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ALVMNVS BOOK FVND 
 
MARGARET: 
 
 A TALE OF THE 
 
 REAL AND THE IDEAL, BLIGHT AND BLOOM; 
 
 INCLUDING 
 
 SKETCHES OF A PLACE NOT BEFORE DESCRIBED, 
 
 CALLED 
 
 IONS CHEISTI. 
 
 IN TWO VOLUMES. 
 
 REVISED EDITION. 
 
 " It is the vernal season ; for the heart is every moment longing to walk in the 
 garden, and every bird of the grove is melodious in its carols as the nightingale ; 
 thou wilt fancy it a dawning zephyr of early spring, or new year s day morning ; 
 but it is the breath of Jesu?, for in that fresh breath and verdure the dead earth 
 is reviving." SAADI. 
 
 BY THE AUTHOR OF "PIIILO," AND "RICHARD EDNEY AND THE 
 GOVERNOR S FAMILY." 
 
 vor.uiv-E )i. 
 
 BOSTON: 
 PHILLIPS, SAMPSON AND COMPANY. 
 
 1857. 
 
Entered according to Act of Congress, in the year 1851, by 
 
 SYLVESTER JUDD, JR., 
 in the Clerk s Office of the District Court of the District of Massachusetts. 
 
ft* 
 
 V 2- 
 MA-lAJ 
 
 CONTENTS OP VOLUME II. 
 
 CHAPTER III. Christianity ...... 1 
 
 CHAPTER IV. Sundry Matters ...... 34 
 
 CHAPTER V. Mr. Evelyn. Margaret. Eose ... 45 
 
 CHAPTER VI. The Husking Bee ..... 79 
 
 CHAPTER VII. The Arrest. Deliberation of the People on 
 
 the State of Affairs in Livingston ..... 92 
 
 CHAPTER VIII. The Trial ..... * . 108 
 
 CHAPTER IX. Margaret and Chilion .... 131 
 
 CHAPTER X. The Execution ...... 147 
 
 CHAPTER XL Margaret Goes to the Bay . . . . 160 
 
 PART III. WOMANHOOD. 
 
 CHAPTER XII. The History of Mr. Girardeau . . . 189 
 
 d I 
 
CHAPTER III. 
 
 CHRISTIANITY. 
 
 ANOTHER day Mr. Evelyn came to the Pond. Margaret 
 watched his approach with composure, and returned his 
 greeting without confusion. "You have been on the Head," 
 said she, " and I must take you to other places to-day. 
 First the Maples." 
 
 "This is a fine mineralogical region," said he, as they 
 entered the spot. "I wish I had a hammer." 
 
 " I will get one," said she. 
 
 " Let me go for it." 
 
 " You are not in health, you told me, and you do not look 
 very strong. I must go, by all means. - I will be back in 
 a trice. You will have quite as much walking as you can 
 master before the day is through." 
 
 " I fear I shall be more tired wondering than in going." 
 
 " See this," said he, exposing a hollow stone filled with 
 rare crystals, which he found and broke during her ab 
 sence. 
 
 " I thank you, I thank you," she replied. " The Master has 
 given me an inkling of geology, but I never imagined such 
 beauty was hidden here." 
 
 " With definite forms and brilliant texture these gems 
 vegetate in the centre of this rough, rusty stone." 
 
 " Incomparable mystery ! New Anagogics ! I begin to 
 be in love with what I understand not." 
 
 " Humanity is like that." 
 
 " What is Humanity ? " 
 
 VOI IT, 1 
 
* MARGARET. 
 
 " It is only another name for the World that you asked 
 me about." 
 
 " I am perplexed by the duplicity of words. He is hu 
 mane who helps the needy." 
 
 " That is one form of Humanity. I use the term as ex 
 pressing all men collectively viewed in their better light. 
 Much depends upon this light, phase, or aspect, what sub 
 jectively to us is by the Germans called stand-point. In 
 dian s Head, in one position, resembles a human face, in 
 another quite as much a fish s tail. Man, like this stone, is 
 geodic such stones, you know, are called geodes " 
 
 " Have you the skill to discover them ? " 
 
 " It is more difficult to break than find them. Yet if I 
 could crack any man as I do this stone, I should open to 
 crystals." 
 
 " Any man ? " 
 
 "All men." 
 
 " Passing wonderful ! I would run a thousand miles for 
 the hammer ! I have been straining after the stars, how 
 much there is in the stones ! Most divine Earth, hence 
 forth I will worship thee ! Geodic Androids! What will 
 the Master say ? " 
 
 " I see traces of more gems in these large rocks. Let 
 me rap here, and lo ! a beryl ; there is agate, yonder is a 
 growth of garnets." 
 
 " Let me cease to be astonished, and only learn to love." 
 
 "An important lesson, and one not too well learned." 
 
 " Under this tree I will erect a Temple to the God of 
 Rocks. Was there any such ? Certes, I remember none." 
 
 " The God of Rocks is God." 
 
 " You sport enigmas. Let us to Diana s Walk." 
 
 They perambulated the forest touching upon various spots 
 of interest to Margaret, She had given name and popula- 
 
CHRISTIANITY. 3 
 
 tion to many a solitary place, and for a long while had been 
 deepening her worship and extending her supremacy, such 
 as it was, over the region. Tired at last, they sat down 
 under the trees. 
 
 " You will not relish such a walk and so many gods, I 
 fear," said she. 
 
 "I could pursue the woods forever," was his reply. " The 
 trees give me more than my acquaintances." 
 
 " They are my home," remarked Margaret, " I was born 
 in them, have been sheltered under them, and educated by 
 them, and do sometimes believe myself of them. The 
 Master rightly says I have a fibrous disposition. I used to 
 think I came of an acorn, and many a one have I opened 
 to find a baby brother or sister. Am I not an automative 
 vegetable, a witch-hazle in moccasons ? The Master says 
 1 am of the order Bipeds, and species Shnulacrens ; 
 distinguished by thirty-two teeth, and having the superior 
 extremities terminated by a hand which is susceptible of a 
 greater variety of motions than that of any other animal, 
 and is remarkably prehensile ; that it inhabits all parts of 
 the earth ; is omnivorous; and disputes for territory, 
 uniting together for the express purpose of destroying its 
 own kind ; that I am of the variety Caucasiana, differing 
 from the Americana in this, that my feet are a little broader 
 just above the toes, and from the Simia in the configuration 
 of the thumb. For my own part, I incline to the Sylvian 
 analogy, only my clothes are not half so durable as this 
 bark, nor my hair so becoming as the leaves, and I must 
 undress myself at night and take to my bed, while the trees 
 sleep standing and unhooded. Then what a pother we 
 make about eating, while the tree lives on its own breath, 
 and easier than a duck, muddles for nourishment with its 
 roots." 
 
4 MARGARET. 
 
 " You will not overlook the mind, the spirit, the fabled 
 Psyche; the inner voluntary life, the diversifier of action, 
 the possibility of achievement, the gubernator of matter, 
 the annotator of the Universe, the thinking, willing, loving, 
 aspiration and submission, retrospection and prospection, 
 smiling and weeping, speech and silence, right and wrong, 
 art, poetry, music, heroism and self-renunciation, the self- 
 consciousness of infinite aifinities all, all demonstrate the 
 separateness and superiority of man." 
 
 " I know what you say is true, and when I hear it said, 
 I shall feel it to be so. Talk some more." 
 
 " The tree has no sense of happiness, like you and me, 
 nor does it possess the capability of wretchedness. It exists 
 for our pleasure. He, the Soul of all, the supreme Intelli 
 gence, the uncreated Creator, the invisible Seer, has 
 caused it to grow for our use. Even now I feel Him, 
 called in our tongue God, in the Greek Theos, in the 
 Hebrew Jehovah, in the Indian Manitcu. His life inflames 
 my life, his spirit inspires my spirit. All that is now about 
 1 us is his, arid he in it ; the beauty of the forest is the 
 tincture of his beneficence, the breeze is the fanning of his 
 mercy, the box-berries and mosses are his, the rocks and 
 roots, the dancing shadows, the green breaks into the blue 
 sky are his creation, the fair whole of color, perfume and 
 form, the indescribable sweet sensation that swells in our 
 breasts, are his gift and his presence in the gift ; they are 
 the figures woven into the tapestry that robes the Universe, 
 the fragrance that fills the vinaigrette of Creation. Through 
 all and in all pierces his Spirit, that blows upon us like the 
 wind." 
 
 " But what becomes of my pretty Pantheon, Apollo 
 and Bacchus, Diana and Egeria, before this all-deluging 
 One?" 
 
CHRISTIANITY. 
 
 " That belongs to what is termed Mythology, a mixture 
 of imagination, religion and philosophy. Apollo, for 
 instance, as Tooke will tell you, denotes the sun ; and of 
 the arts ascribed to him, prophesying, healing, shooting, 
 music, we discover a lively prototype in that luminary. In 
 Hindoo Mythology is Brahma, an uncouth image, coarsely 
 done in stone, which Christians affect to despise, having 
 the form of an infant with its toe in its mouth, floating on a 
 flower over a watery abyss. It signifies that in some of 
 the renovations which the world is supposed to have under 
 gone, the wisdom and designs of God will appear as in their 
 infant state ; Brahma, that is God the Creator, floating on 
 a leaf, shows the instability of things at that period ; the 
 toe sucked in the mouth implies that Infinite wisdom subsists 
 of itself ; and the position of the body, bent into the form 
 of a ring, is an emblem of the circle of eternity. It is a 
 mere hint at the highest ideas, and by its very rudeness 
 effectually anticipates the error of diverting attention from 
 the substance to the shadow, and if worship be performed 
 before it, it is none otherwise than what is done in our 
 Churches, which are styled, preeminently, houses of God, 
 sanctuaries or sacred places. The Northern nations, 
 inheriting the germs of spirituality from the East, superadded 
 Beauty, and elaborated the Symbol in the fairest forms of 
 Art. Their Statues also were an embodied Allegory, a 
 sort of Encyclopaedia of truth. Now-a-days we have lost 
 the ancient idea, and so split up our systems of knowledge, 
 that a statue is no more than a handsomely wrought stone ; 
 and sometimes we vituperate the attention paid to it, as 
 Idolatry It furnished to the eye what a written treatise 
 does to the understanding ; or in brief the chisel did the 
 work of the pen. To the Greeks, a statue was at once a 
 Church and a Book, it was Beauty and Inspiration, Truth 
 1* 
 
6 MARGARET. 
 
 and Illustration, Philosophy and Religion. The human 
 form is more expressive than any other, and genius seized 
 upon that as the most fitting instrument for conveying 
 ideality, and ennobled man while it symbolized his frame." 
 
 " So Apollo is a creation of God ? " 
 
 " The original on which that is founded is a creation of 
 God ; or I should say, Apollo, representing certain facts in 
 the creation of God, or certain attributes of God, his culture 
 was observed by different nations under different names, 
 till at last some artist, fusing as it were the popular idea in 
 his own, wrought the whole in marble, and so gave us the 
 Belvidere." 
 
 What are we ? What am I ? " 
 
 "In the words of the biblical Job, whom I fear you know 
 less about than you do about the Widow Luce s Job, 
 * There is a spirit in man, and the inspiration of the 
 Almighty hath given them understanding. God himself 
 breathes into us the breath of spiritual life. This divine 
 afflatus animates the embryon existence. The spirit 
 assumes a material framework which it must qnit at last. 
 Our souls coming from God return to him. We are ever- 
 living as the Divinity himself. The bosom of the Infinite, 
 while it nourishes us here, is our ultimate home. God 
 creates us in his own image, and we like him go on to 
 create. He weaves, and we are his warp and filling." 
 
 Who winds the spools ? " 
 
 " You are more at home in the detail, Miss Hart, than I 
 am, and I leave you to answer that question yourself. 
 But, we the woof, are also weavers. God weaves and we 
 weave ; He dwells in us and we in him, St. John says. 
 1 He clothes the grass of the field, Christ says. * He works 
 in us, St. Paul says." 
 
 " Did God work in the artist that made the Apollo ? " 
 
CHRISTIANITY. 7 
 
 " Yes ; all beautiful works of man are an inspiration of 
 the Almighty. We read in the Old Testament that God 
 put -wisdom and understanding into men s hearts to know 
 how to work all manner of work, for a fabric the Jews 
 were building. It is the energy of that action wherewith 
 he endows man." 
 
 " Then I may keep my Apollo, and all my Divinities." 
 
 " I would not deprive you of any thing that shall make 
 you beautiful and strong, happy and chaste, devout and 
 simple, that shall give companionship to your solitude, 
 ministry to your susceptibilities, exercise to your imagina* 
 tion." 
 
 " You are taking the pegs out of the bars, but I will not 
 run wild I am impatient to know about Christ ; what will 
 you say of him ? I have read some in the New Testament 
 you gave me. It is the strangest book I ever saw. It 
 transported me with an unspeakable delight ; and then I 
 was overwhelmed by a painful complexity of sensations. 
 I came to where he died, and I laid down the book and 
 wept with a suffocating anguish. Then there were those 
 sanctiloquent words ! " 
 
 " That which I gave you is a version made two hundred 
 years since, when our language was imperfect, scholarship 
 deficient, biblical knowledge limited, and the popular belief 
 replete with errors ; and moreover done by men of a 
 particular sect under the dictation of a King. Of course 
 the translation suffers somewhat ; but the general truth of 
 the Gospels can no more be hindered by this circumstance, 
 than the effect of day by an accumulation of clouds. But 
 of the subject itself, Christ, what can I say ? It is almost 
 too great for our comprehension, as it certainly rises 
 above all petty disputes. How can I describe what I know 
 not? How can I embrace a nature that so exceeds my 
 
8 MARGARET. 
 
 own ? How can I tell of a love I never felt, or recount 
 attainments I never reached? Can I give out what I have 
 not, and I sometimes fear I am not completely possessed of 
 Christ. Can I, the Imperfect, appreciate the Perfect one ; 
 can I, the sinful, reveal the sinless soul? I have not Christ s 
 spirit, his truth, his joy, so integrally and plenarily, that I 
 can set him forth in due proportion and entireness. His 
 experience and character, his spiritual strength and moral 
 greatness are so transcendent, I truly hesitate at the task 
 you impose upon me. That we may portray the Poet or 
 the Artist, or any high excellence, we must square with it > 
 who, alas ! is equal to Christ ? " 
 
 "Yet," said Margaret, "all that is lies secretly coiled 
 within our own breasts ! All Beauty, I am persuaded, is 
 within us ; whatever comes to me I feel has had a pre- 
 existence. I sometimes indeed doubt whether I give or 
 receive. A flower takes color from the sun and gives off 
 color. Air makes the fire burn, and the fire makes the air 
 blow ; and the colder the weather the brisker the fire. A 
 watermelon seed can say, In me are ten watermelons, 
 rind, pulp and seeds, so many yards of vine, so many 
 pounds of leaves. In myself seems sometimes to reside an 
 infant Universe. My soul is certainly pistillate, and the 
 pollen of all things is borne to me. The spider builds his 
 house from his own bowels. I have sometimes seen a 
 wood-spider let off a thread which the winds drew out for 
 him and raised above the trees, and when it was sufficiently 
 high and strong, he would climb up it, and sail off in the 
 clear atmosphere. I think if you only begin, it will all 
 come to you. As you drain off it will flow in. The sinful 
 may give out the sinless. I long to hear what you have 
 to say." 
 
 " What you observe is too true, and I thank you for 
 
CHRISTIANITY. 9 
 
 making me recollect myself. Even the Almighty creates 
 us, and then suffers himself to be revealed in us. We, 
 motes, carry an immensity of susceptible, responsive ex 
 istence. But for this we should never love or know 
 Christ. In his boyhood, we are told, Christ waxed strong 
 in spirit, was filled with wisdom, and the grace of God was 
 upon him. His earliest developments must have been of 
 a peculiarly beautiful and striking kind. When he was 
 twelve years old, being in company of some learned people, 
 his questions and replies were of such a nature as to excite 
 astonishment at the extent of his understanding. We have 
 no authentic account of him from this until his thirtieth 
 year ; excepting that he resided with his father and pursued 
 the family avocation, that of a carpenter." 
 
 " What, do you know nothing about him when he was as 
 old as I am. or as you are, when he was fifteen, or twenty, 
 or twenty-five ? In the dream I remember he said I must 
 be like him, I must grow up with him. Had he no youth ? 
 Had he no inward sorrowful feelings as I have had ? " 
 
 " There is one of the books of the New Testament of a 
 peculiar character, and it contains some intimations respect 
 ing Christ, not found in the others. I will read a passage. 
 In the days of his flesh he offered up or poured forth 
 prayers and supplications, with strong crying and tears, to 
 him that was able to save him from death, and was heard 
 in that he feared, or, as it stands in the original, for his 
 piety* This, as I believe, points to a period of his life not 
 recorded in the other histories, and should be assigned to 
 that which you have mentioned, his youth." 
 
 " I have no doubt of it," said Margaret. "It describes 
 exactly what I have been through. Did he suffer all we 
 do?" 
 
 " Yes, his life and sufferings were archetypal of those of 
 
10 MARGARET. 
 
 all his followers. He suffered for us, says St. Peter, 
 leaving us an example that we should follow in his steps. 
 Rejoice, he says, inasmuch as ye are partakers of 
 Christ s sufferings. " 
 
 " How near this brings Christ to me ! It seems as if I 
 had him now in my heart. He too suffered ! How much 
 there is in that word ! and in this earnest, soul-deep-way ! 
 I understand his sad tender look. Apollo killed Hyacinth 
 by accident, and was very sorry. But there was no deep 
 capable soul in Apollo, was there ? I shall not think so 
 much of him, I interrupt you, Sir, go on." 
 
 " He suffered all that any being can suffer ; he was alone, 
 unbefriended, unsympathized with, unaided ; books gave 
 him no satisfaction, teachers afforded him no light. The 
 current, swift and broad, of popular error and prejudice, he 
 had to stem and turn, single-handed. lie grew in knowl 
 edge, we read ; the problems of Man, God and the 
 Universe were given him to resolve. But he was heard 
 for his piety, for his goodness. He became perfect through 
 suffering. Supernatural, divine assistance was afforded 
 him, and he conquered at last. 
 
 " At the age of thirty, when he entered what is called his 
 public ministry, which is the chief subject of history, he 
 encountered a severe temptation, such as all are liable to, 
 and was enabled to vanquish it ; he was tempted as we are. 
 He was ever without sin, neither was guile found in his 
 mouth ; he was holy, harmless, undenled. At times he was 
 made indignant at the conduct of men, he was grieved at 
 the hardness of their hearts, he groaned in sympathy with 
 human distress and wept over the follies of the race ; he 
 was persecuted by the great, and despised by his own 
 kindred ; his nearest friends deserted him, and one of his 
 chosen disciples betrayed him ; the greatness of his views 
 
CHRISTIANITY. 11 
 
 met only with bigotry, and the generosity of his heart was 
 repelled by meanness ; he carried the heavy wood on 
 w r hich he \vas crucified, and when brought as a malefactor 
 to the place of execution, he was scourged and spit upon ; 
 once prostrated by weight of anguish, even from very heat 
 of internal agony, he entreated that the bitter cup might be 
 removed ; and add to all, in the extreme stage of dissolving 
 life, for a moment his spiritual vision seemed to be dimmed, 
 and he cried out, my God ! why hast thou forsaken 
 me ? Such is a brief notice of his sufferings. Let me 
 turn to other points " 
 
 " O, Mr. Evelyn ! " exclaimed Margaret, " how can you 
 go on so ! How cold ou are ! I cannot hear any more ; " 
 and from the posture she had maintained with her eyes 
 fixed on the ground, she fell with her face into her hands, 
 and followed the act with an audible profusion of tears. 
 
 " Do forgive me, Miss Hart," said Mr. Evelyn. " I 
 have been so long familiar with this most affecting history, 
 that I know it does not move me as it should." 
 
 " I only know," said Margaret, looking up with a tender 
 smile in her tears, "that I feel it all through me, my heart 
 swells like a gourd, and I ache in a strange way. My 
 memory and my sensatons seem to be alike agitated." 
 
 " That must be sympathy ! " replied Mr. Evelyn. 
 
 " What is that sympathy? asked Margaret. "I never 
 heard, methinks, the word before." 
 
 "It is of Greek origin, and means feeling or suffering 
 with another. It denotes mutual sensation, fellow feeling ; 
 it implies also compassion, commiseration. It is defined a 
 conformity in feeling, suffering or passion with another; 
 also a participation in the condition or state of another ; 
 and also, if you are not tired of superenumeration, the 
 
12 MARGARET. 
 
 quality or susceptibility of being effected by the affection 
 of another, with feelings correspondent in kind." 
 
 " Sympathy, sympathy ! " said Margaret, " That is it. 
 You understand me now ! " 
 
 " Yes you sympathize with Christ. I can but deplore 
 my own insensibility." 
 
 " I will remember, that word ; I like to get a good word ; 
 it is a brooding hen over my ideas, it keeps them warm, and 
 ready to hatch. While you were speaking, I felt myself 
 drawn out by some strange affinities to what you said, and 
 when you came to the extreme sufferings of Christ, my 
 sensations were something such as I had when you spoke 
 about him the other day, and when I read that part of the 
 Book, only so many things being brought together, I felt 
 more. All the sadness I ever had was revived, and burst 
 within me anew." 
 
 "I was going to tell you," continued Mr. Evelyn, "that 
 in addition to, and despite all, Christ was very happy, and 
 that in manner and matter beyond what most men can con 
 ceive of, which is another secret in his character. On the 
 last day of his life, with the horrors of crucifixion impend 
 ing, he said to his sorrowing friends, Peace I leave with 
 you, my peace I give unto you. He desired, he says, that 
 joy might remain with them." He prays that his joy 
 may be fulfilled in themselves ! This I think will please 
 you." 
 
 "I believe I understand something of that too," said 
 Margaret. 
 
 " There are still other points," pursued Mr. Evelyn, 
 " I must speak of the object of Christ s coming into the 
 world, or what is known as the plan of Redemption by 
 him. Man had fallen, if you know what that means." 
 
CHRISTIANITY. 13 
 
 "I know what Pa says when he is so intoxicated he 
 can t stand. In Adam s fall, we sinned all. " 
 
 " I do not refer to that. Eve, of whom you will read in 
 the Old Testament, ate an apple from an interdicted tree, 
 which is commonly known as the Fall of Man. There is 
 no authority for such a belief. Men fall, each man for 
 himself, when they sin, that is, do wrong. At the time 
 Christ appeared, St. Paul tells us, unrighteousness, wicked 
 ness, covetousness, maliciousness, lasciviousness, envyings, 
 backbitings, murders, wrath, strife, seditions prevailed ; 
 men were inventors of evil things, disobedient to parents, 
 without natural affection, without understanding, unholy, 
 and so forth " 
 
 " I shall laugh now," said Margaret, " to hear all that 
 sanctiloquence. I must have hit upon some of those words, 
 which nearly disgusted me with the book. I have heard 
 Deacon Hadlock called a very holy man, and Pa laughed, 
 and the Master blew his nose." 
 
 " Those are words," replied Mr. Evelyn, " in common 
 and proper use when the translation was made to which I 
 referred. Having disappeared from the popular tongue, 
 and being retained only in ecclesiastical terminology, it is 
 not surprising that they sound strange to you. Rendered 
 in modern English, holiness and righteousness mean good 
 ness, virtue, rectitude, or any high moral and religious 
 excellence. As respects the other vices mentioned, we 
 have now-a-days, as you well know, war, intemperance, 
 slavery, unkindness ; and then what go by the name 
 of bigotry, irreligion, pious frauds, persecution, simony, 
 burglary, peculation, treason, perjury, kidnapping, piracy, 
 scandal, ingratitude, intrigue, bribery, meanness, social 
 inequality, governmental misrule, spirit of caste, oppres 
 sion of labor, superciliousness, are abundant These and 
 
 VOL. II. 2 
 
MARGARET. 
 
 similar things are what the Gospel denominates the works 
 of the flesh, and renders unto tribulation and anguish, as 
 evil doing. These are that whereby men break the Divine 
 Law, and separate themselves from God. But the primary 
 idea in this matter, the fundamental law of sin, the very 
 essence of the Fall, consists in this, that men ceased to 
 love. Love is the fulfilling of the law, it is the first and 
 great command ; it unites man with God and with himself. 
 In the subsidency and departure of love, the moral system 
 is revolutionized and human nature disordered. The 
 instinct of self-preservation is tortured into selfishness, the 
 desire of excellence flames into ambition, the sense of right 
 becomes the author of innumerable wrong. The whole 
 head is sick, the whole heart faint. Nature commences a 
 burdensome contention with abuse, misdirection, absurdity, 
 folly. It is ever Nature versus the Unnatural. The 
 institutions and organizations of men, founded upon the 
 new basis, partake of the general corruption, and only 
 foster evils it is their design to prevent. Love casts out 
 fear; in the absence of love, fear supersedes; hence 
 aggression and violence, superstition and the doctrine of 
 devils." 
 
 "I never feared," said Margaret ; "was that because I 
 loved?" 
 
 " Fortitude," replied Mr. Evelyn, " springs as much 
 from superiority to our enmities, as from superiority to our 
 enemies. And this reminds me, that the first voluntary 
 wrong act any man ever did was done through the absence 
 of love. But here arises a new element. We were never 
 created to do or to suffer voluntary wrong, and there is 
 generated in consequence of such acts the sense of injury. 
 Hence come all retaliations. A most mournful fact in this 
 matter is that dissonance arid disorder are themselves sym- 
 
CHRISTIANITY. 15 
 
 pathetic and reciprocal. Aversion reproduces aversion, and 
 selfishness is answered by selfishness." 
 
 " I have felt that towards Solomon Smith sometimes," 
 said Margaret. " I know he dislikes me, and I have been 
 moved to dislike him, and I suppose I should if I did not 
 feel what a ridiculous piece of business it is for one most 
 anagogical puppet to be mad with another. Arid since 
 you would also convince me he is geodic, what can I da, 
 but abide, like the ants, whose hills though trodden upon 
 are patiently renewed every morning." 
 
 " When man ceases to love, he is not only enstranged 
 from God, but the image of God within him is lost, the 
 heavenly purity of his character is sullied, and the divine 
 harmonies of his nature discomposed. But what is worst of 
 all, we are educated to regard every man with suspicion 
 and enmity. We are taught in our earliest years that men 
 are by nature totally depraved, and since total depravity 
 covers every form of sin and vice, we are in effect in 
 structed to believe every man a villain, a thief, a murderer, 
 at heart; as mean, se fish, and malicious, in his secret 
 conscious purpose. This is the cardinal doctrine of what 
 passes under the name of Christianity. It is annually 
 enforced by hundreds of thousands of discourses from 
 Bishops and Clergy in every part of Christendom. This 
 consummates the Fall ! Every youth under the operation 
 of that sympathetic and reciprocal law, to which I adverted, 
 enters life in the spirit of hostility. To receive injury he 
 expects, and accounts it not harmful to do an injury to the 
 injurious. The evil which he is made to believe all others 
 saturated with is reflected in his own bosom, and so, in spite 
 of himself, he becomes depraved. There is something 
 denominated love in the religious circles ; I should call it 
 Ecclesiastical love, because it is a figment of the Church, 
 
16 MARGARET. 
 
 to distinguish it from Christian love, which has its origin 
 in Christ, or Evangelical love founded on the Gospels. 
 After making you believe all men totally depraved, our 
 teachers endeavor to create in the breasts of the elect so 
 termed, a pity for this depravity, and to inspire them with 
 a desire to remove it, and this they call love, which is no 
 love at all, since an important element in love is that it 
 thinketh no evil, judges not. In what I have now said, 
 you see not only the Fall of man generally, but also that 
 second greater catastrophe, the Fall of the Church." 
 
 " Here I must beg of you some more explanations ; what 
 do you mean by the Church ? " 
 
 " I mean that great body of men, in all countries, of all 
 denominations and sects, who profess Christianity, in their 
 associate capacity, with their clergy, or leaders, and creeds, 
 or articles of establishment." 
 
 u Have the Church members in the Village and those 
 who groaned so at the Camp Meeting fallen? " 
 
 " Yes, all. The effect of a corrupt Christianity, or as I 
 should say of a fallen religion, is to perpetuate and augment 
 itself; and now, with very few exceptions, all share in the 
 common calamity. In the progress of decline, it became a 
 matter of course, that the Church should change its 
 standards of faith, or as we say in politics, adopt a new 
 constitution. The Gospels or Evangelicons, by which are 
 intended the personal biographies of Jesus, a book of Acts, 
 and certain documents known as Epistles, are indeed 
 accredited by all. But there arose certain things which 
 have practically superseded the Gospels. These are known 
 as Articles of the Council of Trent, of the Church of 
 England, of the Episcopal Church, of the Methodist 
 Church ; or as Creeds in our various Churches. And 
 now a man may believe the Gospels, and aim to conform to 
 
CHRISTIANITY. 17 
 
 Christ, but he is not reckoned a Christian by the Romanists 
 unless he assent to their Articles, or by the Protestants 
 unless he subscribe to their several Creeds. And they have 
 carried this matter so far, as to condemn a man to everlast 
 ing perdition if he depart from these Gospel substitutes. 
 You may examine these devices and canvass their qualities, 
 you will find no more Christianity in any one of them than 
 apple-juice in that stone. But we must bear in mind that 
 the world had fallen before the Church fell ; and it was to 
 repair the effects of this first Fall, that Christ appeared on 
 the Earth ; let us return to him. He came to renew love, 
 and reinstate men in a pure and happy condition." 
 
 " But haw could men love if they were as you describe 
 them?" 
 
 " Man never wholly loses his capacity for loving. The 
 natural susceptibility to goodness and truth can never be 
 extinguished. Our powers are perverted, not destroyed. 
 In fact, there have been holy, loving people in the world, 
 true Christians, in all times, all countries, all Churches, 
 among all religions and in every nation. Such have some, 
 times been kings, and occupied thrones, they have been 
 outcasts from society, and buried in dungeons. Among 
 princes and peasants, the affluent and the poor, the learned 
 and the ignorant, aristocrats and plebeians, have appeared 
 from time to time sincere and earnest lovers of God and 
 man. Some sympathy with Christ exists in all minds, 
 either latent or active. 
 
 " Christ came on his high embassage with credentials of 
 an authoritative and remarkable character. He was the 
 brightness of the glory of God, and the express image of 
 his person. Indeed, He and the Father were one. He 
 received, he tells us, all power from God. He was baptized 
 of the Holy Spirit. He was proclaimed the beloved and 
 2* 
 
IS MARGARET. 
 
 well-pleasing Son of God. He had gone through the ex 
 perience of life, he had studied the human mind in its every 
 phase, he understood the condition of men and was prepared 
 for the exigencies of his lot. The thirty years of his life 
 had not been spent in idleness. The effect of his address 
 was electrical. Cities poured forth their population to him 
 and the country was deserted of its inhabitants gone in 
 pursuit of him. The multitudes that thronged to hear him, 
 were so great no house could contain them, and he was 
 obliged to resort to the open air and spoke sometimes from 
 a hillside, sometimes from a boat moored by the shore. 
 But, as I have intimated, his course was not without trial 
 and obstacle. His success it was in part that contributed 
 to his unhappincss, and precipitated his death. The com 
 mon people heard him gladly, a circumstance that aroused 
 the jealousies of the higher orders, who became his unre 
 lenting antagonists. With covert insinuation and open 
 assault they pursued him, and by intrigue at last brought 
 him to the cross. 
 
 " Let me speak of what he did, of the spirit of his action 
 and the secret of his effect. Fresh and glowing he came 
 from the bosom of Heaven. His heart yearned for man as 
 for a brother. His sympathies were ardent, profuse and 
 forth-putting. His hopes were high and bright, He 
 spared himself neither privations, self-denials, inconveni 
 ences, disrepute or toil. He gave himself for our ransom, 
 his whole self, body and mind, his thought, his sagacity, his 
 activity, his health, his time, his knowledge, his popularity, 
 his example, in fact all he had or was, even to life itself ; 
 he consented that by his stripes we should be healed, by 
 his death we should live, and shed his blood to wash away 
 our sins. He was gentle and tender, the bruised reed he 
 would not break, or the smoking flax quench. Wherever 
 
CHRISTIANITY. 19 
 
 arose one feeblest aspiration to God he was prepared to 
 foment and cherish it. He made an open door of his com 
 passionate feelings, and invited to himself all who labored 
 and were heavy laden with sin and evil. He did not join 
 in the common execrations of men, or approve their 
 punitive severities ; he saw something excellent in the 
 vilest, he would win by love the most ruffianish, and the 
 profligate he bade Go, and sin no more. When he was 
 reviled he reviled not again, and when he suffered, he 
 threatened not. If he received an injury he did not re 
 taliate, but committed himself, Peter says, to him that 
 judgeth righteously/ that is, to God. 
 
 " And here we see the high moral perfection of Christ ; 
 he had so disciplined his spirit, he was so preoccupied with 
 love, and so magnanimously considerate, that enmity and 
 aversion, which in most breasts give rise to corresponding 
 qualities, in his excited only kindness and favor. Here 
 also discovers itself his sublime Heroism, that he stood 
 unshaken before all moral assaults, and faced undaunted 
 every moral danger. Yet he was one of the strongest 
 sensibilities ; he wept like a child in pure sympathy with 
 the distresses of his friends. He took upon himself our 
 infirmities, and if sensitiveness be an infirmity, he pos 
 sessed it equally with the rest of us. The insane, those 
 who were chained, imprisoned and under keepers, and who 
 in their paroxysms were ungovernable and dangerous, he 
 approached freely, became very familiar with in love, and 
 expelled the delusion that possessed them. The miracu 
 lous power with which he was endowed he employed in 
 ways most instructive and beneficial. He gave sight to the 
 blind, hearing to the deaf, strength to the weak, and health 
 to the sick. He did not consult what was expedient, but 
 pursued what was right, and broke the popular Sabbath, an 
 
20 MARGARET. 
 
 exceedingly bold act, and one that nearly cost him his life. 
 Yet he was not harsh and sweeping in his movement ; he 
 was sparing of those feelings which are deep because they 
 belong to our childhood, of convictions that are hone t 
 because they are all we possess, and of forms of public life to 
 which along antiquity imparts an air of reverence ; and he 
 would not see the Temple of the Jews mercenarily profaned. 
 The spirit of the Goth and Vandal was most remote from 
 Jesus. God he called his Heavenly Father, and sought to 
 create a near and filial relation with the Divinity. Man he 
 called his brother, and in all he would find fathers, mothers, 
 brothers, sisters. Little children, what is unparalleled 
 in all religions, he took in his arms and blessed. National, 
 local, and geographical antipathies he sought to correct, 
 and strove to unite all men on a common footing of 
 brotherhood ; and the Samaritans, who were regarded by 
 his own people, the Jews, as the offscouring of all things, he 
 demonstrated both by precept and example to be deserving 
 a common friendship and love." 
 
 "That is what Mr. Lovers said about the Freemasons," 
 interposed Margaret, "and Isabel and I were so smitten 
 we determined to join them right off, and went to the 
 Master, but he sa^d they did not admit women." 
 
 " Freemasonry," replied Mr. Evelyn, " is a partial good. 
 It recognizes every man as a brother who is a Mason, but 
 Christ recognized every one as a brother who was a man. 
 Women shared equally in his sympathies, and was embraced 
 by his love. The motto of Masonry, Faith, Hope and 
 Charity, is a fragment borrowed from the Gospels. Free 
 masonry in some of our States excludes the black ; Jew 
 and Gentile, Barbarian and Scythian, male arid female, 
 bond and free, are one in Christ. He was invidiously 
 styled the Friend of Sinners, because he maintained a 
 
\ 
 
 CHRISTIANITY. 21 
 
 kindly intercourse with those whom the world despised ; 
 he dined with Pharisees, the chief men of the nation, that 
 he might understand their position, and be better able to 
 meet their wants. Certain leaders of the people were the 
 only ones whom he seems ever to have addressed with 
 severity, and that not from any hostility, but because they 
 appeared to him wholly dissolute and abandoned ; yet his 
 language, in the original, savors more of a lament than a 
 proscription. I cannot tell you all he did. In the 
 expressive words of one of his disciples he went about 
 doing good. " 
 
 " I thank you for what you have told me," said Margaret. \ 
 " Christ certainly seems to me the most wonderful being of 
 whom I have ever heard. I have read about Plato, 
 Anaxagoras, Socrates, Epaminondas, Diogenes, Seneca, j 
 Cicero, Cato, Numa, Confucius, Budha, Manco Capac, and 
 others, who interested me a great deal, but nothing seemed 
 like this." 
 
 " I have not told you half," replied Mr. Evelyn. " I 
 have only spoken of what he did. How can I describe the 
 greatest, most excelling part of him, what he was ! It is 
 a small thing to say that he was affable, honorable, brave, 
 warm-hearted, truthful, discreet, wise, talented, disinterested, 
 self-denying, patient, exemplary, temperate, charitable, 
 industrious, frugal, hospitable, compassionate, and such 
 like. He was meek and lowly in heart, and that with more 
 incentives to arrogance and pride than ever fell to the lot 
 of one individual ; he was forbearing when a precept of 
 his religion demanded an eye for an eye, and a tooth for a 
 tooth ; his affection was universal, while the sentiment and 
 practice of his people condemned inte: course with other 
 nations; he was self-relying in a community ruled by 
 tradition and resting on prescription ; he was pacific where 
 
22 MARGARET. 
 
 war was sanctioned and encouraged ; he was free in a world 
 of bondage, spiritual in a world of forms, great in a world 
 of littleness, a God in a world of men. His intrinsic 
 nobility rose above meanness and subterfuge, and if he ever 
 withheld all he thought, it was because he would not cast 
 his pearls before swine. He was frank without bluntness, 
 courteous without guile, familiar without vulgarity, liberal 
 without licentiousness. He combined tenderness of feeling 
 with rigor of principle, harmlessness with wisdom, simplicity 
 with greatness, faith with works. He fellowshipped man 
 without countenancing sin, he mingled in all classes of 
 society without losing his singleness of character. In him 
 were harmonized the opposite extreme ; of trust and in e- 
 pendence, forethought and impulse, plain common sense 
 and the highest spirituality, theory and practice, intuition 
 and reflection, cheerfulness and piety, toil and refinement, 
 candor and enthusiasm; he was Lord of lords and King of 
 kings, and the companion of peasants and confidant of the 
 obscure. He was eloquent and persuasive, yet his voice 
 was not heard in the streets ; he had no boisterous tones, 
 or demagogical manner ; he discoursed of the highest 
 truths, yet his language was so simple, the people were 
 astonished at the gracious words that proceeded out of his 
 mouth ; God-possessed as he was, all-engrossing as was the 
 object he had in view, and preoccupied as we must suppose 
 his attention to have been, he was ever alive and fresh to 
 the beauty and suggestiveness of nature ; and the falling rain, 
 a flying sparrow, the bursting wheat; the luxuriant mustard, 
 the blooming vine, the evening twilight, the clouds of 
 heaven, wells of water in the deserts -of the East, oxen and 
 sheep, a hen brooding over her chickens, all things about 
 him left their impression in his heart and became the 
 illustrators of his doctrine. Considering the fervid Oriental 
 
CHRISTIANITY. 23 
 
 imagination, the perspicuous chasteness and emphatic 
 directness of his style, adapted to all climates and people, 
 is not a little remarkable. Made in all things like his 
 brethren, he was still one whom the offer of empire did not 
 flatter or a houseless night dishearten. His miraculous 
 power he used unostentatiously and sparingly ; and with no 
 other intent than the good of man and the glory of God. 
 You have asked if he was not Beautiful ; he was super 
 latively so. In the translation it reads the Good Shepherd ; 
 but here and elsewhere in the original Gospels a term is 
 employed by which the Greeks denoted the highest descrip 
 tion of Beauty, and if the public mind were not debased, 
 we should understand what is meant when it is said he is 
 the Beautiful Shepherd. Yet it is not mere beauty of color 
 or features, but something from within that expresses itself 
 in the face." 
 
 " I remember," said Margaret, " that look ; his eyes 
 were fair, his hair and countenance ; but there was some 
 thing behind, deeper, like music in the night, like the 
 shining of a fish in the water, like a nasturation flowering 
 under its green leaves." 
 
 " Something like that ; it glowed in his look and illumi 
 nated his manner. The hidden source of his Beauty was 
 Love ; and once, as his Love increased, as he became more 
 and more perfect through his sufferings, when his spirit 
 had completely passed through the veil of his flesh, this 
 inward Beauty shone out in a most wonderful way ; and in 
 connection with the splendor of God which answered to it 
 at the moment, constitutes a striking scene known as the 
 Transfiguration, which you will read. That same look 
 melted one wicked man to tears, and felled brutal soldiers 
 to the earth." 
 
 " Do explain to me one thing ; in one of my dreams were 
 
24 MARGARET. 
 
 three girls, whom I knew to be Faith, Hope and Charity, 
 because I had seen pictures of them. They created a 
 fourth whom I called Beauty, because it could be nothing 
 else but that. Yet you say Beauty comes from Love." 
 
 " That Charity," replied Mr. Evelyn, " is none other 
 than Love. It is an evangelical term, and there again our 
 translators committed a blunder when they rendered it 
 Charity, who is none other than an alms-giver. But Love, 
 as Christ would have it, is something entirely different, 
 greater than Faith or Hope, the greatest of all things, and 
 from it comes true Beauty. As David desired to behold 
 the Beauty of the Lord, so that of Christ was not without 
 its effect in the rapid spread of his doctrine ; he was 
 altogether lovely. The grace of your Venus, the symmetry 
 of your Apcllo, the colors of flowers, the brilliancy of gem?, 
 pass with me as nothing compared with the Moral Beauty 
 of Christ. Apollo is a perfect material form ; Christ a 
 perfect moral soul. What Apollo is in the galleries of Ait, 
 Christ is in the galleries of Spirit. The Apollo comprises 
 all the bodily excellences of men, Christ all their moral 
 excellence?. There is some worth, some virtue in every 
 human being ; in Christ these all united and made a 
 harmonious whole. The Apollo, as I told you, represented 
 the higher operations of Nature ; Christ represented the 
 higher operations of God ; or as I might say, the Apollo 
 represented the natural attributes of God, Christ his moral 
 attributes. By as much as the statue of Apollo differs 
 from the image of Brahma, by so much does Christ differ 
 from Plato." 
 
 11 1 have thought sometimes," said Margaret, " of Regulus 
 going back to the Carthaginians, wasn t that an unexam 
 pled act ? of Codrus and Eubule sacrificing themselves for 
 their country, of Epaminonda s magnanimity, Arrius s 
 
CHRISTIANITY. 25 
 
 integrity, Evephenus s truthfulness ; and O, how I have 
 wished to get away from Christians, sit down on a stump 
 in the groves of the Academy and hear Plato preach, or 
 squat with Diogenes in his tub and listen to his railings! 
 When the Master laughs about people, and I ask him who 
 is good, he says. ^The Seven Wise Men of Greece. I 
 am sure there was some virtue in those days yet I know 
 not what to say." 
 
 " If you intend a comparison," replied Mr. Evelyn, "it 
 were easy to prove, being put up to it, that Christ differs 
 from those to whom you have referred, toto co3lo, by the 
 greatest possible distance. True, they possessed many 
 virtues, but what you would glean from a whole antiquity 
 seems to me aggregated in Christ. There may be some 
 analogy between Christ and them, but no similitude. How 
 this matter stands you will see when I have said all I shall 
 say about him. Besides, as to Regulus for instance, there 
 seems to be no basis of comparison, they do not stand upon 
 any common footing. Among fallen men there exist certain 
 notions of rectitude, which go by the name of honor. It is 
 a familiar saying, there is honor among thieves. The 
 Romans and Carthaginians were fallen men, they made 
 war upon each other, they were mutual pillagers, incen 
 diaries, liars, assassins. Yet they retained this sentiment 
 of honor. Regulus indeed, true to his word, went back, 
 even when he knew it would cost him his life, a noble act ; 
 yet he was put to death by those whom he had just before 
 been trying to kill, and possibly by the friends of those 
 whom his own sword had pierced. Then, in retaliation, 
 the Carthaginians in Rome were by the public authority 
 barbarously tortured." 
 
 " I see, I see," rejoined Margaret. " I did not think of 
 comparison. Only those noble deeds detached from every 
 
 VOL. TI. 3 
 
20 MARGARET. 
 
 v 
 
 thing else have lain in my mind, as things very beautiful. 
 And while you were speaking they rose up vividly." 
 
 " Christ s was no dependent, distorted, or relative excel 
 lence," continued Mr. Evelyn; "he was not conspicuous 
 because he stood a head taller than his countrymen. He 
 was excellent from the sole of his foot upwards. He was 
 absolutely and rudimentally great, and would have appeared 
 so equally alone or with a million. He was un-fallen ; he 
 did not stand upon a platform of depravity, and exhibit 
 how much excellence was compatible therewith. He stood 
 upon a platform of pure goodness, and shows how beauti 
 ful it is. Regulns aided in carrying on the wicked pur 
 poses of the world, Christ contemplated regenerating the 
 whole world. Epaminondas was made great by the vices 
 of his countrymen, Christ from his own inherit life. Plato 
 maintained that fire is a pyramid tied to the earth by num 
 bers ; Christ is guilty of.no philosophical absurdity, and 
 what is not a little noticeable is this, that while he pursued 
 the track of high, transcendent truth, he does not exhibit 
 the slightest tinge of those metaphysical speculations that 
 prevailed in his time. s Plato travelled into Egypt in pur 
 suit of knowledge, Christ into the region of himself. Plato 
 borrows from the Brahmins. What absence of that 
 anagogical, all-prevalent, all-winsome Brahminism in 
 Christ ! Socrates, the wise, beneficent and pious, lifted a 
 bloody arm against his fellow men. Thales thanked God 
 he was born a man, not a woman; a Greek, not a bar 
 barian. Solon ordered robbery to be punished with death. 
 Anaxagoras, when he was old and poor, wrapped himself in 
 his cloak, and resolved to die of hunger. These were all 
 stars in the night time, worthy of admiration, and pleasant 
 to go to sleep under. Christ seems to me a Morning 
 Sun." 
 
CHRISTIANITY. 27 
 
 " Keep to Christ, I can afford to forget all others, a while 
 at least." 
 
 " It is after all by approximations we know Christ, not 
 by any comprehension. We must rest content to paddle 
 about in the inlets of this great ocean. Consider his intel 
 lectual character he knew what was in man, his biogra 
 pher declares. He had not books or teachers ; he worked at 
 his father s bench ; he had never, as I believe, travelled 
 farther than from Nazareth to Jerusalem, and his doctrine 
 savors as little of Jewish hagiography as it does of the 
 lore of the Rabbins ; and well was it asked, How knoweth 
 this man letters, having never learned ? He studied his 
 own mysterious nature, his own manifold necessities, his 
 own disposition ; and by thus first knowing himself, he 
 knew all men. Through himself he read the race. That 
 love, which is the secret sap of the soul, by which our 
 being enlarges itself, the faculties grow apace like the arms 
 of an oak, the knots of thought are loosened, and a clear 
 shining intellectual vision is attained, he possessed in un 
 bounded measure. He did God s will, and therefore knew 
 of the doctrine. He grew in wisdom, and love added to 
 his insight and fortified his reason. He was pure in heart, 
 and thus saw God. Christ is perfectly adapted to man, as 
 a well-adjusted piece of carpentry to its several parts, as 
 light to the eye, as air to the lungs, as musical notes to a 
 musical ear. He, the prototypal Diapason of the race, 
 studying himself, and man in himself, so strikes a chord 
 that vibrates to every heart. 
 
 " Christ was a genius, one without compeer or parallel, a 
 spiritual genius ; not of the Homeric, Phydian, or Praxite- 
 lean order, but of his own most singular, most exalted kind. 
 A sculptor, from the several beauties found in a collection 
 of human bodies, gives you a beautiful material statute ; 
 
28 MARGARET. 
 
 Christ gives you a beautiful spirit. A sculptor from his 
 own Ideal produces a beautiful Form; Christ from his 
 Ideal produces beautiful men. A sculptor sometimes suc 
 ceeds in throwing passion, action, a soul into marble ; 
 Christ threw a soul into man. Art explains nature to man ; 
 Christ explained God to man, and man to himself. His 
 power was strictly creative, as it was rare and benign. A 
 spiritual landscape painted he, that no Claude could equal. 
 Indeed, such an impression had his disciples of his pro 
 ductive energy, that by him they say the worlds were 
 made. A new Heaven and a new Earth were things on 
 which lie wrought. Christ was, if we are willing to apply 
 to him modern terms, both Art and an Artist. He was in 
 himself the fairest, self-wrought, divine creation. Then 
 patiently, studiously, lovingly, he went on to form new crea 
 tions. In Love lies all Artistic Energy ; from the highest 
 love proceeds the highest work. Praxiteles, in the com 
 position of his Venus, is said to have been inspired by the 
 presence of a beautiful female. Christ needed no other 
 inspiration than what his own beautiful heart could furnish. 
 But ] must delay on this till I have said some other things. 
 " Having all too meagrely spoken of him in himself, I 
 will speak of him in his relation to God. The Soul of the 
 Universe entered into his soul, and was cherished there. 
 The Spirit of God, as a dove, descended and rested upon 
 him. In him dwelt the fulness of the Godhead bodily. 
 He is called the only begotten Son of God. With a nature 
 harmonious in all things with God, God himself sympa 
 thized, and he dwelt in God, and God in him. The 
 Word became flesh. He was the Bread of God, he was a 
 Vine of the Father s planting; he was Irnmanuel, God 
 with us. But of what chiefly interests us, his relation to 
 man, I will tell you. In this respect we learn much of 
 
CHRISTIANITY. 29 
 
 Christ from his immediate successors, called Apostles, in 
 whom is seen the Ideal of Christ as it were projected, and 
 who manifest in effect what he held in purpose. As he 
 was, so are we in this world, they declare. This expresses 
 the gist of the matter. Whatever he himself was he 
 designed man to become. God sent him into the world, 
 through Him to restore His own fallen image. He was 
 made perfect, that through his perfection we might become 
 perfect. He would restore us by the infusion of himself, 
 by reuniting man with his spirit, his holiness, his love. 
 His wish and prayer were that we together with him might 
 become one with God. He announced himself the Way, 
 the Truth, the Life. He did not teach, he was the Resur 
 rection and the Life, and those who were dead in trespasses 
 and sins heard his voice, came forth from their graves and 
 lived. Take up your Cross and follow me, were his 
 words ; eat me, live on me. As he laid down his life for 
 us, so are we directed to lay down our lives for the brethren. 
 I travail, says one, till Christ be formed in you. Christ 
 in us is the Mystery of Revelation. We die daily ; we 
 live, yet not we, but Christ lives in us. As he forgave, so 
 are we to forgive. The same mind that was in him is to be 
 in us. As he suffered without the gate, so are we to go 
 forth, bearing his reproach. We are crucified together 
 with him. As he died to sin, so do we. As he was a 
 sacrifice, so are we to offer our bodies living sacrifices. He 
 suffered, leaving us an example. If we imitate his Passion, 
 we shall reign with him. The glory which God gave him, 
 he says, he gives his disciples. Greater works than he did 
 he declares they shall do. So perfect was this contem 
 plated identity that he says, He who receives you receives 
 me ; and it was even declared, that he who sinned against a 
 brother sinned against Christ. This inner, received Christ, 
 3* 
 
30 
 
 MARGARET. 
 
 Paul declared, worked in him mightily. Through him, 
 thus received, we escape the pollutions of the world. His 
 blood, his doctrine, his spirit, his death, his whole self, washes 
 away our sins. As he is holy, so we become holy. We are 
 partakers of the divine nature. He is to us a Moral 
 Revelation of God ; as there is a Natural Revelation in 
 the material creation. He embodies, and sets forth the 
 Moral attributes of God. 
 
 " So he came into the world, as it were, suffused with the 
 effulgence of God, raying out with love, benignity, paternal 
 affection. He addressed himself to human sympathies, I 
 mean to that power of which we were speaking, of recipro 
 cating the feelings and passions of another ; to that sus 
 ceptibility of truth and goodness which exists in all minds. 
 This was the medium whereby he would communicate 
 himself to man. He relied upon the Spirit of God to 
 second and bless his labors. He would uncurb the well- 
 spring of love that is found in every soul, and let its waters 
 flow out over the earth. 
 
 " He begins with saying, * Repent, or in the origina 1 
 Change your minds, Reflect upon yourselves. In the only 
 discourse of any length which remains to us, he pronounces 
 the Beatitudes, which I hope you will soon read. His 
 object is the salvation of man ; he is called the Savior, 
 because he shall save his people from their sins. In the 
 revival, development, and extension of love, he would bring 
 men to holiness ; in becoming holy, sin is expelled and 
 forgiven ; in the expulsion of sin, Hell both as an experi 
 ence and a destiny ceases, and Heaven is secured. On the 
 deep, eternal foundations of Nature he would erect the 
 superstructure of Grace. He came mature in preparation, 
 flushing with hope, dexterous for attempt. He looked with 
 loving eyes to behold loving eyes in return, he speaking 
 
CHRISTIANITY. 31 
 
 kindness to be greeted witli kindness, his warm heart would 
 be met by warm hearts, his lofty purposes would kindle 
 lofty purposes, his holy life shall stimulate a holy life, his 
 gentle rebuke react in penitence, and his pity invigorate 
 despair. As by a conjuror s touch he would awaken the 
 dead soul of the world. His Divine Spirit propagating 
 itself, the image of God would reappear in the face of man. 
 He, the Heavenly Sculptor, works on rocky souls, and with 
 his chisel fashions a form of immortal beauty. Thousands 
 upon thousands heard his voice and lived. The stately 
 Pharisee, the unknown rustic, and the despised foreigner 
 became his converts. To his resurrection from sin and 
 sense, fashion and fortune, multitudes strove to attain; 
 many vied in his crucifixion ; by the new and living way 
 through the veil, that is, the flesh, the carnal and self-in 
 dulgent denied themselves to enter. A living sympathetic 
 response to Christ arose in John and Peter, Martha and 
 Mary, and hosts. 
 
 " A splendid Ideal had he, which he called the Kingdom 
 of Heaven ; the reproduction of himself among men he 
 spoke of as his coming again ; the reappearance of Virtue 
 and Peace, Truth and Righteousness, he described as the 
 clouds of Heaven and Angels of God. Such was his Ideal 
 of Truth, that while he says he himself judged no one, he 
 expected that would judge the world, condemn sin, and 
 extirpate it forever ; and those who possessed this truth he 
 speaks of as standing upon thrones. The ordinary magis 
 tracy of man would be supplanted, and all iniquity flee 
 away before the brightness of his Advent. Such is the 
 scheme of Redemption, so called ; a scheme or plan, 
 originating with God, executed by Christ, fostered by the 
 Holy Spirit, energetic through human sympathies and 
 affections ; a method, as we are graphically told, of re 
 deeming unto Christ a peculiar people, zealous of good 
 
32 MARGARET. 
 
 works, of instituting a l Church without spot or blemish. 
 " Let rne now explain some of your troublesome ana- 
 gogics. The Atonement is the union of man with God 
 through Christ by the reproduction of Christ in us ; the 
 Trinity is this trifold union, God, Christ and Man : Faith, 
 a Saving or Evangelical Faith, or Believing in Christ, is 
 taking Christ to yourself in this living and warm way, 
 receiving his spirit into your spirit, imbosoming his feel 
 ings in your feelings, impressing his character on your 
 character, whereby his whole self becomes grafted upon 
 i and fused into yourself. Sanctification or Holiness is the 
 ! subsidence and departure of sin in proportion as you thus 
 i receive Christ. Justification is God s approval of you ; 
 Adoption is becoming a member of the great Divine family. 
 THIS is CHRISTIANITY ! 
 
 "The regeneration of the world went on well for awhile; 
 the spirit and power of Christ reached many nations > 
 Christism survived a few years after his death, when, alas ! 
 the dog returned to his vomit, and the swine that was washed 
 to her wallowing in the mire. The Church began its 
 fall in the second century ; Christians became degraded 
 into the ways of the world, the forms of Judaism were 
 revived, a false philosophy was introduced, and sacerdotal 
 and imperial ambition finished the work. "With Constan- 
 tine in the fourth century, the union of the Cross and the 
 Sword was complete, and in the name of Christ, Christian 
 nations have gullied the earth with the blood they have 
 spilt, and curdled the skies in horror of their mutual 
 massacres." 
 
 "I must ask you one thing," said Margaret. "How 
 came the first man to fall ? " 
 
 " That question belongs to a subject of the most subtle 
 nature, the prime origin of Evil, which I must take some 
 other time to discuss." 
 
CHRISTIANITY. 33 
 
 "I know you are tired, but let me ask you how these 
 wicked things could be done in the name of Christ?" 
 
 " That name has been perpetuated, although so great was 
 its abuse that in the seventh century a new sect arose who 
 are now called Mohammedans. The solitary divine virtue 
 immanent in Christ has ever found a response in the heart 
 of humanity ; and such was the original majestic effect of 
 his name, that it has served as a convenient basis for delu 
 sion, error and sin, craft, .avarice and pride, to raise their 
 fabrics upon. Besides, the Gospels, handed down from age 
 to age, have been held in nominal reverence." 
 
 " You mentioned the name of Mary." 
 
 " Yes, there were two Marys, one of whom was so 
 affected by Christ, that she washed his feet with her tears 
 and wiped them with the hairs of her head. 
 
 "You have said the last word ; I have no more questions. 
 Sweet sister Mary ! my name, too* is Mary. O, Tony, 
 Tony ! Your profession is done in a way you little wotted 
 of. Toupee, tyetop, pomatum, powder my hair goes for 
 a towel to wipe Christ s feet with. My hankerchief can 
 not hold my tears, they go to do Mary s service too ! I 
 have not understood, Sir, all you have said, but it is enough, 
 enough ; I am filled to distention, I can bear no more. 
 Apollo, Diana, Orpheus, are you scared ? Have you hid 
 under the bushes? Dear little gods and goddesses all, 
 don t be frightened, Christ won t hurt us. They have 
 been beautiful and true to me, he will love them for that, 
 won t he, Mr. Evelyn ? Christ shall preside over us, I will 
 worship him. It is late ; I thank yon, I bless you, Mr. 
 Evelyn, I must go, I would be alone. But the names must 
 be changed. Bacchus Hill shall be Christ s Hill, Orpheus s 
 Pond, his Pond. He shall be supreme ; Head, Pond, and 
 all, shall henceforth be called Moxs CHRISTI. 
 
34 MARGARET. 
 
 CHAPTER IV. 
 
 SUNDRY MATTERS. 
 
 ANOTHER day found Mr. Evelyn at the Pond, and with 
 Margaret on the eminence now. called Mons Christi. 
 
 " The name which this bill has commonly Lome," said 
 Mr. Evelyn, " together with the broad forest about, bring 
 strongly, I may say, mournfully to recollection, the original 
 population, the Indians, I mean." 
 
 " What do you know about them ? " asked Margaret. 
 
 " If we may rely on accounts written when they and the 
 whites first met as friends, befroe a mutual hostility exas 
 perated the judgment of the historian, and disordered the 
 conduct of the natives, we shall form a pleasing picture of 
 their character and condition. These people, the New 
 England Indians, say the first discoverers, are exceeding 
 courteous, gentle of disposition, and well-conditioned ; for 
 shape of body and lovely favor they excel all the people of 
 America ; of stature much higher than we. They are 
 quick-eyed and steadfast in their looks, fearless of others 
 harms, as intending none themselves ; some of the meaner 
 sort given to filching. Their women are fat and well- 
 favored, and the men are very dutiful towards them. The 
 wholesomeness and temperature of the climate doth argue 
 them to be of a perfect constitution of body, active, strong, 
 healthful and very witty, as sundry toys of theirs, very 
 cunningly wrought, may easily witness. A friendly 
 intercourse was had with them in those days, e and, say the 
 whites, l in great love we parted. They are universally 
 
THE INDIANS. 35 
 
 represented as kind-hearted, hospitable, grateful, truthful, 
 simple, chaste. Property was never more secure than 
 with them, bolts and bars they had none on their doors, 
 and one vice that gangrenes Christian nations was unknown 
 amongst them, they never offered indignity to woman ; they 
 were also, in respect of drinks, a very temperate people. 
 They possessed more virtues and fewer vices than Christians. 
 But terrible wrongs were inflicted on them ; their young 
 men were pirated into slavery, their population was thinned 
 by the introduction of new, immedicable diseases, intem 
 perance shed its baneful influence, inflaming their passions 
 and corrupting their morals, the mercenariness of border 
 intercourse alternately cajoled and defrauded them, their 
 several sovereignties were forced into destructive collision, 
 and their entire strength became the game of a foreign and 
 unknown intrigue ; moreover the disposition of the settlers 
 began to develop itself, the encroachment of a foreign and 
 malign jurisdiction alarmed them, and they awoke to a 
 sense of the value of what they had in their simplicity 
 surrendered ; hence conflict, in which they were driven to 
 every resort, for the defence of their rights, the recovery of 
 empire, and the preservation of existence itself ; and now 
 they assume a new attitude, as all men do in similar 
 circumstances. They exhibit a melancholy instance of the 
 reflex, reciprocal action of evil, agreeably to a law that we 
 before talked about. And yet, if we would give to their 
 revenge the name of reprisals, call their subtlety and 
 cunning military manoeuvres, their hatred patriotic pride, 
 if we would render their ferocity gallant behavior, record 
 their cruelties as vigorous measures for disarming "an 
 enemy, and if, instead of distinguishing them as savages, we 
 should write them simply Americans, they would not 
 appear very unlike other people of the globe." 
 
y 
 
 36 MARGARET. 
 
 " It is not so bad a thing for me to be called an Indian 
 after all," said Margaret. " Yesterday I felt that I was a 
 Christian, I don t know but I had better remain an Indian." 
 
 " I told you there was a difference between Ecclesiastical 
 Christians and Evangelical Christians." 
 
 " I would call myself a Christoid, a Christman, or any 
 thing. I wanted to tell you how glad I was I persuaded 
 Nimrod, my brother, not to enlist, when they were about 
 awhile since after soldiers to go against the Indians on the 
 Ohio." 
 
 " Poor Indians ! "VYe have driven them from their 
 reserves in the West, and they may at last be compelled to 
 take refuge in the forests of the Mississippi, or even to cross 
 its waters for defence." 
 
 " I know one Indian," said Margaret, " an old man, who 
 comes here every year, and has come ever since I can 
 remember. He lives in the blue yonder, on the sides of 
 Umkidden. He looks very old, as if he had seen a hun 
 dred years. Yet he is tall and straight, has fine muscular 
 proportions, and passes the house with a taught, Junonian 
 step. He comes and sits up here. He makes his annual 
 visit in Autumn, when the frosts have fallen and the leaves 
 change and drop. He is silent almost as Jupiter himself, 
 and I cannot get much out of him. His expression is 
 majestically sad, a sort of Promethean look. He some 
 times brings a little girl with him, whom I have more than 
 once induced to play with me. She says he is her grand 
 father. Here he sits in a sort of brown study, and muses 
 over the water and wood. His hair is tied in a knot be 
 hind, and surmounted with a coronet of white heron s 
 feathers ; he wears a robe of tambored deer-skin. I have 
 seen him stop and listen to Chilion s music, and once the 
 girl gave me a pair of beaded moccasons, in return, I sup 
 pose, for my bread nnd rider." 
 
