hildreth warmed up the front by a fire 
 whenever he wanted one of them. As the heat pene 
 trated the cave like a warm spring sun, one creeping 
 thing like Noah s adventurous dove ventured forth 
 to see what sort of footing the snake family was likely 
 to find after the winter s nap; then the inhabitant of 
 " Mount Zion " took the half-wakened prize in a slip- 
 noose on the end of a pole, put his fire out and went to 
 town. This process, kept up for some months, makes 
 it now safe to walk in the woods. During all my wan 
 derings I never heard a rattle except once by the 
 roadside toward Gloucester, though I have lunched 
 and napped in the very headquarters of these pests, 
 which popular imagination plants in every wide forest 
 and on every pleasant hill. Old woodsmen tell me 
 that they have rarely seen this dreaded reptile. Never 
 theless, I always carry a forked stick ; and have several 
 of them out under my back stairs at this writing, which 
 have traveled far without one victim. 
 
 I wish I could take every one of my friends by this 
 path. There are upon it so many stone blocks for 
 seats antl for study tables, that I am frequently drawn 
 into this place to make sermons. I would rather see 
 trees with roots in the air torn up by storms ; or look 
 up now and then to see the still shower of red and 
 yellow leaves ; or rise to drink from the brook in the 
 way; or walk a little in one of the paths which open 
 everywhere as if the woods were infinite, than sit in a 
 house, and see wall paper, pictures in oil and steel, 
 stuffed chairs, book racks, and such mean furnishing 
 
172 THE ESSEX WOODS. 
 
 for a study. I am always longing for this grand room 
 in the forest, or some room with the sea dashing in at 
 one side of it. 
 
 All the morning in question I was sauntering along 
 this road, note taking; sitting on stumps, flat stone 
 tables, or astride some mill log left by the way. When 
 I reached the point where the road runs into a 
 steep rocky hillside, I turned to the left. At that time, 
 the path led among slender and graceful trees, lifting 
 tufts of shade like youngj palms since cut and sold 
 for cordwood. I then followed an obscure track 
 now wholly overgrown up the side of Beaver Hill. 
 Big boulders here are plenty as pumpkins in a corn 
 field. 
 
 By the side of a table rock I found what appeared at 
 a distance like a buffalo robe ; it proved to be the thick 
 heavily matted roots of fern and brake interwoven till 
 they made a tough blanket four inches thick and two 
 yards square. It had grown on the rock and been 
 rolled off by the wind. This natural felt-cloth I seized, 
 to make a carpet for my perch where I proposed to 
 study. Passing to the very crown of the hill, *there is 
 a boulder equal in size to twenty feet cube, the height 
 perhaps greater than the width. It has scratched 
 along the ledge in glacial times, and the harrow 
 stopped moving in its very tooth marks. One edge of 
 the bottom rests on the planed rock below ; the other 
 edge is tilted up three feet and fixed on a triangular 
 stone, which itself stands on one of its corners. As 
 cending to the top of this eccentric boulder, a fine sea 
 
THE ESSEX WOODS. 1 73 
 
 view appears in the southeast. It is a choice resting 
 place for one who dislikes chairs and common study 
 tables. 
 
 Carefully climbing by aid of a rough pole, with 
 the root blanket upon my shoulders, my head was no 
 sooner upon a level with the top than I saw a man 
 lying there apparently asleep. Had I suddenly found 
 myself lying round loose in an unexpected place, I 
 could not have been more astonished : for he had on a 
 thick drab suit like mine and a wide soft hat good 
 for the woods, rain or sun ; and, though his face was 
 turned from me, I could see that he was about my size. 
 Rather won by his rig to claim him for a brother, I 
 gathered myself up and stood beside him, so holding 
 my mat, which had not been shaken or dusted since 
 creation that I could easily dash it into his eyes to 
 blind and confuse him, should he upon waking prove 
 to be an ugly customer. Bracing my foot ready for 
 action, I said, 
 
 " Good morning, my friend." 
 
 Without turning his head, I saw his hand moving, 
 and he quickly sprang to his feet, drawing a revolver so 
 suddenly as to almost throw me off guard and off the 
 rock. Relying on my dirty shield and weapon, and 
 particularly upon my good nature, I looked him in the 
 eye my own eye glowing with kindness and mirth 
 and said again, 
 
 " Good morning, my friend." 
 
 His eye did not change, or his countenance ; and, 
 for half a moment he seemed to pierce me through and 
 
174 THE ESSEX WOODS. 
 
 through with his eyes, and to hold me off with fixed 
 lips. But, my face retaining its humor unchanged, he 
 quietly put up his weapon and extended his hand, say 
 ing* 
 
 " Good morning." 
 
 This put us at once upon a free footing ; which 
 seemed very desirable on such footing as the narrow 
 roof of the rock afforded. And we sat down together 
 upon the fibre rug. 
 
 " It is only a little while," said I, " since I saw two 
 men praying together where we now sit ; and it would 
 be a pity to make this altar run blood." 
 
 This remark drew forth the beginning of an oath, 
 which was only half uttered; then, as if suddenly 
 awakening from an ill dream, he turned and looked me 
 fully in the face, saying, 
 
 " Do you pray ? " 
 
 " Certainly," said I, " don t you ? " 
 
 " Yes, the swearer s prayer, in oaths." 
 
 We were silent for a moment: I thinking over the 
 man I had found, measuring and weighing. As I had 
 seen him standing, he was an inch less than six feet, 
 and a hundred and forty pounds weight. He had now 
 thrown his hat off. His high forehead, mild deep and 
 easily kindled eyes, sunburned cheeks, full, dark beard, 
 showed me the man in a new dhase. He was about 
 thirty years old I thought, with much wickedness over 
 lying fine natural endowments. I felt a singular confi 
 dence that I had seen that face before, where I 
 could not then think ; and I afterwards concluded that 
 
THE ESSEX WOODS. 175 
 
 I must have been mistaken. The face haunted me for 
 months, and I tried to remember whether I had not 
 dreamed about him. It seems like a dream now, as I 
 remember him standing on the rock. 
 
 " Where is your home ? " I asked. 
 
 He took from his pocket a little Testament ; and, 
 having found a text, looked at me with a half quizzing 
 expression mingled jest and earnest yet with an 
 underlying malice as I thought. Then coolly taking 
 out an Arkansas toothpick, he pointed with it to the 
 words (John i : 39), " Come and see." Upon this, I 
 drew out an old bowie knife, which once appeared as 
 witness in a California court, and which, coming into 
 my hands, I often carry into the woods and in far 
 wanderings on dark nights. Picking my teeth with 
 the point I looked up laughing into his laughing eyes, 
 and said, 
 
 "Well, I ll go anywhere with you, if you carry the 
 sword of the Spirit, which is the Word." 
 
 As if I might be a companion in his rascalities, 
 whatever they were, he led the way ; and in for an 
 adventure I nimbly followed. Going down the north 
 ern slope of the hill, which is as familiar to me as the 
 steps of my house, I saw that he was aiming for the 
 Forty-foot Boulder ; which, big as a house, lies like an 
 egg in its nest in th^bottom of a swampy basin, whose 
 sides are clad with birch and the rim with pine. The 
 growth of the timber in recent years now hides the rock 
 from the observer upon the hillside, and conceals the 
 form of the basin. Gathering up a handful of the 
 
1/6 THE ESSEX WOODS. 
 
 delicate, long fingered white moss found near the de 
 scending place, I went close to the quick heels of 
 my companion to the side of the rock. An old birch 
 clinging to a crevice has made a ladder way by which 
 to ascend, and on top is growing a pine twenty-five feet 
 high. My new found friend, spry as a cat, ran up the 
 wooden path; and I followed. Upon the top was his 
 rifle wrapped in a blanket; and scattered here and 
 there were a dozen eggs and shells, a bread loaf, a few 
 fagots, and the marks of a small fire. Standing and 
 leaning his back to the pine, he asked me to sit. Fum 
 bling for a very dirty pipe and tobacco pouch, he 
 began, 
 
 " I am an English detective searching for a man 
 often in these woods. You know him. I want you to 
 help me find him." 
 
 Drawing forth several pieces of British gold, he 
 threw them into my hat lying at his feet, saying, 
 
 " I know who you are. I knew your boulder, and 
 lay there to catch you far from the town where I must 
 not be seen. I need not tell you that you must now 
 pledge me your aid, or never leave this rock. It will 
 be better for you to take all the gold you want, and 
 help me." 
 
 This was said so quietly and decidedly that I knew 
 he meant business. I merely ros^jto my feet, saying, 
 
 " You do not dare to handle a pistol so long as you 
 carry a New Testament. The Word of God will not 
 allow you to do me harm. I saw your Testament half 
 sticking out of your coat pocket before I roused you 
 out of your sleep." 
 
THE ESSEX WOODS. 177 
 
 "Yes, I know it," he replied, seating himself at the 
 foot of the pine; "but you know my man. You are 
 helping to conceal him. I will have him in my power 
 or now use my power over you." 
 
 " I know your man," I answered, " and you will not 
 find him or harm me. I had heard about this search 
 and about you. My friend is in California, and you 
 may catch him if you can." 
 
 This I said, looking fixedly into his eyes. For the 
 first time, his eyes were unsteady ; then I knew I was 
 master and that he was merely testing my will. To my 
 surprise, he merely drew forth a well worn pack of 
 cards, and asked me to have a hand: saying, in a 
 familiar tone, - 
 
 " Your cloth in my country sometimes try a game 
 with me." 
 
 Said I, "Let us be merry to-day, and make a fire." 
 
 Drawing a match, I set pine needles, dead leaves and 
 twigs to burning ; and with his little store of wood there 
 was soon a bright blaze. 
 
 "My friend," said I, "I hate tobacco worse than 
 George Trask does, and cards as if they were published 
 by an Infernal Tract Society : burn both. Come to my 
 house to-night; we will walk and talk to-morrow, and 
 then you will ship for England. If I hear of your 
 hanging around these woods any longer, I ll see to it 
 that you hang in England, surely as your name is 
 Johns." 
 
 The stranger poured out his fine tobacco into the 
 flame ; made a playhouse of his cards and put fire into 
 
1 78 THE ESSEX WOODS. 
 
 it ; cracked his pipe ; drew out a brandy flask, poured 
 the spirit into a cavity of the rock and set fire to it, 
 broke the bottle, then turned to me : 
 
 " I am not the man you take me for. No matter 
 what my name is. I like your eye, and I believe in 
 that, although I do not believe in your profession. 
 Your friend is very likely beyond my present reach. 
 In a twelve month I will see you again, if I do not 
 find him. Meantime, I will meet you to-morrow morn 
 ing on Image Hill, and walk down shore for the day, 
 then be off: where, you need not ask. And I shall be 
 obliged to you if you will get a letter for me at the Post 
 Office to-night, marked Richard Johnson. But give me 
 your word that you will not betray me." 
 I said, " Show me your right forearm." 
 " My arm is not Sam s arm ; it is clean," said he. 
 As he rolled up his sleeve I saw that the man who 
 ever he might be was not he of whom Cephas had 
 spoken. Rather taken with the adventure, and de 
 sirous of learning more of the man and his relation 
 to the pursuit of my friend, I gave him my word ; then 
 crept down the rockside, and went home. Not that 
 day making my sermon, nevertheless I found a new 
 illustration of one or two points of strong doctrine. 
 
A WALK TO NORMAN S WOE. 179 
 
 XVI. 
 A WALK TO NORMAN S WOE. 
 
 NEXT day, unwilling to walk with a man who 
 looked so much like myself, I put on a disguise 
 and set out for Old Neck beach. I had finished 
 my morning s writing ; and the sun was well up, glowing 
 with a good heat. An almost imperceptible breath 
 from the sea tempered the air, and made it one of the 
 most delightful of early October days. My heart was 
 full of comfort ; and I was rather glad to be a hundred 
 miles from an old farmer, who used to afflict my child 
 hood with the assurance that every particularly fine day 
 was a " weather breeder." Let it breed, thought I ; I ll 
 not brood. 
 
 W T alking across lots from the railroad station under 
 the shade trees to the right of Sundown Hill, and leap 
 ing a minute finger of the sea, I climbed over the top 
 of Thunderbolt Ledge ; marking well the giant foot 
 prints in the rock, and half wondering whether I might 
 meet man or demon that day on the hill tops. As I 
 looked out upon the burnished deep, the waves were 
 flashing and sparkling far toward the horizon; and I 
 saw the spray rising wherever the water touched the 
 
l8o A WALK TO NORMAN S WOE. 
 
 rocks. Pushing down through the singing sands into 
 the musical waves, I took my bath ; and was then ready 
 to walk with friend or foe. In my ignorance of human 
 nature, I did not believe that a man who filled his 
 pockets with New Testaments and pistols was likely to 
 make any efficient use of either. 
 
 The morning light seemed to have touched the 
 heart of the Englishman. I found him under the 
 young walnuts, which keeping open doors to friendly 
 breezes from the sea seek shelter from the northwest 
 wind under the lee of Image Rock. The bald cliff 
 above looked under the genial light not more inviting 
 than did the detective s face, which while it still had 
 stone enough in it had bright sunshine on it; so that I 
 thought we should have a good day. It was clear to 
 me as the morning light that I had to do with a man of 
 unusual capabilities, who had seen much of good 
 society and too much bad. He was the perfect gen 
 tleman, with a smack of the vulgar villain about him ; 
 a man of amazing native vigor, made a little fickle and 
 shaky by the hard hand of his own sins. And I had 
 already seen enough of him to know that his soul was 
 like the deep sea in its responsiveness to storms or 
 sunshine. 
 
 Our course led past Eagle Head ; and I could not 
 resist the temptation to take my half wild companion 
 out upon the knob. I led him far down the sides of 
 this precipitous crag to a place upon the outside, where 
 the waves were washing into an unseen cavern and 
 making a hollow roar. 
 
A WALK TO NORMAN S WOE. I.8l 
 
 " Here is the spot," I said, " where my friend, whom 
 you are chasing round the world, used often to pray ; 
 and I remember that he once spoke of praying for an 
 old man in London. What do you know about that?" 
 
 "Your friend," he answered with curling lip and 
 brightening eye, "is a thief. You ought to know it. 
 He degenerated during his trip to England, and devel 
 oped all his total depravity." 
 
 "Go West, and find him, I replied." 
 
 We walked down the bold shore toward Dana s beach 
 not speaking a word. When we paused a moment 
 upon the roof of Sunset Rock the low crown which 
 rises perhaps half way between the two beaches my 
 comrade began as follows : 
 
 "Upon one dark afternoon, about a year ago, a boy 
 called at my office with a message, the flavor of which 
 I liked exceedingly. I went with him to a very dingy 
 counting room, where I found an old man sitting by a 
 table, upon which was a bag of gold, and a little por 
 trait on a lady s toilet box painted by a French artist. 
 At his motion I sat down, beside him, and he shoved 
 along the picture and canvas bag, saying, 
 
 " Find this man a Yankee; gone to America in a 
 sailing vessel \ robbed me of a jewel. 
 
 "I asked the kind of jewelry taken. The old man 
 arose, opened a vault, and took out another gold-bag. 
 
 " Find this man, he said, and I ll get the jewel. 
 Your only concern is the man. 
 
 "And then he pointed into the vault still open, 
 where I could see the coin bags piled high, and re 
 peated, 
 
1 82 A WALK TO NORMAN S WOE. 
 
 " Get me this man. 
 
 "I knew at once what he meant; for I had," now 
 the officer looked up with sudden fire and fierceness, 
 with strange intensity and quickening of speech, 
 "what you ought to know, not only a reputation for 
 doing what I set out to do ; but " 
 
 " You old villain ! " said I sharply. " Let me get you 
 off the sand into this Brass Kettle here! " 
 
 For we had by this time at low tide walked down 
 Dana s beach to the Kettle crevice, which opens seven 
 ty-five feet deep into the iron coast ; a narrow orifice 
 where two cannot go abreast, and where the breast of a 
 fat man would plug the path. Lighted from above by 
 a crack in the ledge, it is easy enough getting along 
 when the tide is out. I pointed my precious rascal, 
 who was, however, something of a talker unless I was 
 mistaken in him, toward the ledge, where he did not 
 seem to see the little opening. But I led the way, say 
 ing, with a merry laugh which took the frown out of his 
 eyebrows, 
 
 " Come in here. Good men and true, like you and 
 me, ought to hide ourselves in caves of the earth." 
 
 So in we went, he saying, close behind me : 
 
 "I am no villian. I have been thought to be un 
 scrupulous; but I never did what I have often been 
 tempted to do, and perhaps what I may do yet. As to 
 your friend, as you call him, you are deceived. He 
 is a hardened fellow. As soon as the old man showed 
 me the French portrait, I recognized an American face 
 whose likeness I had seen when he was under sentence 
 
A WALK TO NORMAN S WOE. 183 
 
 for a diamond robbery, but he had escaped. By find 
 ing him, I get the old man s prize, and one from the 
 jeweller, and the government reward. This man must 
 be found, and you will help, or " 
 
 I hastily interrupted him when he came to "or," 
 for he had grown very red in the face. "That is a 
 boiling hot statement for such a cool kettle as this. 
 My friend is all right, and you are the man that is 
 deceived. You had better get out of this, and reduce 
 your temper by walking into the surf." 
 
 "That is cool. I ll do it," he answered, quietly 
 moving toward the mouth of this freezing kettle. 
 
 The tide was just turning; and heavy rollers were 
 coming in from some distant storm. After plunging 
 into the brine and pickling ourselves, we were soon on 
 our way again down the shore. The sharp shock of 
 an ice cold wave is a good thing for dampening an 
 individual whose wrath is liable to flame. It would be 
 a good arena for all disputants on warm themes to 
 plant them bare in the edge of curling breakers. 
 
 Under the tall trees of the open but uncombed 
 grove, we walked just back of the fisherman s path to 
 the Shark s Mouth rocks. There we lay down, and 
 looked over into the foaming jaws. Crossing then a 
 short beach to the craggy shores of Crow Island prom 
 ontory, we waited to watch the waves battering the 
 castle-like shores. Lunching under the oaks on the 
 neck before coming to Crescent Beach, we then saun 
 tered over the sands and mounted the heights beyond. 
 We cracked nuts at Cobble Stone beach, where the 
 
1 84 A WALK TO NORMAN S WOE. 
 
 immeasurable water power of the Atlantic has been 
 hammering stone for some hundreds of thousands of 
 years ; doing fine work, in rounding the rocks till they 
 are almost perfect in shape, by knocking them together 
 with thundering sound in time of storm. The detec 
 tive rolled one of these hard-boiled eggs of the sea 
 up to the bank : and I have my foot upon it now, under 
 my study table, as I write. Then we walked by the 
 coast line path toward the Flume. All this time, my 
 strange chum was telling me the story of his search 
 for my friend. 
 
 He had tracked him for nearly a year; to the Azores, 
 Rio, New Orleans, Boston, and now to Cape Anne. 
 In cities he had heard of him hoodwinking the police 
 as the detective said by distributing charities to the 
 poor ! In the country he heard of him leading a half 
 wild life, as if he were "mad, or always hiding ; with a 
 strange streak of devotion about him, and pretending 
 to some grand benevolent work to which he had given 
 his life ! But often the detective s suspicions were so 
 confirmed by Cephas mingling with the worst of men, 
 by uncouth doings and sudden movements, that the 
 officer felt more and more sure that my friend was the 
 identical man whom he was seeking for a double crime. 
 And it was not easy to shake him off from this belief. 
 "It is sure," he said, "as the ground I tread on." 
 Just then his foot slipped, and he would have fallen 
 into the yawning chasm, to the brink of which I had 
 carefully led him without his thinking that the next 
 step was upon the edge of destruction ; but I had kept 
 
A WALK TO NORMAN S WOE. 185 
 
 a quick eye and firm hand ready, and I planted his 
 feet on a sure rock. A fissure three hundred feet long, 
 sixty deep, four wide, with eight boulders beaded along 
 the narrow top, this is the Flume. The walls are 
 precipitous as the side of a house. It is where a vein 
 of trap has been cut out by the chiseling and sawing of 
 the sharp sea waves ; and the high tides still pour into 
 one end of the chasm. 
 
 We were soon among the round stones in the bottom 
 of the Flume. About midway we paused, looking up 
 to the ribbon of blue sky ; and we saw that one of the 
 rocks directly over us appeared ready to slip from its 
 place. But I pointed downwards saying : 
 
 "Here is a rock upon which your jewel robber and I 
 have covenanted together; and here we have prayed. 
 I now aver to you again that you are mistaken in sup 
 posing my friend your robber. Your bungling French 
 portrait deceived you. The real convicted criminal of 
 the diamond robbery has been arrested in Chicago. I 
 know it, and can prove it. I can satisfy you on this 
 point. Probably this Chicago fellow is the man you 
 ought to find. But I believe that you are hunting my 
 friend upon wholly different grounds. And if you are 
 ready to do it without more evidence than you have of 
 any real guilt, then you are not a good man and true. 
 I believe, however, that you are a man having two 
 natures, a pocket-pistol nature, and a New Testament 
 nature. Kneel with me on this rock, and turn from a 
 course you know to be wrong." 
 
 I looked him fixedly in the eye while saying this, but 
 
1 86 A WALK TO NORMAN S WOE. 
 
 his eye never gave way. He answered with an oath, 
 
 Not ." 
 
 Turning to walk up the path, we were soon above 
 ground. It is too cold to stay long in this deep sea 
 cellar. When I saw how cool, cold and determined was 
 my companion, I almost gave him over. I thought the 
 ocean tonic had merely made his worst nature rally. 
 And we walked on almost silently toward Norman s 
 Woe. We paused, however, for a few moments in the 
 little pine grove near the path ; and stretched ourselves 
 on the clean carpet of pine needles. I fell to thinking 
 of my last reading of the Greek Testament there with 
 a clerical friend, when suddenly my hard customer 
 drew out his pocket Testament, and, with an expression 
 almost malignant slowly read the words (Heb. 4: 15), 
 " Was in all points tempted like as we are" 
 
 Measuring his words, he added this comment, " If 
 Christ had such thoughts as I have, he was a fiend." 
 
 "Without sin! Without sin! Read again," said I 
 snatching the book from his hand and pointing to the 
 text "Christ was tempted, but did not sin by allowing 
 temptation to lodge in his mind a moment." 
 
 The detective s lip was quivering. Handing the 
 book back I saw a name on the fly in a fine hand, and 
 so, changing the topic, I asked, 
 
 "Will you please let me read your name in this 
 book?" 
 
 "Wherefore is it that thou dost ask after my name 
 (Gen. 32 : 29) ?" he answered. 
 
 He arose, and we walked on without speaking 
 
A WALK TO NORMAN S WOE. 187 
 
 till we stood upon the edge of the great gash cut a 
 hundred , feet into the face of the cliff at Norman s 
 Woe. He sat down, hanging his feet over one of the 
 worst places where he could sit, as if hoping to lose his 
 presence of mind and fall. But his mind did not for 
 sake him. 
 
 "This rock," said I, "is witness that I plead with 
 you as a brother to turn off from your pursuit." 
 
 He whistled a few notes of an English street song, 
 then rose, speaking in a tone of contempt, 
 
 "Brother? Pursuit? I will follow this business to 
 the bottom. I know my patron s purpose, and mine. 
 And I know you. If it were not for your profession I 
 would" 
 
 He paused suddenly, drew his revolver, and flung it 
 into the sea. Then added, "I believed you last night 
 that my game had gone to California, but this morning 
 I learned something which makes me think him near 
 by ; now this Chicago lie makes me sure that your piety 
 is like that of your friend. I believe you are playing 
 false with me. But I will not play false with you. As 
 for this jewel-snatcher, I ll soon have him." Then, 
 completely changing his tone, and laughing, he said, 
 " I wish I had my pipe and broken brandy flask, and I 
 .would drink and smoke to his health. But no more of 
 this. 
 
 "Can we go back by a new path? I hate to retrace 
 any steps once taken." 
 
 We returned through the broad grove of pines by 
 " the old road " to Kettle Cove ; and then I made him 
 
1 88 . A WALK TO NORMAN S WOE. 
 
 take back tracks, across the Black and White beaches 
 and through the woods, up shore. Reaching Image 
 Hill a little after dark we lunched, then picked up 
 blanket and rifle secreted there in the morning, and I 
 went with him across the musical sands to Walnut 
 Cove ; but he did not care to camp in one of the rare 
 groves which mark either side of the landing, thinking 
 the place too near houses. So we hurried past Lobster 
 Cove, turning to the left, and climbed Gale s Point. 
 When we came to the St. Andrew s pine, its wild cross- 
 like shape was very sharply marked against the moon 
 now rising from the sea a little past its full. My com 
 panion started like a guilty man in sight of the Sav 
 iour s cross. But in a moment he broke the spell : 
 
 " This is a true St. Andrews. If I were to become a 
 martyr, I should choose just such a headland as this, 
 looking out upon the moonlit sea." 
 
 Moving across the pasture to the Umbrella Tree, we 
 kindled a little fire. I then bade the man good night, 
 saying that I would bring a boat in the morning, and 
 ferry him over to the Newport beach to take the Boston 
 train ; promising also to ask for a letter which I had 
 not found by the previous mail. I left him toasting his 
 feet, and leaning his back against the wall of rock 
 on the south, under which he had spread his blanket. 
 
 But I could not go home : I retired to a nook in the 
 rocks and began to pray. Soon, however, I heard a 
 sound of voices which quite startled me. Rising in 
 the darkness to peer over the top of my rocky battle 
 ment, I saw the Englishman standing by the fire look- 
 
A WALK TO NORMAN S WOE, . 189 
 
 ing at his hands; and then he uttered a half wild 
 cry, 
 
 " My hands are not yet red ! Not yet ! " 
 
 Then he spoke softly, as if to a woman or to the 
 angel dead: and the east wind bore the sound to my 
 ears : 
 
 "Go away mother: go away. Get up from your 
 knees. You need not pray with me. I ll pray." 
 
 And the strong man kneeled down with his face 
 toward the rock ; but I could make out only the closing 
 words, 
 
 " * * my soul to take." 
 
 In a moment he had wrapped himself in his blanket 
 and was still. 
 
 I hurried home, and first finding a letter for the 
 foreigner slept soundly three or four hours; then 
 arose, and under the light of the last quarter of the 
 moon rowed down the harbor, so as to give the stran 
 ger an early breakfast and help him off. The wind 
 had freshened, and the sky was becoming gray with 
 mist, the "sleepy stars" finding it hard winking with 
 so much wet on their eye lashes. The brood of the 
 weather breeder was hatching. By the sound coming 
 over Gale s Point, the sea promised to breathe hard 
 that day. Ascending the headland I was climbing over 
 the wall near the camp, when I was led to stop before 
 turning the corner of rock which concealed the sleeper, 
 by overhearing his troubled dreams. It was a gentle, 
 persuasive, loving voice : 
 
190 A WALK TO NORMAN S WOE. 
 
 "Lie down, mother: lie down. I love you; but I 
 cannot bear to have you praying for me all night. You 
 need sleep." 
 
 Then in a moment I heard a quiet, earnest tone, 
 
 "Be still, be still, my child." 
 
 " Do you say be still ? How can I be quiet ? " 
 
 And then he slept heavily. I went away to the top 
 of the ridge where I had prayed the evening before, 
 again to pray and watch for the dawning. But soon I 
 heard a voice of prayer through the thickening mist, 
 
 " Our Father, Our Father." 
 
 An earnest cry, which I believe was heard in 
 heaven. Then I saw the flames rise ; and knowing the 
 man to be ready for work I was soon at his side. He 
 seemed a little surprised at my early arrival. Eagerly 
 snatching the letter, he tore it open, saying, 
 
 " I had a good sleep, with only a few bad dreams." 
 
 The letter told him that his London patron was dead. 
 And as there was no one else responsible for pushing 
 his errand, he at once said that he would ship quickly 
 as possible for England. 
 
 Going to Boston with him, I made sure that he 
 understood from proper authorities that my assertion 
 as to the arrest of the true robber was correct. And 
 when he waved me good-by from the ship, he said, 
 
 " I begin to believe that you and your friend are 
 all right; and that I am all wrong." 
 
SANDY POINT. 191 
 
 XVII. 
 SANDY POINT. 
 
 IT WAS only a few days after the foregoing adven 
 ture, that Cephas returned from California, 
 broken down and ready for a change of work. 
 His wonder at the incident related in the last two chap 
 ters was scarcely less than my own. It was evident 
 that the Englishman was not the one of whom Cephas 
 had been particularly warned ; and who he was, could 
 not be easily determined. Cephas concluded that it 
 must be one with whom he had come in contact when 
 searching for his brother ; and he recollected about the 
 man for whom he had been mistaken, who was about 
 his weight and size and not unlike him in some of his 
 features. His subsequent correspondence with English 
 friends gave him no clue to the matter. Once, indeed, 
 Cephas said that Helen s father was one who would 
 not hesitate to take the most decided measures to rid 
 himself of any person who had ever crossed his whims 
 or in any way incurred his dislike. Helen s next 
 letter drove this notion out of his head by an account 
 of her father s peaceful death bed, and his unusual 
 kindness to his daughter, and warm approval of her 
 
192 SANDY POINT. 
 
 friendships. But after this, Cephas heard nothing more 
 from Helen for some years. 
 
 The next parochial work my friend undertook was in 
 that part of Nuntundale known as Sandy Point. This 
 is an island, once connected with the main, and jutting 
 out from it like an arm into the deep. It has been torn 
 off by storms and the washing of the sea ; and a deep 
 frith now separates it from the solid shore. The Point 
 is a narrow strip of sand, with forty miles bold un 
 broken beach, on what is called the outside, and vari 
 ous little harbors on the side nearest the mainland. 
 Cephas first went there for a walk on the long beach. 
 He became interested in the people, and stayed 
 several months. This chapter will rehearse Cephas 
 account of the Six Days Excursion which introduced 
 him to Sandy Point. 
 
 It may as well be said here as anywhere, that I shall 
 have a standing quarrel with the reader who does not 
 love the sound of the sea, and love it so much as to be 
 glad of any excuse to walk by its waves. Lest, how 
 ever, some man who goes through books on the 
 jump leaping forests and beaches in haste to get at 
 " solid matter " should find himself stuck fast in the 
 soft sands of this long beach, I will say to him 
 frankly, 
 
 " My friend, you may. as well stop and rest a week 
 till I get through this sand strip." 
 
 I cannot half tell this story of Cephas, without 
 watching him in hours of idleness, as he saunters by 
 
SANDY POINT. 193 
 
 the seaside. I can no more think of him as separated 
 from the scenery in which he delighted than I can 
 now see his portrait upon my study wall without be 
 holding also the frame that holds it. We will then 
 read his own story in his own words, his experience of 
 Life on Sandy Point. 
 
 I had just read in my newspaper of an eminent theo 
 logian who, as it was said, had "gone abroad to find 
 the absolute rest and recreation which such a man as 
 he could hardly find in this country." I too felt the 
 need of a foreign voyage, and such a man as I went to 
 Sandy Point, a country unknown to me as Labra 
 dor, Greenland or Norway. By pushing out far into 
 the Atlantic, I thought to gain the tonic of a sea voy 
 age without its discomfort. I hoped to find, in pene 
 trating these solitudes of sand, the absolute loneliness 
 of a desert without going to Arabia or Sahara. Health 
 is roaming over these sand bluffs : let invalids go forth 
 to meet him. Sleep is to be found in these fishermen s 
 homes: let the weary and sleepless here find rest. 
 The atmosphere of the Point is full of salt and the in 
 exhaustible vigor of the sea ; by it the nerves may be 
 toned to new life. Dying man, rise up with energy, 
 and you will find new years in wandering over Sandy 
 Point. The immeasurable powers of the deep will be 
 yours, and your old age will be as youthful as that of 
 the hoary sea. 
 
 Going ashore from the fishing smack by which I 
 crossed over, I at once mounted a high sand hill, which 
 8 
 
194 SANDY POINT. 
 
 overlooks the north end of the island. The smooth 
 harbor and its crescent shore, the steeples on land and 
 the topmasts at sea, the Black Fish Light, the fort, the 
 distant shores of the main, sand under foot, and the 
 blue ocean everywhere, this was a pleasant introduc 
 tion of a Saturday night to my next week s walk. 
 
 First day. I began my tramp Monday morning in a 
 fog; first following a trail through a narrow belt of 
 pigmy woods, stunted and tangled oak like the chappa- 
 ral on the low hills of Mexico. Then I plunged about 
 among the hills of sand, a trackless desert, without 
 compass and in thick mist, striving hard to make a 
 straight path. Soon I heard the booming of the sea, 
 and this was my guide through the wastes. Climbing 
 a ridge, thinly covered with beach grass, I came sud 
 denly upon the high bank of the ocean ; and then slid 
 down its sliding sands to the waterside. 
 
 I walked as close to the pounding waves as I could, 
 sinking my feet in the soft sands. When I was weary, 
 I sat to rest on a bit of joist that had been cast ashore ; 
 and there reflected on my strange situation. Here I 
 have entered upon an unbroken beach of two score 
 miles: the shore is bare of drift wood and shells, and 
 almost bare of sea weed and pebbles ; even the sand 
 fleas are not seen. All along the shore is a bank, low 
 or high, shutting out of view the desolate sand hills 
 and the homes of seamen. The sea is wrapped in fog, 
 lifting or drooping to show a little more or a little less 
 of the wide waters. The waves are always raising their 
 
SANDY POINT. 195 
 
 white crests and advancing upon the shore, then falling 
 and retreating dark with mingled sand, advancing 
 and retreating as they have been every moment for un 
 numbered thousands of years, during day and night, 
 summer and winter, seedtime and harvest, sometimes 
 in the raging excitement of a storm, but never without 
 rising and rippling where the tide meets the land; 
 sometimes bearing upon these shores a vessel in a win 
 ter night, drowning the crew and breaking the craft, 
 but almost always as now coming upon the beach un 
 laden, save with the atmosphere of health that I came 
 here to breathe. Let me, therefore, rise and enter upon 
 what seems an interminable towpath by the side of this 
 narrow strip of raging waters. 
 
 But the fog is lifting and I see that other coasters 
 are out this morning, they on the water and I on the 
 land. Now I have found my solitude, lonely as a ship 
 skirting foreign shores. If it be said that this beach be 
 too soft for good walking, I answer that there is no 
 better diversion to a man whose brain is weary, than to 
 be obliged for six days to devote his mind to the work 
 of continually lifting his feet out of the sand. I have 
 nothing to do today but to walk along this beach. 
 This I am rather compelled to do, this or nothing. 
 On the one side is the incoming tide, on the other 
 the high bank not very easy to climb; and I must 
 trudge 
 
 " Along the shore of the unfruitful sea." 
 It is not likely that I shall have much more intel- 
 
196 SANDY POINT. 
 
 lectual activity than the big clams, which live in the 
 sands under my feet. I have found the very perfec 
 tion of idling, and do not envy an oyster his mental 
 quietness. Not today shall I go mad with thinking. 
 
 Second day. These days seem to me of wonderful 
 length. One alone is in itself a "season" by the sea 
 shore. Yesterday I made seven miles in about seven 
 hours ; and the experience was as new as a week in 
 Patagonia. Then, toward sundown, it took me more 
 than two hours to explore a bank of pudding stone 
 colored by iron. This morning I was four hours in 
 following the beach less than three miles. In about 
 fifteen busy hours on this shore, I have made only ten 
 miles, two-thirds of a mile an hour : Sandy Point miles, 
 doubtless, unmeasured, and irresponsible to any select 
 men, and withal liable to be blown away, so that 
 nobody can tell how far I have walked ; but according 
 to Gunter I have moved like a snail. I shall never be 
 able to make the first twenty miles of this beach in 
 three days. This rate of locomotion would be too 
 great for a man, who came hither to learn moderation 
 and take life easy. Forty miles in six days? Why 
 should I hurry and worry, in compelling myself to 
 average seven miles a day? 
 
 Having turned inland for an hour, exploring among 
 the settlers for bread and milk and a quiet nooning, 
 when I came again upon the water side, it seemed 
 more new than ever; as the waves rolled with spark 
 ling life and white crests upon the long beach, and the 
 the breeze freshened as if I never breathed it before. 
 
SANDY POINT. 197 
 
 " Here, where the sunny waters break, 
 And ripples this keen breeze, I shake 
 All burdens from the heart, all weary thoughts away." 
 