THE INDIANS. 37 
 
 " He is probably a relic of the departed race, and comes 
 to look upon the home of his ancestors. He may have 
 lived hereabouts. A distinguished tribe of Indians former 
 ly occupied the borders of the River. They always 
 selected the most fertile and picturesque spots for their 
 residences. And truly this was a goodly heritage. The 
 Connecticut, the Merrimac, the Kennebec, the Penobscot 
 were their noble rivers. The early voyagers whom I have 
 quoted to you seem, in these aboriginal regions, to have 
 found the lost Eden. This main, say they, is the goodliest 
 continent that we ever saw. The land is replenished with 
 fair fields, and in them fragrant flowers, also meadows, 
 and hedged in with stately groves, being furnished with 
 brooks of sweet water, and large rivers. They raised 
 corn in their meadows, beans and melons in their gar 
 dens. They had plums, cherries and grapes. The Indian 
 children gathered strawberries in the Spring and wortler 
 berries in the Fall. Their maidens found violets, lilies-of- 
 the-valley, and numerous flowers in the fields and forests 
 just as you do. God they called by various names, 
 Squanto, Kishton, Manito, Areouski." 
 
 " What a pity they should not be here still ; and I I 
 would willingly be not," observed Margaret, dropping her 
 head upon her hand. 
 
 " They were not always at peace among themselves. 
 The Maquas, an imperious race, did much harm to the 
 others, and threatened universal supremacy. But they are 
 gone. For reasons which we cannot well understand, the 
 red gives place to the white man. With their wigwams 
 and canoes, their gods and their pawwas, their government 
 and titles, their language and manners, they have van 
 ished forever. No trace of them remains, except in the 
 names of a few localities. The way is cleared for a new 
 
 VOL. ii. 4 
 
38 MARGARET. 
 
 population, a new religion, new society, new life. We wait 
 to see what will be done. New England is swept and 
 garnished ; it is an unencumbered region." 
 
 " Do I live in New England." 
 
 " Yes, you are a New Englander." 
 
 " Mehercule ! I thought I lived any where between the 
 sky and this most anagogical rotundity, and have been en 
 tertaining my later years with soap-bubbling a few divinities 
 I will be serious, Mr. Evelyn, I do know the realities of 
 things. But how the gods chase one another over the 
 world, Manitou, Jupiter, Jehovah ! Are not New Eng- 
 landers like Old Englanders, and Old Englanders like the 
 Hindoos?" 
 
 " Men are all formed of one blood ; yet there are speci 
 fic differences. But God is one, and if New Englanders 
 were pure in heart, as Christ says, they would see Him, and 
 that more truly perhaps than any other people. Yet many 
 of them ascribe acts to their God which would disgrace a 
 heathen deity. This results from the debased state of the 
 public mind ; or rather I should say, from the debased doc 
 trines of a fallen church which have been transmitted to us. 
 Still in many respects we have an advantage over all 
 other nations, which it is worth your while to think of." 
 
 " Thoughts are coming upon me plenty as blackberries, 
 and the more the better." 
 
 " A good part of the Old World on its passage to the 
 New was lost overboard. Our ancestors were very con 
 siderably cleansed by the dashing waters of the Atlantic. 
 We have no monarchical supremacy, no hereditary prero 
 gatives, no patent nobility, no Kings, and but few Bishops, 
 by especial Divine interposition. The gift of God is 
 with the virtuous and truthful. All men are equal, is 
 our favorite motto ; and it is one of far-piercing, greatly 
 
NEW ENGLAND. 39 
 
 humanizing, radically reforming force, though now but little 
 understood. Many things that affect character and condition, 
 in the Old World, adulterate truth, perpetuate error, 
 degrade society and life, sully the soul, and retard improve 
 ment, we have not. I intend to take a trip thither soon, 
 and shall see what they are of and for." 
 
 " Are you going away ? " 
 
 " My health and taste both require a sea voyage, which 
 I shall make as soon as Bonaparte and Mr, Pitt settle their 
 differences a little. There are no fairies in our meadows, 
 and no elves to spirit away our children. Our wells are 
 drugged by no saint, arid of St. Winifred we have never 
 heard. Our rivers harbor no nereids, they run on the Sab 
 bath, and are all sacred alike, Mill Brook as the Ganges ; 
 and there is no reason why the Pond of Mons Christi 
 should not become as celebrated as the Lake of Zurich. In 
 the clefts of our rocks abide the souls of no heroes, no 
 spirits of the departed inhabit our hills, nor are our moun 
 tains the seats of any gods ; Olympus, Sinai, Othus, Pico- 
 Adam, Umkidden, Washington, Monadnock, Holyoke, 
 Ktaadin, it is all one. The Valley of the Housatonic is 
 beautiful as the Vale of Tempe, or of Cashmere, and as 
 oracular. We have no resorts for pilgrims, no shrines for 
 the devout, no summits looking into Paradise. We have no 
 traditions, legends, fables, and scarcely a history. Our 
 galleries are no cenotaphic burial grounds of ages past ; we 
 have no Haddon Hall or Raby Castle Kitchen ; no chapels 
 or abbeys, no broken arches or castled crags. You find 
 these woods as inspiring as those of Etruria or Mamre. 
 Robin-Good-Fellow is unknown, and the Devil haunts our 
 theology, not our houses, and I see in the last edition of the 
 Primer his tail is entirely abridged. No hideous ghosts 
 appear at cock-crowing. Witches have quite vanished, 
 
40 MARGARET. 
 
 and omens from sneezing and itching must soon follow. At 
 least in all these things there is a sensible change in the 
 public mind. If the girls put wedding-cake under their 
 pillows to dream upon, it is rather sport than magic. 
 Astrology, Alchemy, Physiognomy and Necromancy are 
 fast dying out, and Animal Magnetism has not ventured to 
 cross the sea. January and May are not, as in the Old 
 World, unlucky months, and Friday is rapidly losing its 
 evil eye. At marriages the bride is not obliged to throw 
 her shoe at the company ; at births, we have no Ragged 
 Shirt or Groaning Cheese ; if a child die unbaptized, it is 
 not thought to wander in woods and solitudes ; at deaths 
 our common people do not cover up the looking-glasses. 
 Ecclesiastical Holidays have a precarious hold on New 
 Englanders ; curses are not denounced upon sinners, Ash 
 Wednesday ; we have no Whitsuntide given to bearbaiting, 
 drunkenness and profligacy ; Trinity Sunday our bachelors 
 do not kiss our maidens three times in honor of that 
 mystery ; bread baked on Christmas eve turns mouldy as 
 soon as any other ; we are not obliged to use tansy to purge 
 our stomachs of fish eaten in Lent. In our churchyards 
 bodies are buried on the North as well as the South side. 
 There is no virtue in the points of compass that our clergy 
 repeat the Creed looking towards the East, and none in 
 wood that we bow to the Altar. 
 
 " All these things our fathers left behind in England, or 
 they we re brushed away by contact with the thick, spiny 
 forests of America. Our atmosphere is transparent, un 
 occupied, empty from the bottom of our wells to the zenith, 
 and throughout the entire horizontal plane. It has no 
 superstitious inhabitancy, no darkening prevalence, no 
 vague magistracy, no Manichean bisection. As you say, 
 Manitou is gone, and with due courtesy to your Pantheon, 
 
NEW ENGLAND. 41 
 
 the One God supervenes ; there is no intermediation but 
 Christ ; and for man, the bars are let down. Our globe 
 stands on no elephant, but swings clear in open, boundless 
 space ; it is trammelled by no Northern Snake, and circum 
 vented by no Oriental Sea of Milk. We have no Hindoo 
 caste, and Negro Slavery is virtually extinct in New 
 England. Education is universally encouraged, and Free 
 dom of Opinion tolerated." 
 
 " So you think New Englanders are the best people on 
 the Earth?" 
 
 " I think they might become such ; or rather I think they 
 might lead the august procession of the race to Human 
 Perfectibility ; that here might be revealed the Coming of 
 the Day of the Lord wherein the old Heavens of sin and 
 error should be dissolved, and a New Heaven and New 
 Earth be established wherein dwelleth righteousness. I 
 see nothing to prevent our people reassuming the old 
 Hyperionic type, rising head and shoulders to the clouds, 
 crowding out Jupiter and Mars, being filled, as the Apostle 
 says, with all the fulness of God, reaching the stature of 
 perfect men in Christ Jesus, and reimpressing upon the 
 world the lost image of its Maker. 
 
 " NEW ENGLAND ! my birthplace, my chosen pilgrimage, 
 I love it. I love its earth and its sky, and the souls of its 
 people. They, the Unconquerable, could alone subdue its 
 ruggedness, and they are alone worthy to enjoy its 
 amenities. I love the old folks and the children ; I love 
 the enterprise of its youth and honorable toil of its man 
 hood. I love its snows and its grass, its hickory fires and 
 its corn-bread. The seeds of infinite good, of eternal truth, 
 are already sown in many minds ; these might germinate 
 in another generation, and in the third bear fruit. High 
 
 Calculation, which is only the symbol of a higher Moral 
 
 4* 
 
42 MARGARET. 
 
 Sense, is even now at work ; and they are ripping up the 
 earth for a Canal from Worcester to Providence; and what 
 shall next be done, who knows ? Only, if love lay at the 
 heart of all things, thought and action, what might not be ! 
 But how stint we ourselves ! Politics, society, life, the 
 Church, love, aim, what are they all ? " 
 
 " Why don t you lead off yourself in this matter ! You 
 shall be a Hero, the days of Chivalry shall be renewed." 
 
 " I ! I have neither health nor spirit. I only perceive, I 
 only deplore." 
 
 " Really, we must go to the Widow s without delay, and 
 get some of the Nommernisstortumbug ; that will cure you. 
 Speaking of the Widow, I think of Rose, poor Rose. I 
 asked her to come with me and see you to-day; she 
 hesitated, and declined. I told her you would speak better 
 to her than any body else. She shook her head mournfully, 
 and said, l Only you, Margaret, only you ! What can we 
 do for her ? " 
 
 " I do not know, I am sure, I have turned over the 
 account you gave me of her. I am persuaded she has some 
 chord that could be reached, some secret self to be 
 disclosed." 
 
 " Can you send me for no hammer that will break her to 
 pieces ? " 
 
 " Christ might reach her, if nothing else." 
 
 " O no. She has a perfect horror of that name. She 
 hates it worse than I did ; I only langhed at it, she seems 
 to loathe it inwardly. Said I, Rose, Christ loves you, he 
 suffered for you, can t you have faith in him ? In the 
 name of mercy ! she cried if you won t kill me, Margaret, 
 don t speak of that, and so shut my mouth, and I could say 
 no more." 
 
BE KIND TO ROSE. 43 
 
 "I think T see how it is ; I believe I understand the 
 difficulty, so far at least as that demonstration is con 
 cerned." 
 
 " I can very well understand how a person might not 
 like the name of Christ, how it might otfend one ; but that 
 it should give a shuddering pain quite poses me." 
 
 " Be good and kind to Rose, and she may yet listen to 
 to you." 
 
 " I have borne her deep in my heart, I have felt most 
 strange motions towards her, I am ready to melt and flow 
 into her, and much sorrowful feeling she gives me, and I 
 am willing to have for her." 
 
 " Persevere, and I am confident she will yield. I might 
 say many things of what I think about her, but perhaps it 
 were of no use. I am willing to leave her with you, though 
 if it were in my power I should be glad to see her. When 
 shall I find you at leisure again ? " 
 
 " To-morrow I must spin, next day help Chilion on his 
 baskets. There is Sunday when we do not work, come 
 then." 
 
 "I go to Church." 
 
 " Sakes alive ! so you do. I quite forgot you belonged 
 to the fallen race ! " 
 
 " I told you all had some excellences ; and if you would 
 come and hear Parson "Welles you might think so too. He 
 is serious-minded, his prayers are earnest, his sermons have 
 good sense, and the place itself is grateful to one s feelings. 
 Perhaps in no one more than in him would you see 
 the struggle that goes on between Nature and the Unnatural. 
 Nor is it easy to overcome the effect of education so but 
 that old erroneous influences seem to minister to one s 
 spiritual peace, and I find going to Meeting very pleasant." 
 
44 MARGARET. 
 
 " It is not indeed," replied Margaret laughing, " and I 
 find much pleasure in staying at home." 
 
 " Monday, I may see you ? " 
 
 " After washing. Besides, you have left me enough for 
 a three days rumination, at least.* 
 
45 
 
 CHAPTER V. 
 
 MR. EVELYN UNEXPECTEDLY DETAINED. MARGARET GOES 
 AFTER HIM, IS ABSENT FROM HOME SOME WEEKS. HE 
 RETURNS WITH HER TO THE POND, IN THE FALL. WHEN 
 ALSO ROSE MAKES HERSELF COMPANIONABLE. 
 
 MONDAY came, but not Mr. Evelyn, nor did the whole 
 week bring him. His absence can be accounted for. He 
 exhibited symptoms of a disease that was the terror and 
 scourge of the age, the Small Pox. He was from a town 
 on the sea-board where the infection raged. The people of 
 Livingston became alarmed, town meetings were held, a 
 Pock House was established, Mr. Evelyn conveyed thither, 
 and a general beating up for patients was had throughout 
 the region. All who had been exposed were ordered to the 
 Hospital, and candidates for the disease universally were 
 taken thither. Margaret and Obed were sent for; Rose 
 escaped to the woods. 
 
 The house selected for the terrible ordeal \vas that known 
 as Col. Welch s, the Tory absentee, now used as a Poor 
 House, a large building, occupying a commanding site on 
 the west side of the village, north of Deacon Hadlock s 
 Pasture, and detached from the highway by a deep front 
 yard, that had been once ornamented with gravel walks 
 and flower-beds, but of late years was abandoned to swine. 
 In the rear was a grove and a hill covered with the ruins 
 of a summer-house. Above the ridge of the Hospital on a 
 long pole waved a blood-red flag, an admonition to all of 
 the fearful malady that was at work therein. Guards 
 patroled about the premises to prevent unlicensed ingress 
 or departure. 
 
46 MARGARET. 
 
 Margaret was shut in a room with several other young 
 ladies then and there awaiting the process of inoculation by 
 Dr. Spoor. Among the number she found Isabel Weeks, 
 who introduced her to Susan Morgridge. It being sup 
 posed that Margaret and Susan might have received the 
 disease in the natural way, they two were for a few days 
 consigned to a room by themselves. Margaret s first in 
 quiries related to Mr. Evelyn, who was reported quite sick. 
 Susan supplied her with other particulars respecting her 
 cousin, for whom she expressed the highest esteem, and it 
 might have been a little flattering to Margaret to know how 
 kindly the young man had spoken of her in the Judge s 
 family. 
 
 Susan, sobered by the recent death of her mother, serious 
 by nature, and of a retiring disposition, was yet most 
 excellent company for Margaret. She possessed amiability 
 and good sense, sweetness and strength, cultivated manners 
 and great delicacy of sentiment, nor was she one to con 
 demn all that she could not approve. For the first time in 
 her life Margaret had a bedfellow, if we except the dog. 
 
 No symptoms of the natural disease appearing, and the 
 virus with which they were charged begining to develop 
 itself, the enviable privilege of solitude these two persons 
 enjoyed was disturbed, and they were reduced to the 
 common lot, that of occupying a chamber where were four 
 beds, patients and nurses to match, and a stagnant atmos 
 phere ; ventilation being prohibited for fear of taking cold. 
 
 It boots not to describe that Middle Passage of the Pock 
 House, or follow from day to day the progress of a dreadful 
 disorder ; the primary dulness and lassitude, succeeded 
 by fever and ague, the hot, blinding eruption, sharp, 
 darting pains, the swollen face, the sore throat, tiresome 
 sleep, haunted dreams, convulsions, delirium, blindness ; a 
 
47 
 
 noisome air, slow haggard midnights, inflamed, nettlesome 
 noontides ; jalap and the lancet ; saffron and marigold 
 infusions, rum and brandy applied to " throw the eruption 
 from the heart ; " the body half roasted with blisters to 
 keep the disease from " striking in." Thanks to Lady 
 Mary Wortley Montague and the Turks for our lives in 
 deed, and thanks to Dr. Jenner and the cows for our 
 comfort ! The aspect of the town was suddenly trans 
 formed, the streets were deserted, citizens wore lengthened 
 and distressful countenances, spy-like and suspicious was 
 all intercourse, It is 3, wonder so many of the number re 
 turned again to their homes ; in fact only two died, one a 
 boy from the North Part of the town ; the other a friend of 
 Margaret s, and sister of Isabel s, Helen Weeks. Tin- 
 shriven, unblest, she died ; at midnight, without prayer or 
 funeral or passing bell, was she buried ; by the hands of 
 the sexton, Deacon RamsdilJ, and her own father and 
 mother, were the shunned remains laid in the grave, which 
 closed over one as pure in heart and guileless in life as this 
 world often produces. 
 
 She, whose especial provinpe was the health of the people, 
 the Widow Wright, could not fail to bestir herself on an 
 occasion like the present, In Rose s sequestration she 
 aided, Obed s being taken to the Hospital she opposed, and 
 however hostile to the practice of the Faculty, she still felt 
 it incumbent upon her to do something. Accoro!ingly, 
 laden with sundry medicaments, she presented herself one 
 morning at the gate of the infected grounds. Here pre 
 sided Captain Eliashib Tuck, with a staff instead of a fire 
 lock a long black pole barbed with iron, and formerly used 
 by tythingmen for the admonition of unruly children on the 
 Sabbath which he carried with the precision of a soldier 
 on guard, but raised in a manner somewhat threatening 
 
48 MARGARET. 
 
 when he observed the sedulous lady trying to open the gate. 
 
 " Marcy on us, Cappen ! " exclaimed the Widow, " ye 
 wouldn t spile a woman s gear and forsan break her head, 
 for deuin a dight of good, would ye, bein it was Sabber 
 day?" 
 
 " There are the General Orders," replied the Captain 
 with sturdy brevity. 
 
 On a post the Leech read as follows : 
 
 "1. No person is allowed to enter or leave the grounds 
 without permission. 2. If a person cause the spread of the 
 disease, he or she shall be fined fifty pounds. 3. If any 
 person be inoculated in any other place than the Hospital, 
 he shall pay forty pounds. 4. No Paper Money to be 
 carried into the building under penalty of ten pounds." 
 
 "Ha, ha, ha!" snickered out the woman. "More 
 afeerd of paper money than they are of the Doctor s knife. 
 I cal late Cappen, if they d a kept paper money out of the 
 War, there wouldn t have been quite so many broke doun." 
 
 " I was in the War," rejoined the Captain, " and I was 
 afraid neither of paper money nor British swords. I 
 consider myself honored by my losses. I am no grum 
 bler. Where is your countersign, Ma am? You can pass 
 with a ticket, not without." 
 
 " Ra aly, you look as if you Cappen Granded it over all 
 creation, and the Hospital besides. The doctor has got um 
 all in his clutches, and he das nt let one come out and have 
 fair play. Won t ye let a woman see her boy ? " 
 
 " The countersign, Ma am." 
 
 " They ll kill him with jollup and rhubarb. They ll 
 make a shadder of him, and wont leave enough to bury 
 him by." 
 
 " I know," rejoined the Captain, " neither men nor 
 women, mothers nor children, judges nor ministers. Have 
 
MR. EVELYN S DETENTION. 49 
 
 you never heard, when I stood sentry before General Wash 
 ington s tent, then only a raw recruit, and the Old Hero 
 himself rode up in his carriage, I challenged him. Who 
 goes there ? said I, * General Washington, said he, looking 
 from the window. I don t know General Washington/ 
 said I. * What is the countersign ? and he had to give it 
 before he could pass one inch." 
 
 " You had better a stuck teu the camp, old feller, and 
 gone out agin the Injins, and not be here a meddlin with 
 the sientifikals and a killin poor folk s children." 
 
 The Captain, who stood too much on his dignity to take 
 an affront, replied that she might go to Mr. Adolphus 
 Hadlock s, where perhaps her services would be timely. 
 " They are building a smoke house there," said he, " and 
 maybe Aunt Dolphy will let you pass without the word. 
 The whole family is in panics." 
 
 On this cue the Widow sidled up the road ; a little this 
 side of Mr. Hadlock s house she met that gentleman him 
 self, flurrying along the street, armed with a pikestaff, and 
 having his ears, nostrils, and even the garters of his silk 
 stockings, stuffed with varieties of antiseptic herbs, looking, 
 as the children would say, like a crazy man. 
 
 " Now don t," said the Leech, with an air of mock depre 
 cation. " You are teu frightful ! " 
 
 " Do you come from the infected precincts ? " cried the 
 other. "Aristophanes, Ethelbert! Ho, here, Holdup, 
 knave ! Urania Bathsheba, my little daughter, run back, 
 run for your life ! " 
 
 " I han t been nigh the smittlish consarn," said the 
 Leech. " Cock on a hoop ! Don t be so adradd. I 
 would t tech it sooner a cow d eat elder blows. I ve come 
 teu help ye. What have you got in yer nose ? " 
 " Rue and wormwood don t come near our lives de- 
 VOL IT. 5 
 
50 MAHGARET. 
 
 pend on it. Do, Sophronisba, my dear wife, do supply 
 Holdup, he has fallen to the ground. Never mind if he is 
 our servant, the safety of the whole of our darling family 
 is at stake." 
 
 " I ve got the stuff in my pocket," interposed the Widow, 
 " the gennewine sientifikals, what 11 keep off the pest, and 
 cure it when it comes. I am as sound as a new born baby. 
 Let us see what you are deuing here." 
 
 " These are direful days, Mistress Wright," responded 
 Mr. Hadlock. " Our son Socrates, arid Purintha Cap- 
 padocia, our daughter dear, are already under treatment at 
 the Hospital ; and as the law allows and our duty enjoins, 
 we are aiming to prevent the spread of the miasm. We 
 have erected a Fumitory for the more complete cleansing of 
 all that pass this way. Cecilia Rebecca, my dear, do go 
 back and continue your prayers " 
 
 " I can t find it, Papa." 
 
 " That on The Visitation of the Sick." 
 
 fl Where, Papa, where is it." 
 
 " Take the first you come to, one is good as as another in 
 such an extremity ; run child. Don t approach too near 
 the good lady, Aristophanes, lest your garments should 
 brush. Keep the rags burning, my dear Ethelbert." 
 
 " Don t be so despit skeered, Mr. Hadlock," said the 
 Widow. ** Bein I was steeped in their pus and pizens, I 
 tell ye, I can keep ye clear and wholesome as ye was 
 born." 
 
 At the edge of the woods, a rude structure had been 
 hastily thrown up, of staddles interlaced with boughs, and 
 within were quantities of water, soap, salt and vinegar. 
 Over a heap of charcoal and cobs crouched a woman in a 
 tattered and begrimed long-short, with the collar open, 
 exposing a dingy neck and broad shoulders, and blowing 
 
MR. EVELYN S DETENTION. 51 
 
 lustily at the fire, which she was striving to kindle with her 
 breath. 
 
 " How d y e ? Sibyl, for sartain," said the Leech, look 
 ing in. " Wall, if you an t here, pon my soul ! " 
 
 " How s the Widder ? I am glad you ve come," re- 
 ponded Sibyl Radney. 
 
 " Get the pile ignited," exclaimed Mr. Hadlock ; " we 
 can t lose any time." 
 
 "Then you must have some fire," replied Sibyl. I 
 can t make a puss out of a sow s ear, nor light cobs with my 
 windpipe, death or no death." 
 
 " Where is the tinderbox. I thought you had struck a 
 light. Haste, Holdup, knave, get some fresh coals. 
 Havn t you been for the brimstone, yet, Ethelbert, my 
 son?" 
 
 " You told me to keep the rags burning, Papa." 
 
 "Never mind what I told you; run to Deacon Pen- 
 rose s, but don t for dear Heaven s sake go by the road, 
 speed down across the woods." 
 
 " A tough case, I can tell you, Miss Wright," said Sibyl, 
 rising to her feet. u But we mean to stop the plague. We 
 are going to catch every scrag that conies this way from 
 the Pest, and soak, smoke, salt and rub them, till there 
 isn t a hangnail of the pock left. They wont get off so easy 
 as the Colonel did. The law gives it and we ll do it. Here 
 comes Miss Dunlap, and Miss Pottle and Comfort." 
 
 " We are all in a toss, in our neighborhood," said Mis 
 tress Pottle. " I got Comfort to come down with me and 
 see how things were doing. Sylvina is there, if she ain t 
 dead." 
 
 "We heard there was seventeen dead up to yesterday, * 
 said Mistress Dunlap, " and four to be buried to-night ; we 
 
52 MARGARET. 
 
 havn t heard a word from our Myra since they took her 
 down." 
 
 " It s cruel skeersom about there, I knows," said the 
 Widow. "I jest come up, and I had a tight rub teu git 
 by. I cal late my son Obed is lying stone dead there, 
 now." 
 
 " Lord have mercy ! " exclaimed Mistress Pottle. 
 " Comfort, you go to felling trees across the way." 
 
 " They are killin with the lancet, and starvin to death 
 with milksops," said the Widow. " Here s white cohush, 
 it 11 bring out the whelk in less than no time ; brooklime 
 will break any fever. There s lavender and horsemint, 
 and calamus to burn when you go inteu the room. But 
 they won t let me go nigh." 
 
 " Halloo ! " shouted Comfort Pottle, who was busy cut 
 ting trees. " There s Sok., coming up the road ! " 
 
 " Ah, Socrates, my dear son ! " cried the father, darting 
 forwards with his pikestaff. " How why what has hap 
 pened. My dear Triandaphelda Ada, don t be alarmed. 
 Don t come near, my son. What shall we do ! Are 
 you well ? Holdup, knave, where is your crowbar ? 
 Don t cry, Sophronisba, my he is upon us my dear 
 son we shall all be killed ! " 
 
 " I wasn t going to stay any longer," replied the boy, 
 who, with no other vestment than his shirt, was now rapid 
 ly approaching the party. " It didn t take. I stole off 
 through the barn and got into the woods. I havn t had 
 any thing but sour whey and barley-water, this week. If I 
 could get the smell of mother s buttery, the Doctor shouldn t 
 know me for one month." 
 
 " Bide back," said Comfort, striking forwards with his 
 axe. 
 
MR. EVELYN S DETENTION. 53 
 
 " Don t squint your eye towards me," said Holdup, 
 clenching his crowbar. 
 
 " He 11 get well combed before he gets through this," 
 said Sibyl Radney, shaking a thorn-bush in her brawny 
 arms. 
 
 " Let us all retreat a little," said Mr. Hadlock, " and 
 form, with our several instruments, a line both of offence 
 and defence, along which, Socrates, do you proceed into 
 the Fumitory. What an hour ! What a struggle in one s 
 nature ! How the parental feelings in our bosoms, dear 
 wife, are tortured ! But the conflict will soon be over. 
 When you are in, my dear son, take off your shirt, and lay 
 it in the tub of water ; and so dispose yourself over the 
 burning heap that the smoke will reach your whole body." 
 
 The boy, obedient to the paternal wishes, entered the 
 lodge, where he was presently followed by his parents and 
 the women. Meanwhile, being missed from the Hospital, 
 two or three servants were despatched for him. Hastening 
 up the road, and dispersing whatever force was opposed to 
 them, they broke in without ceremony, upon the process 
 the runaway at the moment was undergoing. Four women$ 
 one at each extremity, held the unfortunate youth face 
 downwards over fumes of coal, sulphur, lavender and cal- 
 mus, while the Widow rubbed his back with vinegar. Mr. 
 Hadlock stood a suitable distance from the tub, stirring the 
 shirt with a long pole. As the pursuers entered, this gen 
 tleman, utte-ring a faint scream, bolted through the sides of 
 the hatch. At the cost of a sharp, but short altercation 
 with the women, the fugitive was delivered up, and re 
 turned to the Hospital ; whither, as some of these good 
 mothers are going, let us also betake ourselves. 
 
 These ladies from the smoke-house encountered other 
 elderly women, who with slow step and solemn, air came up 
 5* 
 
54 MARGARET. 
 
 the West Street ; among them were Mistresses Whiston, 
 Joy, Hoag, Ravel, and Brent, whose names have already 
 been mentioned. 
 
 " Can t any of us be admitted ? " inquired Mistress 
 Whiston of Captain Tuck. 
 
 " Not if the Great Queen Catherine herself should apply 
 on her knees before me," replied the trusty warden. 
 
 * Do you know how our little Joan is doing ? " said the 
 lady. 
 
 " None I believe are considered dangerous since the 
 death of Helen Weeks," rejoined the Captain. 
 
 " Poor Miss Weeks ! " ejaculated Mistress Whiston. 
 
 " Mournful times ! " added Mistress Joy. 
 
 " It is most as bad as the Throat Distemper that was 
 round when I was a gal," said one of the ladies ; " there 
 were more dead than alive." 
 
 " So it was in the Rising of the Lights," said another. 
 
 " What is that to the Camp Fever we had in the War ! " 
 echoed the Captain. " There were two shousand sick at 
 one time, and never a quarter recovered ; and we had to 
 march, sick or well, alive or dead." 
 
 "That tells how our Luke came to his end," said Mistress 
 Dunlap. 
 
 " And how glorious it was to die for one s country ! " 
 added the Captain. 
 
 "That was nothing to the Great Earthquake when I 
 was a gal, and lived at the Bay, said Mistress Joy. " The 
 spindle and vane on Funnel Hall was blown down, 
 chimbleys were cracked, brick and tile chocked up the 
 streets. It sounded as if God Almighty s chariot was 
 trundling over the pavements in Old Marlboro ." 
 
 " That was the same year one of the niggers in Kidder- 
 
MR. EVELYN S DETENTION. 55 
 
 minster cut his master s throat, as I have heard Ma am 
 tell," said Sibyl Radney. 
 
 " No, it was four year arter," explained an elderly lady ; 
 " it was the same year our Prudence was born, and that 
 was just four year arter the Earthquake. I can remember 
 an old Indian slave we had at our house, one of the Nip- 
 mucks, and what a time we had of it. Daddy kept him 
 chained nights, but he broke away, and killed one of the 
 men that was sent arter him ; and he was hung the next 
 week. I remember Dad s saying, There goes twenty 
 pounds. But he wouldn t work, and wan t worth his 
 hide." 
 
 " The Indians and Negroes never did us much good," 
 said Mistress Whiston ; " and I am glad there are going to 
 be no more slaves." 
 
 " I cal late as much," said the Widow, " if you had seen 
 the niggers burnt alive down teu York, nigh fifty of um, for 
 bringing in the Papists. My Granther was on the spot 
 and saw it all, and said it did his heart good teu see the fat 
 fry out of the sa cy dogs." 
 
 " I remember," said the Widow Brent, who was a little 
 deaf, " milking a cow a whole winter for a half a yard of 
 ribbin." 
 
 " I remember," said Mistresss Ravel, " the Great Hog, 
 up in Dunwich, that hefted nigh twenty score." 
 
 "Morrow to ye, good wives. Are you not running 
 some risk ? " said a voice behind them, that of Deacon Had- 
 lock, whose approach the ladies, diverted by memories of 
 other days and transported to scenes of legendary horror, 
 had not perceived. 
 
 " I don t know but we are a matter exposed," said 
 Mistress Whiston. 
 
56 MARGARET. 
 
 " I had as lief go right inteu it arm s length," said the 
 Leech. 
 
 " The danger is that you might carry it away in your 
 clothes," answered the Deacon. " I have no business here, 
 but I saw ye all, and I thought I would just ride up and 
 give ye a friendly warning." 
 
 While these ladies disperse it is safe for the rest of us to 
 remain ; and by methods which the vigilance of Captain 
 Tuck cannot counteract we will enter the forbidden spot. 
 
 Favored by a constitution which often in life stood her 
 in hand, Margaret has been able to carry forward her 
 disease more rapidly than many others, and is so far re 
 covered as to have passed from the sick chamber through 
 the " Cleansing Apartment," and is now almost sole occu 
 pant of the " Clean Room." Glad enough is she to exchange 
 mint-tea and jalap for water-gruel and milk-porridge. 
 
 She goes out into the open air. The aspect of things has 
 changed during her confinement. The verdure of nature 
 shows in gold and crimson colors. The frosts have fallen 
 and the flowers are drooping, Summer wilts into Autumn. 
 The fresh air of the heavens and the free tread of the earth 
 were an exhilaration. But when she saw a morning glory 
 with its black, blistered leaves, and heard the feeble notes 
 of the birds wailing a farewell to our northern latitudes, and 
 the mournful underflowing murmurs of the crickets that so 
 betoken a fading season ; and especially when she thought 
 of Helen Weeks, whose death occurred in the same 
 chamber with herself, but at a time when she could be 
 hardly conscious of what transpired, she was seized with a 
 deep melancholy, so that in her present debilitated state 
 she well nigh fainted, and staggering with weakness and a 
 burdensome sense of evil she went back to the house. 
 
MARGARET DEJECTED. 57 
 
 Sorrow for the death of a friend she never before ex 
 perienced, nor was she in a condition most apt for meeting 
 it. She sank in a chair by the window, turned away her 
 face, and in thought wandered confusedly, painfully, darkly, 
 over the trees, the landscape, the sky, God and the 
 Universe. 
 
 Susan Morgridge and Isabel Weeks were yet in the sick 
 room, the latter at a point of dangerous reduction, so much 
 so that her convalescence was for some months delayed. 
 Of Mr. Evelyn she heard he had passed the hands of the 
 cleansers, but she saw nothing of him. To the clean ones, 
 with whom she was now associated, she might have ad 
 dressed herself, but they were strangers to her, and the 
 freedom and spirits most of them seemed to enjoy rendered 
 the weight in her feelings more intolerable, and she was 
 constrained to keep by herself, and spent a good part of 
 two days in solitary reverie by the window. 
 
 On the third day she had the good fortune to see Mr. 
 Evelyn walking in the garden, cloaked and muffled, and 
 tears in fresh large drops rose to her eyes. Presently he 
 sent by one of the attendants a summons to herself which 
 she could not but obey. Clearing her eyes, throwing on 
 shawl and bonnet, she went out. Her face, ordinarily 
 animated with the colors of health and hope, was stricken 
 and sorrowful, and bore evid( nt traces of sickness and dis 
 appointment ; rior was the appearance of Mr. Evelyn 
 altogether dissimilar. He took her hand cordially, and 
 spoke to her soothingly. " Helen," said he, " has indeed 
 gone from us, as all must go at last. But in Christ we 
 never die. By the Atonement are we immortal. Where 
 he is, there shall we be. Possessed of him, death has no 
 terror for us or power over us. The trees fade to renew 
 themselves." 
 
58 MARGARET. 
 
 <; I have felt," said she, "that I should never wish to see 
 another summer, and all beautiful human faces seemed 
 hidden from me forever. But I hope these feelings will 
 not last." 
 
 " Beauty and pureness," said he, " are everlasting ; they 
 are of God, and can never die, They may for a moment 
 be obscured, but they shall reappear in brighter lustre. 
 Angels have charge over them that they dash not their foot 
 against a stone. Let us turn to the pleasant face of God in 
 what is about us." 
 
 " I wish we were at the Pond ; hoV beautiful it is there 
 in the Fall ! You see the woods that go up there meta 
 morphosed into great marigolds filled in here and there 
 with a cardinal flower." 
 
 " They remind one of a flame of fire, still-burning, but 
 not consumed, like the bush of which the Bible speaks. 
 They bring to my recollection an army of staff-officers with 
 crimson coats on roan steeds. Would that all blood were 
 as innocent as that which yonder straggling trooper of a 
 red-maple is dyed with! They call up the solemn convo 
 cations of our old-fashioned Judges in their scarlet robes." 
 
 " You confound me by such things. I should not like to 
 look upon trees from that * stand point ; it savors only of 
 trainings, rum-drinking and jails. I would rather see in 
 them the sunsetting and my dream-clouds." 
 
 " I love the beautiful wherever I see it, and perhaps 
 sometimes see it where I should not. But we are not in 
 strength for disquisitions of this sort. Let us enjoy with 
 out reason. How long do they keep you here, Miss 
 Hart ? " 
 
 " I am sure I don t know. I wish I could go home to 
 day, but the Committee are very exact, and they may hold 
 on to me a month." 
 
AUTUMN. 59 
 
 " Dr. Spoor thinks he can give me a clearance day 
 after to-morrow, and I will intercede with him to let you 
 off. I am anxious to return home, having already been 
 delayed beyond my time, as I must sail so soon." 
 
 " I did not know as you had any home. If I had thought 
 any thing about it, I should have imagined you dropped 
 right out of the sky." 
 
 " I have a home indeed, with a holy mother. 
 
 " I will not laugh, because I cannot laugh. You are so 
 soon away ! I am tired, had we not better return to our 
 rooms ? " 
 
 The extensive grounds of Col. Welch were the allotted 
 limits of the convalescing patients. The next day Mar 
 garet and Mr. Evelyn went out together ; they met others 
 like themselves revelling in their tethered liberties and 
 enjoying the sumptuousness of the hour and the place. 
 Conventional distinctions and proprieties disappeared in 
 this general invalid exuberance, and no surmises were 
 raised or words uttered while the feeble Indian strolled 
 arm in arm with the feeble relative of the Judge. An early 
 frost had smitten the vegetation, but the sun was warm and 
 the air bland. They felt the glow of returning health and 
 invigorated frames, and were grateful for deliverances often 
 delayed and sometimes never afforded. Red squirrels 
 chased one another over crisp leaves on the ground and 
 along the limpid branches of the trees, yelping and chat 
 tering like kingfishers. Fox-colored sparrows, nuthatches, 
 and the great golden-winged woodpecker vied in their 
 notes, and seemed resolved on merriment while the season 
 lasted. They reached the knoll on which the -old Summer 
 house stood ; by broken steps they ascended, and on a 
 broken seat they sat down. 
 
CO MARGARET. 
 
 " Have you strength enough to" sing to me ? " asked Mr. 
 Evelyn. 
 
 " I will sing you Mary in Heaven, " said Margaret. 
 
 The next morning two horses were brought to the gate, 
 one assigned to Margaret, while Mr. Evelyn mounted the 
 other. 
 
 " Are you going up with me ? " said Margaret. 
 
 " I brought you down," replied Mr. Evelyn, u and it is 
 but fair I should see you back." 
 
 They went through the South Street, entered the Brandon 
 road, and ascended the long steep hill Margaret had formerly 
 climbed on her way to Mr. Wharfield s. The Indian 
 Summer had just begun, a soft haze pervaded the atmos 
 phere and settled like a thin gi ay cloud on the horizon ; 
 there was a delicious, sweet, sleep-like feeling filling the 
 universe, both inspiring and tranquillizing. On one side 
 the sky seemed to lean on red trees and green grass ; Mill 
 Brook dashed and tinkled below as through a bed of roses. 
 Margaret s horse proved mettlesome, and she reached the 
 summit-level before Mr. Evelyn. 
 
 " I should have a magnificent scene," said she, turning 
 and waiting for him, " even if I had to see it all alone. 
 You yourself are a live man and horse in a field of embroid 
 ery such as Mrs. Beach can t equal, and she is said to be 
 the most skilful needle-worker in town." 
 
 " Look at your own Mons Christi," said he. " All the 
 looms of the Gobelins could not garnish it so ! There is a 
 solitary maple like a flamingo on its nest of green cedars and 
 laurels." 
 
 " How hot those yellow witch-hazels look under the tall 
 trees, if I were cold I would go in there ; and yonder the 
 dark forest is burning with glowworms and tapers, if I 
 were gloomy I would go in there. I wish, Mr. Evelyn, 
 
AUTUMN. 61 
 
 you ivere going to stay a little longer in Livingston. See 
 that hemlock so covered with gray moss, and there is a 
 bunch of fire-red trees peeping out from green hemlocks 
 behind it. It stands out alone, you see ; its kindred have 
 deserted it, and the mosses are taking pity on its old age. 
 Will you find any thing as beautiful on the sea-coast, or 
 beyond the sea ; the Master says there is nothing like it in 
 Europe." 
 
 " I do not go to the Old World for its scenery, I only 
 wish to see Man there. There is nothing like New 
 England, and nothing in New England like its interior 
 districts. The sea-coast is more level and uniform ; here 
 you have the advantage of mountain, bluff, interval, to set 
 off the view. This autumnal tapestry is hung upon 
 windows and arches and flung over battlements. With us 
 it is only spread on the floor. But why do you notice that 
 old tree ? You are too young to be attracted by age and 
 decay." 
 
 " I don t know I seem sometimes to have lived half a 
 century, and again as if I was just born. How many years 
 I have lived the last month ! When I was very young I 
 used to think this frost-change was owing to yellow bugs, 
 bumble-bees and butterflies lighting on the trees ; and then 
 it was orioles and goldfinches ; and afterwards it seemed to 
 me twilight clouds snowing upon the earth and now 
 now. There is a dash for you, Mr. Evelyn, which the 
 Master says implies a suspension of the sense. Sister 
 Ruth is coming to meet us, let us start our fillies." 
 
 "How is sister Margaret?" said Mrs. Wharfield, ad 
 vancing into the street. 
 
 " This is Mr. Charles Evelyn," said Margaret. 
 
 " Glad to see thee, friend Charles. Will ye not tarry 
 a while ? How is the malady ? " 
 
 VOL. II. G 
 
02 MARGARET. 
 
 "We must hasten home," replied Margaret. They 
 are getting better at the Hospital. Helen Weeks is 
 dead." 
 
 " So we learned. She has found the true light now 
 whereto the world is dark. Farewell, if you cannot rest. 
 Anthony would rejoice to see thee. He has been much 
 moved towards thee, Margaret. 1 
 
 They presently met a drove of cows driven by an old 
 man and a boy. 
 
 " That is Kester Shield, Uncle Ket, the cowherd," said 
 Margaret. " See he is afraid of us, he is running into the 
 woods to escape contagion his cows also are much moved 
 by our horses, as the Quaker said." 
 
 " Phin ! Boy," shouted the old man hiding himself 
 among the brush. " Keep clear of the wind of the horses 
 there there, head off the Parson." 
 
 " Uncle Ket, Uncle Ket, don t be scared," cried Margaret. 
 " We havn t any of the disease. We have been smoked 
 clean." 
 
 The old man continued to retreat, hallooing to his boy. 
 " Keep out of the wind. We shall lose Miss Luce the 
 Parson 11 have them all crazed." 
 
 " We must stop this movement," said Mr. Evelyn. " I 
 will help the boy, while you ride along by the edge of the 
 woods and see if you can compose the old man." 
 
 " The Parson," said the cowherd, whom Margaret 
 reached and quieted, "is the worst pair of horns I ever 
 druv, and I have had the business now rising of sixty year, 
 and take it by and large fifty head a season, and she is the 
 beatomest." 
 
 " Have you, indeed," said Mr. Evelyn, " followed the 
 business so long ? " 
 
 " I was chose arter Old Increase Tapley died. I was 
 
AUTUMN. 63 
 
 prentieed to Old Increase, but he got to be so old I had it 
 pretty much all to myself." 
 
 " How old was he ? " inquired Mr. Evelyn. 
 
 " He was hard on to seventy -five when he died, though 
 he didn t do much a spell before." 
 
 " What is your age, Sir." 
 
 " I was seventy-two, eighteenth day March last ; though 
 I like to have lost one year by them heathenish Papists. 
 Zuds ! you ll begin to think I am getting old too ; I never 
 should have thought of it, I havn t seen an old man this 
 thirty year, they used to be thick as spatter when 1 was a 
 boy ; only there is Old Miss Radney, Sibyl s mother, she s 
 rising of ninety. But, as I was saying, I was chose the 
 very next Town Meeting arter Increase died, I took oath 
 under the Old King Phin, boy, the Parson s hunching 
 Miss Luce and I have been run ever since ; fair or foul, 
 hot and cold, mud and dust, I stick it through." 
 
 "The cows must give you trouble in your advancing 
 years," said Mr. Evelyn. 
 
 "0, it an t a circumstance to what it used to be, when 
 the Injiris skulked round and stole the kine, and run off 
 with the horses in them days we took all sorts the troops 
 in the War pressed some of the best of them, and they tried 
 to make Uncle Ket make it good ; and in Burgwine s time 
 when the Hissians and Highlanders came through, with 
 their check backs, long pipes and busky caps, they distarbed 
 them so it took a whole day to bring them to ; and latterly 
 when the wagons began to come, the whole pack would up 
 and off, capering and snorting, into the wcods. I m glad 
 you keep to the saddle, and don t interfere with people s 
 business. They are fencing in the commons now, and 
 putting their cows to pastur. I had a calculated to leave a 
 handsome run of business to my grandson, Phin. My 
 
64 MARGARET. 
 
 wife is dead, and children, and he and the cows is all there 
 is left. The cows you see are dwindled down to less than 
 a quarter. Great changes Uncle Ket s trade is most 
 done. You are a young man, and I could larn you a good 
 many things. Molly I ve known ever since she was dropt ; 
 she has brought in the strays, and many is the poundage 
 she has saved Uncle Ket. She is brisk-eyed, full-breasted 
 and straight-limbed, as a Devon heifer ; she wants coaxing 
 and patting a little she don t run with the old cows enough 
 to larn their ways. Glad you got through with the pock 
 so well it takes a second time, some say it s worse than 
 horn-ail, hoven or core There, Molly, let Bughorn go by, 
 we will manage them." 
 
 "You see," said Margaret as they rode on, "there are 
 things besides trees to remind us of age and regrets. But 
 I had rather talk of the trees. They become individually 
 developed by the frosts ; you can distinguish them better 
 now than in summer." 
 
 " I have known the beauties of the forest only in the 
 aggregate," said Mr. Evelyn. " It is a fair whole of form, 
 color and effect that interests me. What is that orange- 
 crowned tree glowing so in the sun, over among the 
 pines ? " 
 
 " A rock-maple." 
 
 " These straw-colored trees and that dark purple clump ? " 
 
 " These are oaks, and that is a grove of wild cherries. 
 I know them in the Spring, I seem to half lose them in the 
 Summer; in the Fall they announce themselves again. 
 The red-maple is deep crimson, that tawny-colored grove 
 is beeches, there is the purple woodbine trailing over the 
 rocks. What a pretty picture is that flock of sheep and 
 lambs feeding among the blood-red blueberries ! " 
 
 " Here is a solitary maple, so soft^ transparent, silken, as 
 
AUTUMN. 65 
 
 if the Spirit of Color dwelt in its leaves. These are scenes 
 which Rosa or Poussin could never have commanded." 
 
 " There is some advantage in knowing the detail." 
 
 " Yes, one could not be a Painter or Poet without it." 
 
 " More than that, ourselves are there in those trees. 
 Distress, like the frosts, brings out all our feelings, light 
 and dark, cheerful and sombre. The trees have a sympathy 
 with me. I am but a mottled piece of wild wood. These 
 last weeks have unfolded all my colors. You say you 
 sketch sometimes ; you cannot carry me away in your 
 portfolio, I shall only allow you a leaf. I must grow green 
 again. See those dark trees above, the yellow hobble-bush 
 and brakes below, and on the ground the green arbutus, 
 mosses and wintergreen. The lowest down the greenest. 
 Let me lie low, where no frost can touch me. Shall you 
 ever think of these things when you are away, Mr. 
 Evelyn?" 
 
 " Yes, and I will think of you the wintergreen, unscathed 
 by frost, unaffected by changing seasons." 
 
 " Geodic Christian Androidal Wintergreen Indian Molly 
 Pluck, mater bovum divumque ! what a string of names 
 you put on me ! What shall I call you ? " 
 
 " Let us look a little farther on, and perhaps we shall find 
 something. Here we open into a tropical grove of lemons 
 and oranges, the golden fruit glows on the trees and 
 crackles under the hoofs of our horses ; beyond 1 see a 
 warm sunny vale of tulips and carnations; truly this 
 cannot be surpassed." 
 
 " What say you to the pool of water under that arbor of 
 trees ? I can count you crimson gooseberry, flaming maples, 
 claret sumach, yellow birch and what not." 
 
 " Those are garnets, topazes and sapphires set in a dark 
 rock of polished steel. Indeed, look about you, Miss Hart ; 
 6* 
 
MARGARET. 
 
 would it not seem as if the trees extracted all the colors of 
 the earth, cobalt, umber, lapis-lazuli, iodine, litharge, chrome, 
 and compounding them in the sap, drenched and dyed every 
 leaf ; or as if great Nature herself, making a canvas of the 
 forests, had painted them as you say with rainbows and 
 twilight ? " 
 
 " Do you, Sir, remember what I say ? " 
 " Most certainly I do." 
 
 " So does Job, and Isabel, and I shall have one in 
 Europe, and two in Livingston to remember me. I never 
 before felt there was a pleasure in being remembered, at 
 least such a thing never was a thought to me. And all 
 New England, that you admire so much, you will bear in 
 your heart into Old England ; I wonder what they will 
 think of you ! Here we come to the Delectable Way." 
 
 They rode in silence up the rough ascent. " Will you 
 wear this, Miss Hart?" said Mr. Evelyn, breaking the 
 monotomy, and offering a ring with a small diamond stud. 
 "If my Bona Dea will permit." 
 Who is your Bona Dea? " 
 
 " I think it must be Christ, it used to be something else. 
 I will give you some of these leaves you think so pretty, 
 and there are berries in the woods, the scarlet devil s ear 
 and blue dracira." 
 
 " You must not think of it, you are too weak to dismount. 
 
 A beautiful wish I shall^cherish as much as beautiful fruit." 
 
 " Here in my stirrup," said Margaret, " I can reach the 
 
 leaves. They will keep their color a long time ; there you 
 
 have pink, beet, carrot and what not. Don t lose them." 
 
 Reaching the house, Bull and Dick came out to meet 
 Margaret, her father handed her from the saddle, Chilion 
 undid the budget that was strapped to the crupper, and her 
 mother offered Mr. Evelyn a cup of water. Cassar, the 
 
MR. EVELYN AND CAESAR. 67 
 
 negro servant of Judge Morgridge, to whom the house 
 belonged, had come up across to take the spare beast. 
 
 " God love you, Margaret," said Mr. Evelyn. 
 
 " Christ love you, Mr. Evelyn," said Margaret. 
 
 Mr. Evelyn, with Csesar, rode off through the trees. 
 
 "Dat be one nice gal," said the Negro speaking to 
 relieve the quiet of the way, ef she no hab brack, but only 
 Ingin blood. She steel-trap." 
 
 " What do you mean, Caesar ? " 
 
 " She catch Massa heart." 
 
 "What makes you think so? Was your heart ever 
 caught ? " 
 
 "Yes, once, Phillis Welch grabbed him in her two 
 hands." 
 
 " Has she got it now ? " 
 
 " She took him off wid de Curnel ober de sea in de Wai- 
 time." 
 
 " Don t you love her still ? " 
 
 " Caesar hab two lubs, Massa Pason say, when him jine 
 de Church, de wicked nater lub, and de good God lub, and 
 him kill de wicked nater lub. Caesar fraid Massa no tink 
 ob de Pond wench when him gone." 
 
 " Don t you ever think of Phillis ? " 
 
 " No ; him hab no tink ob Phillis now. De wicked lub 
 tink get in Caesar s heart sometimes, and de old lub tears in 
 his eyes. Massa see Phillis ober de seas, gib Caesar s lub 
 to Phillis, but only for the lub ob God s sake. Tell Phillis, 
 Caesar old, soon sink in the de grabe, meet her in glory ; 
 him hab no wife, no children for Phillis s sake." 
 
 " Can t I think of that young lady the same as you do of 
 Phillis?" 
 
 " Fear Massa not convarted, hab wicked tink, den no tink, 
 lub oder faces." 
 
68 MARGARET. 
 
 Margaret, debilitated by illness and tired by the long 
 ride, went immediately to her mother s bed. In a short 
 time Rose appeared and ministered unto her. The broth 
 of a fresh chicken was prepared; peaches Chilion had 
 saved from her own tree she ate. The next morning she 
 went into the woods and gathered some of the brilliant 
 leaves, corresponding to those she had given Mr. Evelyn, 
 and put them carefully away. She ascended Mons Christi, 
 looked in the direction she supposed Mr. Evelyn had gone, 
 and pressed the ring to her lips and her handkerchief to 
 her eyes. 
 
 " Why do you weep, Margaret ? " was an unanticipated 
 voice. 
 < Rose ! " 
 
 " I followed you up," said Rose. " You were abstracted." 
 * Why do I weep, Rose ? I know not why." 
 " If you do so, it shall be in my arms. I am stronger 
 than you to-day, Margaret. Lay your head here and go to 
 sleep." 
 
 " Nay, Rose, I am very dry, I want some water ; let us 
 go down to the cistern. I shall feel better if I can drink." 
 " Not all the waters of the Pond can quench your thirst, 
 Margaret, methinks." . 
 
 " Let us go, and we will try the plums Judge Morgridge 
 
 sent up this morning, nice damsons. We will also make 
 
 our oblations to Egeria, who has been a long time deserted." 
 
 " Did Judge Morgridge, or Mr. Evelyn, send you these 
 
 plums?" asked Rose when they had gained their retreat. 
 
 " Csesar said it was the Judge," replied Margaret, 
 
 coloring. 
 
 " I thank you ! I thank you ! I love you, Margaret," said 
 Rose, and by a very unexpected movement buried her face 
 with apparent strong feeling in Margaret s lap. 
 
ROSE REAPPEARS. 69 
 
 " Well done, Rose," said Margaret, " you are lux inac- 
 cessa, unapproachable, inexplicable. What is the meaning 
 of this ? You are crushing my bonnet, you are staining 
 yourself with the plums. I have exhausted myself in vain 
 upon you, and have failed to discover you at all, and now 
 you flood me with yourself ! " 
 
 " Margaret ! " said Rose, regaining her position, " you 
 are angry with me ! I have offended you ! " 
 
 " Hold, Rose ! " said Margaret, laying her hand upon her 
 arm. "No one knows what I have felt and suffered for 
 you. I am not angry with you. In my heart I love you, 
 and never more than now. Why did you thank me ? " 
 
 u For that blush when I asked you about the plums," 
 said Rose. 
 
 " In good sooth," replied Margaret, " your face is red as 
 a beet with the plums, now; and I doubt if you would 
 thank me for thanking you for it. Here is my handker 
 chief, wipe it off and we shall be even." 
 
 " Don t laugh at me, Margaret, if you do I can never 
 speak to you again. I have stains in my soul, Margaret, 
 that cannot be so easily effaced." 
 
 " Tell me, Rose," said Margaret, " what is this you 
 speak of?" 
 
 " When I saw the color in your face," replied Rose, " it 
 seemed to me as if you possessed feelings which I never 
 supposed you to have, or you appeared in a light different 
 from ever before." 
 
 " Surely," said Margaret, " you need not have waited for 
 that to know I have in my keeping a pretty considerable 
 variety of emotions, as many as there are speckled hens in 
 our roost." 
 
 " I know," rejoined Rose % " that you have been most 
 kind to me, a perfect angel, and the only one I ever expect to 
 
70 MARGARET. 
 
 see, but you were always happy you said, and you seemed 
 so healthy and strong ; and a certain description of feeling 
 I concluded you were never troubled with. And even 
 while Mr. Evelyn was here you seemed on the whole quiet 
 and undisturbed. But I did see you weep on the hill, and 
 I did see a tremulous flash in your face when I spoke about 
 the plums " 
 
 " And you do suppose I have some feelings of human 
 nature?" 
 
 " Yes, of a kind that would fit me ; I had despaired to 
 find any, wholly such, in the world. You must needs have 
 suffered some in your innermost soul in order to feel with 
 me ; what I supposed had never happened to you." 
 
 " It is sympathy you want," said Margaret. 
 
 u Yes, sympathy," replied Rose, " that is it." 
 
 " That word," said Margaret, " Mr. Evelyn taught me. 
 But I hardly need wait for an instructor to tell me its 
 meaning." 
 
 " I knew you pitied me," said Rose, " but I feared you 
 did not sympathize with me." 
 
 * Well, now," said Margaret, * perhaps after all I do 
 not. How do I know what to sympathize with ? " 
 
 " If you will promise to sympathize without knowing pre 
 cisely what with, I will tell you. Margaret ! " continued 
 Rose solemnly, " do not I exhibit symptoms of a decline ? 
 Can I live long ? I do not wish to. But before I die you 
 shall know all I have to say." 
 
 " I will see that you do not die, Rose, if you will only 
 tell what you are." 
 
 "A broken-hearted girl, Margaret, that is the whole. 
 Can you sympathize with that?" 
 
 " I knew, dear Rose, something pierced and wounded you 
 inwardly, and by intimations of which I can give no account 
 
ROSE REAPPEARS. 71 
 
 I have felt it all. It has been repeated in my own breast, 
 though I never spoke of it. Come where you need to be, 
 into my arms, Rose, and speak or be silent, as you like. 
 That word broken-hearted is a strange word ; I never 
 heard it methinks before. I have heard of puppet-hearts, 
 and wicked hearts, and hard hearts, but never till now, 
 Rose, of a broken heart." 
 
 " A broken heart is all I boast of, and a poor thing it is, 
 and sad its story to me, perhaps to you foolish." 
 
 " I have seen nothing foolish in you, Rose, only some 
 things that I could not understand, and some that made me 
 very sad. Do tell me all." 
 
 "I am simply one," said Rose, " who has pined for human 
 sympathy, a disease of which I am about to die, coupled with 
 a few other things. But let me tell you, you once asked my 
 name. I used to be called Rose Elphiston. 1 had a father, 
 a mother, and a dear sister. My native town is Win- 
 denboro , about thirty miles hence. My father was a 
 clergyman, venerable and esteemed. We were a very 
 happy family, none could be more so, until I ruined their 
 happiness. O, Margaret, you have no sins to cause you 
 to shed tears, as I have but hear. I had companions, 
 pretty and lively young girls, with whom I ought to have 
 been content, but was not. No voice spake what my heart 
 felt, no eyes saw what mine did, so I must needs be silent, 
 and look where others did not, and then I took to making 
 company of brooks and flowers and my own thoughts, and 
 such things. I thought I would give the universe if I 
 could find somebody s else heart beating into my own, or 
 somebody s else eyes looking through mine. I longed for 
 a twin existence ; to drive and find myself in another. My 
 father and mother loved me, and my sister was always kind 
 to me, but she had not the same feelings that I had. One 
 
72 MARGARET. 
 
 day there was a donation party at our house. The ladies 
 of the town brought their wheels and spun quantities of 
 flax, which they gave to my mother ; and the young men 
 made an ox-sled that they presented to Pa. A merry time 
 it was, and I enjoyed it with the rest. Among the young 
 men was a stranger in town, a gentleman from New York, 
 who was called Raxman. He contributed largely towards 
 the sled. He spoke to me in a manner different from the 
 rest; he was a great admirer of nature, and seemed in many 
 things to anticipate my own feelings. My thought, and I 
 do not know but I must say my affections, turned towards 
 him with the quickness of the needle to the pole. All at 
 once I fancied that in him my ideal was complete. But I 
 am only telling you a love-story, Margaret." 
 
 " It is all new and strange to me, Rose ; do tell me every 
 thing." 
 
 " But Raxman was base and unprincipled. I was horror- 
 struck, stupefied at his conduct, I know not what, I must 
 have fainted ; I only remember being borne into the house 
 of one of our town s folk ; and then walking home. A 
 crowd of people met me in the way with taunts and hisses. 
 I seemed to lose my self-control, I became confused and 
 maddened. I did not answer my own parents coherently. 
 I was summoned before a magistrate, and condemned to 
 stand in the pillory with a rope on my neck, and have a 
 significant red letter sewed to my back. My father most 
 earnestly interceded for me, and only the latter part of the 
 sentence was executed. Raxman fled. I was reduced to 
 a state bordering on distraction, I would make no con 
 fession, I repelled and scoffed at the whole world I tore 
 the detested badge from my shoulders. I was caught in the 
 streets by my own playmates, carried to women who had 
 once loved me as a daughter, and by their own hands was 
 
ROSE REAPPEARS. 73 
 
 it replaced. My father interposing in my behalf, lost credit 
 with the parish, old difficulties were renewed, and by this 
 head of opposition he was swept from his influence, his 
 salary and his pulpit. He died soon of that disease with 
 which his daughter will ere long follow him, a broken heart, 
 My mother, always of a delicate constitution, enfeebled by 
 the excitement of the times, was not long behind my father ; 
 she too died. My sister became insane. I alone watched 
 by her in her fearful ravings ; I prayed that I might become 
 insane too. She at length took the mood that I was her 
 enemy, and I was obliged to leave her ; she was carried to 
 the poorhouse. On me no door was opened, to me no 
 friendly face was turned. An example, they said, must be 
 made of the Parson s daughter, her will must be humbled ; 
 1 if she escapes, contamination will spread in all our 
 families. I could not yield. All the energies of my 
 being rebelled. In addition, let me tell you, my father 
 was a believer in the doctrine of Election and Repro 
 bation. What he preached I found myself compelled to 
 carry out in practice ; I believed myself thoroughly repro 
 bated. In my earliest years I was very thoughtful, it was 
 said that I often experienced the strivings of the Holy 
 Spirit, I was under conviction three months, and at last 
 obtaining a hope, was admitted to the Church you do not 
 understand these things, Margaret, your education has been 
 so different " 
 
 " Only tell them, Rose, and I shall understand them." 
 " Even then I was not at ease ; the first flush of youthful 
 enthusiasm soon spent itself, and pious people np longer 
 satisfied me ; the singing of hymns and going to Pre 
 paratory Lectures became irksome. I sought in books and 
 the woods what I did not find in religion. My father s 
 sermons, my mother s private admonitions had no effect 
 
 VOL. II. 7 
 
74 MARGARET. 
 
 upon me. I found myself growing hard as a rock to all 
 serious impressions. Being negligent in my Christian 
 duties, I became the subject of Church accusation and 
 reprimand. I felt badly to be disgraced, I have wept 
 bitter tears when I thought of my mother s tears, but 
 religious considerations had not a tittle of weight with me. 
 In this situation I was when I encountered Raxman, on the 
 one hand yearning for an indefinite good, and most 
 sensitive to all impressions of beauty ; on the other, 
 reduced by a consciousness of religious dereliction, and 
 wholly indifferent to the state of my soul. The sequel of 
 that acquaintance I have told you. Disgraced, discarded, 
 bereaved, with Job I would have cursed God and died. I 
 went to an uncle s of mine, in a distant town, a kind- 
 hearted man, who sought, as he said, to bring me to re 
 pentance, and restore my Christian peace, by an application 
 of the truths of the Gospel. This only rendered my situa 
 tion more intolerable. I knew of a cousin of my mother, 
 the Widow Wright, who had once been at our house ; I 
 knew her temperament and habits, I knew how secluded 
 she lived, and thinking that I could at least die with her, if 
 not live, and that I could render myself so useful my 
 support would not be a burden, hither I came. I learned 
 of my sister s death before I left my uncle s. Here you 
 behold me, as 1 told you, a broken-hearted girl, a wreck, a 
 mutilation, a shadow ! " 
 
 " Rose, poor Rose, dear Rose," outspoke Margaret, 
 "come to my heart, lie down in my spirit, return to your 
 sorrow s home in my soul. A prophetic, unconscious 
 sensation is fulfilled in you ! An unknown aching corre 
 spondency of feeling is satisfied ! You shall be renewed in 
 my arms, you shall live in my lo^e." 
 
 " O Margaret ! " replied Rose, " I am vile, I am sinful. 
 
ROSE REAPPEARS. 75 
 
 Your pureness appalls me. Yet if I might but die, and be 
 buried here, it were all I should ask. The prayers of my 
 innocence I can utter no more, the dreams of my childhood 
 are fled, the happiness of youth is gone, the inner strength 
 of virtue I no more feel, on the face of Beauty I wish no 
 more to look, the bloom of nature is transformed to dark 
 ness and dread, the voices of birds fill me only with 
 remorse. Man and woman I loathe, God is not. Yes, I 
 have become an atheist, I believe nothing, and at times I 
 fear nothing." 
 
 " Your sorrowful pathway, Rose, I am sure I have 
 followed, I have overtaken you to be only your own sad 
 sister. Why did you not speak of these things before? " 
 
 " Only, Margaret, because I wronged you. I felt that I 
 never could speak of myself to any one. Who could 
 sympathize with me ? Who could bear the burden of my 
 heart ? But when I knew that you too had suffered, when 
 I saw your own heart innerly moved, I could no mere 
 restrain myself. I am sometimes light-hearted, or I should 
 say light-headed, blithe and free, and sometimes dejected 
 beyond recovery or reason all this you have seen and 
 wondered at." 
 
 " I have seen it yes but Father Democritus, I think^ 
 will explain it. The spirits/ he says, * are subtile vapors 
 expressed from the blood, and these, coursing backwards 
 and forwards between the brain and the heart, produce all 
 sorts of feelingsT Besides, Rose, this melancholy of yours 
 is not of the dark kind, but very white, and I think it may 
 be cured. Exercise is recommended, i good air, music, 
 gardening, swimming, hunting, dancing, laughing, all these 
 we have. Spoon meat and pure water, he says, are ex 
 cellent ; balm and aniseed tea will drive away dumps 
 and cheer the spirits, and these your aunt, the Widow, will 
 
76 MARGARET. 
 
 furnish. You never read the Anatomy of Melancholy ; it 
 is a most wonderful book, and will cure you immediately." 
 <k You are good, Margaret, if you do banter me. If I 
 were any body else but what I am, I should more than 
 half believe what you say to be true. That I can laugh, 
 you know* That I love Chilion s music, you also know. I 
 would dance if I had an opportunity. I used to think it a 
 sin, but all qualms of that sort are gone forever." 
 " Eat the plums, Rose." 
 " I will, for Mr. Evelyn s sake," 
 
 " For my sake, for their own sake. You would not see 
 Mr. Evelyn ! " 
 
 " No ; I could see nobody but you* I was too, too much 
 ennuyee, too wicked." 
 
 " Eat the plums, and perhaps I have a story to tell you 
 
 of " 
 
 " Mr. Evelyn ? " 
 
 " No ; but of somebody. I shall not tell you who, Mr. 
 Anonymous." 
 
 " Really, Margaret, I am anxious to hear. What have 
 you to say ? Where did you see him ?" 
 
 " Here, at the Pond. My story is not so long as yours, 
 and I will begin with what I know. Scarlet coat, white 
 breeches, Napoleon hat, sparkling black eyes, large black 
 whiskers meeting under his chin, like a muskrat." 
 " Raxman ! " 
 
 " Raxman ! What do you mean ? " 
 " It was he. A soft, pleasant voice ? " 
 " Yes." 
 
 " Raxman. The very same." 
 
 " I do remember his echoing your name in a strange 
 way, when I told him such a one was in the neighbor 
 hood." 
 
ROSE REAPPEARS. 77 
 
 " I did not think of it at the time, but I can recollect a 
 sort of suspicion I had that he was here. Obed told me 
 of his rencontre on the Head. But what with the boy s 
 fear and his ardor, his perceptions were not very clear, 
 and all he remembered was the black whiskers. I 
 have suspected, too, that my aunt knew of him, but she is 
 a very queer woman, and I do not pretend to sound her. 
 Were you not afraid ? " 
 
 " No more than I am of the cows, who are ever disposed 
 to yield the path when I am ready to demand it ; this I have 
 been trying to teach Isabel, who always runs from them. 
 Obed s tempestuousness may have hastened that man s de 
 parture, but it did not secure my safety. Indeed, he inter 
 rupted me sorely, and I lost patience. It was Court week, 
 you know, and I supposed it was some lawyer, or other 
 stranger in town ; he came two or three times, his man 
 ners, as Mrs. Beach would say, were excellent. Yet I was 
 perfectly alone even while he was present. He was no 
 company to my thought, and when at last he broke in upon 
 my solitude, by kneeling before me and saying something 
 about adoration, he so far recalled me to myself and attract 
 ed my attention, that I cried out at the intrusion." 
 
 " And so you wonder," said Rose, " that my name and 
 his should ever be brought together, that I could have been 
 drawn towards him. You will blame me more than you 
 pity me." 
 
 " Why should I blame you ?" 
 
 " For loving Raxman." 
 
 " Ought I not to honor you for that ? What else, as a 
 Christian, could you do, if he were the pitiful wretch you 
 describe ? " 
 
 " Death and forever, Margaret ! Don t you know I am 
 7* 
 
78 MARGARET. 
 
 no Christian ; that I abhor and eschew the name ; you 
 know I mean something different from such an affection." 
 
 " What do you mean ?" 
 
 " An absorbing concentration on some one object, an in 
 tense movement to a single point, a gravitation of your 
 whole being around a solitary centre." 
 
 " Is that what you mean by love ? " 
 
 " Yes. You think of nothing else, dream of nothing else, 
 care tor nothing else, as you do for that one object." 
 
 " And all this you felt for Raxman ? " 
 
 " No, no, no ! I wanted to feel it for some one. I wanted 
 some Infinite to come and take up my soul, and he, a devil, 
 disguised as an angel of light, appeared and deluded me. I 
 cannot tell all I felt for him ; it was something ; it was too 
 much, but it was not that. His dress or look did not capti 
 vate me. He did indicate a sort of sympathy for my tastes, 
 and my solitariness, a meteoric, impassioned counterfeit of 
 the thing. He made no impression on you, and me he 
 affected deeply ! " 
 
 " How shall I blame you for that ? What you have said, 
 Rose, is new, anagogic, mysterious " 
 
 " Wholly so ? Nay, tell me, Margaret." 
 
 " How urgent you are, Rose ! " 
 
 " Is there no oneness, no individuality, to all you feel, or 
 ever have felt ? " 
 
 " I love Chilion, and Isabel; and Job, and Rose." 
 
THE HUSKING BEE. 79 
 
 CHAPTER VI. 
 
 THE HUSKING BEE. 
 
 IT was now later in the Fall. The leaves of the trees, 
 merging from their bright dappled colors into a dull, uni 
 form brown, had dropped to the earth, and were swept by 
 the winds in dusty crackling torrents, and borne to unknown 
 resting-places on the bosom of every tinkling rill. The 
 crops were harvested; potatoes garnered in the cellar, 
 apples carried to the cider-mill, corn stacked for husking. 
 A part of Margaret s work for the season was gleaning 
 from the bounties of forest and field ; and aided by Rose, 
 she got quantities of walnuts, chestnuts, and vegetable 
 down. 
 
 The family had formerly relied on beasts of the chase to 
 meet their extraneous expenses, but Chilion was no longer 
 able to hunt for them, even if the supply itself were not 
 diminished. What a poorly-cultivated farm afforded could 
 no more than keep these people in food and clothing. Pluck 
 had done little towards the redemption of his estate. Nor 
 could it fail of observation that Solomon Smith had ren 
 dered himself quite conspicuous of late, in urging the claim 
 of his father on Mr. Hart. It was evident he regarded 
 Margaret, and through her, the whole house, with a pointed 
 interest, a mixed feeling of aversion and esteem. Ever 
 since the unfortunate issue of the gold-hunt, he seemed to 
 look upon her as his evil genius, yet one of a nature not 
 to be slighted, and whose favor it was worth no small effort 
 to gain, 
 
80 MARGARET. 
 
 At the time in which this chapter opens, the affairs of 
 the family were not a little involved. There were sundry 
 items at Deacon Penrose s ; a large item of rum, interest 
 money, expenses accruing at the hospital, etc., and a beg 
 garly account of offsets. Nimrod might have afforded 
 some relief, but his habits were reckless as his temper was 
 volatile ; he tended bar, groomed, raced, peddled, smuggled, 
 blacksmithed, and what not, but saved little money. The 
 drafts on Mr. Girardeau were regularly made and con 
 scientiously devoted to Margaret. What she earned dur 
 ing her few weeks school-keeping, Pluck refused utterly to 
 employ on his own necessities, but insisted she should lay 
 it out for clothes. Mistress Hart, originally a good weaver, 
 fell off in her care and her business together, and drank more, 
 and was more irritable than ever ; while her husband, from 
 the same cause, grew every day more merry. Through 
 the intercession of Deacon Ramsdill and Master Elliman, 
 Esq. Beach consented to receive Margaret as private tutor 
 to his children ; a duty upon which she was expecting to 
 enter immediately after the Husking Bee, the great an 
 nual family festival. Before attending to that, let us go 
 back in our narrative for a moment. 
 
 The early infantile relations of Margaret cannot have 
 been forgotten. What became of Mr. Girardeau ? Had 
 he no knowledge of Margaret these many years ? It may 
 not be out of place to state the following. The year pre 
 vious to that of the present chapter, there came to the Pond 
 an old man wearing a wig, and dressed in other respects 
 like a clergyman. When he entered the house, Brown 
 Moll, who seemed to have an intuitive dread of the cloth, 
 disappeared, and the stranger was left alone with Margaret. 
 He asked for a cup of water, gave her a close perusal with 
 his eye, inquired the road to Parson Welles s, mounted his 
 
THE HUSKING BEE. 81 
 
 horse and disappeared. This was Mr. Girardeau. His 
 object in this transient visit is not disclosed. 
 
 At the Bee, which fell on a pleasant evening, in the early 
 part of October, were collected sundry people from the 
 several districts bordering on Mons. Christi ; there were 
 also present the Master, Abel Wilcox, Sibyl Radney, and 
 Rose, who if she had become an inmate, as Margaret 
 promised, of her heart, was almost equally so of her house 
 and bed. Nimrod was also at home, and for his honor in 
 part this occasion was supposed to make. The corn was 
 piled in the centre of the capacious kitchen, around the 
 heap squatted the buskers. The room was abundantly as 
 well as spectrally lighted from the immense fireplace 
 briskly glowing with pitch knots and clumps of bark. 
 Chilion sat near the fire, quietly busy, platting a basket, 
 which he now and then laid down for his fiddle, as better 
 suited to the hour. The workmen varied their labors with 
 such pleasantry as was natural to the occasio n ; great ardor 
 was evinced in pursuit of the red ear, for which piece of 
 fortune the discoverer had the privilege of a kiss from any 
 lady he should nominate. The much coveted color at last 
 made its appearance in the hands of Solomon Smith ; but 
 Ambrose Gubtail said that Solomon brought it in his pocket, 
 while Smith himself was equally certain he found it in the 
 heap. Relying upon this assurance he announced that 
 he should select Margaret for the customary favor, while 
 she delayed responding to his call till it should be ascer 
 tained how he came by the ear in question ; and thus for 
 the present the matter dropped. The pile was finished, 
 and the hard glossy ears were stowed under the eaves of the 
 garret. Next came a brief relay of food and drink. This 
 was followed by a dance, in form and spirit befitting the 
 character of the company and that of their musician. Even 
 
82 MARGARET. 
 
 Rose dismissed her gloom and exchanged smiles with 
 Margaret, when Master Elliman, in full-blown wig and 
 flaunting cuffs, sought her for a partner, and, bowed her to 
 the floor with the precise courtliness and bland mannerism 
 of the Old School. Next succeeded a scene that promised 
 greater entertainment than any thing before. 
 
 A long table of rough boards stretched across the room, 
 laden with the fruits of the season, pewter platters of cakes, 
 bottles of wine and spirits, and prominently, the silver 
 family tankard of cider. These were in part the contribu- 
 bution of the Master, Nimrod, and the neighbors, who in 
 this matter were either returning or anticipating obligations 
 in kind. Preeminent above all in the centre of the table 
 was a grotesque piece, a pyramidal pile of pumpkins, each 
 emptied of its core, perforated with sundry holes, and 
 containing a piece of lighted candle ; and the whole 
 representing a very comical sort of lantern, or a monstrous 
 beast bestarred with glaring eyes. Pluck sat at the head 
 of the table, having Rose at his side, Master Elliman 
 occupied the foot ; the others were disposed on blocks of 
 wood, the shaving horse and the kit. Margaret lighted 
 the pumpkin-chandelier, and took her seat by the fire 
 opposite Chilion. 
 
 " Brethren and Sisters," began Pluck, who was excited 
 by liquor, "it behoveth us to proceed with solemnity. 
 
 "In yonder pumpkin shrine burn the fires of our Divinity, 
 fed by mutton tallow. Rising all, in meek obeisance due, 
 pressing the bottom of our soles, worship we his Majesty. 
 Thy health we drink, thy name we praise, GREAT KING 
 OF PUPPETDOM ! defender by the grace of God of England, 
 France and America ; with the most serene, serene, most 
 puissant, puissant, high, illustrious, noble, honorable, wise 
 and prudent Burgomasters, Counsellors, Governors, Com- 
 
THE HUSKING BEE. 83 
 
 mittees and all demigods of thy powerful and mighty realm. 
 Now, brethren, sincethe gods help them that help them 
 selves, as Poor Richard says, let us verify the promise, by 
 laying hold. In the words of my bibblecal son, Mahar- 
 shalalhashbaz, I feel that in my flesh dwelleth no good 
 thing. Rose, dear, have an apple, a pearmain, here is no 
 curse ; it shall wed your name to your face ; pity it is, as 
 the old Indian said, Eve had not left the apples to make 
 cider with. S death ! how pale you grow. Take some 
 genuine Bacrag. That s charming. What a nice example 
 you set to our Molly. 
 
 When I drain the rosy bowl, 
 Joy exhilarates my soul. " 
 
 " I dont hold to getting drunk," said Abel Wilcox. " I 
 believe in drinking just enough." 
 
 " Thou art an homulculus, Abel," responded Master 
 Elliman, waving to and fro betwixt inebriation and an 
 attempt to be merry. " Thou wilt not reel in honest drunk 
 enness but dost posture-make before heaven and earth after 
 a most damnable sort." 
 
 " How pleasant tis to see 
 Brethren to dwell in unitee / " 
 
 drawled Pluck. " The toasts, friends. Twelve, in honor 
 of the Twelve Apostles. 
 
 " First ; Ourselves, and all that pertains to us. 
 
 " Second ; The Constituted Authorities of every man s 
 body and mind. 
 
 " Third; Freedom of speech, thought, touch, sight, smell, 
 taste, earth and air. 
 
 " Fourth ; Jemima Wilkinson, Consul Napoleon, Dr. 
 Byles and St. Tammany. 
 
 " Fifth ; Success to our arms. 
 
84 MARGARET. 
 
 " Sixth ; The Memory of the brave Johnny Stout. 
 
 " Seventh ; The Patriots of the Pond, No. 4, Breakneck 
 and Snakehill. 
 
 " Eighth ; Perpetual itching without the benefit of scratch 
 ing to all our enemies. 
 
 " Ninth ; All true and upright Masons, who saw the 
 East when the light rose, and, by name, the Right Wor 
 shipful, Past Grand Deacon, Bartholomew Elliman, 
 pedagogue ; with a tear for all brother Cowans. 
 
 f( Tenth ; All pumpkin-headed, mutton-tallow-lighted 
 Gods and Goddesses, Priests and Lawyers. 
 
 " Eleventh ; The liquor of Jove. 
 
 Anacreon. they say, was a jolly old blade, 
 Good wine, boys, said he, is the liquor of Jove. 
 
 " Twelfth ; The Officers and Soldiers in the Present 
 War." 
 
 Abel Wilcox. " Now that the Regulars are disposed of, 
 I begin with the volunteers. 
 
 " Death to the Excise Laws." 
 
 Joseph Whiston. " The memory of Eli Parsons and 
 Daniel Shays, with a tear for Bly and Rose." 
 
 Brown Moll. " General Washington, Jonathan Trumbull 
 and John Hancock." 
 
 Pluck. King George III," 
 
 Mr. Tapley. " Samuel Adams." 
 
 Tony, the Barber. " The honorable Profession of all 
 gentlemen." 
 
 The Widow Wright. " Death teu quacks and success 
 teu the gennewines. 
 
 The Master. " Mistress Margaret, C. B. Gustos Bibble- 
 orum." 
 
 Many Voices. " Margaret, Margaret ! " 
 
 Pluck. " Let this be drank standing." 
 
THE HUSKING BEE. 85 
 
 The Master. " Nay, good friends, be not too hasty. 
 Feminam et vinura, Margaret, C. B. and the Bey of 
 Muscat." 
 
 "Do drink with us," called Rose to Margaret, who 
 quietly tended the fire. " There is marvellous relief in it. 
 Let us accept what the hour gives and forget ourselves. I 
 have heard of drowning sorrows in liquor, why retain 
 them when they can be despatched so easily ? " 
 
 "Jam satis nivis ; mea discipula, 
 Nunc est bibendum, nunc pede libero 
 Pulsanda tcllus," 
 
 added the Master. 
 
 " Come, Molly, pretty dear ; " set in her father, " no black 
 strap to night ; no switchel, or ginger-pop. Brown Bastard, 
 Aqua Ccelestis, Geneva, Muscadine have your choice ; 
 come crush a glass with your dear Papa ; and all this nice 
 company. You have skinked quite long enough." 
 
 u I hold under my thumb and finger the veritable Lach 
 rymal Christi," resumed the Master, "just what you are in 
 search after, Mistress Margaret." 
 
 " Tears of Christ ! " answered Margaret. " Can it be 
 that name is given to any ? Who could have thought of the 
 idea ? I could drink a barrel of those tears." 
 
 " The unsophisticated, megalopsychal, anagogical Lach- 
 ryma3 Christi ! " rejoined her teacher. 
 
 " The songs, gentlemen and ladies, the songs," vociferated 
 the head of the house. 
 
 " Let us edify ourselves with one stanza of the New 
 England Hymn in memory of our distinguished friend and 
 the prince of Paronomasiacks, Dr. Byles," said the Master ; 
 whereupon they all sang 
 
 " To Thee the tuneful Anthem soars, 
 
 To Thee, our Fathers God, and ours ; 
 VOL. IT. 8 
 
86 MARGARET. 
 
 This "Wilderness we chose our seat ; 
 To Rights secured by Equal Laws, 
 From Persecution s Iron Claws, 
 We here have sought our calm retreat." 
 
 Pluck himself then sang: 
 
 " God bless our king 
 And all his royal race ; 
 Preserve the Queen, and grant that they 
 May live before thy face." 
 
 Immediately his loving wife answered in agreeable 
 antiphony : 
 
 " These shouts ascending to the sky 
 Proclaim Great Washington is nigh ! 
 Let strains harmonious rend the air, 
 For see, the Godlike Hero s here ! 
 
 Thrice hail ! Columbia s favorite Son ! 
 
 Thrice welcome, matchless Washington ! " 
 
 " You ve got the fogs broke ; let us have a few select 
 pieces," cried Pluck. " Sweet Sibyl begin. What shall it 
 be give us Lovewell s Fight. " 
 
 The delicate maiden, thus invited, with tone and cadence 
 that cannot be described while it yet captivated her 
 audience, sang a lay which an earlier patriotism had 
 inspired, and such as was still cherished by the people : 
 
 " Of worthy Captain Lovewell I purpose now to sing 
 How valiantly he served his country and his king 
 Twas nigh unto Pigwacker, on the eighth day of May, 
 They spied the rebel Indians soon after break of day. 
 
 "Our worthy Captain Lovewell among them there did die, 
 They killed Lieutenant Kobbins, and wounded good young Frye, 
 Who was our English Chaplain ; he many Indians slew, 
 And some of them he scalped when bullets round him flew." 
 
 " Grace, thou apostolic child, give us the pathetic," was 
 
THE HUSKING BEE. 87 
 
 the next call of the president of the assembly. " Chilion, 
 you must change your key ; try some Malaga, my son." 
 
 Grace Joy indulged them with a ballad that brought 
 more tears into the eyes of the friends of Margaret than it 
 ever will again ; a portion of which is preserved : 
 
 " Come listen all, while I a mournful tale do tell ; 
 John Clouse, poor youth, in wicked ways he fell ; 
 Nor had he reached his twentieth year and three, 
 When he hung on the awful gallows-tree. 
 
 " Gainst Abr ham Dade his murderous envy moved, 
 In youth s soft years they oft together roved 
 At dead of night he seized his axe, and swore 
 Ere morning light Abr ham should be no more." 
 
 " Beulah Ann will favor us with the sentimental," said 
 Pluck. " New cider, my son, soft and sweet." 
 
 This young lady responded in such lines as these : 
 
 " Hard is the fate of him who loves, 
 Yet dares not tell his am rous pain 
 But to the sympathetic groves, 
 But to the lonely listening plain. 
 
 " Ye Nymphs ! kind spirits of the vale, 
 Zephyrs ! to whom our tears are dear, 
 From dying lilies waft a gale, 
 Sigh Strephon in his Delia s ear." 
 
 " We want a dash of the heroic," continued the chairman. 
 " Molly, the Indian s Death Song ; you like the Indians, 
 show them off to the best advantage. Silence all." 
 
 Margaret repeated what Chilion had taught her, and 
 what she had more than once sung in the loneliness arid 
 grandeur of the hills about them : 
 
 " The sun sets at night and. the stars shun the day, 
 But glory remains when the light fades away; 
 Begin, ye Tormentors ! Your threats are in vain, 
 For the Son of Alcomack shall never complain. 
 
88 MARGARET. 
 
 " I go to the land where my Father has gone, 
 His spirit shal rejoice in the fame of his son ; 
 Death comes like a friend to relieve me of pain, 
 But the Son of Alcomack shall never complain. 1 
 
 " Beautiful ! glorious ! " so the old man applauded his 
 child ; but having copiously shared in festivities that he 
 helped apace, advancing from liveliness to extravagance, 
 he rapidly fell into his wonted dediriura. " How the 
 pumpkin gods grin! "he shouted. "Another brimmer! 
 Scrape away, Chilion. Egad ! what a breeze we are get 
 ting into ! Hoora for the Old Bastile ! I goes ahead, keep 
 up who can : 
 
 " They re for hanging men and women, 
 They re for hanging men and women, 
 They re for hanging men and women, 
 
 In the Old Bastile. 
 
 Then the Priests should be the hangmen, 
 Then the Priests should be the hangmen, 
 Then the Priests should be the hangmen, 
 
 And do the bloody work. 
 Pulpit Priests are the Baalams, 
 Pulpit Priests are the Baalams, 
 And the People are the Asses, 
 Whom they ride to Death and Hell. 
 
 " Ho ! neighbors, a hurdj-gurgy. See the puppets caper. 
 There s two priests, in sailor s rig, black-balling one an 
 other. Whew ! That s Religion you see next, in Harle 
 quin s dress ; with Faith and Repentance playing Punch 
 and Judy. Six Pumpkin gods after a nincompoop sinner ! 
 Grind away, my boy " 
 
 " Pa is going off, Nimrod," said Margaret, " what shall 
 we do?" 
 
 u Never mind," replied her brother, " he ll come to. He 
 flakes and scatters like hot iron ; get some water, that will 
 cool him." 
 
THE HUSKING BEE. 89 
 
 " Haven t you learned your manners yet, Miss Molly?" 
 continued the old man, in his wild, wandering way. " Speak 
 not at the table ; if thy superiors be discoursing, meddle 
 not with the matter. Smell not of thy meat, turn it not the 
 other side upward to view it upon thy plate. Talk not in 
 meeting, but fix thine eye on the minister. Pull off thy hat 
 to persons of desert, quality, or office. Hem ! you ll never 
 do for Miss Beach, in the world, till you learn your rules. 
 Don t interrupt the sport. Knuckle to, my good fellow. 
 Ha ! ha ! King George and old Johnny Trumbull playing 
 football with the head of the people. Look sharp, Rose. 
 Land ! what s this? Old Nick himself, in a coach and two, 
 with the Parson s wig and bands ; the Archbishop of Can 
 terbury on the box ; St. Peter and Whitfield outriding. 
 Give them the long oats, Old Sacristy ! Jack Pudding 
 baptizing four Indians in the River Jordan ; souse them un 
 der, they ll be damned if you leave a hair dry " 
 
 " Don t let him go on so," said Margaret ; " shall I 
 sprinkle it in his face ? " 
 
 " Hand me the gourd," answered Nimrod ; " I ll make 
 him sober as a walrus." 
 
 " Don t refuse a penny, my boy, glory ! " continued 
 the frantic wretch. " Didn t coachee throw the silk hand 
 somely, Rose ? Don t have such a show every day. By 
 the living jingo ! it grows cold and dark. Don t I shiver? 
 Has it rained over night ? You are all here, ladies and 
 gentlemen, hope none of you are wet. Molly, pile on the 
 chips. Hand down the pipes ; who will smoke ? Give 
 your dear mamma the tobacco. Here is for a game of 
 cards, Old Sedge ; the most worshipful Deacon, my bib- 
 blecal son, Nimrod, and the divine Widow, come. Grace, 
 you stand flasher. Cut, my son. It s the divinity s deal 
 we shall have fair play. Clubs trumps, knock down and 
 8* 
 
90 MARGARET. 
 
 drag out. You are flush, Nimrod, in your face, if you an t 
 in hand." 
 
 "You ll have teu put mugwort in yer stampers, Old 
 Crisp, before ye ketch me this time, I cal late ; I m high, 
 low," vapored the Widow. 
 
 " I m Jack and game," said Nimrod. 
 
 " You are two and. Round again," was the answer of 
 the father. 
 
 " That is not conformable to syntactic rules. Conjunc- 
 tiones copulative conjungunt verba similia," the Master 
 attempted to deliver himself. 
 
 " Molly, dear," said Pluck, very softly, " stir the embers, 
 we want some light on this subject. What are you doing 
 with Sol Smith in the corner ? Is he giving you lessons 
 in the bibblecal art ? 
 
 " Studium grammaticum omnibus est necessarium," mur 
 mured the Master. 
 
 " Come, Molly, unravel the skein of the Master s," in 
 sisted Pluck. 
 
 " You shan t go, Peggy, till you answer me." So Solo 
 mon Smith might have been overheard speaking to Mar 
 garet, whom he had penned in the chimney corner, where 
 he seemed to be urging some point, with drunken and 
 dogged pertinacity. " Let the buffleheads work out their 
 own game." 
 
 " I would not endure it a moment, if she were my sister." 
 This, Rose, who had been watching the conduct of Solomon, 
 and flushed with more than common excitement, addressed, 
 under her breath, to Chilion ; who replied, " Sol is a bad 
 fellow. He has no music in his soul, and such, I have heard, 
 are fit for any villany. He has not forgotten the wild- 
 goose chase after gold, and he wreaks his disappointment 
 on Margaret." 
 
THE HUSKING BEE. 91 
 
 " Quantinupio tentrapiorum quaggleorum, rattle bang, 
 with a slap dash ? " So Pluck rallied his friends. " It is 
 your play, Sir Deacon." 
 
 The night wore on ; they drank, sang, and gamed. 
 Animation was heated, freedom rose to boisterousness, 
 sport turned into orgies. Solomon Smith, boozy and gross, 
 dangled the red corn in Margaret s face, but she would not 
 yield to his roguery what she would have been loath to 
 confer on his better moods, the disputed kiss. Chilion 
 asked Rose to bring him a file wherewith to fix the screws 
 of his fiddle. Rose herself had drank ; she sought to 
 dissipate the gloom of her mind in the gayeties of the hour, 
 or at least to induce upon the troubled surges of her being 
 the foam-like glow of rustic hilarity. She shuddered at 
 the contact of Margaret with the taverner from No. 4, and 
 strove to fill Chilion s mind with apprehensions that blindly 
 agitated her own. The file was violently hurled across the 
 room. At the same moment, Pluck was violently thump 
 ing the table. Uproar and confusion filled the place. But 
 why multiply words when the catastrophe is even now 
 passed? Solomon Smith then and there fell, killed, 
 murdered, under the agency of passions that from innocent 
 pastime had mounted to criminal excess. Darkness and 
 shadows preceded and followed the terrible event. The 
 table with its multifarious contents was upset, and the 
 wretched victim lay bleeding under the file. Alarm, 
 bewilderment, paralysis 4f purpose and endeavor suc 
 ceeded. Let morning dawn on the scene before we 
 attempt to analyze it. 
 
92 MARGARET. 
 
 CHAPTER VII. 
 
 THE ARREST. THE PEOPLE OF LIVINGSTON DELIBERATE ON 
 THE STATE OF AFFAIRS. 
 
 BUT that morning rose in clouds and darkness on the 
 Pond, its neighborhood, and the town of Livingston. 
 Rumor of what had befallen was quickly disseminated. 
 Early in the forenoon an inquest was holden on the body of 
 young Smith, and it was declared that he came to his death 
 from violence inflicted by one or more members of the family 
 of Pluck. The uncertainty of the affair, aggravated by the 
 disordered condition of the witnesses, rendered it expedient 
 to arrest the entire household. Shortly on the Brandon 
 Road, which but a few days before Margaret and Mr. 
 Evelyn had traversed with so much serene hopefulness and 
 in the midst of such inspiring beauty, appeared the 
 Constable, Captain Tuck, armed with a warrant and 
 supported by a retinue of people, bearing sundry instru 
 ments of offence, and hastening along with mingled impre 
 cations and laments. There turned up the Delectable Way 
 a multitude large as once bore Margaret in triumphal 
 procession over the same ground, who now were in pursuit 
 of her and her friends with tempers exacerbated by the 
 rehearsal of atrocious deeds, imaginations inflamed by 
 horrific suggestions, and a purpose which nothing less than 
 her own life or that of her best friends could qualify or 
 extinguish. From the Via Dolorosa poured in numbers 
 more with swords, axes and pitchforks. The house was 
 surrounded, and the pressure upon it, if cautious and 
 
THE ARREST. 93 
 
 fearful, was yet overwhelming. Sibyl Radney, who stood 
 barring the door with her back, obliged to yield to the 
 weight of the crowd, was the only moving person to be 
 seen. Pluck and his wife, stupefied by an intoxication that 
 had probably been enhanced after the fatal event was 
 understood, Sibyl had dragged to their bed. The some 
 faithful creature had endeavored to correct the wantonness 
 and disorder of the night, and ere the people arrived she 
 had removed the fragments of the debauch that covered 
 the flpor. Over the decayed and blackened embers of the 
 fire sat Margaret and Chilion in rigid silence and haggard 
 immobility ; his face dropped into the palms of his hands, 
 she with her arms closed about her brother s neck, on which 
 her head was sunk. Hash was discovered, overpowered 
 by his fears and his potations, under the bed in the garret. 
 The Widow, foremost in execration of the family and 
 loudest in clamor for vengeance, declared Nimrod and 
 Rose had fled on horseback during the night. The Master 
 was found in a thicket near the water, whither in his own 
 frenzy and the turbulence of the hour he had betaken him 
 self, plunged to his knees in mire, and shaking with cold and 
 alarm. 
 
 Margaret and Chilion, without remonstrance or delay, 
 prepared to obey the summons of the officer, and went 
 forward a-foot. The other three were carried in a cart to 
 the Village, where they were all consigned to the Jail, 
 there to lie until the returning senses of the inebriated 
 should justify an examination. The Master was taken to 
 his bed, where, with fever superadded to his surfeit, he had 
 a prospect of remaining for some time. 
 
 Knots of curious and agitated people might have been 
 seen in all parts of the Green. The more considerable 
 inhabitants collected at the store of Deacon Penrose. Let 
 
: MARGARET. 
 
 us look in upon them. We may get an insight to the spirit 
 and manners of the time, and also a comprehension of in 
 fluences that surrounded the criminal case about to come off, 
 and had a bearing on the destiny of Margaret. 
 
 " Mysterious is the providence of God," outspoke Parson 
 Welles, the first to break the dubious and oppressive 
 silence. " Some are appointed to damnation by a just 
 indeed and irreprehensible, but incomprehensible judgment 
 of God ; some he brings to repentance unto life. Let us 
 not rebel against his most righteous sovereignty. In what 
 has now eventuated, my brethren and friends, we behold the 
 Scripture verified, that the carnal mind is emnity against 
 God. And let all of us, whose desert is the same, not be 
 high-minded, but fear; let us humble ourselves before the 
 mighty hand of God, who in this administereth a needed 
 rebuke for our manifold sins." 
 
 " Can any one tell us how this melancholy affair was 
 brought about ? " inquired Judge Morgridge after a pause. 
 
 Deacon Penrose. (i As I learn from Mr. Wilcox, who 
 was providentially present and is able to make a distinct 
 report, it was an unprovoked arid malicious attack of some 
 members of that depraved family on the unfortunate young 
 man." 
 
 JZsquire Beach. " I think I can inform your Honor 
 more explicitly, that it is probably a result of anterior and 
 long-cherished animosities on the part of the persons 
 apprehended, against the family of Mr. Smith, arising from 
 indentures in the hands of said Smith of grants and 
 covenants, on the part of said persons, yet unfulfilled and 
 for a considerable period delayed." 
 
 Deacon Hadlock. " Why do we mince the matter ? I 
 can tell you all it is owing to defect of justice ; that we 
 havn t heavier penalties, tighter execution, more wholesome 
 
THE PEOPLE IN COUNCIL. 95 
 
 laws. If these persons had only been kept under, or been 
 enough broke by the chas^ smeents they have already had, 
 they would never have gone these lengths. Truly we can 
 say, we let the wicked go unpunished. For their Sabbath- 
 breaking, their disobedience to rulers, their unbelief, their 
 blasphemies, their hardness of heart, their stiff-neckedness 
 and perverse ways, has this come upon them. And for 
 our sinful remissness has this judgment, lit upon the town." 
 
 Parson Welles. " It behoveth us in truth that we con 
 sider of our wicked declensions and great provocations 
 before God, whereby he hath reached forth to us this bitter 
 cup of shame and sorrow. And, brethren, is it not meet 
 that we appoint a Fast, touching this matter, as has been 
 the practice of our fathers in like calamitous visitations ?" 
 
 Little Girl. " Daddy wants a quart of cider-brandy. 
 
 Deacon Pemrose. " Mr. Wilcox, wait on this child, and 
 then fetch in some glasses and a measure of our best New 
 England." 
 
 Captain Tuck. " We had a heavy frost last night, the 
 air is raw and piercing this morning, and this is trying 
 business. I well remember during the War standing sentry 
 by the General s markee half the night, in the depth of 
 winter, on the solid snow, barefoot, with never a drop to 
 cheer or warm one with." 
 
 Deacon Ramsdill. " It takes two to make a quarrel, and 
 I count there must have been something hard said or done 
 on t other side." 
 
 Esq. Beach. " Our worthy Deacon would do nothing 
 that should prejudice the case or compromit the parties 
 concerned, nor interpose obstacles to the due process of 
 justice and impartial effect of the laws. His generous 
 feelings we know always tempt him to act in behalf of those 
 
96 MARGARET. 
 
 who may be called to suffer ; but he should remember that 
 law, LAW is the essence of the Deity, the genius of the 
 Bible, the guardian Angel of humanity ; and that Law 
 ever must be and ever shall be sustained." 
 
 Deacon Ramsdill. " I don t know much about law, but 
 I know something about nater. A cow won t kick when 
 she is milked unless she has either core in her dugs or 
 chopped tits, and is handled roughly ; and she always 
 knows who is a milking of her. Cap n Tuck speaks 
 about the last War. I recollect when we was in the 
 Provinces down to Arcady, where the Black Flies come 
 out thick as birds arter a thunder storm, they won t let you 
 feel the sting till arter you see the blood. I guess there 
 has been a great Black Fly about here ; andnow the blood 
 has come we begin to feel the sting." 
 
 Parson Welles. " We have convened on a serious intend- 
 ment, and Brother Ramsdill would be in the way of Scrip 
 ture to avoid foolish jesting which is not convenient, and 
 whereby the brethren may be offended." 
 
 Judge Morgridge. " Is it understood how many persons 
 are supposed to be involved in this deed ? Is it thought 
 the younger female member of the family is to be accounted 
 either principal or accessory ? I know not that in the 
 present stage of the affair I ought to make this inquiry ; 
 nor, considering my own position, whether it becomes me 
 to raise any question at all. I do it, not on my own account, 
 but for the sake of others. Pardon me, fellow-citizens, if I 
 sometimes remember that I am a man." 
 
 Deacon Hadlock. " I know of no vessel of wrath more 
 fitted for destruction than that gal. She is so hardened in 
 iniquity that any abominable conduct is to be looked for in 
 her. We have compassionated her ignorance, but it is of 
 
 A, 
 
THE PEOPLE IN COUNCIL. 97 
 
 no avail ; we have done all that could be done for her, but 
 she braces herself agin God, despises divine truth, breaks 
 the holy Sabbath." 
 
 Deacon Ramsdill. " Sows over-littered eat their own 
 pigs. Perhaps you have done too much for her, Brother 
 Hadlock. Mabby she hasn t forgot the bed you spread 
 for her when she was down here to meetin a few year ago, 
 and when she had the School this summer past." 
 
 Deacon Penrose. " Will the Parson taste a little of our 
 New England ? We call it a prime article, and think this 
 the very best we ever manufactured." 
 
 Abel Wilcox. "It has as handsome a bead as I ever 
 saw ; and we think it possesses a flavor very much like 
 West India." 
 
 Parson Welles. " Truly, in the words of Scripture, we 
 may say, Give strong drink unto him that is ready to perish, 
 and wine to those that be of heavv hearts. We need some 
 thing to make our faces shine these dark times." 
 
 Deacon Penrose. " Gentlemen, help yourselves." 
 
 Deacon Ramsdill. " Down to Arcady, when a rattle 
 snake bit one, his comrade sucked out the pizen ; if he 
 didn t, the fellow died. I think we had better try and see 
 if we can t get some of the pizen out of these poor folk, 
 instead of taking it into our own bodies. I know it s a 
 cold morning, but sap runs best arter a sharp frost, and 
 my blood, old -as it is, is enough moved without any 
 urging." 
 
 Deacon Hadlock. Dark times, indeed, Brother Penrose ; 
 we have contempt in the Church, as well as abuse in the 
 State. Things are getting worse and worse every day. 
 We are all at loose ends. Judgment follows judgment. 
 The Christian religion itself is just tottering to fall. The 
 T Jnivarsalists I heard, yesterday, had appeared a little to 
 
 VOL IT. 9 
 

 
 98 MARGARET. 
 
 the west of us, at Dunwich Equivalents ; their preacher, 
 John Murray, is drawing away people by hundreds. The 
 Socinians have broke into the fold at the Bay. But for 
 the elects sake, who should be saved ! " 
 
 Judge Morgridge. " It is an old story, Deacon, that the 
 times are deteriorating ; I have heard it ever since I was a 
 boy. The world has stood some pretty hard shocks, and it 
 seems to be able to survive a good many more. So the 
 Worthy Fuller records, more than a century ago, *I have 
 known the City of London forty years, says he ; their 
 shops did ever sing the same tune that trading was dead ; 
 and when they wanted nothing but thankfulness, this was 
 their complaint. Let us be patient, Deacon, and the 
 coming tide will lift us from the rocks. The hand that has 
 smitten will heal our wasted and torn condition." 
 
 Deacon Ramsdill. " Time is the stuff that life is made 
 of, as Poor Richard says. I think if we would spin and 
 weave it better, we should not have so much raggedness to 
 complain of; and things wouldn t be falling to pieces so." 
 
 Captain Tuck. " Raggedness and ruin ! what do gentle 
 men mean ? Have we not had a glorious War ! Are we not 
 independent! Isn t this a great country? Was there 
 ever an era like the present? and will there ever be 
 another such a one ? Isn t America the envy of all worlds, 
 and isn t it honor enough to have fought her battles even if 
 we had lost our all ? Does she not shine like the meridian 
 sun in his splendor? Our children will sigh and pine for 
 the golden period in which we now live." 
 
 Esq. Bowker, a junior practitioner, and recent settler in 
 Livingston. " I think, if I may take the liberty to express 
 my thought, that I partially agree with our friend Captain 
 Tuck. We discern indisputable signs of improvement. 
 There is an amelioration in the order of events ; there is a 
 
THE PEOPLE IN COUNCIL. 99 
 
 softening of the crude and undigested matter with which 
 the breast of the ages has been so long gorged ; Influence 
 has a vigorous but better regulated pulse, gladness and love 
 are on its countenance ; History is emerging from its cor 
 ruptions and appears in a regenerated form ; there is a 
 breaking up of corrupt Organization, and a tendency to 
 wards the Unity of Love ; the iron and mailed hand of 
 Public Opinion greets you less violently ; Prerogative is 
 disposed to relinquish some of its self-will and austerity ; 
 Literature is beginning to replenish itself from the infinity 
 of Virtue-; Religion is becoming more humanized ; and we 
 can scarcely hope to enter upon the new century that is 
 now opening to us, without leaving at the threshold much 
 trumpery and feculence, and bearing with us abundant 
 elements of a renovated condition." 
 
 Deacon Hadlock. "Alas the day, that I should come 
 to this ! Alas the day, that my old eyes should see what 
 they now see ! I stand like a man cutting the gravestones 
 for his own wife and children. I sarved under the old 
 king, I fought agin the Spanish and French and the 
 Indians; I buckled to among the first for our liberties, I 
 gave a hand through all the tug of the War, I helped build 
 up our Constitution and Laws, and now we are worse off 
 than ever. Woe is me ! A sorer pest than any before has 
 overtaken us." 
 
 Mr. Adolphus Hadlock. " What, Uncle, what, the 
 Small-pox has not broke out anew? Aristophanes, my 
 son" 
 
 Deacon Hadlock. " No, Adolphus, worse than that ; 
 worse than Throat Distemper, or Putrid Fever, or any 
 thing else. Jacobins, the Jacobins are in amongst us ; all 
 the bloodhounds of the French kennel are let loose upon 
 us, Freethinkers, Illuminatists, Free Masons, Papists." 
 
100 MARGARET. 
 
 Judge Morgridge. " Don t you remember, Deacon, 
 when the news of Braddock s Defea*t, in the year 55, was 
 brought here, what an alarm we had ? Every man, 
 woman and child, ran out of their houses to learn the news ; 
 all was despair. The country is betrayed by Govern 
 ment. < They have sold us to the French. < They ll 
 make Catholics of us all, were cries that filled the streets ; 
 and your lather, a gray -headed old man, and our good 
 minister, then a young man, spoke to the people from the 
 Meeting-house steps, and told them not to be afraid, but to 
 put their trust in God. We recovered from our reverses, 
 and have passed safely through a good many difficulties 
 since. The French indeed have done us much good, and 
 in the War we courted their alliance and were glad of their 
 aid." 
 
 Deacon Hadlock. " I know what you say, Judge I 
 never liked the French, I was always agin that contract. 
 But we never had such trying times as these ; so many 
 intarnal, as well as extarnal foes to our peace and pros 
 perity. Things never looked nigh so dark." 
 
 Mr. W/iiston, a Breakneck. " I agree with the Dea 
 con exactly ; he has put the case right on its own legs. 
 For one, I am near about done for. I havn t hardly a hair 
 left to my hide or a pewter fip in my pocket. Taxes, taxes 
 are eating us all up ; taxes upon your whole estate ; taxes 
 on all you eat and drink ; taxes paid by taxes, taxes 
 breeding taxes ; and when all is gone, then tax the body 
 and lug it off to jail." 
 
 Deacon Ramsdill. " Misery makes us unacquainted with 
 strange bedfellows, Judge." 
 
 Judge Morgridge. " You see, Deacon Hadlock, into what 
 company you fall ; Mr. Whiston is one whom I believe you 
 

 r 
 
 THE PEOPLE IX COVJNC IU 101 
 
 committed for being concerned in the late disturbances in 
 these States." 
 
 Deacon Hadlock. "Just as I say, Judge, we are too 
 lenient, we didn t put on the screws half hard enough. 
 The Insargents ought to have been hung, or banished from 
 the country, or else condemned to imprisonment for life. 
 The State was not cleansed of the plague that was upon it, 
 and the sore waxes fouler every hour." 
 
 Mr. Whiston. " Tis true I harbored the men ; tis true 
 I fell in with the movement ; and I wish to Heaven we 
 could have a rebellion I will say it here if I have to swing 
 to-morrow for it. I wish Shays could have carried the 
 matter through all the States. I helped throw off one 
 government, but I little calculated how I was going to be 
 sucked in by another. Courts, lawyers, sheriff fees, consta 
 ble fees, justice fees, imposts, stamp duties, continental bills, 
 paper tender, forced sales, have swept off every thing. The 
 grubs of the law have gnawed into us, and we are all 
 powder-post. How many actions did you try in one term, 
 Judge ? Was it less than a thousand ? " 
 
 Judge Morgridge. u Let that go, Mr. Whiston ; it is 
 past, and we will endeavor to forget it." 
 
 Mr. Whiston. "I shan t let it go, it an t past, and it 
 can t be forgotten. Can I forget the cries of Ely and Rose, 
 up there in Lenox ? Not so easy. We fought for liberty 
 in the War, and if a man hasn t liberty to own his own, 
 to use his own, to be his own, what are our liberties good 
 for? Government is Lord God Almighty, and skin-flint 
 besides* Where is my title to my estate ? Government 
 has got it. Where is my income ? Government has got 
 it. Where is the disposal of my person ? Government 
 has got it. Where is the control of my actions ? Govern 
 ment has got it. Where are my boys? Gone to fight the 
 9* 
 
102; j ,; l J i \ M$RGARET. 
 
 Government battles agin the Indians. Where are my 
 gals? Spinning out Government taxes. What is the 
 Government for? To protect me, you say; yes, as the 
 wolf did the lamb, by stripping me of all I have. We help 
 make the Government ? No. Didn t we petition to have 
 the Constitution altered, some of the courts abolished, and 
 the under officers set aside ? Were our petitions granted ? 
 They were not admitted ; Government spurned us and our 
 petitions together. Such bungling and frippery never were 
 seen. I wouldn t give a fiddlestick s end for all the 
 Constitutions in creation. They take the best of every thing, 
 and leave us only the orts and hog-wash. Times are 
 mopish and rmrly. I don t mean to be scrumptious about 
 it, Judge, but I do want to be a man, if I am a Breakneck, 
 and havn t so much eddecation as the rest." 
 
 Judge Morgridge. " It is getting warm here ; we shall 
 be called to the examination soon, and we need all calmness 
 of mind." 
 
 Mr. Whiston. " I am ready to stay and argufy the mat 
 ter out with any body. I have no notion of hushing it up 
 so." 
 
 Dr. Spoor. " More parties than one have been im 
 plicated. I think our worthy Deacon named the Free 
 Masons, a fraternity to which I deem it an honor to 
 belong." 
 
 Deacon Hadlock. " Yes, I did mention them ; they 
 are rising in France, Germany and England ; they are 
 leagued with the Jacobins on both sides of the water, and 
 threaten the destruction of all this varsal world." 
 
 Dr. Spoor. " They acknowledge the three cardinal 
 doctrines, Faith, Hope and Charity." 
 
 Deacon Hadlock. " I know it, they are as bad as the 
 Socinians ; under cover of religion they would destroy 
 
THE PEOPLE IN COUNCIL. 103 
 
 religion itself. Hasn t Tom Jefferson threatened he would 
 
 O 
 
 burn up all the Bibles in the land, if he comes in President ? 
 Isn t he the jawbone of Jacobinism in this country? 
 Havn t town meetings been called agin Jay s Treaty ? 
 Hasn t John Jay himself been burnt in eifigy? Yes, in 
 Boston he was carted through the streets, with a watermelon 
 shell on his head, carried past Governor Adams s house, 
 where they made him salute the old man, and then took 
 and burnt on the Common. Houses were broken open, 
 persons assaulted. What is all this but playing into that 
 whale s hands, Bonaparte, who means to swallow us all 
 up?" 
 
 Captain Hoag. " These things are jest so. We heard 
 in our part of the town last week, that he had taken the 
 city of London, and was burning over all England ; that 
 he had made the Pope God of the whole airth, arid that 
 they were both coming to America, were going to put us 
 all into the Inquisition, and then set fire to t." 
 
 Deacon Ramsdill. " You eat nothing if you watch the 
 cook ; I think we had better be thankful for what we have, 
 and God will give us what we want." 
 
 Mr. Pottle, from Snakehill. " I believe the Deacon made 
 a fling at thef Universalists ? " 
 
 Deacon Hadlock. "They are the Seed of the old 
 Sarpent ; they are leagued with the Devil himself; they 
 talse advantage of the natural heart to entrap us with their 
 soul-destroying doctrines ; they make a fling at the righteous 
 justice of God." 
 
 Mr. Pottle. " For one I must say, my eyes have been 
 opened ; I an t a going to be hoodwinked any longer. I 
 do not believe God is a wrathful being, I do not believe he 
 will keep us in a red-hot Hell to all Eternity for what we 
 do in this short life." 
 
104 MARGARET. 
 
 Deacon Hadlock. "O! 0! We are undone. I am 
 the man that has seen affliction." 
 
 Mr. Pottle. " I believe the Atonement is broad enough 
 to cover the whole race." 
 
 Parson Welles. " God be praised, his decrees shall 
 stand against all the lying deceit of man ! " 
 
 Esq. Weeks. " We do, indeed, seem to be quite in a 
 toss. I have said nothing hitherto, because I have had so 
 many other things to think about. There are sometimes 
 domestic and personal calamities which seem for the 
 moment to outweigh all public concerns ; and how many in 
 o ir midst ; re even now, we must believe, in deepest 
 affliction. But I cannot well let what has been here ex 
 pressed pass without at least offering a word of encourage 
 ment and hope. I agree with Mr. Whiston, that our 
 Government is not all we could desire. I did not vote, as 
 you well know, for the Constitutions either of the State or 
 the Nation. But having been adopted by a majority of the 
 people, I am willing to give them my cordial support. / 
 have confidence in the people ; and believe that they will right 
 what is wrong, and better what is bad. I concur in the 
 old maxim, that that government is best which governs 
 least, and I think the evils we deplore will be remedied in 
 
 time." 
 
 Esq. Bowker. " There is a principle of health in 
 Time itself, agreeably to which we may hope that the 
 diseased body politic will ultimately recover, the tumid 
 aspect of societv subside, noxious sentiment be thrown off, 
 and the clouded atmosphere of our public life clear away." 
 
 JEtq- Beach. " There are some gentlemen who have 
 the urbanity of the original Tempter himself; who pur 
 sue by indirection what they dare not openly propose, 
 and under the guise of flattery harbor the deadliest intent. 
 
THE PEOPLE IN COUNCIL. 105 
 
 Heavens ! has it come to this ! shall drivelling be substituted 
 for sound reason, phrenzy for dispassionate conduct ! O 
 Humanity, where is thy blush ? O Virtue, where hast 
 thou fled ? Was is not the firmness of President Wash 
 ington in resisting the overtures of the French, that saved 
 us from that gulf? Was it not the explosion of Randolph s 
 connection with Fauchet that prevented the worst of 
 calamities ? Are not French emissaries scattered through 
 the land, corrupting our citizens, and disturbing our 
 politics ? Have we not seen the Tricolored Cockade, that 
 emblem of massacre and blood, voting at our polls ? Has 
 not France twice dismissed our envoys with ignominy? 
 No Festival is so celebrated in this country as the Birth of 
 the Dauphin ; yes, we revere the birth of a Monarch more 
 than the virtues of Washington ! You cannot, gentlemen, 
 have forgotten the refined patriotism of one our Judges, 
 who recently invested the city of Providence with a regi 
 ment of soldiers, and endeavored to arrest the celebration 
 of the Anniversary of our Independence, and prevent the 
 ratification of the then ninth pillar of the Federal Constitu 
 tion, New Hampshire. The Gazettes of that clique are 
 distributed with a diligence worthy a better cause. Our 
 own mails, yes, to my shame and sorrow I repeat it, the mails 
 of this good old Federal town of Livingston are loaded 
 with their prints ; Chronicles, Auroras and Arguses, are 
 circulated in our midst, through which the great monster 
 of evil belches forth his falsehoods, seditions, blasphemies 
 and calumnies upon our population. This Anglophobism 
 is the most malignant and incurable of maladies." 
 
 Esq. Weeks. "Yes, enough of it worse than Gallopho- 
 bism. We have no dastardly refugees voting at our polls 
 no. Reams of Russell s Gazettes, Courants, Centinels, 
 Spys, are not every week brought to our village no. They 
 
/ 
 
 106 MARGARET. 
 
 are full of truth, religion, candor, sweetness yes. We 
 have no readers of Porcupine s Gazette, a writer who is an 
 avowed British subject no. The Editor of the Aurora 
 was not recently whipped in the streets no. How many 
 Black Cockades could I count in this room? But, soberly, 
 Sam Adams s threadbare coat must give place to John Han 
 cock s lace and ruffles. Our ladies must have negroes to bear 
 their trains through the streets as their mothers did. Capt. 
 Hoag here would have us kneel to his Spread Eagle and 
 Blue Ribbon, and we must barter our old-fashioned pewter 
 for Cincinnati plates, and cups and saucers. "We must import 
 mustard, muffs, tippets and Flanders lace. We must bap 
 tize all things into the mild spirit of Federalism ; we have 
 a Federal Congress, Federal Gazettes, Federal Hotels, 
 Federal Theatres, Federal Circuses, Federal Streets, Fed 
 eral Warehouses, Federal Flour, Federal Babies ; we have 
 long had a Federal Gospel no offence to our good minis 
 ter and must look for a Federal Heaven." 
 
 Esq. Beach. "I shall make no reply to matters like 
 these I know we are somewhat diverted from the objects 
 that brought us here. But one thing I would have im 
 pressed on all minds ; there are three political sects in the 
 United States. The first in number as well as in sense, 
 without umbrage to Brother Weeks, are the Federalists, 
 who believe mankind are in need of the restraints of good 
 government. The second are the Jacobins, who see in 
 every bock of acts and resolves, gibbets, pillories and jails. 
 But there is a third sect, who are less despised and yet 
 are more contemptible, the Illuminatists. These will have 
 it that government is unnecessary. They want common 
 sense to such a degree, that they do not know their want of 
 it. They are underworkers to the Jacobinical purpose of 
 power, plunder and vengeance." 
 
THE PEOPLE IN COUNCIL. 107 
 
 Abel Wilcox. " Lexis Robinson is here again with his 
 notes, sir." 
 
 Deacon Penrose. " I dare say. He is punctual to a 
 day. He holds some of the consolidated notes and Quarter 
 master General s certificates, and comes every year to dis 
 pose of them. I offered him eight and sixpence on the 
 pound ; then as they depreciated, four shillings, and at last, 
 when they were good for nothing, in pure compassion, I 
 told him I would give one and six ; but he wouldn t be 
 easy without the full face. He might have taken advan 
 tage of the funding." 
 
 Mr. Whiston. " That is what we tried to bring about, a 
 means to pay the old soldiers ; but we could not do it. 
 Poor Lex, his face half gone, his wits nigher done for, his 
 old sores still running well if the country for which he 
 fought can give him sward enough to cover his bones ! " 
 
 Deacon RamsdiU. " He that lives upon hope will die 
 fasting, as poor Richard says ; if this belongs to Lexis I 
 guess it will apply to some other folks. What is the hour, 
 Judge?" 
 
 Judge Morgridge, " I think we had better give attention 
 to the prisoners. The warrant was issued from your office, 
 Squire Beach, I believe ; shall we not adjourn there ?" 
 
 Parson Welles. God send the right." 
 
108 MARGARET. 
 
 CHAPTER VIIL 
 
 THE TRIAL. 
 
 THE magistral investigation resulted in the discharge of 
 all the family but Chilion, who was conlmitted to answer 
 before the Supreme Court a stated session of which was 
 at hand. The testimony of the witnesses was varied and 
 confused, as their observation had been uncertain and indis 
 tinct. What with the trepidation of the moment, and the 
 clouded condition in which the catastrophe found the party, 
 it took no small sagacity and patience in Esq. Beach, who 
 seemed disposed to conduct the case with entire candor, to 
 distinguish, resolve, and average the singular materials that 
 were submitted to his attention. Chilion himself would 
 make neither confession nor denial. 
 
 These points, however, were ascertained : that Solomon 
 Smith came to his death by a wound in the jugular vein ; 
 that the wound was caused by some violent blow, as, say, of 
 a file ; that Chilion was seen to throw the file, and the de 
 ceased was heard to cry out the moment the instrument 
 might have been supposed to strike him. Furthermore, 
 it was sworn that Chilion and the deceased had had differ 
 ences, and that Chilion had threatened vengeance for the 
 mischief Solomon was doing to the family at the Pond. 
 
 The deceased was buried the next day, and at his funeral 
 was exhibited every circumstance of solemn array and 
 mournful impressiveness. The body was carried to the 
 Church, where Parson Welles preached an appropriate 
 
THE TRIAL. 109 
 
 sermon, and followed to the grave by a long train of people 
 swayed by alternate and mingled grief and indignation. 
 
 On the succeeding day, Mr. Smith, the father of Solomon, 
 came to the Pond claiming the forfeiture of the conditions 
 on which Pluck held the estate, and ordered the immediate 
 removal of the family. Pluck went off with his kit on his 
 back to seek employment wherever it should offer. Hash 
 and his mother were invited to Sibyl Radney s. Of Nimrod 
 and Rose nothing had been heard. Bull followed Hash. 
 Margaret barely had time to turn her two birds and Dick, 
 the squirrel, out of doors, and gather a bundle of clothes 
 and Chilion s violin, ere Mr. Smith nailed up the house. 
 She besought her mother and Hash to take the birds and 
 squirrel, but the hurry, preoccupation and irritation of the 
 moment were too great to pamper wishes of that sort. 
 Up the Via Salutaris she saw her father and mother, 
 her brother and Sibyl filing along, drearily, with heavy 
 packs on their shoulders. Her own course had baen 
 resolved upon; she was going to Esq. Beach s to seek 
 occupation, be near Chilion, and fulfil her engagement 
 as Governess. She paused a moment, looking up and down 
 the road, and back to Mons Christi, then striking across the 
 Mowing, buried herself in the thickets of the Via Dolorosa. 
 Reaching the Village, she turned into Grove Street, and 
 went directly to the Squire s. Mrs. Beach received her at 
 the door, and asked her into the parlor. She was barely 
 seated, when the door opened, and in poured a parcel of 
 children. 
 
 " Julia, William," said Mrs. Beach, " why do you behave 
 so ? How often have I told you nqt to cqme into the 
 house with a noise ? and those other toys havn t scraped 
 their feet." 
 
 VOL. II. 
 
110 MARGARET. 
 
 "I have got a tame squirrel here, Ma," said William 
 Beach. 
 
 <f What are you doing with that dirty thing ? " exclaimed 
 Mrs. Beach. 
 
 " It s the Ma am s," said Julia Beach ; " Arthur said it 
 was." 
 
 " We found it trying to get in at the door," explained 
 Arthur Morgridge. 
 
 " She isn t your Ma am, now," denied Mrs. Beach. 
 
 " Isn t she going to live here, and teach us ? " asked 
 Julia. 
 
 " Not as we know of," replied the mother. " You take 
 away the squirrel, and run to your plays." 
 
 Dick, meanwhile, wrested himself from the hands of the 
 boys and leaped into the lap of his mistress. 
 
 " Take the creature away," reiterated Mrs. Beach. 
 
 Margaret interceded in behalf of her pet. " I shan t touch 
 it, if the Ma am wants to keep it," said Consider Gis- 
 borne. " Come, let us see if we can t get the kite up." 
 
 The children retreated with as much impetuosity as they 
 entered. 
 
 " Did you expect to bring that animal with you ? " asked 
 Mrs. Beach. 
 
 " I know not how he came," replied Margaret ; "I left 
 him at home ; " and she might have added, that delaying 
 on her steps two or three hours in the woods, the squirrel, 
 shut out of doors, and growing tired of silence and solitude, 
 concluded to follow her, a trick he had more than once in 
 his life attempted. 
 
 " What have you in that green sack ? " inquired the 
 lady. 
 
 " It is my brother Chilion s fiddle," replied Margaret ; 
 
THE TRIAL. Ill 
 
 <f I thought it would be of some comfort to him in the jail, 
 so I brought it down." 
 
 "Your brother, indeed!" rejoined Mrs. Beach. "I 
 must inform you that the Squire and myself have concluded 
 to dispense with your services. We thought it would be 
 extremely bad to have one of your family a member of 
 ours. Since the dreadful things that have happened at 
 your house, it would be unsafe to our property, and perhaps 
 to our lives, and certainly detrimental to the morals of the 
 children, to have any thing to do with you. And it would 
 be wrong not to break a promise made with those who have 
 proved themselves unworthy to keep it." 
 
 " What shall I do ? " asked Margaret, passionately. 
 
 " It is no use to practise dissimulation, Miss Hart. A 
 sorry crew of you ! I quite wonder that you should have 
 had the presumption to come at all. We were going to 
 send word that we did not want you. But your anxiety 
 for your brother, it seems, has brought you down even 
 sooner than was anticipated. If worse comes to worst, you 
 can go to the poorhouse ; you may be able to find employ 
 ment with that class of people to whom you properly be 
 long, lam not unreasonable for the time has arrived we 
 must no longer tamper with low-bred and mischief-making 
 characters." 
 
 The appearance of the lady discouraged parley and si 
 lenced protestation, and Margaret withdrew. She stood on 
 the doorsteps, with her bundle and squirrel in her arms* 
 disordered in purpose, palsied in feeling, and almost blind 
 in vision, from this unforeseen turn of affairs. The chil 
 dren, who were trying to- fly a kite on the grounds in front 
 of the house, came around her. 
 
 " Are you not going to stay ? " asked Julia Beach. 
 
 " No," replied Margaret. 
 
112 MARGARET. 
 
 "Won t the Ma am help us get up the kite ?" said Con 
 sider Gisborne. 
 
 " Yes," replied Margaret. 
 
 " The string is all in a snarl," said Arthur Morgridge. 
 Margaret, most mechanically, most mournfully, fell to get 
 ting out the knot, and then dropping her luggage, ran with 
 the string, and when the kite was fairly afloat, she handed 
 it back to the boys. 
 
 " She s crying," said Julia Beach. " She is crying ! " 
 was whispered from one to another. The kite was at once 
 abandoned, and the children huddled about their disconso- 
 Jate Mistress. 
 
 " What makes you cry ? " said Julia. 
 " I cannot tell," said Margaret ; " I have no home, no 
 friends, no place to go to." 
 
 " Never mind the kite," said Consider. " I ll carry this," 
 he added, seizing the sack containing the violin ; " I don t 
 care if she did put me on the girl s side, she is the best 
 Schoolma am I ever went to/ 
 
 "I will carry this," said Arthur, taking the clothes bun 
 dle from her hand. 
 
 " I want to have the squirrel," said Julia. 
 "Let me take hold with you, Arthur," said Mabel 
 Weeks. 
 
 " Where are you going ? " asked Margaret. 
 "I don t know," said Consider ; " we wanted to help the 
 Schoolma am." 
 
 " I am going to take the violin to my brother, who is in 
 the jail ; he loves to play on it. Perhaps you wouldn t 
 like to go there." 
 
 " Deacon Ramsdill was at our house, and said he didn t 
 believe he meant to kill Solomon Smith," said Consider. 
 
THiS TRIAL. 113 
 
 " I remember what you said when you kept the scho ol 
 that we musn t hate any body," said Arthur. 
 
 " Ma said people wasn t always wicked that was put in 
 jail," said Mabel. 
 
 Preceded by the children with their several loads, Mar 
 garet went towards the Green. Approaching the precincts 
 of the jail she found her way impeded by large numbers of 
 people, who were loitering about the spot, of all ages and 
 sexes. She was greeted with sundry exclamations of dis 
 like, and the aspect of tilings was not the most inviting. 
 Even threatening words were bestowed upon her, and some 
 went so far as to jostle her steps. She stopped while the 
 children gathered closer to her, and they all proceeded in 
 a solid body together. 
 
 " I can see the devil in her eye," said one. " The 
 whole family ought to be hung," said another. "Poor 
 Mr. Smith s heart is most broke," said Mistress Joy. 
 " I always knew Chil would come to a bad end," said 
 Mistress Hatch ; " there were spots on his back when 
 he was born, and his mother cut his finger nails be 
 fore he was a month old." " There was a looking-glass 
 broke at our house, the week before," said Mistress Tuck. 
 " I had a curious itching in my left eye," said Mistress 
 Tapley, " and our Dorothy dropped three drops of blood 
 from her nose." " There was a great noise of drums and 
 rattling of arms in the air, just before the Spanish war 
 broke out," said old Mr. Ravel. " The Saco River run 
 blood when the last war begun," said Captain Hoag ; " I 
 was down in the Province and saw it." " He beat his head 
 all to smash with a froe," said one boy. " They are the 
 most dangerous wretches that ever walked God s earth," 
 said Mr. Cutts. 
 