 And now a new day seems to be opening; four or five 
 hours by the unwearying sea. There is certainly a 
 great joy in this beach: it does not soon come to an 
 end; and it is not haunted by any other swells than 
 those that come in from the sea. I love to go to 
 beaches and shores, where there are not too many foot 
 prints. Thus far, I have found no other foot mark 
 than mine between the water s edge and the bank ; and 
 only one boat, in a hollow beyond reach of the hungry 
 waves. The surf here, even in quiet weather, curls too 
 high for putting off boats. Mile after mile I am alone : 
 turning one headland after another, a new vista opens 
 before me of this unending solitary walk by the sea. 
 This coast is as fresh to him who loves to be alone, as 
 if it were Selkirk s Island. And the ocean here is as 
 life-inspiring, as if it were made on yesterday. These 
 sands are as new to me as if I were walking on a beach 
 in one of the past geological eras ; indeed Sandy Point 
 can be hardly said to be made yet : here then is a world 
 in its making, the shifting beach and shapeless hills, 
 which are constantly changing under the strong winds. 
 If it be asked how I spend my time moving along 
 this well graded sand side-walk, I will say, Very inno 
 cently for one who leaves civilization, that he may stop 
 thinking and quiet his nerves. I select the choicest 
 pebbles I find, and look for those that have been per 
 fected in form; and those not yet finished, I throw 
 
198 SANDY POINT. 
 
 back into the tide that they may be rolled up and down 
 the sands for another century or two. And if I find a 
 living sea-urchin I throw him as far as possible into the 
 sea when the tide is going out, that he may find himself 
 at home again. Then I watch for little fishes, that have 
 come so near the shore as to be caught in a strong 
 wave, and thrown far up the sand. I at once take up 
 my profession, and moralize over them; wondering 
 that youth should be borne away by a tide. The sand 
 fleas feast on these unfortunate youth. 
 
 When I have nothing else to do, I go marching on ; 
 and this is a great diversion. What I may find on the 
 unexplored leagues of the foaming shore I know not. 
 Some parts of this beach are washed clean every tide, a 
 current carrying away all drift, leaving not a chip and 
 scarcely a pebble or bit of sea-weed. But a mile fur 
 ther on the distance is wider between the water and 
 the great sand bank which everywhere shuts off the 
 view inland, and the trend of the shore gives change of 
 current, and here are found various spoils of the sea. 
 Many a wreck of dragonfly strews this beach, with all 
 their sails still shivering in the breeze. Fine fingers of 
 sponge, coarse shells of horseshoe ten inches in diam 
 eter, sea-urchins by the score, star-fish very perfectly 
 dried on the warm sand, whited skeletons of dogfish 
 and flounder, whose bodies have been eaten by beetles 
 and their bones long exposed to the sun, the jaw bone 
 of a shark with a fine set of teeth, these are the im 
 portant discoveries which while away the hours. 
 
 I wish I knew the story of this fragment of stout 
 
SANDY POINT. 199 
 
 coat washed in by the last tide, and a little further 
 down the beach another fragment of the same cloth. 
 So much good cloth no patching seaman would will 
 ingly throw away; and I wonder whether the sharp 
 teeth which rent it, found flesh within the coat. And 
 here is a bottle just landed from an ocean voyage, 
 corked and sealed ; but the message it bears is in a 
 tongue unknown to me, and I must wait to learn its 
 tale of woe. [It was subsequently found to be a Portu 
 guese love letter, corked up by some wild young fellow 
 who was bound on a long voyage with little prospect of 
 a daily mail.- He had thrown a bottle overboard every 
 day for two weeks after embarking; and I found the 
 fourteenth. It had been in the water eight months.] 
 
 Third day. I wonderfully appreciate the freedom of 
 these three days solitary rambling over a few miles of 
 lonely shore. I have absolutely nothing to do, but to 
 sit on any stray barrel or bit of wreck or upon the edge 
 of the high bank, facing the sea and breathing in salt 
 air. I have no more care than a well fed sea-bird. I 
 am as free from all intellectual anxiety as a sandpiper. 
 No business can harrass me now. In the bright sun 
 shine and by the bracing sea, I forget all heavy labors. 
 And I enter the dashing waves freely as a South Sea 
 islander. 
 
 It is my peculiar delight to examine the breaches in 
 the wall of sand ; which stays the waves from tearing 
 up the country inland, fencing out the deep. These 
 hills are anchored by cable strands of beach grass. 
 
200 SANDY POINT. 
 
 The winter winds fill with sand the spaces between 
 the grass spires which grew the previous summer. 
 Next summer the grasses will grow higher from the 
 same roots ; and next winter will hide the summer s 
 growth, So grow the sand dunes. This beach grass is 
 essentially a military plant, fortifying the sand hills. 
 It sends out runners like a vine : the leaders make off 
 from the parent root in straight lines ; all along these 
 leading lines new spires of grass rise like the spears of 
 soldiers. Kill these grass roots; and, between wind 
 and tide, a few storms would shift the boundaries of 
 land and ocean. 
 
 The waves, in time of storm, work on the sand 
 banks like excavators; digging to no inconsiderable 
 depth for many leagues in length. Shoals and fingers 
 of sand are formed, which are moved off by strong cur 
 rents along the shore in the next storm. A vast 
 amount of sand is in this way carried round into the 
 " inside " of the island. Here it is heaped upon rocky 
 foundations, and made into breakwaters to protect 
 harbors. But these miniature "sandy points" are 
 moving back and forth, according to the play of the 
 elements : the sea shovels up the sand on one side, and 
 the wind casts it over the point, and dumps it upon the 
 other side. 
 
 Toward night, I found myself on top of one of these 
 ramparts of sand. And while sitting there, I thought 
 what a capital place this would be to be buried in. I 
 have always wanted to be cast into the ocean ; but it 
 will be expensive to charter a whale ship or ocean 
 
SANDY POINT. 201 
 
 steamer to take my body to sea, and I would like just 
 such a bluff as this for my grave. It would not be my 
 last resting-place. My dust would blow off into the 
 deep, and then roll up and down this long beach age 
 after age. No officious and blundering sexton would 
 be clipping every tree that happened to grow near my 
 head; and stupids would not be bending over an old 
 stone trying to decipher my name. Who knows how 
 it will be spelled when I am forgotten, and some benev 
 olent gentleman plays the part of Old Mortality, and 
 seeks to restore the head-stones of the obscure country 
 graveyard where my bones must moulder, if I cannot 
 get them into the sea.* 
 
 * NOTE. If there was any one thing that Cephas felt bothered 
 about it was the question what to do with his body after he had 
 done with it- His inveterate habits of walking led him to object 
 pretty decidedly to the stinted accommodations of our country 
 graveyards. I find this topic alluded to in a letter written from 
 Stone Cove : " My body will be loath to lie easy through many 
 years in a common grave. My legs will long just to walk over the 
 top of a hill, and lie down in some other valley for a year or two ; 
 and then tramp on again to some woodside or brookside where the 
 weary rest. I am stoutly opposed to putting my bones into a quiet 
 cemetery. If I could have my way, I would be buried in the 
 deep, not that I might rest in a soft white bed of tiny shells in 
 the still bottom of the sea ; but I would have my flesh give new 
 vigor to the sharks, so that my frame could lustily cut the waves 
 in the shape of fish muscle. Denied this, I would, if I could, be 
 imprisoned in the viewless winds that sweep land and sea. Or, if 
 I must leave my clay in one place, let it be on a little island, where 
 the waves are always washing, and where the sea-birds are scream 
 ing, and the storms are pounding, and the salt foam is flying 
 
202 SANDY POINT. 
 
 These delightful thoughts detained me upon the 
 bluff till the full moon rose out of the deep. Close at 
 the foot of the hill, upon the north side within the hol 
 low, were two deserted dwellings, and one of the shel 
 ters built by the Humane Society. Looking down 
 shore, I saw a distant light upon the beach bank. I 
 sat there till I shivered, and then went to the Humane 
 House thinking that, in spite of all law to the contrary, 
 I needed its warm shelter as much as any unfortunate 
 seaman ever would ; though I took care next day to 
 send the light-keeper who had charge of the house, 
 three miles, to make good the candles and wood I 
 used, so that no poor fellow should walk up dripping 
 from a wreck to find the house without fuel. But I 
 found it difficult to go to sleep early that night in my 
 new character of wrecked mariner. I persisted in 
 going often to the door and looking out upon the sea. 
 And certain lines kept running in my head : 
 
 through the air. I could imagine that my body would be reason 
 ably still, for a little while, with such surroundings. I feel very 
 sure that when my clay becomes incapable of motion in its proper 
 shape, I shall, as a spirit, make it one of the first things I aim for, 
 to go and stir up the dissolving elements and get the matter to 
 moving as soon as possible, gas to gas and dust to dust : I will not 
 be quiet till I get my body on its legs again, working through the 
 soil or marching off on the winds. I have an insatiable passion for 
 being on the move ; and when I once learn the style of traveling, 
 which obtains in the unseen, I shall begin my journeys again." 
 
 It affords me unfeigned pleasure to state that a benevolent and 
 genial Deacon a large owner of sand gave Cephas a house lot 
 on the bluff mentioned in the text, in order that his pastor might 
 be buried to his mind whenever he should wish. 
 
SANDY POINT. 203 
 
 " O lonely moon, a lonely place 
 Is this thou cheerest with thy face ; 
 Three sand-side houses, and afar 
 The steady beacon s faithful star ! " 
 
 Fourth day. There is no more reason why I should 
 climb every light house on the coast than why I should 
 climb every lamp-post in Boston. But the light keeper, 
 whom I found soon after daybreak, told me that I was 
 the only stranger he ever saw, who did not make him 
 go up stairs to show his lantern. I wandered most of 
 the d^y among the farm houses. These homes half a 
 mile or more from the beach bank are wonderfully 
 homelike ; surrounded by sand hills which are covered 
 with a thin soil and green grass. The uplands are 
 never opened with the plough, lest the wind whisk away 
 the farm. Crops grow in the valleys. The telegraph 
 poles are ridiculously low, and so are the rail fences, 
 and the thrifty apple trees. I could easily step over 
 the fences, and take off the topmost apples without 
 rising on tiptoe. It is needful, that the orchards carry 
 no top-sails ; and that they stand close-reefed, lest 
 the storms pluck them up by the roots and plant them 
 in the sea. The houses are connected by green or 
 sandy lanes with the great highway, which runs the 
 whole length of this narrow island. The people are 
 very kind. Taking not two meals in any one house, I 
 discovered many friends. Where I found cream on the 
 table, I knew that they did not sell their hospitality. 
 The skim-milk people had a price. 
 
 Toward nightfall, I found myself in a little neighbor- 
 
204 SANDY POINT. 
 
 hood with. several herring ponds in the vicinity. These 
 ponds are mainly useful in keeping up the supply of 
 mosquitos. Enough are raised here within a few acres 
 to stock the island as far as they can fly. Knowing 
 that the season was not quite over, I picked out a 
 house with green blinds ; and thought I would apply 
 there for lodging, hoping that the window shields would 
 defend me in the hours of slumber. The man of 
 the house, at work in his garden, gave me a hearty 
 welcome. I spent a delightful evening, chatting with 
 the pleasant family. But I was tucked into a, back 
 attic to sleep, where I ran my head into the cobwebs 
 in the night ; and the one window had no blind. All 
 the mosquitos from five herring ponds gave a free con 
 cert in my chamber; and opened a free market for 
 supplying themselves with raw meat at my expense. 
 I was completely demoralized. 
 
 Fifth day. This morning, before parting with the 
 good people of the house, my hostess confessed that 
 when she came home last evening, and found that her 
 husband had given me lodging, she was considerably 
 alarmed. She had read about men, who roamed up 
 and down the earth to rob homes and murder the inno 
 cent. She could not find out that I lived anywhere. I 
 had been a wanderer in distant and uncouth parts of 
 the world. I was walking down the "back-side" of 
 the island, where nobody ever walked who was sane 
 and holy. Her husband had money in the house. She 
 had worried about it many a night. And when she saw 
 
SANDY POINT. 205 
 
 me with my wicked beard, a homeless straggler in un 
 canny places, she felt satisfied that I was the man des 
 tined to figure in the annals of crime, as having mur 
 dered a household at the Herring Ponds for the sake 
 of an old stocking half full of coin. But the good 
 woman thought better of it, she said, when I took out 
 my pocket Testament and suggested having devotions 
 with the family before I retired. She had, however, 
 made her arrangements to feed me out to the mos- 
 quitos before morning ; and she could not in a moment 
 make up her mind to disappoint her tuneful neighbors, 
 or to disturb her nice spare bed. 
 
 Mem: Wear clerical clothes, use razor and shears, 
 walk in the roads where common people do, and sleep 
 in the guest chamber. By so doing, life will be tame 
 and comfortable, and the blood of a highwayman will 
 never be sucked out of your veins by fiends of the air 
 invoked to defend the helpless. 
 
 These herring ponds are very beautiful in the morn 
 ing light. Many of the low hills, which encircle them, 
 are clad with pines, perhaps twenty feet high. The 
 woods are clear of undergrowth. A long walk through 
 the timber discovers oaks draped with hanging mosses. 
 Sometimes the trunks and limbs of dark pines are 
 almost completely covered with white tufts of moss. 
 The most diminutive trees thus appear hoary with age. 
 The winding way I follow leads now and then over a 
 hill top, where the view is very extensive. The country 
 is well wooded, oak and pine, with vast tracts of beech 
 on the shore the leafless sand beach. 
 
206 OLD HARBOR. 
 
 XVIII. 
 OLD HARBOR. 
 
 SIXTH DAY. I find many of the traveled roads 
 here as weary walking as the soft beach; and 
 inland I march without the music of the waves. 
 An invigorating sea breeze, however, tempers the air, 
 and it is a delight to live. When the stage overtook 
 me this morning, I climbed to a seat beside the driver 
 and an old man-of-war s man. 
 
 "Where have you been cruising this week?" asked 
 Jack. 
 
 "Where are you bound?" asked Jehu. 
 
 These questions being answered, I began to look, 
 and to question. Jack wore the navy suit ; and every 
 wrinkle and every motion spoke of the sea. He had 
 rocked on the waves from early childhood. His home 
 was lonesome. His companions were in ships. On 
 his last voyage homeward bound he sighted his brother 
 upon an outward bound Australian clipper in the South 
 Atlantic. As the commanders exchanged a word with 
 trumpets, the brothers waved their tarpaulins to each 
 other; and they would not now meet again for years, 
 as they had not met before for many a year. The 
 
OLD HARBOR. 207 
 
 driver persisted that the water was "too wet" for him 
 to go to sea; but the old salt hoped to die on the 
 waves as his father and grandfather had died on ship 
 board and been buried in the deep. Within an hour, 
 Jack asked Jehu to anchor in front of a minute white 
 cottage. Straightway two stout young women came 
 out, and greeted their father. Their mother had died 
 two months since ; their husbands were both at sea. 
 
 I was left alone with the driver. He proved quaint 
 enough, with an unlimited capacity for spinning sailor- 
 yarn; though many of the yarns he unreeled for me 
 were too rotten to hold together and I lost confidence 
 in him. His horses, he said, ate and drank from the 
 trough of the sea ; this accounted for the peculiar gait 
 of the off leader, and the occasional swaggering steps 
 of the nigh wheel horse. They have their sea legs on. 
 Once Jehu drove, as he said, rather a stylish hack 
 in the metropolis of Sandy Point; and a smart seaman, 
 not bred in these parts, came off from the ship to take 
 a day s ride in the country. The close carriage was 
 chartered. The sailor mounted the box with the driv 
 er. As they were starting, a man came along who 
 wanted to go up into the country, and offered to pay 
 half the cost if he could be taken on board. 
 
 "If you will ride in the hold," said the sailor, "you 
 can go for nothing; but you can t come on deck." 
 
 The stranger stowed himself in the hold ; and Jack 
 was master of the quarter deck. 
 
 I found a never ceasing interest in the homes we 
 passed. Little hamlets on the "inside" of the island, 
 
208 OLD HARBOR. 
 
 where most of the people lived, have for front yards 
 mere patches of beach fenced in, sand and beach 
 grass and sea shells. It was not uncommon to find 
 gardens fenced in by fish seines: this twine fence is 
 taken under cover in winter, is easily fastened to the 
 posts, is hen-proof, and hog-proof, and will last for so 
 many years that it is called cheaper than lumber. 
 The planks leading to the front doors are often from 
 some old wreck. Heaps of clam shells about the back 
 door, show that the "treasures hid in the sand" do 
 much toward sustaining the population. " All seas are 
 our cellars," said Martin Luther. The Sandy Point 
 people drop a line into their cellars, and then " suck of 
 the abundance of the seas." I did not see big barns 
 and mowing machines and patent reapers ; but har 
 poon, hook, line, bob and sinker, trawl, seine, lobster 
 nets and clam forks, all manner of gear for gathering 
 the harvests of the deep. Accustomed as the people 
 are to the sight of wrecks, they seem sometimes a little 
 hard in the uses they make of these relics of the unfor 
 tunate. I saw the steel ribs of eight ironclads flying in 
 the air for scarecrows in one corn field ; skirt hoops in 
 which the belles of Sakum Hollow had once coasted up 
 and down the Point. What has become of the fair 
 crew which once manned this formidable fleet ? 
 
 The weather is threatening this afternoon, and the 
 driver is very anxious I should see a regular north 
 easter. If I were to believe his words, I should see 
 the very pigs, lean and lank, take shingles in their 
 mouths, and beat up against the wind to gain new shel- 
 
OLD HARBOR. 209 
 
 ter, when a storm tears down some frail piggery and 
 then sweeps through the narrow streets of the Old 
 Harbor like mad. We arrived in the suburbs of Old 
 Harbor at about dark ; and made our first stop oppo 
 site a variety store, where the sign board contained, as 
 well as I could hastily count, eighty specifications of 
 groceries and ware for sale : 
 
 " Shoepegs Bait, Soaps, calicos. Putty, ribbons, axes, 
 figs. Perrfumes, castor Oil and tobacco. Snuff, bolony 
 sassages, haM. onions, Peanuts, nails, and fish 
 Hooks, salt, pickles ; Sugar : Beens ; tre nails. Anchors. 
 RaSuns Hoans. Tee, coffee cheese. butTer, Sailors 
 stores. Boat Hooks, Overhauls, fishin Boots, glass wair, 
 fethers, mustard, glass bottels, pils." and forty-one 
 more things ! 
 
 I applied for lodging at the house over the way, 
 being told it was a home for travelers. The landlord 
 was an honest old salt, who took as much pride in his 
 house as if it had been a ship s cabin. But his heart 
 was always at sea, and his words would never get used 
 to the land. He spoke of his guests as making a 
 voyage with him ; and said he had as many passengers 
 on board as he had berths for. He described to me a 
 house a little further on, where an aged ship master 
 would entertain me; going with me to the door-step, 
 and looking down the street, he made a motion with 
 his hand, as if he was throwing bait overboard, and 
 said, 
 
 " Go to the starboard, and take to the seaboard, and 
 you ll fetch it." 
 
210 OLD HARBOR. 
 
 I found my host wifeless and childless, with a 
 niece for his housekeeper. As the night set in, the 
 wind increased, and thick clouds made the darkness 
 very dense. The sound of the rising gale made the old 
 man uneasy ; and as its violence increased, the drowsi 
 ness with which he began the evening gave place to 
 wakeful watching ; he would go often to the windows, 
 next the sea, look and listen, and then walk the 
 floor, then be seated and lean back against the wall, 
 then rise and walk again to the window, then again 
 move slowly around the room. Seeing that I was not 
 likely to make him sleepless by any talk of mine, I 
 began after a time to draw him out. 
 
 "I love," said I, "to hear the wind roar on dark 
 nights, when it shakes the houses and stirs up the sea." 
 
 " I have heard gales and hurricanes enough in my 
 day," he answered. 
 
 Little by little, he forgot the high wind raging out 
 side, in living over again the storms of earlier years. 
 On his cruise as master, a heavy blow found him close 
 to the Florida coast in the night. It was pitch dark, 
 and he was almost on the reefs ; when a flash of light 
 ning showed him a very narrow opening in the reef just 
 before him, into which he dashed, and in a moment 
 was in quiet water. He had pitched about in the 
 region of Cape Horn, in waves running so high that 
 when he was standing on the quarter-deck and the 
 bow was diving into the hollow of the sea, he could see 
 the crest of the next wave by looking over the top of 
 .the foreyard. A ship only a little distance from him 
 
OLD HARBOR. 211 
 
 could not be seen, as they sank into the depths and 
 the mountain billows rose between them. He lay in a 
 storm twenty-four hours with his vessel half thrown 
 upon her beam-ends, weighted down by the water on 
 one side the clipper s deck, the masts presenting an 
 angle of forty-five degrees. 
 
 The captain thought he became a Christian, upon 
 one night, when he was wrecked on a little island near 
 the Gulf of St. Lawrence in dead of winter. He was 
 washed up and down the rocks three or four times by 
 the waves, like clothes on a scrubbing-board. In this 
 moment all the deeds of his life flashed before him, 
 and he then yielded his heart to God, standing by his 
 resolution in after years. When thrown high up from 
 the sea, he had just sense enough left to crawl away 
 from the water. Several of the crew were washed upon 
 the rocks and escaped alive. 
 
 They found four feet of snow on shore. Crawling 
 into a barn they tried to warm themselves in the hay. 
 The mate went to search for a house; and seeing a 
 light they all made for it. The lone woman in the hut 
 was loath to let them in ; but such hospitality as she 
 had she gave, a scanty fire, and hemlock tea, and 
 dried herring. At daybreak a party of wreckers came 
 in, and demanded that the captain give them all the 
 spoils of the ship, as the price of any assistance from 
 them. This he refused ; they went to the shore ; and 
 so completely was the ship stove on the rocks, that no 
 fragment of the wreck was found more than six feet 
 long. One shovel had been thrown high on the rocks ; 
 
212 OLD HARBOR. 
 
 and with it the crew buried two bodies of their com 
 panions : then the tool was stolen by one of the wreck 
 ers. They found six pounds of salt beef; and this was 
 also stolen. A piece of sail large enough for a pair of 
 overalls for each seaman was all that was saved. 
 
 The wreckers looked hard upon these men snatched 
 from the sea; but one fellow, whose eye had some 
 kindness still lingering in it, persuaded his comrades to 
 give quarters to the wrecked mariners: and two and 
 two were parcelled out to different homes, till the 
 weather should allow setting them over to another 
 island in the common track of shipping. The storm 
 raged for two weeks. Hemlock tea and dried herring 
 was all that could be obtained on the island. One 
 woman had a pound of sea-biscuit, which she had 
 stored up against a time of great distress, but only one 
 taste of this bread did the captain get by special bounty. 
 After knocking about from one island to another, the 
 crew at last reached home. But on the home passage, 
 two ships sailed in company : and in the hour of storm 
 our captain persuaded him with whom he sailed, to take 
 a certain course, diverging from that of the other 
 vessel; and though they reached port in safety, their 
 companion was never again heard from. The very 
 morning of the day the captain reached home, his wife 
 heard of the wreck ; at noon she received a letter an 
 nouncing his safety ; and before night, he approached 
 the window where she sat reading the letter. 
 
 Such experiences made the old man sick at heart, 
 when he heard the roar of the ocean in the hour of 
 
OLD HARBOR. 213 
 
 tempest. So, too, the widows of shipwrecked mariners 
 do not love the sight or the sound of the sea. Old 
 Harbor had suffered severely the former winter by the 
 sweeping off of fishing vessels by the score. Six mem 
 bers of one family were lost in one gale. The crash of 
 wrecks is a sound familiar. Every year or two, some 
 heavily laden ship is broken up on the backside of the 
 Point, and sometimes three or four score bodies are 
 found on the beach after a storm. 
 
 When I retired to my chamber that night, a rough 
 room unplastered, 1 found pasted upon the window 
 casing these lines, cut from a newspaper, an extract 
 from a book of poems. Upon the smooth casing 
 above was written, with a pencil, in a trembling hand 
 this heading, 
 
 "A CHILDLESS OLD MAN BY THE SIDE OF THE SEA." 
 
 " There was a poor old man 
 Who sat and listened to the raging sea, 
 And heard it thunder, lunging at the cliffs 
 As like to tear them down. He lay at night, 
 And, Lord have mercy on the lads ! said he, 
 That sailed at noon, though they be none of mine ; 
 For when the gale gets up, and when the wind 
 Flings at the window, when it beats the roof, 
 And lulls and stops, and rouses up again, 
 And cuts the crest clean off the plunging wave, 
 And scatters it like feathers up the fields, 
 Why then I think of my two lads ; my lads 
 That would have worked and never let me want, 
 And never let me take the parish pay. 
 
214 OLD HARBOR. 
 
 No, none of mine ; my lads were drowned at sea, 
 
 My two before the most of these were born. 
 
 I know how sharp that cuts, since my poor wife 
 
 Walked up and down, and still walked up and down, 
 
 And I walked after ; and one could not hear 
 
 A word the other said, for wind and sea, 
 
 That raged and beat and thundered in the night, 
 
 The awfulest, the longest, lightest night 
 
 That ever parents had to spend a moon 
 
 That shone like daylight on the breaking wave. 
 
 Ah me ! and other men have lost their lads, 
 
 And other women wiped their poor dead mouths. 
 
 " Ay, I was strong 
 
 And able-bodied loved my work ; but now 
 I am a useless hull ; t is time I sunk ; 
 I am in all men s way ; I trouble them ; 
 I am a trouble to myself: but yet 
 I feel for mariners of stormy nights, 
 And feel for wives that watch ashore. Ay, ay, 
 If I had learning I would pray the Lord 
 To bring them in : but I m no scholar, no ; 
 Book-learning is a world too hard for me : 
 But I make bold to say, O Lord, good Lord, 
 I am a broken-down poor man, a fool 
 To speak to Thee : but in the book t is writ, 
 As I hear say from others that can read, 
 How, when Thou earnest, Thou didst love the sea, 
 And live with fisher folk ; whereby t is said, 
 Thou knowest all the peril they go through, 
 And all their trouble. As for me, good Lord, 
 I have no boat ; I am too old, too old 
 My lads are drowned ; I buried my poor wife ; 
 My little lasses died so long ago 
 That mostly I forget what they were like. 
 Thou knowest, Lord, they were such little ones. 
 
OLD HARBOR. 215 
 
 I know they went to Thee, but I forget 
 Their faces, though I missed them sore. 
 
 O Lord, 
 
 I was a strong man I have drawn good food 
 And made good money out of Thy great sea 
 But yet I cried for them at nights ; and now 
 Although I be so old, I miss my lads. 
 And there be many folk this stormy night 
 Heavy with fear for theirs. Merciful Lord, 
 Comfort them ! Save their honest boys, their pride, 
 And let them hear, next ebb, the blessedest 
 Best sound the boat keels grating on the sand. 
 But Lord, I am a trouble ! and I sit 
 And I am lonesome, and the nights are few 
 That any think to come and draw a chair, 
 And sit in my poor place and talk awhile. 
 Why should they come, forsooth ! Only the wind 
 Knocks at my door, O long and loud it knocks, 
 The only thing God made that has a mind 
 To enter in. 
 
 " Yea thus the old man spake, 
 These were the last words of his aged mouth, 
 BUT ONE DID KNOCK. One came to sup with him, 
 That humble, weak old man ! knocked at his door 
 In the rough pauses of the laboring wind. 
 
 " What He said 
 
 In that poor place where He did talk awhile, 
 I cannot tell : but this I am assured, 
 That when the neighbors came the morrow morn, 
 What time the wind had bated, and the sun 
 Shone on the old man s floor, they saw the smile 
 He passed away in, and they said, He looks 
 As he had woke and seen the face of Christ ; 
 And with that rapturous smile held out his arms 
 To come to Him. 
 
2l6 OLD HARBOR. 
 
 " Can such a one be here ? 
 So old, so weak, so ignorant, so frail, 
 The Lord be good to thee, thou poor old man ; 
 It would be hard with thee if heaven were shut 
 To such as have not learning. Nay, nay, nay, 
 He condescends to them of low estate : 
 To such as are despised He cometh down, 
 Stands at the door and knocks." * 
 
 Next morning, which was Sunday, the young house 
 keeper told me that her uncle had some years before 
 lost his only children, two vigorous young men, in a 
 storm off this coast. They perished on a ledge a little 
 out of the harbor, in full sight from my chamber win 
 dow. And an easy chair by this window was the old 
 man s observatory, where he spent hours together of 
 daylight, looking out upon the deep, in quiet hours 
 when the picture is very beautiful, and in days of wild 
 storm ; but he sees little else than that fatal rock. 
 When I learned that the spot is commonly called, " the 
 Deadman s Ledge," it was some weeks before I could 
 look down the harbor without half shuddering. 
 
 This young woman s grandfather, the father also of 
 my host, led a hard life in the way of sea-faring adven 
 ture. He was one of a crew of seven, who lost sails, 
 bowsprit and rudder on the Georges Banks in early 
 winter; and then floated upon the Atlantic two hun 
 dred sixty-one days. They had only a week s pro 
 visions, and one barrel of water ; but lived upon what 
 
 * Jean Ingelow, Poems : "Brothers and a Sermon. 1 
 
OLD HARBOR. 217 
 
 fish they caught, and such sustenance as they could get 
 from a quantity of chocolate and rum on board. They 
 cut away all their upper works for fuel. Rain water 
 offered them drink, but they were at one time without 
 water for three weeks : two died of thirst. During all 
 this time they saw only two vessels. A few days before 
 they were taken off, they caught a rat, which seemed 
 the sweetest morsel that ever passed the lips of five 
 starving men. They were then rescued by the ship of 
 an enemy, the country being then at war. The British 
 captain took them into New York harbor and gave 
 them a boat to make their way home. 
 
 " My grandfather s body lies in the graveyard back 
 of the house," said Huldah. " Perhaps you would like 
 to go there." 
 
 Before church service, I went to the burial hill; 
 where the sleepers could still hear the sea roar, if their 
 ears were not heavy. The mariner had died a little 
 past middle life ; and this was his epitaph, 
 
 " Though Boreas blast and Neptune s waves, 
 
 Have tossed me to and fro, 
 
 In spite of both, by God s decree, 
 
 I harbor here below. 
 
 Now here at anchor do I lie, 
 With many of our fleet, 
 In hope again for to set sail, 
 My Saviour Christ to meet." 
 
 I saw one monument, upon the very height of the 
 hill, which bore the names of seventy-eight Old Harbor 
 
21 8 OLD HARBOR. 
 
 men, who had perished in one gale on the fishing 
 banks forty years ago. 
 
 The wind is still blowing wildly this morning, a dry 
 gale, rilling the air with sand and producing general 
 discomfort. Coming down from the grave yard, I 
 walked through the town. Near the corner, where the 
 little custom house stands, I saw a Sandy Point fisher 
 man navigating the streets against a heavy head wind. 
 
 He was laden with his wife s new bonnet, stowed in 
 a bandbox, evidently taken from a house near by, 
 where I saw a small milliner s sign tacked on the cor 
 ner. His wife was going to church with new head gear 
 that day. Walking behind him were three young 
 ladies, a gentleman, and one who seemed to be a con 
 stable or some such dignitary. Jack had his hat 
 pulled over his eyes, and his head bowed, to keep the 
 cold wind and sand from cutting his face ; and he was 
 "tacking" this way and that, crossing and recrossing 
 the narrow way, keeping no watch out for breakers. 
 When close in front of me, he ran foul of a stone post; 
 and he was under such headway that the post smashed 
 the bandbox, and knocked him down. His heels, fly 
 ing in the air, struck one of the ladies in the pit of the 
 stomach, felling her to the ground. The constable 
 interfered ; and was about carrying him to the lockup 
 for being half seas over: but the sailor convinced the 
 official that he was merely "beating" in a storm. 
 Getting under the lee of an alleyway, I helped him 
 examine his cargo. The cover of the bandbox was 
 carried away in the gale; but after taking off the 
 
OLD HARBOR. 219 
 
 wrapping papers, the duck of a bonnet was found safe. 
 Going into church, half an hour after, I saw Jack in 
 a corner of the entry telling the yarn with great gusto. 
 I must confess that as I stood by the stove, I had the 
 curiosity to look about the meeting house a little, to 
 see whether the bonnet had come to church ; but I did 
 not recognize it, though I saw a good many which 
 looked as if they had been badly smashed in some 
 former period of the world s history. 
 
220 AMONG THE ISLANDS. 
 
 XIX. 
 AMONG THE ISLANDS. 
 
 IN a recent visit to Sandy Point to converse with 
 Cephas old parishioners, I found that almost 
 every man spoke of him as one who loved to be 
 much alone. The walk upon the Long Beach de- 
 cribed in preceding chapter, indicates the way in 
 which Cephas spent no small part of the time during 
 his brief Sandy Point pastorate. But there was a pur 
 pose in it : 
 
 " The beach is a closet, and the doors are shut about 
 me. Locked between land and sea I pray for personal 
 privity, for long hours in the study, and for invalids 
 who cannot reach the life-giving sea." 
 
 " Sometimes I go upon the beach at low tide at 
 nightfall, in a time of dense fog and heavy sea; and 
 step into the edge of the waters so far as to get a full 
 view of the rise and curl and breaking of the waves. 
 The bare reach of sand behind, and the fog concealing 
 so much on either side yet revealing so much on the 
 side next the sea where the white waves are swiftly 
 advancing with high crests and heavy fall and deafen 
 ing roar, give a sense of solitude and the nearness of 
 
AMONG THE ISLANDS. 221 
 
 Infinite and overwhelming Power, as if the world un 
 seen had opened and one were standing alone in the 
 great Presence. The soul of the devout man is aided 
 by such surroundings in making an entire surrender of 
 himself to God ; and his prayers are quickened by a 
 more perfect sense of being alone than one easily gets 
 in a common closet." 
 
 A whooping-crane now stands upon a pedestal in my 
 study ; which Cephas procured at Sandy Point and pre 
 sented to me. This dead and stuffed form was once a 
 living preacher. He used to stand in a marsh, and 
 harangue a multitude of his fellow-cranes by the hour ; 
 after hearing him a little while they would give assent 
 by a general outcry, and then he would go on again. 
 At the time he lost his life, the noisy crowd had gath 
 ered to go south, filling the air with deafening clangor, 
 like an army uttering a confused cry. 
 
 " Unless rich spiritual gifts are yours," says Cephas 
 letter with this gift, " you have little more dignity than 
 an eloquent crane." 
 
 Cephas did not spend his time at the seaside in 
 merely wading into the water like a crane, or stand 
 idling first on one leg and then on the other with 
 an eye out constantly for a good dinner. 
 
 As his health improved, Cephas took up new work 
 among the islands of the Nuntundale Archipelago, to 
 the eastward of the Island Home. I once accompa 
 nied him in his parochial round. Any reader who 
 loves to linger by the sea, will be glad to wander with 
 
222 AMONG THE ISLANDS. 
 
 me a few pages in visiting the pleasantest home 
 Cephas ever occupied, a home in flitting like a bird 
 from one rocky isle to another, never weary of the 
 sound of the surf and the sight of the sparkling waters. 
 I have little hope, however, of reproducing the vision 
 which so attracted me ; and my homely notes can be of 
 little use, unless by them some one may be led to see 
 these islands for himself. 
 
 Upon our first Sabbath in a village of four thousand 
 inhabitants, I looked about to find a church spire ; but 
 the masts in the harbor were the only spires I saw. 
 The meeting-house, was very much like an enormous 
 barn, shingled on the sides to make it warmer than 
 clapboards could. Inside, we found things as they had 
 been for a hundred years save that the unused gal 
 leries were now boarded up ; the floor rising toward 
 the back ; the seats solid, venerable, impressive ; and 
 truncated pyramids on each side the reading-desk to 
 support the lamps. 
 
 Upon Monday, we made a trip through an immense 
 extent of low pines : thence across a prairie country in 
 the heart of the island flat as a floor and out of sight of 
 the sea; then followed the eastern beach for some 
 miles, part of the way under a bank a hundred feet 
 high. Next, turning north toward the mouth of the 
 port, we followed a strip of marsh, a few rods wide and 
 nine miles long, which separates the harbor from the 
 ocean. This low green wall rising just above water 
 line, like the belt of a Pacific lagoon, is a very cheery 
 walk by wild or calm water. 
 
AMONG THE ISLANDS. 223 
 
 The people on this island seemed to me more 
 friendly on short acquaintance, than any I ever met 
 elsewhere. Business, by which many had become rich, 
 had gone into decay ; and there was an appearance of 
 leisure on the part of the whole population. Their 
 kindness, and confidence in human nature, seemed sur 
 prising. A boy would leave his play and go some 
 squares to show a traveler upon his way. A store 
 keeper left his shop, and went a long distance with me 
 to point out where a man lived. My friend who wanted 
 to visit the museum, was astonished to hear the town- 
 crier ringing his bell in the streets, and calling out for 
 the janitor to wait on the stranger. 
 
 Isolated as they are, the people all know each other, 
 and every new face is marked. No rascality can be 
 cut up on the island, without its being known at once 
 who did it; and no one can slip away without being 
 missed. Men of bad habits are sent off. Entering 
 the open door of a candy, cake, and tea establishment, 
 I found no keeper. After considerable time he ap 
 peared, having been absent watching with a sick man. 
 In another shop, in the evening, after I had waited 
 some time, a boy came in from a neighboring house to 
 see what I wanted to buy. I told Cephas that he 
 would do more good in trying to get people to emigrate 
 to this happy island, than he would by preaching to 
 persons living there. 
 