 Coming to the porch of the jail-house, Margaret took the 
 10* 
 
114 MARGARET. 
 
 baggage into her own hands, dismissed her guard, an 1 
 sought of Mr. Shocks admission to Chilion s cell. The 
 reply of that gentleman was brief and explicit. " Troop ! 
 gump," said he, " don t hang sogering about here, you 
 saucebox. Haven t you smelt of these premises enough ? 
 It will be your turn next. Pack and be off." She turned 
 from the door. A hundred people stood before her ; she 
 encountered the gaze of a hundred pairs of eyes, dark and 
 frowning ; Mr. Shocks, by the application of his hand to 
 her shoulder, helped her from the steps to the ground, 
 where she seemed almost to lose the power of motion. 
 < What do you ax for that are beast ? " inquired one. 
 " That s ChiPs fiddle she s got there in that bag," said Ze- 
 nas Joy. " That ll help pay for what the dum Injins owe 
 daddy," said Seth Penrose. " Come, you may as well give 
 it up." 
 
 " You shan t touch it," outspoke Judah Weeks. " I ll 
 stand here, and if any body wants to put his tricks on her, 
 he ll have to play rough and tumble with me a while first. 
 She ain t to blame for what her brother did." While he 
 was speaking, Sibyl Radney, stout as an Amazon, brawny 
 as Vulcan, elbowed herself into the midst, and seizing the 
 bundle under one arm and Margaret under the other, bore 
 her off through the crowd. Sundry boys still saw fit to 
 follow, who again closed about Sibyl when she stopped 
 with her load. " There is Deacon Ramsdill," shouted one. 
 " We ll have some fun out of him if we can t out of the In- 
 jin," cried another. 
 
 "Well, my lads," said the Deacon, limping in among 
 them with his insenescible smile, " what have we here ? 
 You must truss up a cow s tail if you don t want to be 
 switched when you re milking; if there is any mischief here 
 we must attend to it. Come, Molly, you must go with me. 
 
THE TRIAL. 115 
 
 Out of the way, children ; a cat may look upon a king ; j 
 guess you will let a squirrel look at you. There, Molly," 
 continued the Deacon, leading her across the Green into 
 the East Street, "we have got through the worst of it, and 
 we praise a bridge that carries us safe, even if it is a poor 
 one." 
 
 " I thank you, Sir, I thank you," said Margaret ; " but, 
 O, let me die, let the boys kill me." 
 
 " Dogs that bark arter a wagon," replied the Deacon, 
 " keep out of the way of the whip; I guess the boys wouldn t 
 hurt you much. The people are a good deal up, and when 
 the grain is weedy we must reap high, we must do the best 
 we can. I have seen Judge Morgridge, and he thinks you 
 will be safest at my house ; Squire Beach says he can t 
 employ you, and I think you had better go home with me. 
 The Judge says his Susan wants to see you, and it wouldn t 
 be best for you to go to his house now, because he is Judge. 
 Freelove will be glad to see you. When you was at our 
 house before, you was gone so much you didn t hardly give 
 her a taste." 
 
 " There is nothing left to me," said Margaret ; " I am 
 blank despair." 
 
 " The finer the curd the better the cheese," replied the 
 Deacon. " They are cutting you up considerably smart, 
 but it may be as well in the end. What you are going 
 through is nothing to what I saw down to Arcady, when 
 we went to bring off the French under Col. Winslow. We 
 dragged them out of their houses, tore children from their 
 mothers, wives from their husbands, and piled them helter- 
 skelter in the boats. Then we set fire to every thing that 
 would kindle ; burnt up houses, barns, crops, meeting 
 houses. They stuck to their old homes like good fellows. 
 One boy we saw running off with his mother on his back, 
 
116 MARGARET. 
 
 into the woods, and we had to bring him down with a bul 
 let before he would stop. We took off nigh eighteen thou 
 sand of them. When we weighed anchor, their homes were 
 in ashes, their woods all a-fire, and the black smoke hung 
 over the whole so funeral-like they set up such a dismal 
 yell as if the whole airth was going to a butchery yours 
 an t a feather to it, Molly." 
 
 " How could you do such things ! " exclaimed Margaret. 
 
 " O, they was Papists ai.d French. It was political, I 
 believe ; I don t know much about it. Here is our house, 
 and the fifty acres of land I got for that job. It has lain 
 powerful hard on rny conscience ; I have struggled agin it. 
 I don t know as I should ever have got the better of it, 
 if the Lord hadn t a come and forgiven me." 
 
 " Freelove," he said, as he entered his house, " I have 
 found the gal. She will pine away like a sick sheep if we 
 don t nuss and cosset her up a little." 
 
 The Deacon s, to which Margaret was not altogether a 
 stranger, was a small, one-story, brown house, having a 
 garden on one side, a grass lot on the other, and a cornfield 
 in the rear. Over the front door trailed a luxuriant wood 
 bine, now dyed by the frosts into a dark claret. What with 
 the grant of land, a small pension continued until the Rev 
 olution, the Deacon, manure his lameness, had secured a 
 comfortable livelihood for himself and wife, which was the 
 extent of his family. The usual garnish of pewter appeared 
 in one corner of the room into which Margaret was led ; in 
 the other stood a circular snap-table ; between the two hung 
 a black-framed looking-glass supported on brass knobs, 
 blazoned with miniature portraits ; underneath the glass 
 was a japanned comb-case, and a cushion bristling with pins 
 and needles. On one wall ticked a clock without a case, its 
 weights dangling to the floor. Against the opposite wall 
 
THE TRIAL. 117 
 
 was a turn-up bed ; over the fireplace were pipes suspend 
 ed by their throats, and iron candlesticks hanging by their 
 ears. There was a settle in the room, an oval-back arm-chair 
 which the Deacon occupied, while his wife, in mob-cap and 
 iron-rimmed bridge spectacles, sat knitting in a low flag- 
 bottomed chair by the chimney corner. The Deacon brought 
 from the parlor, or rather spare bedroom, a stuffed easy- 
 chair that he gave to Margaret. For dinner, Mistress 
 Ramsdill prepared tea for their sorrowful visitor, which she 
 poured from a small, bluish, gold-flowered, swan-shaped 
 china pot, into cups of similar material, and the Deacon 
 roasted her apples with his own hands, both insisting that 
 she should eat something, to which she seemed in no way 
 inclined. 
 
 " Why do you treat me so much more kindly than other 
 people?" said Margaret, resuming her seat by the fire. 
 
 " I don t know," replied the Deacon, " except it s nater. 
 By the grace of God I yielded to nater. I fought agin it 
 till I was past forty ; when what Christ says in what they 
 call his Sarmon on the Mount, and a colt, brought me to- 
 I will tell you about the colt. Mr. Stillwater, at the Crown 
 and Bowl, had one, and he wouldn t budge an inch ; and 
 they banged him, and barnacled him, and starved him, and 
 the more they did, the more he wouldn t stir, only bob, and 
 fling, and snort. He was an ear-brisk and high-necked 
 critter, out of Old Delancy. It kinder seemed to me that 
 something could be done, and they let me take the colt. I 
 kept him here in the mow lot, made considerable of him, 
 groomed him, stroked him, and at last I got him so he 
 would round and caracol, and follow me like a spoon-fed 
 lamb; he was as handy as the Judge s bayard; just like 
 your squirrel there, he is docile as a kitten. I had this na 
 ter, when I was arter the Hurons under General Webb 
 
118 
 
 MARGARET. 
 
 and it shook my firelock so when I was pulling the trigger 
 upon a sleeping redskin, I let him go. And when we were 
 in the ships coming away from Arcady, it made me give up 
 my bed to a sick French gal, about as old as you, Molly, 
 and nigh as well-favored ; yes, it made me take her up in 
 my arms, rough, soldier-like as I was, and lay her down in 
 my hammock, and she thanked me so with her eyes ; she 
 couldn t speak English " 
 
 " What became of her ? " 
 
 " She had a lover, I believe, in the other vessel, and 
 when we got to the Bay, it wasn t political to have them 
 put in one place ; he was sent away, and they put her in a 
 poorhouse, where she fell off in a decline. One of them 
 old French priests that 1 helped tear away from the blaz 
 ing altar of his church, used to come round hereabouts ped 
 dling wooden spoons, and I declare, it made the tears jump 
 in these eyes to see him, and nater got the upper hands ; 
 so I gave him lodgings a whole month. I fought agin nater, 
 I tell you, and a tough spell I had of it. I read in the 
 good book what Christ said about the blessed ones, and it 
 wan t me, and Freelove said it wan t her, It went through 
 us like a bagonet. I was struck under the conviction here 
 alone one night, when our little Jessie lay in the crib there 
 by the fire. I looked into her sweet white face as she was 
 asleep, and knew Christ would have blessed her, and that 
 she belonged to the kingdom, and it all came over me how 
 I had slided off from what I was when Iwas a boy, and that 
 I had been abusing nater all my life. When Freelove came 
 in I told her, and she said she felt just so too. I tried to 
 pray, but nater stood right up before me, and prayed louder 
 than I did, and I couldn t be heard. The arrows of the 
 Almighty stuck fast in me. We lay one night on the floor, 
 fighting, sweating, groaning. We were not quite ready to 
 
THE TRIAL. 119 
 
 give in. We tried to brace up on the notions and politicals, 
 but nater kept knocking them down. Then the colt came, 
 tl\en I saw it in old brindle, our cow, and then I saw it in 
 the sheep, then I remembered the French gal and the In 
 dian ; and at last we gave in, and it was all as plain as a pipe- 
 stern. When I went out in the morning, I saw it in the 
 hens and chickens, the calves, the bees, in the rocks, and in 
 all Creation. There is nater in every body, only if it was 
 not for their notions and politicals. The Papists, the Ne 
 groes, and the Indians have it. Like father like child. I 
 believe we all have the same nater. I have heard Freelove s 
 grandfather tell his father told him, he was cousin of 
 Captain Church, and sarved in the expedition how, when 
 they went out after the Pequods, and had killed the men, and 
 burned the women and boys and gals in their wigwams, 
 they found one woman who had covered her baby with the 
 mats and skins, and then spread herself over to keep off the 
 blazing barks and boughs ; and when they raked open the 
 brands, there was the roasted body of the woman, and un 
 der her the little innocent all alive, and it stretched up its 
 baby hands but the soldiers clubbed their firelocks " 
 
 " 0, these are dreadful stories ; I cannot bear them 
 now." 
 
 " There is nater agin, Freelove, just as we always told 
 one another. What is bred in the bone will never be out 
 of the flesh ; it is only kicking agin the pricks, wrastle 
 with it as hard as you will " 
 
 " I can never think of myself again," said Margaret ; 
 " but my poor brother and Mr. Smith s family " 
 
 "I stuttered up to No. 4 yesterday arter the funeral, but 
 they are so grown over with rum there, you can hardly tell 
 what is nater, and what is not. I read out of the Bible to 
 Mr. Smith s folk, and tried to pray with them, but they 
 
120 MARGARET. 
 
 couldn t bear it. That agin is part rum and part nater. 
 You know, Freelove, how we felt when our Jessie died, we 
 didn t want to see any one ; all their words couldn t put 
 life into her sweet dead body. I would have gone up to see 
 you at the Pond, but I can t get round as I used to before 
 I was hamstrung on the Plains of Abr am under General 
 Wolfe. It s dreadful business, this killing people, it s agin 
 nater ; I followed it up a purpose, and have killed a good 
 many in my day. Christ have marcy ! If I had my 
 desarts, I should have been hung long ago. Rum, too, is 
 dreadful business, Molly ; and I guess it had a good deal 
 to do with that matter up to your house." 
 
 The Deacon was a great talker, and in modern 
 parlance might have proved a bore, if his wife had not 
 jogged him and said, " The gal has not had any sleep for 
 three nights, and I guess she had better try and see if she 
 cant get some." The bed was lowered, and Margaret laid 
 upon it, where she was quiet, if she did not sleep, most of 
 the afternoon. In the evening, Susan Morgridge came to 
 see her. Susan s manner was calm, but her heart was 
 warm and her sentiments generous. She told Margaret 
 that nothing had been heard from Mr. Evelyn since his 
 departure for Europe, and that Isabel Weeks was still at 
 the Hospital slowly recovering from a long fever that had 
 succeeded the Small-pox. But the absorbing topic was 
 Chilion and the death of young Smith. Susan told Mar 
 garet there were some who would, do all that could be done 
 in the case, but that her father apprehended her brother 
 could not be saved from the extremest penalty of the law. 
 Margaret replied that the whole affair was to her own mind 
 enveloped in mystery, that Chilion would reveal nothing to 
 her, and that she had hardly equanimity enough to give 
 the subject any cool reflection. Finally, for this seemed 
 
THE TRIAL. 121 
 
 to be a part of her errand, Miss Morgridge proposed that 
 Margaret should see Esq. Bowker, who she said was a 
 valued friend of hers, and that he would be happy to do 
 her any service in his power in the approaching crisis, 
 and that gratuitously. 
 
 The moment the nine o clock bell spent its last note, 
 Deacon Ramsdill spread open a large book on his lap, put 
 glasses on his nose, while his wife deliberately pulled off 
 her glasses, drew out her needle from the sheath and laid 
 her knitting carefully aside. " I have got the Bible here," 
 said the Deacon, " and we want to pray that is, if you 
 can stand it. When you was here in the summer, you 
 staid out so much we couldn t bring it about. I saw you 
 once laughing at what was in the Book, and I took it away, 
 because I knew you wasn t prepared for it, and hadn t got 
 hold of the right end. Freelove and I have talked this 
 matter over ; and we know how it is with you ; we know 
 how you feel about these things up to the Pond. A hen 
 frightened from her nest is hard to get back, and you was 
 handled pretty roughly down here to meeting once. We 
 musn t give a babe strong meat, the Book says, and nater 
 says so too ; and folks that tend babies musn t have pins 
 about them. Then agin you can t wean babies in a day ; 
 it takes some time to get them from milk to meat. Pray 
 ing, arter all, isn t a hard thing ; its nater. I used to pray 
 when I was a boy, but I left it off in the Wars, and didn t 
 begin agin till nater got the upper hands once more. I 
 have seen the Indians pray up among the Hurons, and 
 they couldn t speak a word of English. It is speaking out 
 what is inside here, it is sort o* feeling up. It conies easier 
 as you go along, just as it is with the cows, the more they 
 are milked the more they give. I hope, Molly, you won t 
 feel bad about it. Tis time to reap when the grain is 
 
 VOL. II. 11 
 
122 MARGARET. 
 
 shrunk and yellow, and I think you ar nt much out of the 
 way of that ; and it seems time to pray." 
 
 " I shall not feel bad," replied Margaret ; " you are so 
 good to me, and I love Christ now, and should be glad to 
 hear any thing he says." 
 
 The Deacon read from the Gospels, then with his wife 
 knelt in prayer. Margaret, also, by some sympathetic 
 or other impulse also bowed herself down, and for the 
 I first time in her life united in a prayer to the Supreme 
 j Being ; and we cannot doubt the effect was salutary on her 
 feelings. She slept that night in the other front room, 
 where was the spare bed, with red and blue chintz curtains 
 over square testers, and a floor neatly bespread with rag 
 mats. The next morning she expressed great anxiety 
 about her brother, said she wished either to see him, or 
 have his violin conveyed to him. 
 
 " Things are a good deal stived up," answered the 
 Deacon. " People s minds are sour, and I don t know, 
 Molly, what we can do. It s nater you see, one doesn t 
 like to have a son killed. Then the politicals are all out of 
 kelter, one doesn t hardly know his own mind, and all are 
 afraid of what is in another s. I suppose they won t allow 
 you to go into the jail, they think you and your- brother 
 would brew mischief together, and perhaps he would break 
 out. The building is old and slimsy. I am going to the 
 barber s to be dressed, and I will take the fiddle along with 
 me, and see how things look. But don t you stir out of the 
 house ; I am scrupulous about what might happen. It is 
 no use reasoning with the people, any more than with a 
 horse that is running away." 
 
 The Deacon took the instrument under his surcoat, and 
 went to the barber s, where the bi-weekly operation of 
 s having and powdering was performed. "When he was 
 
THE TRIAL. 123 
 
 alone with Tony, he propounded the wish of Margaret ; to 
 which the negro replied that he would do what he could. 
 The same evening, Tony, with his own and the instrument 
 of Chilion, presented himself to Mr. Shocks. " You know," 
 said he, " that at the last ball, I couldn t play because my 
 strings were broke, and the Indian is the very best man 
 this side of York to fix them. And then this gentleman is 
 learning a new jig, and he wants the Indian to try it with 
 him." 
 
 " You can t go in," said Mr. Shooks. " We have got 
 the rascal chained, and mean to keep him down. There is 
 no trusting any body now-a-days. All the vagabonds in 
 the country will rise, and have the government into their 
 hands the next we know ! " 
 
 " If Mister Shooks would permit this gentleman to be 
 stow so much honor on him as to go into the prison, and 
 take the Indian s fiddle, he would shave Mr. Shooks and 
 powder him with the most patent new violet, crape and roll 
 Miss Runy in the most fashionable etiquette, and give her 
 an Anodyne Necklace, all for nothing, all for the honor of 
 the thing." 
 
 " You may go in once," replied Mr. Shooks, tl but don t 
 come again; and Tony," whispered the vigilant warden, 
 " see if you can t find out if the villain means to break 
 jail. I would not lose having him hung for a thousand 
 pounds." 
 
 Tony being admitted, remained a short time with Chilion, 
 left the violin, and was summoned away. 
 
 The next day Esquire Bowker called on Margaret, 
 informed her of the usages of Courts, and while he tendered 
 his professional services in behalf of her brother as Coun 
 sellor, he urged the necessity of a more complete acquaint- 
 
124 MARGARET. 
 
 ance with the case than he then possessed ; but Margaret 
 replied that on all points she was as ignorant as himself. 
 
 That night, impatient of delay, anxious to approach 
 nearer her brother, at a late hour when the streets were 
 empty, she sallied out, and crossed the Green to the Jail. 
 Presently she heard the familiar voice of Chilion s music, 
 proceeding from a low and remote corner of the building. 
 Climbing a fence, and reaching a spot as near the cell of 
 her brother as the defences of the place would permit, she 
 again listened ; then in the intervals she made sounds 
 which she thought might be heard by her brother ; but no 
 token was returned ; only she continued to hear low, sad, 
 anguished notes that pierced her heart with lively distress. 
 Dick, it^appeared, had again followed her; perhaps in the 
 midst of strangers he could abide her absence with less 
 composure than ever ; and soon she had him in her arms. 
 He too heard the sound from the prison, the familiar tones 
 of his Master; it required little urging on the part of Mar 
 garet to send him clambering over the palisade up the 
 logs of the building he went and into the cell of Chilion ; 
 presently Margaret heard a changed note, one of recog 
 nition and gladness ; soon also the creature came leaping 
 back to her shoulder. Glad would she have been to leave 
 him with her brother, but it would be unsafe for him to be 
 found there ; glad was she thus to communicate with the 
 imprisoned one at all. 
 
 A new thought struck ^ r ; hastening back to the 
 Deacon s, on a slip of paper she wrote to her brother, then 
 returning to the jail, and fastening her billet to the body 
 of Dick, she renewed her former experiment with success ; 
 she also sent in a pencil and paper for her brother. The 
 next night pursuing this device, she had the satisfaction not 
 only of transmitting solace to Chilion, but of receiving mes- 
 
THE TRIAL. 125 
 
 sages from him. This novel species of Independent Mail she 
 employed the few nights that remained before the trial. 
 On one point she could draw nothing from her brother that 
 of his relation to the homicide. She kept within doors 
 most of the day, and only ventured abroad under cover of 
 midnight ; she saw little or nothing of her own family ; and 
 heard nothing of Rose and Nimrod. 
 
 The day of the dreaded Trial came at last. A true bill 
 had been found against Chilion, and he stood arraigned 
 on the charge of murder. Margaret heard the Court-bell 
 ring, and her own heart vibrated with a more painful 
 emphasis. Leaving her at the Deacon s, we will go to the 
 Court-house. The tribunal was organized with Judge 
 Morgridge at the head of the bench. Chilion was brought 
 in, his face, never boasting great color or breadth, still paler 
 and thinner from his confinement, and darkly shaded by a 
 full head of long black hair. The right of challenge Be 
 showed no inclination to employ, and the panel was formed 
 without delay. 
 
 To the Indictment, charging, that " not having the fear 
 ,of God before his eyes, but being moved and seduced by 
 the instigation of the Devil, feloniously, wilfully, and of his 
 malice aforethought^ he did. assault, strike and stab Solomon 
 Smith, thereby inflicting a mortal wound," etc., the prisoner 
 arose and pleaded Not Guilty ; then sat down and threw his 
 head forward on the front of the Box ; a position from which 
 neither the attentions of his Counsel nor any interest of the 
 Trial could arouse him. The building was thronged with 
 curious and anxious spectators from Livingston and the 
 towns about. The examination of witnesses went on. 
 The substance of the testimony was similar to that given 
 before the Justice. It bore increasing proofs of a general 
 belief in the guilt of the prisoner ; first impressions had 
 11* 
 
126 MARGARET. 
 
 been corrected by subsequent reflection, doubts moulded 
 into conviction, and whatever was obscure rendered distinct 
 and intelligible. 
 
 The Counsel for the defence had but little to reply. 
 Sibyl Radney believed the wound was inflicted by a piece 
 of broken glass that fell with the table. This could not be. 
 Esq. Bowker had applied the cross examination ; it seemed 
 to elicit nothing. There was a question as to the intent of 
 the accused, but the more this matter was pursued the 
 darker it grew. There were plenty to testify to the utter 
 malignity of the mind of the prisoner. Was the file thrown 
 with purpose to kill, or only to injure? That made no dif 
 ference ; the Court ruling that death in either case was the 
 same in the eye of the law. In addition to causes operating 
 in the immediate neighborhood, the newspapers of the 
 country came in filled with details of a " Shocking and 
 Brutal Murder in Livingston," and in one instance, it was 
 pertinently hinted that " the present afforded another oppor 
 tunity for the exercise of Executive Clemency." Obviously 
 there was a clear conviction of the guilt of the prisoner in 
 the public mind, and the testimony before the Court went 
 far towards establishing the soundness of that feeling. 
 Night closed the scenes and nearly finished the results of 
 the trial. 
 
 After dark, Margaret, whose sensations during the day 
 can as well be imagined as described, sought a breathing 
 place in the open air ; she walked towards the Green ; but 
 the shadows of men moving quickly to and fro, and echo of 
 excited voices, drove her back. As she retreated, she was 
 stopped by the sound of her own name ; Pluck called after 
 her, evidently moved by other than his ordinary stimulus. 
 
 " It is all over with Chilion," said he, " unless we can get 
 Judge Morgridge to help us ; he can set the Jury right in 
 
THE TRIAL. 127 
 
 his charge, or do something ; you must go right up and see 
 him." 
 
 Margaret, by a cross path, sped her way to the Judge s ; 
 she met Susan at the door, to whom she stated her errand. 
 Susan sought her father in the library. " No," replied the 
 Judge, " let me not see the girl. There are points in the 
 case I do not understand, but the evidence against the 
 prisoner is overwhelming." " O, father," replied Susan, 
 " what if she were me, or her brother our Arthur ! " " Speak 
 not, my child, our duties are imperious, our private feelings 
 are borne away by a higher subserviency. The public 
 mind is much excited; God knows where it will end, or how 
 many shall be its victims." " But, if my dear, dead mother 
 were her mother, or you were his father!" "Let the girl 
 not come near me, let me not hear her voice, let not her 
 agony reach me, leave me to compose myself for the awful 
 task before me. Go out, go out, my child." 
 
 Stung by this repulse, terrified at the prospect before her, 
 Margaret passed a sleepless night, and before daybreak she 
 left the house, and directed her course towards Sibyl 
 Radney s. She had not gone far when she met people 
 thronging to the closing scenes of the trial. This diverted 
 her into the woods, and so delayed her that when she reached 
 Sibyl s all were gone from there, excepting Bull, who ran 
 fondly towards her and was caressed with tears. She went 
 down to the Widow Wright s, whose house was likewise 
 deserted ; and she continued on the Via Salutaris to her own 
 home. Here were only silence and desolation ; one of her 
 birds she found frozen to death on the door-stone. 
 
 Restless, anxious, she returned towards the Village by 
 the Via Dolorosa. She hung on the skirts of the Green 
 with an indeterminate feeling of inquisitiveness, awe, and 
 terror ; seating herself on a rock in the Pasture, a chilling 
 
128 MARGARET. 
 
 desperation of heart seized her, and with an agitating sense 
 of the extinguishment of hope her eye became riveted on 
 the Court-house. Presently she saw persons running to 
 wards that building, which was now an object of public as 
 well as individual interest. She knew the hour of final 
 decision had arrived. With a rapid step she descended 
 the West Street, turned the corner of the Crown and Bowl, 
 and soon became involved in a crowd of men who were 
 urging their way into the Court-room. 
 
 " The Judge is pulling on the Black Cap," was reported 
 from within. " Tight squeezing," said one, u but your 
 brother will soon be thankful for as much room to breathe 
 in I guess." " Won t you let me pass ? " said Margaret. 
 " We can t get in ourselves," was the reply. " The Injin s 
 dog has bit me, I m killed, I m murdered," was an alarm 
 raised in the rear. " Drub him, knock him in the head," 
 was the response ; and while the stress relaxed by numbers 
 breaking away in pursuit of Bull, who had folio wed his 
 Mistress, Margaret pressed herself into the porch ; wimble- 
 like, she pierced the stacks of men and women that filled 
 the hall. " What, are you here, Margery ? " exclaimed 
 Judah Weeks, with an undertone of surprise. " Do help 
 me if you can," was the reply. She sprang upon the back 
 of the prisoner s Box, seized with her hand the balustrade, 
 and resting her feet on the casement, was supported in her 
 position by Judah, who folded himself about her. Her 
 bonnet was torn off, her dress and hair disordered, her face 
 and eye burned with a preternatural fire. This movement, 
 done in less time than it can be told, had not the effect to 
 divert the dense and packed assemblage, who were bending 
 forward, form, eye and ear, to catch the words of the 
 sentence, then .dropping from the lips of the Judge. 
 Chilion, who was standing directly before her, with his 
 
THE TRIAL. 129 
 
 head bent down, remained unmoved by what transpired be 
 hind him. 
 
 The Judge himself seemed the first to be disturbed by 
 this vision of affection, anguish and despair that arose like 
 a suddenly evoked Phantom before his eye. He halted,, he 
 trembled, he proceeded with a stammering vioce " You 
 have violated the laws of the land, you have broken the com 
 mands of the Most High God; you have assailed the 
 person and taken the life of a fellow-being. With malice 
 aforethought, and wicked passions rife in your breast " 
 " No ! no ! " outshrieked Margaret. " He never intended 
 to kill him, he never did a wicked thing, he was always 
 good to us, my dear brother." She leaned forwards, 
 grasped her brother s head and turned his face up to full 
 view. " Look at him, there is no malice in him ; his eye 
 is gentle as a lamb s ; speak, Chilion, and let them hear 
 your voice, how sweet it is. Stop ! Judge Morgridge, 
 stop ! " "Order in Court ! " cried the Sheriff. " Down 
 with that girl ! " "It s nater, it s sheer nater ; just so when 
 I was down to Arcady," exclaimed Deacon Ramsdill, 
 leaping from his seat with a burst of feeling that carried 
 away all sense of propriety. The Judge faltered ; there 
 was confusion among the people ; but the jam was so great 
 it was impossible for any one to stir, and those in the 
 vicinity of Margaret who attempted to put into effect the 
 commands of the Sheriff were resisted by the stubborn and 
 almost reckless firmness of Judah. But Margaret throwing 
 herself forward with her arms about the neck of her brother, 
 became still, as frozen, unearthly despair can be still. 
 
 The popular feeling, only for a moment arrested, again 
 flowed towards the Judge, who, in the midst of a silence, 
 stark and deep as the grave, went on to finish his address, 
 and pronounce the final doom of the prisoner. He came 
 
130 MARGARET. 
 
 to the closing words " be carried to the place of execution, 
 and there be hung by the neck till you are dead, dead, 
 dead," when with a sudden convulsive wail, Margaret raised 
 herself aloft, extended her arms, and with a startling into 
 nation cried out, "Q God, if there be a God! Jesus 
 
 \ Christ ! Mother sanctissima ! am I on Earth or in Hell ! 
 My poor, murdered brother ! Fades the cloud-girt, star 
 
 \ flowering Universe to my eye ! I hear the screaming of 
 YHope, in wild merganser flight to the regions of endless 
 cold ! Love, on Bacchantal drum, beats the march of the 
 Ages down to eternal perdition ! Alecto, Tisiphone, 
 Furies ! Judges bear your flaming Torches ; the Beauti 
 ful One brandishes an axe ; Serpents hiss on the Green 
 Cross-tree ; the Banners of Redemption float over the woe- 
 resounding, smoke-ingulphed realms .of Tartarus ! "she 
 relapsed into incoherent ravings, and fell back in the arms 
 of Judah, wha bore Jier senseless body out through the 
 
 -gaping and awe-stricke^ crowd. 
 
MARGARET AND CHIHON. * 131 
 
 CHAPTER IX. 
 
 MARGARET AND CHILION. 
 
 MARGARET was carried to Deacon Eamsdill s, where, af 
 ter hovering a few days between extreme excitability and 
 positive sickness, she at length emerged into tolerable com 
 posure and strength. There was no precedent that for 
 bade a man under sentence of death the sight of his friends, 
 and what Margaret had so much at heart she at length at 
 tained permission to visit her brother. Her dress and 
 person were strictly searched by Miss Arunah Shocks, 
 maiden daughter of the jailor. She found her brother 
 handcuffed, and locked to the floor by a chain about his 
 ankles ; a treatment some might think unnecessarily rigid, 
 .but one to which her own conduct had contributed; since 
 a scrap of paper, discovered on the prisoner, led to these 
 additional precautions. The cell was small, dark, cold and 
 noisome. Her brother rose as she entered. She heard 
 the clanking of iron ; standing for a moment like one stupe 
 fied, she rushed forward and folded the wretched one in her 
 arms. They sat down together upon the edge of the bed. 
 " My brother ! O my brother ! poor Chilion ! " and similar 
 outbursts, was all she could say. She had many tears to 
 shed, and many sighs to dispose of, before she could speak 
 with connection or calmness. 
 
 " It is all over with me," said Chilion at length. 
 
 " I know it, I know it," said she. 
 
 " I have been making up my mind to the worst. If I 
 could only put my arms around you, Margaret, I would 
 ask no more." 
 
132 MARGARET. 
 
 " Dear, dear Chilion ! lean against me. I can hold you." 
 
 " When you was little I carried you in my arms ; and 
 how I have loved to lead you through the woods! If it 
 were not for you, Margaret, I should not care so much to 
 die. Let me feel your face." 
 
 " Tony gave me some Nuremburg salve to rub on your 
 sores ; but they took it away because they thought it was 
 poison. Would it were, and that you could kill yourself at 
 once. Your foot is dreadfully swollen." 
 
 " That is the foot I lamed when I was in the woods after 
 you, Margery ; I suffered more that night, when I thought 
 you was dead, than I have here." 
 
 " Poor, dear Chilion ! I will sit on the floor and hold 
 your feet, The chain has worn through your stocking. Let 
 me put my hand under." 
 
 " That feels easier ; but don t sit there, my pains will 
 soon be ended. If you smooth my hair a little I should be 
 glad. I have not been able to lift my hand to it, and it is 
 all touzled." 
 
 " You look deadly pale or is it the light of the room ? 
 and how thin you are ! " 
 
 " I have not been able to stir about any. I walked the 
 length of my chain till it hurt me so much." 
 
 " I will hold up the chain, and see if you cannot walk." 
 
 " No, no, Margery, I am content to sit here by the side 
 of you. It is but a little while we have together, and I 
 feel as if I had many things to say to you." 
 
 " To say to me, my dear brother ! How little have we 
 spoken to one another ! Why do you tremble so ? " 
 
 " O Margaret, Margaret ! I have loved you, so loved 
 you, as no words can tell. All my heart has been bound up 
 in you." 
 
MARGARET AND CHILION. 133 
 
 " Speak, Chilion, tell me all you feel ; you have always 
 been so silent." 
 
 " I know I have, but only because I could not talk, or 
 did not know what to say. Since I have been in prison, 
 things have labored in my mind, and I have been afraid I 
 should die without seeing you. When I have been silent 
 I have thought of you the most, and loved you the most. 
 When you came, a little baby, I loved you ; I used to feed 
 you, play with you, sleep with you ; I rocked, you to sleep 
 on my shoulder ; I loved your sweet baby breath ; I set you 
 on the grass and watched you while I spooled on the door- 
 stone for Ma ; I took you out in my boat on the Pond, and 
 got Bull for you to play with. When you grew older I led 
 you into the woods ; I made you a canoe and taught you 
 how to paddle it ; I made a sled for you to coast with in 
 the winter; I let you run about in the summer. You 
 loved to do these things, and I knew it would make you 
 strong, healthy and bold. I remember just how you looked 
 when you were small, and stood under a currant bush and 
 picked off the currants. Ma used to watch you when 
 you went through the Mowing, the grass as high as 
 your head, and your hat swimming along in it, and you 
 reached up to get the buttercups, and I have seen her cry. I 
 grew proud of you, you had better parts than I ; and when 
 the Master came to our house, he took a good deal of 
 notice of you, and said you learned so well, better than a 
 great many did. As you grew up, I followed you in my 
 mind and with my eye, every day, every hour." 
 
 " Why have you not told me of this before, Chilion ? I 
 always knew you loved me, but you never expressed your 
 feelings to me." 
 
 " It was never my nature to talk much ; I did not seem 
 to have the use of words as others did ; and I never knew 
 
 VOL. II. 12 
 
134 MARGARET. 
 
 what to say. Perhaps I took a kind of pride in seeing you 
 go on ; you went farther than I did, you had more thoughts 
 than I, and I was willing to be silent. You seemed to have 
 a mysterious soul, anagogical, the Master calls it, and all I 
 could do was to play to you. I played myself, my feelings, 
 my thoughts to you." 
 
 " So you did, Chilion, and I knew you felt a good deal." 
 
 " Almost my only comfort in this world has been you and 
 ray fiddle. Our family were once in better circumstances, 
 we have not always lived at the Pond ; but that was before 
 you were born. Pa did something wrong and lost his ear, 
 and he never has been himself since. We have followed 
 drinking, and that has ruined us. Ma has lost her courage, 
 Pa doesn t care what he does, and Hash is not what he was 
 when he was a boy. And we were all in drink that 
 dreadful night." 
 
 " Can you not now, Chilion, tell me something about 
 what happened then ? " 
 ." Solomon behaved bad to you ? " 
 
 "He only asked to kiss me." 
 
 " Was that all ? " 
 
 * He said if I wouldn t let him, he would turn us out of 
 house and home ; but I knew he was drunk, and did not 
 mind him." 
 
 " Did he do nothing more ? Rose said his manner was 
 insulting." 
 
 " Perhaps it was ; but you know I tasted some, and it 
 went into my head so, I hardly knew what was done. But 
 do tell me if you did murder him ? " 
 
 " If I tell you all I know, will you truly promise never to 
 speak of it till after I am gone ? " 
 
 " I will promise any thing ; but your manner frightens me. 
 What is coming?" 
 
MARGARET AND CHILION. 135 
 
 " Rose, Margery, you know, loves you as much as I do. 
 She is happy only with you ; and she feels for you as for 
 her own sister. That night she told me what Solomon 
 was doing, and she was very much excited about it. We 
 had both taken too much, and hardly knew what we were 
 about. I was at work on my violin with the file, and she 
 told me if I did not throw it she would " 
 
 " Then you did not do it, you will not die ! " 
 
 "Hear me, Margaret, I had murder in my heart; I 
 should have been glad at the moment to have seen Solo 
 mon shot dead. 1 know it was a wrong feeling, but I had 
 it. I have not had right feelings towards him for a long - 
 while. Rose told me how he followed you " 
 
 " I was never afraid of him ; if he was drunk I knew I 
 could get out of his way, and if he was sober he would not 
 dare to touch me." 
 
 "That may be, but Rose is very sensitive about what 
 might happen ; she seems to look upon most men as a 
 kind of devils." 
 
 "Alas! yes." 
 
 " I knew Solomon had a spite against you because he 
 could not find the gold ; and Eose told me of his saying 
 you should marry him or he would turn us out of doors. 
 He has been rough with me, he cut down some nice ash 
 trees I had marked for basket-stuff, and once he bored a 
 hole in my boat and let her fill. I have had dark feelings 
 towards him, dark as night ; and then the light would come 
 and I felt easier. I have wished him dead, and then I 
 would go to fiddling and get the better of such thoughts. 
 But that night he seemed uglier than ever, and all things 
 looked gloomy, and I did nt care what happened. I thought 
 if we were all dead it would be an end of our troubles. I 
 threw the file, and I knew no more about it." 
 
136 MARGARET. 
 
 " Then you did really mean to kill him ? " 
 
 " The law holds people answerable when they are sober 
 for what they do when they are intoxicated. Besides, the 
 Judge laid down that if death followed an act done with 
 intention to injure, it was murder as much as if there was 
 an intention to kill 
 
 " There was so much noise and hurly burly in the room, 
 I was hardly conscious of any thing. Fa I know began to 
 grow frantic, and seizing me by the arm he ran with me to 
 the barn. When I came back, they carried Solomon away, 
 and most of them were gone. What did Rose do?" 
 
 " They cried out that I had done it. One and another 
 said they could swear they saw me do it. I seemed to 
 come to my senses ; I saw how it was. I might have tried 
 to get away, but I was lame and could not run. Rose said 
 it was her act, and she would abide the consequences ; and 
 told me to take Nimrod s horse and fly. When I refused, 
 she said she would stay with me. She fell on her knees 
 and pleaded to stay, she did not wish to live, and per 
 haps my life would be saved. At last, Nimrod mounted 
 his horse, an 1 Sibyl dragging Rose from the house threw 
 her into his arms, and they rode off." 
 
 Unhappy Rose ! " 
 
 " She grew very dear to me, Margaret; I could il^ost 
 say, if it were possible for me to say such a thing, I loved 
 her. One day she told me something of what she had 
 been through. She loved to hear me play, and I knew 
 the music made her happier and better. I would die a 
 hundred deaths before a hair of her head should come to 
 harm. I have now told you all, Margaret ; I could say 
 nothing before. E.sq. Bowker questioned rne, and I dared 
 not speak, since Rose and I were so dreadfully connected in 
 the thing." 
 
MARGARET AND CHILION. 137 
 
 " Have I not loved you, Chilion.? Have I not been kind 
 to you ? Yet not so much as I ought to have been. I 
 remember once you asked me to dig you some angle 
 worms, but I went off into the woods and did not do it. 
 Can you forgive me for that ? And now you are gping to 
 die, it seems as if I had not been half so good to Pa and 
 Ma, and Hash and Bull, as I ought to have been. 0, I 
 can understand now what those people mean who say they 
 feel so wicked ! I thank you for telling me so much ; do, 
 Chilion, tell me more about yourself." 
 
 " What I think more of than any thing is you, my dear 
 sister. I seem to have had strange hopes about you. I 
 remembered the dreams you had when you was a girl, you 
 have seemed to me sometimes destined to good things. 
 There is something about you I could tell, but if you live 
 you will know all, and if you do not, well, let it go. I 
 have brought you up to music, Margaret, I have taught 
 you the notes, and as much of the art as I know. The 
 Master always insisted you should have books, though I 
 did not care much about them. There is a great deal in 
 Music. I have played myself to you when I could not 
 speak it." 
 
 " Alas ! And where shall I hear any more Music or 
 another Chilion ! " 
 
 u Let that go now. Those who can be reached by 
 nothing else are reached by Music ; at the balls and dances 
 I have seen this." 
 
 " I thought things went strange sometimes, and I could 
 not account for it." 
 
 " I could raise a storm, and then still it. It was given 
 me to perceive this power when I was quite a boy. You 
 remember the brawl at No. 4, one Thanksgiving, we cured 
 by a song. I cannot explain it, I only saw it was done." 
 12* 
 
If 8 MARGARET. 
 
 " It must be what Deacon Ramsdill calls nater. " 
 
 "There is nature in it. I have seen the Old Indian stop 
 against our door a long time when I have been playing." 
 
 " Rose was completely subdued, and at times wholly 
 transformed by your Music." 
 
 " Yes, and how we could manage Dick ; and when they 
 brought you up out of the woods, I had them all a dancing, 
 even what the Mater calls the saints danced, and the Minis 
 ters looked on and smiled." 
 
 " Is not Music what the Deacon calls praying ? lie 
 says it is feeling up. " 
 
 " Yes, it is that. I have done all my praying with my 
 { d e. I had a tune almost ready for the Lord s Prayer, 
 which I was taught a good many years ago. When you 
 talk with people their prejudices close their ears against 
 you ; when you play it seems to open their hearts at once. 
 Music goes where words cannot. And Music makes people 
 so happy, and when they are happy, they love one another. 
 Music takes aw: y the bad passions, and people are not 
 envious or quarrelsome while you play. All this I have 
 seen, and it would always be so, if it were not for the 
 drinking. If I could have got ready and played, as I was 
 going to do, I think Solomon would not have been rude to 
 you, as you say somebody tamed wild beasts and savages 
 by Music " 
 
 " Orpheus, you mean, who subdued Pluto and rescued 
 Eurydice with his lyre ? " 
 
 " There is something else, it has seemed to me that 
 Music might be a good thing for the world. I have some 
 times thought if I were not lame, and we were not so poor, 
 I would travel off and make Music. You, too, Margaret, 
 can play, you can sing songs, your voice and ear are good. 
 You know how we are at home, you know what people 
 
MARGARET AND CHILION. 139 
 
 think of us ; it has seemed to me that we might make our 
 way up among folks by Music. I have had many, many 
 thoughts about you and Music, and the world, more than I 
 can speak of. You yourself have a certain unknown connec 
 tion with Music, which I cannot tell. Then I do not mean 
 mere fiddle-strings, because when you told me about your 
 Dream of Jesus, he seemed to me like a Harp, it had the 
 same effect on me that Music does ; then in one of your 
 Dreams you said you heard invisible Music. It is not all 
 in catgut and rosin. There has been a certain something 
 in my mind, which I have not words to explain. It has 
 been coming upon me for several years. I think it is one 
 thing that has closed my mouth so. My heart and thought 
 have gone out to it very often. And now I am cut off in 
 the midst of my hopes " 
 
 " O sad condition ! most inexplicable existence ! I am 
 sunk lower than, our bottomless Pond, in doubt and fear. 
 I can now feel as Rose does what a dreadful thing life is. 
 The Fates have left us the solitary comfort of a tear! " 
 
 (t Let us, my dear sister, bear up under it as well as we 
 can. You will live if I do not ; Apollo s Lyre, as you call 
 it, I bequeath to you." 
 
 " Pitiful Fiddle I Here it lies broken-hearted like its 
 Master. When I heard you playing the other night, it 
 sounded to me as if Rose s heart had s been set in motion 
 like a wild harp. It will never, never play another tune." 
 
 I hear the bolts shoving, they are coming for you. 
 Parson Welles and Deacon Hadlock were here yesterday, 
 but I could not say much to them. I wish you would ask 
 Deacon Ramsdill to come, and the Camp-preacher. He 
 prayed so for you, when you was lost in the woods, I can 
 never forget him. I want also to have Dick stay with me, 
 if they will let him. If you see Ma, I wish you would ask 
 
140 MARGARET. 
 
 her to bring me a clean linen shirt, and my best cloths 
 those I wore to balls, I had rather come to my last in 
 them." 
 
 " O, Chilion ! O, my brother ! " 
 
 " Be quiet, Margaret, as you can. Let us hope, if our 
 sins are forgiven, we shall meet in a better world." 
 
 Margaret was obliged to leave her brother. She repre 
 sented his wishes to Deacon Ramsdill. " The Parson and 
 Brother Hadlock tell a hard story of Chilion, I know," 
 replied the Deacon. " But we should not judge too harsh. 
 Down to Arcady they said the French were savages, that 
 their crosses bewitched the people ; but they were a dread 
 ful harmless set of folk. And we must take care too, 
 Molly, what we think. The Parson has a good de il of 
 nater in him, only it is all grown over with notions and 
 politicals. You give your cows tarnips and you taste it in 
 the milk ; now he has been feeding on tarnips all his days, 
 and I count your brother don t like the smack of him. Be 
 sides, Chil is what we were saying the other day, a baby 
 in these matters, and he ought to have the very sweetest 
 and best of milk, and if you put in a little molasses it 
 wouldn t hurt him. Brother Hadlock has nater too, 
 nobody in the world would sooner do you a kindness. 
 But he runs of an idea that things are about done for, that 
 there is no use trying any more. But, if we would fetch 
 the butter we must keep the dasher a-going. Yellow-bugs 
 have been the pest of our gardens for two or three year ; 
 now I have noticed they don t trouble new burnt ground. 
 If we should get burnt over a little, perhaps we could raise 
 better squashes and cowcumbers than we do now. The 
 Preacher is more nateral, but he is as wild as a calf that 
 runs in the woods. When you wind a ball of yarn you 
 make little holes with* your thumb and finger, and as you 
 
X 
 
 MARGARET AND CHILION. 141 
 
 wind along you cover them up, and when you are done, 
 the ball has a great many of these holes, So folk get all 
 wound up with their notions and politicals and harem- 
 scarems, but they are still chock full of these little holes of 
 nater. Speaking of holes, I have seen mice make their 
 nests in rocks, and then the bees came and used these nests 
 for hives, so that, arter all, we got nice honey out of hard 
 rocks and mischievous mice. I will try to get the squirrel 
 to your brother. Down to A ready, the little gals cried as 
 if their hearts would break because we wouldn t let them 
 bring away their moppets and baby-houses ; I can t forget 
 that." 
 
 During the interval between the Trial and End, a period 
 of ten days, Margaret was allowed to visit her brother two 
 or three times. Soon as possible after the sentence, under 
 the auspices of Deacon Ramsdill, a petition was privately 
 circulated, for the pardon of the prisoner; it was sent to 
 the Governor with about half a dozen signatures, at the 
 head of which stood the name of Judge Morgridge. This 
 movement was vain. 
 
 The day preceding the last was consecrated to final in 
 terviews. The sheriff having taken up his quarters at the 
 jail-house, and a guard being kept about the premises at 
 night, it was deemed safe to knock the chains from the 
 prisoner, and allow him a more commodious and better 
 lighted apartment. He had on the dress he ordered, a 
 pearl-colored coat, buff swansdown vest, white worsted 
 breeches and stockings, all somewhat worn and faded. 
 Margaret brought a new linen stock the widow Luce made 
 for him. Tony the Barber came in to perform his last 
 office on the condemned. 
 
 " Don t know but it cuts," said the negro. " I am get 
 ting old, and my hand is unsteady." j 
 
142 MARGARET. 
 
 "You stand a chance to wash off the blood," replied 
 Chilion. 
 
 "Cold, gusty day," said Tony, "can t keep the water 
 out of these eyes. Never shaved a man going to be hung 
 the next day, since the War, and them was wicked tories. 
 Neck as fair as Mistress Margery s. Sheriff Kingsland 
 wanted to get this gentleman to play the drum to-morrow. 
 Can t degrade the profession at that rate God bless Chil 
 ion, good-by, my brother ; forgot my rose-powder. There 
 threw the towel out of the window. I am growing old 
 and forgetful." 
 
 Margaret and Chilion were left to themselves. 
 
 " Let me kiss your neck," said she. " I would put my 
 arms about it, an amulet to keep off the terrible things. 
 Hold your face to mine, let me feel it, and keep the feeling 
 as long as I live ; look into my eyes, that I may have your 
 eyes also. I want some of your hair, too. How shall I 
 get it unless I bite it off ? I had a pair of scissors in my 
 pocket, but they were taken from me." 
 
 " Tony has forgot his razor, too. It lies there on the 
 bed. You can use that." 
 
 " What a tempting edge ! " said Margaret. 
 
 " Don t hold it up to me so," rej. lied Chilion, " I shall 
 be tempted by it." 
 
 "I had a thousand times rather you would take your 
 own life than that the sheriff should do it. How easy for 
 you to slit a vein ! I would catch the blood with my own 
 lips you should expire in my arms." 
 
 "It is considered wrong to kill one s self," replied Chilion. 
 "They hold it right to kill me because I killed another." 
 
 " Right and wrong ! wrong and right ! I am all con 
 fusion, Chilion. There is no truth or nature in any thing. 
 I am losing all clearness, all sense of consistency." 
 
MARGARET AND CHILION. 143 
 
 v 
 
 " God lisive mercy on you, Margaret, and on me, too ! 
 Throw the razor out of the window ! Let us not keep it, 
 or talk about that." 
 
 " I will, Chilion. I would not trouble you." 
 
 " I wish for your sake, my dear sister, I could live longer. 
 You are all I care for. You have made our home happy. 
 But I do not know as I would stay in this town. I would 
 go elsewhere, and perhaps you will find some one to love 
 you. I would like to go up and see the Pond once before 
 I die." 
 
 " Can I leave it, Chilion, its woods, my little canoe, my 
 flowers, the dear gods, Mons Christi, that we had given to 
 the Beautiful One ? Whither in this wide wicked world 
 shall I go ? Mr. Evelyn is gone, Isabel is sick, and per 
 haps she too will die ; the master is sick, and Rose she, 
 after all, is worse off than I. Why do I complain ? And 
 Damaris Smith I know loved her brother, and he too is 
 dead ! What is this feeling in my breast ? How selfish I 
 seem to* myself. You alone are good. Ah me ! miserable 
 sinner that I am ! " 
 
 " Be composed, Margaret. There are things not quite 
 so bad in my case as in some others. Deacon Ramsdill 
 says he will have me buried in the graveyard. Don t 
 cry, Margaret, don t cry ; if you do I shall cry, and here 
 is little Dick looking up into your face as if he meant to 
 cry too. I want you to go to Mr. Smith s and ask their 
 forgiveness for me, and the little willow-basket I made to 
 hold your sewing work do you give to Damaris. My boat 
 you may sell to pay Deacon Penrose for some screws and 
 a chisel, and some red lead I got to paint your canoe with, 
 and some silk Ma had to mend this waistcoat. I have eight 
 or ten baskets ready made which he will take. My fiddle 
 I wanted you to have, but I think you had better sell it to 
 
144 MARGARET. 
 
 pay some of Pa s debts ; Tony, I guess, will give six or 
 seven dollars for it. You will find, Margaret, in the bot 
 tom of my chest, up garret, five dollars and a quarter ; it 
 is what I got several years ago for wolf-skins ; I have 
 been saving it to buy you a guitar ; but you must take it to 
 help pay for my coffin ; and I want you to go up to the 
 Ledge to Mr. Palmer s, and get a plain slab of marble to 
 put on my grave. He has always remembered you kindly, 
 and I think he will let you have it for a low price. This 
 is a good deal to ask of you, Margaret, but when I am 
 dead and gone, I don t want people to lay up little things 
 against me. Speak, Margaret, don t you feel so bad. Get 
 up from the floor. I can t raise you, but I can hold you 
 in my arms. There, there, Margaret." 
 
 " I will do any thing, all you wish ; but when it is ended, 
 I only ask to be laid under the same sod with you." 
 
 " You may live for good. God only knows. You may 
 see Mr. Evelyn again ; if you do I wish you would give 
 him a lock of my hair, and tell him as my dying words, that 
 I truly forgave all men and wished to be forgiven of all. 
 The lady s slipper that I made a box for, I want you to let 
 Susan Morgridge have for JKsq. Bowker s sake ; he is 
 going to marry her, and this is all I can do for his kindness 
 to me. On the slab I want Mr. Palmer to put CHILION, 
 simply. I should like to have it said, * Here lies one who 
 tried to love his fellow-men but that cannot be. I hear 
 Pa a-hemming. Let us be as still as we can." 
 
 There entered the cell the prisoner s father and mother, 
 and his brothers, Hash and Nimrod. Margaret receded to 
 the foot of the bed, where she sat with her face folded in. 
 her hands. The bloated frame of Pluck surged and 
 trembled ; on his bald crimson pate stood large drops of 
 sweat ; in most sober and earnest grief he embraced 
 
MARGARET AND CHILION. 145 
 
 Chilion ; with a quivering lip, and a faltering accent, he 
 said, " Farewell, mj son, farewell forever ; " and turning 
 away, wept like a child. " My Chilly ! " exclaimed the 
 mother, falling upon her son s neck, " My youngest boy 
 would God I could die for thee. My young hands wel 
 comed you in your fair babyhood, now these old arms send 
 you away to the gallows. You were beautiful for a 
 mother s eye to look upon. You have been a comfort to 
 your mother, weak and sinful as she is. I have sometimes 
 hoped for better days, but all is over now." She sunk to 
 the floor and sobbed hysterically. Hash was completely 
 choked with emotion ; he could not speak at all. "I have 
 not always been patient and kind towards you," said 
 Chilion ; " can you forgive me, my dear brother ? " " Stuff 
 it out, like a red Indian," said Nimrod. " The Hell-hacks 
 would crack to see you flinch. Your lips are white as a 
 fox s you are sick, Chilion, you can t stand, let me lay 
 you on the bed they ll have to hold you up to hang you, 
 like stuck sheep. If you should die betwixt this and to 
 morrow twelve o clock, how many mourners you would get, 
 more than you have now I feel as if the rope was round 
 my throat hem I m choking ! Ecod ! I was going to be 
 married to Rhody next Thanksgiving Chilion will not be 
 there I have been wicked I am going to try to do 
 better." Margaret broke into louder weeping, and the 
 room was pervaded with an uncontrollable and shattered 
 wail. In the midst of all appeared Rose, like a pale and 
 sudden ghost ; she ran forward to Chilion and clung 
 frantically to h m : "He shall not die, I did it, I did it, let 
 me suffer for him," she said in a wild passionate tone. 
 iNimrod was obliged to interfere ; she resolutely persisted ; 
 by force he unfastened her grasp and carried her struggling 
 out of the apartment. 
 
 VOL. II. 13 
 
146 MARGARET. 
 
 Deacon Ramsdill and the Preacher came in ; all knelt, 
 while the latter, in heartfelt earnestness and tender 
 solemnity, commended the soul of the prisoner to God and 
 the forgiveness of his grace. Smiles and good humor fled 
 the face of the Deacon, whose deep and variegated furrows 
 were flowed with tears. The few friends and acquaintances 
 of Chilion came to bid him farewell, and Margaret was 
 again left alone with her brother. These final moments of 
 the two, so tenderly attached, so mournfully separated, we 
 will not intrude upon. 
 
SHADES AND DARKNESS. 147 
 
 CHAPTER X. 
 
 THE EXECUTION. 
 
 THE morning of the Execution, like that of the Resurrec 
 tion, brought out " both small and great, a multitude which 
 no man could number." They came "from the East and 
 the West, the North and the South." They came from 
 distances of eight, twenty, and even forty miles. Hawkers 
 of ballads, a " Lion from Barbary," Obed peddling his 
 nostrums, gaming tables, offered attractions to the crowd. 
 
 At an early hour Margaret left the Deacon s, where 
 whatever might have been her inclinations she could hardly 
 have found accommodation, since the house was filled with 
 strangers from the fourth to the fourteenth shade of rela 
 tionship, including half a score of infants. Taking what 
 on the whole seemed to be the most feasible route whereby 
 to escape the annoyance of the multitude and horrors of 
 the day, she hid herself in the deep bed and under the 
 decayed foliage of Mill Brook. Slowly sauntering up the 
 stream, she found herself on the open road, and close by 
 the premises of Anthony Wharfield. " Ami too late for 
 the hanging ?" said a man, stopping to take breath. "I 
 hav nt missed of one these thirty year, and I would nt any 
 more than Sunday." " Thee had better go and see," was 
 the laconic reply of Ruth, who seeing Margaret, hastened 
 to meet her. " Aristophanes, my son ! Holdup, knave, 
 you graze the limbs of my dear daughter," was the hurried 
 language of Mr. Adolphus Hadlock. " I have been to 
 
148 MARGARET. 
 
 cousin Sukeyanna s to bring down the children. Are we 
 in time ? Socrates, your sister is slipping from the pillion. 
 I would not have you fail of this opportunity on any 
 account. Triandaphelda Ada, you will be belated. Your 
 mother, dear, is waiting for us ; she says seeing a man 
 hanged is the most interesting sight she ever beheld." " I 
 can t endure this," said Margaret. "Well, then, come 
 into the house," said the woman. " Anthony will succor 
 thee ; he is sorely troubled for thee." 
 
 Leaving Margaret at the Quaker s, let us follow up the 
 current of general attraction. The bell tolled, and the 
 condemned one was duly escorted to the meeting-house. 
 Parson Welles preached a discourse, a printed copy of 
 which, with its broad black margin and vignette represent 
 ing the gallows, now lies before us. The following passage 
 occurs, which illustrates the style of the parson s ordinary 
 pulpit exercises, and also indicates his sentiments on the 
 present occasion : 
 
 " Let the improvement be lastly to the wretched man 
 who is now before us. God says, * Whoso sheddeth man s 
 blood, by man shall his blood be shed. The just laws 
 of man and the holy law of Jehovah call aloud for the 
 destrutcion of your mortal life. Alas, miserable youth, 
 you know by sad, by woful experience, the living truth of 
 our text, that the wages of sin is death. As we have 
 shown under our third proposition, by man s disobedience 
 many were made sinners ; and under our fourth, mankind 
 are already under sentence of condemnation. But there is 
 a door of hope. As God demanded a perfect obedience of 
 the first Adam, the second fulfilled it. Jesus Christ made 
 a propitiation. He endured on the cross the vengeance 
 of a broken law ; he was punished by an insulted Divinity. 
 We can do nothing of ourselves. But take the Lord Jesus 
 
SHADES AND DARKNESS. 149 
 
 by faith ; trust to his merits, repent, O repent. Lay hold 
 of the hope set before you. This is the last day of mercy 
 to your poor soul. But if you refuse these offers of grace, 
 your departed soul must take up its lodgings in sorrow, 
 woe and misery. You must be cast into the lake that 
 burneth with fire and brimstone, where deformed devils 
 dwell, and the damned ghosts of Adam s race." 
 
 The religious ceremonies being concluded, the proces 
 sion was formed for the place of the end of Chilion a 
 sandy plain in the North part of the town. Bristling 
 bayonets, funeral music, a dismal retinue of twenty thou 
 sand people, are some of the items of the showy route. 
 
 Margaret, unable to contain herself within doors, anxious 
 if possible to find her own family, plunged again into the 
 woods. She went by an obscure and devious way towards 
 the Pond. Night was approaching ; but an untimely glare 
 of light while it quickened her senses appalled her heart. 
 Over Mons Christi rolled up dark, cold clouds, but in the 
 North-east the heavens were distinctly illuminated. She 
 saw smoke rising and occasioned tongues of flame. As 
 tounded and forlorn, as she came near her old home, a giant 
 form stood before her. It was the Indian and his grand 
 daughter. Seizing her arm, this fearful patriarch of the 
 forest silently and unresistingly led her forwards. He 
 took her by an old and familiar path up the Head. What 
 13* 
 
150 MARGARET. 
 
 had been a streak of light in the horizon, they now beheld 
 a boiling angry river of flame. The woods on the North 
 of the Village, an extensive range of old forest, were on 
 fire. The Indian, without speaking, slowly raised his arm, 
 and pointed steadily at the scene of the conflagration. 
 
 Each moment the effect increased, and the fire driven by 
 a brisk wind seemed to be making rapid progress towards 
 the Green. Sheets of sluggish smoke were pierced and 
 dispersed by the nimble flames which leaped to the tops of 
 the tallest trees, assaulted the clouds, and threw them 
 selves upon the solid ranks of the forest as in exterminating 
 battle. Beyond the fire, and up in the extreme heavens, 
 was a pitchy overshadowing blackness ; the faces of the 
 three shone in a blood-red glare ; behind them gathered 
 clouds and darkness ; below, the water, the house, the 
 Mowing, the road, were immersed in impenetrable shade. 
 Margaret gazed with a mixed expression of anguish, 
 surprise and uncertainty. The Indian stood majestically 
 erect, his mantle folded over his breast, his countenance 
 glowing with other than the fire of the woods, his pursed 
 and wrinkled features dilating and filling with some great 
 internal emotion. The girl looked quietly aud smilingly 
 on. The wind shook the tall white feather in the old man s 
 head, threw Margaret s bonnet back from her face, and 
 quivered in the long black locks of the girl. 
 
 " Daughter ! " said the Indian to Margaret, almost the 
 first words she ever heard him utter, as the flames seized 
 and crunched the gnarled top of an old dead tree, " behold 
 Pakanawket, grandson of Pometacom, great-grandson of 
 Massassoit, the last of the Wampanoags ! Ninety winters 
 have passed over him, he has stood the thunder gust and 
 the storm-shock see, the fire consumes him ! 
 
 " Daughter, hear ! The great Pometacom, called in your 
 
SHADES AND DARKNESS. 151 
 
 tongue King Philip, who rose to be the liberator of his 
 country, was hacked in pieces by your people, his head 
 exposed twenty summers in one of your towns to the 
 insults of men and the laughter of women. His wife, 
 Wootonekanuske, and his son, my father, were sold for 
 slaves. My grandmother pounded corn for the whites, she 
 bore on her breast the brand of her master ; but she 
 whispered in Pakanawket s ear the purpose of his grand- 
 sire, she charmed him with the spell of the Great Spirit. 
 My father, escaping from slavery, and my mother, perished 
 with the Neridgewoks. Swift as a deer, still as the flight 
 of an owl, I have gone from the Kennebec to the Missis 
 sippi ; I have visited our people on the Great Lakes ; I 
 have fought against French, English and Americans. 
 Pakanawket gave a belt to no tribes of the whites, he sat 
 at no council-fire but those of his own countrymen. His 
 wife was murdered by the French, his children scalped by 
 the English. His old arm grew weak, the strength of his 
 people had perished. The Snow-heron came and built his 
 lonely nest in the green Cedars of Umkiddin ; there he has 
 dwelt with the little Wootonekanuske, in your tongue 
 Dove s Eye. I have put my ear to the ground, I hear the 
 tramping of horses and noise of battle ; he whose eye never 
 sleeps is on the trail of the red man ; Wyandot, Seneca, 
 Delaware, Shaware, all have fallen. The white man 
 throws his arm about the Great Lake, he gathers into his 
 bosom the Father of Waters. The red man drags his 
 canoe across the graves of his Fathers ; the feet of his 
 children are sore with travelling in the long wilderness. 
 
 " Daughter, listen ! I saw your song-brother struggling in 
 death ; pleasant has been his viol to me, pleasant the sound 
 of his voice. My heart wept for him, memories gushed 
 forth. Where are the brothers, fathers, sons, friends of 
 
7 
 
 152 MARGARET. 
 
 Pakanawket ? Massassoit, the generous, the noble, died 
 as the caged Eagle dies. Jyanough, the fair and gentle, 
 wasted in swamps where your violence had driven him. 
 ? iantunnimoh was cast as a bear to appease the wolf you 
 Lad enraged. Mononottot Nanunteenoo, Paugus, Chocorus, 
 Logan, Hendrick, Pontiac, Thayendanaga, where are they ? 
 Burnt, beheaded, hung, tortured, enslaved, exiled ! 
 