 Our passage to the small islands in the north was 
 marred by sickness, so severe as to lead me to have great 
 respect for that theory which pronounces the whole 
 
224 AMONG THE ISLANDS. 
 
 Atlantic ocean one vast dose of ipecac ; and I sympa 
 thized heartily with the Yankee minister who " vomited 
 one-eighth of the way round the world on a pleasure 
 trip." I was much struck by the singular appearance 
 of some of the islets we passed. There was one island 
 about forty feet long, with overhanging cliffs at each 
 end, and two trees growing upon it like masts with full 
 sail; it was called Schooner Island. Not far from it 
 two sharp ears of granite rose out of the water, nearly 
 fifty feet high ; as if some gigantic Jack had gone down 
 there leaving his ears standing for fishermen to steer 
 by. In approaching our destined port the shores were 
 very bold; usually forty feet high, perpendicular or 
 overhanging the water. Turning the point to make the 
 harbor, a large sized tree was discovered jutting out 
 like a bowsprit from the lean soil on the verge of the 
 rocks; in its youth partially overturned by a storm, 
 now firmly rooted and holding its place in the very 
 track of the tempests. 
 
 The cleavage of the rocks is such as to afford re 
 markable seats arranged all along trie waterside ; as if 
 the islands were so many amphitheatres for inviting 
 spectators to witness the play of the waves and their 
 fierce battle. Ordinary tides make as much surf on 
 these islands as ordinary storms do on the mainland : 
 and when long gales have stirred up the sea, the shock 
 of the waves seems to threaten the stability of the 
 rocky shores, the spray dashing completely over the 
 few roods of soil. 
 
AMONG THE ISLANDS. 225 
 
 " They come they mount they charge in vain, 
 
 Thus far, incalculable main ! 
 
 No more ! Thine hosts have not o erthrown 
 
 The lichen on the barrier stone. 
 
 Have the rocks faith that thus they stand 
 
 Unmoved, a grim and stately band, 
 
 And look like warriors tried and brave, 
 
 Stern, silent, reckless, o er the wave ? " 
 
 In little hollows made rich by decaying rock, deep 
 dyed flowers flourish. Patches of garden show where 
 the families of seamen are anchored, while the men 
 themselves ride the high seas. The bits of granite, 
 which compose the archipelago, seem to have been 
 dropped into the sea that sailors might breed upon 
 them, like gulls, conveniently near the water. The 
 old salts about here have been "pickled in the brine 
 from birth." 
 
 "The moist waves of the sea they sailed," 
 
 early and late. Here was one who began as a boy and 
 followed the sea more than forty years, twenty-nine 
 upon the quarter deck ; his keel made miles enough to 
 circle the globe forty-seven times, with sixteen thou 
 sand knots thrown in for a pleasure excursion. There 
 was a time when one person out of every twelve in 
 these islands was master of a ship. These dwellers 
 in the ocean always see, passing by their doors, ships 
 sailing to the uttermost parts of the globe. And these 
 winged heralds are always calling to the men on land, 
 morning, noonday, or evening, telling them to be great 
 9 
 
226 AMONG THE ISLANDS. 
 
 hearted, and to sympathize with humanity upon every 
 shore. By the swift ships they send greeting to all 
 the globe. 
 
 I went into the little school-house, to see what the 
 children saw. From every window, they could see the 
 ships going upon their errands, or there was a view of 
 the distant main. It was much like looking out from a 
 cabin or forecastle. The teacher said that he felt as if 
 he was living on a large ship, anchored with a fleet in 
 mid ocean : so present was the peculiar scenery of the 
 sea. 
 
 Staying on such land as this is like a voyage, with 
 every breeze salted. Life here is a perpetual camping 
 out ; one has apparently nothing to do but sit upon the 
 rocks and thrive in the even temperature. The waves 
 cool the air all summer, and warm the shores all winter. 
 And the daylight is longer than on the mainland, for 
 the sea is like a mirror, catching upon its vast reflect 
 ing surface the first beams of day, and lighting up the 
 atmosphere long after sunset. Evening after evening, 
 we were lying upon the shelves of the rocks toward 
 the west, far into the night; it seemed as if the day 
 would never fade. Morning after morning, I rose to 
 climb the highest headlands at daybreak ; thinking I 
 might 
 
 " Have sight of Proteus rising from the sea, 
 Or hear old Triton blow his wreathed horn." 
 
 My mind is full of pleasant pictures of the rising sun, 
 glancing upon many waters, and touching the white 
 
AMONG THE ISLANDS. 227 
 
 foam that breaks on many a shining shore. All day 
 long, the sunbeams were playing on the quiet deep, 
 and the waters were dancing about the rocks of green 
 isles and desolate reefs. And when I am told of any 
 earthly beauty, I think of that native of one of the 
 Greek islands, who in the vale of Tempe was asked to 
 praise its beauty; but he looked about and said, 
 "The sea, where is it?" 
 
 The islanders told me that upon each Sabbath the 
 words of their pastor were as if he had come from the 
 very presence of God, that he might lead them with 
 loving hand to One whom he loved with a passion of 
 devotion. And that in his ordinary meetings with the 
 fishermen and their families, his warm hand and kind 
 words seemed to proceed from a hidden life. They 
 took knowledge of him that he had been with Jesus. 
 
 Cephas once gave me some account of an old man, 
 who had been pastor among these islands during half 
 a century. He was too infirm to frequent the sanctu 
 ary, but not too old to pray among the crags. Cephas 
 found Father Kent one sunny day under the lee of a 
 great rock upon a high headland; his attention was 
 arrested by hearing his own name mentioned in inter 
 cession by the trembling voice of the aged man. 
 Without discovering himself to the devotee, Cephas 
 contrived to fall into his company when he saw him 
 slowly picking his steps towards home. 
 
 "Good, morning, Father." 
 
 " A fair day, my son." 
 
228 AMONG THE ISLANDS. 
 
 "Is the day fair with you ? " 
 
 "It is always fair, if I can do as I used to do; if I 
 can get into the pines yonder to pray, or come up to 
 weep before God under the lee of this head." 
 
 " I hope that you always pray for the old church and 
 the new minister." 
 
 " I do, my son. I pray that you may pray. By two 
 hours of prayer you will come to more understanding 
 than by all day work in your study without it. God 
 will not leave you to think time wasted spent in His 
 company. Let other men seek books, do you cleave 
 fast to the unseen God. The best boon in life is to 
 gain * that light which being compared with the light is 
 found before it, more beautiful than the sun, and above 
 all the orders of the stars. " 
 
 I have tried hard to locate the Rock of Intercession, 
 as I found it alluded to in Cephas papers. It is upon 
 one of the islands in the Nuntundale archipelago. I 
 cannot tell for a certainty upon which island it is, 
 though I have w r ithin two years searched for it. I am 
 not sure that I have seen it. It appears to have been 
 an abrupt ledge of great height near a village, with a 
 secluded vale upon at least one side of it ; from its top 
 a fair vision by day of moving tide, bending treetops, 
 outcropping peaks of granite, and in the night a sense 
 of great nearness to the stars and a perfect isolation, 
 as if there were no houses near it and no passers by 
 in the roadway under its foot. 
 
 It was upon this Rock in the night time, as I con- 
 
AMONG THE ISLANDS. 229 
 
 elude from his manuscripts, that Cephas consecrated 
 himself in a peculiar manner to a life of intercession. 
 Here the Shagbark was devoted to a new use, not only 
 for a life of prayer but primarily prayer for others. 
 This peaked Rock and the vale hard by bore witness 
 to the fulfilment of the midnight vows. It cannot be 
 so properly said that this was the formation of any new 
 habit on his part, as that it was an era in which he 
 brought to the very front that which had entered 
 largely into his life in former years. 
 
 Once when Cephas with heavy blankets spent the en 
 tire night upon the Rock of Intercession, he fell asleep 
 in the small hours and dreamed of the dead Helen. 
 In her glorified form she stood at his side, and touched 
 him, saying, "Arise, and pray for the dark popula 
 tions, who do not see Christ the Light." And, after 
 that, he led a new life, in respect to world-wide prayers : 
 this touch of the angel hand giving new impulse to his 
 intercession for those whom he had little hope of reach 
 ing by personal ministry. 
 
 Sometimes, as the Island pastor was pacing lonely 
 beaches or looking out from some rough rocky castle 
 on the brink of the sea, he was startled by the cry of 
 the loon, floating like an air bubble upon the uneasy 
 waves; and he always remembered the Indian supersti 
 tion, that this weird voice is the cry of a lost soul. 
 But his mind dwelt less on future spiritual disaster, 
 than upon the present loss of power and privilege. 
 He had faith that prayer was a true missionary power 
 in the world, coupled, as it always must be, with care- 
 
230 AMONG THE ISLANDS. 
 
 ful devising to set on foot moral movements, which will 
 affect distant continents and the lone isles of far-off 
 seas. He delighted to take a map, and spread it out 
 before the Lord. 
 
 " We often speak of seas, streams, mountains, for 
 ests," wrote Cephas, "but the ragged outlines of the 
 continents, and the myriad isles of the earth are 
 also full of beauty. I love the map; to look at the 
 world as a whole, as if an apple in my hand, or spread 
 out as a picture before my eyes. If I open the map 
 upon a hill top, I remember what I have read about 
 these countries, and love to look on the world as 
 my parish ; I especially remember the words of proph 
 ecy and pray for the reign of Christ in every land. 
 
 "I ask blessing for all who dwell near the great 
 mountain ranges of the world, the dwellers on the flat 
 plains in the center of continents ; and those who live 
 in wide river valleys, or by the sea, and those who ride 
 the waves. I would pray eagerly for the dense popula 
 tions of cities ; but more especially for neglected lands 
 where men are few and savage, for whom few prayers 
 are made. Where the millions gather there is the spot 
 for establishing God s kingdom ; but He also loves the 
 solitudes of the world. There is no favorite place with 
 Him. New Zealand and South Africa are dear to the 
 heart of Christ as Olivet and Gethsemane. Alaska 
 and Australia, Pekin and Timbuctoo are as precious as 
 Nazareth and Nain. Our God made the whole round 
 world ; and He loves Greenland, Labrador, Siberia and 
 Patagonia. He has purposes of mercy for all. Every 
 
AMONG THE ISLANDS. 231 
 
 part of the world s map will one day be marked with 
 white ; and the banner of Christ will rise on every peak 
 of the Andes, and by every wild stream in the deep 
 forests of Brazil, and amid the deserts of Africa and on 
 the wild steppes of Asia. The Turkoman rides over 
 soil that belongs to Christ. Christian churches will 
 rise in every Chinese village, and amid the heated 
 homes of India, and on the cool sides of the Hima 
 laya." 
 
 "Thou art sore troubled in mind for Israel s sake," 
 said the Lord to Esdras : " Lovest thou that people 
 better than He that made them ?" Cephas prayed, not 
 because he had any fear that the Lord did not love 
 men better than he did : but he would fain talk with 
 his Father about all the works of His hands, and live 
 intimately with Him according to the Scripture ideal. 
 And he heard a Voice saying, " Concerning the works 
 of my hands, command ye me;" and "I will be in 
 quired of to do it for them." It was because the Lord 
 loved men, that Cephas prayed for them. 
 
 Often in the winter he found shelter from the wind 
 upon the sunny verandas of summer houses close to 
 the sea. And these floors witnessed the prayers of a 
 prostrate man, pleading for the multitudes wherever 
 they are settled upon fragments of land washed by the 
 great world of waters. 
 
 "Oh, ye dwellers by the sea," said he who rose 
 before the daybreak, " I will tell you how to redeem the 
 time. After eight or nine hours sleep in a winter 
 night, rise at six, go by starlight to the lonely beach at 
 
232 AMONG THE ISLANDS. 
 
 low tide ; and, if the air is still and not too keen, pace 
 up and down the smooth frozen sand, and wait for the 
 full sunrise. There is a freshness and beauty in the 
 sky and on the sea and the shore, such as is never seen 
 at any other season, hour or place. The hard and 
 level floor of sand banked behind by bulwarks of ice 
 and snow, the strange coloring on the water, and the 
 glow of the morning clouds and light, seem to suggest 
 another country from what is seen by night or full day 
 light or under the setting sun. It is a world by itself. 
 It is not night nor common day ; but a season strange 
 as if upon another planet. It is a rare hour in a whole 
 lifetime; like a morning of spiritual communion with 
 another and better world. It is in such a closet, that I 
 give up all my care to God, and render thanksgiving. 
 So is my morning hour like a holy day, before I begin 
 my common day s work." 
 
 " I often go to the shore of the ocean in winter ; 
 when the water is smoking like the plains of battle. 
 The air is very cold, and the warm sea sends up clouds 
 of vapor. Some of the tongues of mist are almost 
 flame-like, in the light of the low winter sun. When it 
 is so cold that my breath steams like an engine, I 
 sometimes find that the surf-line has entirely disap 
 peared under a thin coating of ice, which covers the 
 shallow water all along the coast. The whole surface 
 of the sea is level as a floor ; and the heat of the water 
 makes the northwest wind smoke wherever it dips into 
 the deep. The vapor goes whirling like loose snow 
 drifting over an ice floe, with the blue pavement seen 
 
AMONG THE ISLANDS. 233 
 
 through the curling white mist. Far at sea the whole 
 ocean is dense with vapor; and the topsails of a 
 schooner move along above the white cloud like an ice 
 boat before the wind. But these pictures are made 
 perfect only by the figure of him who occupies this 
 scenery as the temple of his Father, and the house of 
 prayer." 
 
234 A WALK IN THE RAIN. 
 
 XX. 
 
 A WALK IN THE RAIN. 
 
 Long Sands at York extend a mile and a 
 half ; and are six hundred feet wide at low tide, 
 -*- the widest beach on the New England coast, 
 unless it be Coffin s beach, or the north end of Old 
 Orchard. One cloudy evening, when the first quarter 
 of the moon was shining in the west, I had walked 
 half up the Long Sands ; and it was so dark that the 
 distant horns of the beach could be hardly seen. The 
 sea-wall on the left seemed very low, and dark, like 
 a distant coast. The beach was so gradual in its 
 slope, so flat, so wide, that walking midway between 
 the beach bank and the water at low tide the crests 
 of the waves rising and combing upon the sands ap 
 peared, in the dim light, to be upon a level with the 
 part of the beach where I was walking ; and, on the 
 other hand, I could see little rise in the slope of the 
 beach toward the land, so that I was, to all intents, 
 upon the level sea. The beach was very wet, as wet 
 as water ; and the moon shone upon the wet sands 
 making a path of light as if upon the sea. Away to 
 the east I could see Boone Island light, and to the 
 
A WALK IN THE RAIN. 235 
 
 southeast the Isles of Shoals light ; and on the west, in 
 land, I could see two or three lights in distant houses, 
 like lights at sea. Altogether, I had a unique sensa 
 tion ; as if walking on the sea, a coaster on foot, 
 taking a voyage upon the sands. While walking inland 
 the same night, over strange roads, I was able to keep 
 my bearing by reference to the lighthouses off the 
 coast, as I still sailed upon my sea legs over the old 
 town of York. 
 
 Very naturally, I occupied my mind in some part of 
 of this lonely walk, with thinking how differently things 
 appear to us by night from what they do by day. The 
 familiar beach had been as strange to me as if I had 
 walked upon another continent in another zone. And 
 I thought how differently the plans of youth appear to 
 us under the lights and shades of later years. Pet 
 projects, in which we were thoroughly at home, are now 
 foreign to us. And I remembered the perfect passion 
 my friend Cephas had for literary work when he was a 
 boy. He composed the most improbable and highly 
 sensational stories, and edited a boy magazine. When 
 he ought to have been at the dinner table or at play, he 
 was writing most furiously at a small light-stand in the 
 attic. Once he told me that his ideal in life was to be 
 an obscure person having a vast influence with his pen : 
 he would like to hide himself, but push out ideas into 
 the world, which should be of the greatest benefit to 
 society. That he should be personally obscure seemed 
 to me more probable than that he should fulfil the rest 
 of his ideal. 
 
236 A WALK IN THE RAIN. 
 
 I wondered whether his childish notions had not 
 wholly changed under the light of manhood. He had 
 always been reserved in talking about this in later 
 years ; and, aside from the conversations in the chap 
 ter on the Old Red Trunk and the one following it, I 
 knew little of his views on book-making. Still, in his 
 very last talk with me, he had said something indicating 
 that posthumous influence was one of the phantoms he 
 was still chasing. To a man of my mental make-up 
 this seemed a very erratic wild goose to follow j to be 
 shrinking from applause in one s lifetime, but not with 
 out hope that, goose-like, he might be of more use to 
 the world dead than alive. 
 
 When I had finished my walk, and come round again 
 to the Short Sands, I sat for awhile upon a little knoll 
 looking out upon the dark sea, listening to the heavy 
 fall of the breakers ; and there settled it that the next 
 time I should see Cephas, who was at this time labor 
 ing at Spit Head in the Archipelago, we would touch 
 bottom on this topic. 
 
 The next time I saw him, was when he stood over 
 my prostrate form, as I waked from a sound sleep, on 
 the top of Little Neck Hill in Ipswich. I had camped 
 there for the night, soldier-fashion, with a patent knap 
 sack, which readily unfolded into a bed. With blanket 
 and rubber strapped over me, I had made a very com 
 fortable night under the stars. At daybreak I saw 
 Cephas with a cane trying to kill a gnat on the wing 
 near the tip of my nose. 
 
 The first part of the night I had slept well, but was 
 
A WALK IN THE RAIN. 237 
 
 waked before midnight by the unearthly outcry of one 
 of the big oxen in the pasture with me. When I first 
 opened my eyes, I thought the heavens were all on 
 fire ; so bright were the stars, and so great the con 
 trast between waking up in a dark chamber and under 
 the blaze of so many distant suns. Meteors were fly 
 ing overhead and mosquitoes around my head, and I 
 found it difficult to go to sleep again. Just as I was 
 about to drop off, up came a fragment of moon out of 
 the sea ; and I had to lie awake at least an hour and a 
 half, watching the strange light on sea and land. 
 When the small moon had made such progress in its 
 upward journey that I felt sure it would not fall back 
 into the waves, and when the third ox had expressed 
 his indignation at being disturbed in the night by bad 
 dreams or by the pranks of goblin or fairy, and when I 
 was tired of looking for more falling stars, I fell into a 
 deep sleep, and waked to see Cephas. 
 
 " Can you sleep with all this going on before your 
 closed eyes?" said the spectre with a cane. As I 
 looked, the dawn was just glowing upon the world of 
 waters in the east ; the face of the deep reflecting the 
 colors of the sky as if upon a vast mirror, plains of 
 mother-of-pearl or opal, changing with the varying 
 hues of the morning. Cephas sat down to make a 
 note of what was going on in the orient ; and I sat by 
 to prompt him. 
 
 " The newspapers," he said, " are sending out report 
 ers to attend prize-fights ; and I may as well report a 
 
238 A WALK IN THE RAIN. 
 
 The reader who is opposed to sunrises may skip the 
 next paragraphs. Those who usually lie abed in the 
 morning, or who were never fortunate enough to camp 
 out on Little Neck, may with me look over Cephas 
 shoulder, and read his notes. 
 
 "Mem. A wine-colored sea, but deep blue in the 
 distance : a star glowing like fire from the midst of a 
 ruddy sky. The wine-color after a quarter of an hour 
 changes to the richest purple, which is then the pre 
 vailing tint for half an hour. The deep blue on the 
 horizon after a time also turns into purple, at first very 
 brilliant then deep and dark. A sloop is seen in the 
 distance, working across the painted sea. The color 
 ing varies in intensity, and assumes the form of ten 
 wide belts of purple extending from the horizon to the 
 shore. On the right the sea is like white wine. To 
 the left, dark clouds and ribs of colored sky lie low 
 over Plum Island. Over the open sea eastward and 
 directly in front of us are banks of glowing topaz. 
 From the place where the sun will rise there is an im 
 mense cloud of dark and shifting shades of red, rising 
 like a gull s wing and flowing far north. The bright 
 purple sea is now changed to a glowing ruddy hue, 
 and this color holds perhaps fifteen minutes, while the 
 clouds above are all ablaze. 
 
 " Meantime, a white mist has been rising from the 
 lower part of Plum Island in the near foreground on 
 our left; so that it is now like the rim of a coral island 
 with a lagoon in the centre. Banks of sand are on the 
 side toward the sea. Trees and clam houses appear 
 
A WALK IN THE RAIN. 239 
 
 along the western margin of the island. And the river 
 so called, on the west of the island and stretching to 
 the north, is now reflecting the bright colors of the sky. 
 Ducks rise and wing through the air, then suddenly 
 wheel and make for the inland marshes, crying as they 
 go. Turning to the west up the Ipswich River, and 
 northwest stretching toward Rowley, the marshes are 
 covered with white fog : round hills rise out of it like 
 islands ; and the forms of trees are dimly seen upon the 
 hill-tops. 
 
 "A fisherman s dory appears on our right, coming 
 out of Ipswich River. Beyond the river are the sand 
 dunes still dark, and a dark sand beach. And the 
 long point of Cape Anne is seen, reaching out into the 
 sea, like a dull cloud-bank resting on the water. I 
 cannot, however, keep my eyes off the golden east : the 
 gold all at once changes to red, then golden maroon, 
 then auburn, then golden auburn, then auburn clouded, 
 then straw-colored cloud and darker shades. When I 
 turn again to the west, I see the clouds of red-rose 
 overhanging the Ipswich hills and spires. And in the 
 near foreground, northwest, is Great Neck Hill with 
 some fourscore cattle camping on it, not yet risen; 
 and their forms are reflected in the rose-colored water, 
 which makes up from the river between the Little and 
 the Great Neck. 
 
 " Now, in the east, the sun is rising like a glowing fur 
 nace, sending his greetings along the waters ; and the 
 whole world about Little Neck is enlightened by a new 
 day. The clouds over the sunrise have changed to one 
 
240 A WALK IN THE RAIN. 
 
 quiet bank of deep auburn. The massive golden 
 bridge from the sun to Little Neck is too bright to look 
 upon. I turn my eyes rather to the deep rosy hues 
 that play over the bar, and the unmeasured miles of 
 watered silk which yonder sloop is sailing over. 
 
 " The changes on the face of sea and land are taking 
 place so rapidly as to outstrip all note taking. The 
 waters grow wonderfully bright. The mist about the 
 sandy headlands at the hither extremity of Plum 
 Island rise, obscuring the outlines of the cliffs. The 
 tents and clam houses further up the island shine in 
 the new light. Now the clouds in the east are chang 
 ing to slate color, flecked with white. Cape Anne is a 
 bank of dull clay color. The sun is veiled in a cloud 
 then emerges from it. The clouds and the ocean are a 
 dark white, mist rising everywhere from the smooth 
 waves. Now the fog is lifting from the land ; spires 
 and hills back from the sea are beginning to brighten 
 in the sunlight. The white sheet is removed from 
 Plum Island, and the island glows like an emerald. 
 Castle hill on the right, across Ipswich river, is now a 
 gem of perfect beauty ; every spire of grass on it show 
 ing its deep green. 
 
 " A little time since I saw movement in the reflec 
 tions of the cattle on Great Neck; and this moment 
 my ears are filled with a melancholy crying of calves, 
 and the noise of gunners blazing on the beach. But 
 far above all meaner sounds, I hear the roar of the 
 surf, as it begins to sound heavily right and left, all 
 along outside Plum Island, and on Ipswich beach 
 toward the Cape." 
 
A WALK IN THE RAIN. 241 
 
 " We are going to have a rainy day," said Cephas, 
 "and it will be just the weather to walk to Mount 
 Anne. There is no comfort in this world so solid as 
 an all day walk in a pouring rain. Let s try it." 
 
 " Agreed. There is nothing dry to me in a rain. 
 I d as soon do it as not," I answered, well remembering 
 many such days of unmixed enjoyment in a mixture of 
 mud and water, 
 
 " A deluge puts a man to practical thinking," con 
 tinued Cephas, " and it nourishes a feeling of inde 
 pendence, so long as he is not washed away by it. It 
 does one good to war with the elements, or what is 
 better to take what comes and keep the peace. He 
 who walks in the rain is solitary, and has strong pur 
 pose." 
 
 First strapping my knapsack, we put on rubber suits, 
 shouldered our packs and started for Mount Anne. 
 We were not far on the road before the rain came 
 down, a perfect torrent all day and the first part of 
 the night. 
 
 " Why don t you do as the great inventors have done, 
 and bring a new thought into the world," I asked just 
 before the rain began. " Can there be written no book 
 that will make an era in society to mark dates from ? 
 Aim high, as the gunners do. Aim high, and you may 
 hit mediocrity. Aim at mediocrity, and you will shoot 
 below it. Elevate your aim if you will strike a dis 
 tant mark." 
 
 After waiting sometime for this shot to take effect, I 
 began again, 
 
242 A WALK IN THE RAIN. 
 
 " Self respect leads us, even in discouraged hours, to 
 believe that we can become more than we are. Have 
 we no latent forces ? If we hope to wield royal powers 
 in the future life we ought now to assert ourselves, and 
 take possession of no small section of this world and 
 of several generations of time by our influence. Woe 
 is me, if I can get no respectable hold on this planet." 
 
 But even this sally did not draw fire. Cephas walked 
 on in silence. I also was silent After the rain had 
 fallen enough to thoroughly wet the ground, my com 
 panion made answer : 
 
 " The most worthy thing to aim for is the perfection 
 of one s own character; and that can best be reached 
 by a faithful discharge of present duties. A man who 
 would be noble will find stimulus enough in trying to 
 compete with himself, to make every day better than 
 the day before it. To do my work as well as I can, 
 and every day better, is all I want. My success is so 
 private that I cannot be upset in my plans, except 
 through physical indisposition ; and even days of ill 
 ness are of use in making a perfect life." 
 
 Thinking it highly probable that now he had begun 
 to talk, he would no more quit till a change of weather, 
 I opened up on the main business of the day ; 
 
 "The most innocent air-castle possible is that of 
 building a posthumous reputation. Even though you 
 modestly work among your own people, you are at 
 liberty to make as good sermons as you can for your 
 people. But if your ideas are extraordinarily good and 
 exceedingly well put, the next generation will need 
 
A WALK IN THE RAIN. 243 
 
 them as much as this one does. Thought fit for the 
 best minds, choicely expressed, will be of use in a hun 
 dred years from now, as much as today. You ought 
 to live and die in the firm belief that your ( remains 
 will be useful ; and though the rag-man shall buy them 
 the day after the funeral, you will never stop praising 
 God in Heaven, to halloo at the paper-maker on the 
 earth, who is making pulp of your old sermons. To 
 dream of posthumous fame is a safe outlet for the 
 energies of the most ambitious ; and the dream may 
 comfort many a poor fellow, who is spending nights 
 and days in skimming and churning the cream of 
 his studies to make butter for " 
 
 "Or setting curds to make literary cheese, very 
 green and very strong, for coming ages," interrupted 
 Cephas, who could not stand any allusion to bad butter 
 and mouldy cheese in such connection. 
 
 Recovering my equanimity, I went on again, " How 
 I despise the ringing of human applause in the living 
 ear ; but the ear of a dead man is not sensitive ; and 
 the ear of an angel is in better business than that of 
 listening to the fame of earth." 
 
 " Of all the men on the face of the earth," said Ce 
 phas, as he punched me with his walking stick, " I 
 wonder if you have turned prophet. You, who have 
 always been hankering after vain reports of your own 
 reputation, and longing to hear good things about your 
 self ! And now you talk like a philosopher, as though 
 it was all a vain show, and you would modestly get into 
 your grave for fear you should hear some one speak 
 
244 A WALK IN THE RAIN. 
 
 well of you. I should think you had stolen all the 
 ideas I ever had ; for you know I have always been 
 preaching up the doctrine of living obscurely, and 
 coming to some grand fame after death." 
 
 "Well, Cephas, that is just what I want to know 
 frankly," I answered. " I half suspected it, and now I 
 want to know all about it. I have been stealing your 
 ideas, to see whether you would claim the property. 
 For my part, I certainly believe that if a man goes 
 through this life without winning a great reputation, it 
 is precious little he will have of it when he is dead. 
 And if you are one of the stupids, who expect to thrust 
 asinine ears out of the grave to hear that your literary 
 fame is filling all the earth, I want to know it. Come, 
 out with it honestly." 
 
 And, hereupon, I punched him with the muddy end 
 of my walking stick. We wheeled out of the road, and 
 came to rest in a grove of hemlocks ; and there 
 lunched on hard-bread and raisins. I tried, in a feeble 
 manner, to tease my friend into some frank confession 
 of his longings for future fame. For I knew myself to 
 be so thoroughly infatuated with ambitious schemes to 
 gain some notoriety in my lifetime, that I thought I 
 should take comfort in knowing Cephas had so much 
 weakness about him, as to seek that dead, which I 
 would have in life. Rather, if I could get such confes 
 sion out of him, I might have something to fling back 
 when he should next torture me with an address on the 
 vanity of earthly ambition. Accordingly, I reminded 
 him of what he had said when we were boys, and what 
 
A WALK IN THE RAIN. 245 
 
 he had said when I first found out about the Old Red 
 Trunk in the Island Home. But I could wring from 
 him no other confession than this: that he would do 
 his daily work so well, and with such planning, that his 
 sermons becoming fewer year by year should con 
 tain his best thinking, concentrated, and put into his 
 best style, with some hope that a part of them might 
 be thought worthy of printing and using by some Dry 
 asdust Tract Society after his demise. 
 
 " What makes you talk about sermons ? " said I, as 
 we began our walk again. " Why not try some fresh 
 field for authorship ?" 
 
 "Fresh?" answered Cephas. "Fresh? To make 
 good sermons would be the most refreshing thing on 
 this planet. The making of first class sermons is a 
 business not yet overdone. Mr. Webster, is the pro 
 fession of the law crowded ? There is room enough 
 up stairs, replied the man of Marshfield. 
 
 "The upper shelf, where stand the classics of the 
 pulpit can contain a few more books; and if you are 
 ambitious in your business, as you claim to be, I would 
 like to have you try to make some of the best sermons 
 in the English language. You need not move out of 
 your parish to do it. The names of South and Jeremy 
 Taylor were once no better known than yours. And 
 Jeremy Taylor s best work was done in a very obscure 
 community. You had better keep to your sermons, 
 rather than to be always hankering for a valise and a 
 railroad ticket. You have been a carpet bagger long 
 enough. Sermons, which bore the popular mind in 
 
246 A WALK IN THE RAIN. 
 
 small parishes, augur no good for the future fame of 
 the preacher. If you will seek the highest kind of 
 authorship, I advise you to quit your literary projects, 
 and stick to your business in snugly meeting the wants 
 of your people. By parochial work and knowing your 
 men, and by hard hours in the study, and by prayer for 
 wisdom, and by study of the style of the Bible and 
 books that will live forever, you may be able to make a 
 few sermons which your own townsmen will not wil 
 lingly let die. Whether all the world will rise up and 
 object to having your barrel of sermons buried with 
 you, like the weapons of an Indian warrior, need not 
 be asked in your lifetime." 
 
 It being my turn to be silent I made no reply, know 
 ing that Cephas would continue to throw cold water on 
 all my ambitions, dripping like the rain. After we had 
 walked on about a mile with the storm beating against 
 us most furiously, Cephas, being ahead, slacked up a 
 little when the rain did, and expressed himself thus : 
 
 "How can any man dream of posthumous fame, 
 even the conquest of a handful of his own townsmen 
 after he is gone, unless he himself has led a rare life? 
 I can, however, imagine that the pastor of a rural par 
 ish with some leisure for the careful study of his 
 people and his books and much leisure for prayer and 
 opening the Scriptures may learn somehow to adapt 
 the truth to the men about him, and secure the interest 
 of farmers and mechanics and tradesmen in the most 
 vital truths, and thus arouse his whole community by 
 the greatest ideas which can enter the human mind, 
 till his people seem to be eye witnesses of those things 
 
A WALK IN THE RAIN. 247 
 
 which concern the children of immortality. The very 
 truths and methods and style, by which he gets such 
 hold on his townsmen, will be likely to influence men 
 elsewhere and in other generations. Human nature is 
 substantially the same in all ages. Upon this axiom 
 rests the only possibility of permanent literary power. 
 One may tickle the fancy of a class of ill proportioned 
 minds, but he who meets the wants of man will abide 
 forever. Those truths which relate to our inner life 
 and the deepest wants of the race are the most abiding. 
 If it were possible to make sermons, which fairly set 
 forth the truth, interesting to the masses of men, they 
 would assume rank as the most permanent kind of 
 literature. 
 
 " Socrates dwells with us today, and will never lose 
 his influence upon the human race, because he is for 
 ever conversing with unequalled skill upon some of 
 those topics which every thoughtful man is always 
 turning over in his own mind. Whoever will be wise 
 and learn to separate the true from the false in his 
 mental conceptions, must be quickened by the ques 
 tionings of the ancient Greek. Looking into those 
 immortal dialogues, the students of every age will 
 behold the kind of work, which they themselves must 
 do before it can be said that their minds are well disci 
 plined.* 
 
 *NOTE. "The method of Socrates survives still in some of the 
 dialogues of Plato, and is a process of eternal value and universal 
 application. There is no man whose notions have not been first 
 got together by spontaneous, unartificial associations, resting upon 
 forgotten particulars, blending together disparities and inconsis- 
 
248 A WALK IN THE RAIN. 
 
 So all writers upon religious themes have in hand 
 problems, which every truly thoughtful man in every 
 age will study for himself. Those books, therefore, 
 upon these topics, which are most profound and reada 
 ble, clear, concise and helpful, are the ones into which 
 the best minds will always delight to look, since these 
 themes are undying as the human race. If a writer 
 knows men, knows the truth, and knows the style fit 
 for the truth and for men, he ought, by a wise choice 
 of subjects and by the concentration of all his energies 
 upon them, to prepare something which will suitably 
 set forth the highest truths, and leave a worthy legacy 
 to those who come after him. One man who gives 
 himself heartily to preparing, what shall be in sub 
 stance if not in form, sermons of as high an order as 
 he can, may elevate the standard of sermon making 
 throughout the countries where the English tongue will 
 be used. Certain men have done this. To do this, 
 the preacher need not occupy a commanding position ; 
 but to do this he must be diligent and faithful and of 
 noble soul in the use of his hours, wherever he may 
 happen to be." 
 
 When we came to our noonday halt, it was in a 
 deserted barn not far from the public road. We found 
 a place ten feet square where the roof did not leak, 
 and there lunched. 
 
 tencies, and having in his mind old and familiar phrases and 
 oracular propositions of which he has never rendered to himself an 
 account ; and there is no man who has not found it a necessary 
 branch of self-education to break up, analyze and reconstruct these 
 ancient mental compounds." Grote. 
 
MORE RAIN. 249 
 
 XXI 
 
 MORE RAIN. 
 
 WHAT ! More rain ? The shower preceding has 
 been very gentle compared with the deluge 
 to come ! 
 
 " Perhaps I have not dealt wisely in uncorking 
 Cephas upon the topic in hand ; but a continual drop 
 ping in a rainy day and Cephas are alike." So 
 thought I to myself when Cephas began again as soon 
 as lunch was over, and poured out floods of talk all 
 the afternoon. 
 
 " When as students we search through libraries," 
 said this day-dreamer, "seeking to become acquainted 
 with the most thoughtful men of this age and all ages, 
 seeking everywhere to find the elements of permanent 
 literary power, we cannot conceal it from ourselves that 
 there are comparatively few books which will be widely 
 popular in the coming years. Some books are so full 
 of thought, beautifully and powerfully expressed, that 
 they will be always favorites with the great army -of 
 students, a regiment of whom will cross this globe in 
 every generation to come ; there are other books which 
 will be searched by careful students for a few important 
 
250 MORE RAIN. 
 
 ideas amid a heap of verbiage. At this period of the 
 world, there is still room enough for those who aim to 
 do the best things. It is not true that every genera 
 tion supplies itself with its own books. If the truth is 
 once spoken in a style that cannot be well surpassed, it 
 will stand. Those truths which pertain to the interior 
 life of the soul are as abiding as the soul itself ; and a 
 book that is very rich in its expressions of the most 
 vital truth will live ; how long, will depend on its style. 
 
 "There was a time long ages since, in which a few 
 writers were so simple minded as to take great pains 
 in composition, writing again and again the same mat 
 ter, spending long years in elaborating small books, 
 and we are glad to read them to-day; while many 
 books, which have thought in them of much greater 
 importance, we pile in the dust of our topmost shelves, 
 because their authors were careless in composition. 
 He who is careless in style is careless of posterity. 
 By this test it can be easily seen how many writers of 
 this age will live. We ask at first whether they utter 
 anything worth keeping in the world more than a few 
 days? And if they have uttered truths of permanent 
 value, we ask whether their words are sufficiently 
 attractive to stand. I believe that there are many 
 country parsons who can, if they will, greatly enlarge 
 their parishes by prayer to the God of Wisdom, by 
 deep searching of the Word from heaven, by hard 
 thinking and very careful writing. 
 
 "Is it said that there are already too many books in 
 the world ? This is entirely a mistake ; there are very 
 
MORE RAIN. 251 
 
 few books in the world. For one or two thousand 
 dollars, there can be bought copies of all the books 
 that will be valuable to the human race in five hundred 
 years from now. Many more will be valuable to the 
 student of social science ; but the bulk of the race will 
 care nothing for them in their present form. Men 
 sometimes bemoan the hard lot of future students, as 
 if they would be bound to read any considerable part 
 of the printed and bound paper that now sells under 
 the name of literature. Concerning most of the stuff, 
 the future students will feel much as we do respecting 
 the doings of the creatures that crowded the globe 
 before Adam. 
 
 There is competition enough in making current 
 literature, but very little in making books for the 
 future. If any person is particularly ambitious in this 
 line, the way is open, or he can open it. He will not 
 write books that will crowd the market, or make him a 
 great name; but he may secure a few thoughtful 
 readers if he takes pains enough." 
 
 "Well, Cephas," said I, stepping out into the mud 
 once more, "you speak as though a man could sit 
 down in a very business-like manner, and say to him 
 self, Go to, let us manufacture a posthumous reputa 
 tion. We can turn out immortal books if we plan for 
 it, as readily as our neighbor can make shoes. 
 
 " Now I have always supposed that the great thinkers 
 whose works will stand through the ages, thought little 
 about having a great influence. They did not plan for 
 it, any more than Shakespeare did ; who made his plays 
 
252 MORE RAIN. 
 
 to get a living, not for fame. These men are great 
 because they were born so. They did not sit down 
 and make up their future fame as my grandmother sits 
 down to knit stockings, having a fixed rule for turning 
 the heel and narrowing at the toes." 
 
 " Neither, my friend," said Cephas, " did one of those 
 gentlemen sit down and say to himself, I am the. 
 flower and fruit of all the ages. The centuries have 
 been waiting for me. 
 
 "No, Edward, you are altogether mistaken. They 
 did not plan to make future fame, or take the fame for 
 granted. Every day they fulfilled their round of life as 
 well as they could. The conversations in Plato were 
 designed for influence on the Athenians in that hour ; 
 and all the skill that could be devised was used by 
 Socrates in the market and in shops. No man was 
 so obscure as to make the philosopher forget to put 
 forth his best powers in conversing with him. To excel 
 himself in conversing, to do it better every day for the 
 sake of improving the men around him, was the aim : 
 and no man on the globe has been . found equal to 
 him. Or if any one has been skilled as he, no one has 
 been exactly like him. Every mind develops according 
 to its own law and nature. And though a man s best 
 work may not be absolutely the best in the world, it 
 may be the best of that kind; and may therefore be 
 of permanent interest, as a unique mental fruit. What 
 is wanted, is that a man should have diligence in his 
 present calling ; and make the most of it by incessant 
 toil and every attainable help." 
 
MORE RAIN. 253 
 
 Just then we stepped over a wall to go across lots. 
 We were soon tangled in a thicket of alders, and floun 
 dering in the swamp from which they sprang. An old 
 hemlock log promised firm footing; but the wet moss 
 and rotten outer fibres gave way when Cephas put his 
 foot upon it, and he involuntarily slipped into deep 
 mud, and then sat down upon the log. And I sat 
 down beside him. Directly, he moved to one end, and 
 I to the other. There we sat, leaning our knapsack- 
 encumbered-backs against some of the large alders. 
 Taking our feet out of the mire, and planting them also 
 upon the old hemlock, we faced each other. Then 
 Cephas began again to read aloud what was written in 
 his mind, as if out of a book. 
 
 " I don t think, Ned, that it will be necessary for you 
 to write many books in order to become immortal. 
 Homer is not voluminous. The fame of Demosthenes 
 rests upon a few short speeches, which will never cease 
 to be models for all mankind. The great statesmen 
 and pleaders of recent times will be best appreciated 
 in after ages by a few orations and arguments. The 
 divines whose ideas are most compact, and whose style 
 is best fitted to the men of every age, will live in small 
 volumes. 
 
 " I tell you frankly, if I could do it, I would make 
 one book upon a topic of general interest to all stu 
 dents in all ages, and would do my work so thoroughly 
 in matter and style that no future reader on that sub 
 ject would pass it by. I would make one book, which, 
 like the magnetic mountain of Arabian story, would 
 
254 MORE RAIN. 
 
 through all the ages draw to itself the ships of all trav 
 elers that pass that way. But I am in perfect despair 
 of attaining such power. 
 
 " In my despair, however, I will not do so inconsid 
 erate a thing as to print matter whose immaturity in 
 quality and style is sure to shock me after a twelve 
 month. You sometimes tell me, Ned, that you must 
 say your say now or never. But the world can wait for 
 you to think it over a little more, and ^improve your 
 style. Things indifferent can be said as well one time 
 as another. What relates to current events must be 
 said in the moment, as a man might send printed 
 directions to his boy to put up the bars. And it is true 
 that one may get some reputation for hitting the nail 
 on the head in printed matter on current topics, and 
 for saying pleasant words on things indifferent. But 
 he who is looking for more permanent power can well 
 afford to wait. As the years pass, iniquity will still pre 
 vail ; and a strong book published ten years hence may 
 be better than a feeble book published today. Satan is 
 more offended by solid shot than by pith balls. 
 
 " Print when you get ready ; but be sure that you are 
 as nearly ready as you can reasonably expect to be, or 
 that the exigencies of the time demand your extempore 
 effort. Hit right and left as may seem wise in the 
 battle of papers and magazines and books today; but 
 as to future fame, if that is what you want, you had 
 better think little about it, only make certain to concen 
 trate your best thinking into a few sentences, and 
 publish little and late. 
 
MORE RAIN. 255 
 
 "One s mind, is not likely to mature so perfectly as to 
 leave nothing to be mended as the years advance. 
 Keep your manuscripts out of type as long as possible. 
 You may get new light, and new method of displaying 
 it. Jonathan Edwards and Augustine and Luther, I 
 suspect, laugh or even weep, today, over some of the ex 
 pressions now stereotyped and circulating on the earth 
 under their names. Do all you can toward mending 
 your papers,-r- lest the printers shame you, age after 
 age in the heavens. If the glorified saints have any 
 work to do as ministering spirits in this world, nearly 
 half the business of some of them must be in stirring 
 up authors to controvert the books said saints put into 
 print while in the flesh. I should be rather ashamed 
 of you, Edward, if, a hundred years from now, you 
 should come to me, and say, 
 
 " Cephas, Cephas, I wish you would go down to 
 the coast of Cape Anne, and get somebody to print a 
 book in opposition to the bad theology and worse logic 
 and intolerable rhetoric which I printed when I was 
 pastor in those parts; and which I see is still quoted 
 by some of my few admirers. 
 
 "No, Edward, I advise you to keep out of print all 
 you can. You may want to controvert your own opin 
 ions, modify your statements, and certainly to mend 
 your style, from four hundred to a thousand times 
 before you die. Don t print. Don t." 
 
 " I wont, if you ll emigrate," said I, rising, stretching 
 my legs and adjusting my pack, ready for another 
 heroic struggle to get out of the alder swamp. But in 
 
256 MORE RAIN. 
 
 my attempt to cross a sluggish brook on stepping 
 stones, a little further on, I slipped and went into the 
 water over my rubber boots. Cephas stood upon the 
 bank beyond, philosophizing thus : 
 
 " Most students are launched into the seething cur 
 rent of life before they are educated. They do not, 
 after that, get time to extend the range of their studies. 
 Perhaps a pastor is a pithy paragraph writer for news 
 papers ; and he may do vast good in that way. But 
 the hours are passing, and life itself will soon slip 
 away ; and the preacher is yet ignorant of a great 
 range of studies which might aid him in sermon mak 
 ing. He who will secure the most permanent power 
 must be willing to forego the more transient. The ser 
 mon maker has enough to do: let others do their 
 work the work needed for the current wants of the 
 reading world"; there are enough who can do it, and do 
 it well, and who will never do his work: the sermon 
 maker must stand to his guns, let who will fire squibs 
 and pistols, and do sharp shooting. Let him learn all 
 the good gifts of style, and put his best thoughts into 
 shape for his people. If they are worthy, the printers 
 and readers will be glad of his papers when he has 
 done his best to perfect them." 
 
 All that afternoon and early evening we talked. 
 Cephas told me more than I had known concerning his 
 pigeon holes and plans of study ; of his entering upon 
 long years of toil in definite lines of work. I could 
 see, however, that he did not rely mainly upon any un- 
 
MORE RAIN. 257 
 
 couth cramming process, or upon his increasing skill in 
 composition. His mind was fixed upon gaining the 
 highest possible power by the inspiring presence of 
 God in all his studies. 
 
 Cephas notions of sermon making were not all con 
 formed to the Blair or Edwardean models. He meant 
 by the word sermon merely an interesting and effective 
 talk on religion. Bound to make such talks interesting 
 anyhow, he worked in all the religion he could on that 
 basis. The short fragmentary treatment of Christian 
 themes in the pulpit fell so far short of the dignity 
 of complete treatises that my friend preferred to call 
 them mere talks. I do not know but his ideal of ser 
 mon making was to have thoroughly live conversations 
 on religion ; to use the dramatic form and every form 
 possible to catch men s attention, and keep it, and 
 to enforce the truth. He dwelt much on the Bible 
 style of presenting religious themes, doctrinal ser 
 mons like the book of Romans rarely, but doctrine 
 everywhere, in every shape, whether biography, history, 
 poetry, type, drama, epistle, or anecdote. With this 
 wide definition of the sermon, he believed sermon 
 making a good business to be in for preparing the best 
 kind of literature. The work of so presenting religious 
 truth to the common mind as to make it thoroughly 
 attractive as well as quickening, is a work worthy the 
 highest ambition for literary distinction; offering due 
 reward to those who desire large influence in meeting 
 the highest wants of man. 
 
 To make sermons sound on natural science and 
 10 
 
258 MORE RAIN. 
 
 social questions as well as on theology ; warm with the 
 love of God to man ; with quick sympathy for all that 
 is human ; fervid in claiming man s repentance and 
 faith, this kind of work is of unsurpassed dignity ; 
 and in it the pastor may advance to the very first rank 
 of literary power. To imbue sermons with the greatest 
 degree of merit in range, substance, structure, and 
 style, is to do much toward putting into the world a 
 distinctive religious literature, which will carry the day 
 against all antagonist writings. If unbelief makes 
 good use of the pen, it is a standing scandal upon our 
 faith if Christian themes cannot be thoroughly popu 
 larized in print. And while it is true that religious 
 writings are beyond all comparison popularly in 
 the lead of those distinctly irreligious, yet the making 
 of first class Christian literature, which will abide 
 through the ages, is a work not overdone. 
 
 When Cephas came round again to this point that 
 the field is still open, I could see, by his tone, intensity 
 of speech and kindling eye, that he had some hope, 
 by forty years of hard toiling and praying, he might be 
 useful to some who should come after him. 
 
 " Posthumous influence ! " quoth he, " not a bad thing 
 to dream about after all, to dream about, while work 
 ing to the utmost for one s own people today." 
 
 This was said by the roaring fire we had made at the 
 side of a big boulder on top of Mount Anne. We 
 were shut off from the wind ; the storm was abating ; 
 and we had dried a sufficient space to make ourselves 
 comfortable under the shelter we had erected. 
 
MORE RAIN. 259 
 
 At this particular point I heard a cracking in the 
 bushes at our backs, and a deep bass sound like that 
 of an Indian, 
 
 " Ugh ! " 
 
 Turning that way, I saw, disentangling himself from 
 a thicket, the huge frame of the Houlton Giant. 
 
 I dreaded him more than any man in Essex county. 
 For, in the first place, he was the greatest tramp in the 
 country. His bill for shoe leather exceeded all his 
 other family expenses. With him, I was a snail. He 
 was always stirring me up to go somewhere, and to go 
 quickly. Many a time he has taken me out of a quiet 
 parlor, merely to sit in the sun on a hot day, in the 
 midst of dust intolerable, overlooking some dirty back 
 street in an unclean city. He could not be easy to sit 
 down to converse in a house. If I walked with him 
 by the side of the sea, he would, as soon as we were 
 comfortably seated upon some promontory, at once rise 
 and suggest that we walk to another headland half a 
 mile off, and he would not be easy until I moved ; and 
 he would not be easy then. 
 
 Plodding upon his farm, and caring for his hens and 
 cow and cosset, or tramping through the country, he 
 had ideas of the order of Webster and Milton, the well- 
 proportioned mind of the one and the poetic fancy of 
 the other. I can never express the wonder with which 
 I looked upon that man. If he had been trained in 
 the schools, and been placed in a social position call 
 ing out his energies, I believe he would have filled the 
 world with his fame. He was content to live nobly ; 
 
260 MORE RAIN. 
 
 and his life was to me the finest poem in the world, his 
 simple piety to me more eloquent than all preachers. 
 He imparted a certain dignity to the every day employ 
 ments of life. When he was doing chores about his 
 place, he said he sometimes thought this was what he 
 was for. He believed this was the way the old prophets 
 did : they moved about their land, tilling the soil, and 
 working with oxen ; and when they spoke for God, it 
 was to them a burden to be lifted and borne, the bur 
 den of the Lord. With his long flowing black hair, he 
 seemed like a veritable prophet. I could hardly bear 
 it to be with this man ; he so shamed me in my low 
 plane of living. When his full eyes fastened upon me 
 I thought nothing in my soul could be concealed. 
 
 This night was one of his nights of power; and it 
 was as if Mount Anne had become Olympus. The 
 writings of the noblest men, he had upon his tongue s 
 end ; and yet there was nothing unworthy in his speech. 
 The words of Plato and Milton did not seem so much 
 quotations, as the natural expression of his own 
 thoughts; and his spirit was habitually dwelling in 
 that region where he had the best of earth for his com 
 panions. We had an ambrosial night. A little before 
 daybreak he walked away into the darkness; and I 
 never saw him again. He perished by the fall of a 
 tower in a foreign country. 
 
MOUNT ANNE. 261 
 
 XXII. 
 MOUNT ANNE. 
 
 ROUSING up early in the morning under a clear 
 sky, I turned over upon my hard bed, saying, 
 "According to your method, Cephas, Milton 
 might have tinkered on Paradise Lost till this time, and 
 he never would have been done. For my part I am 
 glad he published it in his life time, before it was per 
 fected to death and all the inspiration taken out of it. 
 I believe with Carlyle, that while no one can make a 
 mathematical square, yet any respectable carpenter can 
 make one that is square enough. I don t believe in this 
 filing away all your life on a few sermons." 
 
 "Well, I do suppose," said Cephas, yawning, "that 
 if the stupids who cleaned up Milton s house after he 
 was dead, had found the unpublished manuscript of 
 Paradise Lost, they would have tucked it into the ash 
 hole ; and the noblest devil who ever trod this earth 
 would have smothered there, if a printer s devil had not 
 happened to pull him out. Four-legged vermin, hunt 
 ing after a bone in that dark hole, would have taken 
 those lines, 
 
 Hail holy Light, &c. 
 and made them into a mouse nest." 
 
262 MOUNT ANNE. 
 
 " If you don t print before you die," I answered, " I ll 
 take your pigeon holes, and sell them for dove cotes. 
 One hundred and fifty thousand bits of paper, which 
 you call ideas, I will tie up into kite tails, and ship 
 them to China, where everybody raises a kite once a 
 year." 
 
 "That is all they would be fit for, if I should print 
 them now," said Cephas. " What is the use of my 
 offering to tract societies material that ought to go up 
 on the next high wind ? If I can t reduce my rag paper 
 to pulp, and make fair pages out of it, I am content you 
 should take my sermons, and furnish all the boys in 
 creation with stuff for steering kites." 
 
 " I have noticed, Cephas," I answered, " that the 
 immortal speeches and writings of former times have 
 been for immediate use. I never heard that any part 
 of Milton s- prose works, or that the speeches of Demos 
 thenes were made for posterity. There was present 
 business to be done. Glittering generalities do not 
 make up well for coming generations. If you don t 
 strike hard and hot in the present living issues, your 
 blows will never echo down the aisles of the future. 
 Unless the men of this age feel your power, the next 
 age will not care whether you left any unpublished 
 manuscripts." 
 
 " Whew ! whew ! " was the only reply I heard. Look 
 ing in the direction of the sound, I saw the posthumous 
 fame man blowing at a mosquito; which was trying 
 hard to effect an entrance into the breathing hole 
 
MOUNT ANNE. 263 
 
 Cephas had left in his bed-covering. It is vexatious 
 that minds panting after immortality should become 
 victims to the contemptible details of bodily conve 
 nience. But that musical vampire took off our atten 
 tion, and we thought nothing more of posthumous fame 
 till after breakfast. 
 
 I kindled the fire, and Cephas made spruce tea to 
 soak our hard bread, and cooked eggs in a birch bark 
 kettle. We then went strolling about the bald head of 
 Mount Anne. I placed my feet in the hoof-prints made 
 by some gigantic horse of former ages ; deciphered the 
 lettering inscribed in the register of this out-door hotel ; 
 examined the marks left by the coast survey ; and then 
 looked at the leaves just below the crest as they glis 
 tened in the sunlight. I imagined how the forest 
 would look when maple, beech, and oak put on their 
 gay colors, in the midst of sober evergreens, with soli 
 tary crags showing their heads among the tree tops. 
 
 On either hand, in the distance, were seen vast 
 tracts of pine. Northeast, the view stretches away to 
 Pigeon Hill, and the highlands back of Rockport ; and, 
 on the south, to the high crown of the hill at Norman s 
 Woe, and the naked ridges back of Magnolia. South 
 west and west, the forest hides all the country toward 
 Wenham and Beverly. The Blue Hills, and the heights 
 of Stoneham and Lexington, rise in the distance. 
 More dimly, further west and northwest, appear Wa- 
 chusett, Monadnock, the hills of Francestown, and the 
 Uncanoonucks, with a wide area of intervening coun 
 try. Turning toward the sea, the. coast line can be 
 
264 MOUNT ANNE. 
 
 followed from Maine to the south shore of Massachu 
 setts Bay. 
 
 "Did you ever make a careful estimate," I asked, 
 turning to Cephas, " of the immense number of squir 
 rels and woodchucks and rattlesnakes this area of for 
 est is capable of sustaining?" 
 
 " No," he answered. " But I have here in my pocket, 
 a very careful estimate of the number of the genus homo 
 the western hemisphere will support; and it is just 
 thirty-six hundred millions. And I have also the docu 
 ments which show that, in a hundred years from now, 
 more than eight hundred millions of people will be 
 speaking the English language. And while I have no 
 idea that more than four hundred millions of them will 
 care anything about reading* my posthumous works, 
 yet I have concluded to do all I can to make my writ 
 ings so good, that every well-regulated family will want 
 them in the house. I kept awake an hour after you 
 went to sleep last night, thinking how I could write 
 something so interesting as to keep the young folks of 
 the next generation sitting up nights to read my books. 
 
 " Did you never stop in the midst of all your parish 
 cares, and dream about the populations which will 
 crowd the continents of the future? Steam power and 
 water power will everywhere drive the wheels of indus 
 try. And who will set up thinking mills? Factories 
 are not common for making "A. i. Extra Finish" 
 books. A good part of the finish is put into the paper 
 and binding." 
 
 "The streams on which most thinking mills are 
 
MOUNT ANNE. 265 
 
 erected," I replied, " are not equal to more than one or 
 two horse power, and dry half the year at that. You 
 talk as though a man could go into the business, much 
 as he would make shingles." 
 
 Cephas drew from his pocket a copy of the Psalms, 
 and pointed me to the text, "All my springs are in 
 Thee." 
 
 "He who builds on this, will never fail," was the 
 comment. " Unless a mill is built hard by the Divine 
 resources, and is driven by the very power of the High 
 est, little success can be counted on." 
 
 "Can you count on certain success in this way?" 1 
 asked. " Only think how many pious blockheads have 
 lumbered up the shelves of libraries. Here is an 
 appeal now, for more m oney to build more roof, to 
 keep more of their books from perishing by exposure 
 to the weather on the street stalls of the venders of 
 unsalable books. Libraries are warehouses for gather 
 ing papermakers stock, never to be utilized. And you 
 will work day and night all your life, and dream of 
 fame, merely to add a couple of pounds weight to the 
 heavy material, that is already bending the long shelves 
 in the theological attic of some big library. For my 
 part I would rather be a tramp, and wear out sole 
 leather." 
 
 Cephas seemed to fall in readily with this last sug 
 gestion. We accordingly rolled up our luggage, shoul 
 dered the packs, and started for Coffin s beach. On 
 our way^ Cephas was full of missionary talk ; he was 
 looking, day by day, for some providence which would 
 
266 MOUNT ANNE. 
 
 take him out of New England. To work in the border 
 country, to help mould the life of new states and terri 
 tories, was what he was always sighing for. And yet 
 his health was so wretched, that he had to abstain from 
 very intense work in his own parish, and from all out 
 side labor in the way of church activities and social 
 reform. He had to tread an even path to live out his 
 years. 
 
 " Some days," he said, " I pray for a compensation 
 for all my bodily infirmities. As Samson of old 
 prayed, O Lord, avenge me of mine eyes, I ask, 
 
 " O Lord, avenge me of my body : as I would have 
 been a home missionary, make my books missionaries, 
 to be read in many homes on the border : as I would 
 have worked most intensely for the spiritual good of 
 many people, allowing no rest day nor night till they 
 should be born anew in Christ Jesus; so. make my 
 printed sermons powerful for the salvation of men. 
 
 "I confess, however, that I expect little in this direc 
 tion. I can not make this prayer in faith. It is only 
 an aspiration by which I relieve my mind, in hours of 
 earnest struggling with my fate. 
 
 "Yet I cannot help envying that New England 
 pastor, who will by his writings preach over against 
 Buddha and Confucius in their own countries. Dod- 
 dridge s Rise and Progress is leading men to God in 
 Armeno-Turkish. Every man to his work: some are 
 going forth to conquer the continents for Christ ; some 
 are sitting in quiet studies preparing a literature, which 
 will be read by every Christian people. 
 
MOUNT ANNE. 267 
 
 " Ned, did you never go into the woods to lie down, 
 and weep and pray for the descent of the Quickening 
 Spirit upon distant islands and dark populations? If 
 you have, and if you must nurse your body most care 
 fully day by day, you know what it is to be consumed 
 with longing for so much skill in writing, as will make 
 your words a missionary force after your hand has 
 crumbled in dust." 
 
 Little by little, as we made our way over the narrow 
 road, I was made acquainted with my friend s inner 
 life, as I had not known it before. With unutterable 
 desire he was now living mainly for one purpose. 
 Despairing of going forth himself to mingle in the 
 world s wide battle, he was doing as well as he could 
 in his quiet parish ; but all the energy he could put to 
 it was given to careful writing, primarily to meet the 
 wants of his own people and not without hope that 
 some of his pages might find their way into missionary 
 fields. In the bright dawning of the days of peace 
 just before us, a warm and glowing Christian literature 
 will find an increasing number of readers ; and is it 
 folly to pray that one s words may go forth to the ends 
 of the world, and be read by distant generations of 
 men ? It is wise at least to lead so noble a life that 
 holy men, coming after, may not be ashamed of our 
 memory. In such talk we whiled away the journey. 
 To write books for boys, to make the truth attractive 
 to young men, was claimed to be the best business in 
 this world. 
 
 " If I could write books which would reach thought- 
 
268 MOUNT ANNE. 
 
 ful lads and lasses of fourteen and sixteen, I would not 
 exchange influence with any one," said Cephas, just as 
 we began to feel the hard floor of the beach under our 
 feet. "When you were a child, inquiring the way of 
 life and darkly stumbling, you know the books that 
 seized upon you with strong hand. I remember your 
 first contact with John Foster; and the curious subtle 
 though tfulness of a nameless writer, so obscure and 
 unpractical that he has had no readers, and yet 
 whose two hundred pages gave a new turn to your life. 
 Future Franklins will rise, ready to confess the mould 
 ing power of simple essays, like those of Cotton 
 Mather. Large minded boys may be led to higher 
 aspirations and broader sympathies by unpretending 
 books. To aid in forming the character of one noble 
 child is worth a life time of labor. To leave such an 
 endowment for young men is like founding colleges. 
 An idea is a thing of life, to grow when your body is in 
 the dust, to flourish when your memory has passed 
 away, to rise daily with new vigor after the decay of 
 many a generation." 
 
 After crossing the ferry to Squam, we walked down 
 the rocky ridge toward Bayview, and struck through the 
 woods to Pigeon Cove. All that day, we talked on 
 such themes as made that walk most memorable in my 
 own mental history. 
 
 My work today, in writing this chapter, finds me at 
 Pigeon Cove, within a few rods of the place where we 
 slept that night. We were in a field on the brink 
 of the rock bound shore. I am sitting in the shadow 
 
MOUNT ANNE. 269 
 
 of a brine washed ledge with my feet just above the 
 still waters. In my portfolio I find certain papers in 
 Cephas handwriting, which are, properly, the contin 
 uation of the talk we had that day. 
 
 " It is no small part of my regular business, day by 
 day, to go into deep solitude that I may plead with 
 God and study the Word, if by such means I may 
 gain the heavenly wisdom, and know the secret places 
 of power. Is it a vain thing that I have shed so many 
 tears over the map and over God s Word, as I have 
 been crying mightily unto Him upon great rocks in 
 wide forests, in secluded valleys, upon mountain slopes, 
 and by the side of the sea? When I have been pray 
 ing for my people, and for pagans, and for the unborn 
 populations of the world, I have dared to desire to do 
 something to bring in the kingdom, even though it be 
 only to condense my life purposes into a few words, 
 which may act as seed thoughts in the minds of a hand 
 ful of young men in after times, that through them I 
 may gain some friends for Christ in later ages of the 
 world. If by thirty or forty years of labor and un 
 ceasing supplication for wisdom and power, I could 
 write one or two books which wide awake lads would 
 read * * * ." 
 
 Here ends the paper. I find by such memoranda, 
 that hours together were spent in pleading with God 
 upon the topics here indicated. Cephas studies were 
 carried on in the secret places of prayer ; as if from the 
 very shadow of the Almighty were to go forth his 
 appeals to his own people and all whom he might 
 
270 MOUNT ANNE. 
 
 reach. He hoped that the Lord might use him, and 
 allow him to speak more wisely than he knew, half 
 unconscious of the glory of the message. 
 
 "What may we not look for," says this note book, 
 "in our new alliance with Jehovah? He who walks 
 with God walks in the way of unusual power. The 
 solitary places of our country parishes may be made 
 glad by revelations from on High. Hill-side paths or 
 homely pastures; tangled woodlands and wild mead 
 ows ; dreary walks on prairies or amid the corn lands 
 and grazing fields, or under the hay stacks, may be 
 the places where God will show His truth to his own 
 chosen, and where, from day to day, may rise, with un 
 speakable earnestness, the prayer of the psalmist, O 
 God, forsake me not; until I have shewed thy strength 
 unto this generation, thy power to every one that is to 
 come." 
 
 If the phantom of future fame flitted at times before 
 the eyes of my friend, he followed it nobly, seeking 
 to walk in a strength not his own. 
 
MOQUELUMNE HILL. 271 
 
 XXIII. 
 MOQUELUMNE HILL. 
 
 Spring following our Mount Anne bivouac, 
 Cephas was invited to labor in California, under 
 * circumstances which gave him strong hope that 
 he could stand to it. He had been suffering a great 
 deal from nervous difficulties ; and he proposed spend 
 ing some months in the Sierra before taking up his 
 new work. 
 
 In the autumn I also went to California, and re 
 mained there a part of the winter. When I arrived, 
 Cephas had not yet returned from the mountains. Lit 
 tle had been heard from him. His health, at the first 
 seemed to improve although he had alluded to some 
 bad symptoms about his head. Still, his friends were 
 confidently looking forward to his speedy return. My 
 business took me into the hill country. Within a week, 
 I had the misfortune to sprain my ankle, in jumping a 
 fence ; and then made it the worse by an enforced 
 horseback ride of ten miles after the accident. I was, 
 therefore, laid up several weeks ; and found in a Chris 
 tian home in Moquelumne Hill a refuge so comfortable 
 that I was glad to be an invalid. 
 
272 MOQUELUMNE HILL. 
 
 My time was divided between writing, showering my 
 foot, lying down on a board in the sunny garden, tend 
 ing my landlady s baby, and assisting a little at the 
 sink, from which place, however, I was discharged as 
 incompetent. 
 
 With one crutch and a hoe handle, I managed to 
 hobble about among the neighbors, devouring sundry 
 turkey dinners, which were quite the rage all the sea 
 son. I was equal to this business. 
 
 Moreover, upon three legs, I climbed all the smaL 
 hills about the village. There was not a cloud in the 
 sky for thirty days, and this in the season for rain fall. 
 Living out of doors was a constant delight. 
 
 One day I ascended a peak on the east of the town. 
 If I remember aright, the sides of the hill had been 
 badly torn by miners ; but the top was a paradise of 
 fine pictures. The south overlooks the rough backs of 
 twenty miles of hills, rolling like the ocean in tempest ; 
 and on the horizon stretch the flat tops of table moun 
 tains. On the north, close beneath me, a sharp slope 
 runs down eight hundred feet to the bed of the Moque- 
 lumne river; and across the stream rises a bank as 
 sharp. Beyond this canon, Bute mountain rears its 
 round head eighteen hundred feet from the river bot 
 tom. Around the side of the Bute stretches a water 
 ditch for the gold miners ; reaching out northwest for 
 three-fourths of a mile, upon timbers from twenty to 
 eighty feet high. Turning westward, the foot hills sink 
 into the broad Sacramento valley ; which upon that 
 day was full of fog, shining like white feathery bil- 
 
MOQUELUMNE HILL. 273 
 
 lows under the clear and brilliant afternoon sun. 
 Across that cloudy sea, a hundred miles away, Mount 
 Diabolus and the Coast Range peaks lift their heads 
 island-like out of the mist ; and the waves of vapor roll 
 on toward sunset. Toward the east the eye looks over 
 fifty miles of mountain tops, as if over the roughest sea 
 of solid waves ; and in the extreme distance the Sierra 
 Nevada chain rises with many sharp, shining points, 
 whose snows glitter in the western sun, like the battle 
 ments of Eden, or some New Jerusalem let down upon 
 the earth. 
 
 Sheets of grass land, and gigantic clumps of trees 
 upon the upper part of the northern slope of the hill 
 offered an inviting place of rest ; so that I lay down 
 near the crest, and began straightway to dream. The 
 first thing I concluded was to name this peak Jennie s 
 Mountain. Then I thought of Helen and the lone 
 grave on the crag. My mind turned next to him 
 who had spent so much time with me on the sounding 
 shore of Cape Anne, wandering as I supposed at 
 that very hour somewhere among the foot-hills of the 
 Sierra. And then I thought over the strange story 
 of my contact with his pursuer in the Essex woods 
 and on the coast. I tried to recall his features. 
 
 Raising my eyes suddenly, I saw the man under a 
 tree only a few rods down the slope. There was the 
 detective standing and gazing upon me ! He wore the 
 same old cut of drab cloth, and the wide hat. I 
 marked the same breadth of shoulder and chest, and 
 well-knit frame. In one hand he held a little book; 
 
274 MOQUELUMNE HILL. 
 
 and in the other a dirty pipe, which he put to his 
 mouth when our eyes met. His face seemed harder 
 than two or three years before. 
 
 Filled with an undefinable dread, yet with a sense of 
 the necessity of finding out his exact errand, I put on 
 my best humor, 
 
 "Halloo, there, I thought you broke your pipe on 
 the Forty-foot Boulder." 
 
 "I did," he answered with a complete change of 
 countenance, and the most winning eye and voice. 
 "And if you still hate tobacco, I ll break it again, if 
 you ll come down here to chat a little." 
 
 Advancing, he pointed to the smouldering remains 
 of a camp fire, under an outcropping rock in the shade 
 of a wide-spreading tree. The spot looked so home 
 like, that I wondered I had not noticed it before, half 
 concealed as it was by a bunch of shrubs. 
 
 "I thought you had once vowed to give up your 
 small vices," said I, drawing near with awkward steps. 
 
 "I gave up vows and took vices again after I left 
 you. I decided to follow a course I knew to be 
 wrong." 
 
 " Are you still following it ? " 
 
 " Sit down ; and we will talk. I have seen no man 
 smile for many a month." 
 
 We sat beside the fire, and began to talk. When he 
 found that I felt kindly,, sympathizing with him, recog 
 nizing his better nature, that I could be his brother 
 morally, I soon drew forth his story since we parted on 
 board ship in Boston. 
 
MOQUELUMNE HILL. . 275 
 
 He had grown to be much better and much worse ; 
 both the good and the evil in him becoming stronger 
 and fiercely contending, one now the victor, then the 
 other. According to his own account, he had seasons 
 of intense wickedness ; and then would try to amend 
 his life. His small vices, he said, had been resumed ; 
 and they had grown upon him in his last months in 
 London. Under their dominion his higher aspirations 
 had slumbered, and he was more than ever fitted for ill 
 deeds. Cowley s line, 
 
 "God the first garden made, and the first city Cain," 
 
 expressed his idea of the demoralizing influence of city 
 life. 
 
 "But did not Cain kill his brother in the country?" I 
 asked. 
 
 He started suddenly, as if he saw an ill vision, and 
 looked searchingly into my eyes ; but seeing me quiet 
 as usual although I was surprised at his manner, he 
 calmly answered, after a moment s hesitation : 
 
 "It is, I suppose, one s own moral purpose, which 
 makes city or country a heaven or a hell." 
 
 His conversation seemed in very marked contrast 
 with that we had on the iron cliffs of Gloucester ; and 
 yet it was substantially the same, the same sudden al 
 ternations between hardness and tenderness. His con 
 science had gathered strength ; but his power to resist 
 it had increased. He appeared to me like one, whose 
 moral nature was constantly re-enforced from without, 
 to check the evil influences he met day by day. As we 
 
276 MOQUELUMNE HILL. 
 
 conversed, he was very tender ; and sometimes he ap 
 peared to be completely broken down by some strange 
 sorrow : again, like the sudden changes on the face of 
 the sea under clouds and winds and old storms, his 
 face and voice would indicate a wickedness which made 
 me almost wish I was not alone with him. 
 
 It took me from the early afternoon till past sunset, 
 to get little by little the account I give in a few words. 
 Whenever he grew uncommunicative, I turned the talk 
 to other topics ; and by the power of poetry, of which 
 he was very fond, or merriment, or direct appeal to his 
 moral nature, I soon got him upon the track again. 
 
 It appeared that after many months of varied work 
 and monotonous dissipation in London, he was called 
 upon by a former patron in evil work, to catch an 
 insane man wandering in a distant part of the world. 
 He described his employers as being, the one an 
 intellectual villain of great powers, another a muscular, 
 coarse, fast-lived fellow, and the third a miser ; all three 
 of high rank in society, and perhaps one or two of 
 noble blood. They gave their intended victim the 
 name of the Mad-man ; and said he was corresponding 
 with an heiress. She was so infatuated as to be likely 
 to waste all on him; although they had intercepted 
 correspondence, and tried in every way to break up the 
 strange spell. It had now become necessary for them, 
 in guarding the estate, to find the wild fellow; and 
 bring him where his insanity could be proved, and her 
 relation to him could be regulated. And the leader of 
 the trio privately signified that if the Mad-rnan, who 
 
MOQUELUMNE HILL. 277 
 
 claimed considerable piety, could be transported to 
 heaven so quietly that no law would ever disturb any 
 party concerned in the matter, it would be more accept 
 able to them and a great saving of general bother. 
 This hint was emphasized by a substantial gift. 
 
 The detective, under these circumstances, undertook 
 to find the crazy man. From the name given, and from 
 what was said of his movements, he concluded that 
 the troublesome insane fellow was none other than the 
 Wild Man he had already tracked from the Azores to 
 the Essex Woods ; and on a little inquiry, he came to 
 believe that the real jewel of which his former employer 
 had been robbed was the heart of his only child. 
 
 Coming to America, he learned that the wanderer 
 had not only been to California, as I had before in 
 formed him, but returned and gone again. Taking 
 steamer quickly as possible, he found on board a 
 New England clergyman, who professed to be acquaint 
 ed with my friend ; and who strangely confirmed the 
 Englishman s notion that the man was very often 
 wild and erratic if not insane, and moreover that he 
 was of little account, and had few friends. Upon learn 
 ing some part of the detective s errand the pastor 
 agreed to aid a little in the search, declaring that such 
 a man ought to be cared for. 
 