 " Daughter, listen ! I was taught to read by a French 
 Panisee ; I have read your books, I know what you say. 
 The Bashaba, whom you call King, that lived in the East, 
 that great Pirate of the Seas, gave away to his men our 
 country. He made grants of our land, our fisheries, our 
 woods, our beasts, our gardens and our villages. You 
 have called us savages, dogs, heathens, devils, monsters ; 
 we welcomed the strange men to our shores; cold and 
 hungry, we nourished them by our firesides. When their 
 children were lost in the woods we found them, when their 
 poor people wanted corn we gave it them. They stole our 
 young men away and sold them for slaves in unknown 
 lands. They built forts upon our grounds, they offered 
 bounties for our scalps. When our children were burning, 
 they gave thanksgiving to their God. They slept in our 
 wigwams and defiled our maidens. They asked us to their 
 Council Fires, they blinded us with rum. When we 
 resisted, they declared war upon us. There is no brother 
 among the Indians ; they have turned our hearts against 
 each other. 
 
 " Daughter, look! The fire goeson, the flames are con- 
 turning their church. The Spirit of Wrath scowls above 
 heir village. I saw your elder brother asleep in the 
 voods, his pipe had kindled the leaves ; these hands heaped 
 ogether the faggots, this mouth blew up the flames. Ha ! 
 Manitou fights with Jehovah, Areouski strikes down their 
 
SHADES AND DARKNESS. 153 
 
 Holy Ghost ! See,- the steeple burns. Men shall mourn 
 to-night, children shall be houseless. But where are the 
 Pequods, the Narragansetts, the Nipmucks, the Massachu 
 setts ? Prate they of Quaboag, and Wyoming? Where 
 are the Pakonoket, Mystic, Genessee ? Between sea and 
 sea, there is not a field or a brook we can call our own. 
 Pakanawket utters his voice, no Indian answers. He 
 looks over the homes of his fathers, he sees only the faces 
 of his enemies. Wootonekanuske has no brother, no 
 country, no home. The eyes of a dove are red with 
 weeping, she looks towards the stars. Manitou calls, we 
 go to the Spirit-land. In my belt is a weight of gold, the 
 bribe that sought for Arnolds among the Indians. Let it 
 do what it was designed for, finish the last of his race. In 
 yonder woods Pometacom had sometime his home ; on 
 these waters he sailed with his little son. I have come 
 hither to die. Daughter of the Beautiful, take this Heron s 
 Wreath, wear it for Wootonekanuske s sake ; she never 
 forgets a kindness. Take this land, this hill, these woods, 
 these waters they are yours. Sometimes in your love, 
 your happiness, your power, remember the poor Indian ! " 
 
 The chief, taking his granddaughter in his arms, delib 
 erately advanced to the edge of the rock, balanced himself 
 over the abyss, and leaped off into the dark waters, where, 
 borne down by the weight of his girdle, he sank beyond 
 recovery. We are told of one being broken on a wheel, 
 who after the first blow laughed in the face of the execu 
 tioner, his nervous sensibility becoming so far extinguished 
 that subsequent inflictions created no suffering. Our moral 
 nature has its analogies in the physical ; and Margaret, 
 already stricken by the events of the day, heard the fearful 
 resolution of the Indian, and witnessed his tragic finale 
 without discomposure ; she looked coolly for a moment at 
 
154 MARGARET. 
 
 the fire, saw the tall spire of the church totter and fall, and 
 guarding carefully the feathered ornament the Indian gave 
 her, descended the hill. Entering the Via Salutaris, she 
 met Sibyl Radney. "Is that you, Molly?" said Sibyl. 
 We have hunted every where for you. Your folks^are at 
 our house ; Rose is there too. Rufus Palmer has come 
 down, and you are all going to the Ledge. There is a 
 stump, now spring. The fire took in the woods down 
 back of our house ; it went through aurt Dolphy s piece, 
 and so down to the Horse Sheds ; then the meeting-house 
 caught, and the brands blew from that to the Crown and 
 Bowl the Lord knows where it will stop. They are all 
 drunk as beasts and wild as Bedlamites." 
 
 They traversed the semi-luminous shadows of the wood 
 till they came to the junction of the Via Salutaris with 
 the west road from the village. At this point the scene 
 of devastation was frightfully distinct. The stream of 
 brightness and ruin extended more than a mile. They 
 beheld the old church, its huge oaken timbers resisting to 
 the last extremity, yet presenting a Laocoon-like spectacle 
 of serpent flames coiled about it and stinging it to death. 
 The tavern was fast sinking beneath the devouring element, 
 and the roofs of the buildings beyond were rapidly kin 
 dling. Whatever might be the interest of the scene, it 
 did not detain them long, and they made the best of their 
 way to the house of Sibyl. Here Margaret found all her 
 family, her mother the image of frozen despair, Pluck 
 trying to laugh, Nimrod trying to whistle, Hash stupidly 
 intoxicated ; she and Rose buried themselves in each oth 
 er s embrace. Presently Rufus Palmer came up from the 
 village. " There were a thousand people there," said he, 
 "but three quarters were drunk, and the rest were so 
 scared they did nt know what they were about. The 
 
SHADES AND DABKNES3. 155 
 
 prisoners in the jail ye^ ed like devils in burning hell. 
 The jail-house was on fire, and we could not get in that 
 way, and we stove in the fence, ripped out the bars, and 
 let the poor dogs out through the windows. A drunken 
 crew got hold of the stocks and threw them into the fire ; 
 then they tore up the whipping-post, pulled down the pil 
 lory, and they followed, and I left them blazing away 
 among the jail timbers. It hasn t rained for six weeks, 
 and the buildings were dry as tinder, and burnt like a heap 
 of shavings. Heaven save me from such another sight ! 
 Rose ran away from our house yesterday. Father sent 
 me down, and said I must bring her back, and mother 
 sent word for Margaret and Nimrod to come right up." 
 
 " It is beginning to rain," said Sibyl, " and you can t 
 go to-night." 
 
 The storm, which had been threatening through the day 
 and evening, broke at last ; it rained violently, and if this 
 interrupted the plans of the party, it also served to check 
 the farther progress of the fire. Regarding the origin of 
 the last, it appeared, as the Indian intimated, that Hash, 
 in the course of the afternoon, saturated with liquor, went 
 with his pipe into the woods. Relapsing into stupor, his 
 pipe fell from his mouth, and the fire was set. The Indian 
 crossing the forest from the scene of execution, supplied 
 materials for its continuance arid spread. A long autum 
 nal drought, a blasted vegetation, a thick coat of new-fallen 
 leaves, heaps of dry brush and a strong breeze bore for 
 ward the result to the final catastrophe. However the 
 action either of the Indian or of Hash shall be estimated, 
 the former was beyond the reach of inquisition ; and the 
 latter, Sibyl had the strength to rescue from personal danger, 
 and the tact to preserve from detection by consigning the 
 secret of the affair to her own breast, and that of those 
 whom she deemed trustworthy to receive it. 
 
156 MARGARET. 
 
 They fared the night at Sibyl s as they best could, and 
 the next day Rufus and Rose, Nimrod and Margaret, rode 
 to the Ledge, a distance, as we have had occasion to ob 
 serve, of six or seven miles. At Mr. Palmer s Margaret 
 and her friends were received with a liberal hospitality and 
 unaffected good will. The family remembered the service 
 she had done for them in former years, and Mistress 
 Palmer made a deliberate work of endeavoring to divert 
 her mind by sitting down, with her box of snuff open in 
 her left hand, and explaining with her right how they had 
 been able to bring the water directly into the house, and 
 how Mr. Palmer had made a new marble sink, and Rufus 
 had carved a marble stem, with a sheep s head, from the 
 mouth of which a living stream perpetually flowed. Rod 
 erick, her oldest son, had married Bethiah Weeks, joined 
 the " Dunwich Genessee Company," and gone to the 
 West, where also Alexander was about to follow. Rufus, 
 his mother declared, was a good boy, and said she believed 
 he had great parts ; in proof of which assertion, as well as 
 for the entertainment of Margaret, he was ordered to show 
 the toys he had made, consisting of sundry vases, images, 
 imitations of flowers and trees, done in marble. At the 
 same time Margaret could not avoid associating and con 
 trasting that first prosperous adventure of her childhood 
 with her present mournful condition. 
 
 In addition to any claims on their kindness which the 
 family of Mr. Palmer might have felt disposed to reim 
 burse, there existed other grounds for the friendliness of 
 the parties. Nimrod and Rhody, between whom an at 
 tachment and quasi troth-plight had for a long time sub 
 sisted, were expecting to marry ; indeed, their nuptials had 
 been assigned to the present season. In the absence of 
 his other sons, Mr. Palmer proposed to Nimrod if he 
 
SHADES AND DARKNESS. 157 
 
 would forswear his errant habits and set himself to steady 
 labor, he should have a share in his farm, and a home in 
 his house. He himself was a good deal occupied at the 
 quarry, and Rufus, he said, was always dropping the 
 plough and running after the mallet. But in the recent 
 calamity which had befallen his family, Nimrod said he 
 had given up all thoughts of marriage for the present, and 
 avowed a determination to wait at least until Spring ; in 
 addition, for reasons which did not transpire, he declared 
 that it had become unexpectedly necessary for him to go to 
 the Bay before that event, and take Margaret with him. 
 
 When Rose had Margaret alone, she recited her history 
 from the night of the Husking Bee. She said she and 
 Nimrod wandered in the woods one or two days, that they 
 at last went to Mr. Palmer s, where she was taken sick, 
 and recovered on the eve of Chilion s death, and that only 
 so far as enabled her to adopt some desperate resolution 
 for his delivery ; that she stole away from the house and 
 made all haste to town. Borne out from the prison by 
 Nimrod, she was carried to Sibyl s, where they kept her 
 till the crisis was over. 
 
 Margaret divulged Chilion s last wishes, and was solicit 
 ous for their accomplishment. In the prosecution of this 
 object, events fell out in a manner she could not have 
 anticipated. Rufus volunteered to furnish the gravestone ; 
 Mr. Palmer said he would become surety to Mr. Smith for 
 the liabilities of Pluck until Nimrod returned from his jaunt, 
 so that the family might again be gathered in their home. 
 Nimrod was despatched on the other errands. The lady s slip 
 per he carried to Miss Morgridge ; Chilion s boat was bought 
 by Sibyl Radnev, who seemed desirous to have it preserved 
 for the use of the family. What with the baskets and the 
 money in the chest, all debts were paid without disposing of 
 
 VOL. II. 14 
 
158 MARGARET. 
 
 the violin, which was retained as a keepsake. The duty at 
 Mr. Smith s Margaret found it more difficult to perform ; 
 and what they told her of the state of that family at length 
 decided her to postpone the task until time should mod 
 erate their grief, or give her sufficientstrength of spirit 
 to encounter it. 
 
 Preparations for their intended journey were now all that 
 remained to be done, and these the advancing season, not 
 less than certain concealed motives of Nimrod, admonished 
 them to accelerate. Rose could not be detached from 
 Margaret, and she too must go, at whatever rate. But for 
 this also a means was provided, the nature of which we 
 will disclose. The Widow Wright, as perhaps is well 
 known, had long cherished fond expectations of her son 
 Obed ; and not less of her business, and, we might 
 reasonably add, of Margaret. Whether she aspired to 
 riches or fame, let those answer who can best judge ; but 
 of this we are certain, she desired to experiment with her 
 commodities in a larger theatre than Livingston and its 
 neighborhood afforded ; and when she learned the plans 
 of Margaret and the wishes of Rose, she eagerly sought the 
 privilege of joining with them Obed and his horse Tim, 
 an arrangement that could not but prove satisfactory on all 
 sides, since it provided a method of conveyance for Rose 
 without additional cost. Whether any other design crept 
 into the lady s mind than to make Obed acquainted with the 
 world, and the world acquainted with her art, one would not 
 hesitate to guess, when it is related that she gave her son 
 explicit and repeated instructions to watch with all dili 
 gence and scrupulousness the movements of Margaret. 
 
 To the new object Margaret and Rose addressed them 
 selves with diligence, and we may imagine without reluc 
 tance. They had no wish to remain on the hands of the 
 
SHADES AND DARKNESS. 159 
 
 Palmers, however generous or well affectioned might be 
 the disposition of that family. They were glad to escape the 
 deep, and as it would seem ineffaceable gloom that now not 
 only shrouded the Pond but penetrated the whole town. In 
 a fresh atmosphere they could find a breathing-place for 
 their stifled hearts, and among novel scenes they might be 
 diverted from those associations that were sapping the 
 foundations of existence itself. 
 
 NOTE. We have been chided for carrying the story of Chilion to 
 so sad a termination. " Shocking ! " is the epithet applied to such 
 management and such results. There is an illusion here. Nine 
 tenths of executions are equally shocking. The mistake is this, our 
 readers look at Chilion from the Margaret side, and his home side, 
 and his own heart s side ; as if every man that is hung had not a 
 Margaret side, a home side, and his own heart side ! Chilion was 
 looked at by those concerned in effecting what befell him from the 
 world side, the law side, the Deacon Hadlock side, and the side of 
 public sentiment in general. It was utterly impossible for him to 
 escape extremest issues. This is the way men are always hung. 
 There would be no hangings if suspected individuals were to be re 
 garded in the light in which some tender-hearted persons have allowed 
 themselves to regard Chilion. Would we create a prejudice against 
 the law of capital punishment? As faithful chroniclers of character 
 and events, we do not hold ourselves responsible for every possible 
 inference that may be drawn from our narrative. We have not been 
 unjust to the times in which Chilion lived, but, as to the matter in 
 hand, have rather underdrawn than overdrawn the prevailing man 
 ners and feeling. 
 
160 MARGARET. 
 
 CHAPTER XL 
 
 MARGARET GOES TO THE BAY. 
 
 WHEN all things were ready, one cool but pleasant 
 morning in the early part of November they took their 
 final start from the Widow Wright s, Obed and Rose on 
 Tim, a thick -set animal of small stature, who in addition to 
 his load bore a pair of large panniers, stocked with the 
 Leech s simples and compounds ; Nimrod with Margaret, 
 on a horse of his own, and one in the estimation of his 
 master, who piqued himself on being a judge of such 
 things, of admirable proportions and other desirable 
 qualities. Margaret passed her old home, now deserted 
 and dead, with some sensation. She descended the De 
 lectable Way and the Brandon Road with quite a com 
 plexity of emotions, and came to the Burial Ground, where 
 they stopped to shed a silent tear on Chilion s grave. 
 Halting at the Widow Small s to inquire after the Master, 
 that gentleman himself appeared at the door in a loose 
 gown and skull cap, and wearing a look of seated sickness 
 and sorrow. He seemed quite overcome at seeing Mar 
 garet. " Vale, vale, eternumque vale, O mihi me disci- 
 pula carior ! " was all he could say, and covering his eyes 
 with his red bandanna handkerchief, withdrew. 
 
 The Green presented a melancholy aspect, the entire 
 West side was in ruins ; the church lay smouldering in its 
 own ashes ; what had been a beautiful grove, sweeping 
 down the acclivities on the North, was now a waste of half- 
 devoured trees, charred stumps, roots unearthed, lean and 
 
MARGARET GOES TO THE BAT. 161 
 
 hollow, a soil of sackcloth gray, as if a black winter had 
 suddenly set in. They entered the East Street, and made 
 their last call at Deacon RamsdilFs. The old man gave 
 Margaret a letter, superscribed " Mrs. Pamela Wiswall." 
 " It s for sister Pamela," said he ; "I thought it might do 
 you some good. She is a good-hearted critter as ever 
 lived, if she is my sister. I don t know where she is now ; 
 I havn t been to the Bay since the War, and things have 
 altered some since then, I suppose. She used to keep 
 lodgings next door to Deacon bmiley s auction room, a 
 little over against the Three Doves, and would be glad to 
 have you put up there. There are people enough there 
 that know her, ask for the Widow Wizzle, and any body 
 will tell you where she lives. I can t blame you for want 
 ing to get away. When our Jessie died we thought we 
 should have to pull up stakes. Freelove could nt bear to 
 make the bed up where she died, and I had to do it. I 
 guess she didn t go into the room full a month. I had to 
 put off Jessie s sheep ; she had a cosset that used to follow 
 her. Freelove couldn t bear the sight of it. We are all 
 down, on the Green. People don t know what to do. But 
 old sward wants turning under once in a while, and if land 
 lies fallow a year or so it don t hurt. The Lord knows 
 what is best for us. We had preaching in the Town Hall 
 last Lord s Day, and I guess there wasn t a dry eye there. 
 Good-by, Molly, God bless you all." 
 
 They continued on the East Street, crossed the river, and 
 entered the region beyond. The sun which has shone 
 upon all ages and countries alike, and dispenses its equal 
 ministrations of life, hope and joy to every suffering heart 
 on this many-peopled globe, shone brightly upon them ; the 
 atmosphere was clear, fresh and invigorating ; the scream 
 of the redhammer, the brown herbage, the denuded forest, 
 14* 
 
162 MARGARET. 
 
 harmonized with their feelings. Margaret had never been 
 beyond the river before. Looking back she beheld v\ hat 
 had formerly been esteemed a beautiful prospect, the vil 
 lage, its environs, the rising grounds beyond, and, crown 
 ing dll, the Indian s Head ; but it suggested at the present 
 moment other feelings than those of gratification and 
 delight, and she was not sorry to find herself rapidly 
 receding from Livingston. 
 
 Touching the objects of this sudden excursion Margaret 
 and Rose were alike ignorant and indifferent ; and they 
 went on only anxious to be a-going. Margaret had been 
 able to procure suitable clothing ; she wore a black beaver 
 hat and dress of cambleteen. In her hair was fastened 
 the Indian s gift, an aigrette of white heron s feathers. 
 Rose had on her blue silk bonnet and a queens-stuff habit 
 of the same color. In Nimrod appeared the transition 
 from the old style to the new. He wore a round-rimmed 
 hat, straight-bodied coat with large pewter buttons, and a 
 pair of overalls buttoning from the hip to the ankle. He 
 was more dressed than usual, and the caparrson of his 
 horse corresponded with, the elegance of that animal ; cir 
 cumstances denoting rather the weakness of Nirarod than 
 any pecuniary ability. Obed bore up the olden time, and 
 showed his respect for the memory of his father and the 
 purse of his mother, in his tattered cocked hat, broad 
 flapped drab coat, leather breeches and silver buckles. His 
 red hair was powdered and queued, and on his nose were 
 his brass-bowed bridge spectacles. 
 
 The habits of Tim, who resented all approach of stran 
 gers, might have interrupted the sociability of the company, 
 or even proved hazardous to life or limb, unless Nimrod 
 had suggested to Obed a method of prevention, which the 
 latter executed by cutting squares from the sides of his hat, 
 
MARGARET GOES TO THE BAT. 163 
 
 and fastening them for blinders to the head-stall ; a step 
 the frugal youth had been slow to undertake, save that his 
 mother promised him a new hat on conditions of fidelity and 
 success in this expedition. This movement served another 
 end, that Nimrod had not overlooked ; it startled the gloom 
 of Margaret and Rose, whose smiles having long been 
 worried by the contrast of the parties, their horses and 
 accoutrements, were at length provoked to open laughter, 
 in which neither the finesse of Nimrod nor the habitual 
 dignity of Obed allowed those gentlemen to join. Mar 
 garet sometime in the course of her life had said she could 
 manage Tim as well as his master. To test this, Nimrod 
 proposed that she should touch the animal. She called 
 his name familiarly, as she must have often done before, 
 and he suffered her to lay hands upon him and stroke his 
 sides, with the docility of a cat. But whenever Nimrod 
 approached, the ears of the beast fell, his heels rose, and 
 the bold man was glad to retreat. 
 
 Sometimes the girls walked long distances. Again Nira- 
 rod, who knew the whole region by heart, led them by paths 
 that afforded the best views of the country and the towns. 
 So in various ways, with a generous if not the most discreet 
 attention, he contrived to relieve the monotony of the ride 
 and move their spirits, which he said were binding, and the 
 renovation of which he declared was one purpose of the 
 journey. It was not difficult to observe that in all this Nim~ 
 rod consulted what was due to his own state of feeling also, 
 and the girls were sometimes obliged to recall him from 
 reveries into which the scenes of the last month might have 
 plunged one even more light-minded than himself. 
 
 As regards the region they traversed, in some of its as 
 pects, if any one is curious to compare former times with 
 the present, he might be guided in his inquiries by a passage 
 
164 MARGARET. 
 
 from the letters of Wilson, the ornithologist, who was over 
 the same ground a short time afterwards. " Every where," 
 says he, " 1 found school-houses ruinous and deserted ; the 
 taverns dirty, and filled with loungers brawling about poli 
 tics and lawsuits ; the people idle and lazy." 
 
 They arrived at Hartford that evening, where Nimrod 
 declared he had business of express nature, and Obed was 
 desirous of finding a market. They left the next morning, 
 Obed in fine humor since he had been able to turn some 
 of his goods for a new hat. On the afternoon of the fourth 
 day, having accomplished a journey w r hich can now be 
 made in almost as many hours, they arrived in the suburbs 
 of Boston, at a place then, and we believe now, known as 
 Old Cambridge. Here, if they had not intended to stop, 
 their course must have been arrested by a great swell of 
 people, whom some high excitement had drawn together. 
 
 " Ho, Nim," cried a burly fellow in a tarpawling and 
 blue jacket, evidently recognizing an old acquaintance. 
 " Heave to, discharge your deck load, and make sail in com 
 pany. We are going to have a pull-all-together up here." 
 
 " How fares ye, Hart ? " said another. " You liked to 
 be late at the feast. Always expect you when any thing is 
 going on. Didn t see you at Plimbury Roads. Turn the 
 ladies in, warm your nose with Porter s flip-dog, and come. 
 Great stakes. Old Hyflyer himself, out of Antelope; 
 grandam, Earl of Godolphin s Arabian." 
 
 " Well," said Nimrod, u if you have got any thing here 
 equal to Tartar, nephew to the late Hyder Ali, arid first 
 cousin to Tippoo Saib, I should like to be notified, that s 
 all." 
 
 " My old fellow," said one, addressing Obed, " don t you 
 want to see the fun ? Four horses, one greased pole to 
 
JOURNEY TO BOSTON. 165 
 
 climb, two sheared pigs to catch, and a silver punch bowl 
 the prize. It will do your old heart good to see it." 
 
 Nimrod, subject to a vacillation of spirit and passion for 
 novelty that had both checkered and vitiated his life, might 
 without surprise to the girls have been tempted by these 
 several baits, and gone off with the crowd, even if he had 
 anticipated nothing of the sort and had not had these very 
 objects in mind when he left home. However this might 
 be, he kept his own counsels, told the girls he should soon 
 be back, threw his purse to Margaret, intimating there 
 were pickpockets among the people, had them shown to 
 the parlor of the inn, and rode off. Obed also, whose 
 ardor was inspired by the prospect of trade, soon followed. 
 
 Margaret and Rose, left to themselves, occupied the hour 
 looking from the windows on the world about them. They 
 went into the street, walked through the college grounds, 
 and gazed at the buildings and the students. The day was 
 nearly spent, people returned from the races, the tavern rang 
 with their noise aud revels. But Nimrod and Obed did not 
 appear. The girls grew alarmed ; they heard reports 
 from the race, including intimations of brawls and consta 
 bles. Pushing their inquiries, they learned that two stran 
 gers had fallen in a drunken dispute, done some mischief, 
 and been carried to prison. They waited a while till there 
 could be no doubt the delinquents were Nimrod and Obed. 
 
 It seemed best, on the whole, to seek out the sister of 
 Deacon Ramsdill and throw themselves on a so well com 
 mended kindness and direction in this perplexed aspect of 
 things ; so they started at once for the city. A three miles* 
 walk lay before them, but the habits of Margaret and 
 spirit of Rose were equal to it. Night overtook them ere 
 they reached the bridge. The few forlorn lamps that 
 hovered over that structure looked like an array of 
 
166 MARGARET. 
 
 protecting or defying stars, according as their moods 
 should work. The dim outline of the State House they 
 mistook for a mountain. As they hurried on a voice 
 hailed them, " Toll, Ma ams, toll." They avowed their 
 ignorance, and asked how much. " Tuppence, tuppence 
 a head." While Rose was satisfying this voice, which like 
 death seizes upon all, Margaret asked, "Where are we 
 now ? " " At Pest House Pint," replied the man ; rather 
 shuddering intelligence. Margaret asked, "Where does 
 the Widow Wizzle live ? " "I don t know, but you can 
 find out up the way," rejoined the man. They pursued 
 their course along Cambridge Street, through what was 
 little better than a morass, and scantily furnished with 
 lamps that shone like fireflies, in a swamp. " Can you tell 
 us where the Widow Wizzle lives ? " said they, applying to 
 an old man whom they next encountered. " Go by 
 Lynde s Paster, down Queen s, turn Marlbro, then follow 
 your nose till you come to it," he answered, and disap 
 peared down a cellar. 
 
 They might reasonably be expected to be bewildered. 
 They had anticipated finding the house of the lady in 
 question without difficulty. Their hearts almost sunk. At 
 last they stopped by a lamp-post, planting themselves 
 against it, as if to make a desperate sortie on the next 
 passer-by, which chanced to be a young man. " Can you 
 tell us, sir, where the Widow Wizzle lives ? " said they, 
 the light dropping full in their faces, and revealing counte^ 
 nances flushed with earnestness. " I am going partly in 
 that direction," replied the man, " and if you will follow 
 me, I think I can set you on the right track." They went 
 on some distance, by one or two turns, and through two or 
 three lanes, when stopping at a dark corner their guide, 
 saying that business drew him in another quarter, pointed 
 
BOSTON. 167 
 
 out the course they should pursue. They were overtaken 
 by another man, who, perceiving what they wanted, ob 
 served that his own route lay that way, and he would lead 
 them to the dwelling in question. Thankfully they pressed 
 forwards till they came to a large house, with a deep front 
 yard and an ornamented fence, and pleasantly lighted. 
 "This," said their escort, "is Mrs. Wiswall s;" and, 
 opening the gate, he departed. By a paved walk, adorned 
 with shrubbery and two or three terraces ascended by stone 
 steps, they reached the door, where they met an elderly, 
 motherly-looking woman, who, as soon as the girls an 
 nounced themselves and delivered the letter, greeted them 
 very cordially. 
 
 When they were seated in the parlor and Mrs. Wiswall 
 had read the letter, she said, " It is melancholy indeed. 
 The newspapers gave us some account of what had 
 happened in Livingston, but I had no idea it was so bad. 
 Brother Simeon seems greatly distressed. And you were 
 in it all, and part of it ! How dismal is your situation ! 
 I will do what I can to make you comfortable and happy. 
 You must feel at home with me." 
 
 A bright fire and good cup of tea, with a soft bed and 
 sound sleep, carried our weary ones through the night into 
 the next morning, renovated in body and calmed in feeling. 
 
 To their first solicitude as to what had become of Nimrod 
 and Obed, their kind hostess replied, telling them not to be 
 troubled, and that she would despatch a servant to make 
 instant and all needful inquiry. 
 
 They were introduced to two young ladies, Bertha, 
 daughter of Mrs. Wiswall, and Avice, a boarder, who 
 appeared amiable and intelligent. 
 
 They had leisure to look about them, nor were there 
 wanting objects to engage attention. The parlor offered to 
 
168 MARGARET. 
 
 their eye an aspect of splendor and elaborate embellishment, 
 as it might to some of our readers that of antiquity and an 
 obsolete taste. Wainscotted walls bore fading vestiges of 
 that passion for royalty and blood possessed by some of our 
 ancestors, and the tarnished gilt of a lion s head was in 
 good keeping with his broken tail. Fluted pilasters 
 sustained on burnished capitals a heavy frieze, in which 
 deer sported among flowers. The ceiling was divided by 
 whisks of flowers, with a margin of honeysuckles. On 
 either side of the chimney stood marble columns once the 
 trunk of busts, now surmounted by vases of living herbage. 
 Faded French curtains festooned the windows. There 
 were Dutch chairs in the room, with tall backs and black 
 leather cushions, embroidered in red and blue tent-stitch, 
 and a dark oval mahogany table, with raised and chased 
 rim, loaded with books. In a back parlor, entered by 
 a broad arch, they saw a tessellated floor, and through 
 the windows appeared an extensive garden, with a decay 
 ing barn, an old Turkish summer-house, and vines trained 
 on high walls. 
 
 " Where are the Three Doves ? " inquired Margaret. 
 " That is gone long ago," replied Mrs. Wiswall. " New 
 houses occupy its place. Boston is becoming a great city ; 
 nothing old remains long. We have more than twenty 
 thousand inhabitants. Bertha, Avice, show Margaret and 
 Rose your books. They both call me mother, and you 
 shall too ; that is, if you are the good girls Simeon says 
 you are." " There are the Adventures of Neoptolemus, 
 The Fatal Connexion, and Lord Ainsworth," said Bertha. 
 "You have read The Girl of Spirit?" "No," replied 
 Margaret. " The Fair Maid of the Inn ? " " No." " I 
 think she would like the Marriage of Belfegar," observed 
 Avice, " and the Curious Impertinent." " The Loves of 
 
BOSTON. 169 
 
 Osmund and Duraxa are perfectly bewitching," rejoined 
 Bertha. There were books enough, at all events, to serve 
 them either in the way of selection or perusal for a long 
 while. 
 
 For several days Mrs. Wiswall said she could gather no 
 intelligence of their friends, and our pilgrims resigned 
 themselves as well as they could to their lot. They spent 
 most of the time alone together, and for the most part in 
 their own chamber. Two or three gentlemen boarding 
 there appeared at the dinner table, but they liked their 
 own society better than any other, and this preference was 
 not molested. They watched the street and beheld ladies in 
 black beaver and purple tiffany dresses, and melon-shaped 
 cupola-crowned hats, short cloaks with hoods squabbing be 
 hind, known as cardinals ; pink satin, and yellow brocade 
 shoes, supported on clogs and pattens ; gentlemen in Suwar- 
 row boots and scarlet overcoats ; and altogether Boston 
 seemed to them a gay place, and they thought everybody in 
 it was happy. 
 
 " You must try and amuse your sisters," said Mrs. 
 Wiswall to her daughters. " Avice, Bertha, you can show 
 them what there is in the city, the Museum, the Circus, or 
 something of the kind." 
 
 They were taken to the Museum at the head of the 
 Mall, near the Almshouse, over a cabinet shop, inthe centre 
 of what is Park Street Church. They saw young ladies in 
 wax, the guillotine, the assassination of Marat, alligators, &c., 
 and were regaled with the musical clocks. Their next 
 excursion was to the Circus in West Boston ; the singular 
 docility of the horses, the extraordinary feats of the men, 
 the grotesque wit and manners of the clown, afforded them 
 occasion for wonder and a smile. Margaret wrote to Dea 
 con Ramsdill she was more happy than she could have 
 
 TOL. II. 15 
 
170 MARGARET. 
 
 foreseen, and applauded the benevolent conduct of his 
 sister. 
 
 " I guess you must go to the Theatre to-night," said Mrs. 
 Wiswall. "I don t know of what party you are. We 
 have a Federal house and an anti-Federal." " We are of 
 no party at all," said Rose. " It is all one to us." " It is 
 just so with me," said the lady. u How does brother Sim 
 eon stand now ? " " He thinks there is some good on both 
 sides," replied Margaret. " He does not approve the ex 
 cesses of either." " That s Sim all over," responded Mrs. 
 Wiswall. " But at the Federal they have what is it, 
 girls ? " " Pizarro," replied Bertha. " The Haymarket 
 brings out The Castle of Almunecar." " Yes," added the 
 lady, " the dungeons, and strange noises and sights." " I 
 would rather see Pizarro," said Margaret. " I prefer the 
 Black Castle," said Rose. " That is it," said Mrs. Wis 
 wall. " Both be suited, one go to one, the other to the 
 other." " We cannot be separated, Mrs. Wiswall," replied 
 Margaret. " I want to go where Rose does." 
 
 To the Haymarket they went, near the south end of the 
 Mall, and were shown to a box not very remote from the 
 stage. The piece that had been the subject of discussion, 
 sombre in its scenes, terrific in its imagery, the storm at 
 sea, the wreck, grim towers, dark chambers, apparitions, 
 hollow voices, Rose declared suited her exactly. "It is 
 myself," she said to Margaret. " But I suppose you see a 
 smooth haven, and the light of true life coming of it all." 
 " It has all been in me," replied Margaret, " only if it is 
 not of me, I shall be glad." But surprise combined with 
 other reflections when they beheld their hostess s daughter, 
 Bertha, moving amid the terrors of the play. And in the 
 pantomine that composed the afterpiece, they again saw 
 her as Joan, and Avice as Columbine, along with Harle- 
 
AT THE THEATRE. 171 
 
 quin and Punch, and they thought they detected the fea 
 tures of one of the gentleman boarders under the cap of 
 Scaramouch. But the delight mingled with a variety of 
 sensations this piece afforded Margaret was such she forgot 
 every thing else while she saw represented the parts, char 
 acters, buffooneries, dresses and forms, that constituted a 
 lively part of her father s drunken vagaries, and had dis 
 closed to her eye the origin of a certain description of allu 
 sion and sentiment that predominated in Master Elliman, 
 and which she never before understood. 
 
 They spoke to Mrs. Wiswall of seeing her daughter on 
 the stage. " I suppose you think it very bad," she replied. 
 " O, no," said Rose, " I only wished I was there, and that I 
 could plunge into the darkness with her." "My good 
 brother the Deacon would probably be opposed to it." " I 
 never heard him speak of it," replied Margaret, " nor 
 did any one ever say any thing to me on the subject." 
 " Bertha," continued the lady, " took a passion for the 
 stage, and I humored her in it. There is little that she 
 can do, poor child; and she seems pleased with this. 
 Some of our gentlemen are interested there, and they help 
 her what they can. Avice plays with them sometimes." 
 " How I wish I could join them," said Rose. " Should 
 you like to?" asked the lady. "Yes, better than any 
 thing else." " Bertha, here, Miss Elphiston says she 
 should like to have a part in the play. I am sure I would 
 not oppose the young lady s feelings." " We want some 
 one for Lady-in-waiting to Lady Teazle, in the School for 
 Scandal ; it is to be brought on next week," replied 
 Bertha. " I don t care what it is," said Rose ; " though 
 I should prefer the Black Castle." " That is to be repeated 
 in a fortnight, and perhaps they will give you a chance in 
 it," rejoined Bertha. 
 
172 MARGARET. 
 
 Sunday came ; Margaret and Rose were listening to the 
 chime of bells, and watching the passers-by. " I am a deal 
 troubled with the gout," said Mrs. Wiswall, " and don t get 
 out to meeting very often. The girls were so late at 
 the rehearsal, they are not up yet. I suppose you keep 
 up the good old way in the country, and are always at 
 Church, and would miss it if you did not go ? " 
 
 " I never went to meeting but once in my life," said 
 Margaret. 
 
 " Indeed ! " rejoined their hostess. " Can it be possible? 
 Does Simeon allow of such a thing ? " 
 
 " I believe he is satisfied it would not do me much good." 
 
 "It is not all one could wish. I have no doubt my 
 brother feels the evil as much as I do. Perhaps Rose 
 would like to go." 
 
 " I have been to Church, and I think for the last time," 
 was the answer of the unhappy girl. 
 
 " Is there not," asked Margaret, " a Church in the city 
 called King s Chapel ? I think I have heard of it. Mr. 
 Evelyn, Rose, said something to me about it. That is the 
 Dame, I believe.. ^ have been feeling this morning as if I 
 should like to go there once." 
 
 " One must be a little cautious where one goes to Church, 
 now-a-days," said Mrs. Wiswall ; "it is rather delicate 
 business. One s character is apt to suffer. I should be 
 sorry to have you make a misstep. Would not brother 
 Simeon prefer that you go say to the Old South ? " 
 
 u I am persuaded he would wish me to go wherever I 
 desired," replied Margaret. 
 
 " Yes, indeed," hummed the lady. " It is in Tremont 
 Street, corner of School." 
 
 " If you would be willing to let the servant show the 
 way, I should like to go," said Margaret. 
 
AT KING S CHAPEL. 173 
 
 " Certainly," answered Mrs. Wiswall; "any l l ng you 
 wish while you stay here." 
 
 Margaret conducted to the Church in question, was awed 
 as she entered by what presented itself to her eye as the 
 magnificence of the place ; its massive columns, its lofty 
 vault, its symbols, monuments, silence, and richness, were 
 so different from any thing she had seen ; she seemed to 
 have dropped into one of the palaces of her dreams. The 
 mysterious peals of the organ united to subdue her com 
 pletely. The people were set, when she arrived ; she 
 walked up the centre aisle, where an elderly gentleman 
 opened his pew to her. Hardly was shs seated when she 
 knelt instinctively, and wept profoundly ; and not without 
 difficulty was she able to efface the traces or prevent the 
 renewal of her emotion. The prayer excited sentiments she 
 had never before felt, and raised the decaying energies of 
 her aspirations. The music tranquillized her like oil, and 
 penetrated her with a solemn, strange transport. The 
 minister, the Rev. Dr. Freeman, then in the prime of life, 
 had that day among a multitude of hearers whom extraneous 
 objects are wont to distract or long familiarity harden, one 
 that devoured his words and was melted by his address ; 
 while, with manner becoming his subject, he discoursed 
 from the words of the prophet, " Comfort ye, comfort ye 
 my people." If he had known how much good in that 
 single instance he was able to effect, it might have recom 
 pensed him for any amount of laborious solicitude, and 
 sufficed for successive seasons of fruitless endeavor. 
 Margaret lingered on the closing steps of the service, and 
 by the singularity of her demeanor even drew the attention 
 of the occupants of the pew. These consisted of the elderly 
 gentleman, a lady who might be his wife, two young ladies, 
 and a young man, their daughters and son. The face of 
 15* 
 
174 MARGARET. 
 
 the last recalled to Margaret the street lamp, and floated in 
 with her first impressions of relief the night she entered the 
 city. " You are welcome to a seat with us," said the head 
 of the party. "I thank you," replied Margaret, and 
 mingled with the retiring congregation. 
 
 The next week she aided Rose in preparation for the 
 stage, and on the night of the representation she was al 
 lowed to accompany her behind the scenes, where she 
 helped dress the Lady-in-waiting, and fortified her friend 
 for the delicate and novel adventure to which she was com 
 mitted. The piece was received with applause, and these 
 raw artists, out of the small part they enacted, contrived to 
 eke considerable amount of self-gratulation. The play 
 was repeated, and Rose bore herself so well she had the 
 promise of being advanced to Bertha s role, who was going 
 off in Lady Teazle. 
 
 The succeeding Sabbath, Margaret repaired again to 
 King s Chapel, thus exhibiting the somewhat anomalous 
 sight of a virtual stage-player and devout church-goer ; but 
 she was witless of any contradiction. Admitted to the se 
 crets of the theatre, as we gather from her conversations 
 with Rose, her first impressions gradually dulled. Not to 
 speak of other things, she remarked that her ideas became 
 sadly disarranged by observing the superficiality of that on 
 which so much consequence depended. Pasteboard, paint, 
 hollowness, heartlessness, she said, were inadequate for such 
 an effect. "I looked into the pit; there were tears, and 
 smiles, and fervid passion, while one of the actresses was 
 fretting because her shoes pinched ; Bertha, in the farce, 
 was down-sick with a cold, and one gentleman died in the 
 tragedy and was brought off drunk. The theatre seems to 
 me almost as bad as the church ; it is all puppetry alike." 
 
 " I know it, Margaret," replied Rose, * but what shall 
 
AN ALARM. 175 
 
 we do? I suppose you will call me a puppet, too. If not 
 acting one s self constitutes a person such, then I am a pup 
 pet. And that is just what I want, to get away from my 
 self. Yet when the Black Castle comes on I will show 
 you real acting." 
 
 " Dear Rose, how sorry we are for ourselves, are we 
 not ? But how can I consent to such methods of arousing 
 people s attention, and moving their affections ? " 
 
 At whatever judgment Margaret might have been des 
 tined to arrive on these subjects, she was not long in find 
 ing new topics of speculation. Returning one night at a 
 late hour from the play, with Rose and their company, she 
 stopped to look at the effect of a bright moon on the high 
 tide waters that filled the bay west of the Common, a con 
 junction it had not fallen to her lot before to witness, and 
 one that insensibly detained her while the others walked 
 along. " Let fly your sheets, there ! the bite is after you ! " 
 was a loud, blunt cry that startled her. " Run ! run ! " 
 Before she could collect herself, or comprehend the cause 
 of this sudden alarm, a hand was upon her ; but no sooner 
 did she feel it, than it left her ; and turning, she beheld a man 
 struggling in the grasp of another man. " Climb the rat- 
 tlings, mount the horse, there," cried the last man, " while 
 I make the cull easy ; you are in danger, Margaret ; that s 
 Obed s horse ; up with you." She beheld the veritable 
 Tim standing close by her ; she called his name, and sprang 
 upon his back ; and directly after her mounted the man 
 whose voice she had heard. No sooner were they seated, 
 than the other man rushed forward, and laying violent 
 hands upon the horse attempted to stop him ; the spiteful 
 beast flung out, and gallcped away. "When Margaret 
 recovered from the flurry of events, she recognized in the 
 man with whom she was riding the sailor that accosted 
 
176 MARGARET. 
 
 Nirarod the day they reached Cambridge. He said h s 
 name was Ben Bolter ; and in a dialect mongrel and 
 strange, he gave Margaret to understand, as well as he 
 could, that he was an old friend of her brother s ; that 
 Kimrod and Obed after a short confinement were released 
 from prison ; and the first having searched the city in vain 
 for her, had gone back to Livingston to see Deacon Rams- 
 dill about her, while the other remained both to find his 
 friends and sell his wares ; that he himself was also on the 
 lookout for her ; that enjoying a furlough, he had engaged 
 the use of Tim, who he declared was the worst craft he 
 ever sailed in ; and finally, being at the theatre that night, 
 he thought he discovered her behind the curtains ; and 
 following the matter up, he came upon her just as one, 
 whom he characterized as an old enemy of his, and whom 
 Nimrod did not like, seemed to take advantage of her 
 being alone to do her an injury. 
 
 Hastening forward to Mrs. Wiswall s, Margaret found 
 Rose standing alone at the gate. " Plow you have fright 
 ened me ! " exclaimed the latter ; " I thought you were 
 with Bertha. They were telling me of a new play I 
 went back after you ; you must have taken another street ; 
 I thought you were lost." 
 
 " Have you been anchored here ? " said the sailor ; 
 " what place is this ? " 
 
 " Mrs. Wiswall s," answered Margaret. 
 
 " I guess Nirnrod cast the name overboard, before he 
 got here," replied the sailor. " But I don t like her build. 
 What flag does she sail under ? What s her crew ? " 
 
 " O, Margaret ! " outspoke Rose, " I have suspected 
 something wrong. I don t like Mrs. Wiswall s face. Some 
 old remembered villany sleeps in it. She is not the Dea 
 con s sister ! " 
 
AN ALAHM. 177 
 
 " It has seemed to me as if all was not right," observed 
 Margaret. 
 
 " I wouldn t stay here," said the sailor. 
 
 " What shall we do ? " cried Rose ; " whither now shall 
 we flee ? I will never step my foot into this house again." 
 
 " I know where a certain family lives, not far from the 
 Common," said Margaret ; " I am willing to go and throw 
 myself .upon them for to-night." 
 
 " Ben Bolter," said Rose, " take us to sea with you. 
 Carry us out of the world." 
 
 They went, however, as Margaret proposed, and reached 
 a house lying like Mrs. Wiswall s back from the street. It 
 was a late hour, and no lights were visible, but the resolu 
 tion of Rose and the confidence of Margaret led them 
 straightway through the yard and up the steps. The sailor 
 did the knocking in a manner easy enough to himself, but 
 such as might have wrought violence on the peace of others, 
 They were not kept long waiting, when the door was 
 opened by one whose face was now familiar to Margaret, 
 and which Rose might perchance remember having seen, 
 the young man whose father gave Margaret a seat in 
 church, and to whose house she now fled for refuge. They 
 stated their errand and their distress, in which was con 
 tained their apology. 
 
 " Come in," said the young man, " I will speak to my 
 sister ; the knocking I think has saved me the trouble of 
 arousing her." 
 
 They were taken into the parlor, and the young man soon 
 returned with his sister, whom he introduced as Anna Jones ; 
 his name was Edward. Preliminaries were speedily settled, 
 and our wanderers shown to their bed. They met in the 
 morning with a kind reception from Mr. and Mrs. Jones, and 
 another daughter , Winifred. These five composed the 
 
178 MARGARET. 
 
 family, between whom and Margaret an interest had al 
 ready been reciprocated from their casual rencontre at 
 church, and which did not fail to extend to Rose. The ring 
 on Margaret s finger seemed also to announce an old 
 acquaintance, and served to recall the name of Mr. Eve 
 lyn, who the Joneses said was an intimate friend of theirs, 
 and they expressed pleasure in seeing one of whom he had 
 spoken in terms of commendation. 
 
 Mr. Jones had been a prosperous India merchant, and 
 had perhaps reaped emolument from a field of adventure 
 which it is to be hoped will never again in our own or any 
 land be needful, laudable, or lawful privateering. His 
 mansion contained many things to interest his new guests. 
 Among the paintings was a Christ bearing the Cross, by 
 Raphael, that divided Margaret s attention with a Magda 
 len at Devotion ; a Lady taking the Veil and Murillo s 
 Prodigal Son engaged Rose. They were introduced to 
 rooms furnished with superb mirrors, marble busts, etc. ; a 
 Library rich in architecture, more in books ; they revelled 
 in a Conservatory of rare flowers. What especially delight 
 ed them was a piano played with skill and effect by Anna, 
 "while with a strong but latent peculiarity of feeling, Mar 
 garet listened to a guitar, the instrument of Winifred. 
 Edward Jones they learned was a student of Theology, in 
 which science he supplied them with his views. They 
 were also introduced to a mother of Mr. Jones, a very old 
 woman, who entertained them with tales of ancient time ; 
 so two or three days wore away. One morning, Rose 
 cried out that Obed was coming ! " There he is with his 
 saddle bags and new hat mounting the steps." Margaret 
 sprang for the door. "Hold," siiid Rose, "let us get 
 under the curtains, and see what he is after." They con 
 cealed themselves, and Obed entered. 
 
AT MB. JONES S. 179 
 
 " Don t want teu buy some of my things, I cal late, deu 
 ye?" 
 
 " Be seated, sir," said Anna, " and let me see what you 
 have." 
 
 " Han t seen nothin of Molly, have ye ? " 
 
 " Molly, Molly ! I have not heard of such a person." 
 
 " I m feered she s kilt, or pizened, run over, lost, or 
 drounded." 
 
 " Is she your daughter, sir?" 
 
 "No; she s Molly, Pluck s Molly; one of the Injins, 
 what lives under the Head, next the Pond, and neighbor of 
 Marm s. Nim and I brung her to the Bay, and Rose ; I run 
 arter a shoat at the races, and caught him ; I couldn t hold 
 him, he was so greasy, and they wouldn t let me have the 
 cup ; they wouldn t let Nim have his beat, and we knocked 
 them down, and they knocked us down, and put us into 
 jail ; and when we went back the gals was gone. This is 
 an orful place. One woman threw a broom at me, cause I 
 telled her I had something that would cure her humors. 
 They ve kilt Molly, and drounded her under the bridge ! " 
 
 " I am sorry for you. You should not have left her." 
 
 " Marm telled me teu look arter her ; she was always 
 good teu me, and helped me dig roots, and kept Bull off." 
 
 " Then you want her to work for you. Can t you find 
 somebody else for that?" 
 
 " I dun know ; she s a right smart consarn, Marm says, 
 When she was at home, I could always find her, if she 
 warn t gone into the woods. If I k no wed where she was 
 I could find her now." 
 
 " What would you give if I would help you find her ? " 
 
 " I dun know ; I ve axed all the folk, and they never 
 seen her ; and there she lives close by our house, and the 
 Master knows her, and she can read eeny-most as well as 
 
180 MARGARET. 
 
 Parson Welles, and she is the only one in the world can go 
 up teu Tim, only me and Marm. If you would find her, 
 I d let you have some flag, that is good to chaw. Don t 
 want to buy some of Harm s Nommernisstortumbug? I ve 
 sold more than nine hundred boxes sen we found it out. 
 It ll cure yer croup, chopped hands, coughs, scalt head, 
 measles, small-pox, jaunders, toothache, dropsy, backache." 
 
 "What a wonder!" 
 
 " That an t half; hypo, wind-gall in yer horses, loss of 
 cud in the cows, keep the wind out of yer babies ; here is 
 the paper what the Master wrote about it. * Sudorific, de 
 tergent, febrifugous, vermifugous, aromatic, antiseptic, re- 
 frigerent, antispasmodic, cathartic, emetic, that is what 
 he says, and he knows every tiling." 
 
 " * Garrulousness, he has down." 
 
 "Yes; it cures that; that is the larnin sore tongue 
 gwab out yer mouth with quince core jell, I ve got it in my 
 bags, and take a spoonful of the Nommernis when you go 
 teu bed." 
 
 " Acrasial Philogamy ? Brother Edward, what is 
 that ? " 
 
 " That," replied Edward, " is an incurable malady to 
 which young persons are subject." 
 
 " The Master said twas takin , and Marm said it was an 
 orful complaint, she knew. Take pennyrial, pound up 
 sweet cicely root, and bile with henbane and half an ounce 
 of the Nommernis till it s done, and it ll break the fever." 
 
 " What is this, * Cacoethes Feminarum ? " 
 
 " That s humors. Elder blows 11 due it for urn." 
 
 " Diseta et oratio est optima medicina diet and praye r 
 he says are the best medicines what does that mean ? " 
 
 " Them is the sientifikals ; one of the ministers took teu 
 boxes of the Nommernis when he read that, he liked it so 
 
AT MR. JONES S. 181 
 
 WO H. What is that noise ? Ye han t got any thing shet up 
 here?" 
 
 " Nothing that will hurt you." 
 
 " I don t like yer housen ; they are full of bull-beggars 
 and catamounts. Marm 11 scold at me like nutcakes, if I 
 can t find Molly. She s kilt, they ve drounded her under 
 the bridge ! " 
 
 * What are you going to do with her ? " 
 " Don t know ; Marm han t said. They are all broke up 
 down there sen the murder. Marm said if Molly come teu 
 our house she might have the best bed. But she don t want 
 Pluck nor Hash ; they are an orful set. I can t stay ; I can 
 hear urn snickerin at me as they did up teu tother house, 
 and Marm wouldn t like it." 
 
 Rose and Margaret burst from their retreat with a loud 
 laugh, and gave Obed a hearty greeting ; which he, bemazed 
 and ecstacized, returned as handsomely as he knew how. 
 Obed confirmed the account given by the sailor, and said 
 Nimrod promised to return as soon as he could see Deacon 
 Ramsdill, and that he was looking for him every day. To 
 the great joy of all, the next morning Obed, with Ben Bol 
 ter, appeared, conducting Nimrod and Deacon Ramsdill to 
 the house. 
 
 " This beats old Suwarrow," said Nimrod. "You have 
 kept as shy as young partridges." 
 
 " A pretty tough spell you have had of it, gals," said the 
 Deacon. " But you know, Molly, you always find the chest 
 nuts arter a biting frost and hard wind. Some good may 
 come of it, the Lord knows. I havn t no particular 
 business here, but Freelove thought I had better come 
 down, and see what was to pay. We are in a peck of 
 troubles at home, about the Meetin -house and the Parson 
 and every thing. Some want a new Minister ; they won t 
 
 VOL. II. 1Q 
 
182 MARGARET. 
 
 help about putting up the house. We have had several 
 Town Meetings, but there is a good deal of disorder and 
 some hard feeling. I count it s best for every one to paddle 
 his canoe his own way, and when he hasn t a way, why, let 
 his neighbor enjoy his, that s all. There an t no two spears 
 of grass alike, and you can t make all people think alike, 
 only I count they might live in peace together in the same 
 field. But Brother Hadlock wouldn t listen to me, and 
 when you can t do nobody any good, then you had better 
 let them alone. It s no use talking agin the grain. When 
 hens are shedding their feathers they don t lay eggs ; and 
 one can t look for much among our folk now so I thought 
 I had as good s come away. But the hotter the fire the 
 whiter the oven ; if our fire will be of any service, the Lord 
 knows. I have been arter sheep through brush and ditches, 
 before now, gals, and I commonly found them in better feed 
 than their own close. Ha, ha ! " 
 
 " They have found a good berth," said Ben Bolter, 
 looking about the room. k But I should like to fall upon 
 them Algerines." 
 
 "There has been some singular mistake or mischief at 
 work," said Mr. Jones. " There must have been an error 
 in the name, or something of that soit, I think." 
 
 " The old fox, weasel, or what not, 1 am determined to 
 dig it out," said Nimrod. 
 
 "I have been to Pamela s," said the Deacon, " and she 
 says she hasn t seen any thing of you ; and she wants you to 
 go right round there." 
 
 " We will all go together," said Mr. Jones. 
 
 Accordingly they went to " the Widow Wizzle s," the 
 sister of the Deacon, whom they found a different person in 
 some respects from their old acquaintance, her namesake. 
 Nimrod and Ben Bolter exhibited strong desire to see the 
 
A DISCOVERY. 183 
 
 late hostess of the young ladies, and Nimrod said they must 
 go \\ith him; their repugnance heing overborne by the 
 Joneses, who offered to support them in the step of revisiting 
 a house for which they had conceived a deep dislike. 
 
 Arriving at Mrs. Wiswall s, they found that lady in a 
 state of extreme agitation, and in the same room they saw 
 also a very aged man sitting leaning on his staff, from which 
 he hardly raised his face. Whatever might have been their 
 method of address, or the purport of this visit, they were 
 met by the apparation of a human being, in large black 
 whiskers, deathly pale, leaning on the arm of Bertha, and 
 emerging from the back parlor. " Raxman ! " involuntarily 
 shuddered Rose, and fire that had long consumed her heart 
 flashed into her face, and retired ; and she hung convulsed 
 on the arm of the younger Jones. 
 
 " Nope him on the costard," said Ben Bolter. 
 
 " Keep still," said Nimrod, " and let us see what the 
 fellow has to say." 
 
 He, to whom all eyes were now turned, as if he had come 
 in on some such errand, thus spoke : 
 
 " I am," said he, " a sick and dying man. Your violence, 
 Ben Bolter, comes too late ; the blow from the horse has 
 
 done the work. Miss Elphiston, Miss Margaret, 
 
 can you forgive me. I have wished to see you to ask this 
 last earthly favor. It was I who led you to this house ; it 
 was through my instigation you were detained here; it was 
 my wishes that regulated all behavior towards you ; nor 
 would my mother, whom you see before you, or my sister, 
 have consented to such a transaction as this must appear 
 in your eyes, except through me. If my motives were 
 selfish, they were not so disgraceful to you, Miss Hart, as to 
 me. I cannot unfold it all now ; that shall be done at 
 other hands. I am weak, I am dying. I have only 
 
184 MARGARET. 
 
 strength to be the recipient of mercy. Miss Elphiston, to 
 you I make no apology, I ask no charity, my conduct 
 admits of no qualification. I only crave your forgiveness 5 
 a sheer wretch, I entreat it ; at your feet I implore you to 
 forgive me. Your beauty, ladies, ensnared me, an un 
 controlled ambition has led me on, your virtues and your 
 sufferings have brought me to repentance, and not, I trust, 
 the fear of death alone." 
 
 There was breathless silence, then a discordant tremor 
 pervaded the room; the old man shook audibly on his 
 cane, the group in the centre worked with varied frenzy. 
 Margaret was the first to break this singular perplexity. 
 " I forgive you," said she, " I forgive all your wrong -to- 
 me, whatever may have been its intention." 
 
 " Never, never" said Rose, " can I forgive you." 
 
 " It is late shutting the door when the mare is stolen," 
 said Deacon Ramsdill ; " but when she comes back of her 
 own accord, you had better let her in. Besides, Rose, the 
 good book says, Forgive, and ye shall be forgiven. " 
 
 " I have forsworn that" answered Rose. 
 
 " Don t speak so, Rose," interceded Edward Jones. lie 
 seems to be sincerely penitent. It would be a relief to his 
 last moments to have your forgiveness." 
 
 "I cannot, I cannot!" she rejoined. 
 
 " O that Miss Elphiston would forgive my brother," 
 prayed Bertha, weeping. 
 
 " You see, Mr. Jones," said Mrs. Wisvvall, addressing 
 the senior of the name, " the wretched mother of two 
 wretched children. But where is pity for her to be sought 
 or received? In that son and daughter you behold the 
 tokens of all my sins and all my sufferings. Have yon, 
 Sir, been ignorant of my course ? My vanity was allured 
 and my confidence betrayed by a British officer. One, in 
 
A DISCOVERT. 185 
 
 whose house we now are, instructed me in the arts, and un- 
 bridlei me for a career of deception. When he left the 
 country and could make no further reparation for his inju 
 ries, he gave me the title to his estate. I followed the 
 American camp ; I was cajoled by your own officers. I 
 became a runner between the two armies, when the British 
 held New York. And when it is his turn to speak, that 
 sits there ," she pointed to the old man, " he will tell you 
 more. I returned after the War to this house, and here I 
 am ; my unhappy children pleading in vain for that mercy 
 which another s infamy might justly implore, and which 
 their guilty, miserable mother, the cause of all their calam 
 ities, can never bestow. Who, Miss Elphiston, ever asked 
 my pardon ? Who ever knelt for my forgiveness ? What 
 dying man has flung to me the poor boon of his remorse ? 
 By whose penitence has my own conscious load of sin been 
 lightened ? My relentings, were they ever so great, had 
 been lavished on the winds ; my commiserations had been, 
 squandered on scoffs and jeers ; my love, which even the 
 guilty sometimes feel, and it is a relief to the abandoned to 
 exercise, has been answered by the frowns of the honored 
 and the repulse of the prosperous. Here I am, freshly 
 awakened to a sense of my enormities, and denied the priv 
 ilege of seeing one gleam of peace fall upon the heads of 
 my poor children. My own guilt seems to augment, and 
 they are plunged into still deeper distress. Miss Margaret, 
 my conduct towards you must appear equivocal, suspicious, 
 and fraught with duplicity. But the crime belongs rather 
 to the means than the intent, and I have been too long famil 
 iar with the ways of the world to haggle at the manner 
 when the end is desirable. I had reason to believe that my 
 son s purposes were honorable, however his action must for 
 ever degrade him in your eyes. In what a world do we 
 16* 
 
186 
 
 MARGARET. 
 
 live! By what steadfastly increasing evil are our steps 
 pursued ! Our life is but the ministration of woe and ruin 
 by man to man ! He who rules all things for the best, per 
 mits some to fall where others rise. Your beauty, which 
 princes might covet, shall bear you aloft, like the Star of 
 Evening, diffusing lustre about you, and cheering your own 
 existence. Mine sinks beyond recovery, the darkness of 
 disgrace adding new deformity to the waste of years ; and 
 the lost innocence of my childhood returns to shed ven- 
 gence on my enfeebled age ! " 
 
 " Ho ! " hemmed Ben Bolter ; " I must overhaul my cop 
 pers, and get my head on another tack." 
 
 " I do forgive you," said Rose, " and may Heaven forgive 
 me too." 
 
 While these scenes were transpiring among the principal 
 parties in the room, one might have detected Nimrod in 
 earnest whisper with the old man, aside : " Not now, Sir, 
 not now ; this is enough for once ; wait till we get away, 
 we will go to Mr., Jones s." 
 
 The party returned to the house whence they started. 
 Meanwhile Mr Jones, taking Margaret by herself, said he 
 would open on a subject of some interest to her. He doubt 
 ed not, he added, that her good sense would receive what 
 he was commissioned to declare without confusion , and the 
 fortitude she had displayed in adverse circumstances would 
 not forsake her under more agreeable events. What was 
 coming, she might well ask, that required such a preface. 
 " Have you a grandfather ? " he asked ; she replied she knew 
 of none ; that she supposed the parents of both her father 
 and mother were dead. " I have the pleasure, then," con 
 tinued Mr. Jones, " to inform you that your grandfather is 
 living, and the old man we saw at Mrs. WiswalPs is he." 
 He then proceeded to put her in possession of what the 
 
A DISCOVERY. 187 
 
 reader already knows, that she was the adopted child of 
 Pluck and Brown Moll, that her own father and mother 
 died in her infancy, that she had been disowned by her 
 grandfather, who, nevertheless, had contributed supplies to 
 her comfort, and whom, in a word, she must prepare 
 to receive the following day. 
 
 The next morning Nimrod and Ben Bolter, accompanied 
 by the old man, Mr. Girardeau, came to Mr. Jones s. The 
 way having been prepared, little remained but for Marga 
 ret to embrace her grandfather. The old man laid his 
 hand on her head, and with a voice broken by age and 
 husky with emotion, said, "Jane, Jane, my own Jane, my 
 Jane s own !" Summoning Rose, he held the girls face to 
 face, and said, " This is your cousin, Margaret, the grand 
 child of my wife s sister ; and Nimrod," continued he, " is 
 not your adopted brother only, his mother is the daughter 
 of my only sister. Others have asked your forgiveness, 
 but who needs it more than I ? I turned you off in help 
 less infancy ; I have greatly sinned against you and others 
 too, more than I can tell. But Nimrod and Ben Bolter 
 will inform you of what I cannot. Let me be forgiven, and 
 you shall know my wrong-doings afterwards." 
 
 " Sit down, Sir," said Nimrod, " and I will tell all I know 
 about the matter," and he proceeded to relate his first con 
 nection with Margaret, and his taking her to the Pond. 
 
 " Tis all true," added the sailor. " Nim and I were 
 messmates. I was there when he brought you off; I 
 helped stow you away ; I dandled you when he was 
 asleep ; I lowered you down when he left the sloop ; you 
 was a good-looking cock-boat, but make a spread eagle of 
 me, if you havn t grown into as handsome a merchantman 
 as ever carried a bone in her mouth. But, blow me, if 
 
188 MARGARET. 
 
 Obed s horse hadn t a bunged the cull s puddings, I don t 
 know where you would have brought up." 
 
 u God s hand is in it ! " said Deacon Ramsdill, who came 
 in during these disclosures. " We read, that when the lost 
 one came home, they danced and made merry. And you 
 recollect, Molly, when they brought you up out of the 
 woods, the Preacher prayed before the dance begun. I 
 feel as if I should like to pray before we get on to the 
 rejoicings." Whereupon they all joined with the Deacon, 
 who, in simple heartfelt manner, made thanksgiving to 
 Almighty God. 
 
 Leaving these persons to recapitulate details, exchange 
 congratulations, and make such demonstration of joy as was 
 natural to the hour, we must go with our readers to places 
 and times somewhat remote, and bring up a brief account 
 illustrative of events that have now been recorded. 
 
THE HISTORY OF MR. GIRADEAU. 189 
 
 CHAPTER XII. 
 
 THE HISTORY OF MR. GIRARDEAU. 
 
 DURING the period of our Colonial existence, the 
 American Planters were in the practice of importing, not 
 black slaves from the coast of Guinea alone, but also white 
 servants from various parts of Europe. Among the pro 
 prietors of the Simsbury Copper Mines in the State of 
 Connecticut were several Frenchmen, the wealthy, enter 
 prising, exiled Huguenots. It became an object with these 
 gentlemen to combine in their establishment those who 
 could speak their own tongue. About the year 1740, there 
 arrived in Norfolk, Virginia, a cargo of servants, and of the 
 number were some from Jersy, an island belonging to the 
 English Crown, but inhabited in good part by a French 
 population. A purchase was made, including a portion of 
 this last description of persons. In the lot were Jean 
 Waugh, and Marie his sister. Jean was a young man of 
 some ambition. He was ready to exchange poverty and 
 oppression in the Old World, for temporary vassalage in 
 the New, with the prospect of ultimate enfranchisement and 
 possessions. He threw himself, with his sister, into the 
 hands of an American shipmaster, consented to be adver 
 tised with coals and salt in the public prints, to be knocked 
 off at public vendue, and for the consideration of twelve 
 pounds paid the importer became the subject of indentures 
 binding him to the Simsbury Company for six years, the 
 term affixed by law to those of his age. Jean was master 
 of the French and English languages ; he could rend and 
 
190 MARGARET. 
 
 write, he was spirited and active. He wheeled ore with 
 blacks, labored with the pickaxe, and drilled rocks. By 
 the regulations of the peculiar institution to which he was 
 subservient, he could not marry ; none could trade or truck 
 with him ; he could not leave the premises, nor was he 
 eligible to office. In the result he became tired of his con 
 dition, one indeed not congenial with the spirit of the 
 present age, and the vestiges of which can only be traced 
 in an obscure antiquity. Adopting an obvious method of 
 deliverance, he ran away, a criminal offence, for which he was 
 publicly whipped. Returning a blow upon the executioner, 
 he became liable to two years additional service. Again 
 contriving to escape, he joined a gang of counterfeiters, and 
 the Bills of Credit issued by the Provinces, in periods of 
 alarm, became encumbered and perplexed. He fled the 
 region, and a few years afterwards reappeared in New 
 York, associated with brokers, smugglers, and that class of 
 men who contrive to reap advantage from public distress or 
 private credulity. Here he took the name of Girardeau, 
 and, as such, has already been introduced to our readers. 
 