 The indignation I felt on hearing this story so far, 
 made me almost lose my self-control. For there was 
 something in the manner of the man, which made me 
 almost certain that he was, in some moods, ready for 
 violence ; and I was strongly impressed that some 
 
278 MOQUELUMNE HILL. 
 
 strange tragedy had actually occurred. But I was mol 
 lified a little by his account, given in the most subdued, 
 tender and broken spirit, of the power this minister 
 gained over him. It seems that the pastor made 
 straight for the foreigner s conscience ; and by a love 
 and sympathy I could hardly imagine, he so won the 
 fellow, that the man told him frankly about his frequent 
 sinnings and half repentings, and his struggles with his 
 own conscience, and even his present hesitation be 
 tween right doing and wrong. This the man-hunter 
 told me with the tears starting, 
 
 " I hate most ministers, but I love that man as if he 
 he were my brother. Still he never knew the bottom 
 of my heart. I wish I could see him now. I must see 
 him before I get out of this country." 
 
 Then he stopped, as if startled by his own words. 
 And nothing I could say or do removed in the least 
 the impressions he must have been gathering from my 
 searching and sometimes suspicious look, and from my 
 lip and brow and the tones in which I spoke. I had 
 shut the door of his lips. When we first began our 
 conversation, I had managed carefully; but as the 
 truth began to break out that he had been again with 
 dreadful commission on the track of my dearest friend, 
 I could not perfectly manage myself ; and I could not 
 therefore manage him any longer. Vexed with myself, 
 I hobbled down the hillside before daylight was gone. 
 And I thought : 
 
 " My way is my folly. Here I have just left a man 
 whose conscience is aroused, and who has, I verily 
 
MOQUELUMNE HILL. 279 
 
 believe, done some dreadful deed ; and he longs for an 
 ear into which he can pour his story. Making it my 
 business to deal with men s consciences, I know so 
 little of human nature, and have so little control of 
 myself that I have lost him." 
 
 And I remembered Him who loved even His mur 
 derers. Throwing myself upon the ground under a 
 thick shrub, I prayed for myself, and for the man on 
 the hill ; but I could not pray for him whom I loved 
 more than life, for I felt that it was too late. 
 
 Going to my room I could not rest, and could 
 not eat. With a quick purpose to follow my best im 
 pulses rather than consult prudence or law, I filled my 
 voluminous skirt pockets with edibles, and climbed the 
 hill again. The moon, in its second quarter, shone 
 upon the deserted camping place ; and I saw the 
 Englishman s white hat just disappearing a few rods 
 below. I hallooed, and he turned back. His blanket 
 and rifle were packed for travel. He asked if I was 
 alone. Catching at once his point, I broke into a loud 
 laugh, and said, 
 
 " Yes, my friend, I m not a rascal, if you are. I play 
 no tricks on travelers. Come back, and lunch with 
 me." 
 
 When he saw me take a cold chicken from one of 
 my big book-pockets, and draw bread-rolls and a bottle 
 of coffee from the other, he advanced. But I saw that 
 he kept an eye out, so that it was needful for me to 
 proceed with caution. With warm sympathies, good 
 humor, and hearty love for him as I supposed, I won 
 
280 MOQUELUMNE HILL. 
 
 him little by little, and finally told him frankly that I 
 had suspected him of foul play toward my friend. I 
 said that I was thoroughly ashamed a stray Yan 
 kee minister should gain his confidence, while I was 
 unworthy of it. 
 
 " Where," said I, " is the New Testament you had on 
 Cape Anne ? Did I see it in your hand as I came up 
 this afternoon ? " 
 
 Upon this, he produced it, stabbed almost through 
 by some sharp instrument, the mark, as he said, of 
 some brawl. Taking it, I said that my Christian love 
 could not be turned aside by any deed of man. 
 
 Knowing a cheerful camp-fire to be of prime im 
 portance in thawing him out and making us one for the 
 hour, I piled on the stumps and dead limbs till the 
 night was light round about us. We conversed till 
 midnight and he told me the rest of his story, talking 
 quite freely and connectedly most of the time. The 
 clergyman, it seems, told him to search in the moun 
 tains where the Wild Man would wander alone in the 
 summer. And having, as the pursuer had, a thorough 
 taste for mountain adventure, he entered eagerly upon 
 the chase. 
 
 He traversed the "silent sea of pines" about the 
 base of peaks whose tops pierce the clouds ; and then 
 tracked his victim into the most inaccessible fastnesses 
 of the Sierra, and there hunted him as a wild beast 
 upon the mountains. The cool domes and white 
 towers, pinnacles and spires, obelisks and sharp nee 
 dles, offered a difficult country. He often found him- 
 
MOQUELUMNE HILL. 281 
 
 self apparently close upon the Mad-man. And for a 
 long time he tried the plan of coming up with him, 
 hoping, as he said, to persuade him to ship for Eng 
 land; but the wild climber was unapproachable as 
 a mountain goat or eagle. If the detective had doubt 
 ed whether his game was mad, he came firmly to 
 believe that nothing but insanity or demoniacal posses 
 sion could enable one to flit about in perfect safety 
 among the most terrific crags and chasms as he did. 
 Indeed, I began myself to think that the wild wan 
 derer must have been truly mad. 
 
 The hunter, sleeping night after night amid desola 
 tion, disturbed only by the sullen sound of the ava 
 lanche, and spending the day in clambering up or down 
 precipices, almost lost his own reason in the excite 
 ment of the chase. He was sometimes led by the 
 promise of speedy success to go too far from his sup 
 plies; and in returning would lose the track for a 
 time. His morning walks were often interrupted by 
 the fall of rocks crumbling off the high cliffs, or the 
 loosening of boulders rolling down the mountain side. 
 Toward evening the dark and frowning brows of 
 mountain walls gathered deeper darkness, and he could 
 see the night approaching from the east, and settling 
 down over the deep valleys. Often, when he lay down 
 to rest, the frost began to pry off fragments from 
 abrupt ledges far above him. One night, just before 
 the detective left the mountains, when a short snow 
 storm was warning him away, he heard the whole range 
 roaring, one sharp peak after another shooting its 
 
282 MOQUELUMNE HILL. 
 
 avalanche into the depths below. Just before morning 
 a torrent of ice and snow slid swiftly down a smooth 
 granite roof, and rushed off the eaves, over the preci 
 pice under which he was lying ; but the overhanging of 
 the rock saved him from being buried. 
 
 He had, at no point, obtained a very near view of 
 his wild prey; and now, for some time, had so utterly 
 lost the trace, that he began to think the lunatic had 
 perished in the mountains. But as he was moving 
 about on the sharp roofs of the wall of the Ahwahne 
 valley, having now fairly given up the search, he saw 
 the Mad-man sitting upon a spike of granite, which 
 pushed out from the brink. His legs were dangling 
 over the awful abyss ; and he sat with a book in his 
 hand, apparently absorbed in it. 
 
 " And this," said he, " was the last time I saw him." 
 
 The latter part of the story had been told with so 
 much nervousness, and hesitation and gloomy anticipa 
 tion, as if everything was coming to a crisis, he 
 having his eyes cast down and I mine, that when he 
 said he had seen my friend no more, I could have 
 shrieked with terror. He was evidently prepared for 
 some sudden revulsion of feeling on my part : for he 
 looked up when I did, and as our eyes met, I thought I 
 never before saw Goth, Vandal, and Hun in modern 
 figure. Perhaps he would have told me more, if, at the 
 critical moment I could have endured it and with 
 loving hand led him on : but how could I love a fiend ? 
 I broke down completely, and he held me off, 
 
 " I can tell vou no more." 
 
MOQUELUMNE HILL. 283 
 
 I think I must have fallen into a stupor : for when I 
 came to myself, I was moving upon his strong back 
 near the bottom of the hill next the town. And he 
 placed me upon the ground tenderly, saying, 
 
 " I am sorry for you. Good night." 
 
284 THE LIVE OAKS. 
 
 XXIV. 
 THE LIVE OAKS. 
 
 I WAS ^completely unmanned, and incapable of 
 motion. My only thought was : Have I been 
 spending a day and a night with the murderer of 
 my most intimate friend? I knew nothing; and had 
 no means of proving anything; but I felt satisfied 
 about it. The cold of the night soon pierced me. I 
 went home to sleep through weight of sorrow, and to 
 dream of wild mountains and the hunted man, and to 
 wake forming ill plans. I thought that in the very 
 early dawning, I would send a few friends to search the 
 country. But v with daylight I came to a better purpose ; 
 feeling very decidedly and clearly that his aroused 
 conscience would arrest the Englishman sooner than 
 the law could catch him. 
 
 I went to the camp again, now deserted ; and there 
 prayed for him, and that I myself might have practical 
 wisdom in the circumstances. Returning home I slept 
 some time; and then made my arrangements to go 
 down into the valley that night to reach the coast 
 before next steamer day. 
 
 After nightfall, I mounted a pony, rode till the moon 
 
THE LIVE OAKS. 285 
 
 went down, and then for a time went forward in the 
 darkness. I was well down upon the plains toward 
 Stockton, riding among the enormous trees, which 
 standing apart leave open spaces of greensward, a 
 sight by daylight or moonlight like old English parks 
 long cultivated. By the stars I could still make out 
 the trees in the roadway. But a storm was gathering; 
 and it became so dark, that I could hardly keep the 
 path in the rich, black soil. I turned out into the 
 timber to find, a place to sleep a little, that I might with 
 early dawning go forward to the down river boat. 
 
 My pony began to shy and stop and snort. Quick 
 as thought, I leaped to the ground upon my sound 
 ankle; and half smothering the nose of my beast, 
 quieted him, and led him back a little. My ears were 
 now filled with sounds of distress, from out the dark 
 ness. Little by little, I crept toward the voice; and 
 soon found myself close to a deserted cabin. Within 
 it a man was crying out with shrieks of agony, 
 
 "I killed him, I killed him. He dropped from his 
 perch like a stricken bird." 
 
 And then the man seemed to be pacing rapidly 
 across the room in the darkness. No light shone 
 through the chinks in the wall. He suddenly stood 
 still ; and poured out words that sent the blood to my 
 heart and then to my finger tips : 
 
 "I believe there is some one listening." 
 
 And then he answered himself, "Be still you fool: 
 it was only your own heart beating." 
 
 Then he walked the floor again. 
 
2 THE LIVE OAKS. 
 
 " Oh ! I did not mean to kill him. I was half mad 
 when I did it. I did not mean to kill him: no, not 
 with my rifle." 
 
 And he stood still : 
 
 "Yes, you did: you meant to shoot so near, that he 
 would fall, through sudden alarm." 
 
 Then I heard a sharp cry : 
 
 "What! is that you, mother? Are you praying for 
 me yet? Old gray haired woman, I thought you were 
 dead long ago." 
 
 And he flung himself upon the floor : then rose and 
 walked calmly, saying, 
 
 "Yes, I saw from the valley below his body far up 
 the cliff, half hanging on a shelf of rock." 
 
 Next, he changed his posture, and I heard him 
 praying, 
 
 "O God of my mother!" 
 
 But that was all he could say; and he said it over 
 many times in a quiet voice as if he was at rest. Im 
 mediately he started up again with a wild cry, 
 
 "I wish God was not so far off. I wish I could see 
 Christ. If He would only come and put his hand on 
 me, and love me, I would tell him all." 
 
 Then he was silent : but soon I heard the voice of 
 prayer, 
 
 "Oh, my sympathizing Saviour, I believe in you; 
 because my mother did, and because the pastor did on 
 board ship. He was the only one who has loved me 
 since I was a little child. And he told me that you 
 loved me. I believe him: and I believe you. Now, I 
 
THE LIVE OAKS. 287 
 
 want to tell you all about it. Ever since I refused to 
 pray with my mother, I have been worse and worse ; 
 till now my hands are red." 
 
 And then he rose and shrieked, 
 " My hands are red ! My hands are red ! " 
 After a moment, he became suddenly still, as if 
 listening ; for he whispered, 
 
 "Some one must have heard me. I must get out of 
 this." 
 
 He struck a light. And I crept away, nimbly as I 
 could. My whole frame so trembled with excitement, 
 that I felt no more fit to face him than a babe would 
 be ready to contend with a tiger. I am ashamed ; but 
 I went away. I could not see that man again. It was 
 a little before day break, and the darkness was very 
 dense; but I found the road, and moved on toward 
 Stockton. After going a long distance, the full light 
 now streaming from the east, I sat down under a big 
 oak, determined that I would give up the boat that 
 day, and seek for the stained Englishman : who was, I 
 began to fear, going mad through the accusations of 
 conscience. Giving my horse a long tether, he began 
 grazing, I kindled a little fire, and, after breaking my 
 fast, leaned against the oak, and read here and there 
 in the Gospels. Prostrate upon my face, I prayed long 
 for the miserable man in the cabin; and that I might 
 have grace and energy to meet him, and wisdom to 
 guide him. 
 
 "I ought to have had the nerve and heart, to have 
 met the man on the lonely threshold, with open arms 
 and with the name of a loving Christ." 
 
288 THE LIVE OAKS. 
 
 "Yes, I think you ought," said a voice close beside 
 me. 
 
 And looking up, I saw the man standing with pack 
 and rifle. 
 
 "You stood by the old cabin, last night," said he. 
 "I found your trail." 
 
 " I ought to have broken in upon you, or met you at 
 the door," I answered. 
 
 " It is well you did not ; for I was in a strange mood 
 then. You would have been hardly safe." 
 
 " I would have met you with the name that is above 
 every name, and God s own word of full forgiveness." 
 
 "Yes, I know it all, the old story. But I am not 
 ready for that. I will first meet human law ; then see 
 if there is any divine mercy." 
 
 I began opening my Testament; but he interrupted 
 me: 
 
 " I do not believe that you and I can get on together. 
 Your Christian love is too easily turned away from 
 such a fellow as I am. Your best thoughts seem to be 
 second thoughts, too late. I want to talk with a man 
 whose first impulses are always warm towards the worst 
 of men. I must leave you now. If I do not find the 
 Yankee minister, I may send for you when I am once 
 safely housed by justice." 
 
 Hastily waving his hand, I saw him no more. 
 
 Unexpected business occupied me in San Francisco, 
 till ship after ship steamed for Panama. But on the day 
 I left the country, I went to the top of Telegraph Hill 
 
THE LIVE OAKS. 289 
 
 to take one more look at the wonderful panorama there 
 unfolded ; and whom should I see but my wild, hunted, 
 slain, insane friend, enjoying the prospect hugely. I 
 had already heard of his safety. With the most hearty 
 laugh, he amused me for five minutes, telling what a 
 chase he had led the villain ; and how, seeing him 
 about to fire, he dropped off his seat to a ledge below, 
 knowing that the huntsman was not sure footed and 
 cool headed enough to come to the edge to search for 
 him. He was about to tell me more, and to tell me of 
 his new projects of work ; but he was suddenly called 
 away by a messenger. And, first leaving a letter full 
 of questions, and some account of my adventures with 
 his pursuer, I sailed for the East without seeing 
 Cephas again. 
 
 Next morning, going early on deck, I saw the Eng 
 lishman, sitting well forward, looking over his dagger- 
 pierced Testament; and when he slowly turned his 
 face, not yet seeing me, I saw that he had been weep 
 ing. I instantly walked that way, saying, in a kind but 
 half jocular voice : 
 
 " Good morning, Sir. I am glad to meet you. I see 
 you are not hanged yet; and I met your Mad-man yes 
 terday, all the better for his trip to the mountains." 
 
 For a moment, his face kindled with a smile, and 
 then it relapsed into a settled sadness, which he kept 
 all the voyage. I learned that when he left the Live 
 Oaks he moved warily; but went soon to San Fran 
 cisco, fully determined to give himself into the hands 
 of the law, and to confess all. But he happily met his 
 ii 
 
290 THE LIVE OAKS. 
 
 clerical friend of the outward voyage, and into the ears 
 of this friendly parson, he poured the account of his 
 wicked adventures. But the minister told him his vic 
 tim was living. And, to make short the long story, 
 the details of which I heard at intervals during many 
 days, the hand of love led the misguided man to his 
 mother s Saviour, and the very peace of God. But the 
 joy of our faith could not yet kindle in his heart ; at 
 least not enough to dispel the sadness which a sense 
 of sin had stamped on his face. Night after night, as 
 we coursed the shining waves of a tropical sea, we 
 walked the deck by moonlight, holding sweet commun 
 ion together. My own faith and love grew stronger; 
 and I learned a lesson in the business of winning men 
 to Christ. 
 
ERECTING THE AIR CASTLES. 291 
 
 XXV. 
 
 ERECTING THE AIR CASTLES. 
 
 next letter I received from Cephas, told me 
 that he was himself the New England pastor, who 
 met the detective on the ship in going to Cali 
 fornia; that he disguised himself, and led his pursuer 
 strange routes week after week. He met the scamp 
 after his return to the Bay, and tried to do him good ; 
 but did not tell him the secret. From the English 
 man s story, he concluded that the guardians of Helen s 
 property might be the ones who had sent for him ; and 
 it was their fault, not her s, that he had heard nothing 
 from her directly. This theory, however, he had no 
 means of substantiating. The detective had never 
 seen Helen, and knew nothing of the circumstances of 
 the family. This letter from Cephas was written on 
 Telegraph Hill, overlooking the bright waters of the 
 Bay and the ships sailing in and out of the Golden 
 Gate. My friend was rejoicing in what he called per 
 fect health, and entering his work with a bound. 
 Already, new. churches and schools, and schemes of 
 moral agitation were passing in vision before his eyes. 
 And when, as the months rolled by, I had so far 
 
292 ERECTING THE AIR CASTLES. 
 
 caught Cephas missionary spirit as to leave my home 
 by the sea and undertake work upon the rugged back 
 bone of this continent, in a village, I beg pardon of 
 all Western men, it was a "city," half tilted up on 
 mountain crags and half tumbled into ravines, I used 
 often to get letters from my friend, in which were glow 
 ing accounts of a new college begun on paper. One 
 day, as I sat in a cosey nook of a wild ridge facing the 
 saw-teeth mountains of the west, I read quite an elab 
 orate document, which really looked as if Cephas New 
 Education would have a fair chance to be tested. The 
 school was located with some property, and plenty of 
 wise men to manage it. 
 
 Upon another day, when I was weary with gazing 
 on hillsides aflame with flowers, and tracing the course 
 of swift streams over polished rocks, whose bright 
 colored veins shone like beds of jasper, topaz and 
 emerald, I sat down under a cottonwood to read 
 again and again Cephas letters. These told me of the 
 energy with which he was pursuing his studies ; devour 
 ing boxes of books, and making notes upon a thousand 
 bits of paper ; filling up his pigeon-holes with material 
 for future work. And he began to thank God for 
 triumphs of coming years, much as the three Spaniards 
 praised Him before they left home, for the victories 
 they were yet to gain in the conquest of Peru. 
 
 One day I received a strange paper from Cephas. I 
 did not then know whether he meant to send it to me, 
 or whether it came by accident through his directing 
 the wrong envelope and sending me certain notes de- 
 
ERECTING THE AIR CASTLES. 293 
 
 signed for his pigeon-holes. That it might have been 
 by accident, seems now the more likely, since I have 
 lately found among his manuscripts a letter never re 
 ceived, marked on the back, "Shagbark in the rocks." 
 He had probably interchanged the papers. By the 
 notes I received, I learned what keen hours of joy he 
 had in carrying all his pet plans to God. 
 
 " Here was one," says the manuscript, " who in his 
 out door praying, used to climb about among the pock 
 ets of wild crags or on a mountain side in the night, 
 when his neighbors could not see his wanderings. He 
 said, somewhat quaintly, that many passages of Scrip 
 ture came to mind with peculiar freshness, * Let thine 
 eyes look right on, and thine eyelids straight before 
 thee. Ponder the path of thy feet, and let all thy ways 
 be established. Turn not to the right hand or to the 
 left. And he said, I will take heed to my ways. 
 Slippery places, the ways of darkness, and stumbling 
 among the mountains, were phrases that came to the 
 mind of him who said, He maketh my feet like hind s 
 feet, and setteth me upon my high places. And he 
 asked that God would give his angels charge over him, 
 lest at any time he should dash his foot against a stone. 
 Such imagery and such prayers as were suggested to 
 David when he was at home among rocky hills, came to 
 his mind. 
 
 " Nor can it be said that such a course is needlessly 
 eccentric. The Saviour himself visited high places in 
 the night. And if one has very urgent business with 
 God, he will not greatly err in rising a great while 
 
294 ERECTING THE AIR CASTLES. 
 
 before it is day to go away and talk with him ; and to 
 do it in such place as he may find most secluded, and 
 most suggestive of God s immediate presence. 
 
 " Sometimes by day, this mountaineer could go a 
 little further from the town ; and wandering long in the 
 trackless wilds, now sitting, now rising, now walking, 
 now prostrate, he said, Thou knowest my downsit- 
 ting and mine uprising ; * * Thou compassest my path, 
 and my lying down, and art acquainted with all my 
 ways. He felt that God as a person knew every step 
 he took, every emotion he felt, and every word he 
 uttered. In those great solitudes where Nature was 
 mighty and men were few, he asked, * Shall any man 
 feel lonely with Almighty God by his side ? 
 
 " As, he said, I am climbing about mountain 
 crags, secreting myself in every crevice, crying unto 
 God and praising Him, the words of the Psalms come 
 wonderfully to mind, and I call God my Rock. These 
 ledges suggest to me the Rock of Ages. Amid castle 
 rocks and towers that rise on the sides of the moun 
 tains, I call God my Tower, where I take refuge. I 
 find in him new tokens of kindness, peculiar adaptation 
 to my personal wants, day by day ; and I emphasize 
 the pronoun as I cry, my Rock, my Tower. I know 
 that I am so guilty, that I ought to cry to rock and 
 mountain to fall upon me to hide me from the face of 
 God; but when I remember that day in which the 
 rocks were rent in sympathy with my dying Saviour, I 
 can but go frankly to God, and use the words that 
 he himself put into the mouth of the prophet David 
 
ERECTING THE AIR CASTLES. 295 
 
 who was a sinner like me ; and with that penitent for 
 given man I am ready to praise God day and night, 
 calling upon rock and hill, water brooks and fir-trees, 
 valley and mountain to praise the Lord with me, as I 
 sit in the secret places of the hills. 
 
 "Let me ask, my friend, whether it is not suitable 
 for every Christian to come into league with the stones 
 of the field and with all the powers of nature, that 
 upon many a natural altar, upon all the memorable 
 rocks in his region, under every fine shade, upon all 
 high hills, in all deep ravines, and by all streams, he 
 may frequently renew his consecration to God. Moses 
 was intimate with Him whom no man hath seen nor 
 can see : if we are often in rocky clefts, shall we not 
 behold some part of the ineffable glory ? May we not 
 commune with the Lord upon hill tops, obtaining the 
 revelation of His will and favors for the perishing mil 
 lions?" 
 
 In a mining country Cephas thought himself the man 
 of luck if he could suddenly disappear in a driving 
 snow storm, and enter some desolate house in a distant 
 mountain ravine ; or if he could find his way into some 
 decaying stamp mill among deserted mines, where he 
 could make himself at home without fear of molesta 
 tion, and pound out gold all day. His people might 
 have called him wild if they had known his habits, 
 but the gold he took out was more precious than all 
 they could dig from their deep shafts, or wash from the 
 streams ; and his searching the promises of God, as if 
 they had been veins of silver, was making him wealthy. 
 
296 ERECTING THE AIR CASTLES. 
 
 He asked Him who giveth every good and perfect gift, 
 for a blessing upon the country he lived in, spiritual 
 benediction worth more to it than all treasure in moun 
 tain and mine, wheatfield and garden, vine and fruit. 
 
 "Whenever there comes a blinding storm," wrote 
 Cephas, " I seize upon it as the choicest boon possible, 
 since it makes a solitude everywhere. Whether one is 
 shut in on a prairie alone, or enclosed amid high moun 
 tains shaggy with forests and threatening with over 
 hanging ledges and boulders, or walking close by the 
 sea with the waves on one side and rough rocks on the 
 other side, a snow storm is always a veil shutting off 
 distant prospects ; leaving one alone with God and the 
 great forces of nature. Even when you pass through a 
 village, the snow so fills the air that you hardly notice 
 the houses ; and if on a forest road you meet a snow- 
 clad teamster, he looks so like a storm spirit that your 
 thoughts are not turned from their course ; and your 
 own beard and clothing are so filled and covered with 
 the fast falling winter, that you hardly know yourself as 
 a man ; you heed only the spiritual world. If you 
 choose to lie down upon a bed of snow in the woods 
 with your face upward, and see and feel fine snow 
 falling fast upon you, it will be but little while before 
 you think for the moment that you are a part of the 
 system of nature around you; and find yourself liable 
 to be buried in the snow like a fallen tree. It is when 
 a man gets so out of himself, out of the common rut 
 his mind runs in, and has some fresh and strange ex 
 perience, that he is most awake to spiritual impressions 
 
ERECTING THE AIR CASTLES. 297 
 
 and is best prepared to commune with Him who de 
 lights to make it slorm in the season for tempest." 
 
 It was upon such days that the Wild Man with the 
 Shagbark plodded all day. I shall never forget the 
 impression made upon me by these revelations of my 
 friend s habits of life in a new country. I became 
 fully confident that his old-time dreams of great useful 
 ness in laying the foundations of many generations 
 would be now fulfilled. He was a hard student ; thor 
 oughly practical in managing affairs, painstaking in de 
 tails, wise in counsel, farsighted in making plans, and 
 he had the solitary habits of a Hebrew prophet. 
 
THE EARTHQUAKE S SHOCK. 
 
 XXVI. 
 THE EARTHQUAKE S SHOCK. 
 
 AS the months went by, I learned much about the 
 effects of dry mountain air in a country almost 
 cloudless for a large part of the year, air sweet 
 to the taste and stimulating like wine, giving one the 
 sense that he is inhaling new energy, an atmosphere 
 quickening to the nervous activity, intensifying the life 
 and preparing unwise men, who allow themselves no 
 respite, and disregard the common conditions of lon 
 gevity, to break down suddenly. I was expecting, 
 therefore, to hear that Cephas in like climate had over 
 worked; and I was preparing to see his face, the face 
 of an invalid. I had heard nothing from him for more, 
 than half a year. What I next learned was this : 
 
 " He hath stripped me of my glory, and taken the 
 crown from my head. I have undertaken more than I 
 can do, and have fallen under it. I am compelled to 
 get out of the country altogether, physically unequal to 
 the work. A veto is put upon all further personal 
 experimenting in this line. Henceforth I must desist 
 from works possible only to the strong, and mend my 
 broken body. All I can now look for is to do pastoral 
 
THE EARTHQUAKE S SHOCK. 299 
 
 work with small care, and devote myself to my studies. 
 This is the heaviest blow of my life, putting an end 
 to the sleeping and waking dream of all my years. 
 Nothing has so completely wrecked me mind and body 
 since Helen s death. 
 
 "I cannot so truly say that Providence has balked 
 my plans, as that I have done it. I will hedge up thy 
 way with thorns/ is not in this case so much the voice 
 from heaven, as my own. Our actions, says Goethe, 
 equally with our sufferings, clog the course of our 
 lives. I can see my own lack of judgment and my 
 own blunders, which have led to this result. If you 
 have endured baseness of soul, impute not the fault to 
 the gods. 
 
 "The formation of unreasonable expectations mis 
 calculation, error in judgment, is probably the ulti 
 mate ground of all my sorrows. I have known so little 
 of the usual course of divine providence that I have 
 made impracticable schemes. My knowledge of human 
 nature has not been sufficient to prevent my being 
 buoyed up by vain expectations, the failure of which 
 has sunk me the deeper in difficulty. The most pru 
 dent man has numberless regrets ; and there are many, 
 wise and unwise, who finally face the fact that life-long 
 projects are overthrown by mistakes that could have 
 been easily avoided. It is these disappointments we 
 prepare for ourselves, which act as make-weight, turn 
 ing the scale, in the physical crisis of life. My failure 
 of health is most complete ; the nervous exhaustion of 
 long continued, highly exciting and severe labor, being 
 
300 THE EARTHQUAKE S SHOCK. 
 
 now accompanied by a general fall of all my Air Cas 
 tles as if by the Shock of an Earthquake. 
 
 "Today I have read Luther, where he says, *I can 
 not guide myself, and yet would fain guide the world ! 
 Many a time I have made fine articles and rules, and 
 brought them to our Lord God to guide Him. But the 
 good God has let me see in the end how all my master 
 ing has come to nothing. I feel satisfied, however, 
 that this is excellent discipline. If we make mistakes 
 in solving the problem of life, our very blundering may 
 teach us to exercise more care. If we learn to know 
 our errors and gain a little wisdom, we shall be better 
 prepared for a higher life. Surely our Father loves us 
 none the less for our blundering and the schooling we 
 get from it. My friend Nellie writes, I am very 
 grateful to Providence for giving me a stage of exis 
 tence in which to learn how to live. I suppose we 
 should feel infinitely more disappointed, if we had to 
 make all our missteps in a higher plane of existence/ 
 All I can do in these dark hours is to use the words of 
 old time, Cause me to know the way wherein I 
 should walk, for I lift up my soul unto Thee. 
 
 " Yet, on the whole, I am bearing my new burden 
 cheerfully. And when I forget my feelings and settle 
 down to think, I appreciate the wise saw which de 
 clares that Life is a comedy to those who think, and a 
 tragedy to those who feel. " 
 
 After some weeks, in which I heard npthing further 
 from my friend, I received a communication from one 
 
THE EARTHQUAKE S SHOCK. 301 
 
 of the members of his church in California, which re 
 vealed a tragedy little looked for. 
 
 The pastor had been to Humboldt Bay to rest. One 
 morning after a storm, a vessel was discovered over 
 turned in the harbor. Cephas went with others to see 
 if relief was needed. Climbing up the side of the 
 schooner s bottom, a sound was heard, as if some one 
 in the hold was feebly pounding to attract attention. 
 As soon as axes could do the work, an opening was 
 made ; and a living child about two years old was found 
 in the arms of a mother just dead. The mother had 
 managed to get a position with the upper part of her 
 body out of water, which filled the vessel except about 
 two feet next the bottom ; and the child had been so 
 secured that he should not fall. Then with an old 
 mustard-pot in her hand the woman had been pounding 
 to make an alarm, if any one by chance should come to 
 the rescue. The last sounds she made were heard by 
 the boatmen ; her dying strength had been given to the 
 blows, and she was dead when Cephas laid hold to lift 
 out the body. The child had a tin rattle in his hand. 
 He bore his mother s features; and she was the very 
 image of the dead Helen. 
 
 "This is my Helen," said Cephas, as the body was 
 placed in the boat. 
 
 The burial service took place under a giant red 
 wood ; and there the remains now rest. A tablet is 
 placed upon the tree, " In memory of one with face 
 and figure like Helen." 
 
 The body of another passenger was found, thought 
 
302 THE EARTHQUAKE S SHOCK. 
 
 by the boatmen to be most likely a younger brother 
 of the dead mother. From some articles probably 
 theirs, it appeared that they were English people. Not 
 one of the coaster s crew survived. The little child 
 was cared for by a settler s wife, and then placed in a 
 family in San Francisco: he is now standing by my 
 side as I write. The shock of this wreck and the 
 rescue, and the rising of the face of the dead and the 
 child image added to the nervous prostration under 
 which my friend had been for some time suffering 
 resulted in a mental state so morbid, that my corre 
 spondent described it as more than semi-madness. It 
 seemed impossible to divert his mind ; and there was 
 some danger of a complete overthrow of the intellect 
 if a decisive change did not take place at once. It 
 was under these circumstances that Cephas left the 
 country, and came to my home in Colorado. 
 
 I found him in my study one day, upon my return 
 from Rogers Hill. He was reading; and when he 
 raised his face at my incoming, I could see that my 
 friend of the past was no more: here was a man new 
 to me; almost shattered, as I thought at the time. 
 A day or two, however, sufficed to give a new tone to 
 his talk. Within a week I could see that the memory 
 of former days and living contact with an intimate 
 friend was giving him a fresh hold on living. His will 
 gained such strength before a month was over, that he 
 began to master himself and look on the side of hope 
 and life. 
 
 One day we went to the cabin of a devout old man, 
 
THE EARTHQUAKE S SHOCK. 303 
 
 who lived in a lonely gulch, which had been badly torn 
 by the miners and left in desolation. The noble face 
 of the grayhaired saint met us at the door; he had a 
 Bible in his hand. Entering, we found that the little 
 hut, perhaps twelve feet by twenty, was divided into 
 four or five apartments. First going through a sort of 
 woodshed, we turned to the right into a back passage 
 way leading to the workshop, then wheeled round to 
 the right again so as to walk in the direction whence 
 we came, and entered a minute kitchen. There was 
 just room enough for a small stove, an office-chair well 
 cushioned, shelves for dishes, and a little cuddy for 
 provisions. Four feet by five is too large a measure 
 ment for the room as I remember it. Stepping across 
 the kitchen, we came into the front parlor, just five feet 
 square, with a narrow bench running around it. 
 
 " This room," said our host, " I built on purpose to 
 hold prayer meetings in." 
 
 We sat down, and held a prayer meeting; two or 
 three gathered in the name of the Lord. The old man 
 still had his thumb in the Bible, as when we met him 
 at the door. He had awaked that morning with a 
 feeling of great anxiety about some vexing thing un 
 known to me; and so he had taken the Bible, begin 
 ning at Genesis to turn the leaves, to find in Old 
 Testament story those texts which just met his want at 
 the hour ; it being now ten o clock, his book was open 
 at Isaiah. Patriarchs and psalmists, and the Voice of 
 God, had been heard in his dwelling since break of 
 day. And when he stood up to pray, with face looking 
 
304 THE EARTHQUAKE S SHOCK. 
 
 upward, I never saw him kneel, it was like the 
 pleading of one of the ancient prophets. There was a 
 wild rhapsody, not always connected and making what 
 we call good sense, but always a great sense of man s 
 sinfulness and nothingness, and the holiness and great 
 ness of the Infinite Majesty. God was so exalted in 
 his prayers, that the half hour seemed short, like a 
 moment of standing by Ezekiel in time of vision. 
 
 Before our going out, this man of four score drew 
 aside a curtain on the wall, that we might see his sleep 
 ing place. It was built like a ship s berth, such as he 
 used to occupy in his boyhood days of sea-faring. 
 When we were leaving the house, untying our ponies 
 and leading them across the ravine, this lonely man 
 who commonly kept company with prophets and guar 
 dian angels, went with us a little distance. As we 
 were about to part he stood still : pointing to the loose 
 boulders about us, to the ragged heads of the moun 
 tains, and to certain snow clad peaks in the distance, 
 he waved his hand, saying, 
 
 " Everything you see is motive power. These rocks 
 and mountains are to be used in crushing rocks and 
 mountains. The Sierra Mad re will crumble under 
 machinery, moved perpetually by dead weight." 
 
 His eye kindled, and he raised both hands above his 
 bare head; and, looking earnestly into my face, he 
 added, 
 
 " I have a secret which will level the everlasting hills, 
 and pound them into powder. I may not see it, but I 
 have the idea; and it will revolutionize the world." 
 
THE EARTHQUAKE S SHOCK. 35 
 
 Riding over the top of the next ridge, I told Cephas 
 of a great favor once shown me, when this inventor 
 took me into the largest and fairest apartment of his 
 cabin, where he experimented upon a machine which 
 would never cease to move when once started with 
 dead weight applied in the right place, and whose 
 power would be limitless as the weight of the earth. 
 He had promised to tell me sometime the principle 
 upon which it was based, lest the secret die with him. 
 And, indeed, sometime after, he came to my house to 
 explain it, as a mark of peculiar confidence, so that I 
 now have the old man s legacy with which to bless the 
 world. Forty years had not been enough to perfect 
 the machine. 
 
 When we reached the top of Quartz Hill, a sudden 
 squall came sweeping down upon us. Through the 
 thin veil we could see the white heads of the Great 
 Range hardly ten miles away. The falling flakes 
 concealed the sky the ordinary background of the 
 mountains and obscured the distance between us 
 and the hoary peaks; so that it seemed as if these 
 massive neighbors had come close to us through the 
 storm, their apparent height vastly increased by the 
 removal of the blue sky over their heads. Often, as I 
 sit in my study, I live over again that magical moment, 
 in which summer turned to winter, the ground whit 
 ened, and the Rocky Range advanced upon us, in a few 
 seconds of time. 
 
 " I am just like that old man," said Cephas with his 
 wintry beard. " The idea he has in his brain seems of 
 
306 THE EARTHQUAKE S SHOCK. 
 
 unspeakable import to him; but who else thinks so? 
 I have been dreaming for years that I have an educa 
 tional idea which will revolutionize the world." 
 
 Then he told me how he had made everything ready 
 to establish firmly the new education ; but by imperfect 
 knowledge of men, lack of judgment, by the fault of 
 others, and through ill health, the whole thing now 
 existed on paper only, and could not live except 
 through his work, now ended or deferred for years 
 when the favorable hour would be past. When his 
 story was ended, I assumed the part of Theresa Panza, 
 and addressed him as follows: 
 
 "Without founding a new education your mother, 
 Sancho, brought you into the world; without founding 
 a new education you have lived till now; and without it 
 you will be carried to your grave whenever it shall 
 please God. How many folks are there in the world, 
 who have founded no new education ; and yet they live 
 and are reckoned among the people." 
 