 It so happened that a little boy, who dwelt in the neigh 
 borhood of the Mines, and often played about the grounds, 
 was a witness of Jean s punishment, and from a habit 
 peculiar to his nature, took sides with the delinquent ; and 
 ultimately gave him essential support in his attempts to 
 escape. This was Didymus Hart, familiarly known in this 
 Memoir as Pluck. Marie, the sister of Mr. Girardeau, 
 seduced by an Overseer at the Mines, died in giving birth 
 to twin daughters, one of whom Didymus subsequently 
 married, and the other became the Mrs. Wiswall mentioned 
 in the foregoing chapter. 
 
 To digress a moment on the history of Pluck after Mr. 
 Girarddau was in circumstances to recompense his bene- 
 
THE HISTORY OF MR. GIRARDEAU. 191 
 
 factor, as well as show his attachment to the child of his 
 sister, he made liberal grants to Mr. Hart, and even helped 
 establish him in some mercantile pursuit. But Pluck, 
 abandoning himself to his cups, dissipated at once his good 
 name and his estate ; and for some misdemeanor, losing one 
 of his ears, he became still more reckless and improvident, 
 and finally succeeded in completely estranging the affection 
 of Mr. Girardeau, as he had already forfeited the respect of 
 his fellow-citizens. He removed to Livingston, where he 
 supported his family awhile by tending bar for Mr. Smith, 
 at No. 4, and at last took up his residence at the Pond. 
 
 Mr. Girardeau married a sister of the grandmother of 
 Rose. The acquisition of wealth became the engrossing 
 passion of this man, an object that he clutched with a 
 miserly and inextinguishable activity, and with a singleness 
 of aim and sagacity of calculation that rendered elusion 
 impossible. For this he sacrificed all generous impulses^ 
 inflicted unhappiness on his family, sent his wife to a 
 premature grave, and would have wrecked the virtues, as he 
 finally contributed to the death, of his child. When imposts 
 were high he contrived to smuggle his commodities ; when 
 premium was exorbitant, he had money to lend. If trade 
 was interrupted in one quarter, he opened channels for it 
 in another. As fortune is said to aid the bold, when the 
 ports were closed, what should happen but his own well- 
 laden ships were already in the offing. During the first 
 alarms of the War, when multitudes deserted the city, he 
 became chapman of their estates ; confiscated property he 
 bid in for a trifle. He trafficked in public securities, and 
 realized much where many lost their all. Mr. Girardeau 
 was master of the. German, either by an original acquisition, 
 or froja intercourse with that portion of our immigrant 
 population ; thus supplied with three important dialects, he 
 
102 MARGARET. 
 
 held a position superior to most of his contemporaries. 
 This language he also taught his daughter, who, it will be 
 recollected, was able to discourse with Briickmann, the 
 young Waldecker, in his own tongue. During the War, 
 for purposes humane or military, large quantities of gold 
 and silver were transported backwards and forwards be 
 tween the adjacent country and the city. Much of this 
 passed through the hands of Mr. Girardeau, who did not 
 fail to take due brokerage. He was a Patriot, or Tory, with 
 equal facility ; and if he accommodated his coat to the hue 
 of the parties with whom he dealt, its facing retained but 
 one color, that of their common gold. In these negotia 
 tions he also employed the services of his other twin niece, 
 Mrs. Wiswall, and her little boy, called Raxman, whom at 
 the close of the War, it has been related, Nimrod found on 
 the premises of Mr. Girardeau. The acquaintance of this 
 woman on both sides of the line, the protection afforded by 
 her sex, the harrnlessness of the lad, were circumstances of 
 which he did not fail to avail himself. Introduced to the 
 secrets of the contending powers, he made adventures with 
 a safe foresight. The agent of factions and intrigues, he 
 never violated his trust except when driven to what is 
 termed the first law of nature, to which he had timely 
 recourse. The public good he satisfied himself he carried, 
 where others have borne important sections of the country, 
 in his breeches pocket. At the close of the War he 
 purchased city lands, which in the progress of time doubled 
 and quadrupled on his hands. In the game of public life, 
 leaving to others offices and honors, place and power, he 
 managed to sweep the banks into his own drawers. When 
 war threatened with France, he obtained foreign exchange 
 at a discount, and after the disturbance sold it at an ad 
 vance. He speculated in continental bills; he profited by 
 
THE HISTORY OF MR. GIRARDEAU. 193 
 
 the wars of Europe. Such was Mr. Girardeau. At the 
 expiration of the century, the Jersey servant had arisen to a 
 fortune, estimated, at the time, as high as two millions of 
 dollars. 
 
 But old age had already overtaken him, and death was 
 not far off. Palsy, without a figure, loosened his hold of 
 his gains, and he could not be indifferent to the destination 
 of an estate amassed with so much painstaking. From 
 the depths of the ocean come up bubbles that sparkle on its 
 surface. In Mr. Girardeau appeared some symptoms of 
 an imperishable humanity. His daughter he had perse 
 cuted even unto death. He began to refreshen his memory 
 with some thoughts of the grandchild. He discovered the 
 place of her abode, and, in an assumed cosfume, appeared at 
 the Pond. Having certified himself of her existence and 
 identity, he departed. Why did he not make himself known ? 
 Nimrod, whose parentage was disguised, when he first 
 became the servant of Mr. Girardeau, exceedingly pro 
 voked and irritated him. Pluck, having once pitied, he 
 could never forgive. To Brown Moll, his niece, he attrib 
 uted a share of her husband s misfortunes. But we can 
 not explain what we do not understand, the labyrinths of 
 the human mind, nor can we relate all the operations of 
 that of Mr. Girardeau. It suffices to know that he did 
 relent, at least so far as his grandchild was concerned, and 
 embraced Margaret in his munificent intentions. Raxman 
 had continued in his grand-uncle s employ in the capacity 
 of a clerk, an office he fulfilled with the fidelity of a child 
 and the industry of a slave. But this young gentleman s 
 conduct with Rose, having reached the ears of Mr. Girar 
 deau, gave him great provocation. At length, however, 
 the apparent reformation of Raxman induced him to offer 
 him a liberal endowment if he would marry Margaret. 
 
 VOL. II. 17 
 
194 MARGARET. 
 
 To effect this object Raxraan made a journey to the 
 Pond, where his success has been related. Here, also, this 
 young man found an unexpected obstacle to his wishes 
 in the presence of Rose. It needs also to be told that he 
 applied to the Widow Wright, and sought, by means which 
 he found most acceptable with that lady, to gain her to his 
 purpose ; which had now become twofold, that of securing 
 Margaret and withdrawing Rose. But the Widow, who 
 had her dreams about Margaret, when she found she was 
 likely to lose her to herself, immediately changed her tac 
 tics, and endeavored to detain Margaret, and insisted that 
 he should marry Rose. Rax man left the Pond and 
 returned to New York, where he found Nimrod, to whose 
 assistance in this complicity of affair she appealed. But 
 Nimrod had no friendship for Raxman, and a very strong 
 one for Margaret. 
 
 Now at this time Mr. Girardeau himself began to exhibit 
 signs of penitence ; he avowed a most benevolent interest in 
 his grandchild ; and assured Nimrod that every thing should 
 be done for the good and felicity of Margaret, if he would 
 render aid to Raxman. Accordingly he was hired to take 
 her away from the Pond, a measure which he undertook in 
 the manner described. He was to meet Raxman at Hart 
 ford ; great was the disappointment of the young man to 
 find Rose of the company. He suggested the continuation 
 of the journey to Boston. He hastened on before arid 
 acquainted his mother with his designs. He was in Cam 
 bridge when the party arrived there ; he had intelligence 
 conveyed to the girls of the imprisonment of Nimrod and 
 Obed ; he hovered on their steps as they entered the city ; 
 he knew of the letter to the sister of the Deacon ; he came 
 up with them as they parted with Edward Jones; and 
 muffled in a cloak, disguising his voice, he conducted them 
 
THE HISTORY OF MK. GIRARDEAU. 195 
 
 to his mother s ; who, in truth, was sometimes called Wis- 
 wall. He remained about the house, but was not seen in 
 it. The attachment of Margaret and Rose was a difficulty 
 not easily surmounted ; various methods were taken to 
 divide them, but all failed. At length the accidental with 
 drawal occured as they returned from the Theatre. Rax- 
 man sought to improve the moment ; but a new balk to his 
 projects offered itself in the person of Ben Bolter. The 
 result is known. Tim, whom the sailor sported on all 
 occasions, dealt the young man a mortal blow. It might 
 appear that Ben Bolter himself had some secret antipathy 
 to Raxman ; but of this we have no further knowledge 
 that his owm words imply. Mr. Girardeau, learning what 
 had befallen his relative, immediately came to Boston. 
 
 Such is the narrative to which the preceding chapter has 
 given rise ; and now, whatever relates to these accidental 
 personages having been told, and the thread of the story 
 evolved, let us return to the principal subject of this Tale. 
 
 A new sphere of interest was open to Margaret, and one 
 in which, notwithstanding her need of quiet and repose, she 
 set herself to making immediate exploration ; we refer to 
 the circumstances of her own birth, and the history of her 
 father and mother, Gottfried Bruckmann and Jane Girar 
 deau. Sedulous and minute were her inquiries on these 
 points ; and she found her grandfather, as well as Nimrod, 
 disposed to communicate whatever they knew. Edward 
 Jones, then in correspondence with Mr. Evelyn, wrote his 
 friend, who was expecting to visit Germany, to make 
 inquiries concerning Bruckmann and Margaret Bruneau, 
 in Pyrmont and Rubillaud. Mr. Girardeau had religiously 
 preserved the relics of his daughter and her husband, and 
 said he had in his possession the flute, books, and sundry 
 papers which they left. The bulk of his estate he made 
 
196 MARGARET. 
 
 over to Margaret, reserving annuities for his niece and her 
 daughter, Mrs. Wiswall and Bertha, in amount sufficient 
 to rescue them from their present mode of life ; Rose also 
 received a gratuity equal to a moderate fortune. They 
 were summoned ere long to fulfil the last duties of humanity 
 upon Raxman. 
 
 It was decided that Margaret and Rose should spend the 
 winter in Boston. Deacon Ramsdill, Nimrod and Obed, re 
 turned to Livingston ; the latter handsomely laden with 
 gifts, and the profits of his enterprise ; Nimrod furnished 
 with the means of redeeming the estate at the Pond, and 
 also of executing his proposed marriage. The father of 
 Margaret being a German, and having left books and 
 manuscripts in that tongue, in which also her mother was 
 skilled, she must also attempt its acquisition ; an exercise 
 in which she was assisted by Edward Jones. She devoted 
 some time every day to music, that of the piano and 
 guitar. There were not wanting benevolent persons in the 
 city, who, apprised of her good fortune, endeavored that she 
 should turn it to the best account. New bonnets, new 
 ribbons, the latest style of dresses, wero topics on which 
 she was duly enlightened. To balls, theatres, routs, card- 
 parties she was duly invited ; but this proved an atten 
 tion it was not in her power to answer. 
 
 A concession on the part of Rose afforded Margaret un- 
 mingled pleasure ; she agreed to go with her to Church ; 
 and having gone half a day they went a whole day ; and 
 from going occasionally they went constantly. Spring 
 came at last ; and Margaret and Rose, with Edward Jones 
 in company, started on horseback for Livingston. The 
 sadness with which they approached the town did not 
 abate as they entered the still desolate Green. They 
 
THE HISTORY OF MR. GIRARDEAU. 197 
 
 returned the greetings of their old friends, and hastened to 
 the Pond. The whole family came out to welcome them, 
 Bull, and all. Chilion was not there ! Here the compiler 
 takes leave of Margaret, submitting, to such as would 
 pursue the sequel of her life, the Part which follows. 
 17* 
 
TART III. 
 
 WOMANHOOD 
 
PART III. 
 
 LETTER FROM MARGARET TO ANNA JONES. 
 
 Mons Christi, . 
 
 MY DEAR ANNA: You told me to write you every 
 thing; but how shall I utter myself? How can I give 
 shape or definition to what I am ? Easy were it for me to 
 tell you what I am not. Has a volcano burst within me? 
 Has a tornado prostrated me ? If you were to excavate 
 the Herculaneum that I seem to myself to be, would you 
 find only charred effigies of things, silent fountains of old 
 emotions, deserted streets of a once busy and harmonious 
 life, skeletons of hopes stricken down in the act of running 
 from impending danger ? With Rose, I would forget my 
 self, that to which this writing recalls me. She says I can 
 endure the prospect better than she. If this be so, it must 
 be attributed to its possessing the merit of novelty. I am 
 in ruins, and so are all things about me. Yet in the wind 
 fall some trees are new sprouting ; invisible hands are re 
 building the shattered edifice. View nie as you will, I 
 think I am a doit improving. Do I begin existence wholly 
 anew, or rise I up from the chaos of an earlier condition ? 
 What is the transition from myself to myself, or from my 
 self to another ? What is the link between Molly Hart and 
 Margaret Briickmann, can you tell ? In which of the cli 
 macterics do I now exist? I am witheringly afflicted. 
 Chilion is not ! 
 
202 MARGARET. 
 
 " Te sine, vae misero mihi ! lilia nigra videntur, 
 Palentesque rosse, nee dulce rubens hyacinthus ! " 
 
 The vision of those days distracts me, the remembrance of 
 my brother turns the voices of the birds into wailing, and 
 the sun is pale at midday. In Scotland are Caves of Mu 
 sic, deep pits where unseen water keeps up a sort of mid 
 night melody. I am such a cave. Chilion flows through 
 me, a nethermost, mournfullest dirge. Then, too, Ma is so 
 silent ; her features are so rigidly distressed. She smokes 
 and weaves, hour after hour ; I fear she will never smile 
 again. Pa has lost his glow of countenance ; he has grown 
 absolutely pale ; and where he sits working, I see tears drip 
 on his leathern apron. Hash is so sober, so soft, it fright 
 ens me. Nimrod comes down from the Ledge and does 
 his best to enliven us, but his gayety has fled, and he knows 
 not how to be mournful. Bull had one leg broke at the 
 time of Chilion s trial, and hobbles out to Chilion s boat, 
 where he sits by the hour. Rose is soothing and active, 
 but she has a load at her own heart, which, in truth, I need 
 help her bear. Isabel rides up almost every day, full of 
 sympathy and generous love. Deacon Ramsdill, Master 
 Elliman, Mrs. Bowker aud others, have made us kind 
 visits. Sibyl Radney comes and milks the cow, and does 
 some of my little chores. Yesterday, Rose and Isabel 
 went with me to the burying-ground. Good old Philip 
 Davis, the Sexton, so I have been told, had the courage and 
 the kindness to go one night and cover Chilion s grave 
 with green sod. It is by itself apart, in one corner of the 
 grounds. Few persons have been near it, and the tall grass 
 has grown rank about it. I threw myself upon it and dis 
 solved in weeping. Murmur I could not ; an inarticulate, 
 ungovernable anguish was all I could feel. O my brother ! 
 I knew not I had such a brother ; I knew not I loved such 
 
TO ANNA JONES. 203 
 
 a brother ! We found a dandelion budding on it when I 
 was little, he taught me to love dandelions ! Rose folded 
 me in her arms, Isabel prayed for me. I thought of the 
 blood-sweating agony of Him, the Divine Sufferer ; it pen 
 etrated and subdued mine. Mrs. Bowker gave me a lady s 
 slipper, taken from the plant Chilion sent her. There is a 
 fancy that flowers die, when those who have tended them 
 do. Will Chilion s flowers live ? There are many of us 
 who will fulfil his love towards them. 
 
 We live at home as we were wont to do, only Rose is 
 ever with me. I share with her my bed in the garret. I 
 love the old house more than all places, and what mat 
 ters it ? 1 seem to myself to be deep as our own bot 
 tomless Pond. The Indian and his child lie there ; in me 
 the last of many ages and races of hope and life seem to 
 have perished. Clamavi de profundis. Yet, yet, the sun 
 swims through me, and I hear Jesus walking on the troubled 
 waters above. " Peace, be still; " yes, be still. How sadly 
 does suffering make us conscious of ourselves. I knew not 
 that I had any depth. Now shaft opens into shaft, and the 
 miners are still at work. I hear my chickens peeping, and 
 I must go feed them. Rose comes in sight, from a sail on 
 the water with Bull. Her beautiful smile greets me afar. 
 Thanks, dear Anna, for yourself; thanks for your flowing 
 hair, your blue, brimming eyes ; for your royal spirit that 
 daily visits me. Your brother Edward was immeasurably 
 good to us. He has written Rose, who blesses him in her 
 own soul, if she can in no other way. She will write him. 
 I had a melancholy commission at No. 4, on behalf of 
 Chilion. Since the death of Solomon, Mr. Smith s affairs 
 have worked disorderly. The Still took fire one night and 
 was consumed. He himself drinks to intoxication every 
 day, and I did not see him. Mrs. Smith arid Damaris 
 
204 MARGARET. 
 
 were wholly unprepared for my errand. The idea of for 
 giving Chilion had never entered their heads. And indeed 
 it would not restore Solomon to life ! I showed them the 
 willow basket Chilion wished me to give them. Damaris 
 cried, and we all cried. At length she said she would for 
 give Chilion, if I would forgive her for striking me when 
 they were digging in the Pines ! How complicate is our 
 life ! When I came away I made them a present, small 
 for me, but large perhaps for them. I offered also to put 
 up a monument for Solomon. But, ah s me ! I have since 
 been told, Mr. Smith declares it shall recite the fact that 
 he was murdered by Chilion, or he will have it done him 
 self. Can it not be avoided ? Yet I will submit. 
 
 In the town the greatest excitement prevails. They 
 cannot decide about rebuilding the Church. Then, Isabel 
 says, there is a preliminary and deeper question. Some 
 are anxious that Parson Welles should have a colleague, 
 and they also stipulate that he shall be a very different 
 man from their old minister. On the one side are Judge 
 Morgridge, Deacon Ramsdill, Esq. Bowker, Esq. Weeks, 
 Mr. Whiston, Mr. Pottle ; on the other Deacon Hadlock, 
 Mr. Adolphus Hadlock, Deacon Penrose, Dr. Spoor, Mr. 
 Shocks, among the most prominent ones. All these per 
 sons I believe I spoke to you about, in answer to your 
 world-wide inquiries, a point in which you excel any one I 
 ever knew. I have not been to the Green, or Desert, as 
 Isabel says it is. 
 
 Your loving but afflicted 
 
 MARGARET. 
 
 ROSE TO EDWARD JONES. 
 
 My dear Edward Jones : 
 
 I cannot forget you, I live in your approbation, I thrive 
 
ROSE TO EDWARD JONES. 205 
 
 under your care. Many obligations for your kind note. I 
 am externally more calm, my nerves are less susceptable, 
 I sleep more soundly, and Margaret says there is some 
 color in my cheeks. If we were composed of four concen 
 tric circles, I can say the three outer ones approximate a 
 healthy and natural state. But the fourth, the innermost, 
 the central core, what can I say of that ? I dare not look 
 in there, I dare not reflect upon myself. One thing, I have 
 no real guilt to harass me ; I only call to mind my follies. 
 My ambition has ever centered upon a solitary acquisition, 
 and for that alone have the energies of my being been 
 spent, sympathy ; an all-appreciating, tender, great, solemn 
 sympathy. Beguiled by this desire, I mistook the demon 
 strations of a selfish passion for tokens of a noble heart. 
 Betrayed beyond the bounds of strict propriety, I became 
 an object of the censure of mankind. Too proud to con 
 fess, or too much confounded to explain my innocence, I 
 suffered the penalties of positive infamy. It always seemed 
 ot me that I was placid by nature, and moderate in my sen 
 sations. This opposition created in me a new nature ; my 
 calamities have imparted heat to my temper and acrimony 
 to my judgment. I became impetuous, vehement, and, as 
 it were, possessed. A new consciousness was revived, both 
 of what I was and of what the world was. Up to that time 
 I had floated on with tolerable serenity, trusting myself and 
 others, and ever hoping for the best. Then commenced 
 my contention and despair. I became all at once sensible 
 of myself in a new way ; as one does in whose bosom literal 
 coals of fire are put. My heart swelled to enormous pro 
 portions ; it became diseased, and dreadfully painful. It 
 spread itself through my system, tyrannized over my 
 thought, and fed upon the choicest strength of my being. 
 My intellect was darkened, I became an atheist. Under 
 VOL. ii. 18 
 
206 MARGARET. 
 
 these circumstances, which you already know something 
 about, after having long kept it hidden, I declared myself 
 to Margaret. She had sufficient penetration to understand 
 me and magnanimity to love me ; she awed me by her 
 superior, uniform goodness. I availed myself of a moment 
 when she was in tears to unfold the cause of my own. I 
 rejoiced in her weakness, because I thought thereby I could 
 find entrance to her greatness. The, melancholy, to me 
 most melancholy, events of her brother s dtath, I need not 
 recapitulate. 
 
 When we left Livingston, I seemed to be driven on as by 
 the elements ; whither or how I cared not. I had some 
 tact, and my connection with the Theatre, it was said, 
 would be an advantage to the company. Indeed, it was 
 hinted, that I might become a Star ! Ah, how I should 
 have shone ! This new life glittered before me, and into 
 the prospect I threw whatever power of resolution or hope 
 I had remaining. Margaret agreed to abide ever with me 
 and aid me as she could ; while I was to earn the liveli 
 hood for us both. 
 
 One good I did derive from this adventure, self- forgetful- 
 ness. 1 attained a sort of ecstasy of outward delight ; and, 
 will you believe it? I grew better. This external happiness 
 sank into my being deeper and deeper ; it chased away my 
 regrets, it healed my morbidness. My evil and distress 
 seemed to diminish. I was becoming cleansed and purified. 
 Can you understand this? The happier I waxed the more 
 reconciled I became, and the strife between what I was and 
 what I would be, between my hopes and my calamities, 
 ceased. Self-forgetfulness the road to virtue ! What will 
 you divines say to that ? 
 
 All at once we were thrown into your house, where all is 
 so elegant, so serene, so pure, so affectionate. Tour good- 
 
ROSE TO EDWARD JONES. 207 
 
 ness, Sir, startled me. I dare not be left alone with you. 
 When you spoke, it agonized me. You recalled me to myself. 
 If you had been only good, I believe I should have died, or 
 run away. Anna came to your aid. You were a man. 
 Can a man understand a woman ? Margaret says he can. 
 I have denied it. I needed more than your goodness, I 
 needed sympathy, sympathy with my feelings, my wretch 
 edness, my wickedness even. Could you render it ? I had 
 a woman s need of sympathy ; could any man give it ? 
 Many and painful were the struggles I underwent. Now 
 that I am away from you I can speak more freely and com 
 posedly, as I know you will and must allow me to do. 
 Margaret says my smile bewitched you ; a game it has 
 more than once practised. How fervently have I prayed for 
 a Medusa face ! But it was not that ; it was your kind feel 
 ings that, as of old, " took me in." Then your good minister 
 spoke so discriminatingly and benevolently to me. Truly 
 I can say, never man spake like that man. But could you 
 reach my heart, could you underlie my deepest feelings, 
 could you sustain, heal and assure that which your pres 
 ence animated into painful life ? Let me not disquiet you 
 by questions like these. But I have no alternative ; either 
 I must describe my whole estate, or retreat from you for 
 ever. You, in effect, demand a disclosure, and Margaret 
 urges me to make it in full. I have not seen a great deal 
 of the world, but I have felt enough of it. I have become 
 suspicious of men, not of their motives altogether, or of their 
 wishes, or kindness, but of their moral capability. 
 
 Then, whatever benefit the theatre afforded, I am de 
 riving in a purer manner and larger measure here. All 
 kinds of diversion are at our command. We have purchased 
 horses, and can ride ; we have boats, and can sail ; we have 
 woods and walks. We work, too, weed the garden, drive 
 
208 MARGARET. 
 
 the cow to pasture, feed the poultry, wash dishes and wind 
 spools. We have leisure and books. Beyond this, am I 
 prepared to encounter the world in the particular manner 
 you propose to conduct me to it ? I have left it, I have 
 bade it a long adieu. I will not say I hate it, only I will 
 have nothing to do with it. Margaret, with all that op 
 presses her so sensibly, is still elastic, hearty, luxuriant. 
 She has a great being, and evil floats through her and 
 passes away. I am so contracted and small it all lodges in 
 me and propagates itself through my whole existence. Or 
 at least, so great is her power of self-recupertion, if the 
 whole globe were heaped upon her she would make her 
 way up through it; and not only so, she would assimilate 
 its elements to her nature, and convert its forces to her uses. 
 A cloud that drives me home for shelter against the rain, 
 only enhances the beauty of her Universe. Then her com 
 passion is so quick, and her ministries so gentle, while I am 
 cold and stubborn to the wants or woes of all She, too, is 
 a believer in Christ, which I am not, or at least in the sense 
 that she is. Her faith is life-giving, soul-penetrating, noble, 
 luminous, purifying. Mine, all that I ever had, was a me 
 chanical, artificial, vulgar sort of calculation. I was once 
 converted, indeed ; but I have sadly fallen away. At the 
 best, I am but a poor Christian, truly. Margaret, I know, 
 never sinned. I have sinned day by day. I say not these 
 things to commend her, but to reveal myself. 
 
 Shall I turn to the other more significant, and, so far as 
 this question is concerned, more weighty reflections? the 
 formidable fourth circle, I mean ; a combination of impres 
 sions, characteristics, substances, of not the most auspicious 
 nature. Forgetting yon, I forget that. With you, that 
 revives. It is, I would fain believe, drawing to a diminished 
 d ameter ; its action is reduced, it beats with a less audible 
 pulse. It is a woman s broken heart, a woman s despair 
 
ROSE TO EDWARD JONES. 209 
 
 it is a woman s feebleness, acute delicacy, shrinking sensi 
 tiveness, high sentiment of honor and low consciousness of 
 disgrace, all thrown in together. What would you do with 
 it ? What would it do with you ? What would you do 
 with such a woman ? There is a bird, Margaret says, that 
 crosses sheets of water on the leaves of the floating lily ; 
 can you cross me so? There is anmher bird that refuses 
 to drink of streams and pools, and only catches the drops as 
 they fall from the skies. I have refused to quench my 
 thirst at common sources, and whither shall I look ? Dearest 
 Edward, I must yield to your judgment what I dare not to 
 your love myself. You will have need of strength, as 
 well as affection, if you take me. On your soberest discre 
 tion I can alone rely. Seeing how I am, is it in your power 
 to make me what I should be ? 
 
 How we long for Mr. Evelyn s return ! I am sure Mar 
 garet loves him. When I tell her so, she smiles, and says, 
 " Yes, and Edward Jones, too." But I know she desires 
 my consent to your wishes, and I think she would feel bad 
 ly to have Mr. Evelyn marry abroad ! But what an ad 
 mirable wife she would make you. This, sub Rosa ! Per 
 haps we shall both set up a convent here and feed poor 
 children. Margaret is all there is left me in this world ; 
 and I, who am the whole cause of her sorrows, still live on 
 her bounty. I am a last year s leaf that I have sometimes 
 seen on the beech trees, blanched and dry, still cleaving to 
 the brightness and bloom of her Spring-time. 
 Your very dutiful and truly humble 
 
 ROSE. 
 
 EXTRACT FROM ROSE TO EDWARD. 
 
 Mr. Evelyn has come ! The effect, I am sure, was not 
 small on Margaret. The night before, she did not sleep a 
 
 18* 
 
210 MARGARET. 
 
 wink, for she kept me awake till morning. Pa and Ma, as 
 I call her father and mother, were for fixing up a little, but 
 she would allow no change. She half smiled and half cried 
 by turns ; her face went through all the variations of the 
 prism. Mr. Evelyn had forwarded a kind note, saying he 
 would like to see her alone. She took me with her down 
 the Delectable Way to an old haunt of her s, where she 
 first encountered him. I would have withdrawn, but she 
 held me fast. We heard his horse coming up the hill. 
 " This is a strange feeling," said she ; " is this what you 
 you mean by love, Rose?" She nevjer looked more beauti 
 ful. Her heron s wreath set off her rich dark curls ; she 
 wore a simple muslin ; her expression might have ravished 
 an angel. Mr. Evelyn left his horse and came forward. 
 Hardly could she articulate my name in the introduction 
 By an instantaneous and almost invisible act, their hearts 
 so long one, sealed the unison. I had anticipated something, 
 but I was excited and enchanted. Margaret has fair, wo 
 manly proportions ; Mr. Evelyn is tall, and of so noble a 
 carriage; to see them in that pure embrace, and with such 
 an inter-penetration of soul and spirit, quite overpowered 
 me. Deacon Ramsdill came limping along with one of his 
 queerest of all smiles " Sheer nater ; just so when I was a 
 youngster," said he, and so diverted us from a fit of crying 
 into which / am sure I should have fallen. Mr. Evelyn 
 was then introduced to Pa, Ma, and Hash. He made in 
 quiries after Chilion, which we could only answer with 
 our tears. 
 
 We have sometimes wondered that he never wrote Mar 
 garet, but he says his letters were lost on the way. She 
 showed him some autumnal leaves and flowers she gath 
 ered and has kept in remembrance of him. These were 
 her letters to him, dumb signals, that she preserved in the 
 
MEETING OF MARGARET AND MR. EVELYN. 211 
 
 garret ! She has loved him, I do insist ; but that lively pain 
 of love we girls are so wont to indulge perhaps she has 
 not felt. This may be partly owing such is my solution 
 to the strange, rapid, distressing scenes she has been 
 through since she first saw him. 
 
 Mr. Evelyn has taken the spare room at Aunt Wright s. 
 There is a cause of sorrow in that family, which, I fear, will 
 not soon be removed. Aunt has long had her heart set on 
 Margaret for cousin Obed. This interest did not abate on 
 Margaret s accession to fortune. Though I believe Obed 
 had, if not his hopes damped, at least his ideas of things 
 very much chastened by his trip abroad. The world is so 
 large, and there are so many men in it, I think he had re 
 linquished whatever thoughts he may have entertained of 
 Margaret. In addition, her connection with Chilion has of 
 late inspired him with a secret dread of her. But none 
 of these things availed with his mother, who has rendered 
 herself positively annoying by urging the fulfilment of cer 
 tain promises she says Margaret made in years gone by. 
 However, the matter is settled now, and Aunt, who always 
 taught that a bird in hand was better than two in the bush, 
 freely consented to admit to her house the rival of its pros 
 pects, when she found he would pay handsomely for his 
 board. 
 
 EXTRACT FROM ROSE TO WINIFRED JONES. 
 
 The marriage came off last night. The service was done 
 by Parson Welles, who really seemed to be as happy as 
 the rest of us. How delighted we were to have Edward 
 and Anna here ! There were also present a few other of 
 the select friends of the family. We assembled in the 
 kitchen. It was my office to light up the great fireplace ; 
 
212 MARGARET. 
 
 Edward was master of ceremonies. Mrs. Weeks sent the 
 cake ; there was wine for our friends ; we ourselves have 
 eschewed spirituous drinks. I need not say how some of us 
 were reminded of another night and other scenes. It was to 
 my own eye a scene within a scene, beauty, love and life, 
 haunted by profanity, revelry and death. Deacon Rams- 
 dill was almost beside himself with joy, and Master Elli- 
 man with joy and wine. Mr. Girardeau seems to be very 
 much pleased with the disposition Margaret has made of 
 herself, and Mrs. Wiswall and Bertha think there is nobody 
 like Mr. Evelyn ; so do I, excepting, of course, Edward. 
 
 What can I say of your dear brother, and now my own 
 love ? He is all I wished wished ? all I needed. I shall 
 begin to believe, with Margaret, that love is more powerful 
 than all evil. He risks much in taking me ; not that I am 
 much, but that I am mean. He promises to sustain all my\ 
 feebleness, and repair my defects. He bears me in his own \ 
 arms to the Infinite arms. Through him streams upon my 
 soul the long hidden light of God. The Christ whom he 
 preaches I begin to love and adore. He does understand / 
 my heart, and composing with, uplifts my whole nature into 
 serenity and peace. 
 
 Margaret and Mr. Evelyn are going on a journey ; in 
 the mean time, we clear out the workshop, and fit it up for 
 their return. 
 
 MARGARET TO ANNA. 
 
 Our excursion was rich and blest indeed. In New York, 
 we saw the room where I was born, and the bed, even, 
 whereon my father and mother died. Nimrod was with us 
 and showed us every thing. The clergyman who married 
 my dear parents is dead, but in Baltimore we found his 
 
IN SEARCH OF HER CHILDHOOD. 213 
 
 daughter, who bore me to her father s, and nourished me like 
 a mother. My grandfather s abode, the shop where my 
 mother tended, the room where she slept, were all entered, 
 In one of the cemeteries their graves were shown to us. 
 near that of my grandmother ; the monument bore the 
 names, GOTTFRIED BRUCKMANN, and JANE GIRARDEATJ. 
 My grandfather, when he knew not where I was, became 
 sorrowful on his daughter s account, and had her remains 
 removed where they now lie. My dear, dear mother ! 
 The inscription says she was twenty years old ; so near her 
 poor orphan daughter s age ! New fountains of grief are 
 opened in my soul. I am persuaded the pale beautiful 
 lady of my childhood dreams was none other than my 
 mother. She has watched over her child, she has blessed 
 the earth-wanderer! We went up the Hudson, whither 
 Nimrod and Ben Bolter carried me ; we stopped at the 
 same landing-place ; we found the Irish woman who nursed 
 me, and I was glad to be able to repay her kindness. We 
 went to Windenboro, Rose s -native town, but found little to 
 relieve the impressions that may have occupied us. To 
 our inquiries about their old minister, we received but few 
 warm-hearted replies. The successor of Mr. Elphiston, 
 while he preaches a milder form of dogma, exhibits less 
 benignity of feeling. I hesitated about speaking of, these 
 things to Rose ; but she said she could bear any thing, that 
 that part of herself once devoted to these painful reminis 
 cences, through successive processes of anguish, remorse 
 and penitence, had become hollow. 
 
 We have a manuscript life of my father, done in English, 
 with my mother s correction ; also, in various forms, my 
 mother s handwriting. We possess likewise several 
 letters from Margaret Bruneau to Gottfried Briickmann, 
 and some of his to her, which Mr. Evelyn found in Rubil- 
 
214 MARGARET, 
 
 laud. The clothes of my father and mother, his flute, 
 violin, and several other little things are here. Mr. Evelyn 
 visited the grave of Margaret Bruneau, which he found 
 covered with flowers. Her letters are full of sweet sim 
 plicity and holy love. All whom he saw extolled her 
 virtues. In Pyrmont, he found a brother of my father s, 
 whom we hope to be able to persuade to come to America. 
 Withal, in our travels we heard of a German soldier in the 
 interior of Pennsylvania who served in the same corps 
 with my father. Him also we visited. 
 
 I have been travelling in search of my childhood ! An 
 unknown history opens to me. I have been living here 
 how unconsciously with Ma, who is the cousin of my mother. 
 Yet she has treated me as her own child. I was confided 
 especially to the care of Chilion, whom Nimrod told my 
 mother about. How well he executed his charge ! The 
 change in my grandfather s name, and that of Nimrod, 
 prevented all recognizances for many years. I know not 
 that Ma ever understood the relation subsisting between 
 us. This past, how precious to me ! Hidden events 
 scattered over many years, and many countries, become a 
 part of my biography. It has taken a whole century to 
 give me birth ! Time, like Mother Carey s chickens, bides 
 the blast, rocks on the gulfy wave, bearing her eggs under 
 her wings, which she deposits at length on the broody 
 shore. In me shall these transactions be cherished into 
 life ! Do I deprecate the evil that has befallen me and 
 mine; that shed itself on these by-gone years? Dust 
 sometimes falls with the purest snow, discoloring the face of 
 Winter, but it enriches the growth and enhances the beauty 
 of Spring. Shall I become be-er as a new season of 
 existence opens to me ? 
 
IN SEARCH OF HER CHILDHOOD. 215 
 
 Our house is begun, but it must necessarily move on 
 slowly. We hope to be able to go into it, or some part of 
 it, in the course of twelve or fourteen months. It stands 
 on the Delectable Way, near the Eastern margin of the 
 Pond. It will command a more extensive Western view 
 than we now enjoy, taking in the whole length of the Pond, 
 the Brandon Hills, and Umkiddin Through avenues that 
 we shall cut in the Maples will be seen the Village, the 
 River, the Meadows, the champagne country, and moun 
 tains beyond. At the South will be opened the valley of 
 Mill Brook and the neighboring highlands. The space 
 between the house and Butternut is to be converted into a 
 garden. It is to be constructed of granite, of which an 
 abundance, and that of the finest quality, is found in the 
 neighborhood. We have an architect from New York - 
 
 O 5 
 
 Mr. Palmer from the Ledge is master workman. Of the 
 style I shall say but little, nor repeat the discussions we 
 have had on the subject, nor tell what a world of ideas has 
 burst like a revelation on a rustic girl s mind in the shape 
 of buttresses, wings, bow-windows, verandas, views here, 
 effects there, good old Queen Bess, and what not. Mr. 
 Evelyn knew more of the world, and it was right I should 
 yield to him. His travels abroad have tinged, and perhaps 
 moulded, his taste. It will have, I fancy, a slightly cas 
 tellated appearance ; so at least it looks on paper. It is to 
 be ample in all its appointments. Mr. Evelyn talks of 
 effect, the high grounds, woods, and all that ; entire 
 simplicity he objects to. Without ever giving any reflec 
 tion to the matter, I found Master Elliman had in fact 
 indoctrinated me with a love of the plain Grecian. But 
 not as a dwelling-house, and here, Mr. Evelyn says, only 
 as a Temple or Church. We are to have a room for 
 Music and Art, one for Natural History and Philosophy, a 
 
216 MARGARET. 
 
 Library, Conservatory, Aviary, and all that, and a plenty 
 of rooms for our friends. There are also extensive barns 
 and outhouses. 
 
 We have gained a title to the whole of Mons Christi, by 
 purchasing the complete environs of the Pond, and a 
 square mile of territory on the North and West. We are 
 clearing away woods, and bringing many acres of excellent 
 soil under cultivation. There are nearly one hundred 
 men employed in all departments, and, if you will believe 
 it, I do not think they consume more than three gallons of 
 spirit a day. We are widening and grading the Delectable 
 Way into a carriage road. Pa and Hash have both left 
 off drinking, and are busy and happy as need be. Hash 
 and Sibyl Radney will be married as soon as we shall have 
 finished their house. Hash superintends the farm ; Nim- 
 rod and Rhody are anxious to remove here ; it is his 
 ambitition to take care of the barn and horses. He has 
 become our jockey, and went out lately and made us a 
 purchase of some beautiful Narragansetts, with draught and 
 carriage horses. Master Elliman comes up, stares about, 
 applies his red handkerchief to his nostrils, and the other 
 day frankly confessed there were realities in the universe. 
 People from the Village, Avernus, and all parts, visit us 
 and gaze wonderingly upon our works. Joyce Dooly, the 
 Fortune-teller, was here the other day, with her black cats. 
 Mounting a rock she harangued the people, or, rather, 
 clackered her own merit. She said she had brought about 
 this change, had foretold it all, and seen it in her cats. 
 Rufus Palmer, who is really a genius, is engaged on 
 statuary, from plates Mr. Evelyn brought from Europe. 
 
 Side by side, in the midst of the noise of hammers and 
 the shouting of teamsters, on the beach, in funeral silence 
 lie my canoe and Chilion s fish-boat. His viol hangs in our 
 
THE NEW CHURCH. 217 
 
 room ; unlike St. Dunstan s, it makes no music ! In Nova 
 Zembla, it is reported, men s words are wont to be frozen 
 in the air, and at the thaw may be heard. In a cold grave, 
 and colder world, are all Chilion s sweet melodies frozen. 
 Will they ever be heard again ? 
 
 ******** 
 
 They are building a Church in the village. We fur 
 nished the balance of the subscription for that purpose, and 
 they have adopted a model suggested by Mr. Evelyn. 
 The Church will suit me ; it is pure, that is to say, elegant, 
 Grecian. It is now decided to form a new society, and one 
 with which Mr. Evelyn has connected himself. It is called 
 Christ Church. The house stands on the east side of the 
 Green, under two stately elms, and forms a prominent 
 object from our dwelling. The Free Masons, in full 
 company and costume, laid the corner stone. Deacon 
 Hadlock, the main pillar of the old Church, is inconsolable 
 and inapproachable. Mr. Evelyn went to see him, but he 
 would not be persuaded. We offered them a sum of 
 money towards rebuilding the old Meeting-house, but it 
 was rejected. I need not tell you all the gossip that is 
 afloat between the two societies, or write how our people 
 say the others are endeavoring things to their prejudice. 
 There is probably some wrong feeling on both sides. The 
 Master was here to-day, and said they had several meet 
 ings of the old Church, reported grievances, appointed 
 committees, and ordered an examination of the derelicts ; 
 and finally excommunicated Deacon Ramsdill and Esq. 
 Weeks, and suspended Judge Morgridge and Esq. Beach. 
 He laughed himself into a perfect dry convulsion fit when 
 he told me. " That android sanctissimus," said he, refer 
 ring to the Rev. Dr. Brimmerly of Kidderminster, " is 
 moving. That gentleman," he said, "had held several 
 
 VOL. n. 19 
 
218 MARGARET. 
 
 private conferences with Parson Wells." Reports unfavor 
 able to the reputation of Mrs. Wiswall, who has taken a 
 house in town, of Bertha, and of Rose, too, have reached 
 here, and we are called a harboring place of unprincipled 
 
 persons, a community of 
 
 Deacon Ramsdill was here this afternoon ; he has not 
 been deprived of his good cheer. " They have picked us 
 out," said he, " and thrown us to the hogs. But arter all," 
 he added, " rotten apples are the sweetest." 
 
 MARGARET TO ANNA. 
 
 What shall you think of Edward being our Minister, 
 and Rose our Minister s wife ! On the election, there 
 could have been but one sentiment, as you know there was 
 but one voice. His views and feelings, and the character 
 of his discourses, precluded much disputation. We had 
 some difficulty in the Ordination. A council of Clerical 
 and Lay Delegates, from the County, assembled, examined 
 the candidate and rejected him. Parson Welles, I believe, 
 was at first disposed to have Edward for a colleague, and 
 retain a pastoral connection with Christ Church ; but he 
 was diverted by causes which I do not understand. The 
 Church was reduced to the necessity of adopting other 
 measures. The Rev. Mr. Freeman, of your city, was sent 
 for, and the Rev. Mr. Lovers, of Brandon, who had ex 
 pressed a willingness to aid us. Mr Lovers preached the 
 sermon, and the ordaining prayer, with the imposition of 
 hands, was made by Mr. Freeman. Thus, Mr. Evelyn 
 say?, though Dr. Freeman, who was himself Episcopally 
 ordained, and derives his authority frorri a succession said 
 to remount to the first ages of the Church, we have an 
 
THE NEW CHURCH. 219 
 
 Apostolic Bishop ordained over this Diocese of Livingston ! 
 The nt w spacious house was filled, and many came in from 
 abroad. At the close, the Sacrament of the Lord s Supper 
 was administered to the congregation. / joined in the 
 participation. With what sensations I cannot now relate. 
 Springs of new water welled within me, the soul of Jesus 
 oppressed and charmed my soul. Poor Rose sat by me 
 trembling like a leaf. We have ordered an Organ from 
 London, and I suppose it will fall to me and Rosa to play 
 it, for the present at least. Tony, the Barber, plays the 
 violin for us. He has not touched his instrument before 
 since Chilion s death. How we miss Chilion at every 
 step ! 
 
 Edward and Rose are boarding at Esquire Bowker s; 
 a Parsonage I suppose will be built for them next year, on 
 Grove Street. Rose says the only feeling she has, or of 
 which she is at present capable, is humility ; and that 
 whether she estimates her duties to the world at large, or 
 reflects on the favors received in her own soul. She relies 
 on Edward, who will nourish, renovate and guide her. If 
 she can at all embody the graces, or disseminate the love 
 of Christ, in whom her faith is confirmed, she says she 
 shall be satisfied. She says she is like those trees which fall 
 over on the banks of rivers, and grow root upwards ; but if 
 she only grows, she does not care how. She is fair almost 
 to fragility ; she has at times a most mysteriously spiritual 
 look, like the moon shining through white window curtains. 
 There are those in the Church who truly love her, and 
 will tenderly treat her. In Mrs. Bowker and Isabel 
 Weeks she finds a most according friendship. To Edward 
 she is all in all. How good and great in him to love her 
 so ! Her unnaturalness has gradually subsided, and the 
 sweetness and freshness of her youth begin rapidly to un- 
 
220 MARGARET. 
 
 fold. Christ, that makes us all children, Edward says, has 
 reproduced the morning of her childhood, and she advances 
 to beautiful perfection. She had often been to the Com 
 munion before, she says, but never with such feelings. She 
 ne^ver before realized what our new Bishop said it was, an 
 inter-communing with the soul of Jesus. She is succulent 
 as the Widow s house leek, and would thrive I believe if 
 she were only attached to the shingles of Christ Church. 
 Like the dodder, her rooting in the old world is destroyed, 
 and she now winds about goodness and mercy, which she is 
 destined, I think, ever to adorn. Dear Rose, she has been 
 to me a child, a sister, a lover. She will always be near 
 me can we be too happy ? For all, how much are we 
 indebted to Edward and Mr. Evelyn ! The friendship so 
 long subsisting between our husbands, how delightfully it is 
 consummated ! 
 
 MARGARET TO ANNA. 
 
 Our house is finished, and what has been a long story to 
 us, I shall make a short one to you ; which can be done the 
 more readily, since I hope you will soon come and see all 
 things for yourself. The expense within and without, Mr. 
 Evelyn says, has not been less than one hundred thousand 
 dollars. We have imported some things, not that Mr. 
 Evelyn would not have preferred domestic articles, but 
 many we could not find. Besides, what matters it ? I am 
 made up of all nations, German, French, English, Ameri 
 can ; and it is only dealing with my countrymen, trade with 
 whomsoever I may. You should not have introduced me 
 to your house unless you supposed I was more or less than 
 human. Our plate certainly does not equal yours ; our 
 
THE PANTHEON REVITED. 221 
 
 linen is home made ; our curtains and hangings are very 
 beautiful, thanks to your good taste. Mr. Evelyn brought 
 from Europe a valuable library, fine maps and engravings, 
 and a few choice pieces of sculpture. We have since 
 ordered more of these articles. In addition, Rufus Palmer 
 has been engaged on statuary for us these two years. He 
 is now in Europe, and when he returns, we have promised 
 him, in exchange for his productions, our Isabel ; that is, if 
 they will consent to take up their residence atMons Christi. 
 We have busts of the old philosophers, a copy of the Venus 
 de Medici, Apollo Belvidere, Antinous, Belisarius, a Psyche 
 and Butterfly, a Prometheus and others, and some excellent 
 paintings ; we have a parlor organ, and guitar ; also an 
 excellent set of chemical, philosophical and astronomical 
 instruments. 
 
 At the head of the Delectable Way stand statues of 
 Peace and Truth ; under the trees in front of the house 
 are Faith, Hope, Love and Beauty. Near the Tree-bridge, 
 in the Via Dolorosa, we design to put Penitence and 
 Fortitude. On the Via Salutaris is Humanity, A Ceres 
 has been set up in our cornfield. In Diana s Walk is her 
 own Ladyship with the Golden Bow. My Pantheon, that 
 Mr. Evelyn used to banter me about, still remains, and my 
 bubbles have taken marble forms. Between the Butternut 
 and the old house is a broad opening conducting to the foot 
 of Mons Christi, which we call The Avenue of the Beauti 
 ful. In this is Temperance, pouring water from a goblet 
 into a marble trough. It is supplied from the same spring 
 head that has so long furnished the water of our cistern, 
 and is designed both for man and beast. On it hangs Pa s 
 silver tankard, which he himself put there, the only relic of 
 his former prosperity, and which he is glad to have diverted 
 from its customary use. This water, always a copious 
 
222 MARGARET. 
 
 stream coming down from the highlands above, serves for 
 a fountain in the garden, where its jet and spray may be 
 perpetually seen, and flows thence to our house and barn in 
 quantity sufficient for all needs. 
 
 When we formerly made our escape from Mons Christi 
 to the Ledge, Rufus showed me a figure on which he had 
 been hammering at his leisure, designed to represent me 
 as I was when I found the water ; this he has since com 
 pleted. It is a perfect Molly Hart, in short gown, pinafore 
 and gypsy hat. Ma wanted it put in the old house, but 
 there seemed to be no room for it. We have it in our 
 drawing-room ; and near it are the cherry plate, bowl and 
 spoon I used to eat bread and cider and bean porridge with, 
 and also the wolf s bone knife and fork Chilion made me. 
 
 The old Chestnuts, which were already in deCay, have 
 been cut down, and the bounds of the Mowing enlarged. 
 North of the Mowing is an extensive young orchard of 
 various kinds of choice apples, pears, quinces and peaches. 
 Our Aviary, which is large and well furnished with shrub 
 bery, we intend to stock with native birds. In the Con 
 servatory we have some foreign plants, and shall experi 
 ment more with the domestic. We have a room called the 
 Prophet s Chamber, which our Bishop frequently occupies, 
 and where he writes some of his sermons. In the garden 
 is a large Bee-range. The old house remains as it was, 
 saving repairs. There Pa and Ma live. The loom and 
 wheels have been restored to the workshop, and there sits 
 Ma, in her short gown and naked arms, smoking and 
 weaving us blankets. She cannot be induced to forego any 
 of her old habits. Pa, who never suffered from what the 
 Master would call a cacoethes laboris loves and enjoys his 
 ease. He has made us stout walking shoes, which is the 
 most he has done for a year. On the- chimney are my 
 
HOUSEHOLD ARRANGEMENTS. 223 
 
 marble kitten and flower-pot. About the house still grow 
 my beans, hops, virgin s bower, eye-brights, blood-roots, and 
 other flowers Chilion helped me rear. Chilion s clothes, 
 fishing tackle, gun, powder-horn, shot-bag, occupy their old 
 places on the walls of the kitchen. The suit in which he 
 died, his violin, a partly-finished basket with some partly, 
 finished spools of his, hang in the work shop ; Ma will not 
 allow them to be touched. Some of his hair she has 
 wrought into a finger-ring. Margaret, my peach tree, is 
 dead, but a young Margaret is growing in the same spot. 
 Dick, my squirrel, and my birds are dead, their empty 
 cages hang in the old place. Bull, whose heart, as well as 
 his leg, was broke, when Chilion died, totters backwards 
 and forwards from house to house. So have perished some 
 of the de"ar fellow-fixtures and comrades of my life ! Be 
 yond Pa s, stands Nimrod s house, and a little farther up 
 the way, live Hash and Sibyl. Grandfather, who is exceed 
 ingly interested, and I believe pleased, in all we do, divides 
 his time between us and Aunt Wiswall. Judah Weeks has 
 promised marriage to Cousin Bertha. Speaking of this, 
 reminds me to tell you, that Obed has married Beulah Ann 
 Orflf. Mrs. Evelyn, the good mother of Charles, has also 
 come to Livingston, and lives with us for the present. 
 * * #, , # # # # # 
 
 You inquire what our household arrangements are to be. 
 Our regular family is composed of Mr. Evelyn, myself, 
 Sylvina Pottle and Dorothy Tapley. Then we have more 
 or less of our friends with us a good deal of the time. Mr. 
 Pottle has a large number of children, and at Mr. Tapley s 
 they are very poor, and those people were anxious their 
 daughters should live with us and earn something. Our 
 food is simple ; I never had any other, and what is bred in 
 the bone will never be out of the flesh, as Deacon Rams- 
 
224 MARGARET. 
 
 dill says ; and Mr. Evelyn is not particular. I still enjoy 
 a dish of bean porridge with Molly. I al \vays got up early, 
 and could not easily be taught new tricks. Then I have 
 been out in the air so much I must still be out. We have 
 prayers every morning, and Mr. Evelyn explains the 
 Scriptures to us. We have breakfasted this Summer at 
 six and a half o clock, dined at twelve, and take tea at five. 
 So we are doing at present. Our hired men board with 
 Nimrod and Hash. Ma has woven a working suit for Mr. 
 Evelyn. We have both had our hands full getting the 
 house in order. I look for leisure this winter to read more, 
 and practise music more. 
 
 MARGARET TO AlfNA. 
 
 I must tell you of a delightful change that has come over 
 No. 4. You remember how the place looked the first time 
 you were through it. The people were notorious for their 
 indolence and dissipation ; and their estates were mortgaged 
 to Mr. Smith, who held the inhabitants in fealty and some 
 times harassed them. Mr. Evelyn had their houses 
 repaired and painted, sent men to help clear out their in 
 tervals, planted a row of trees along the street, and had a 
 beautiful statue of Diligence set up at the coiner. He then 
 assumed their debts, and said he would give them no 
 trouble for three years, provided they would pay the 
 interest punctually. He also contributed to a School-house 
 that was erected half way between No. 4 and Breakneck. 
 In six months the Gubtails, with what work they did for us, 
 and hay they brought us, cleared themselves. Mrs. Tapley 
 and Mrs. Hatch wove for us, and Mr. Hatch and Isaiah 
 made our iron work. Old Mr. Tapley, a very sot, has 
 labored unremittingly on his farm. When they had new 
 
PRISON RENOVATED. 225 
 
 door-yards, the girls began to ornament them with flowers 
 and shrubs. We let Dorothy go into the woods two days 
 for this purpose ; and that hamlet has now a truly pictu 
 resque appearance. The people, I think, do not drink any 
 ardent spirits. The Still, that Mr. Smith undertook to 
 rebuild, Mr. Evelyn purchased for a barn, which those 
 people found they needed. Mr. Smith himself, I am told, 
 has amended his habits ; he has at least renovated the 
 exterior of his house. Avernus should rather be called 
 Elysium; God made it a beautiful spot, and man has 
 restored its fallen image. Nor is this effect confined to 
 No. 4; it has reached the village, and is more or less 
 distributed into every part of the town. Our Bishop says 
 Temperance is a Christian grace, and has preached strongly 
 against the Sin of Intemperance. In this he is also joined 
 by Parson Welles, who still preaches in the Town-house. 
 Many have abandoned drinking, and four distilleries have 
 stopped. Mr. Readfield, our new merchant, keeps no 
 ardent spirits, and Deacon Penrose must have found his 
 sales materially lessened. Esquires Beach and Bowker 
 both say their duties, as Justices of the Peace, have greatly 
 abated. Mr. Stillwater has converted his new bar-room 
 into a reading-room, and says his profits are nearly equal to 
 what they were before. On Sunday you will see the No. 
 4 s flocking down to Meeting with a constancy only 
 equalled by their former negligence, in which they were 
 quite of a sort with ourselves. 
 
 At the time they were upon rebuilding the Jail, Mr. 
 Evelyn proposed to the Commissioners if they would 
 consent to an establishment on an enlarged scale, with 
 rooms more commodious, windows more numerous, and 
 better conveniences for warmth in winter, he would bear 
 the additional cost. Judge Morgridge, Esq. Bowker and 
 
226 MARGARET. 
 
 others, thought it would be an excellent plan ; and it was 
 consented to. The building stands a little back from the 
 old site. Each room Mr. Evelyn furnished with a good 
 bed, books, lights, looking-glass, washstand and flower vase. 
 The windows have green blinds, which by a simple con 
 trivance the prisoners can open and shut at their pleasure. 
 The horrors and discomforts of the old Jail 1 have myself 
 too sensibly realized. A new keeper has been appointed 
 in place of Mr. Shocks. At the last Town Meeting the 
 Selectmen were instructed to look after the moral condition 
 of the prisoners. What with the site of the old Meeting 
 house smoothed and grassed, the burnt woods improved by 
 Mrs. Wiswall s house and grounds, a new School-house, 
 new Court-house, Tavern and Jail, the Green has reas- 
 sumed some of its former beauty. 
 
 Christ Church have made choice of three Deacons, 
 Esquire Bowker, Joseph Winston and Comfort Pottle. 
 Deacon Ramsdill was getting old, and Judge Morgridge and 
 Esquire Beach, who have served in that office, thought 
 they had better choose some young men. 
 
 * ******* 
 
 You would sometimes have tempted me to live in your 
 City. But, dear Anna, do you not come under the j> r s- 
 diction of Master Elliman s Puppetdom ? Are you not, 
 measurably, simulacra hominum feminarumque ? "Are you 
 foot-free, tongue-free, soul-free ? The personation of the 
 Theatre seemed to me to be carried through the City ; all 
 were acting, not themselves, but their parts. Perhaps I 
 judge wrongfully. You, I know, are natural and real. 
 But what will you say of Mr. Squarely, Mrs. Modim, the 
 Misses Euphony, and others whom I saw at your house ? 
 I would not do them injustice, and I know I am incompe 
 tent to give an opinion, but how could I live among such 
 
PRISON RENOVATED. 227 
 
 people ? I remember once looking at the sea near the 
 wharves, in January. The water and the cold were in 
 deadly combat. The waves winced, bellowed and agonized. 
 But the cold kept steadily at work, as a spider, and with 
 threads of ice, the Borean monster glued and entangled 
 the whole surface, and soon it lay a sullen, ghastly, adaman 
 tine heap. Such seemed to me to be the strife between 
 fashion and nature ; and such, alas ! it is, Mr. Evelyn 
 Bays, the world over. Give me leave to yawn when I am 
 tired, wonder at what is admirable, knock off chestnuts with 
 a pole, and wear a shoe that fits my foot. I fear the 
 Cacoethes Feminarum is a deeper disease than Obed s 
 elder blows will cure, aud that you will have to take a 
 good many boxes of his nostrum before you are well quit 
 of plague in the vitals. " The whole world belike," says 
 the Father from whom I learn all my wisdom, " should be 
 new-moulded, and turned inside out, as we do hay-cocks, 
 top to bottom, bottom to top." For the present I am con 
 tented to keep away, not from you, Anna, but from what is 
 about you ; and if you push upon me, I shall run as far as 
 there is land-room on the Continent ; and if worse comes to 
 worst, I shall make my expiration in the words of one of 
 old: 
 
 " Discedam, explebo numerum, reddarque tenebris." 
 Have we not here what his grace the Duke of Devon 
 shire might envy ? pleasure-grounds, rich meadows, the 
 embellishment of a full-grown plantation, beautiful lawns, 
 many a paddock. We are in the midst of a royal hunting- 
 ground, packs of hounds are in the neighborhood ; we have 
 plenty of game, and an unlimited right of common, in 
 which, in their season, are excellent wild turkey and gray 
 squirrel shooting ; admirable fox-chases ; a full command 
 of the view, up and down ; a capital kitchen garden ; our 
 
228 MARGARET. 
 
 estate is well watered ; gravel walks intersect our grounds, 
 and lead in all directions. We see live Hippiades every 
 day ; we have a perpetual advowson to the living of Mons 
 Christi, and are subject to no ground rent. For rustic 
 ruins, I can show you an abundance of reverend stumps, 
 garnished with grape vines, and studded with fungus. In 
 Italy are palaces ventilated by windmills ; we resort to no 
 contrivances of that sort. Guianerius, out of my author, 
 recommends the air to be moistened with sweet herb water, 
 and the floor sprinkled with rose-vinegar. We take the 
 air as it comes, wet or dry, hot or cold, and find that blow 
 ing across Mons Christi to be always exhilarating and salu 
 brious. In Summer it is charged with the freshness of the 
 earth, the aroma of woods, the music of birds. In Winter 
 it glitters with health and life. Then we all work, not take 
 exercise, but work. "The Turks," so says Democritus, 
 Junior, " enjoin all men, of whatsoever degree, to be of 
 some trade or other ; the Grand Seignior himself is not 
 excused. Mahomet, he that conquered Greece, at that 
 very time when he heard ambassadors of other princes, did 
 carve spoons." There is some difference, peradventure, 
 between Turks and Christians ! tc Through idleness," con 
 tinues my authority, " it is come to pass, that in city and 
 country, so many grievances of body and mind, and this 
 ferall disease of melancholy so frequently rageth, and now 
 domineers almost all over Europe, amongst our great 
 ones." The ancient Germans plunged idlers into the 
 thickest marshes, leaving them to perish by a death that 
 resembled their own dispositions. Without executioners 
 to expedite the matter, all of that class do so perish now- 
 a-days, nilly willy. Friction is recommended. Think of 
 our farmers, stimulating their skins with flesh-brushes to 
 keep up a circulation ! Nay, verily, we must work. Fowls 
 
ERECTION OF THE CROSS. 229 
 
 do not appear ready spitted, Deacon Ramsdill says, and we 
 must work for them too. The Lacedemonians had such an 
 idea of liberty, they could not reconcile it with any 
 manual labor. One of them, returning from Athens, said, 
 " I come from a City where nothing is dishonorable." 
 Work shall be no disgrace at Mons Christi. 
 
 We have our sports too, hawking, fowling, fishing, riding, 
 berrying. "To walk amongst orchards, gardens, mounts, 
 thickets, lawns and such like pleasant places, like that Antio- 
 chan Daphne, brooks, pools, ponds, betwixt wood and water, 
 by a fair river side, ubi varias avium cantationes, florum col- 
 ores, pratorum frutices, to disport in some pleasant plain, run 
 up a steep hill sometimes, sit in a shady seat," must needs 
 be, as my benevolent author observes, " a delectable rec 
 reation." This is ours. Then there are our in door diver 
 sions, music, dancing, chess and various games. In winter, 
 we sleigh-ride, coast, skate, snowball. No, Anna, let me 
 stay here while I may. 
 
 MARGARET TO ANNA. 
 
 The end of my being is accomplished ! The prophecy 
 of my life is fulfilled ! My dreams have gone out in reali 
 ties ! THE CROSS is ERECTED ON MONS CHRISTI ! 
 Yesterday, the Anniversary of our National Independence, 
 was the event consummated. The sacred emblem was made 
 by Mr. Palmer, from a superb block, of the purest marble, 
 out of his quarry, and is twenty feet high. We met near 
 the Brook Kedron, on the Via Salutaris. There were all the 
 members of Christ Church, the Masonic Corps, and a mul 
 titude of others. I was to lead the procession, supported 
 by Mr. Evelyn ; they had me seated on a milk-white 
 
 YOL. n. * 20 
 
230 MARGARET. 
 
 horse, dressed in white, with a wreath of twin flower vines 
 on my head. Then followed the Cross, borne on the shoul 
 ders of twenty -four young men ; next came the Bishop and 
 wife, the Deacons and their wives, Christ Church members, 
 two-and-two, man and woman ; these were succeeded by 
 the Masons, and the line was closed by the people at large. 
 On the Head was a band of Christ Church musicians, play 
 ing the Triumphs of Jesus, which we got from Germany. 
 We came over the Brook Kedron, traversed what we have 
 made the broad and ornamental Via Salutaris, and entered 
 the Avenue of the Beautiful. At the foot of the hill I dis 
 mounted. By a winding gravel- walk I went up with a 
 trembling, joyous step I went followed by the Cross- 
 bearers. Reaching the summit, I wound the arms and 
 head of the Cross about with evergreens; the young men 
 raised it in its place, a solid granite plinth. Returning, we 
 assembled under the Butternut, in the Avenue of the 
 Beautiful, where Edward made a discourse to the people ; 
 some idea of which I would like to convey to you. 
 