 Taking up the cue of Cervantes, my friend Cephas 
 Sancho answered, 
 
 " I tell you that did I not expect, ere long, to see 
 myself the founder of a college after my own heart, I 
 vow I should drop down dead upon the spot." 
 
 "How many dollars," I asked, "have you salted 
 down for making an endowment in your will, according 
 to your old project." 
 
 "Not one," he replied. 
 
 Bitter tears, distilled by years of hard contending 
 with poverty and disappointment, filled his eyes as he 
 
THE EARTHQUAKE S SHOCK. 307 
 
 told me of pecuniary embarrassments, which weighed 
 upon him with peculiar force in hours of physical 
 weakness. He had, however, managed to hold his 
 right in the old house and land of his childhood, the 
 crag and grave by the sea ; and the rocky farm was fast 
 rising in value, since the Island Home had been fre 
 quented as a sea-side resort. He hoped there would 
 be the means of making his estate square with the 
 world, if he should lie down suddenly to sleep by the 
 side of Helen : there might also be a balance by which 
 to fulfil the compound interest miracle, and establish a 
 big college within a few centuries. But he assured me 
 that this vision had been sadly disturbed by acquaint 
 ance with the ways of the world. 
 
 "The genius of our laws is against the principle of 
 tying up property for the sole use of some future gene 
 ration," said he. "Courts object to having money 
 lie idle. The larger part of it must do present and 
 constant service. Only a fraction of the interest can 
 accumulate, and that for only a limited time. In Eng 
 land where great estates were no to be divided for a 
 century, the House of Lords broke the will, because in 
 a hundred years all the floating capital in the country 
 would be absorbed by it. I don t, however, think that 
 any legislature will interfere to break my will lest it 
 interrupt the business of the nation. 
 
 "As I think of all this, now, I remember an old 
 dream of walking in New York city. I had to go about 
 five miles. In order to have a convenient piece of fur 
 niture to lie down on, as I should certainly want to 
 
308 THE EARTHQUAKE S SHOCK. 
 
 before returning, I took along a settee. Lest some boy 
 steal it, if I should leave it by the way, I tied one end 
 of a small cable to it and made the other end secure 
 down town. So I walked with the settee under my arm 
 uncoiling the cable for about three miles and a half; 
 then climbed over a wall, sat down upon my settee in 
 an orchard, and there left it till my return. In this 
 dream I had not the slightest sense of incongruity. I 
 seemed to myself to be taking a perfectly rational 
 course. 
 
 "In like manner, all my carefully elaborated plans 
 for making millions of money, by leaving a small sum 
 to trustees for a school several hundred years hence, 
 once seemed to me exactly the thing, a capital idea, 
 one likely to revolutionize society. But on mingling 
 with the world I find that I was dreaming in the forest 
 of Tragabigzanda. 
 
 "This confession holds, however, only in regard to 
 this peculiar method of bringing it all about. The idea 
 itself of the new education is as sound as ever it was. 
 I feel just as sure that it is a good thing, as our friend 
 down the hill does of his machine for perpetual mo 
 tion. I have been thwarted in setting this project 
 on foot. But if I ever regain my health, I ll try it 
 again. And if I don t succeed, I shall certainly be 
 the richer in soul for having tried to do something 
 worthy." 
 
 It was some days before this topic was alluded to 
 again. We were in my study. And Cephas read aloud 
 the saying of Loyola, " If perchance the Society, 
 
THE EARTHQUAKE S SHOCK. 309 
 
 which I have begun and furthered with such toil, 
 should be dissolved or perish, after passing half an 
 hour in prayer, I should, by God s help, have no trouble 
 from this thing, than which none sadder could befall 
 me." 
 
 " This is my prevailing feeling," added Cephas, " in 
 regard to the ways in which I have tried to serve God 
 and man. He whom I consult knows what is best. I 
 sometimes think that all we get out of life is our per 
 sonal discipline. Walk before me, and be thou per 
 fect, is good advice for us as for Abraham. It is 
 better to spend life in trying to fulfil that ideal than to 
 spend it in fretting about God s unfulfilled promises. 
 He will do all things well, as we shall see in due time ; 
 meantime, we are to try to do all things well." 
 
 One day, Cephas said he hoped sometime to hear 
 from Nellie in England, and that through her help the 
 college plan would triumph. 
 
 His mind was subject to great fluctuation of feeling ; 
 hours of faith alternating with moments of dejection. 
 Once full of great purposes, his life was now perplexed 
 under common cares. His high ideals seemed to be 
 sinking like a great range of mountains, " lost moun 
 tains" with bases deeply concealed, barely showing 
 their heads above interminable beds of sand or alkali 
 desert. This indication of mental weakness alarmed 
 me. 
 
 Four or five months, however, toned up the man so 
 decidedly, that I began, with him, to have hope for 
 the future. 
 
310 THE EARTHQUAKE S SHOCK. 
 
 In regard to the cherished school plan, there is evi 
 dence that he secretly clung to his faith : although 
 some of the notes he made in these months, read in the 
 light of after days, may indicate the vagaries of a mind 
 imperfect in its balance, rather than that lofty confi 
 dence in his thought and in God which we call faith. 
 Certain it is, that he sometimes climbed the most pre 
 cipitous crags or peaks, and made them his altars for 
 still pleading with God for those projects, to which he 
 had been long devoted. 
 
 Passing through Russell Gulch upon the road from 
 Central to Idaho, Alp mountain is the highest point on 
 our left. If we turn at the head of Virginia canon and 
 follow the ridge to this height, we shall obtain the finest 
 view in the region. East are the foot hills and great 
 plains. In the north a mass of grey hills are tumbled 
 together, naked or clad with trees, and far away are 
 seen the wall-like crags on the Boulder road. All 
 along the more distant northwest and west, we look 
 upon the great Snowy Range. On the south, the gi 
 gantic Chief and his family rise beyond the deep canon 
 of South Clear creek, whose waters are dashing white 
 three thousand feet below. 
 
 Standing here one day, I saw heavy squalls rising in 
 the southwest, pouring over the head of Mt. Bierstadt 
 into the bosom of the Chicago lakes. Finding a big 
 crooked pine, with rocky seats under it, a little south 
 east from the highest point of the hill, I had perfect 
 shelter; and gazed upon the strange and shifting 
 scenery of the storm. The distant crags of the moun- 
 
THE EARTHQUAKE S SHOCK. 3" 
 
 tains on the horizon were covered with the advancing 
 squadrons of the rain ; and soon their uppermost val 
 leys were filled. All along the Range dark clouds 
 rolled up from the west, and quickly distributed their 
 weight of waters over every hill side. In riding down 
 the wood-road to Russell Gulch, returning to Central, I 
 encountered another shower, this time the yellow 
 leaves of the aspen. 
 
 It was, according to Cephas papers, upon this wild 
 ridge, by the side of a fallen pine, that, in a moment of 
 semi-madness or of ecstatic faith, my friend saw far 
 beyond all the natural beauty around him rising in 
 every land schools of that particular order for which he 
 had so long toiled and prayed. A needle from that 
 pine was taken by him as a witness to his fervent faith ; 
 and he made marks on a pocket map of the world, as 
 if his faith and works would some day make no mean 
 conquests upon this globe. 
 
312 THE WORK LAID DOWN. 
 
 XXVII. 
 THE WORK LAID DOWN. 
 
 THERE was opposite my house on the Pat Casey 
 road an unoccupied house, and I often used the 
 shady side of the roof, which could be easily 
 reached from the hillside above, as my study on a 
 Sunday morning. It was here, with several goats 
 and a donkey standing or wandering upon the rocks 
 near by, and myself upon the roof, for auditors, that 
 Cephas one day read a paper he had just written. 
 The tone of the manuscript was in strange contrast 
 with the somewhat ludicrous surroundings. 
 
 "THE DYING STUDENT. 
 
 "A man lays out a plan for years of study. Ill 
 health cuts out months at a time; and for years he 
 must roam the pastures, like a brute over mountains 
 and plains. It may be little loss to the world ; but to 
 him it is inexpressibly sad. For a long time I have 
 wished I cotfld pick up my papers. My attempts to 
 study are constantly interrupted by the vision of death 
 peering in upon me, and asking, "Who is going to 
 
THE WORK LAID DOWN. 31 3 
 
 take care of all these illegible things you call ideas ? " 
 Years ago, however, I wrote over my pigeon holes, 
 * Thy will be done. With that I brave the fire which 
 may burn them, or sudden death. And I am almost 
 ready to say, Thy will be done, if I shall endure 
 the penalty of over-work, and sit day by day with 
 diseased brain and let my life go by in idleness, 
 
 " As I have seen the pine, 
 Famed for its travels o er the sea, 
 Broken with storms and age, decline, 
 And in some creek unpitied rot away. 
 
 "Long since, I began to turn away from the open 
 doors of libraries, more precious to me than the 
 treasure houses of kings. Certain studies I have had 
 to defer till I can take them up in the eternal world. 
 I must now begin to tie up my work. The body is 
 breaking up, and the labor of all my years is like a ship 
 yard with some keels laid, some timber in shape and 
 a world of chips. Sooner or later it comes to every 
 man that the life work must be laid down. I am 
 brought to this moment in middle life. I hear a voice, 
 saying, Set thine house in order : for thou shalt die, 
 and not live. My days are past, my purposes are 
 broken off, even the thoughts of my heart. 
 
 " How many poets and artists die with poem, paint 
 ing and sculpture in their souls unwrought. Within a 
 few days, I have read the sad sweet story of Maurice 
 de Gue rin and his sister Eugdnie. Death cut off the 
 brother early, then the sister before she could publish 
 
314 THE WORK LAID DOWN. 
 
 what he had written. Such simple piety, unaffected 
 modesty, sprightliness, beauty of homely life, genuine 
 genius graceful and natural, does not bless our world 
 once in five centuries. Their lives were poems of 
 singular beauty and power, read by few. Did they fail 
 of the highest success in life, because their fame was so 
 limited ? How well does Disraeli, the elder, compare 
 the early death of students to the death of infants and 
 young children. We can easily count up many of great 
 promise, cut off before thirty years old. Men stand by, 
 and coldly say of one that he worked too hard : 
 
 " A fiery soul, that work-ing out its way, 
 
 Fretted the pigmy body to decay, 
 
 And o er informed the tenement of clay. 
 
 " Some days I feel like a sailor upon his plank in mid- 
 ocean, soon to sink into the deep waters alone. Many 
 a vital spirit has departed, over which no one has 
 wept. Life after life is ended, and upon the tomb 
 is placed this epitaph, Like all lives, this was a 
 tragedy: high hopes, noble efforts, under thickening 
 difficulties and increasing impediments; ever new no 
 bleness of valiant effort, and the result, death, with 
 conquest by no means corresponding. And we do not 
 even stop to ask who wrote these words, indicating an 
 author who experienced the common lot of man. 
 
 " Often in the night I have risen to pray, Hide not 
 thy face from me; put not thy servant away in anjer. 
 I said, O my God, take me not away in the midst of 
 my days. But he has weakened my strength in the 
 
THE WORK LAID DOWN. 315 
 
 way ; He has cut off my days with pining sickness : I 
 am counted with them that go down into the pit. In 
 vain I cry, What profit is there in my blood ? Shall 
 the dust praise Thee ? shall it declare Thy truth ? I 
 shall be soon forgotton, as a dead man out of mind ; 
 free among the dead, like the slain that lie in the grave. 
 But an unfinished life with all its unfulfilled ambitions 
 is complete, if heaven is grafted on the cut stalk. If I 
 receive with thankfulness life s best discipline, it will be 
 more pleasing to God than any monument of spiritual 
 labor that I can raise as a memorial of my life." 
 
 " I confess to you, Edward," added Cephas, " that I 
 have sometimes struggled hard with my destiny \ and 
 tried to win from it a few more years of toil, that if 
 possible I may finish my papers and perpetuate my life 
 in print." 
 
 "As to the first part of your remarks, Cephas," I 
 replied, " I have not the remotest idea that you are 
 going to die yet awhile. I have seen many a man over 
 worked, and if he once gets into a thoroughly morbid 
 state, so that his personal adventures seem to him more 
 important than the rise and fall of empires, he is likely 
 to turn about and get well. When the condition of 
 one s head, and the number of hours in which he can 
 lose consciousness in sleep, occupy the mind in place 
 of spiritual projects to modify society age after age, the 
 chance is that he will sleep and take care of his head 
 instead of bothering about society and distant ages. 
 You have studied so much out of doors all your life, 
 that you cannot go out now without studying. If 
 
31 6 THE WORK LAID DOWN. 
 
 you will change your tactics and live in the open air, 
 pecking about without thinking any more than a hen, 
 you will live to do as much work as you ought to do. 
 
 " For the other point you made, about printing 
 books, you remember that when you and I were boys 
 together in New Hampshire, we used to see the wild 
 geese flying over spring and autumn ; but we never 
 thought it worth while to inquire the name of the 
 goose leading the harrow. When the students of future 
 generations go pillaging libraries, and see your book 
 at one end of a shelf in some immense library, they 
 will never think to inquire what your initials, C. T., 
 stand for. Cephas Timothy will not mean so much 
 to them as it does to you. But you will be amply 
 avenged on most of them, who will live and die as ob 
 scurely as yourself: and their attempts to gain what 
 you call a permanent usefulness, will not be much 
 helped or hindered, whether you happen to leave two 
 books or three as your Works on that shelf, not 
 even if they should pluck leaf by leaf like feathers from 
 a goose." 
 
 " When I sailed, some summers ago, along the coast 
 of Campo Bello," replied Cephas, " the fog veiled the 
 cliffs; and an echo returned to me from the unseen 
 shore. The lives of most of us are really as trivial as 
 that echo, so far as concerns the great world and ages 
 of history, a sound from out the darkness of some 
 unknown land, by chance reaching the ear of a passing 
 voyager and then heard no more forever. Life is like 
 a sigh borne over the sea waves on the wind. 
 
THE WORK LAID DOWN. 3 1 ? 
 
 " When I have been lying down by the side of pools 
 and brooks in the woods, I have spent many hours in 
 watching the common water-skater (hydrometer stagno- 
 runi). He glides about the water a few days, perishes, 
 and another takes his place; yet their generation is 
 ever known upon the earth. So I sit in my study on 
 an evening beside an open fire; I ^ glide about busily 
 for a few days among my parishioners, and under the 
 eye of any stranger who may chance to pass that way ; 
 then I am known no more on the earth forever. Still, 
 age after age, the generations of obscure students fail 
 not. The swift skater and the plodding student fulfil 
 their work in the economy of nature or of human life, 
 and then go their way. 
 
 " But as I sit by my evening fire I am dreaming of a 
 home and a career in the skies, where I shall serve 
 amid numbers without number as king and priest for 
 ever. What matters it then if I have no fame upon the 
 earth or peculiar glory on high, since I am sporting in 
 the divine light day by day. I look forward gladly to 
 the hour when I shall be numbered with the unknown 
 dead ; and another shall build the fire upon my hearth, 
 study at my window and move about the town as I do 
 now." 
 
 As we returned to my home, I found the words of 
 Antoninus : " Short is the time which every man lives, 
 and small the nook of the earth where he lives; and 
 short, too, the longest posthumous fame, and even this 
 only continued by a succession of poor human beings, 
 who will very soon die, and who know not even them 
 selves, much less him who died long ago." 
 
3*8 THE WORK LAID DOWN. 
 
 " He is the wisest man," said my friend, "who works 
 hardest for to-day, if he does his work as well as 
 he can. The only immortality worth seeking is an 
 undying influence not reputation. Influence is im 
 personal, unknown ; reputation pertains to a name. 
 No matter whether or not the men of the future happen 
 to know your name ; if they are unconsciously modified 
 by your life, it is enough. We are not to search for 
 deathless fame, but for posthumous power though it be 
 nameless : that is gained not necessarily by authorship, 
 but through the sway conscious and unconscious we 
 are exercising every day upon the men around us. 
 
 " Unless a man s life is better than his books, his 
 books will be good for nothing. To do good to our 
 next neighbor, to search out the children of sorrow, to 
 make one s life noble, is better than mere book making. 
 To have a moral hold on men now living is the way to 
 obtain mastery in the next age of the world. 
 
 " A man dies, and henceforth his influence is most 
 likely not called by his name, but his life-work is still a 
 power in the world : as the water from a river becomes 
 a part of the ocean current after it has lost the name it 
 was known by. Indeed, there are cases in which 
 mighty men make a personal impression on the world 
 after they die, as the Amazon preserves its integrity 
 for a few score of miles amid the sea waves ; but the 
 great bulk of mankind die as die the brooks and small 
 rivers, falling into the sea and making no noticeable 
 impression, yet it is a great mistake to suppose that 
 there is no impression made. I die tonight; but the 
 
THE WORK LAID DOWN. 319 
 
 members of my own family and of my own circle of 
 acquaintance will never be again as if I had not known 
 them. My influence upon them for evil or for good 
 will be perpetuated in them, and through them to 
 others, modifying remote generations : it will live for- 
 evermore enduring as the waters of the deep, with 
 countless changes, a power through all ages." 
 
 "Did you never think," I asked, "that ill health 
 brings a compensation with it when it keeps a man 
 always ready for the upper house ? By it one is always 
 ready to exchange his pilgrim staff for the wings of an 
 angel." 
 
 "Yes," he answered. " Today in talking with a sick 
 man, I reminded him of the old illustration about the 
 Arabian tents: they pull up one tent pin after an 
 other, and then carry away the tent. So we lose one 
 faculty, as this man of locomotion; then some other 
 power, and then our bodies are removed. * How glad 
 we should be, I said, when the signs of removal come, 
 and one tent pin after another is taken away. It 
 flashed upon me in a moment, that this terrible head 
 ache I have had so long is to prepare me for my depar 
 ture. Even now in what I have supposed to be middle 
 life, I have sure tokens of death about me. And am I 
 glad? I thought about my unfinished work; but with 
 unspeakable joy said at once, I am ready. Though 
 my work is half done, my purpose is perfect ; and my 
 aspirations are perfect. The work that I can do here 
 is small ; and the heavenly work is ample enough. If 
 I may enter upon that world I will instantly drop my 
 
320 THE WORK LAID DOWN. 
 
 present employments, like an artist suddenly called to 
 a throne. 
 
 "I am ready to drop earthly work, and look for the 
 same service in another sphere. I would gladly die if 
 I must, in the midst of my years. And the thought of 
 being unknown upon the earth will not disturb my 
 dying pillow or the moments next beyond." 
 
 "What avails it," he asked, after an interval of 
 silence, "this buzzing about like a gadfly? To live 
 personally near to Christ, is worth more than all we 
 call our activities." 
 
 Long after we had retired for the night, I rose and 
 walked my study floor in the bright moonlight. In the 
 Colorado mountains it is easy to read by a full moon. 
 I took down my Whittier, and found these lines, 
 
 " The yearning of the mind is stilled, 
 I ask not now for fame. 
 
 But, bowed in lowliness of mind, 
 
 I make my wishes known ; 
 I only ask a will resigned, 
 
 O Father, to thine own. 
 
 In vain I task my aching brain, 
 
 The sage s thoughts to scan ; 
 I only feel how weak I am, 
 
 How poor and blind is man. 
 
 And now my spirit sighs for home, 
 
 And longs for light to see. 
 And, like a weary child, would come, 
 
 O Father, unto Thee." 
 
THE WORK LAID DOWN. 3 21 
 
 Several mornings after, we went to the top of Bald 
 Mountain before sunrise. The light was stealing over 
 the great plains eastward, and touching the tops of the 
 foot hills. From southwest to northwest the snow-clad 
 mountains were rose-tinted with the rays of the dawn. 
 The deep canon at our feet upon the west was still dark. 
 We did not feel a breath of air ; but the change in the 
 state of the atmosphere upon the east of the Great 
 Range caused by the advancing day, drew the colder 
 air upon the west of the mountains eastward: and we 
 could hear the sound of its coming ten miles away ; 
 mountain crags and pines roaring like the sea in a 
 storm. My ears are like sea-shells far inland, and I 
 am always awake to the sound of the ocean; so that 
 the murmuring mountains aroused at once all my old 
 passion for the sea. 
 
 "Which do you like best," I asked, turning to my 
 companion, "the mountains or the sea?" 
 
 But I saw him deadly pale ; and he made no answer. 
 The sea to him meant only a wreck, and the stranger 
 dead so like his Helen. A sound like the deep sea 
 waves touched the sensitive spot in his brain. We 
 turned away; and he was sadly ill all that day. So 
 easily was his physical condition affected by mental 
 causes ; and his mind was elevated or depressed by the 
 state of his body. 
 
 Day by day we read Scott s novels. One evening, 
 Cephas said as he laid down the book, 
 
 " I would like to read over again the Pirate, which I 
 have not looked at for years, if there were not so much 
 12 
 
322 THE WORK LAID DOWN. 
 
 ragged coast and surging brine in it. I often think 
 nowadays, that I am like Norna of Fitful Head. I 
 have not dreamed that I could control the powers of 
 nature ; but I have lived in a sort of ecstasy thinking 
 evermore of a high mission to perform in life, adven 
 tures in shaping new countries for Christ, book making, 
 and school building ; and I have had visions of angels 
 ascending and descending in my daily walks. Now, 
 however, my brain reels, I doubt myself, and my 
 projects look a little mad. Last night, I spent two 
 hours wide awake, when I ought to have been fast 
 asleep, in thinking about the wretched accumulation 
 of bits of paper, which I have called ideas, so carefully 
 preserved in my pigeon holes. I am ready to cry out 
 with the dying Tasso, and ask my friends to burn them 
 all, especially those I have thought the most of ; as his 
 morbid mind was most set against his favorite work 
 Jerusalem Delivered. 5 I have done all I could; but 
 my own inefficiency has made me disappointed with 
 myself. I have had high ideals. 
 
 * I was ambitious * * * ; 
 But never did king, pontiff, chief, or citizen 
 Conceive a project grand as mine. 
 
 I was ambitious; but I failed in sound judgment. It 
 has been the old story over again, the laying out of 
 works never to be finished; the same blunder which 
 hundreds of students have made before me. Great 
 preparation have I made for writing, which now seems 
 to me waste of labor. My industry is lost through lack 
 
THE WORK LAID DOWN. 3 2 3 
 
 of well proportioned roundabout common sense in 
 undertaking so much only as I could do. The start 
 ling truth is coming home to me that my early dreams 
 have all failed. I have tried to achieve what was for 
 me impossible. 
 
 "I certainly thought myself equal to the work. I 
 have been conscious of a mental power not put forth 
 in my writings. No topic is handled according to the 
 ideal I have in mind. I cannot in this world bring out 
 the powers which I know are slumbering within. Not 
 yet can I paint Christ as He appears to me. To learn 
 to write has been always before my mind as my highest 
 ideal and aim in life. I have utterly failed. My style 
 is bad unmanageable. I have gained little informa 
 tion ; what I have, is ill digested. My health is break 
 ing up. You might as well take the stuff which I have 
 prized above gold, and put match to it. It ll catch 
 quick as gas. Here is the key of my pigeon holes. 
 Do what you have a mind to with my papers : I shall 
 never look at them again." 
 
 I could see fhat my friend was getting a little wild, 
 and I said nothing on the topic; but began to rattle 
 the dice, taking out a backgammon board, which always 
 brought him to his senses. He was fond of the game 
 requiring no thought, and played at it by the half hour 
 with me though never with any one else. But before 
 he took a shake, he threw down the key which locked 
 his papers \ and said, 
 
 " We read, in the New Testament, about dumb devils 
 and unclean devils. Now, all my life I have been 
 
324 THE WORK LAID DOWN. 
 
 possessed at times with a vain devil ; and he has made 
 some notes, mixing them in with my papers. I would 
 they were out; but you will see them." 
 
 In looking over Cephas manuscripts in recent 
 months, I have, indeed, found some notes which indi 
 cated that at times he had a morbid self consciousness, 
 as if all that he did was in the world s eye. According 
 to these memoranda, he, sometimes at least, firmly 
 believed that his educational plan would become one of 
 the most important fixtures of this world; and that this 
 fact would gain him readers he would not otherwise 
 get ; and also that on this account his life experiences 
 would be possessed of an interest they would not excite 
 under other circumstances. Some of these notes which 
 he attributed to the vain devil certainly read a little 
 strangely in my friend s handwriting ; for he was to all 
 outward appearance the most modest of men, rarely 
 referring to his own work and turning off quickly any 
 compliment made to him, diverting the conversation if 
 his own good deeds were spoken of. Yet, I have a 
 feeling that his was an infirmity common to man. 
 Indeed, I could myself have written the following sen 
 tence, which I find signed at the bottom, " Vain 
 Devil." 
 
 I sometimes sigh to be praised ; and on Sabbath or 
 week day wish some one would speak an appreciative 
 word." But there is on the back of it this endorse 
 ment, " I cannot find that Christ ever thought of such 
 a thing." 
 
 In looking over Cephas pigeon holes, which has now 
 
THE WORK LAID DOWN. 325 
 
 been my employment for some time, I find directions 
 for me to do thus and so, as if he had contemplated 
 the possibility of these papers coming into my hands. 
 I am not prepared to condemn his manuscripts whole 
 sale as thoroughly as he did. It is certain, however, 
 that he well described some of them when he marked 
 on a paper band by which one pile of papers was 
 strapped together, 
 
 " Monstrum horrendum, informe, ingens, cui lumen, ademptum." 
 
 Which, by his own free translation, means, " monstrous 
 and horrid, unformed and blind, needing a pine tree 
 for support," etc. In making a critical estimate of my 
 friend s work, I cannot say that he had extraordinary 
 success in his sermon making. Yet taking all his 
 ideas jotted down upon little bits of old envelopes, 
 ragged strips of ribbon paper, fragments white brown 
 and yellow I find many thoughts singularly inspiring. 
 I look at them and say in despair, "What an in 
 heritance ! " There are, also, some manuscripts cleanly 
 prepared which I think others will value highly as I do, 
 if the time ever comes to put any part of them before 
 the public. 
 
 But all this is aside from the point in hand. I have 
 been led into this opening of Cephas pigeon holes by 
 the key he threw that evening upon my backgammon 
 board. After the game closed, I opened Emerson s 
 Essays, and read to Cephas : " I look on that man as 
 happy, who, when there is question of success, looks 
 into his work for a reply, not into the market, not into 
 opinion, not into patronage." And I added, "You 
 
326 THE WORK LAID DOWN. 
 
 have been long conscious that you were trying to do a 
 good work ; and you ought not to throw up everything 
 in discouragement, in one moment of depression in 
 duced by overwork." 
 
 After this, Cephas health mended so rapidly and 
 decidedly, that within a month, he set off upon a long 
 talked of journey to Idaho and Montana ; hoping to be 
 able to return within a twelve month to the Pacific 
 coast. He was buoyant and hopeful, quite like himself, 
 and I had no anticipation of evil. When we separated 
 at the end of Bates Hill overhanging Black Hawk, I 
 put into his hand a card with these directions : 
 
 "NEVER OVERDO IN ANY ONE DAY, eating, walking, 
 spiritual exercises, study, parochial work, or preaching ; 
 but, on the other hand, do enough of each to have a 
 well proportioned life. You may thus keep your soul 
 in your body till you are sixty." 
 
 And when I waved my adieu, I said, " Into three 
 doors enter not: enter the door of no parishioner s 
 house ; enter not the door of your meeting house ; and 
 enter not your study door. My prescription for a 
 twelve-month." 
 
 After Cephas had turned his back, he looked about 
 again, and shouted, 
 
 " Ed ! If you ever print any of my papers, make sure 
 to put plenty of yeast into the dough." 
 
 It was 
 
 " Like a fire upblazihg ere it dies, " 
 for I never saw him again. 
 
BLACKHAWK TO BOULDER. 3 2 7 
 
 XXVIII. 
 BLACKHAWK TO BOULDER. 
 
 SOME weeks after, I was called one Saturday after 
 noon, to ride thirty miles across the hills to ex 
 change with one of my nearest neighbors. There 
 had been a little misunderstanding about it, and I was 
 not expecting to go ; so that it was three o clock before 
 I was under way. Cantering down the Casey Road in 
 Central, and plunging over into Chase s Gulch, as 
 one would ride over the rim of a kettle and wind down 
 its steep side into the bottom, I passed Blackhawk 
 and soon entered the way leading by Carl s Ranch to 
 Boulder. 
 
 For three or four miles, perhaps I have forgotten 
 just how far there is an ascent, up, up; and looking 
 back the long ravine, one sees Mount Bierstadt, with 
 sharp precipices, snow-clad head and white shoulders, 
 rising grandly in the south. After my morning s 
 study, I felt wonderfully refreshed by the clear air, and 
 cheered by the visions of beauty and grandeur around 
 me. I wished that some of my brethren in the east, 
 moiling in hot towns and weary with care, could ride 
 with me. And I wondered then, as since, that it is so 
 
328 BLACKHAWK TO BOULDER. 
 
 difficult to get men to leave the climate of New Eng 
 land to dwell in a country where existence is a delight, 
 and a cloudless sky is always inviting one to live out of 
 doors. But too many, I fear, feel like Cuddy Head- 
 rigg in the story, a great dread lest they " hae to gang 
 to a far country, maybe twall or fifteen miles aff." 
 
 Not unnaturally, as my black horse toiled slowly up 
 the hill, I fell to thinking upon the comforts and advan 
 tages of open air life in a good climate. I thought, 
 how strange it is that story-tellers make their characters 
 stay so much in parlors and live evermore in public. 
 In certain moods, I hate houses, and dislike overmuch 
 company. And I went on dreaming about the influ 
 ence which a clear atmosphere and sweet sunshine has 
 upon the imagination. 
 
 Dripping with the brine of the western ocean, and 
 wide awake and keen through breathing the air of the 
 western mountains, we have recently found a story 
 teller who has put new life into the business. But I 
 notice that in one of his most thrilling sketches, there 
 is a minute report of the dying words and deeds of a 
 party who were snowed in, and who all perished before 
 aid could reach them. The author gives no hint of 
 spirit-rappings; but from no other source could he 
 have obtained an authentic report of their last words. 
 Riding up this lonely mountain road, when I came near 
 the top of the hill, and looked back toward the basin 
 of Chicago Lake and the broken precipices and peaks 
 that surround it, and the dark ravines flowing clown 
 the skirts of the mountains, I had almost made up 
 
BLACKHAWK TO BOULDER. 329 
 
 my mind if ever I should write a story, and I inwardly 
 said, " Is thy servant a dog that he should do this 
 thing?" that I would have nothing going on in it 
 which I did not know about directly. I would not, I 
 thought, report conversations occurring in deep window 
 seats by moonlight, or in gardens between two alone 
 unless I should make one of the two. 
 
 Inwardly determining always to stick to fact if I 
 should ever tell tales, even at a little sacrifice of variety 
 in the make-up of my story, I galloped quite merrily 
 for several miles, along a heavy mountain wall rising 
 on the right ; which I have called the Crawford Crags, 
 since my predecessor is the only man I could find, who 
 had climbed these formidable heights. Then I drove 
 into the woodlands, following streams -where trout were 
 leaping and sparkling by the roadside. Often I caught 
 a glimpse of snow-clad mountains in the west, not near 
 and not distant. 
 
 By this time I had fully made up my mind, not only 
 to live out of doors all my future life as I always had 
 done except a few disagreeable hours in houses which 
 I never called really living but I had settled it that 
 all imaginary heroes I might call up in making parables 
 should also live abroad under the clean heavens. That 
 was a sensible saint, thought I, who is buried near 
 Bokhara in Central Asia, who so notable as to be a 
 sort of second Mohammed has determined dead or 
 alive to have fresh air ; so that, according to travelers 
 tales, for four hundred years more or less, he has re 
 sisted every attempt to cover his tomb with a dome 
 
330 BLACKHAWK TO BOULDER. 
 
 and thrown off the cover within three days after it was 
 done. 
 
 At this point, I was riding past a very remarkable 
 pulpit rock, two or three hundred feet above the road, 
 on the right just before reaching Tyler s mill ; and I 
 thought of the great delight Cephas would have taken 
 in trying that pulpit. Then I remembered his eccen 
 tric chase over the Sierra. And I called up the re 
 markable adventures I had experienced, once and 
 again, with his pursuer ; of whom I had not now heard 
 for perhaps three years. I could not rid myself of the 
 memory of this wild and wicked, though as I then 
 hoped penitent man. He seemed to be riding be 
 side me, as the shadows began to fall. And when, 
 near Carl s Ranch, I came upon the massive towers of 
 rock, which rise castle-like scarcely possible to be 
 scaled by human foot, I instinctively turned to point 
 my imaginary companion to the striking features of 
 the landscape. Very soon I stood upon the verge of 
 the mountain plateau I had been riding over; and I 
 was about to go down some thousands of feet in a four 
 mile ride to the depth of the Boulder canon. From 
 this edge of the mountain, the deep forest-clad valleys 
 are skirting to the north and east; and the plains are 
 seen, rolling from the base of the mountains, wide like 
 a limitless sea. In the evening and the morning lights, 
 and under the full moon, the picture is perfect. I 
 turned off the path to the left to rest my horse, and to 
 stretch myself under the low trees, and to gaze out over 
 the valley before descending into it. 
 
BLACKHAWK TO BOULDER. 331 
 
 When I again mounted, up dashed my Englishman 
 in person, riding in hot haste from Central to overtake 
 me. He was again on the track of Cephas, who had 
 not long before left me for Idaho and Montana. The 
 detective had called at my house soon after I left it, 
 and having learned of the late departure of my friend 
 whom he had hoped to find there, he was hurrying on 
 to overtake me, to get a little more exact information 
 a.s he should press forward in pursuit. 
 
 After his return to England he had avoided his em 
 ployers of the last chase, left his old trade, and in con 
 nection with police duties had given himself heartily to 
 doing good among the poor and the wicked of London. 
 While engaged in this work, he formed an acquaint 
 ance with the friends of a woman, who gave him a 
 a new errand in his old work of following wanderers. 
 He was introduced to the young mistress of a .fine man 
 sion, who was an invalid with disease far advanced. 
 She wished to employ him in finding a friend, who was 
 so ill that she feared he would lose his reason, if he 
 had not already lost it; and who was then moving 
 about the wilds of western America, in search of 
 health. He was to be found as quickly as possible, 
 and brought to England, with the message that all their 
 dreams of former years could be then fulfilled. 
 
 "By a photograph which she showed me," said the 
 detective, " taken two or three years since, I at once 
 recognized the New England pastor with whom I went 
 to California, and who became to me a spiritual guide. 
 Surprised and saddened with the news of his ill-health, 
 
332 BLACKHAWK TO BOULDER. 
 
 and that I was to hunt for him as once for another 
 madman, I told my fair employer some parts of my 
 former hunting adventures, and what her friend had 
 been to me. I could see that my story awakened 
 great agitation. With amazement she at last inter 
 rupted me, and then unraveled what was to me a 
 strange riddle. Her father was bitterly opposed to her 
 young American friend; and wished her to give her 
 hand to an unprincipled man of high sounding title, 
 who, upon her father s death, had for a time with two 
 others some control over her property. They were the 
 ones who had sent me into the California mountains. 
 Then I learned that her friend was not only my New 
 England pastor, but also the very victim I sought, your 
 friend ; and that he like a half-crazy man had, as an 
 erratic freak, disguised himself, and allowed me to 
 chase him like a roe on the mountains: which, the 
 young lady said, was just like him, so wild and full of 
 spirits." 
 
 I cannot now detail the full story as he gave it, but 
 this was the substance. 
 
 As we followed a nose-like ridge flanked by deep 
 ravines, hastening down the mountain side till we 
 reached the rocky bed of the Boulder. I asked many 
 questions concerning the young Englishwoman, who 
 proved to be Helen. So singularly did this fair friend 
 appear again. During the years of silence, her life and 
 Cephas destiny had been mingled by hands and move 
 ments which neither could control. It was her father 
 who sent the detective to the Essex woods ; his execu- 
 
BLACKHAWK TO BOULDER. 333 
 
 tors who sent the man of blood into the Sierra ; and at 
 this time she herself was searching for Cephas, that 
 their old plans might now be carried out. 
 