 He had for his text, " God forbid that I should glory, 
 save in the Cross of our Lord Jesus Christ." The Cross, 
 he said, stood to us in two aspects ; first, the end of Christ s 
 life, and second, the burden of his life. Of the first, he said 
 it was the termination of his career, the finale of a distin 
 guished course of mercy and love ; hence, as the finishing 
 stroke of his life, he said it represented his whole life. As 
 the stars and stripes stand for our country, our government, 
 our liberties, our national all, so he said the Cross stood 
 for Christ s all. He said a Christian would glory in the 
 Cross of Christ, as a citizen glories in the flag of his coun 
 try. But more than this, he said the Cross of Christ had 
 a deeper significance than was implied in merely his de 
 cease on Calvary. He said it referred to what transpired 
 
THE GOSPEL CROSS. 23l 
 
 before his death, to events of his personal history and ex 
 perience, in a word, to the burden of his life. He said 
 that Christ bearing hh own Cross, his telling his disciples 
 to take up their cross and follow him, Paul s expression, 
 " I am crucified with Christ," the declaration that " he 
 died unto sin once," all denoted that he underwent a cruci 
 fixion in his lifetime, a crucifixion to the world, to sin and 
 all evil ; that his resistance to the diabolical temptation, his 
 strong crying and tears, his being touched with the feeling 
 of our infirmities, his agony and bloody sweat, were such a 
 crucifixion ; that his watchings, his labors, his deprivations, 
 his rebuffs, the intrigues of his enemies, the desertion of 
 his friends, were a cross ; that meeting evil with good, re 
 pulse with kindness, insults with forbearance, his blessing 
 those who hated him, his grandeur in the midst of what 
 was low, his effulgence in the midst of what was dark, his 
 singleness and sincerity in a period of calculating ex 
 pediency, his advancement, that, overleaping his own, syn 
 chronized with all ages, and squared with an unlimited 
 future, his incarnation of God among sin-possessed men, 
 his attempts at the transfusion of himself into the race, and 
 such things were all a cross. 
 
 He said we bore the cross when we reversed the prac 
 tices of a fallen world and adopted those of the highest 
 humanity, when we shone as lights in the world, when we 
 were blameless and harmless in the midst of a crooked and 
 perverse nation, when we forbore one another in love, were 
 ready to be persecuted for righteousness sake, obeyed God 
 rather than man, put off the old man with his deeds and 
 put on the new man ; and returned blessing for cursing and 
 good for evil ; and so whatever obstacle we overcame or 
 impediment encountered in our progress towards perfection, 
 or in the extension of the kingdom of God in the earth, he 
 
232 MARGARET. 
 
 said was a cross. He said glorying in the cross of Christ 
 would be the selectest ambition of every Christian. We have 
 adopted the Cross, observed he, for our emblem, because it is 
 so good an exponent of Christ, and of our character, pur 
 poses and principles as Christians. In allusion to the green 
 flowering aspect of the Cross, he declared it betokened 
 the Final Triumph, the Conquest over Sin, the destruction 
 of the Evil by the Good ; and also the bloom and lustre of 
 Virtue. While he was speaking, a milk-white Dove from 
 our cot flew and alighted on the top of the Cross. Hardly 
 could we contain ourselves; a most delicious tremor ran 
 through me. The Dove, said he, is the symbol of the sweet 
 love and pure effluence of God ! I cannot tell you all he 
 said ; I repeat his principal topics. That certain unction of 
 his, that holy medium in which his mind moves ; that rosy 
 sunlight of love that tinges the peaks of his thoughts, that 
 creative effect of pure goodness wherein lies his forte all 
 this you will understand better than it can be told. 
 
 After the address, we went into the woods to Diana s 
 Walk and had a collation, when the Lord s Supper was 
 administered to the solemn multitude. Returning, Mr. 
 Evelyn embraced me with tears he does not often weep. 
 Christ has also embraced me with tears, and I too must weep. 
 The heart of the Beautiful One is touched, and what can I 
 do ? I dreamed of him the other night, lying prostrate 
 under the Butternut. His Cross, too, had fallen, and the 
 flowers were withered. " I am a weary," said he, " I have 
 no place to lay my head. I am a stranger in the world, and 
 no one takes me in ; I am sick, and no one visits me. My 
 heart aches, Margaret. My locks are wet with the dews of 
 the night. I was bruised for their iniquities, but they are 
 iniquitous still. From Calvary I have wandered over the 
 earth. From age to age I have been an outcast. My agony 
 
THE GOSPEL CROSS. 233 
 
 in the garden was too true, too real ; I was overshadowed 
 by my destiny. I could not bear the insupportable load. 
 I do not see the travail of my soul. I have come hither 
 to die, Margaret." He leaned upon my arm ; he looked as 
 he does in Moralez s Ecce Homo, stricken with a divine 
 grief and wasting under an inexpressible disappointment. 
 I brought him water from the spring Temperance, and his 
 spirit came again ; his look changed into the Transfiguration 
 of Raphael. I sprinkled water on the cross-leaves, and 
 they revived. Our marble group, Faith, Hope, Love and 
 Beauty, appeared from under the trees, living, and minis 
 tered unto him. He came into our house, I dreamed, with 
 the Sisters, gave a pleased glance at the rooms ; said, " I 
 dwell with them that dwell with me," and vanished. 
 
 Explain to me, Anna, what do these things mean ? Have 
 Christians treated Christ so badly ? You recollect the story 
 circulated when I was in Boston, that the French had torn 
 Raphael s Tapestries from the Vatican, and sold them ; and 
 some one purchasing that which bore an image of Christ, 
 burnt it to ashes, for the gold and silver he hoped to get 
 from it ! Does Christ haunt the world like Fionnulla, the 
 daughter of Lir, sighing for the first sound of the mass-bell 
 that was to be the signal for her release ? Was his light 
 hidden under ground at the time of his death, and does it 
 there burn eternally, like the lamp in the Tomb of Pallas? 
 Tell me, what is the significance of this distress ? Whither 
 has fled the Redemption of Man ? How far are we called 
 upon to submit to an irretrievable order of events? Was 
 Christ done, eighteen hundred years now last past? Were 
 Calvary and Tyburn Hill alike as two peas ? Are the Star 
 Chamber and Faneuil Hall the same ? Is it all one whether 
 I pick strawberries on Mons Christi, or dance a rigadoon 
 in a raree show ? Whether I am a geode or a Milliner s 
 20* 
 
234 MARGARET. 
 
 baby ? Eidepol ! God is one, but man is many, and the soul 
 is none. 
 
 The green-wreathed Cross towers afar. It can be seen 
 from the Green, and beyond the River ; at No. 4, Breakneck, 
 Snakehill, Five-mile-lot; and I presume in half a dozen 
 towns. From my window I see it piercing the clouds, which 
 are its perpetual aureola. The stars shall crown it ; the sun 
 shall stoop to do it reverence. I mean to train over it a 
 Boursalt rose, and in winter drape it with running club- 
 moss. 
 
 ******** 
 
 This Cross has travailed in my soul, Anna ; I could not 
 rest till it had gone forth in substance. We have trimmed 
 the path up the Head with rose-bushes, amaranths, 
 angelicas, thyme, bitter-sweet nightshade, and here and 
 there a thorn. Can you realize how much Christ has been 
 to me ? How much of beauty, goodness, love, peace, hope, 
 light, strength, I owe him ! I do find his yoke easy and his 
 burden light. Even when I knew him not, he blessed me. 
 I could not be more happy if I had my birth in his soul. 
 The Eder Duck of Heaven, he lines the nest of his off 
 spring with down plucked from his own breast. He 
 offered himself for our sins ; he suffered for us. The 
 voluntary Prometheus, he bound himself to the Caucasian 
 rock of humanity, his heart was preyed upon by all the 
 evils of the race. He sympathizes with us. Why is the 
 world so insensible to him ? Venus, bewailing the death 
 of Adonis, changed his blood into the wind-flower. Christ, 
 bewailing the death of man, would have changed his blood 
 into beautiful soul-flowers. But Venus running to the 
 aid of her boy, pricked her foot with a thorn, and that 
 blood changed the white rose into the red. Christ pricked 
 his feet with thorns, the roses of the woods are red, humanity 
 still welters in its blood. 
 
THE NEW TESTAMENT UNVEILED. 235 
 
 To Mr. Evelyn and Edward how much I owe ! They 
 have removed the dross, the dogmatic obscurity and wanton 
 frivolity, that attached to the New Testament ; and made 
 it a luminous, divine book to me. When Mr. Evelyn was 
 in England, this was told him. Lord Northwick had just 
 brought from Italy a picture of St. Gregory, by Annibal 
 Caracci. For some cause connected with the troubles of 
 the times, in order to get possession of the picture, a poor 
 dauber had been hired to paint over it in body-color an 
 imitation of some inferior artist. When it was opened, his 
 Lordship s friends, who had been looking for something 
 admirable, stared in mortified astonishment. " It has got 
 soiled, I see," said his Lordship, " give me a sponge." 
 Whereupon he began to wash the piece, nor had he long 
 done so, when out peeped the head of St. Gregory ; soon 
 the attendant Angels were seen, and in a short time the 
 whole of that magnificent picture became visible. So the 
 Bible has been daubed over to my eyes. I have seen in it 
 not the work of God, but the production of some poor 
 artist. I have turned from it as a miserable travesty. The 
 sponge has been applied; the false colors removed, and the 
 original is inexpressibly beautiful. The Gospels are the 
 Word of Christ, as he was the Word of God. Before the 
 Gospels, Christ was. He shines through them. They 
 stand in him, like the Apocalyptic Angel in the Sun. Mr. 
 Evelyn reads them to us from the Greek, whereby, he says, 
 he has a better sense of them himself and can impart a 
 better sense. 
 
 Come, Anna, come to Mons Christi. Come and see our 
 happiness, come and feel it. I am running over. I wish 
 there was a silver pipe reaching from here to you, such as I 
 once saw let down from the blue sky, that you might draw 
 off and be surcharged like me. I wish from the great 
 
236 MARGARET. 
 
 spring-head of Jesus an aqueduct could be laid that should 
 fill your beautiful Common with fountains ! And, 0, I 
 wish all hearts might become gardens of fountains, like 
 what Mr. Evelyn saw in the Tuileries at Paris. I never 
 feared death. I was never troubled about the hereafter. 
 I have an immortality each moment of my life. I am 
 inundated with ages of bliss. I could die to-morrow, and 
 feel that I had lived forever. I could live forever, and 
 never be sensible of an addition to what I now have. Rose 
 is here, playing one of Beethoven s Waltzes ; it is a jet of 
 music spriting into my ecstasy. My life is hid with Christ 
 in God. The One circumflows and in-heavens us. The 
 Infinite Father bears us in his bosom, shepherd and flock. 
 I feel that all good, beautiful souls live forever. Rose says 
 she begins to feel so too. She brought me a bunch of 
 flowers from the Via Dolorosa ! The birds are jubilating 
 in the woods. I see Pa and Mr. Evelyn at work in the 
 garden. Come and spend the summer with us. I am but 
 a child. I feel only a child s feelings. I lie on the grass 
 and frisk, a mere baby in God s Universe. Come, and 
 you shall instruct me. Let me be Jesus s child ; I ask no 
 more. 
 
 For the nonce, I sign myself. 
 
 MARGARET CHRISTI. 
 
 MARGABET TO ANNA. 
 
 We have a new Cemetery. It lies back of Grove Street, 
 south of Deacon Hadlock s Pasture ; is intersected by the 
 Brook Kedron, and covers part of the wooded slope on the 
 descent of Mons Christi. It possesses a variety of surface 
 and of trees, and the ornaments of walks and shrubbery 
 On either side of the Brook is a willow-shaded gravel path. 
 
A NEW CEMETERY. 237 
 
 When Mr. Evelyn was in Europe lie visited the Cemeteries 
 of Naples, Pisa, and Pere la Chaise at Paris, and here he 
 would reproduce the effect. We cannot imitate all archi 
 tectural and princely forms, but we can do that which 
 pleases ourselves. Several of the citizens have already 
 put up tasteful monuments. Rufus Palmer helps us in this, 
 as in other things, and he has two young men studying and 
 practising with him ; one of whom, Socrates Hadlock, 
 gives excellent artistical promise. Mr. Girardeau has a lot, 
 and to it have been brought the remains of his wife, my 
 own father and mother, his sister Marie, and Raxman. 
 Rose also intends to remove here her father and mother, 
 and sister. The kind Arab wish, " May you die among 
 your kindred," we shall in some sense realize. We have 
 been concerned about Chilion, his dying request we sup 
 posed it impossible ever to execute, and had kept it graven 
 on our own memories. At last, however, we ventured to 
 speak of the matter to the people, and at a full town meet 
 ing it was asked if they would consent to the carrying out 
 of Chilion s wishes. All who spoke answered affirmatively, 
 and if there were any dissenters they kept silence. The 
 plain marble shaft Mr. Palmer first made now stands over 
 his new grave ; on it is his name, CHILION, and underneath 
 are these words, " Here lies one who tried to love his 
 fellow-men," words I know that were near his heart, and 
 are now gone forth to the world. Mr. Smith, when the 
 transfer of graves was made, allowed that Solomon s 
 monument, on which has so long stood the dreadful word 
 "murdered," should be changed for another. The old 
 burial-ground remains ; the ancient headstones, those 
 which are identified, as the spot itself is, with the early his 
 tory of Livingston, keep their primitive places. The Cem 
 etery seems to us mournful and attractive ; an iron fence 
 
238 MARGARET. 
 
 surrounds it, but its gates are always unlocked. With 
 dove-like, Pleiadian melody, the Brook Kedron flows 
 through it. Mr Evelyn has striven to diffuse a taste that 
 prevails in Europe, and already are many of the mounds 
 and lots blooming with flowers. People walk there a 
 great deal, and on the Sabbath it is thronged. It shears 
 death of its terrors, spiritualizes life, and hallows affection. 
 There is a Fountain reaching from Mons Chisti to our 
 Common ! It is fed by the Brook Kedron, and rises in 
 the centre of the Green. It springs by graceful impulses, 
 and breaks into beautiful attenuations. The Green is 
 encircled by great elms, and here is a liquid elm in the 
 midst of them. Mr. Stillwater has changed his Tavern to 
 
 the Cross and Crown. 
 ( * * * * * # # # 
 
 Col. Welch, who left here during the War, has returned. 
 He addressed a letter to Judge Morgridge, the brother of 
 Mrs. Welch, intimating a wish to come back and end his 
 days among his old town s people. At a meeting of the 
 citizens, the subject was considered, and they declared 
 unanimously for his request, and voted moreover to reim 
 burse his expenses hither, repair his house and renovate 
 his grounds. Col. Welch s, the Poorhouse, the Pockhouse, 
 or whatever it be, is ineffaceably associated with my first 
 knowledge of Mr. Evelyn, and with a morbific career of no 
 uncertain character. Mr. Evelyn has said he did not know 
 as he should have ever married me, if he had not first 
 given me the Small Pox. (?) Col. WelchVis a command 
 ing situation, and one of the finest on the Green. His 
 family of sons and daughters, becomes a great acquisition 
 to our circle of friends. 
 
 You are acquisitive of news, Anna, and I must tell you, 
 Caesar Morgridge and Phillis Welch, Tony Washington and 
 
PEACE AND WAR. 239 
 
 Mom Dill, are married ; and Master Elliman is betrothed 
 to Miss Amy ! How this last was brought about I can 
 hardly say ; only it was natural that a matter of thirty 
 years standing should come to a head at last. He told me, 
 laughing, that he was now heir apparent to the tottering 
 throne of Puppetdom, in Livingston. He has long occu 
 pied the sacerdotal office of Parish-clerk, he says, and now 
 aspires to higher degrees in Anagogics. But, soberly, I 
 think my good, fast, tenderhearted, queer old friend has 
 changed somewhat not in his dress, far he wears the same 
 nankeen breeches, shovel hat, fringed vest, tye-wig, as of 
 yore but in his feelings, and interior self. He consents 
 to reality and nature more ; he exhibits a cordial interest 
 in life, men and manners. I am under irredeemable obli 
 gations to him. He instructed me largely in the/orm, but 
 kept me away from the heart of things, the common heart 
 I mean ; and left me wholly to find a heart for myself, or 
 make such a one as I could. This, Mr. Evelyn says, was 
 a great service. 
 
 * * . # * * * # # 
 
 Training-days have provoked a good deal of talk. Their 
 innumerable evils we all felt. Pa, himself, was brought 
 home drunk from a recent muster-field! The question 
 took a serious form among the people. Parson Welles, 
 sensible q the growing scepticism, preached to his, now so 
 small, congregation, in behalf of the practice. This had 
 the effect to deepen inquiry in the general mind. Christ 
 Church members went one day in solemn, mournful pro 
 cession, men, women and children, to their Oracle, the 
 Gospels for such they emphatically are ; they went with 
 as much perturbation of curiosity and weight of concern as 
 ever Athenians did to the Delphian Tripod. " Christ for 
 bids us to kill cur enemies," responded the Bishop, at 
 whose house they met. 
 
24 MARGARET. 
 
 The next training-day, Capt. Tuck, with a speech quite in 
 his vein, threw up his commission. The subaltern officers 
 followed the example of their captain, the soldiers went into 
 no balloting, and the Livingston Company was not. Capt. 
 Hoag said also that his mind had changed. Deacons Pen- 
 rose and Hadlock, with some others, sought to re-organize a 
 band ; but they were too old for such a purpose themselves, 
 and they could not find young men enough even to form an 
 Irish company. General Kingsland, of Dunwich, ordered 
 our people to attach themselves to the Dunwich Company. 
 One or two muster-days passed, and nothing was done. 
 At last the General sent in an armed body, of fifty or a 
 hundred men, to take our people to Dunwich, without fail. 
 In workshops, mills, farms, offices, the citizens continued 
 their ordinary pursuits. These soldiers dispersed them 
 selves in all parts of the town. I was riding in the 
 Meadows, when they came there. Several of our people 
 were at work, and among them Judah Weeks, who was 
 mowing. " Don t you intend to go with us ? " said the sol 
 diers. " I am very busy," replied Judah, " I could not 
 possibly go to-day, neither do I care to at any time." " I 
 am empowered to force you," said one of the troop. " Very 
 well," replied Judah, and continued his work. The soldier 
 seized him by the collar, but Judah, who is very strong, 
 still kept his scythe swinging, until he had drawn the other 
 one or two rods into the grass. " I will shoot you if you 
 don t obey." "That is it, hey?" answered Judah. 
 " If I am to die, I wish to do so with my wife and child. 
 Call Bertha, some of you," he said to the people who began 
 to flock around. His wife and child were brought. " Now 
 I am ready," said he. The soldier raised his musket, and 
 lowered it. I know not that he had any intentions of 
 shooting. The soldiers went off, and Judah resumed his 
 
PEACE AND WAR. M l 
 
 labors. We next encountered them carrying a young fel 
 low who proved to be my old pupil, Consider Gisborne. 
 Four of them had him by his arms and feet. He kicked 
 lustily, and got away. 
 
 An affair occurred at the Mill, of which there have 
 been several accounts. I will give you the version we 
 received from Captain Tuck himself. General Kingsland, 
 in person, a Captain and Lieutenant, all in field costume, 
 went to the Mill, and sent in a message that they had 
 express business with Capt. Tuck. The Captain, going to 
 the door, told them he was much hurried, that all his stones 
 were running, and several people were waiting for their 
 grists ; and politely asked them in. However loath, they 
 dismounted, entered the building, and followed the Captain, 
 who was actively employed, from hopper to hopper. The 
 place was swarming with meal-dust, which presently found 
 lodgment on their plumes, blue coats and sashes. The 
 General became uneasy and urgent, the Captain replied 
 that he was very busy, and at the same time demonstrated 
 the nature of his engagement by emptying a meal-bag, from 
 which fumed up any quantity of the line white effluvium. 
 Whereupon, in the words of Captain Tuck, " the General 
 and his forces made a precipitate retreat." Sprinkled 
 with flower from crest to spur, they mounted their horses, 
 and by most private ways withdrew from Livingston, The 
 Captain vaunts himself much on what he calls his ruse de 
 guerre ; and declares that meal-powder is more effective 
 than gunpowder. 
 
 We are menaced with fines, but our people say they had 
 better pay them than train. Indeed, a levy was made, 
 some property put up at auction, but no bidders appeared. 
 However, the whole matter is to be carried before the 
 
 VOL. II. 21. 
 
242 MARGARET. 
 
 State Legislature, and we are looking forward to their 
 action with no small solicitude. 
 
 The world rattles about us, like woodpeckers in the for 
 est. If any thing rotten or defective can be discovered, 
 well for us, we will have it cut down. I have certified my 
 self of the meaning of that very anagogical word, tl world ; " 
 it signifies any thing that is not Livingston, or out of Christ 
 Church, or below Mons Christi. We, means us, and they, 
 them. How very pleasant to be brought, plump up against 
 the fence of the not-you ! By being ourselves, we have 
 developed another being, quite as long and as broad, and 
 inclined to pugilism withal. I used not to be, and nobody 
 else was. Mr. Evelyn first scared me with this idea of 
 " the world." But our world grows larger every day, 
 and I lack not for company, though there grows paripassu. 
 How will either come out in the end ? 
 
 Some of our people walk carefully as birds on ice. 
 Soon, I trust, they will find the earth, or wings wherewithal 
 to leave it. How good a thing it is, in all our doubt and 
 uncertainty, that we have an oracle to which we can 
 appeal, 1 mean the Gospels. In the wreck of so much that 
 is excellent, why have they not perished also ? When the 
 Persians destroyed the Temples of Greece, they did not 
 dare touch that of the Isle of Delos, it was so sacred. Has 
 the extreme value of these books saved them from pillage ? 
 Therein, through the vices of men let me discern their 
 virtues. 
 
 MARGARET TO ANNA. 
 
 Our Sabbaths are delightful days ; they always were to 
 me, because I did not go to Meeting ; now, because I do 
 go. They were ever liberty, rest, and recreation to me, 
 
THE NEW SABBATH. 243 
 
 now they bring a higher spiritual enjoyment. We go to 
 Church, forenoon and afternoon, and sometimes dine in the 
 Village at the Bishop s, or elsewhere. In summer we 
 walk, in winter ride. We all go, Pa, Ma, Hash and Nim- 
 rod, with their families, and whoever is living with us. 
 There is a mellowness about the sky and air, that day, 
 which is all the difference I perceive. People tell me what 
 a drearily solemn day the Sabbath used to be. " It was a 
 despit pinched up sort of a time," said Mrs. Whiston to me 
 a while since, " as if God was asleep and we had to go tip 
 toe all day, and couldn t speak above our breath for fear 
 of waking him." We all carry flowers to Church, not 
 quite so extravagant a bunch as I once got a rebuke for. 
 
 The death of Deacon Hadlock, and the infirmities of Par 
 son Welles, have quite thinned off the old society, and Christ 
 Church includes almost the whole town. Indeed, the old 
 parson himself, with such of his flock as chose to accompany 
 him, was at our Church a few Sabbaths since. Zenus Joy 
 is our chorister, and Dorothy Tapley, who has fine musical 
 powers, plays the organ. One half of the hymns are sung 
 by the whole congregation ; this, Deacon Ramsdill says, is 
 as it used to be, and so the old folks are pleased, and the 
 young ones too. The Feast of the Lord s Supper occurs 
 every month. 
 
 Our Communion days are so Christ-giving, so abounding 
 in what some are wont to call soul-food, so contributory to 
 the Divine Atonement, they seem almost the best days. 
 We all eat that bread and drink that wine whereby we 
 mean to show the Lord s death until he come ; that is, as 
 the Bishop instructs us, until Christ perfectly comes in our 
 souls, and over the earth. Many of the children are com- 
 munionists; the excellent teaching of the Sunday school 
 prepares them for this higher Church order. At noon, the 
 
244 MARGARET. 
 
 people go into the Cemetery and eat their dinner on the 
 seats near the Brook Kedron. At night, scores, and some 
 times hundreds, come to Mons Christi, visit the Cross, walk 
 about the grounds; sometimes they come into our draw 
 ing-room, where we have religious conversation, and sing 
 hymns. How much there is in the religion of Christ to talk 
 about, and I have become as sanctiloquent as any of them. 
 That word Love, of which St. John says he who has it 
 dwells in God and God in him, how much there is in it! 
 It has already given us a new Heaven and a new Earth, 
 and goes on creating stars, nebulae and milky ways, with 
 out number. It would astonish you, Anna, to hear some 
 whom you would consider most jejune and sterile, talk. 
 The graces of the Spirit, joy, love, peace, goodness, have 
 thrown up tropical islands in these wastes of brine. 
 
 I shall have many things to tell you, more than I can 
 write. Last Sunday, Obed brought his child to be bap 
 tized. It received the name of Bartholomew Elliman ! 
 The Master and the Widow, I understand, have made 
 peace, or suspended hostilities. The Master promised an 
 annuity to the child if it should be called after him. Frank 
 ly, Anna, I must confess, the Widow is the most purely 
 selfish woman I have ever heard of. Some would get 
 drunk, some were bigots, they were fanatical or intolerant, 
 but all had a spice of honesty at the bottom. But she is a 
 hypocrite at the core. She has given me some trouble, and 
 done me some good, perhaps ; for which all thanks. An 
 ambitious avarice has been her ruling passion. Will you 
 believe it, the day of the erection of the Cross, when we 
 were having the sacrament in the woods, she was there, 
 so they say, her pockets filled with the Nommernisstortum- 
 bug, and endeavoring to truck with people. Nimrod never 
 could endure her ; he always said she followed church-going 
 
THE NEW SABBATH. 245 
 
 the same as blackbirds do the plough, to pick up the 
 worms. The Bishop has had a sober talk with her, as 
 every good Christian should do. And this admonishes me, 
 that I, perhaps, am somewhat at fault in what I say. I 
 have dealt too roundly with her. Words do so cover the 
 whole field of our vision while the object shall go half 
 naked. He says she has some in corrupt nature, that she is 
 not wholly dead in the old Adam, sin ; and declares that 
 Christ may yet make her live. He says Christ and the 
 Gospels are sufficient to destroy any amount, and any in 
 veteracy of evil in the heart. If the Leech can be touched, 
 we must all believe so too. 
 
 The Bishop says the Gospel must find something in our 
 natures similar to itself before it can take effect ; the roots 
 feel their way into the earth in search of nutriment, homo 
 geneous and corresponding, each root for itself, that of 
 wheat for one substance, and that of sorrel for another ; so 
 lie says the Gospel feels its way into the heart. As music 
 addresses and develops the musical sentiment, so evangel 
 ical love and truth address and develop the sentiments of 
 love and truth. In this way he acts ; he gains access to 
 the heart, makes sure that the floor will hold him ; then 
 commences an onslaught on the unclean spirits, drives 
 them out, with old Adam at their head ; brushes away the 
 dust and cobwebs of meanness ; opens the shutters, and lets 
 in the light of God and the clear shining of the Sun of 
 Righteousness. Such are many of the wonders God hath 
 wrought by him in Livingston ! Can he succeed with the 
 Widow ? In all countries moss grows, the ice-bolster 
 ed rocks of the Arctic are green and soft with it. There 
 the merganser spends its summer, the snowbird rears its 
 young, and our own robin sings. Shall we despair, then, 
 of these temperate regions ? When our troops went to the 
 21* 
 
246 MARGARET. 
 
 attack of Louisburg, Whitfield gave them this motto : " Nil 
 desperandum, Christo Duce ; " an admirable one for our 
 own flag. 
 
 I am forgetting, like many other sinners, the Sabbath. 
 It is the Lords day to us ; in the most exalted sense, it is 
 Christ s own day. All days are holy, this seems to be the 
 cream of the week. On the spiritual river where we would 
 ever sail, the Sabbath opens into clearer water, and broader 
 bay ; and we can rest on our oars to get a distincter view 
 of the blue heavenly hills whither we tend. Is it not a good 
 thing, this hebdomadal renovation of the skin and clothes ? 
 You know the old saw : " Cleanliness is next to Godliness." 
 Our Bishop preaches on cleanliness, carnal and spiritual ; 
 and if it be a true sign, I think you would count us a very 
 godly people. Houses, rooms, yards, fences, streets, as well 
 as persons, in all parts of the town, look wonderfully clean, 
 neat, tidy ; No. 4 would grace Hyde Park. You would also 
 see, on the Sabbath conspicuously, greater simplicity in 
 dress; there is taste and some ornament; but "gaudy ap 
 parel" has almost entirely disappeared, "as unbecoming 
 those who profess Godliness." That transition in fashion 
 with which a foreign connection so afflicts your city, is here 
 neither frequent nor abrupt. In an intermixture of styles 
 from one season to another, the variety is not sufficiently 
 marked to prevent our wearing out the old without disquiet, 
 or adopting the new at convenience. 
 
 **** 
 
 The other night, at a party at our house, Deacon Bow- 
 ker danced with Miss Amy, I should say, Mrs. Elliman ; a 
 thing she never consented to before in her life. Col. Welch 
 said he was falling into his second childhood, by renewing 
 his youth, sooner than he anticipated. A dance on cold 
 water he pronounced strange, but excellent. Deacon 
 
ALL SUSCEPTIBLE OF TRUTH. 247 
 
 Ramsdill declared that he should live an hundred years. 
 * It s sheer nater," said he, " it is just like soap, the longer 
 you keep it, the better it grows." If Chilion could only 
 play for us ! William Beach proves a first-rate violinist, 
 so does Abiah Tapley. 
 
 We make much of music, and it does well by us. I wish 
 to see unfolded and imbodied the entire musical capability 
 of the wn. We have an instrumental company, called 
 The ilion Band. They play on the Green, Summer 
 evenings, and in the Cemetery ; they have gone to Break 
 neck, Shakehill, and all parts of the town. They frequent 
 ly come to Mons Christi, play in our groves, and on the 
 Head. The effect of this last is indescribable. It reaches 
 the village, and the inspiring melodies, like morning 
 light, irradiate over wood, valley and mountain. Mr. 
 Evelyn has written some Christian Hymns, very beautiful, 
 and combining some lyric fire. These hymns you will 
 hear in many a house, in the fields, and the children sing 
 them at school. 
 
 Our schools are doing well. There were formerly but 
 two in town, we have now six. Hancock Welles, grand 
 son of the Parson, after he left College, was engaged for a 
 permanent teacher in the Grammar School, for which a 
 new and commodious house was erected on the Green, in 
 place of the one that was burnt. 
 
 MARGARET TO ANNA. 
 
 We have digested and adopted a system of Christ 
 Church Festivals. Mr. Evelyn observed the extent and 
 influence of these things in the Old World, and, after due 
 sortings and shiftings, we thought something of the kind 
 might be produced in the New. The idea, he insists, is a 
 
248 MARGARET. 
 
 good one, but the manner in which the thing has been 
 managed is open to reprehension. Festivals, he says, 
 have been instituted by Kings and Popes, for Machiavel 
 lian purposes, or any other than Christian or human ; that 
 they have never been the offspring of a free and enlight 
 ened mind, but either the enforcements of arbitrary power, 
 or the expedients of priestly art. Christ-Church Festivals 
 have at least this merit ; the people were cognizant of their 
 incipiency, assisted in each step of their progress, and gave 
 their suffrages to the entire plan. Ecclesiastical Holidays, 
 Mr. Evelyn says, are also open to exception in their sub 
 jects. Why should we observe the Purification of the 
 Virgin Mary, St. Michael s day, or Ash Wednesday ? Or 
 why, neglecting more affecting and spiritual events, should 
 we make use of the Circumcision of Christ ? We cannot, 
 of course, with the English Church, keep the Gunpowder 
 Plot, and King Charles s Martyrdom. Our Festivals are 
 twelve in number, one for each month of the year. Three 
 of them are such as have already become national, or at 
 least New England, the Spring Fast, Independence and 
 the Autumnal Thanksgsving ; three more are founded on 
 the Beatitudes, and are named as follows : the Festival of 
 the Poor in Spirit, of the Peacemakers, and of the 
 Pure in Heart. There is the Festival of Charity, or 
 Christian Love, from 1 Cor. xiii. Then from the life of 
 Christ are Christmas, drawn from his birth, etc ; Child- 
 mas, which refers to his holy Boyhood and Youth ; the 
 Festival of the Crucifixion, which comprises his strong cry 
 ing and tears in the flesh, his temptation, his bearing his 
 Cross, his agony in the garden, and his death ; that of the 
 Resurrection, which includes his transfiguration, his spirit 
 ual anastasis, his being the Life of the soul, and his rising 
 from the dead. Then we have the Festival of Universal 
 
CHRIST-CHURCH FESTIVALS. 249 
 
 Brotherhood, taken from Christ s interview with the 
 Samaritan woman, and the Declaration of Paul, that in 
 Christ all are one. We have also twelve other Festivals, 
 in the monthly recurrence of the holy Communion. Our 
 Bishop has also prepared a system of Sabbaths, which he 
 pursues with tolerable regularity. He has given us, Bap 
 tismal Sunday, founded on Christ s Baptism ; Children s 
 Sunday, his blessing the little children ; Unity Sunday ; 
 Atonement Sunday " that they may be one in us ; " Re 
 generation Sunday " except a man be born again ; " Re 
 pentance Sunday, etc., etc. 
 
 Christmas, if you please, leads the signs in our Evan 
 gelical Circle, is the beginning of the Christian year; this 
 falls in September ; the Pure in Heart, in October ; 
 Thanksgiving, in November; the Festival of the Universal 
 Brotherhood, which also includes All Saints, is given to 
 December. In January is the Peacemakers, when we 
 decorate the Church with evergreens, have the Lion and 
 Lamb symbolized, and make our endeavors for private and 
 universal Peace. We seek forgiveness and proffer restitu 
 tion. To February, the Poor in Spirit is assigned ; the 
 Crucifixion to March ; and in April is Fast. May gives us 
 Childmas, which is peculiarly for the children ; June, the 
 Festival of Love; July, Independence social, political 
 mental, religious ; this is also the Anniversary of the 
 Erection of the Cross. The year closes in August, with 
 the Resurrection. 
 
 The time of Christmas was changed for the following 
 reasons ; that the month and season of our Saviour s birth 
 are not known ; that the 25th of December, the Calendar 
 day, is of Gentile origin, not an insuperable objection, provid 
 ed it were recommended by any intrinsic propriety. But 
 this is not the case. The Festival to which that day refers, 
 
250 MARGARET. 
 
 obtaining among Northern nations, is only adapted to a 
 Northern latitude. The sun s annual return, which they 
 were wont to celebrate, gave them a cause of gratulation at 
 the expense of their trans-equatorial brethren, who at the 
 same moment were mourning its withdrawal. Such an 
 arrangement would not be cosmopolitan and universal 
 enough for Christ-Church. Therefore we selected an 
 equinoctial point, when it shines with the same strength on 
 all portions of the globe. So far as Livingston is concerned, 
 there were few or no preexisting Ecclesiastical prejudices 
 to be affected, and the people were at full liberty to select 
 what time they chose. This Festival with us is not taken 
 up solely with the Birth of Christ, it contemplates in ad 
 dition his Second Coming, i. e. his spiritual revelation in 
 the hearts and lives of his disciples. So looking both 
 backward and forward, it may well occupy some central 
 point. On most of our Festivals, there is a short religious 
 exercise in the Church. The Poor in Spirit is a season of 
 sober introspection, humility and prayer. The Crucifixion 
 has for its objects to effect within us a crucifixion to the 
 world and of the world to us. We become truly partakers 
 of the sufferings of Christ, his temptation, his reproach, his 
 cross-bearing, his dying. Childmas, in May, gives several 
 holidays to the children. They have a May-pole, May- 
 dances, and a Queen of May. They go into the woods for 
 evergreens and flowers. In the evening the Band play for 
 them, and they dance with their parents on the Green. 
 You will see them going down in the morning, from 
 Breakneck and Snakehill, blithe as the birds ; the girls 
 dressed in white, and the boys in blue-checked linen. This 
 Festival is also devoted by the people at large to orna 
 menting the streets, replenishing the flowers of the Ceme 
 tery, and planting shrubbery about their houses. Indc- 
 
CHRIST-CHURCH FESTIVALS. 251 
 
 pendence day, the 4th of July, we have an Oration, a rural 
 dinner and a dance in the evening at the Masonic Hall. 
 This is a superb room, over the Town House, which the 
 Masons have freely relinquished to our use whenever we 
 want it. They always unite with us in keeping this 
 Festival. The Resurrection, in August, seeks to realize 
 for us that spiritual resurrection from sin which St. Paul 
 strove to attain, and which Christ so perfectly enjoyed. It 
 also looks to the final elimination of the spirit from the body. 
 The Festival of Love in June would advance us in that 
 love which thinketh no evil, beareth all things, is the bond 
 of perfection, the seal of our being born of God, and fulfils 
 the law. The Pure in Heart, among other things, is de 
 voted to a general School visitation. The School-houses 
 are filled with parents and friends ; the scholars examined, 
 and addresses made. The election of the May Queen is 
 made to turn somewhat on these examinations. She who 
 received the crown this year was Belinda, daughter of 
 Zenas Joy. Peacemaker s day, coming the first of January, 
 is supplied with whatever of interest attaches to that epoch. 
 Thanksgiving is observed agreeably to immemorial New 
 England usages, bating the Turkey-shoot at No. 4, and 
 Horse-racing ; the Ball at Mr. Smith s has been supplanted 
 by a general dance at the Masonic Hall. Our Festivals 
 are not put by for Sunday, but when they fall on that day, 
 which not infrequently happens, the Bishop prepares dis 
 courses accordingly. Thus is the whole year interwoven 
 and girded about by these beautiful occasions; some of them 
 exceedingly joyous and gay, others more sedate and re 
 flective. What Herbert says of them I dare not ; 
 " Who loves not you, doth in vain profess 
 That he loves God, or Heaven, or Happiness." 
 
 Yet we do love them, and that, because we love God and 
 Happiness. 
 
252 MARGARET. 
 
 The sectaries have sought to introduce themselves among 
 us. Our Bishop freely offered them his pulpit, but they 
 refused to occupy it; he proposed exchanges that were 
 declined. They would not join in our Communion, al 
 though the emblems are tendered to all who love the Lord 
 Jesus Christ. They kept aloof from our festivals. We 
 have all been baptized, and nearly two hundred the Bishop 
 has immersed. What could they want ! They came one 
 night, nearly forty of them, preachers and all, from Duri- 
 wich to Snakekill. The superintendent of the Schools in 
 lhat District had orders to open the School-house to them. 
 The Bishop, Mr. Evelyn, Deacon Bowker and several went 
 up ; the room was full. The Bishop remarked we should 
 be glnd to hear any thing they had to say, and hoped they 
 would express themselves freely. One began to speak but 
 he appeared embarrassed and stopped. Then one of their 
 leaders fell upon his knees saying, " Let us pray," and pray 
 he did, nearly half an hour, and with stentorian voice. 
 Such a prayer may it never be my lot to hear again ! He 
 argued with us, philippized us, denounced us, and as 
 Nimrod said, "whipped us over the Almighty s back!" 
 Has the Prince of Puppetdom in reserve a more horrid 
 piece of drollery ? Deacon Whiston could not contain him 
 self ; like Elijah of old he mocked them, and said, " Cry 
 aloud, for he is a god ; either he is deaf, or is talking, or is 
 on a journey." " There is no voice, nor any that answer- 
 eth," added the Bishop. The effect was irresistible. The 
 meeting was broken up, and those most misguided people 
 mounting their horses made all haste to depart. 
 
 They would convert us from what? Christ himself! 
 To what, in the name of all that is good ? To John 
 Wesley, or John Calvin ! They would save our souls. 
 
CHRIST-CHURCH FESTIVALS. 253 
 
 These are already saved, or at least Christ is doing that 
 work for us hour by hour. They have been in various 
 parts of the town endeavoring to ply the ridiculous enginery 
 of God s wrath and eternal damnation. They are eighteen 
 hundred years behind the age, our Christian age at least. 
 As Nimrod says, they " are barking up the wrong tree." 
 I have no grudge against these people. Some of them 
 have excellent private qualities. Whatever there is of the 
 Christian in them I like, and there we and they agree, and 
 that ought to be a common foundation broad enough for us 
 all to stand upon. But the Ism is the difficulty. This 
 governs their action, this they would thrust upon us. Their 
 Ismaticalness conceals and extrudes the Christian. We 
 meet them as Christians, they meet us as Isinatics. It is 
 Christ versus Isms. Which shall prevail ? 
 
 Lycurgus forbade the entrance of strangers into Laconia, 
 and the departure of his subjects. He was afraid of con 
 tamination. The gates of Livingston are ever open, come 
 in, go out, who will. "The Lord encampeth round about 
 them that fear him," was our Bishop s text last Sunday. 
 We have thus far been delivered from serious evil. We 
 are not afraid of the world, only the world must expect to 
 get most condignly meal-powdered, if it undertakes mischief 
 against us. We have in Livingston, nine hundred members 
 of Christ-Church, bold hearts, true hearts, completely clad 
 in the armor of God, ready for any battles of the Lord ; and 
 equally ready to die at the stake, if needs be. " If the 
 Lord were pleased to kill us, he would not have received a 
 burnt-offering at our hands, and showed us all these 
 things," our Bishop says. " Cursed cows have short 
 horns," Deacon Rarnsdill says. And plantain thrives best 
 when it is most trod upon, that I know. Pray for us that 
 we may be able to go safely through all fiery trials. 
 
 VOL. ii. 22 
 
254 MARGARET. 
 
 It is related that the Cyclops for their savageness and 
 cruelty were condemned to Tartarus ; but that Tellus, the 
 Goddess of the Earth, persuaded Jupiter it would be for 
 his interest to employ them in forging thunder-bolts, and 
 other instruments of terror with a frightful and continued 
 din of the anvil. When I call to mind certain kinds of 
 preaching I remember to have heard, and which I am told 
 every where abound, I reflect that Christ banished all such 
 things from his kingdom ; but the gods of this lower world 
 have persuaded themselves it would be for the interest of 
 the Supreme to have these Cyclops recalled, and our 
 pulpits are full of their din ! Where, alas ! where is the 
 sweet, gentle, loving voice of Jesus, a voice that would not 
 lift itself up, nor cry, but did sometimes weep ? 
 
 The Preacher, he whom I first heard in the words some 
 years ago, acts singularly. He hovered about Livingston, 
 peeping in upon us, and then running away. He said he 
 believed the Latter Days were come ; then he hid himself 
 in the woods, and nobody heard from him for a long time. 
 At last he came to the village, is now an attentive waiter on 
 our Bishop s ministrations, and says he is resolved to be 
 come a Missionary, and disseminate the principles of Christ 
 
 Church in the world. 
 
 * ******* 
 
 We have had various sorts of people among us within 
 two or three years, and with an equal variety of motives ; 
 Congregationalists, Presbyterians, Episcopalians, Catholics, 
 Armenians, Russians, Greeks, Jews, Mohammedans, Hin 
 doos. The latter were foreigners, gentlemen travelling the 
 world in pursuit of knowledge. We had most of them at 
 our house. What should happen one Sunday, but that a 
 venerable Presbyterian Doctor of Divinity, a Jew, and a 
 Mohammedan, sat in the same pew in Christ-Church, and 
 
SECTARIAN DISTINCTIONS VANISH. 255 
 
 as it was Communion day, they all partook of the Sacra 
 ment together, and after service, came to Mons Christi in 
 company ! The Doctor remarked he had always preached 
 faith in Christ, and the regeneration of our natures, " but I 
 declare," said he, " I never understood these things before, 
 or saw them so happily exemplified." The Jew said, 
 laughing, if it were not for our pig-pen, he believed he 
 should be a Christian. The Mohammedan published an 
 account of his travels, and from Teheran, in Persia, I 
 received a copy done in Arabic. We taxed our wits, and 
 at the same time gratified our vanities, in translating it. 
 The chapter on Livington would amuse you. The author has 
 even given a description of me ! This is a precious tidbit, 
 and I shall not endanger it by committing it to the post- 
 rider. You shall see it, when you visit us. One of the 
 Hindoos there were two of them in company, and Brah 
 mins, I believe said he would leave with us words from 
 their sacred books ; as follows. " Truth, contentment, 
 patience, mercy, belong to great minds." " A man of 
 excellent qualities is like a ilower, which whether found 
 among weeds, or worn on the head, still preserves its 
 fragrance." An Episcopal Bishop was here, and he said 
 that sooner than deny the Apostolic authority of our 
 Bishop, he would forego his own. He said this to us, but 
 whether he wished it to go abroad to the world, is more 
 than I know. Such are some of the pleasant records of 
 visits we have had. That other things of a very different 
 nature have been said and done, I cannot deny. But I 
 should tire you by reporting all the evil there is in the 
 world, or the want of love which many betray who come 
 here. " Father, forgive them, they know not what they 
 do ! " What a prayer was that ! Let us aspire to it. 
 Here is another affair for you. One day there came to 
 
256 MARGABET. 
 
 our house a gentleman with a letter from his Holiness Pope 
 Pius VII. addressed to us as his dear children, and recom 
 mending to our care the bearer and his objects. The 
 bearer was a Roman Cardinal, and his objects thus ap 
 peared. He said the Pope had learned that we had erected 
 the Cross, and that he hoped to find us obedient children o* 
 the Holy Catholic Church. We told him we belonged to 
 that Church. He said he hoped to effect our affiliation 
 with the Roman Catholic Church. We told him that we 
 fellowshipped all churches in which was the spirit of Christ, 
 and that so far as the Roman Church possessed that, we 
 were happy to belong to it. He then said something about 
 allegiance. " What," said Mr. Evelyn, " to Pope Pius ? " 
 " Not exactly that," replied the gentleman. " To the 
 Council of Trent ? " persisted Mr. Evelyn. u I perceive I 
 have made a mistake," said the gentleman, and making a 
 very polite apology started to leave. " Give our sincere 
 respects to the Pope," said Mr. Evelyn, " tell him we pay 
 him the allegiance due to him, that contained in the 
 Apostolic direction to honor all men. If he should come 
 this way we hope he will give us a call." The Cardinal 
 had not reached the door when an Armenian Prelate was 
 announced from Syria. He said he understood we were 
 Monophysites, and wished to ascertain if we were not a lost 
 branch of their Church established in this country centuries 
 ago. While he was yet speaking a Patriarch of the Greek 
 Church came in. He said he had been told we denied the 
 Procession of the Holy Ghost from the Son, and hoped to 
 find us identified with his order. Presently we had them 
 all three seated and pleasantly talking together. We sent 
 for our Bishop, and they all dined with us. The Greek 
 made the sign of the cross with three fingers, the Armenian 
 with two, and the Catholic with his hand indiscriminately. 
 
THE CONDITION OF LIVINGSTON. 257 
 
 We took them in our carriage to the village and about the 
 town. They passed the night at our house. Having other 
 friends with us, we could not give them each a room ; and 
 the Roman Cardinal and Greek Patriarch slept in the same 
 bed ; an event, Mr. Evelyn said, that had probably not 
 happened since the year 1054, when Pope Leo X. and the 
 Patriarch Cerularius excommunicated each other. At 
 devotions in the morning, the Greek read the hymn, the 
 Armenian read the Scripture, and the Catholic made the 
 prayer. They left us, and we have heard nothing from 
 them since. I hope when these gentlemen reach home 
 they will not suffer, as did that Timagorus ; who, sent on 
 an embassy to Persia and conforming to some of the usages 
 of that Court, at his return was put to death by the Athe 
 nians, who thought the dignity of their city compromised by 
 his conduct. 
 
 MARGARET TO ANNA. 
 
 We have had a more considerable alarm, the causes and 
 course of which I will speak of. Livingston you know has 
 been the subject of public remark, and perhaps some 
 scandal. The conduct of our people in military matters 
 has gone abroad to their prejudice ; in addition, Judge 
 Morgridge has been accused of remissness in duty ; it was 
 said that he had not sent so many convicts to the State 
 Prison as formerly, and that he shortened the term of such 
 as were committed to the Jail. It was intimated that we 
 had rendered ourselves obnoxious to Legislative severity, 
 and some punitive action on the part of the government was 
 apprehended. A memorial to the General Court was got 
 up, and signed by nearly a thousand of our people, men, 
 women and children, setting forth our condition and most 
 22* 
 
258 MARGARET. 
 
 earnest wishes. Deacon Bowker was our representative 
 at the time ; he read the memorial, but added nothing, only 
 took his seat, and as he said, prayed God to aid the issue. 
 The Legislature, in a manner that does credit equally to 
 their prudence and humanity, ordered an investigation of 
 the case ; and a Committee was raised to visit Livingston 
 and report at the next session. Two gentlemen with 
 plenipotentiary powers of inspection came amongst us. 
 They were here frequently, and in fact spent several weeks 
 of the year on their object. We sought neither to meal- 
 powder nor gold-blind them, but showed them the civilities 
 due to all, and maintained the uniformity due to ourselves. 
 They tell the story of a young painter, who being very 
 poor was reduced to the necessity of converting one of his 
 pictures into lining for his jacket ; and thus exposed his 
 genius by wearing it on his back. Livingston wears its 
 virtues on its back and in its heart too where they can 
 be seen at a glance : but to my story. 
 
 The Committee made up their report which, having been 
 printed, swells into a large pamphlet. I will give you a 
 syllabus of it. They say our roads are in fine order, in 
 fact none are better in the State ; that the whole town has 
 a striking aspect of neatness and thrift ; that during all the 
 time of their visit they saw not one drunken man, while in 
 most towns such characters appeared without looking for 
 them ; that the consumption of intoxicating drinks has 
 diminished from six or eight thousand gallons annually to a 
 few scores ; that the amount paid for schools has risen 
 from three or four hundred dollars to two thousand; that 
 all taxes laid by the State and County have been promptly 
 paid ; that our poor have lessened three-quarters ; they say 
 also that the value of real estate in Livingston has ad 
 vanced twenty per cent., and that wholly exclusive of the 
 
THE CONDITION OF LIVINGSTON. 259 
 
 improvements on Mons Christ! ; and that the mania for 
 removing to the West, which prevails all over New Eng 
 land, has here subsided. 
 
 On the charges preferred against Judge Morgridge, so 
 far as his connection with this town and vicinity are con 
 cerned, they report in the first place that fewer criminal 
 actions have been brought before him than formerly, and 
 those of a less malefic nature; and that the number of 
 prisoners in the Jail has fallen from forty or fifty to eight 
 or ten, and only one of these belonged to Livingston. 
 They next inquire if these facts are to be attributed to the 
 official negligence of the Judge, or to an actual decrease of 
 crime. On this point, which is elaborated with consider 
 able care, thanks to those gentlemen, I will give you the 
 results of their observation. They say that during the last 
 four years since the enlargement of the Jail, the addition 
 to the comfort of the inmates, and the practice here adopted 
 of visiting them frequently, and attending to their moral 
 condition, the recommitments have almost entirely ceased ; 
 whereas in former times these constituted nearly one half 
 of the subjects of prosecution ; and they consent that our 
 mode tends really to reform the prisoner, and restore him a 
 useful citizen to the State ; and they say they see not 
 cause for censuring the Judge who sends convicts rather to 
 the Jail, where their morals and manners are amended, 
 than to the State Prison where the reverse is wont to be 
 fall. The Committee came evidently possessed with the 
 suspicion, which some have taken the pains to create in the 
 public mind, that we shielded our criminals and tried to 
 snatch them from justice. They say they have canvassed 
 the whole town, explored by-places, gone into private 
 dwellings, watched about taverns, traversed the streets by 
 night, and cannot find any criminals ; that the people ap- 
 
260 MARGARET. 
 
 pear to be industrious, time-saving, minders-of-their-own- 
 business, and free from the ordinary tokens of guilt. 
 They speak also of the absence of petty offences, which 
 exist almost everywhere ; and we could tell them once 
 flourished here, such as unhinging gates, hanging cart 
 wheels on trees, plundering hen-roosts, shearing horses, 
 etc., etc. They add, pleasantly enough, that, while they 
 have been in a hundred houses, at all hours of the day, they 
 have not heard a woman speak scandal, or scold her 
 children. They remark that a petition for divorce from 
 Hopestill Cutts and his wife, formerly pending before the 
 Legislature, has been withdrawn ; and here, as all along, 
 apprehensive of some collusion, they declare they made 
 such an investigation as perfectly satisfied them these 
 people were living in harmony and love. 
 
 Regarding the nature and extent of the penalty, they say 
 Judge Morgridge has generally adopted the minimum point 
 of the law, which he thinks has proved itself to be adequate 
 both for the protection of the community and the punish 
 ment of the offender. They report a visit to the Jail, 
 where they say they found what appeared to be a radical 
 change going on in the minds and hearts of the convicts. 
 The fact that few are recommitted indicates, they say, that 
 the accommodations of the Prison do not offer a premium 
 on crime. Another circumstance which demonstrates to 
 their minds the actual cessation of offences, is the abolition 
 of the use of intoxicating drinks. The able-bodied poor, 
 who used to waste their time and aggravate their indolence 
 by liquors, they found soberly working and wisely econo 
 mizing. Our merchants also told them the people traded 
 as liberally and paid more punctually than ever, and that 
 they had less occasion for prosecutions. Thus, in various 
 ways, the Committee profess themselves satisfied that there 
 
THE CONDITION OF LIVINGSTON. 261 
 
 is a diminution both in the causes and the sum of criminal 
 ity ; and they report a resolve which entirely exonerates 
 the Judge from the charge of infidelity to the laws, and 
 carelessness of the good of the State. 
 
 As regards military drills, our people made a solemn 
 exhibit to the Committee of what formerly existed here, the 
 intoxication, profanity, gambling, horse-racing, brawling, 
 dissipation of time, wreck of morals, etc., the offsprings of 
 those occasions ; and furthermore, they protested, that as 
 members of Christ-Church, as Christians, as believers in 
 the Gospel, they could not conscientiously engage in taking, 
 or preparing to take, the lives of their fellow-beings, in 
 premeditated battle. "I lost my all in one war," said 
 Captain Tuck, "and am prepared to do the same in 
 another. Take our property, consign us to dungeons, load 
 us with chains, but do not compel us to violate our con 
 sciences. I am under orders from the Lord Almighty, 
 Jesus Christ is my Commander-in-Chief, in their service I 
 deem it my highest honor to live, or to die." Our people 
 affirmed, in addition, that the military expenses of the town, 
 taking the matter in all ways, had not been less than one 
 thousand dollars a year; some said two thousand ; and that 
 they needed the money for other purposes. They added 
 that they were willing to pay such taxes as the government 
 imposed, and only sought the ability to pay. These facts 
 the Committee reported without comment. They were 
 present at several of our Festivals, at Christ-Church on the 
 Sabbath, at our Town Meetings, and dances, and expressed 
 a general satisfaction in what they saw. 
 
 And now what is the good news I have to tell you ? 
 this, that in the ultimate decision of the Legislature, it was 
 voted nearly unanimously by both houses, that Judge 
 Morgridge should not be disturbed in his office, and that the 
 
262 MARGARET^ 
 
 Town of Livingston should be exempt from all Military 
 duty ! It was the Summer Session, when the resolve was 
 finally passed, and Deacon Bowker arrived with the glad 
 intelligence Independence day ; our fears took flight in 
 raptures, and our ordinary good cheer creamed like a 
 tankard of beer. Master Elliman s toast was quite charac 
 teristic ; " Our Legislature, a convert from Thomas Aquinas 
 to Duns Scotus." 
 
 There has been a multiplication of travel hither, and the 
 influx of strangers is incessant and great. One advantage 
 the people say they begin to realize from their mode of 
 life ; that is money. Mr. Stillwater says his tavern profits 
 exceed by far those of other years. The people generally 
 speak of increased sales, on this score. Many orchards, 
 formerly miserable rum-lots, have been converted into pro 
 ductive fruiteries. We have imported grafts, and new 
 seed, and now they raise choice apples, pears and peaches, 
 that find a ready market any where. Some of the people, 
 who cannot confine themselves wholly to cold water, make 
 cider, by an improved process, which Mr. Evelyn says, is 
 equal to the purest wines of France. 
 
 Dr. Johnson tells a story of Steele, to this effect. The 
 essayist having one day invited to his house several per 
 sons of quality, they were surprised at the number of liver 
 ies that surrounded the table. One of the guests inquired 
 of Steele, how such a train of domestics could be consistent 
 with his fortune, for he was known to be poor. He frank 
 ly confessed they were fellows of whom he would very will 
 ingly be rid ; but declared they were bailiffs, who had 
 introduced themselves with an execution, and whom, since 
 he could not send them away, he had found it convenient to 
 embellish with liveries, that they might do him credit while 
 they did stay. How much of the equipage, the appoint- 
 
AGRICULTURAL IMPROVEMENTS. 263 
 
 ments, the furniture, the dress, of the world, is a sort of liv 
 ened bailiff, who, as soon as the feast is over, will take 
 every thing from you ! Whatever decorations Livingston- 
 ians exhibit, are their own, their debts are paid. 
 
 Mr. Evelyn has accomplished a good deal with the some 
 what rugged soil of Mons Christi. Last year he sold, in 
 New York, four hundred bushels of apples, at an average 
 of seventy-five cents per bushel. He raised also six hun 
 dred bushels of rye, corn and oats, potatoes, and other 
 things as many as we want. We have six cows, and such 
 cream, butter, cheese did you ever taste better? Our 
 sheep, hogs, turkeys, ducks, hens, are innumerable. In the 
 Saw-mill, at the Outlet, we have put a run of stone, and 
 grind our own grain. The Notch through the hill from the 
 Via Salutaris to the Outlet is now a fine road, and a fine 
 drive ; and that wild and superb scenery back of the high 
 lands is accessible to all. Balboa, he that discovered the 
 Pacific Ocean, when he came in sight of it, fell on his 
 knees and thanked God ; then plunging into the water up 
 to his waist, with his sword and buckler, took possession in 
 the name of his sovereign. We have just reached the edge 
 of this illimitable, whale-bearing, sky-cleaving Nature ; with 
 hoe and axe, microscope and alembic, love and health, we 
 take possession of it, in the name of God and Christ, amen. 
 The Chinese carry their gardens and rice-fields to the tops 
 of their mountains. What may yet become of New Eng 
 land ? The Indians indeed are gone ; what do we in their 
 stead ? This suggests to me that the remains of Pakanaw- 
 ket and his grandchild, after reposing so long in the depths 
 of the Pond, at last rose to the surface. We had them bur 
 ied in the woods which he pointed out as the home of his 
 grandfather ; and over them we put an antique monument 
 of red sand-stone, on which are sculptured their effigies 
 
264 MARGARET. 
 
 in the style of the Middle Ages. In the darkest woods 
 they lie, but their shrine has as many visitors as that of 
 Thomas a Becket. What more, what better could we do ? 
 
 MR. EVELYN TO ANNA. 
 
 From the tone of your letters, I gather that Margaret in 
 what she writes you, treats of her own agency in these 
 matters Livingstonian in a manner somewhat obscure. I 
 shall take the liberty to elucidate this point briefly. I do 
 not intend to overtax her modesty or involve her singleness 
 of heart, beyond what is meet ; but in truth I must declare, 
 the first person in her letters would be more fitting and ex 
 act than any second ; it is she herself, and not we, who is, 
 under God and in Christ, the soul of all that which we 
 now behold. This may be as frankly avowed as it is sin 
 cerely felt. Nor do I fear inducing a dispute with my dear 
 wife by saying as much. She knows that I know it, and if 
 she has not confidence enough in herself to confess the fact, 
 she has in me to yield to it. If she has not a consciousness 
 of her own strength, it is because it is so absolutely and 
 plenarily great she lacks the contentions and annoyances of 
 weakness which reveal to most of us the little strength we 
 do possess. Wherein she is conscious of her strength, she 
 so expends it in action as to leave no carking and petted 
 residuum to be troubled with. Her self-consciousness is 
 not, what we sometimes behold, a crying infant, but a 
 grown-up sister ; it resides quite as much with her industry 
 as in her heart, and she is not obliged to quit her work and 
 rock the cradle of herself. She thus escapes a morbid ten 
 dency on the one hand, and a heedless one on the other ; 
 she can be self-forgetful and self-moved ; she can love and 
 
MR. EVELYN S LETTER. 200 
 
 she can labor. She will not charge me with any adroit 
 humility that seeks to hide itself under her laurels. 
 
 You have known, Anna, that I had some vis in my com 
 position, but of that kind which the books call mortua, more 
 than the description viva ; in other words, that I was slug 
 gish and lazy. I saw, and thought, and speculated enough. 
 I attained many correct conclusions ; but never did any 
 thing. When I left College, I soon convinced myself, that 
 like many other rare geniuses, I was doomed to be the vic 
 tim of circumstances. I was not poverty-stricken, but man- 
 stricken. The forms and the spirit of error and evil had 
 distorted the face of the globe ; but why should I attempt 
 to remove mountains, or change the beds of rivers ? Let 
 me travel over the one, and sail on the other. I would not 
 perish where so many of my kith and kin had come to their 
 end, that is to say, in contention. I essayed poetry, but 
 soon learned, that I had not only to make verses, but re 
 model the standards of taste ; that if I would succeed, I 
 must first put all the critics to death, as the Emperor 
 Hadrian did Apollodorus, for blaming the proportions of a 
 Temple he had erected. Of the Professions, Theology I 
 could not, Law and Medicine I would not ; and then, as a 
 last resort, I concluded to fall in love with a very pretty 
 and very poor girl, here in Livingston. I knew I could 
 live with her, whereas I must die in all the world besides. 
 Well for me that I had sense enough to understand her, or 
 heart enough to love her. I could always philosophize, but 
 lacked the energy of execution. In place of hastening the 
 better day, I was disposed to yield most implicit obedience 
 to that direction of the Apostle, " Wait until the Lord 
 come." Margaret s energy has inspired all my capabilities, 
 and given motion to my will. But more than this, for ex 
 ample, I could sit with Phidias in his studio, and out of 
 
 VOL. IT. 23 
 
266 MARGARET. 
 
 ideal gold and ivory make a Jupiter, with all suitable en 
 richments. She takes the veritable materials, and the 
 statue is done. Thus is our whole history ; I have been 
 able to impart a certain fanciful existence to Ideality ; she 
 perpetually reduces the same to the Actual. Nor does she 
 seem to study her plan, with most artists, and then go 
 to work ; she goes to work, and the plan and the result 
 are both before you. She seems to be only embodying 
 herself in what is about her, her profuse and impulsive being 
 creates life in all things, her own going forth is the signal 
 for the appearance of Beauty and Virtue ; she translates 
 Nature to Man ; and Man to himself. I talk like a doting 
 husband, but this is what I am, and what she has made me. 
 
 She was reared on bread and cider, and bean porridge ; 
 she slept in a cold chamber, she hardened her constitution 
 among snow-banks ; her mind, never overloaded, was 
 always occupied ; her nature would neither endure, nor did 
 it ever receive, the fetters of fashion, conventionality, dog 
 ma, or world-fear. Without education, in the common 
 sense of the term, her faculties were matured ; without in 
 struction she was wise ; and having never heard of Mr. 
 Nash, she became graceful and polite. 
 
 Christianity she was unembarrassed to receive, and in 
 that alone has she found a master. For this indeed she 
 was somewhat prepared by her night-visions ; but when it 
 came, it overpowered and aggrandized her. I never could 
 have imagined so perfect an incarnation of Christ as she 
 is ; and that without parting with any of her proper indi 
 viduality. She drinks in Christ as the oaks do the dews, 
 to replenish herself in greater proportion and beauty there 
 by. The bread from Heaven, designed for the aliment, 
 development, and ripening of all souls, she feeds daily 
 upon. 
 