 Riding by the side of the creek, we were shut in by 
 precipitous walls from six hundred to a thousand feet 
 high; and the valley was so narrow that there was 
 hardly room for the river and the road, the stream 
 having six bridges in half a mile. Hurrying along the 
 wild path, we made the walls of the canon ring with 
 merry laughter, as we talked of the dangerous trick the 
 Yankee minister had played as a flying maniac; a 
 story I had already often laughed and wondered over 
 since the Wild Man first told it to me on Telegraph 
 Hill. I learned, also, much about Helen and her 
 family as we rode close beside the untamed, foaming 
 water, which was often loud roaring and white with 
 spray. The full moon threw a weird light upon the 
 swift stream, and upon the grim walls that rose from 
 the banks ; and I was wild with delight as I cantered 
 beside my companion through the six mile ride to the 
 mouth of the canon. We entered the town, half a mile 
 from the foot of the mountains. * 
 
 The night was so enchanting, that, going to the 
 clergyman s quarters, I took his camping blanket, and 
 went with the Englishman a little distance toward Val- 
 mont; where a solitary pyramid like the top of a 
 sinking mountain stands in the level plain, Here we 
 spent the night, half in talking, half in sleeping. In 
 the morning we separated. I told him all I could 
 about my friend s plans of travel ; and he set out upon 
 his track. 
 
334 BLACKHAWK TO BOULDER. 
 
 From this Valmont hill and plain one looks back 
 upon the mountain range. Living as I do now in a 
 comparatively flat country, my mind often reverts to 
 that evening ride, the moonlight bivouac, and the vis 
 ion of beauty which greeted my eyes when the sun rose 
 upon the mountains. 
 
 Sabbath evening, having no service among the scat 
 tered population, I rode by moonlight ten miles up 
 the ravine to Carl s; where I spent the night. My 
 Monday morning ride was filled to the full of keen 
 enjoyment by the cold exhilarating air of four and five 
 o clock. It was in early July, and I drank from an ice 
 bound brook. But the birds were singing when the 
 sun came up. My. eyes were wide open to see the 
 wonders of the mountains ; and I saw wonders. A 
 sphinx looked down upon me from a ledge about forty 
 feet above the road. It was a loose boulder about six 
 feet in diameter: and, from a side view at the right 
 point, it presented a complete human head a good 
 looking giant with standing collar; a front view at a 
 little distance showed ^he open mouth and teeth of an 
 animal. This was about half a mile below Tyler s saw 
 mill on the South Boulder. Up the stream after cross 
 ing the bridge, I found a remarkable bust of a woman 
 standing out from the mountain side high above me. 
 All this region is alive with grotesque images. 
 
 I kept thinking all the way, What a romantic thing 
 it is to ride off for an " exchange " in the Rocky Moun 
 tains! I wished some of my brethren in the east 
 
BLACKHAWK TO BOULDER. 335 
 
 would become home missionaries for awhile. And I 
 was glad to have the pleasant pictures of that morning 
 to carry with me to Cape Anne, whither I almost 
 immediately removed ; leaving the stern mountains and 
 the loved frontier, on account of a foolish habit I have 
 of overworking for a year or two, and then idling a 
 year or two more to make up for it. 
 
336 HOUSE ISLAND. 
 
 XXIX. 
 HOUSE ISLAND. 
 
 IT was after the leaf fall, in the lull which precedes 
 the winter winds, the true Indian summer time, 
 when I had the next news from Cephas and our 
 English friend. The latter was at my house on the 
 Cape ; having a day to wait before steaming to Hali 
 fax, from which 4)lace he had recently returned. 
 When we sat down in my study in the morning, the din 
 of the restless sea came in at the open windows. And 
 as we talked, the booming waters grew louder and 
 louder; and I could not stay. We made therefore a 
 trip to House Island. 
 
 The tide was fast running out, and by favor of an 
 ash breeze we swept sViftly down over the flats, run 
 ning with the eel-grass, which seemed in one place to 
 be the element that buoyed our boat. Where we 
 landed, the strong sea was playing with pebbles ; the 
 inrushing and the retreating \vaves rippled among the 
 rocks, as if they loved them. We went through the 
 little grove, and then stood upon the verge of abrupt 
 walls of rock, overlooking shattered and ragged ledges 
 to the right hand and the left ; and before us was the 
 
HOUSE ISLAND. 337 
 
 ocean wilderness tossing its wild waters. We saw the 
 dance of the breakers on black rocks many miles 
 away. And the surf was sounding in a hollow cavern 
 beneath our feet. 
 
 On the southeast corner of the island is my study. 
 A huge junk of cliff has separated from the main body, 
 leaving a cool shelter close by the breaking waves. 
 This is the " House " from which the island takes its 
 name, twelve by twelve, of irregular shape, and twenty 
 feet high. A vein of trap was first cut out behind it by 
 the waves, and then the Atlantic put in its lever, and 
 tried to pry it off into the sea, moving it some two 
 feet. It was done when the island had not emerged 
 from the water to its present height, as if the sea were 
 fifteen or twenty feet higher than pow. Very likely it 
 has " housed " shipwrecked mariners. It has proved 
 rent free to me many a day when the main-land was 
 sweltering under a hot inland breeze. It is always a 
 delightful place in. which to be alone, a true closet 
 among the rocks, with the sea thundering at its very 
 threshold. I had often been with Cephas under this 
 cliff ; and here we now talked over the strange turn in 
 his affairs. 
 
 He had, after leaving Central for Montana not 
 long before the detective had arrived at my house in 
 search for him, moved very quickly, and soon stealth 
 ily. Having, indeed, a fit of regular nmdness for 
 awhile; solitude developing a mental state which so 
 ciety had repressed. And as the dark cloud of un 
 reason settled upon him he imagined himself pursued. 
 
338 HOUSE ISLAND. 
 
 The detective therefore went some distance west and 
 north, before he found out that his invalid had returned 
 to Colorado, and was wandering on the slopes of Clear 
 Creek. The man-hunter, turning to follow his track, 
 roamed over the heights south of Idaho Springs on 
 South Clear Creek the Pappoose, Squaw and Chief; 
 and then westerly about the frowning ledges of Bier- 
 stadt and the ridges above Georgetown. 
 
 Having found traces all the way, old camps and bits 
 of writing, he at last came upon the Wild Man s home, 
 in the valley where the Great Range makes an oxbow 
 curve around the head of one branch of Clear Creek, 
 ten miles west of Empire. A little before reaching the 
 base of Red Mountain, the valley has considerable 
 width, and the floor is covered with forest and little 
 parks of grassland. The timber is of good growth ; 
 and there are the most perfect fir-trees, making natural 
 hedges close trimmed and of great thickness. Here, 
 very near the bank of the swift sparkling stream, was 
 Cephas little shelter tent. In every direction the 
 walks among the mountains are delightful : to the east 
 and south Ruby Mountain and the silver treasuries 
 among clouds ; north and west, the Ridge Pole of 
 this continent. In this health-giving room, walled in 
 by high peaks, the invalid, with a supply of stores, had 
 reached a resting place. The Wild Man was discov 
 ered just he was beginning to climb the Red Cone 
 on the south. When his pursuer had crossed the noisy 
 stream, and had come almost up with him, a voice was 
 heard : 
 
HOUSE ISLAND. 339 
 
 
 
 " When shall I be at rest ? Hand over hand 
 
 I grasp and climb an ever steeper hill, 
 A rougher path. Oh, that it were Thy will 
 
 My tired feet might tread the Promised Land ! " 
 
 Cephas recognized at once his English friend, and 
 returned to camp. A few sharp ringing blows of the 
 axe soon prepared a home-like fire ; the pillar of smoke 
 ascended till the sun went down, and then shone a 
 pillar of fire. Pine stumps, green boughs, and limit 
 less stores of firm wood made the hours pass quickly. 
 The worst of the insane days had gone by; and a cer 
 tain method in his madness aimed for regaining health 
 by the life of a mountaineer. Meantime he was " pros- 
 ^pecting " for gold and silver : and in this was no more 
 mad than half the people of Colorado. 
 
 Although most of his talk seemed rational, dark 
 moods like clouds would often flit over his soul. He 
 rose from the fireside in the early evening and walked 
 to a tall cottonwood ; where the rising wind was pulling 
 at the leaves. The watchman, fearing lest his patient 
 should wander away, followed; and, concealing him 
 self, overheard him praying (Job 13 : 25) : 
 
 "Wilt thou break a leaf driven to and fro, and wilt 
 thou pursue the dry stubble ? " 
 
 Accustomed as he was to wild life in the mountains, 
 the Englishman said that the voice of prayer in that 
 lonely place awakened in him a singular sense of soli 
 tude. The sounding in the tops of the pines, the music 
 of the river dashing over its shallow bed, the ghostly 
 forms of the mountains under the moonlight, and the 
 
340 HOUSE ISLAND. 
 
 solitary cry of some beast far down the valley, made the 
 loneliness of the place more apparent. He thought of 
 his former chase for the Madman, and how much he 
 owed to him as his foster father in the spiritual life. 
 He kneeled and began to pray for the invalid. Cephas 
 soon came to his side; kneeling together, they asked 
 for health, a safe way to the sea and over it. Then they 
 returned to their camp fire. First making a bed of fir 
 tips, and a thick shelter against the wind, each rolled 
 himself in his blanket and lay down with feet to the fire 
 for the night. The detective could not easily sleep; 
 and when he came to be drowsy, he was wakened by 
 his companion : who, standing with his back to the fire, 
 was pointing toward him, saying, < 
 
 " You shot at me. You are the man." 
 
 With great tact, the Englishman merely said, without 
 raising his head, 
 
 " Yes, and you prayed with me. Lie down and go to 
 sleep." 
 
 " So I did," he answered, after seeming to recollect 
 himself. And he was again quiet, and disposed to 
 sleep. The detective hardly dared lose himself long, 
 lest his charge should rise and slip away. He silently 
 arranged a staff of spruce so as to be awakened if his 
 comrade should try to creep from his side, and then 
 sought rest. But a sense of the solitude of the situa- 
 uation, the isolation from all men, the necessity of 
 watching his mad companion, the blackness of the sky 
 and the brilliancy of the stars, held his eyes waking. 
 As the night watch wore on, he saw one star after 
 
HOUSE ISLAND. 341 
 
 another move silently past the peaks, the jeweled hour 
 glass of the mountains. He tried to quiet his mind 
 with remembering old hymns. Over and over again 
 he repeated Wordsworth s line 
 
 " The sleep that is among the lonely hills," 
 
 but there was no sleep for him. He called up the wild 
 imagery of the Hebrew prophets. At last he fixed 
 upon the text, " They shall dwell safely in the wilder 
 ness, and sleep in the woods;" and he fell into a 
 troubled sleep. 
 
 When he waked the moon had gone down ; and the 
 Madman had departed in the darkness. He had taken 
 Ais blanket, axe and roll ; but left his little tent stand 
 ing. With an Indian s keenness, the detective found 
 the direction he had taken, just as the dawn began to 
 shoot its first arrows into the dark forest. The grim 
 wilderness, looking more drear and untamable than 
 under the strong light of yesterday, was so intricate 
 that it was hard to thread it in the way the Wild Man 
 had taken. The young pines were often so thick that 
 it was needful to force a pathway by breaking twigs ; 
 but the branches already broken plainly showed the 
 way. Further on, the forest was high and open ; again, 
 the way was tangled and dreary. Dead trees were 
 coming out of the grey dawn ; showing weak limbs and 
 trunks, ready to sway, crackle and crash, whenever the 
 voice of the Lord should next shake the wilderness. 
 The crooked path of pursuit led finally into the regular 
 route toward the basin at the head of the valley. After 
 
342 HOUSE ISLAND. 
 
 sunrise squirrels came out to sit on the rocks and 
 fallen trees, to breakfast on grasshoppers, which had 
 begun to come over the range in clouds. The Wild 
 Man was evidently slackening pace ; sitting down now 
 and then upon rocks or tree trunks, confident as a chip 
 per. Here was a place where he had rested, making 
 notes ; bits of paper told the tale. If I had seen such 
 scraps in the Himalayas I should have known that 
 Cephas had passed that way. One paper picked up 
 appeared to be the fly leaf of a pocket Testament, and 
 on it were written these words from the Rig-veda, " If 
 I go along trembling, like a cloud driven by the 
 wind; have mercy, Almighty, have mercy." Another 
 fragment was inscribed with his own words : " I musfc 
 walk incessantly and aimlessly. Uncontrollable rest 
 lessness, irresistible impulses, bear me onward. When 
 will my disquieted spirit find repose ? " 
 
 When the pursuer came out of the timber into the 
 wide open space, which is itself a mountain top, 
 hemmed in by a sharp rough ridge surmounted by 
 occasional peaks and pinnacles of rock, he had to 
 move with moje caution, lest he should be seen too 
 soon by the lunatic. The Wild Man not far away was 
 moving toward the western edge of the basin ; evi 
 dently planning to pass up the steep of a thousand feet, 
 and over into the Middle Park. Carefully advancing, 
 sometimes under cover of living cedars which were 
 lying down to hide their heads from the west winds, and 
 again under the lee of waterways and by scattered lines 
 of boulders, he came at last where there was no 
 
HOUSE ISLAND. 343 
 
 cover, and went forward past little pools or minute 
 lakes in the depressions of the basin next to the rim. 
 But the mad traveler did not look back. He was per 
 haps five hundred feet up the slope ; which was covered 
 with fine broken stones, lying loose and giving under 
 the feet, with here and there a small boulder or irregu 
 lar block that had lodged in its attempt to roll down 
 the steep roofside. Cephas had laid down his baggage, 
 and was eagerly killing quails ; shooting them at four 
 feet distance with handfuls of stone^. And when he 
 had so taken fowl enough for his breakfast, he again 
 marched up the ridge, pulling off the feathers by the 
 way. Absorbed in this occupation he did not notice 
 his pursuer, who finally overtook him lying upon his 
 back on the very top of the divide. 
 
 An exchange of "Good morning" brought the 
 wild fellow, for the time, to his senses. And they sat 
 chatting together, viewing the prospect. The eye, turn 
 ing eastward, looks over the backs of sixty miles of 
 mountains, with bare ridges and fir clad ravines j and, 
 beyond, eighty miles out upon the great plains which 
 roll like the ocean. In the west, there is a mass of 
 mountains a hundred miles wide ; and in the fore 
 ground the Middle Park, marked with mighty spurs and 
 undulating valleys. A hundred distinct mountain 
 peaks are counted from this spot. Heavy shower 
 clouds were pouring out their waters on the Blue River 
 Range, which rises like a wall in the west extending ten 
 leagues along the horizon. The treasures of rain were 
 advancing eastward at the rate of forty miles an hour, 
 
344 HOUSE ISLAND. 
 
 deluging the lower mountain ridges and the intervening 
 forests. 
 
 But their gazing was sharply ended by the Madman 
 snatching his pack, and starting like a Rocky Mountain 
 sheep down the steep western slope. But he paused, 
 almost before his fellow could follow. He had made a 
 misstep, and moved a rock already half loosened by 
 the melting snow and crushed his foot so badly that 
 he had to go back to camp on the strong shoulders of 
 his friend. Singularly enough, all his disorder was 
 then in his foot. His mind was so diverted as to 
 leave him clear-headed. 
 
 They had a merry time plodding down the ravine to 
 their last night s lodging. Two or three times on their 
 way, caught by showers, they halted under thick 
 umbrella-arms of cedars, and built a little fire for dry 
 ing their feet; then pushed on again, till the next 
 shower overtook them. That night the patient slept 
 well; and while the stars were still piercing the tree- 
 tops, the Englishman went for help to remove him. 
 
 The way the tide washed now, warned us to rise from 
 our seat by the sea, and take to the oars. We hauled 
 off the boat to the sound of music, the soothing 
 sound of the incoming tide flowing over rounded stones 
 on the rough shore. Fairly afloat, we laid our quarter 
 up against the heavy billows, which were coming, 
 racing and chasing, from some old battle midseas, like 
 warhorses never weary. We plowed the foaming fur 
 rows of the deep, and rode over the ridged waves; 
 
HOUSE ISLAND. 345 
 
 then glided upon low swells up the harbor, amid the 
 noise of clanging sea birds whose wings sparkled with 
 briny drops as they rose from the flood. And all 
 along the pleasant path our feet of ash were treading, 
 my comrade told me how he and the Wild Man came 
 forward to Chicago ; where, without having had any 
 serious lapse of reason since on the mountain top, my 
 friend s returning sense with that of his guide told him 
 to put himself under medical treatment for a time, 
 while the detective hastened to New York. He there 
 found a message bidding him go to Halifax to meet his 
 patron ; who had come over sea, but was lying too ill to 
 proceed further. Word was despatched to Chicago, 
 directing Cephas to follow under medical attendance as 
 soon as possible. 
 
346 THE OLD NECK. 
 
 XXX. 
 
 THE OLD NECK. 
 
 WHEN it came evening, we heard the voice of 
 many waters borne upon the night wind, and 
 again went forth. Walking with careful steps 
 through rocky pastures past the edge of a marsh, where 
 the stealthy sea was silently encroaching on grasses 
 and reeds, we crossed the brown fields and a little 
 ridge of beach grass, and reached the tuneful sands of 
 Old Neck beach, which sounded under our feet as if 
 we were treading upon the keys of some instrument. 
 The tumbling tide, unweary night and day, was making 
 great uproar. And the waves were running races along 
 the whole shore. 
 
 Making our way toward the right of the beach, in 
 first coming upon the rocks we found a little spit of 
 sand, like a triangular room surrounded with walls of 
 stone. Here to the left rises like an inclined plane a 
 sharp-backed ledge, up whose ridgepole we climbed; 
 and then lay down in certain rough cradle-like rifts 
 upon the peaked top. Here we had the sea dashing in 
 past us close by our left hand on the beach, and on 
 our right hand through a wide opening between the 
 
THE OLD NECK. 347 
 
 rocks over a sanded floor. Directly in front, the waves 
 rose with high crests, combed over the black boulders, 
 or ran to meet with heavy shock the broken ledge, 
 filling the air with spray. Lying there, we saw only 
 the sea and the stars. 
 
 Spending the evening in this place, we went through 
 with the full story, certain points of which had been 
 given me in a breath in the morning. I give it only in 
 a breath now ; for I have no heart to rehearse with any 
 great fulness the sick bed scene, and the strange story 
 of the strong man. 
 
 It seems that before the Englishman and his ward 
 separated at Chicago, Cephas confessed to him, what I 
 had more than once suspected, that this was the second 
 time in which he had really lost his mental balance ; 
 the first having been while he was wandering in the 
 Sierra, leading the detective his wild chase. That he 
 was not really himself, guided by sound discretion, for 
 a time, during those weeks, seemed apparent to me 
 then ; and his confession of it explained conduct, which 
 would have been, otherwise, too erratic even for Cephas 
 the Wild Man. 
 
 The detective, in visiting the Englishwoman in Hali 
 fax, learned something more than he had known before 
 of the relation which existed between Cephas and 
 Helen, a part of which is already known to the 
 reader. In talking with the detective she prefaced her 
 story with some account of Cephas intimacy with her 
 family, and then added : 
 
 " Cephas seemed to us to be one of a new order of 
 
348 THE OLD NECK. 
 
 men, new to us, so unselfish ; never appearing to think 
 of himself. And he was so full of plans for doing 
 good, that he thoroughly won my mother and myself to 
 try to help him in what we supposed to be one grand 
 purpose of his life. 
 
 "And," said the woman with eye kindling, as she 
 half rose from her reclining chair, "my mother in dying 
 gave me charge, that, come what might, if my father s 
 property should ever be in my hands, it should go to 
 carry out the peculiar plans of our young American 
 friend, in establishing the educational projects he had 
 in mind. And since my wishes for my own domestic 
 life had been thwarted first by my father, and then by 
 the hard hand of death, I began to live almost entirely 
 for our new friend s educational idea. Cephas love to 
 me and mine to him was that of sister and brother; 
 and what he loved and lived for, became my own end 
 in living. But my father s mad pursuit of our friend ; 
 then the conditions of his will ; then the chase set on 
 foot by the executors, made me despair of ever fulfill 
 ing my wish to endow a school upon the new plan. As 
 soon as I was free, I sent you to find Cephas. 
 
 " My disease, however, has lately made such progress 
 that I have hurried over sea, hoping to meet my friend 
 and accomplish the great work of my life and his, 
 then die in gladness. The most triumphant hour of 
 my life will be the one in which I set seal to papers, 
 which give life to the great scheme over which I have 
 dreamed and prayed by night and day for many years." 
 
 "She had spoken," said the detective, "with eyes 
 
THE OLD A r ECK. 349 
 
 sparkling and face glowing; with an earnest enthusi 
 asm, which seemed like the last energy of one about to 
 die. The thought of self sacrifice in a great project for 
 the good of others fully possessed her mind. Her 
 whole manner bade me be quiet till she had finished 
 her story. But the very first part of what she said, had 
 almost overwhelmed me ; and when she had concluded, 
 I eagerly asked a few questions. 
 
 " My head snapped, like the crack of a pistol 
 within my brain. The memory of all my early life 
 returned in a moment. I knew the mother of the Wild 
 Man was my mother. Cephas was the brother from 
 whom I separated by the roadside, when as children we 
 both started to run away. I could see the old log 
 where we settled it. God alone knows what different 
 tracks we have trodden." 
 
 The detective arose, with intense excitement, nearly 
 slipping from the rock into the eager waves. 
 
 He then proceeded to give me an account of his boy 
 adventures after he had left his brother at the old log. 
 His exposures in wild wandering with savage men in 
 provincial forests, induced a sickness that almost 
 deprived him of life. It destroyed all memory of his 
 early days so that he had to begin over again, as a lad 
 who knew nothing of himself save the wigwam where 
 he was then lying, and the motherly squaw whose care 
 had preserved his life. Many years afterwards, having 
 been struck a severe blow upon the head in a contest 
 with criminals, his memory so far came back to him 
 that he could remember his mother s face, just as she 
 
350 THE OLD NECK. 
 
 looked in kneeling when she prayed for him. But he 
 remembered nothing more till, in questioning Helen 
 at Halifax, the whole story came back to him, and his 
 mental infirmity gave place to perfect soundness. 
 
 Then it was that I could understand all those 
 strange moods in which I had seen this man. 
 
 And I began almost immediately to fancy that I had 
 long seen resemblances between Cephas and his 
 brother, and that I might have guessed the truth if I 
 had been of nimble wit. 
 
 After giving the English Helen an account of his 
 adventures with Cephas in the Rocky Mountains, the 
 detective hastily returned to the States to meet his 
 brother. But upon his arrival in Boston he learned 
 that having failed to receive his message or having mis 
 understood it, Cephas had already come to New York, 
 and sailed for England. 
 
 Next morning the boy Peter then answering to the 
 name Edward who had been absent from my house 
 the day before, met the Englishman at breakfast. 
 When we were alone again I told my guest that the lad 
 was one Cephas had given into my charge when we 
 last met in Central, and that he had come to me from 
 California when I moved to Cape Anne. 
 
 "I was astonished," said I, "upon seeing him. His 
 face was so familiar. I have tried to recall where I 
 have seen his image. I must have dreamed about just 
 such a face and figure." 
 
 " Then I related the story of the finding of this waif 
 
THE OLD NECK. 351 
 
 from the sea, the wreck in Humboldt Bay. My com 
 panion staggered, and fell to the floor. The lad was 
 his own son. 
 
 The detective s wife, who bore the image of the dead 
 Helen, was at the time of the wreck sailing for Van 
 couver s Island with her brother and her little child. 
 Her husband was expecting soon to follow, and make a 
 home there. When the news of the disaster reached 
 him, it was said that all had perished. The face of 
 this boy was to his father like one risen from the 
 dead. 
 
 Upon the day followfng, the detective sailed again 
 for Halifax, taking the lad with him. 
 
352 ALONE IN THE FOREST. 
 
 XXXI. 
 
 ALONE IN THE FOREST. 
 
 THE story of that day on the island, and the last 
 part of the story that night by the sea, filled me 
 with a sad surprise I Cannot express. I never 
 made any attempt to talk it over with any but One : 
 Him I met in the lonely forest. As the cold days 
 came on, and the ground was filling itself with frost so 
 as to hold on upon the covering of snow soon to be 
 laid over it, I went forth day after day. The woods in 
 the low lands were floored with ice. And it was to me 
 the poetry of motion to glide over a sea of glass 
 through swamps and meadows commonly inaccessible ; 
 amid the alders and wet cedars, and fields of dead 
 grasses whose spires rise above the ice waving in the 
 wind. Lying down upon thin glass-like places, I 
 looked as through windows into the still world under 
 the ice ; where the clear sunlight was streaming among 
 reeds and stems, and warming minute creatures at their 
 winter sports. My cares seemed to sink into the shal 
 lows below ; the swift running water at the airholes car 
 ried my burdens down stream, fastening them under 
 chains of ice ; and the awkward cedars reached out 
 their branches to tear away my trouble. 
 
ALONE IN THE FOREST. 353 
 
 One still day late in the season I felt impelled to 
 walk the woods all day, fifteen miles or more. The 
 silence of the wilderness was unbroken all the morning. 
 Half dreaming through the woodlands, and half filled 
 with ecstatic joy in being alone in a wild life as if in 
 some far country, I pushed on through the solemn 
 depths of the forest to the most remote parts. I clam 
 bered over scattered mounds of old dead hemlocks 
 buried by blankets of moss. I picked my way through 
 tangled thickets of dead spruce limbs in frozen 
 swamplands. I sauntered through groves of tall white 
 pines; I trode upon the exposed fangs of enormous 
 stumps, still remaining after the masts that once grew 
 there had been long at sea. 
 
 At about noon, having been lying long upon a bed of 
 ground-hemlock praying in the solitary place, I heard a 
 sullen roar which filled the forest as some old gray tower 
 fell heavily upon the earth. In the still air that pre 
 cedes a storm, I soon saw another old trunk quiver, 
 then reel and fall headlong, the top boughs crashing 
 against the sides of the neighboring stems ; and the dull 
 sound from the ground echoed through the aisles of the 
 woods. Within an hour I heard the sweetest of forest 
 sounds, the rustling of dry leaves, the creaking of a 
 lodged tree, the friction of dead branches, a distant 
 moaning of winds. Best of all, I heard the low tones 
 of the organ of the sea. The air was rising and stir 
 ring. Eddying and whirling went the half-decayed 
 spoils of the maples ; and slender trees began swaying 
 to the breeze. As the hours went by, the voice of the 
 13 
 
354 ALONE IN THE FOREST. 
 
 ocean became heavy and hoarse ; and loud surges were 
 lashing the distant shore. It was full time for the bit 
 ter storms of winter ; the trees were close reefed, and 
 all things were ready. Twisting winds began to bend 
 and break the trees. The sound of the storm, pouring 
 through rocky defiles and the open spaces of woodland 
 and over the bending treetops, outroared the distant 
 waves. The violence increased into the wild fury of a 
 gale. And falling snow soon made a new solitude. 
 
 Entering my house sometime after dark, I found the 
 detective returned once more from Halifax. Upon 
 arriving there, he had met the doctor coming from the 
 bedside of his dead patron. But she had placed on 
 sure foundation by her will, the work over which she 
 had been praying through so many years; and con 
 cerning which my friend had prayed amid the wild 
 places where I had walked that day; and for which 
 also I had been all that day praying. And, how 
 shall I say it? the news had come that Cephas him 
 self had perished at sea, washed from the deck in a 
 storm, when trying to save a child from being swept 
 off. So was he buried in the ocean, according to his 
 own wish often expressed. Its grand waves, like 
 watery mountains, are skipping like lambs over the 
 place where his body lies ; and the deep is clapping its 
 myriad hands over a new grave. 
 
THE PROPHET S MOUNTAIN. 355 
 
 XXXII. 
 THE PROPHET S MOUNTAIN. 
 
 A FTER the long storm with its dreary winds had 
 L\ passed by, and the thick damp fall had clothed 
 the earth with still snow, we left the house 
 for the Prophet s Mountain. The trees were clad 
 with a golden fleece shining in the early sun. The 
 drifts that had been borne about in the clouds were 
 now deposited in many a quaint place; covering the 
 earth with the drapery of the skies. Old walls and 
 fences, well-curbs and high sweeps, and dilapidated 
 barns were glorified. Nothing could be called com 
 mon or unclean. The snow fall had been deep here, 
 and there shallow, according to the will of a wild tem 
 pest. During the, later hours of the night the storm 
 had been followed by the reign of severe frost without 
 a breath of wind. Bright sunbeams were now shining 
 through the invigorating air, sparkling everywhere upon 
 white fields and near or distant hills. 
 
 We were glad to see the beauty of the wilderness in 
 winter. I have sometimes thought that those who live 
 in the neighborhood of cities, who are always going 
 "into town" when there are spare hours in the cold 
 
356 THE PROPHET S MOUNTAIN. 
 
 season, err greatly in not getting so far back from 
 crowds as to be obliged to penetrate the winter woods 
 for recreation. Those who house themselves or track 
 sidewalks during the most enchanting season of the 
 year, have no idea of the glories that abide in forest 
 walks within an hour s reach. The great white sheet 
 let down from heaven in winter makes beautiful even 
 the wide spread desolation of the wood chopper. 
 
 The margin of the stream which we crossed and 
 traced that morning, was everywhere adorned with 
 ornaments in white, curiously cut and carved in the 
 pure snow and half formed ice. Entering the timber, 
 where in the summer we had pine, spruce, hemlock, 
 oak, maple, birch, young and old, shrub and mast, we 
 saw now in the place of these a forest of snow. In 
 this winter palace we found tall birch and slender ma 
 ple, and the long limbs of hemlock and spruce, bending 
 in snowy festoons, forming great and small archways ; 
 and the underbrush was transformed into numberless 
 fairy grottoes for the rabbits and winter birds. We 
 saw that many great branches and not a few trees had 
 been cut clean off by the weighty axe of snow, wielded 
 by the hand of the wind. So magnificent trunks lose 
 half their arms or break down and die in great gales ; 
 or they snap under a heavy load of ice, swaying in a 
 gentle breeze on a cool sunny morning. It is because 
 their time is come : as it is appointed to men once to 
 die, so it is appointed unto trees once to die; they 
 grow on till the day of fate, then crack under the wind 
 or crash under the heavy snow. 
 
THE PROPHET S MOUNTAIN. 357 
 
 Through the strange architecture and wild ruins of 
 the winter woods, we pushed on from Baker s mill to 
 the ledge where the left hand way leads to the big 
 boulders on Beaver Hill, and there turned to the right, 
 just as a fox slowly moved on near our path. Follow 
 ing a buried road under its archways we came, near the 
 Essex line, to the great pine which, before the Sep 
 tember gale of 69, lifted its standard to the height of 
 a hundred feet. It was three feet in diameter ; but the 
 fingers of the wind that night broke off forty feet of the 
 top like a pipe stem, and hurled it point downward to 
 the ground. Where the tip first struck thirty-three feet 
 from the base of the tree, it snapped off close, then 
 entered the ground again at a foot s distance, and there 
 left a stub sticking four feet out of the ground ; then 
 the remainder of the top, thirty-three feet long, ended 
 over, leaving the butt up the ravine. By the fall, sev 
 eral small beeches were split or bent over to form 
 arches. This dismantled mast was the guide post near 
 which we turned to the left, and followed up the bottom 
 of a water trough a little way, and then swung to the 
 right, and we were directly upon the heights of the 
 Prophet s Mountain. Here the Millerite "Prophet 
 America " undertook a forty days fast ; and he became 
 so thin before his friends found him, as to be almost 
 ready to fly away lightly on the wings of the death 
 angel. 
 
 This crest is one of the best spots in Eastern Massa 
 chusetts. Even the central domes of the Blue Hills 
 of Milton give no finer forest views than this point. 
 
358 THE PROPHET S MOUNTAIN. 
 
 Climbing a low pine which offered an easy chair, we 
 looked northwest, far across the white woods to the 
 spotless hills of Hamilton. East of north we could see 
 the deep blue of the ocean by Ipswich beach ; and 
 upon the south the wide waters of Massachusets Bay. 
 Even at this distance, we heard the lonely surging of 
 the sea; which sometimes continues for days after a 
 long and hard gale. 
 
 The top rocks were bare, and the sun was warm in 
 the middle of the day. We stayed till near sundown, 
 talking mainly about the English Helen s will. This 
 instrument plans to build, upon the Island Home in 
 Nuntundale, a school for the better training of preach 
 ers ; where from the very beginning to the end of their 
 course they may, with a wide range of study and 
 thorough discipline, be taught particularly to excel in 
 writing and in speaking. 
 
 "Upon this very ledge," said I, "your brother was 
 often lying prostrate, praying for length of days ; that, 
 among other things, he might push this business." 
 
 When we turned homeward, after passing the aged 
 pine, we climbed a great boulder on our right rising 
 about twenty feet high ; and upon it as upon an altar 
 we prayed together, and praised God for the memory 
 of those who had passed away, and for their work. I 
 took from my pocket a little book, containing the 
 words and only the words of our Saviour, the cover of 
 the volume badly worn ; and I gave it to the detective. 
 
 This little book," said I, "Cephas carried in his 
 pocket so many miles as would circle the globe. Your 
 
THE PROPHET S MOUNTAIN. 359 
 
 brother s book belongs of right to you, only believe 
 the words of Christ as thoroughly as he did. 
 
 " Let me show you a text, and its marks. Here it is 
 said, Have faith in God. * * Whosoever * * shall 
 not doubt in his heart, but shall believe that those 
 things which he saith shall come to pass, it shall be 
 done, he shall have whatsoever he saith : and all things 
 whatsoever ye shall ask for in prayer, believing, ye 
 shall receive/ This very rock is what your brother 
 called his Ro.ck of Praise, where he gave thanks to 
 God for answering the prayers he had offered for estab 
 lishing the new education. He had faith that the 
 future would see.these prayers answered. In this book 
 is a dry beech leaf, torn from this overhanging tree, as 
 a witness ; and here, by this same text, is a pine needle 
 from a memorable tree in Dana s woods ; and here is a 
 sprig of fir from a high ridge in the Rocky Mountains, 
 these are the witnesses laid in here to attest that he 
 had faith in God. He believed ; but died without the 
 sight. We now know that he put an idea into the 
 world which is to be endowed by millions of money. 
 He died without the knowledge of this will, which 
 makes certain the trial of the experiment. He died, 
 subdued and tempered in mind, perhaps not so clear in 
 his faith as he had been ; he died without knowing the 
 fact that God had answered him. But he lived, believ-^ 
 ing that God would do it." 
 
 When it was nearly dark, we found ourselves at the 
 Tilted Rock upon the top of Beaver Hill, where I had 
 
360 THE PROPHET S MOUNTAIN. 
 
 first met my companion. Kindling a rousing fire in 
 the huge oven-like opening, we stretched ourselves on 
 spruce boughs, and then made an abundant supper. 
 As the evening wore on, we used snow to bank up the 
 sides of our shelter; and, moving our fire, we made a 
 new one outside. Placing fir tips over the former bed 
 of the fire, which was as hot as the bottom of a warm 
 ing pan, we then put on our heavy overcoats and lay 
 down to rest. My chum was soon sound asleep. I 
 dozed awhile; then made wakeful by many thoughts 
 and cares concerning the business we had talked of all 
 day I arose, replenished the fire, and walked abroad. 
 There is no more weird walk in the world than 
 through an evergreen forest, laden with new snow, 
 upon a bright moonlight night. The snow itself dis 
 pelled the darkness; and the moon s light imparted a 
 strange splendor to the rooms I passed through. I 
 seemed to be living in another world from that in 
 which we had moved about by day. The trees were 
 still wreathed in snow, and the moon, a little past its 
 full, shone through the archways: and I saw afar off 
 gleams of light, as if the forest was interminable and 
 everywhere clothed with ermine. Fresh fallen snow in 
 the woods is pure beyond the thought of man. In the 
 early morning, as soon as the sun shines upon it, the 
 floor of the forest is brilliant and beautiful as the floor 
 of heaven; and the changing of the sun gives a pe 
 culiar glory to each hour. But the forest must be 
 penetrated in the night under a full moon to get the 
 best effect: then the density of the white wood is 
 
THE PROPHET S MOUNTAIN. 361 
 
 known for the first time; then the openings made by 
 the choppers seem vast and infinitely wild. Shrubs 
 and stumps and lone trees are clothed with celestial 
 robes. And, in the night, the silence of the woodland 
 is most suggestive of the presence of mysterious and 
 infinite powers : in the day we are listening, but in the 
 night we hope for no sound ; though we are sometimes 
 startled by the rising of the wind, or the fall of a tree 
 or heavily laden bough. 
 
 Amid such scenery, my mind was bearing a heavy 
 burden. I was almost borne down by the sense of 
 sudden loss in the death of my friend ; and I was glad 
 to be alone in those very solitudes where he and I had 
 walked and talked and prayed so often, that every 
 rood was sacred ground. I was certain that my mind 
 would best adjust itself to what seemed an overwhelm 
 ing loss, by taking up again my friend s life work, and 
 in his old haunts doing as he did, in giving hours by 
 night and by day to the business of pleading with God : 
 interceding for pagan populations, and for hard people 
 at home ; and, conscious of one s own weakness, pray 
 ing for a ministry of still greater power to win men to 
 Christ. And I remembered the solitary days and the 
 night watches of our Saviour ; and rather wondered that 
 I had not oftener found hours after sunset, or lonely 
 days, when I could entreat for the souls of my people 
 and all earth s millions. 
 
 When it came to be about the noon of the night, I 
 found a place under the lee of a large hemlock, where 
 the snow carpet was at first thin, and had been dis- 
 
362 THE PROPHET S MOUNTAIN. 
 
 solved by the rays of the sun at noon. The spot was 
 quite dry. Spreading boughs upon it, I was here for a 
 long time. When I returned to my rocky house and 
 slept, I was still dreaming about the school that is to 
 be, and sometime I would like to relate my dream. 
 
 As I awoke, I saw the rising sun putting rose tints 
 on the snow. My comrade had clambered to the roof 
 of our stone cottage. Climbing to his side, I found 
 him reading the words of Jesus. And these were the 
 words he read : " If ye abide in me, and my words 
 abide in you, ye shall ask what ye will, and it shall be 
 done unto you." 
 
 " I believe," said the reader, " that this is the prayer 
 of faith, abiding in Christ and obeying His word. 
 God loves to hear such a man pray." 
 
 And there upon the spot where we had first met, we 
 renewed our consecration to God. So saw I two men 
 praying where two had prayed before ; only that now 
 one was taken, and another kneeled in his place. 
 
 When we arose, gazing into each other s faces, it 
 flashed upon me that this man, whom I thought I knew 
 when I first met him on this rock, was he of whom I 
 dreamed when I was a child. His face and figure was 
 that of the South Sea missionary who perished in the 
 cave, and who gave his son to my keeping. The con 
 trast between the meek and innocent missionary of my 
 child dreams and this man was so great, that I laughed 
 aloud and told him the reason. His merriment joined 
 mine. 
 
THE PROPHETS MOUNTAIN. 363 
 
 " Well," said he, " we will make part of the dream 
 good. I will ask you to continue to care for my boy. 
 But you must certainly call him Peter. That is my 
 true name, which my mother gave me. The name I am 
 known by is one I picked up in England. My mother 
 chose to name her sons Cephas and Peter Rock and 
 Rock. Here upon this rock, I ask you not to call my 
 son by the name Cephas gave him your name 
 Edward; but call him Peter which is Cephas." 
 
364 CORONA TION. 
 
 
 XXXIII. 
 CORONATION. 
 
 will of English Helen did not stand the 
 test of English law; and Cephas dream of a 
 new college is just as much a dream as ever. I 
 have already burned a peck of the old odds and ends, 
 which I found in his educational pigeon holes; and 
 whether I can make anything out of the half peck 
 remaining is not yet tested. He left no clear and con 
 nected statement of his views and arguments; and I 
 doubt whether I can so put together his notions on the 
 subject as to persuade all mankind to adopt them. 
 What then was the use of all his life struggling ? Did 
 he chase a phantom in vain? Not in vain. He was 
 the more careful to educate himself; and he had the 
 wider sympathies and broader views ; and he drew near 
 to God in prayer: and in it all, he sought to have no 
 will of his own; he aimed to honor his Master, and 
 undertook it for Him ; and he left it all with Him to 
 do, or defer, or never to do, according to Infinite Wis 
 dom. 
 
 In his parochial work, Cephas was from first to last 
 an obscure man, never rising to note; doing his work 
 
CORONA TION. 365 
 
 well, but certainly no better than thousands of pastors, 
 whose fame reaches little beyond their own parishes. 
 What good then did it do, all the hours of hard pray 
 ing in forest and mountain dell or by the curling sea? 
 Were his mighty aspirations and unutterable longings 
 for the widest usefulness wasted, like the sweet sound 
 of gurgling waters in a fir forest among rocky heights 
 unapproached by man? Did not He whose ear is 
 open to the cry of the jungle fowl in their native 
 thickets, or the sea birds in the desolate north, or the 
 scream of the mountain eagle, hear the voice of a man 
 who prayed in strong agony in lonely places for the 
 coming of the divine kingdom? 
 
 Cephas certainly made some very grave mistakes in 
 his parochial work. He erred in judgment. To lead 
 him to correct those errors was God s way of answering 
 his prayers ; since one s fitness to serve must be found 
 in the make up of his own character. His intent God 
 accepted. A good aim well kept to, is a good deed. 
 To live with a high ideal is a successful life. It is not 
 what one does, but what he tries to do, that makes the 
 soul strong and fit for a noble career. All that was 
 left of days and nights of agonizing cries to God, and 
 careful planning of great achievements for the divine 
 kingdom, was simply the strength of having tried to 
 do great things ; perhaps no great strength at that, but 
 surely far more than if he had slept and idled all his 
 years. 
 
 It is not a bad discipline for one to see all early 
 dreams dispelled and all plans broken, and still to 
 recognize the hand of a loving Father and Friend. 
 
366 CORONA TION. 
 
 "Though we die from off the earth," said Cephas in 
 one of his papers, "as obscurely as shell fish on the 
 shore, yet His kingdom shall increase, and His name 
 grow great, and His praises fill the earth. All life is a 
 discipline ; and if we are brought to take God s will as 
 our own, we gain the highest success that is possible to 
 man. God has disappointed a great many persons in 
 their life plans, but the world still rolls on. God will 
 not hurry forward the millennium on our account. He 
 has allowed many better men than we to die without 
 seeing it, though they much desired it. We had pet 
 plans and built them up through years : if at last they 
 fall to the ground, have we not the heart to say, Thy 
 will be done ? 
 
 The discipline of life is not so much to achieve for 
 others, as through toil for others, to perfect the indi 
 vidual workman. I am invited and commanded to 
 labor for the Lord that I may do a little, but mainly 
 that it may be tested what manner of spirit I am of. 
 I had great plans, but most likely they were not wise, 
 since God has crushed them. If I cherish a good pur 
 pose and a submissive will, what need I more ? If I am 
 not submissive my plans were secretly selfish. Yester 
 day, there failed one of my projects which I called 
 great, but it was a very petty affair after all; it is 
 pitiable, contemptible, if I am depressed by such fail 
 ure: for if I cannot endure that God s will shall be 
 done now, I shall be always making objections to 
 having the divine will done in heaven if I plant foot 
 there. Phantom foundations, fall then : and I will be 
 
CORONATION. 3^7 
 
 no more disturbed than an angel is agitated by earthly 
 changes." 
 
 But he who wrote these words was broken down and 
 made mad, in part by the failure of his earthly plans, 
 through ill health and strange sorrow, but his broken 
 purposes the severest grief of all. He wrote better 
 than he lived. When, however, I lie down in my camp, 
 
 " Where a wild stream with headlong shock 
 Comes brawling down a bed of rock 
 To mingle with the main," 
 
 I sometimes wonder a little, what the Lord meant by 
 destroying all of Cephas high endeavors in his life, 
 and then casting him into the sea. Was he not capable 
 of doing some worthy work in this world ? So wonder 
 ing, I rise and follow up this wild stream: now half 
 concealed by the tangled undergrowth, now forming 
 pools under great rocks or falling over prostrate tree 
 trunks, curling here about old roots, and there dammed 
 up by the beavers a hundred years ago, again rushing 
 wildly under high branch of aged beech or giant white 
 pine, moving again through meadows, in its course 
 falling from a considerable height in the rocky hills to 
 the sea, yet moving no mill wheel. I cannot say that 
 this brook leads a vain life. And I must believe that 
 all the quiet energy or hot haste of Cephas from early 
 childhood to middle manhood was not in vain. Little 
 did he accomplish ; perhaps as much as many, but noth 
 ing when compared with his high purposes: still, the 
 Lord of the water course must have delighted in his 
 
368 CORONATION. 
 
 wild and energetic career, even though he apparently 
 did little but run in the woods, and gained no more 
 fame than a nameless brook. 
 
 As I sit here in my camp, watching ceaseless 
 changes upon the face of the mobile sea, with snowy 
 breakers playing at my feet in hot July, I am de 
 cidedly disconcerted by the legacy my friend left me 
 the charge to overhaul his pigeon-holes. I do not want 
 to burn their contents in a lump. Cephas said that at 
 least one third of the notes he would throw away, and 
 I will ; and another third would be of some use to him, 
 
 but he cannot use them now and I will not ; while 
 the best third might be of some service to another, 
 and these I will use and work up for him as best I can. 
 
 For the past fortnight, I have every evening illumi 
 nated the forest, and made the dark rough waters 
 under the bank sparkle, by setting fire to no incon 
 siderable quantities of trash in the way of pencil notes, 
 
 which served their use when they marked Cephas 
 mental growth ; but it is to me very doubtful whether 
 the rest of his notes will set the world in a blaze, even 
 if I publish them. No man is a hero to his valet ; and 
 I fear I do not well enough appreciate my most intimate 
 friend s literary work. Perhaps I know his defects too 
 well. I am constrained to say that Cephas was not a 
 great original thinker. He had, however, at times, a 
 quaint and decidedly ingenious way of putting things. 
 He was, also, a diligent and most thoughtful reader ; 
 and he read his own mental experiences more than any 
 printed book, save the Bible. What writing Cephas 
 
CORONATION. 369 
 
 did, was often in a style singularly fresh, vigorous, and 
 likely to gain readers ; but, as often, page after page of 
 common place. That is to say, his writing was imma 
 ture. He had not learned to discriminate, and reject 
 worthless matter. Reading his sermons or essays is 
 like traveling through a country with quaint houses and 
 people, good crops, picturesque scenery some mar- 
 velously beautiful, with occasional glimpses of the 
 grand and majestic: but also many roods of monoto 
 nous and uninteresting country, pine plain; patches 
 of sand, and strips of bog. 
 
 Cephas writing was so insignificant, compared with 
 results he hoped to reach, that I ask what came of all 
 his labors, and all his prayers? In overhauling his 
 notes, I find none so instructive as those which relate 
 to his strange struggling not with his fate as a man 
 of smaller intellectual caliber than he was willing to put 
 up with but his singular pleading with the Source of 
 all Illumination ; asking that the utmost possible might 
 be made out of him as he was. I do not think he ever 
 expected the Lord to make a great man of him ; he 
 was conscious of his limitations : but he did expect the 
 Lord to make all he could out of the original material. 
 And Cephas wrestled with the Lord day and night to 
 do this for him. 
 
 But even this failed, as I think, to give my friend 
 any pre-eminent professional success. Who outside his 
 own circle ever heard of him? All his plans for in 
 tellectual improvement, extensive enough and wise 
 enough; all his diligence, which could not be sur- 
 
370 CORONA TION. 
 
 passed; and all his prayings, unceasing, fervent and 
 full of faith, sufficed to raise him only to the ordinary 
 level. He was far more of a man than would have 
 been possible under a less energetic course of self dis 
 cipline and high aiming and pleadings for help from 
 heaven. There was about him a certain personal mag 
 netism, which made me cling to him. I am confident 
 that he was much greater than his work ; his manhood 
 was in advance of his sermons. His soul culture is so 
 manifest in his writings that they appear, to a friend, to 
 have much in them, though crude. If Cephas had 
 lived twenty years longer to pursue the plan he began 
 upon, I have no doubt he would have left two or three 
 very manly and readable volumes. But he perished in 
 the sea with his work half done. 
 
 Was his student life, therefore, a failure because he 
 was cut off in the midst of his days ? Did all his high 
 purposes enter into the make-up of his soul ; adding to 
 his dignity, and somewhat to his power, as he entered 
 upon a new career in the unseen world ? Was it 
 enough that he did what he could ? I came today upon 
 this pencil note : in which Cephas placed, at the top, 
 Baxter s lines, 
 
 " If death shall bruise this springing seed, 
 
 Before it come to fruit, 
 The will with Thee goes for the deed, 
 Thy life "Was in the root." 
 
 There is added this comment, " It is not true that 
 careful studies will always make a man famous; or 
 
CORONATION. 371 
 
 that one s true mental power will be always fully devel 
 oped, or even indicated much less appreciated 
 in this world : and the man, who builds up for himself 
 an ideal future for this life, based upon an ill-grounded 
 expectation of intellectual power over men, may pre 
 pare himself to be disappointed. It is, nevertheless, 
 true that careful studies will certainly give some degree 
 of mental power; and that whatever vigor one gains in 
 this life will give success in a future sphere. He there 
 fore builds too low who builds beneath the skies." 
 
 When Cephas health was breaking up he wrote, 
 upon his boxes of papers, " This, or heaven." 
 
 Upon that morning in Central, when we separated 
 for the last time, as we were going out of my door, he 
 said, 
 
 " The mind is ever making new plans ; and if all 
 fail, our faith bids us make more definite plans for 
 another life, that in all the failures the soul may not 
 lose heaven. The soul is led by strange sorrows and 
 unutterable disappointment to turn away from the 
 earth, and look for a home on high." 
 
 My eyes were at the moment held ; and I did not 
 see that it was the beginning of the end, the setting 
 of his steps for the last jonrney. Knowing what course 
 of study he intended to pursue, I look upon his life as 
 that of an explorer entering a continent new to him, 
 making plans for travel, adventures, great gain in 
 knowledge, rich experience and material wealth, then 
 suddenly summoned to enter the heavenly country; 
 disappointed in the one plan, turning quickly to the 
 
37 2 CORONA TION. 
 
 other, as the needle turns when crossing the mag 
 netic meridian, hesitating, oscilating for a moment, 
 then swinging into the new direction, and holding 
 the course steadfastly as the polar star. I have in 
 hand the fragment of a letter which Cephas wrote me 
 on shipboard, upon the morning of the great catas 
 trophe, in the very hour of it. 
 
 " DEAR EDWARD, 
 
 " After my late experience, I feel more than ever the 
 utter vanity of everything but a noble life: I would 
 give up the dreams of years if I could only gain that. 
 Plans for earthly fame may well fade from a mind bent 
 only on living unselfishly. Personal holiness of the 
 highest worth ; if this is gained, let all else go down. 
 
 "I have just been reading the Peninsular Campaigns. 
 Wellington declared that his final success depended on 
 his having no fixed plan, except to succeed ; he was 
 able to modfy his campaign according to circumstances : 
 while the French had a set plan, to which they must 
 adhere in all events ; and when things went very wrong, 
 they had to begin all over again, changing the whole. 
 Sometimes I think I have made my pet methods of 
 glorifying God my object in living ; while in fact if I 
 in any way fulfil the great design of life, which is to 
 glorify God, it is of no consequence whether or not I 
 carry out one of my plans. 
 
 "It was said that Arnold of Rugby awoke every 
 morning with the impression that every thing was an 
 open question. And while I admire the persistency 
 
CORONATION. 373 
 
 with which I have followed my life aims, I am ashamed 
 that I have not been more ready to honor God in His 
 way, rather than mine; and to accept heartily each 
 new revelation of his plans. I ought, every morning, 
 to have looked on all plans as open, and liable to be 
 changed any moment by my wise and loving Father. 
 
 "To learn perfect submission, to fulfil the desire 
 of that devout man who prayed that he might become 
 to God what a man s hand is to a man, is more 
 needful than that I sweat and toil and importune the 
 Lord on the subject of those miserable rags, remnants, 
 tags and tatters, that are jammed into those pigeon 
 holes which I gave into your charge, telling you, for 
 sooth, to print some part. I hereby revoke " 
 
 In that moment was heard the ringing cry, 
 " Save my child ! " " Save my child ! " 
 
 Sitting in the door of a stateroom opening on deck, 
 Cephas dropped paper and pencil, and never took 
 them up again. 
 
 My friend s chase for the "Phantom of Tragabig- 
 zanda," and " The North Star," and the pursuit of the 
 plan indicated in " The Old Red Trunk," failed utterly, 
 so far as relates to the grand results aimed for. And 
 of the peculiar ideas around which his life crystalized, 
 " The Shagbark " habit which he followed more heartily 
 and persistently than any thing else, seems the only 
 one which was pre-eminently successful. And this was 
 a miserable failure, so far as now appears, in respect 
 to those particular projects for which he plead most in 
 
 >> o? TH1 
 
374 CORONA TION. 
 
 the wilderness. Wherein, then, were his prayers avail 
 ing? Parochial work and Sunday service were appar 
 ently favored with fair but not what is commonly 
 called extraordinary success. As to his prayers for the 
 wide world s population; and all his crying unto God 
 for the coming of the divine kingdom, the words of Sir 
 Thomas Browne might have been often in his mouth, 
 
 " If God hath vouchsafed an ear to my supplications, 
 there are surely many happy that never saw me, and 
 enjoy blessing of mine unknown devotions." 
 
 It is very certain that Cephas never impugned the 
 divine promises to answer prayer; but felt to the end 
 fully satisfied that God heard him, and gave him what 
 he most needed, an answer in substance if not in 
 form : and if he was satisfied, no one else can find 
 fault. The answer, which he believed himself to have 
 received, and the only one that I know of his receiving, 
 was the personal discipline, which came of all his high 
 aiming and walk with God. Was this enough? 
 
 I am sometimes struck with a sense of the ludicrous, 
 when I think of the eccentric wanderings into which 
 Cephas wild Shagbark led him. I ask, What is the 
 use? Why did he not, if he wanted anything of God, 
 stay at home and obtain it like a Christian man upon 
 his knees in his study? Instead of this, likely enough, 
 I read a rough pencil note, which indicates that he 
 went out upon a starlight night and climbed the back 
 of an abrupt hill, rugged with rocks, uprooted trees and 
 timber fallen criss-cross; the hill being surrounded 
 by deep ravines and encircled with dark mountains. 
 
CORONATION. 375 
 
 Here, perhaps, he ascended a towering rock to watch 
 the meteors as they streamed through the heavens, and 
 to pray for his studies, his people, distant friends, 
 far countries and for the coming generations of men. 
 Then descending to cross a raVine on his way to the 
 place commonly called home he had to feel his way 
 very carefully with shagbark stick to find firm foothold ; 
 passing thus several hundred feet at a very sharp angle 
 over the debris of fallen ledges, by a path ill defined 
 and torn by frequent heavy showers, where one misstep 
 might have been well nigh fatal. 
 
 I ask, What is the use? I am more impressed by 
 the strangeness of his conduct, than by his devotion. 
 I less admire his intercession than wonder that this 
 Wild Man did not break his neck. To him, it was an 
 hour in the secret place of the Almighty ; but 1 do not 
 recommend others to try it. And now that the sea has 
 swallowed him up, I inquire of myself, What came of 
 all his strivings in the hours of solitude? No marvel 
 ous result appeared in his outer life. His life broke 
 like a bubble on the sea. Was his the prayer of faith, 
 to be answered in some future time unknown? Was 
 it answer enough, that his soul grew nobler day by day? 
 Was his voice no more than the wild cry of a buffeted 
 sea bird? Were his hours of agony or ecstatic joy 
 merely a beautiful display of the devotional spirit, like 
 the white flowers of the sea that spring and blossom 
 upon the crest of rising waves then fall and fade upon 
 the beach? 
 
 " Perhaps," said Cephas one day, " God will not give 
 
376 CORONATION. 
 
 us the trivial things we pray for, but that which is far 
 better, patience, the development of faculties, and 
 eternity for the use of powers well schooled on the 
 earth.-" 
 
 Who shall say that his prayers failed, because they 
 did not exalt him to a life of fame ? Did he not gain 
 the highest life possible to him? Did he not feel as 
 well satisfied in his course, as any men around him 
 about the success of their common employments ? 
 
 " Miners," said Cephas, amid California gold diggers, 
 "go to the top of all these high hills, and prospect 
 everywhere. I go to the hill s to find deep closets for 
 communing with God. These prospect holes afford 
 concealment when I ply the pages of my Testament. 
 The miners often dig a little and quit, finding nothing 
 to repay them. I get unrecorded wealth, infinite store 
 of wisdom, better to me than choicest ore. Here is an 
 old lode, deep cut, long worked and bereft of its 
 treasures ; I find it still rich in the kind of wealth most 
 prized in the heavenly country where I shall soon 
 travel." 
 
 It shall make no difference to you, reader, whether or 
 not the wisdom he found there be ever printed for you 
 in vellum and gold, so long as he himself felt satisfied 
 with it. 
 
 "It is true," adds Cephas, "that I do not exhibit all 
 this wonderful wealth to my neighbors ; but I pore over 
 it in secret places, as a miser over his coins. If I have 
 said or written any thing useful, I dug the wisdom out 
 of hill tops, in the stillness of mountain valleys, in deep 
 
CORONATION. 377 
 
 ravines along water courses, in dark forests, among 
 sands of the seaside, or from crags on the coast. The 
 metal bearing mountains treasure houses of gold and 
 silver among the clouds and the shores of two seas 
 have been sources of boundless wealth to me ; since 
 everywhere I have found God present ready to illumi 
 nate my darkness, and to give me spiritual gems better 
 than the traffic of commerce and the jewels of eastern 
 kings. Glittering stones and shining gold are nothing 
 to me, if I go abroad and talk with Heaven s King. 
 Our mountain birds are rare, but when upon the banks 
 of our wild rivers I open the Word, the Dove of God 
 appears as in old times ; and I seem to see the Son of 
 Man, and to hear the voice from Heaven." 
 
 I am led to feel that somehow such experiences 
 brought a rich reward to the character of him who had 
 them. I eannot ask whether or not this prayer or that 
 was answered, for I am persuaded that to his mind all 
 things were answered ; he was satisfied in the shining 
 of the Light of life. Perhaps in his seeking for con 
 stant communion with God such as the angels have, 
 and always aiming for that, he was content with the 
 fame he might look for in heaven. 
 
 "Here," says Cephas in one of the notes I came 
 upon a few days ago, " is a South African missionary, 
 who has a reputation among his savage parishioners for 
 skill in making three legged stools ; and they know 
 nothing of the fame for scholarship which he has in his 
 own country. So, if we ha^e much secret converse 
 with God, our reputation on the earth will be always 
 
378 CORONATION. 
 
 less than what we have in heaven our own country. 
 Our best qualities are better known there than here." 
 
 I must ask pardon of my readers, for the obtrusion 
 upon their notice of this Shagbark habit in such man 
 ner and to such extent in this account of Cephas life. 
 I have no reason to suppose that the notes on this 
 topic which I have found among his papers were ever 
 designed to see the light, certainly not in the form I 
 have used them. He made notes on his experiences 
 just as he made notes on books ; he used them in ser 
 mon writing, and would have done so still further if he 
 had been spared to write up his papers. But there was 
 nothing egotistical or morbidly self conscious in his 
 mind, in so writing. I must take to myself the blame, 
 if I have made him appear at disadvantage. And I 
 must also warn the reader that, in looking over what I 
 have written, I find I have idealised this partof his life 
 too much. 
 
 Certainly, there was not, in this respect, any peculiar 
 sanctity about my friend s life ; or if there was, he wist 
 not that his face shone. It may be that what I have 
 written, founded upon the facts in Cephas life, has 
 been too strongly put. I ought to say frankly, that he 
 was too much alone for his health ; his nerves were not 
 always able to bear the weight of care and joy and 
 intensity of experience, which characterized these lonely 
 hours. He came to be fully conscious of this ; and to 
 some extent modified his course, turning his loved 
 hours of communion into blissful moments for a time ; 
 although, to the end, he appears to have found the God 
 
CORONA TION. 379 
 
 of his solitude to be the source of rest and his Physi 
 cian, as well as One to whom he applied for the 
 arousing of all his faculties, and for the moulding of 
 men around him. 
 
 I know, however, that, in spite of all drawbacks, the 
 gladdest hours of earth to him were found in his long 
 walks. And, shall I confess it, I sometimes wish 
 I could have such joy and ecstasy in devotion as he 
 had, month after month and year after year. Although 
 I can myself never be turned from my habit of trying 
 to see the Saviour face to face in my own study at 
 accustomed hours and whenever I look up, yet I 
 believe that if one s study is out of doors the vision of 
 the Master may become more vivid; so that I often 
 imagine myself sitting or walking with my books in the 
 woods, and in mental pictures I pray unto God in the 
 wildernes. My own personal habits I find it difficult 
 to change, and each month I am more wedded to my 
 study table and to indoor experiences. Since Cephas 
 death, I have had no heart to walk the woods as I used 
 to do. 
 
 I have thought, nevertheless, that some younger man 
 may be led to do what I cannot do. If I have felt 
 more interest in this part of my story of Cephas 
 career than any other, it is because I desire more than 
 anything else to impart to some one by this account, 
 an irrepressible purpose to walk with God out of doors, 
 some hours every day ; if not^or the power of interces 
 sion or the growth of the soul, then for the unutterable 
 joy of it, as if hours of heaven could be found in 
 
380 CORONA TION. 
 
 common forest paths or on familiar shores. Homely 
 pastures, tame hills, tangled with scrubby growth, or 
 monotonous plains, may thus rise to more dignity than 
 the Elysian fields. New life will kindle and glow in 
 the heart of every one who will take some hours daily 
 for talking over all hopes and fears and aspirations and 
 perplexities, with the Son of Man. 
 
 In view of the strange ending of Cephas life, cutting 
 off his life when hardly begun, I cannot help feel 
 ing that perhaps after all his life was a success, inas 
 much as he learned to walk with God ; albeit his plans 
 all failed, and he and his attempted work have perished 
 from off the earth, leaving little more mark than one 
 of the waves that washed Salisbury beach last flood 
 tide. I look gladly on this Shagbark stick at my side, 
 and think what it meant to him. And this is to me his 
 most precious monument. Some days I bear it to 
 the sea; and look out on the waste of waters which 
 wash and roar over his grave. And I think of the 
 dense showers of tiny shells constantly falling upon 
 the sea s bottom, which have ere this covered his 
 frame : or, if I may dare to dream of what he himself 
 once suggested, I imagine that new vitality has been 
 given to his cold clay, since it has become incorpo 
 rated in the swift bodies of the inhabitants of the 
 waters. I am sure I care not, as he cared not, for the 
 body. I look upon this stout staff in my hand as the 
 instrument his soul use4 in compelling success to 
 crown his years. A record of efficient work in training 
 men and moulding society, and the record of thoughts 
 
CORONATION. 381 
 
 which may instruct after ages, do not make up a suc 
 cessful life if the soul be self satisfied, self seeking, and 
 self inspired. If I could carry this Shagbark, all other 
 sceptres might be taken away; for I believe that by 
 this I could win the highest success of which I am 
 capable. Is it not true, that to take the Word of God, 
 and to learn from it how to prevail in prayer and 
 especially in intercession, is the great secret of all 
 moral power ? 
 
 The true CORONATION of life is found in our personal 
 discipline, never in merely doing this or that. The 
 story of Cephas is that of an obscure man, with high 
 aims and apparently wise means of gaining them ; he 
 failed largely through his own fault, yet he won life s 
 battle. The ultimate use of all our life plans is that 
 they are the scaffolding by which to build up the soul 
 into the likeness of the Perfect Man. Self sacrifice for 
 others, prayer to God, submission to the divine will, 
 are not the end of life ; these are the instruments which 
 God bids men use, as if they were all and in all : but 
 the CORONATION is found in the perfected soul itself, 
 a spirit made fit for bearing a kingly part among princi 
 palities and powers. The true power of him who is 
 thus perfected consists in the indwelling of those 
 principles of life which characterized the Son of Man ; 
 so that in some true sense Christ is the CORONATION of 
 every perfected life. 
 
 "Give me in a few lines directions how to live," 
 asked the English detective of Cephas in the last con 
 versation they ever had. 
 
382 CORONA TIOA . 
 
 These were the words written in answer, " To gain 
 good sense and perfect faith is enough. To know how 
 to manage one s affairs with good judgment and to lead 
 a well proportioned life, is to fulfil well the earthly 
 mission. There are men enough who know how to 
 manage money, who are fools in their neglect of 
 spiritual interests. To make wise plans for worthy 
 work is the best thing for a manly man to aim for: 
 if this is done, the life is successful whether or not the 
 plans are fulfilled. 
 
 " You have noticed that young men with little experi 
 ence in life, are more conscious of their own powers 
 than acquainted with the powers of other men and the 
 conditions of work in this world. Their energy is, 
 therefore, better developed than their judgment; so 
 that it is not uncommon to find them pushing with an 
 amazing force for heights they will never attain. But 
 if they form hard habits of toil, and live by faith as 
 well as works, they are likely to obtain that personal 
 discipline which is true success in life. He who gives 
 himself wholly to the work of gaining those elements 
 of character which truly represent the divine life, is in 
 the right line of living. This does not require much 
 capital ; and one place is as good as another to do this 
 business in." 
 
 I have lately visited the old home scenes, where 
 Cephas and I were boys together. The pines are 
 growing thick in the pastures where we once played. 
 The lower limbs are dying and dropping as the trees 
 
CORONA TION. 383 
 
 grow higher ; so die the ideas and habits of childhood 
 as we rise year by year to higher manhood. The new 
 growths of pine in their turn, drop off as the topmost 
 boughs seek the free air and the sunlight ; so we 
 mourn not the fall of aspirations and projects once the 
 means of our growth, which we now drop off like the 
 under branches of thick growing pines. Our life plans 
 aid our growth this year and the year following ; but as 
 we get our heads into a better atmosphere, we forget 
 the dead branches below. As I think of the boyhood 
 days, it seems like a dream that such a lad or young 
 man ever lived: and I say to myself, There never 
 was such a man as Cephas; and no one ever lived 
 such a life as I have fondly seen in vision when I have 
 thought of him. But if it be so, it is a profitable dream 
 to have; and I will stand to it as true. 
 
 Very often, when I am walking alane, or sitting in 
 my house, I have a panoroma of surprising beauty sud 
 denly pass before my eyes; a vision of snow-clad 
 mountains rising high in the sunlight, with forest clad 
 ravines and white streams dashing down their rocky 
 channels. They can never fade from my mind; and 
 often they appear to me unlooked for, like sights of 
 some celestial country in which I once dwelt many 
 days. Range on range they rise, like a wall against 
 the sky. I ride along their base. I am hidden within 
 their ravines. I ascend one of the outskirting hills. I 
 behold the giant peaks near at hand. Or if I scale the 
 high wall of the Great Range itself, I find myself riding 
 upon the topmost wave of a sea of mountains. I am 
 
384 CORONATION. 
 
 glad that I once went through just such experiences, 
 and that I can often recall those wonderful sights in 
 these days when I live in a common country. So 
 comes to my mind, again and again, the memory of 
 him who was often my companion amid the grandest 
 scenes in nature ; with whom I walked day after day 
 in the mountains, as if we could measure 
 
 " The stony girdle of the world." 
 
 One picture I shall never forget. The white pyra 
 mids of the Snowy Range in winter were not unfre- 
 quently seen in brilliant sunlight, when all the rest of 
 the landscape was darkened with clouds. My memory 
 of Cephas stands in my mind in perpetual sunshine ; 
 and I gaze upon it when clouds and darkness over 
 spread everything else. He who was my good genius 
 while he lived, still stands upon the earth ; and day by 
 day I find myself looking that way, as if he were part 
 of the natural scenery of this globe. As I think of him 
 today, I remember a rainbow I once saw in the moun 
 tains. One foot rose from a deep ravine, the other 
 resting high on a mountain side ; and the sunlight was 
 shining upon a mountain top under the height of the 
 arch; every where else there was darkness and dense 
 rain pouring. Deep clouds and the rain are now 
 around me ; but upon my friend the sunlight is shining 
 today, and over him bends the arch of glory. 
 
THE BOY PETER. 385 
 
 XXXIV. 
 THE BOY PETER. 
 
 I AM living today in a dream. I have received a 
 water-soaked diary from the South Seas. Peter 
 Spriggs went to Australia, and engaged in active 
 mission work in the colony. And he perished by 
 wreck in a cave, just as I dreamed when a child. An 
 account of this wreck appeared in our commercial 
 papers and in one of our monthlies, though I still cling 
 to the imagery of my dream as the more authentic ac 
 count. 
 
 But this boy Peter is no dream. He is at this 
 moment playing with my boat at the foot of the garden. 
 The son of the missionary hopes to become a mission 
 ary, and voyage for distant countries. He is fascinated 
 with everything pertaining to the sea. Quite aside 
 from Cephas and his brother, I take to this boy, since 
 he is just like me in this. 
 
 The endless murmur of the waters never died out of 
 my memory, after I first heard it upon the sands of 
 Ipswich beach. To listen at night to the sound of the 
 surge afar off, to walk all day on the wave-washed shore 
 amid the crash of billows, made a visit to the seaside 
 
386 THE BOY PETER. 
 
 an era in my chilhood. And when as a man, I had a 
 home on the brink of the ocean, and first saw the waves 
 in a storm bursting upon the coast with terrific power ; 
 and looked upon the shattered ledges, where the waves 
 had been blasting and hewing and chipping the hard 
 rocks by day and by night for unnumbered centuries ; 
 or when I went inland, and heard the chambers of the 
 woods resound with the regular fall of the waves on the 
 unseen beach, it was only a little while before I 
 found myself everywhere searching for the sea. No 
 prospect from hills a little inland was perfect without 
 the sight or the sound of the ocean. I came to be 
 oppressed with the silence of country towns ; they 
 seemed to keep perpetual Sabbath. At home I was on 
 the world s highway ; and though there was no con 
 tinual clatter of countless carts, there was the unceas 
 ing plash of unnumbered waves. The mirthful ripple 
 or the angry roar was always ringing in my ears ; and 
 the din of the Atlantic mingled day and night with the 
 voices of the children, and was heard at the table, or in 
 watches by the sick bed. I came to feel that the sea 
 was part of my household : and when I journeyed back 
 from the coast I was like an outcast having no home,, 
 wherever I might lodge or wander. 
 
 This boy Peter, with name like a rock, would love to 
 stand all day upon a rock in the edge of the sea to 
 help do battle with the waves. He came to me this 
 morning, to read with sparkling eyes from his book: 
 " The sea gods, it is said, quit during the hours of dark 
 ness their palaces under the deep; they seat them- 
 
THE BOY PETER. 387 
 
 selves on promontories, and their eyes wander over the 
 expanse of the waves." By the hour together, he 
 delights to watch from some height the greedy waters 
 encroach upon the marshes, till 
 
 " The low green prairies of the sea " 
 
 are covered by the advancing tide. And he is* always 
 finding some new phrase from his Homer to picture the 
 sea. Yesterday, it was 
 
 " The silver ensigns of his waves, " 
 
 making Xanthus represent the white caps, when the 
 wind stirs up the sea. When he sees schools of fish 
 ruffling the water along shore ; or looks upon a gull 
 floating far above us, then descending to rest with 
 
 " His heart upon the heart of ocean, 
 * * learning all its mystic motion, 
 And throbbing to the throbbing sea," 
 
 he feels that he himself must leap into the tide, and 
 struggle with the blinding billows on the beach ; or he 
 will dive from our boat when sledge-like blows of 
 heavy waves are striking against us and buffet with 
 the briny crests, " ever climbing up the climbing 
 wave." 
 
 Not yet does he know the dark tragedies of the sea, 
 not yet has he read the record of his own drawing forth 
 from the waters. The sea is a robber and full of 
 
388 THE BOY PETER. 
 
 graves. English Helen s death was hastened by long 
 pounding on the bar in a storm at the mouth of an 
 English harbor. Cephas, and his brother, and the 
 brother s wife so like the first Helen, were the victims 
 of the sea. The grave of Helen on the Island Home 
 has been almost swept into the ocean. The mighty 
 waves have, in these last years, broken through a thin 
 barrier of rock and found an approach to the cliff 
 where her body lies, and have torn out the soil; and 
 now "the foaming tusks of the sea" are goring the 
 rocks at the base of the crag. 
 
 So find I the sea mingling with my affairs, as if it 
 were one of the characters of this story; an instrument 
 in moulding the spiritual nature of men and shaping 
 their destiny : rather, these incidents, which are so 
 much to me, form a minute part of the grand story of the 
 sea. With the domestic affairs of how many households 
 has the sea mingled age after age : the fate of nations 
 has been like a drop in a bucket, when the surging deep 
 has lifted up its voice to utter the mandate of God; 
 armies and navies have been tossed about like toys, 
 by no will of their own. So stand we in relation to the 
 eternal ages and God s great plan of governing the 
 universe ; the sea is a symbol of the Infinite Power in 
 His relation to us, loving, consoling, bereaving, and 
 opening to us the hopes of future ages and a career 
 worthy the human soul. This sea itself is nothing, 
 we make paper boats; but we are preparing for the 
 grander scenes. 
 
 Looking from my window, I see a long absent ship 
 
THE BOY PETER. 389 
 
 coming into the home harbor; she has rounded to, the 
 sails are shivering; how soon will all disembark, and 
 how soon will all sail in unseen ships for a new coun 
 try. To voyage for the unknown regions, to participate 
 in a life concerning which we know in part, to learn 
 more of the Infinite Friend under His own guiding, 
 this is the unspeakable boon of life, to enter into life 
 everlasting; where all earthly friendships which have 
 been worthy that name will find new felicity, without 
 disease or death or sin. 
 
 TJ2TI7IRSITT] 
 
14 DAY USE 
 
 RETURN TO DESK FROM WHICH BORROWED 
 
 LOAN DEPT. 
 
 This book is due on the last date stamped below, or 
 
 on the date to which renewed. 
 Renewed books are subject to immediate recall. 
 
 * 
 
 REC O ; ~ 
 

il