HIS ACCOUNT OF MARGARET. 267 
 
 I know not that she is a Philosopher, save that she acts 
 philosophically. Our Philosophers, for the most part, by 
 an industrious collation of many facts, like travellers with 
 heavy packs on their shoulders, fare slowly up the hill of 
 their conclusions. On a few facts her conclusions rest ; 
 one fact stands with her for many facts, and this from a 
 certain comprehensive and nice power of analogy she pos 
 sesses. That law by which all facts in the physical, moral 
 and religious world gravitate towards a common centre, 
 and coalesce in one, she has an intuitive perception of. 
 Or rather the soul of all things, the Truth and Love, of 
 which facts are but the signs, she understands by the cor 
 respondence of her own soul therewith. Hence is her logic 
 rapid and correct, and her action perfect and sure. She has 
 perhaps, more Philosophy than a Philosopher ; and if, as 
 has been observed, History be Philosophy teaching by 
 example, Nature is Margaret teaching by practice. 
 She also possesses much of the Universal Heart; a va 
 riety of hearts enter into the ingredients of hers. Hence, 
 occupying the stand-point of the many, her sight is exten 
 sive, her projects are feasible, and her success certain. 
 
 When I first saw her, she was more purely in a state of 
 nature than any civilized person I ever encountered. To 
 this, partly, I attribute the power of the Gospel on her. 
 Neither internal sin nor external evil had deformed or dis 
 eased her, and she was prepared, like a new-born babe, to 
 breathe the at nosj here of Christ the moment she came in 
 contact with it, and to drink the sincere milk of the word. 
 I once wholly despaired of seeing I ristian ; she is one ! 
 I might say, I more than despaired of fulfilling my ideal in 
 myself ; she has aided me to do it ! Christ pervades every 
 corner and cranny of her being ; she is filled with the full 
 ness of God. 
 
268 MARGARET. 
 
 And yet she loves me with a most devout and child-like 
 love. " And yet? " Why should she not ? In pursuing 
 her objects in town, she is no dry, hoarse-voiced, arrow- 
 speeding, denunciatory, crochetty, monomaniac ; she gushes 
 up like a fountain, and having supplied her home, has 
 enough wherewithal to overflow and run down the hill. 
 She is meek and lowly of heart in an uncommon degree. 
 Whatever manly qualities she exhibits, it is without mascu- 
 linenass, and she is a woman without effeminacy. She has 
 no bitterness of spirit ; the only person in the world whom 
 she was disposed to view as thoroughly and hopelessly de 
 praved, was the Widow Wright ; but I believe she has got 
 the better of that judgment. She has no blur in her own 
 eyes when she would remove that of her brother. 
 
 But of her connection with the Livirigstonian re-Chris- 
 tianization I say, she may report to you what she does, 
 more than what we do. This is a palpable truth. For 
 instance, our Festivals ; I had witnessed their workings in 
 the Old World, I was convinced of their utility ; I could 
 relate their history, distinguish their errors and defects ; 
 while I was speaking on the subject, she had elaborated the 
 system we now enjoy. Is it my doings or hers ? At the 
 same time, standing as she does in the common heart, cor 
 responding with so many minds, it seemed to emanate as 
 much from the people as from herself. The hierophancy 
 that exists in all souls needed only to be awakened to 
 make every one a practical interpreter of Nature. This, 
 you will recollect, was after the extraneous habits and fac 
 titious modes of the people had somewhat worn away, and 
 they were prepared to act on an original native sense of 
 things. How this superincrustation, hardened by many 
 years duration, and even converted into the commonest uses 
 of life, became removed, would puzzle a greater philoso- 
 
HIS ACCOUNT OF MJLRGU.RET 269 
 
 pher than she thinks I am, to tell. Its disappearance was 
 gradual, and jet perceptible. The Spirit of God entered 
 into men s souls, and these dead forms were uplifted, the 
 oppressive bands were broken asunder. Truth and Love, 
 here as everywhere, like that Nebuchadnezzarean tree, had 
 their branches cut off, and its leaves shaken off, but the 
 stump of the roots was in the earth, and needed but to be 
 wet with the dew of Heaven, to shoot forth in primeval, 
 p; radisean vi<iM* and bloom. Humanity, like a buried 
 giant, heaved off its superincumbence, and rose to life ; Re 
 ligion cast aside her Harlequin robes. 
 
 Margaret ever courted alliance with an imperishable 
 Nature. The sentiments of Deacon Ramsdill, sound as 
 they are homely, must have assisted her. From breast to 
 breast an electric fire spread itself. She subsidized all my 
 strength, she drew your brother into the field ; she had 
 also most serviceable coadjutors in many other wise and 
 valiant men and women. Her knowledge of human nature 
 would strike you as very great. She says Jesus Christ 
 taught her this knowledge ; that since she has been a 
 Christian, and a student of the gospels, this intuition, or 
 experience, has been singularly developed in her. Our 
 taking up our abode at Mons Christi was, on the whole, 
 her own suggestion ; what we did for the No. 4 s, and par 
 ticularly the setting up of the Statue, was, for the most 
 part, a plan of hers. A pink she saw once in one of their 
 houses seemed to suggest the Statue; and a beautiful 
 image of Diligence she felt would carry a varied impression 
 to the hearts of those gross people, that should work their 
 complete reformation. And the result did not disappoint 
 her. Many, many things about our house, grounds, ways, 
 and in the town, are purely her own inventions. All our 
 superb statues are chiefly hers. I would not applaud her 
 23* 
 
270 MARGARET. 
 
 at the expense of any others. I shall not write myself 
 altogether a " puppet ; " your brother has done a great 
 work for us. He came with purposes, possibly not fully 
 ripe, but with talents of the first order, and a heart glowing 
 with Christ-like ambition. There is a host besides, of 
 whom, if not the world, Livingston is worthy. 
 
 Of Margaret I was speaking. I have translated to her 
 the whole of the New Testament ; and she, I must concede, 
 understands it better than I do. She has a most accurate 
 perception of the general sense, she detects hidden springs 
 of beauty, she harmonizes varying passages and contra 
 dictory language, she gathers what may be termed the 
 manner of Christ, his accents and emphases, his moods and 
 feelings ; she is not constrained by those unnatural promi 
 nences which to those of us who have been long accustomed 
 to hear particular topics discussed, and particular texts 
 dwelt upon, occur every where in the Bible. A parable, a 
 trope, an hyperbole, never embarrasses her. There may 
 be a reason for this, in the fact that she understands Christ 
 so well ; she is, if I may so say, so much in his vein. She 
 goes deeper than the partial, varying human letter, even 
 into the spirit of Jesus, and comes up full of his meaning. 
 Then she brings to the Gospel so fresh and pure a nature. 
 Do the best I can, I still find myself stumbling upon certain 
 passages that have been detached from their proper place 
 in the sacred text, inwrought into some human system, and 
 invested with a sense wholly remote from the original. She 
 has been troubled by no systems, and these passages, to her, 
 all melt down, and flow on in harmony with the great 
 stream of Gospel truth. 
 
 My dearest wife ! I see her now on the Pond. She 
 comes from the Islands ; arid our little Gottfried is with 
 her. Her head is wreathed with evergreens, and the boy 
 
MARGARET S ACCOUNT OF HERSELF. 271 
 
 has a cincture of the same. With featest stroke she drives 
 forward her canoe, firmly the child clutches the seat. 
 Happy husband and father of so good a wife, so good a 
 child am I ! Fresh and warm is she in heart and com 
 plexion, as when I with her first looked on these beautiful 
 waters. Yearly does my love for her increase, with every 
 holy deed our souls are knitted more closely together, She 
 leaps upon the beach, she runs along the grass, the little 
 Gottfried chases his mother. I must go and meet them, 
 for I am made young and agile too. She will bide what I 
 have written ; she never blushes at truth, but only when I 
 love her. 
 
 MARGARET TO ANNA. 
 
 From the same fountain flow tears and smiles ! How 
 curiously we are made. My cheeks tingle, my heart goes 
 pit-a-pat. Mr. Evelyn would not send off his letter with 
 out showing it to me. All the world may speak well or ill 
 of me ; I take it, as Nimrod says a horse does the bit, very 
 coolly. His censure or approbation quite undoes me. 
 What is he not to me ? When other things are so much, how 
 much is he ! God, Christ, and Mr. Evelyn ; the Infinite 
 and the Finite, in triune, golden chain encircle me, in one 
 sweet heaven embosom me. Man is that wind-harp, through 
 which the breath of God sounds so softly, as in the thick 
 pines. Mr. Evelyn revealed Christ to me, Christ revealed 
 God to him. Dear, dear, thrice dear Mr. Evelyn. Does 
 he not know how much my strength is nourished from him, 
 as well as from bean porridge ? He has not told you how 
 I watched him when he was asleep ; nor how I vibrate to 
 his voice when he calls me in the garden ; nor how I wait 
 
272 MAR0ARBT. 
 
 upon his words, his opinions, his judgments. When he was 
 gone so long, and so far away, I cherished him, as a 
 hidden birth in my soul, which his coming alone brought 
 into life. Did I not tell you, Anna, how much I loved 
 him ? Yet you understood something of me, and more of 
 him, and you could not be surprised that I did love him. 
 But when he left for Europe, I knew not that I should ever 
 see him again, and he did not write me. What unde 
 these circumstances could a girl like me do ? Why, love 
 in silence, the same as fishes swim. You are a woman, and 
 you know what that is ; and we are women, Rose says, and 
 A\ e are but women, I allow. It never occurred to me that 
 I was poor, or that I was bred in " the orful wicked ways 
 of the Pond," as the Leech said. Yet how did I love Mr. 
 Evelyn ? His letter, if it does not recall me to myself, 
 does certainly recall all my life to me. And if 1 have not 
 always answered all your questions, dear Anna, it was 
 because I was more apt to fill out my sheet with what was 
 then on my hands, than with what had slid off into my 
 memory. 
 
 But I must first settle certain preliminaries as to what a 
 woman is. You would sometimes seem to admonish me 
 lest I become a partaker of a vague somewhat unwomanly. 
 Yet in theory I always agreed with you, and our differences, 
 if there were any, only contemplated the details of practice. 
 And here what I have to say is formed, not from any 
 considerable stress of logic, but out of what lies all around 
 me. To say " We are women," means no more at Mons 
 Christi, than to say, " We are men," and just as much. 
 There is the same difference, I think, between a man and a 
 woman, as between a black birch and a white one. The 
 character of woman has risen a hundred fold in Livingston, 
 yet are we all women still. The girls are not boys, neither 
 
HOW SHE LOVED. 273 
 
 are the ladies lords. We have no Amazons or hybirds, 
 unless I except the Goddess of Health. Man and woman, 
 we are both united and elevated by the common tie of 
 respect and esteem, mutual deference and good will, love 
 and honor. We are boys and girls, wives and husbands, 
 men and women still. Man is less exclusive and despotic, 
 woman is less slavish and tame. Our Festivals, our 
 dances, the general diffusion of Christianity in town, 
 have had the effect to abrade many prejudices, correct 
 many diversities, raise the women in their proper scale, and 
 restore the just order and equitable arrangements of society. 
 It seems after all to be a question of beards and breeches* 
 and since nature has not furnished us the first, why should 
 we be anxious to supply ourselves with the last ? " Don t 
 be afraid of Livingston ! " Captain Tuck says, and in this 
 matter, so say I. 
 
 Now, being a woman, how should, or how did I love Mr. 
 Evelyn ? They tell of two yew trees that fell in love, but 
 being separated by a large forest, couid not speak to each 
 other. Cherishing their love in concealment, they at 
 length grew so tall, they could overlook the intervening 
 trees ; they saw each other, their love was consummated. 
 We did love, we were separated, we at last met, and our 
 love was consummated. But the growing tqll, how was 
 that ? Were we prepared for a perfect love at the first ? 
 Did we need each other ? Were we of proportionate moral 
 stature ? Were there no distances even in ourselves 
 requiring that we should first grow tall before we could 
 overlook them? Does not one need a certain amount of 
 self-subsistence, before he or she can subsist another ? We 
 are capable of loving, long before we are capable of 
 being loved ; I mean capable of supporting the love of 
 another. " A solemn thing is love," said Isabel, when 
 
274 MARGARET. 
 
 Eufus offered her his heart. Mr. Evelyn, as I recol 
 lect, when I first saw him, imparted to me something of a 
 tremor. But what if he had then proposed to marry me ? 
 That would have made me tremble worse and more hope- 
 essly. His love for me must first become a subjective 
 part of my own existence, it must grow up in me, it must 
 mould me somewhat into his image ; and so too must mine 
 for him act upon him ; then when we meet, our diversities 
 will have vanished, we shall be like each other, we shall be 
 ready to live together always. Perhaps you will say this 
 is rather the record of my own experience, than the estab 
 lishment of any principle ; and what is worse, it may indi 
 cate a very dull and unsavory process. I do believe in 
 falling in love, spontaneously, ardently, as much as Rose 
 does, but I do not believe in falling into a quagmire. I 
 cannot approve of those marrying who have no points in 
 common. I confess indeed to the power of love in dimin 
 ishing differences, and uprooting antipathetic tendencies. 
 But should not their general tastes, sentiments, views, feel 
 ings, be accordant ? Let love set the mill a-going, but how 
 can we expect any good results from cogs that never fit, or 
 from a wheel-band running on the barrel of a watch ? 
 Yet, are we not Pythagorean half-souls ? Men or women, 
 do we not all need our mates ? Do we not float through 
 the world, like loose planets, till we are caught in the 
 : ttraction of some other orb ? I must have 3 r. Evelyn, 
 Rose must have Frank, Rhody must have Nimrod, Sybil 
 Hash, Isabel Rufus, you Mr. Watson ; and so, vice versa. 
 This at least is Rose s doctrine, and I leave it with her to 
 carry on the discussion. 
 
 Marriage is proposed as the cure of love ; " Get them 
 husbands betimes," says my oracle. We find marriage the 
 sustentation and enrichment of love. When did I love Mr. 
 
HOW SHE LOVED. 275 
 
 Evelyn more than to-day? That we have diversities is cer 
 tain ; but what shall we do with them ? Wink them out 
 of sight ; agree to disagree ; bear with one another in 
 silent, consuming pain ? No. Let them be thrown into 
 the common crucible of our affection, and fused together 
 into some teritum quid, some new homogeneous form. We 
 have been married seven years. Twice, for they say I 
 have an excellent memory, and I cannot very well forget 
 the time, twice he has distressed me, agonized my heart 
 beyond description ; I could have died. I thought I can 
 not tell what it is past now. Only I fancied he did not do 
 me justice it was a little thing it was not that I was a 
 woman and he a man, for he has never failed not only to 
 love but even to honor me. It was two souls becoming 
 dark to each other, veiling their faces. We were hidden 
 only a short time ; the dew of sadness that was upon our 
 windows became beautiful, and then vanished. Yet when 
 he chided me. he loved me. You look from a well-lighted 
 room through a window when it is pitch dark abroad, and 
 you see your own image out in the darkness. He was 
 dark, but in his soul was my image ; he tenderly cherished 
 me, and I had to ask to be forgiven. The Apostle prays 
 that we be perfect in love. In love we go on to perfection, 
 in perfection we go on to love. " Are we not illimitable 
 and immortal only in love ? " asks my father of my own 
 dear mother. " God dwelleth in him that dwelleth in 
 love." He dwells in Mr. Evelyn and me. His Shekinah 
 is our house and our hearts. Our trees and our flowers 
 grow larger and more beautiful every year ; so does our 
 love. God is the same forever, he never grows old, he is 
 never common place ; nor is our love ever dull, having its 
 roots in the Infinite. To the eyes of love all things are 
 new. 
 
27C MARGARET. 
 
 I too am a mother, so is Rose, so are you. Gottfried 
 Briickmann is four years old, Jane Girardeau, two. Rose 
 has the prettiest little blossom you ever beheld ; she daily 
 waxes more happy, more strong. How pleasant to multiply 
 the avenues into which the Divinity may pour itself! You 
 used, sometimes, to raise questions about miracles. Let us 
 cease wondering, and become wonder-workers. The ways 
 of nature are the true anagogics. Gottfried is brown as a 
 nut, and I see Jeannie rolling on the grass. They are 
 hale and hearty, and do not grow under a board ; they eat 
 lustily three times a day, and sleep well o nights. The 
 root called pie-plant, just before it shoots from the earth in 
 the Spring, is the most beautifully tinted thing you ever 
 beheld. Remove the soil, and there you have disclosed a 
 most exquisite rose flesh color, deepening into the purest 
 carmine, and alternating with vermilion and gold. Children 
 that germinate with plenty of mother earth about them, 
 come out in the fairest hues. Cloth, as Ma used to say, is 
 sometimes killed in coloring ; but those are artificial dyes. 
 The tints of nature betoken vigor and heart. 
 
 Rhody has a son whom they call Chilion ; Isabel a 
 daughter, Margaret hight. Rufus has built an elegant 
 marble Italian Villa on the north eastern brow of Mons 
 Christi. Thus we form an extensive community. I am 
 not afraid of our children becoming contaminated here. 
 Hash and Nimrod are really new men in Christ Jesus. 
 You would hardly believe they have daily prayers with 
 their households ; which is nevertheless the fact. The 
 Bishop has urged the duty of family religion, and great is 
 the change in this respect, in all parts of the town. I can 
 hardly describe my astonishment, when, the other morning, 
 going into Pa s, to find that once blasphemous, atheistic old 
 man. soberly reading the Scriptures with Ma, and devoutly 
 
VISIT TO THE POND. 277 
 
 praying ! But what shall become of our children, in after- 
 times, and elsewhere ? Livingston seems to us like Arran- 
 more to the Irish, where in clear weather they fancy they 
 can see Paradise. The world is dark and sinful, and how 
 can we adventure our children in it ? 
 
 Pa takes a great liking to the little ones, and they often 
 run over there. The old man is still mercurial ; but his 
 pot-valiantry is gone ; cold water is his only fog-breaker ; 
 for Anacreontics he sings Christian hymns. He only wishes 
 he had two ears. Ma says Jeannie looks like me. And I 
 was a child once. The other day I rowed across the Pond, 
 and leaped off into the water where I used to bathe and 
 chase the sand-pipers. The rocks, the shadows, the vines 
 were there, and I was there, in my little canoe. I forgot 
 the Universe, and my life, and my children, to be a child 
 once more. Presently Mr. Evelyn came, with Gottfried 
 and Jane, and we frolicked in the water together, and were 
 all children as one. How should a child punish a child ? 
 I mean how should I punish my children ? Are parents 
 never in the wrong ? Are children never in the right ? 
 " Nurses should not have pins about them," said Deacon 
 Ramsdill. Do not parents, by their own pride and igno 
 rance often prick their children, and then whip them for 
 crying ? 
 
 " The bones of an infant," says Dr. Buchan, " are so soft 
 and cartilaginous, that they readily yield to the slightest 
 pressure, and easily assume a bad shape. Hence it is that 
 so many people appear with high shoulders, crooked spines 
 and flat breasts, having had the misfortune to be squeezed 
 out of shape by the application of stays and bandages from 
 their birth." The world abounds in what Comenius calls 
 Deformed and Monstrous people, in both a physical and 
 moral aspect ; all squeezed out of shape in their infancy. 
 
 VOL. 11. 24 
 
278 MARGARET. 
 
 Can you fail to understand how men become depraved ? 
 " Laissez faire," says Mr. Evelyn. We would encompass 
 our children by the influences of the Good and the Beauti 
 ful, which is all they can, primordially, understand of God. 
 Let their characters have an imperceptible development, 
 
 like rose buds. 
 
 ######## 
 
 Mr. Evelyn would make you believe that I have been 
 personally interested in this rejuvenescence of the town; so 
 mote it be. After all, it is God s work ; we are only his 
 subalterns. You are surprised at the result ; I am not. 
 There are 2,304,000 pores in the human body ; so many 
 avenues, I might say, has God to the heart ; and if we 
 will but be co-workers with him, we can find access also. 
 God follows, or I should say, makes nature his mode of 
 entrance and influence ; we have but to go in by the same 
 way, and work after the same pattern. Not but that there 
 have been difficulties ; but the greatest one, after all, was 
 to find God s stand-point of Nature. What the people of 
 Livingston needed, I could but see ; what they would re 
 ceive, may at times have admitted of some questioning. 
 Their vices were not indeed peculiar, they shared in the 
 common backsliding from God ; their cisterns, drained of 
 water, held only sediment, for which they were ready, at 
 any moment, to do battle. I remembered the feeling that 
 prevailed here when I was lost in the woods ; how good 
 every body was, self-sacrificing, and self-forgetful ; I re 
 membered my dreams. There were the many things 
 Deacon Ramsdill told me ; there was my experience with 
 the children when I kept the School, where I learned more 
 of the infinite susceptibilities, wants, tendencies of our na 
 ture, than could in any other way have been presented to 
 me out of myself; there was what Chilion told me about 
 
NOT DONE BY MOXEY. 279 
 
 Music ; there was the geode and its crystals. Ever too 
 was myself, I could but be sensible of my own wants, and 
 what would do me good. There was the revelation of 
 Christ to me, by Mr. Evelyn. There was the well at No. 
 4, of which he speaks, clear water, a subterranean Heaven 
 in that greasy, odious place, and along with it Dorothy s 
 pink, that seemed to me like another little Heaven in the 
 deep degradation of humanity. There was also a strong 
 conviction that the sin which I saw in the world was unnat 
 ural and self-destructive, that much of the folly of men was 
 preposterous and remediable. So in many ways I was 
 taught the will of God. I know not that I was ever con 
 scious of any mission to this people ; but after our house 
 was done, I could not be satisfied till something else was 
 doing. Our, or my, if you please, first experiment was at 
 No. 4, as he has told you. The effect was almost instanta 
 neous and quite magnificent ; that the Scripture might be 
 fulfilled where it is written, " Though they have lain among 
 pots, they shall become as the wings of a dove covered 
 with silver, and her feathers with yellow gold." 
 
 I have a fortune indeed; and some would fain make 
 themselves believe that we have opened a battery of syste 
 matic bribery, that we have got into the human heart, as 
 Philip did into the Athenian walled -towns, by our gold. 
 You would be surprised to know how little we have 
 bestowed in a mere eleemosynary manner. We gave 
 nothing to the No. 4 s, except what took an ornamental 
 form. Their solid comfort and prosperity is wholly to be 
 attributed to themselves. It was not largesses they needed, 
 but industry, economy, temperance and love. We bought 
 them a barn, when their hay and corn began to increase ; 
 but they have since repurchased it. I gave Abiah Tapley 
 a clarionet and Isaiah Batch a bugle, that they might join 
 
280 
 
 MARGARET. 
 
 our Band ; Dorothy we have educated. In the town at 
 large we have done little for charity ; our money indeed 
 has gone freely, but more in ways aesthetic and religious 
 than otherwise. It has aided in the erection of a Church 
 Cemetery, Fountain, School-house, remodelling the Jail, 
 planting trees, setting up Statues, etc., etc. To Judah 
 Weeks we made a loan, on an importation of sheep, cows, 
 fruits and seeds, he was making from England ; but he has 
 repaid it. And, I believe, at this moment, I could receive 
 back principal and interest, all I have laid out. The pecu 
 niary ability of the people has kept pace with their moral 
 excellence. Land has advanced in price, strangers are 
 anxious to settle amongst us. The people have expended 
 a good deal, and they have made money. Abstinence from 
 ardent spirits, military duty, needless fashions, lawsuits, 
 have saved the town ten thousand dollars a year ; so Judge 
 Morgridge said at our house the other night. Add to this 
 the recovery from idle habits, negligent dispositions and an 
 unproductive uniformity, and you will see our people are 
 able to expend much in other ways. 
 
 Waste lands have been redeemed ; sundry improvements 
 in agricultural and mechanical arts adopted, whereby at 
 once is a saving, and a profit. Education, Literature, 
 Religion, Recreation, Beauty, Music, Art, Morality and 
 General Happiness, are things the people enjoy, and for 
 which they are able to pay. They have laid the founda 
 tion for a building to serve a composite purpose, of Library, 
 Museum, Lecture Room, Reading Room. The Natural 
 History of the place some are beginning to develop and 
 illustrate ; its insects, birds, fishes, rocks, and flowers. 
 Arthur Morgridge and Aurelius Orff spent the whole of 
 last year in examinations of this sort, and their book under 
 the superintendence of Master Elliman will be published, 
 
FJLSHION. 281 
 
 and two hundred copies will be sold in Livingston. Han 
 cock "Welles, the Principal of the Grammar School, spends 
 one whole day in the week with his scholars, studying the 
 world about them; I mean the Livingstonian world, of 
 wood, earth and water. Of our extraneous public taxes 
 some of the people complain a little. Mons Christi paid . 
 general tax last year of two thousand dollars. Mr. Evelyn 
 says the State has helped Livingston somewhat, and if 
 Livingston can help the State out of its difficulties, it will 
 be better for all in the end. 
 
 Do people speak of wealth ? Mr. Evelyn says our 
 country expends for military and warlike purposes, in all 
 ways, at the rate of 80,000,000 dollars a year, for intoxi 
 cating drinks 50,000,000 more, and for vain and hurtful 
 customs enough to carry the tale to 200,000,000 ! What 
 if this sum could every where be devoted to Christ, Beauty 
 and Happiness ; you would cease to wonder at what is done 
 in Livingston. 
 
 What time, what labor, what money is laid out in the 
 great world on what is known as Fashion / Vice is ugly, 
 and yet you embrace her ; if she were beautiful, that might 
 be an excuse for your conduct. Can any thing exhibit a 
 more " hideous mien than Fashion ? The French Mil 
 liners are a more dangerous foe to the race than French 
 arms. Madame Laponte threatens a worse evil than Na 
 poleon. She has actually invaded America, and thousands 
 of females have fallen victims to her arts. Your grand 
 mother said I should certainly lose my symmetry if I that 
 not wear a whalebone corset like one she showed me, and 
 would weigh, I should think, three pounds. Your friend, 
 Mrs. Modim, declared I should lose caste if I did not carry 
 my waist up over my shoulders ; long waists, she said, 
 were fast going out of fashion, or worn by the vulgar. Is 
 24* 
 
282 MARGARET. 
 
 it not, after all, only a circular race between Tippee and 
 Twaddle ? Tippee is now ahead, Twaddle soon overtakes 
 her, Tippee falls behind ; so round and round they go ; 
 which leads, or which is beaten, who can tell ? Can that 
 be Beauty which lowers your corsage to-day, and raises it 
 to-morrow ; which flaunts a furbelow one year and denoun 
 ces it the next ? Your ladies seem to me more jiggered 
 than dressed ; they are tasty, but not neat ; they struggle 
 for good keeping, but attain no harmony ; they are bespan 
 gled without ornament, and fashionable without beauty. 
 Mr. Evelyn has a volume with plates illustrative of our 
 ancestral costumes ; and I am persuaded that if the Indians 
 had appeared in an attire which has been the glory of 
 Christian belles, it would have been set down as the proper 
 accompaniment of Barbarism, and the Greeks in such 
 dresses would never have advanced beyond the woods of 
 Attica. One department of our Museum, devoted to An 
 tiquities, I recommend to have supplied with garments 
 showing the fashions of our own and other times ; a suita 
 ble relic to be transmitted to posterity. The Spartans for 
 bade all colors but purple. If we do not restrict ourselves to 
 that extent, we will at least become more moderate. A robe, 
 a la Grecque, has been introduced into town, is greatly 
 admired, and somewhat worn. Alas for the persons of 
 quality who have wens on their necks ! You contrive to 
 hide this deformity by your cardinal hoods. But what will 
 you do with the next person of quality, who has monstrous 
 ankles ? The wen must then go bare ! Our people have 
 got the good graces of the Quakers ! four of whom have 
 come to reside here, with hands full of industry, and purses 
 full of money ; and they are interested members of Christ- 
 Church. 
 We have had the stanchest concurrence, a munificent 
 
MUSIC. 283 
 
 sympathy, and most effective aid. Names, which if it 
 could be, I should like to have publshed to the world, are 
 blazoned here on Livingston hills, and storied in Livingston 
 hearts ; the Morgridges, Weekses, Palmers, Pottles, Dor 
 othy, and a host that are written in the Lamb s Book of 
 Life. 
 
 How has it been done ? I will tell you. Dorothy Tap- 
 ley, you know, lived with us. She used frequently to be 
 in the room when I was playing the piano. She was not 
 long in disclosing a deep musical aptitude. I gave her 
 what little instruction I could, and sent her to your city to 
 be perfected. She is now, as we judge, a singer and player 
 of the first order, and has many pupils in town. Again, 
 one Sunday there came to our house, in company with 
 many others, a poor, ragged boy from the North Part of 
 the Town. Some of our paintings were shown to him. 
 Again he came, and sat a long while looking at them. In 
 a few days, he brought us some rude chalk imitations of a 
 Sir Joshua Reynolds. Of course we should assist him. 
 His name is Elam Dater ; Julia Beach found him wander 
 ing in the streets, took him to Church, and had him come 
 to Mons Christi. He has taken some portraits, but his 
 forte is Landscape and Design. He has furnished us sev 
 eral fine views of Livingston, one of Mons Christi, as seen 
 from the Green, which I mean to send to you. He is now 
 engaged on an original work, the Beatitudes, to be executed 
 on one piece of canvas, having Christ with the green tree- 
 cross in the centre, and the several groups arranged about 
 him. It is to be purchased by Christ-Church members, and 
 put in the Church. So genius, as well as real estate, and 
 all good things, rise under the influence of an indomitable, 
 universal Christian Love. " When we love God and love 
 our fellow-men," says-our Bishop, " then and only then is 
 
284 MARGARET. 
 
 our insight clear, our judgment sound, our strength availa 
 ble, and our resolve steadfast. Hereby alone are we filled 
 with Virtue, inspired by Beauty, and moved to Greatness. 
 The Spirit of Christ in a man does more enlarge the mind, 
 develop the capabilities, animate the will, than all other 
 things. In the new Heavens and the new Earth, wherein 
 dwelleth Righteousness, Art, Poetry, Painting, Sculpture, 
 taking new forms from the divine life of the soul, shall 
 offer to the world unexampled creations, and transcendent 
 grandeur." This is the secret of what you behold in Liv 
 ingston, Anna ; all contained in a nutshell. 
 
 Music I cherish for its own sake, for my dear brother 
 Chilion s sake, my dear dead father s sake, and for Christ s 
 sake. Some of the Ancients did not encourage music, lest 
 it should weaken the temper of the people. The object of 
 most nations, Mr. Evelyn says, has been to make the citizen 
 subservient to the State. Nor has it been sufficient to en 
 slave his strength and drain his products, they must also pre 
 vent his proper moral growth. Ability to prosecute war has 
 been the test of a healthy national condition. Individuality 
 of character has been construed into rebellion, and simple 
 happiness stigmatized as effeminacy. To live for the State 
 became the chief end of man. We discern a higher end, 
 the glory of God. He made man musical ; Music is a 
 Divine gift, and God works in it. The more I reflect upon 
 Chilion, the more am I impressed with his greatness. His 
 conceptions, as I see them now, were magnificent, and his 
 execution powerful. But he was chaotic and undeveloped. 
 Only at the hour of his death did I understand the feelings 
 of his life. He came out, like the sun, at the close of a 
 cloudy day, glittered, and expired. His music always 
 thrilled me, as I have seen it blow many about, like leaves 
 in the wind. His violin was truly oracular, Orphean, 
 
MUSIC. 285 
 
 superhuman. Through it, I am sure, he would have com 
 municated much of the hidden mystery of the soul. Re 
 served in manner, hesitating in speech, his instrument 
 became his confidence, his utterance, his communicable self. 
 An Inexplicability took him from us ! Soul of Chilion, 
 descend into my soul ! If tears were song, I would sing 
 thee over the world ; when I have ceased to weep, I only 
 pray there may remain strength enough to sing. Yet like 
 an inapproachable star, his light descends to me from afar. 
 All Livingston has caught something of his spirit. There 
 were many, in whose hearts he silently sank, and upon 
 whom he scattered his wild but divine musical seeds. 
 Without speaking, he originated sensations in many a 
 breast ; without putting forth a hand, his designs have been 
 moulded into the beautiful forms of Art. Many pieces 
 which he played extemporaneously and aboriginally, I 
 remember ; Abiah Tapley is able to recall others ; so that 
 our Band is in possession, not only of his name and ideal, 
 but many of his creations. He very early taught me the 
 use of the violin, and in this way I have been able to retain 
 and distribute more of him than I otherwise should. I did 
 not know how good Chilion s music was, until I discovered 
 how much poor music there is in the world ! His frozen 
 words have thawed, and may be heard all over our Town. 
 Robert Bruce, since in his lifetime he could riot go to the 
 Holy Land, at his death ordered his heart to be embalmed 
 and carried thither. Chilion could not come to this our 
 Holy Land, but we have his embalmed melodies. 
 
 Have you not reflected that Christ was a singer? At 
 the Last Supper, " they sang a hymn." Mr. Evelyn says 
 he thinks it could not have been, what some suppose, the 
 Hillel of the Jews. David, he says, could not compose a 
 song for Christ. I think it was an extemporaneous swan- 
 
286 MARGARET. 
 
 song of Jesus. His voice itself, as I have heard it, is 
 pure music. Are not the Beatitudes the highest kind of 
 Poetry ? Or I should say, I do not think the highest kind 
 of Inspiration to be Poetry, I mean at least it is not rhyme. 
 In many of Christ s words are harmony and softness, 
 mellifluence and music. The Gospels seein to me truth 
 melodized. The best parts of the New Testament have 
 never been thrown into a lyric form ; even by those whose 
 profession was scripture versification. Master Elliman has 
 a copy of Sternhold and Hopkins, and I had as lief use it 
 as Watts; notwithstanding the great distance between 
 them. Your Mr. Belknap is better, but he falls sadly 
 below the true Gospel Idea. The Gospel, if it were under 
 stood, if with warm hearts they <l scended into the depths 
 of its spirit, our Poets, I am certain, could turn into rhyme 
 and beauty. Mr. Evelyn s volume, prepared for Christ- 
 Church, we like very much. Nature is musical, and God in 
 Nature ; the stars, the brooks ; so must all things become, 
 Religion, Life, Society, Intercourse, Labor, Politics, Con 
 troversy, Reform ; so speaks my sprite. " My Peace I 
 leave with you," said Jesus. The Peace of Jesus would 
 be the music of the world. 
 
 Beauty also has its own end and office. Beauty is 
 musical, music is beautiful. God made the trees of the 
 garden of Eden good to look upon, that is, beautiful. 
 Beauty is Truth s usher, whereby it is introduced to the 
 heart. No truth is received till it puts on a beautiful aspect. 
 The mind even seems to have the power of exorcising 
 Falsehood, expelling from it the spirit of Ugliness, and 
 transfusing it with that oT Beauty. People tell me they 
 never used to make up their minds to believe Theological 
 errors until they were first presented in a beautiful form. 
 The widow Luce says she was first made to see some beauty 
 
BEAUTY. 287 
 
 in the doctrine of Reprobation, before she assented to it ! 
 The old Prophets had ideas of beauty that we have lost 
 sight of. " The Beauty of the Lord our God be upon us," 
 says David. Then in the New Testament, Christ is called 
 the Beautiful Shepherd ; of the woman who anointed him 
 he says, " She hath wrought a Beautiful work on me." 
 St. Paul says, " Provide things Beautiful in the sight of all 
 men." This secret sentiment of high moral Beauty, 
 a Beautiful Goodness, runs through the Gospels. God is 
 Beautiful, and Christ has ever seemed to me the Beautiful 
 One, beyond all created description or compare. His 
 Beautiful Goodness won my unconscious child s heart, and 
 when I knew it not, made me its own ; and as it were 
 when I was asleep, impressed its image upon me, which re 
 appeared when I awoke, and still rises with my higher ex 
 istence of thought, and shall live with me forever. 
 
 The power of Beauty over what is known as the common 
 mind, our house and grounds, our statuary and paintings 
 furnish instances of, every day. " This is a beautiful spot," 
 people say, when they come to Mons Christi. I remember 
 overhearing old Mr. Shocks, the former Jail keeper, the 
 flintiest, dryest, Grossest man I ever saw, make that excla 
 mation ; and he really looked pleased when he said it. His 
 heart was touched. Innocent gladness is one of the most 
 beautiful things under the sun ; it is the roses and pansies 
 of humanity. Pa s gay humor, wicked though he was, 
 always impressed me as something beautiful. 
 
 How shall we account for this effect of Beauty ? I know 
 of no better way than that given by my Author. " It gets 
 in at our eyes, pores, nostrils ; engenders the same qualities 
 and affections in us as were in the party whence it came. 
 The rays sent from the object carry certain spiritual vapors 
 with them, and so infect the observer. Our spirits are in- 
 
288 MARGARET. 
 
 wardly moved by the subtle influence." In this connection, 
 Anna, read that what I shall call stupendous passage of St. 
 Paul, where speaking of Christ, he says, " Whom behold 
 ing, we are changed into the same image, from glory to 
 glory." If we only beheld Christ as we should, we should 
 be transformed into his Divinest Beauty ; there would be 
 engendered in us the same qualities and affections as are 
 in him. 
 
 Mr. Evelyn says, Christ is not preached as any complete 
 whole, soul and body ; not as a full-orb, deeply capacious 
 personal being ; but only as one who, in a certain moment, 
 did something, as one who, at the end of his life, died to 
 execute a certain intention of God. Hence nobody is 
 changed into the real image of Christ, but all are casting 
 about to satisfy themselves as to the application of that 
 single executive stroke of his. So many paintings of a 
 merely dead Christ I do not fancy. That by Giotto, from 
 which it is said mo:4 of the famous paintings in Europe 
 are obtained, originated thus ; the artist hired a man to 
 hang an hour on the cross, and at the expiration of the 
 time, instead of relieving him, stabbed him dead, and then 
 fell to drawing! Are we not more saved by a living, than 
 a dead Christ ? Is there nothing in a living Christ for a 
 painter to draw from, and a Christian too ? 
 
 Beauty, God s creation, is sinless and pure ; and it helps 
 to make us good. In 1529, when the soldiery took Flor 
 ence, and entered a monastery for purposes of pillage, 
 where was a picture of the Last Supper by Andrea, they 
 were so struck with it, they retired without committing any 
 violence. Such is the power of a living Christ, such is 
 the power of simple Beauty ! 
 
 The matter of Philosophy I shall leave wholly with Mr. 
 Evelyn. I think when we are Philosophers we shall have 
 
RECREATION. 289 
 
 Philosophy. Or if as he says, I am Philosophy, it is be 
 cause I am myself. Not being what we should be, our 
 speculations are buffoonery. Could we understand the 
 Philosophy of a single moment or atom, we should under 
 stand the Philosophy of Infinity. " Who by searching 
 can find out God ? " Could I understand God in the struc 
 ture of a head of fox-tail grass, I should know more than 
 all theosophists. Let me fall back and work the work of 
 Nature, so shall I work the work of God, and be above 
 all schools. Mr. Evelyn says the Germans will presently 
 surprise the age with the novelty of their views and gran 
 deur of their speculations. What avails speculation in 
 this slouched, vagabondish world ? Eternity is made up of 
 moments, let me live the present moment well, and I shall 
 live forever well. Immensity is composed of square rods, 
 let me tread well where I now stand, and I shall always 
 have a good foothold. Christ was a true Philosopher, let 
 me be a Christian. Mr. Evelyn says I act philosophically ; 
 I am only conscious of acting according to my nature. I 
 confess I am much less uneasy than I used to be ; I am 
 quite a convert to the Master, and as he once told me, 
 like a cow I have learned to eat my grass quietly and 
 thankfully, asking no questions. * God," says Job, " giveth 
 not account of any of his matters." Be He monotheistic 
 or pantheistic, as some dispute, my duty is one, to live well. 
 God is and I am, God lives and I live, God works and I 
 work, in God I shall be ; with this I am satisfied. A Uni, 
 verse of beauty, love, joy and truth are before me, let me 
 press on. So at least I feel to-day, and the morrow shall 
 take care for the things of itself. 
 
 Another distinct and stringent law of God and Nature is 
 recreation. Of the many kinds afloat, we have been obliged 
 to use care in our choice. What would Christ approve ? 
 
 VOL. IT. 25 
 
290 1TARGARET. 
 
 what is best ? we ask. In what can all ages and conditions 
 unite? What relaxes without weakening, is cheerful with 
 out frivolity, and offers attractions without danger ? Not 
 to the exclusion of other things, our election has fallen 
 on the Dance, a species of recreation enjoined in the Old 
 Testament, and recognized in the New ; one practised in 
 every age and country, and recommended by the sanction 
 of the best and greatest of men. All these things our 
 people were soberly pondering, while I had got my lesson 
 years ago. It has Music and Beauty for its garniture and 
 strength. Its intrinsic value has won for it the approval of 
 almost every body. It is enjoyed in all families ; parents 
 and children, husbands and wives dance together. It has 
 supplanted many ridiculous games, and extirpated cruel 
 sports. It has broken up drunken carousals and neutral 
 ized the temptation to ardent spirits. Having once 
 entered upon it, we become straightway sensible of its 
 advantages. Whatever grace is needed in person, or 
 courtesy in manners, it operates to perfect. And surely, 
 as my authority observes, "it is pleasant to see those pretty 
 knots and swimming figures." It brings the people together, 
 interests strangers, and diffuses a serene, whole-souled 
 harmony over the town. It has no boisterousness, and 
 much life. It embodies the recreative element in the 
 healthiest and holiest forms. Where all unite, there is no 
 excess. We praise God in the dances ; it is a hymn written 
 with our feet. I would dance as I would pray, for its own 
 sake, and because it is well-pleasing to God. Fenelon, 
 when one of his curates complained to him that his 
 parishioners would dance after their religious services, 
 replied, "Let us leave those poor people to dance; their 
 hours of happiness are not too numerous." This was kind 
 of the good Fenelon, but it indicates a bad state of society 
 
POLITICIANS. 291 
 
 when the greater part of life is a drudgery. We are 
 happy when we are at work, when we pray, as well as 
 when we dance. 
 
 We are great politicians, so at least President Jefferson 
 said. You will be amused. We were visited successively 
 by both the Presidents, Mr. Adams and Mr. Jefferson. 
 Mr. Adams s forte, Mr. Evelyn says, is the science of 
 government, on which topic he has written a book. Of 
 course he and Mr. Evelyn fell to talking politics. Said 
 lie, " I have perused the history of every monarchy and 
 republic, the records of which have descended to our times. 
 Salonina, the most virtuous and distinguished empress that 
 ever adorned a Roman throne, promised the Philosopher 
 Plotinus, that she would rebuild a decayed city of Cam 
 pania and appoint him over it, that he might experimentally 
 know, while presiding over a colony of philosophers, the 
 validity and use of the ideal laws of the republic of Plato. 
 The history of that republic I have never seen, until through 
 the hospitality which has invited me to your house and the 
 attention that has taken me over your town, I seem to be 
 all at once transported into the bosom of it / " President 
 Jefferson has the reputation of being less of a theorist, and 
 more acquainted with men as they are. Said he, " You 
 are the very best politicians in the land ; I wish the 
 country was full of such. You have freedom, competency, 
 virtue. I had rather be Mrs. Evelyn than William Pitt. 
 Don t you blench, though all danger menaces you. The 
 Government shall not molest you ; the nation is honored 
 by having within its borders the town of Livingston !" 
 
 "Courage!" said Diogenes to a young man whom he 
 saw blushing. "That is the color of virtue." One needed 
 courage to face this battery of applause. Epaminondas, 
 the day after his victory at Leuctra, came abroad in 
 
292 MARGARET. 
 
 squalid attire, and with an abject look, giving as a reason 
 that he was overmuch joyed the day before. I do not 
 understand that we need to put on sackcloth and ashes 
 because men are pleased with God s doings, nor behave 
 like a certain artist, somewhat whimsical he was, who, when 
 one praised a statue he was making, smote it with his ham 
 mer and dashed it in pieces. 
 
 I recollect, when I was keeping school, overhearing at 
 Esq. Beach s one evening a sort of grave snip-snap about 
 Napoleon s return from Egypt, Russia seceding from the 
 Coalition, Tom Jefferson becoming President, and what not. 
 There were Esq. Beach on one side, Esq. Weeks on the 
 other, and Esq. Bowker, a sort of third party man. Indeed 
 you would have thought a new geological cataclysm was at 
 hand, and we were about to be submerged in some diplo 
 matic ocean, or swallowed by some Megalosaurian man. 
 These men are all on one side now, that of Christ and 
 Love. Our people have lost all fear of England or 
 France, and Mr. Jefferson has at heart, I think, some of the 
 noblest purposes that ever filled a human breast. If the 
 great Suwarrow comes amongst us and behaves discreetly, 
 he shall be welcome ; but if he goes to playing his pranks, 
 we shall have to open our meal-bags upon him. 
 
 These Megalosaurian Men, O Anna ! But in the New 
 Earth now in process of creation, we shall dig for their 
 remains, as we do for other fossils, and wonder, not how 
 they got in there, but how they could have subsisted. We 
 do not lean on an arm of flesh whereby we are cursed, but 
 on that of God ; and what saith the Prophet ? " Blessed 
 is the man that trusteth in the Lord ; he shall be as a tree 
 planted by the waters, and that spreadeth out her roots by 
 the river, and shall see when heat corneth, but her leaf 
 shall be green. * " Who is he that will harm you, if ye be 
 
UNITY AND TARIETT. 293 
 
 followers of that which is good ? " is the question of 
 Christianity. " Fear not, little flock, it is your Father s 
 good pleasure to give you the kingdom," are the words of 
 Christ. What Atheistic, Anti-Christian fear pervades 
 Church and State ! How much men pay, and do, to dem 
 onstrate their infidelity. 
 
 I am writing a long, long letter. Like Elihu, the son of 
 Barachel, the Buzite, I could have answered and said, " I 
 am young, and ye are very old, wherefore I was afraid and 
 durst not show you mine opinion. But great men are not 
 always wise. Therefore I said, Hearken to me. I am full 
 of matter. I am ready to burst like new bottles. I will 
 speak, that I may be refreshed." I am sensible, Anna, 
 that I have not told you every thing that your interest 
 relates to, and Mr. Evelyn urges me on to give you my 
 views and notions. 
 
 There are individual histories in town, each in itself 
 sufficient to make a book. We read accounts of conver 
 sions ; I could recite you some here equal to any you ever 
 heard of. When the Lives of our Saints and the E^ploit^ 
 of our Champions shall be published, it will make a volunofe 
 superior to any that has issued from the press for a year or 
 two. I wish you could hear what is rehearsed at our house 
 every week, of battles won on the field of Evil, of tempta 
 tions endured from the world ; the poor becoming rich in 
 grace ; the bespotted finding their way up to virtue ; the 
 fearful overcoming their dread ; the persecuted blessing 
 their enemies ; the proud humbling themselves, and such 
 things. There is a long story of Elam Dater ; there is 
 Miss Arunah Shocks encountering inward foes, such as 
 might have intimidated St. George himself; there are the 
 trials of Hiram Ravel, in the North Part of the Town, that 
 would embellish a Book of Martyrs ; there is the convic- 
 25* 
 
294 MARGARET. 
 
 tion and conversion of John Weeks, reminding you of 
 George Fox ; there are Isabel, Dorothy, Triandaphelda 
 Ada Hadlock, Sylvina Pottle, and others, whose biogra 
 phies ought to be written. But I leave them for the 
 present. 
 
 We are a united but not an identical population, Mr. 
 Evelyn wishes me to tell you. Striped grass planted with 
 other species, becomes of one color, an uniform green. 
 For one, I wish to see no such loss of individuality and 
 absorption in the aggregate. Let each spear retain its own 
 lines, each man his own qualities, and why, as Deacon 
 Ramsdill says, can they not all live happily and perfectly 
 together in the same field, the same town ? I do not wish 
 the people all to do as we do, only I do wish to see them 
 Beautiful, True, Happy, Christian. The town is eight 
 miles long by six broad ; it contains two hundred farms, 
 three stores, two taverns, one Church, six school-houses, 
 three or four joiners shops, a tannery, fulling-mill, grist 
 mill, blacksmith shops, et cetera. A right spirit prevails 
 with the major part of the inhabitants ; that is our identity. 
 Each one eats his own meals, maintains his own family, 
 follows his own calling, thinks his own thoughts, dies his 
 own death ; in this we are separated. Unity in variety is a 
 good motto. There are many common interests, our 
 Church, our Festivals, Roads, Cemetery, Dances, Library, 
 Schools, Music, Art, Love, Christ, Nature, God. The in 
 habitants of ancient Cuma, were reputed stupid by their 
 neighbors ; but it was found they owed this character to 
 their virtues. We are indifferent to some things that en 
 gage and distract the world. But there is life, spirit and en 
 terprise among the people. Sour rivalries, envious associ 
 ation, jostling activities, are not. To perfect ourselves, our in 
 stitutions, our Town, is a life-work. If there arises a dispute 
 
UNITY AND VARIETY. 295 
 
 there are trusty people to whom we are glad to refer the 
 matter. Nor can any one take advantage of our confidence. 
 The spirit of Christ is lynx-eyed ; or as our Bishop says, 
 it penetrates the secret things of darkness, unmasks the 
 hypocrite, and reads the heart of the designing. " If we 
 should all become good," you said, " there would nothing 
 remain whereby to keep philanthropy and benevolence 
 alive." Love, like jeolousy, grows with that it feeds on ; 
 thrives on itself. Like plants, the fruits of the Spirit 
 mature best in a soil where the elements are analogous. 
 Virtue grows on God, as the misletoe on oaks. Does God 
 ever decay ? 
 
 Need 1 say any thing more of myself, or of my connec 
 tion with these things ? Can a bee tell how it builds its 
 comb ? Other people might give you a more satisfactory 
 account, but to me it seems to have grown up as corn grows. 
 Judge Morgridge is about publishing a little history of our 
 affairs, which 1 recommend to your friends. The leaves 
 of the five-finger draw together to shelter the flower when 
 it rains, and open when the sun comes out. So have I 
 done to my plans ; can I tell how ? The Widow Wright 
 taught me Utility ; " Not looks, it s use, child," was her 
 maxim. The hang bird taught me Caution. Mother 
 Goose s Melodies taught me not to cry when I could not 
 help a thing. But more than this, if we could but see it, 
 there is a waiting for Goodness and Truth in all souls. 
 " In every bone there is a marrow, and beneath every 
 jacket lives a man," says the Arab proverb. Then through 
 the world wanders the spirit of love, though she be no more 
 than the chipping bird that builds a nest in the rose-bush, 
 or a butterfly that shimmers over a dirty pool. 
 
 Did I have dreams which others enjoyed not ? Were 
 they mature and finished even beyond my experience? 
 
296 MARGARET. 
 
 In this also is not the Scripture fulfilled? " In a dream he 
 openeth the ears of men, and sealeth their instruction." 
 Did Christ himself come very near to me and speak with 
 me ? As the disciples after Christ s death understood many 
 sayings of their Master that were hidden before, so have I 
 in latter years come to understand the deep meanings of 
 Christ to me. I must live his childhood s life; I must 
 grow up in his image ; " his life must be made manifest 
 in my mortal body," as St. Paul has it. When I came to 
 compare the inward Christ of my soul with the historical 
 Christ, whom Mr. Evelyn made known to me, they flowed 
 together and mingled in one. 
 
 I had dreams too of Beauty and Art, a Classical Magi 
 cian waved over me his wand. Could I see the chain that 
 binds together Christianity, ^Esthetics, Heroism ! But in 
 me they are one, in the world they are at odds. I could 
 not rest till these things went forth in forms and life. In 
 purity and love have we genius ; the Gospel gives beauty 
 to the eye, and holiness to the soul. Our Cross, not like 
 Constantine s which he bore at the head of his armies, 
 blossoms as the rose, and heals up the ravages of war. 
 Our Oriflamb of silver whiteness is such as the Apostle 
 John might have unfurled when he started on his mission 
 of love. I am dealing with great subjects and such as are 
 quite beyond my depth. I admire old Atlas, but I have 
 neither his thews nor his good nature, I cannot bear up the 
 world. I remember when Hash was driving a cart up a 
 hill, I used to trig the wheels for him. If any Demiurgic 
 Teamster is disposed to drive the Cart of Peace and Good 
 Will over the Earth, I stand ready to trig the wheels in all 
 the steep places ; beyond this I cannot do. My hand aches 
 with writing, as your eyes must with reading. Wait till 1 
 
LIVINGSTON BEAUTIFUL. 297 
 
 return Rose is at the door on horseback ; we are going to 
 
 take a ride. 
 
 ******** 
 
 We went full four miles to the North Part, and carried 
 supplies to a poor sick family there. How beautiful is our 
 town! No European village that I have heard of, no 
 American village that I have seen, is so beautiful. Here 
 are views that would, I will engage, match you with 
 Greenwich Tower, or St. Mark s Steeple in Venice ; the 
 Green with its majestic rim of elms, thanks to our fore 
 fathers, and its central star, the Fountain ; the Cemetery 
 with its white monuments under the green trees; the River 
 beyond the Village, the fine houses on Grove Street ; Aunt 
 Wiswall s, whose house and ornamental grounds cover the 
 burnt forest; Col. Welch s, Mons Christi, our house, Rufus s 
 tasteful seat, and above all, the Cross. That Cross, seen at 
 sunset among the gorgeous clouds, is superb. Rose, who 
 used to be afraid of thunder-storms, says she looks to that 
 and grows quiet. In all the streets, and many of the by 
 ways are ornamental trees, elms, maples, and others ; the 
 houses of the town are painted in various pretty colors. 
 You meet such happy, loving faces, and such merry groups 
 of children; the old people seem so warm-hearted and 
 benevolent ; the young men and women are easy and 
 polite. Esqs. Beach and Bowker we met ; they had been 
 arbitrating on a case. This is now their principal business, 
 and they get ample pay for it. Even people come in from 
 other towns and great distances to employ them. They say 
 they can trust Livingston lawyers ! Mr. Adolphus Had- 
 lock also we saw. He has twice sold out and moved from 
 town, and twice returned. No poor man was ever so 
 frightened. But the conversion of his Triandaphelda Ada 
 and the marriage of his son Socrates to Dorothy, seem to 
 
298 MARGARET. 
 
 have reconciled him ; and he walks the streets now more 
 li 1 e a man than that "Aunt Dolphy." The Jail, in which 
 are only two persons, is tenanted by a man with his 
 family, who was originally confined for murder ; he was 
 converted through the instrumentality of the Bishop, par 
 doned by the Governor, and now keeps an agricultural 
 seed and implement store. Old Alexis Robinson, who 
 became wholly insane, and was confined in the old Jail, has 
 recovered his senses, and is supported handsomely by the 
 town, and has a room in the new prison, dwelling-house, or 
 whatever it be. Master Elliman has dubbed Livingston 
 L.L.D., Laudabilis Locus Domini., 
 
 Holy and delightsome is the Barth ! God saw that 
 every thing he had made was very good. I bless God for 
 the dandelions that bestar the green grass ; I bless him for 
 the song-sparrow that sings out against my window ; I 
 bless him for the little Jane Girardeau that is here playing 
 with the kitten. What an ecstasy were the golden fires 
 kindled as the Sun went down last night, and the polished 
 silver dawn I saw at four o clock this morning, set with the 
 Mohmaraedan s sign of worship, the crescent Moon. The 
 Spring, the Summer, the Autumn, the Winter, do feast and 
 ravish me. Not the anagogical Hebrew Oil, compounded 
 of stacte, onycha, galbanum, had so sweet a perfume as that 
 with which I am daily anointed, and which maketh my 
 face to shine in innumerable flowers that fill the woods and 
 ways all the season through. The best prayer I can offer 
 is to use all things well ; my highest gratitude, enjoyment. 
 Sin, I cannot. All things are incense to me, the brooks, 
 the fogs, the clouds, the sky ; I will be incense to God ; 
 like my dear Redeemer, a sweet smelling savor. Into me 
 the Universe flows, from me it turns back to its Maker. 
 If I cannot tell the cause of the flux and reflux, like Aris- 
 
THE GALLOWS. 299 
 
 totle on the banks of the Euripus, I will not get angry and 
 die. 
 
 How singularly are we situated ! On one side you 
 approach Mons Christi, by the Delectable Way, on another, 
 by the Via SaJutaris ; the Eastern Avenue is the Via Dol- 
 orosa ; across the place runs the Brook Kedron ! Names 
 taken up in stark caprice have become animated with the 
 deepest significance. Our Bishop had told the people 
 there was a street in Jerusalem called the Via Dolorosa, 
 through which Christ is said to have borne his Cross to 
 Calvary. One Sunday Miss Arunah Shooks, deeply im 
 pressed with a sense of her sinfulness, as she said, in hav 
 ing so often offended Christ and broken the laws of the 
 Gospel, came up that way, alone ; she said she wanted to 
 bear her cross to Mons Christi. And what do you think 
 that cross was ? This, she said, that she treated me so 
 rudely when I went to see Chilion in the Jail, and she 
 wanted to come and ask my forgiveness. She said she had 
 long struggled with her convictions, but after the confes 
 sion, she felt a load drop off. Livingston itself a name 
 derived from a respectable American family the Living 
 Stone, disallowed, it may be, of men, but chosen of God 
 and precious ; the Stone cut out of a mountain without 
 hands may it at least become a Mountain great enough to 
 fill its own place in the Earth ! 
 
 I did not tell you that my old friend Ben Bolter is here. 
 One of his legs was shot off by the Tripolitans ; he has 
 made a full-rigged miniature schooner for Gottfried, and 
 they sail together on the Pond. My boy may become a 
 sailor, after all. Ben Bolter exhibits gratifying tokens of 
 a renewed mind. 
 
 In the North part of the town, on the very spot where 
 the Gallowe stood, and Chilion wag hung, has been 
 
300 MARGARET. 
 
 erected a monumental piece, representing Moses kneeling 
 to Christ and surrendering the Book of the Hebrew Code ; 
 Christ appears as it were closing the Book with his foot 
 the action being partially veiled by drapery. It is exquis- 
 itly done ; Art is satisfied, Justice acquiesces, Humanity 
 triumphs. 
 
 We have a Library indeed, but how few good books ! Is it 
 a dream ; or has some one said it, or will some one say it, 
 or is it my sprite that says " America has not fulfilled 
 the reasonable expectations of mankind. Men looked, 
 when all feudal straps and bandages were stripped asunder, 
 that Nature, too long the mother of dwarfs, would reim 
 burse herself in a brood of Titans, who should laugh and 
 leap in the continent, and run up the mountains of the West 
 with the errand of genius and love." A very facetious 
 sprite is that, whoever he be. He reminds me of a cer 
 tain Talmudic God, that spent his time whittling sharp 
 sticks, wherewith he was wont at his leisure to prick the 
 sides of mortals and enjoy their grimaces. " We have a 
 thousand authors of all sorts," says Father Burton, two 
 hundred years ago. But in truth I have found little to enter 
 tain me more than " The Loves of Osmund and Duraxa," 
 I saw in Boston some years since. So I must conclude 
 myself a mere block that is affected by none of them, ac 
 cording to the writer aforesaid, As soon as Napoleon 
 finds his quietus, I hope the world will take breath again, 
 and somebody be moved to write a good book here in 
 America. 
 
 We have had our crosses frequent and severe, individual 
 and corporate, personal and social. The last the Town 
 was called to endure fell out in this wise. The following 
 appeared in the Kidderminster Chronicle : 
 
 "Livingston. We have long kept silence about the 
 
REFORMS GRADUAL. 301 
 
 movements in this place ; but the matter has become too 
 public to excuse any further negligence. Over the Red 
 Dragon of Infidelity they have drawn the skin of the PapaJ 
 Beast, and tricked the Monster with the trappings of Har 
 lotry ! On the ruins of one of our Churches they have 
 erected a Temple to Human Pride and Carnal Reasoning. 
 The contamination is spreading far and wide ; and unless 
 something be attempted, the Kingdom of God in our midst 
 must soon be surrendered to the arts of Satan. It is 
 understood that the Rev. Mr. L , of B , has openly and 
 repeatedly exchanged pulpits with the man who, having 
 denied his Lord and Master, they have had the hardihood 
 to invest with the robes of the Christian Office. Brethren, 
 shall we sleep, while the enemy is sowing tares in our 
 midst ? CLERICUS." 
 
 A convention of Clergy was soon called at Kiddermin 
 ster, before which the Rev. Mr. Lovers, of Brandon, the 
 gentleman alluded to, was summoned. He had made three 
 or four exchanges with the Bishop. His prosecutor was 
 the Rev. Mr. Orstead, of Windenboro , who wrote the 
 notice for the paper. The trial went on two or three days. 
 The council was divided on the question of withdrawing 
 fellowship from Mr. Lovers, suspending or deposing him. 
 But their meeting was brought to a conclusion in an un 
 foreseen way. While they were debating what to do, an 
 accuser appeared against Mr. Orstead, in the person of an 
 unmarried female, who charged upon him a child she had 
 recently borne. His guilt was so far proved, that he con 
 fessed it. Mr. Lovers was saved, and Mr. Orstead degrad 
 ed. The unhappy man, despised at home, Edward went 
 to see, and invited him to Livingston, where he has spent 
 some months ; and I hope has become a better man. 
 
 During the excitement this affair gave our people, Dr. 
 
 VOL. n. 26 
 
302 MARGARET. 
 
 Freeman came to see us and renew those condolences and 
 sympathies he has so often expressed for us. While at our 
 house, he told me this story. When the Dutch in Albany, 
 some years since, would renew and enlarge their Church, 
 they suffered the old one to remain, and erected the new 
 one about it, completely enclosing it. Their worship con 
 tinued in the old place till the new house was nearly done. 
 They then tore the old Church to pieces, and carried the 
 fragments out of the door of the new one, into the finishing 
 of which they entered. * Great reforms," continued the 
 Doctor, " must be gradual. It is easier to tear down than 
 to build up ; easier to remove an error than supply a truth. 
 Rome was not built in a day. There are more Alarics 
 than Romuluses in the world." This is a good story, and 
 you have it for what it is worth. " But I see," said the 
 Doctor, " you have built up far more than you ever pulled 
 down." I replied that we had not sought to pull down 
 any thing, but rather to put life into what was dead, and 
 reinstate Christ in his own Church. He agreed that it 
 was so. 
 
 As regards those who oppose us, could we, as did Nicho 
 las Sture, that Swede who, when he was stabbed by his 
 Sovereign, drew out the sword, kissed it, and returned it ; 
 could we so meet all attacks, happy were we. " Tell me 
 how I may be revenged on my enemy ? " said some one t) 
 Diogenes. " By becoming more virtuous," replied the 
 philosopher. We are charged with Infidelity ! Will un- 
 kindness, traducement, insinuation, bleardness, never cease ? 
 Anaxagoras, the most religious of Philosophers, was perse 
 cuted for profanity ; Socrates was condemned lor a 
 heretic ; Christ himself was executed as a blasphemer, 
 impostor and insurgent ! When Pyrrho, who professed 
 indifference to all evils, was reproached for driving off a 
 
REFORMS GRADUAL. 803 
 
 dog that flew at him, " Ah," replied he, " it is difficult to 
 bear every thing ! " So indeed it is ; but as he added, 
 "We must try." The Athenians constructed a statue from 
 the marble which the Persians brought to raise as a monu 
 ment to their victories. We will make no ovation out of 
 this signal defeat of our enemies ; I feel disposed the rather 
 to weep over human follies. 
 
 What will become of us ? If we trust in God, we have 
 his promise, that the waters shall not overflow us, or the 
 fire burn us. We abide under the shadow of his wing. 
 That a great work has been done here none can deny. It 
 is said that certain fish, when brought to the surface of the 
 water, sometimes burst from the rarefaction of the air. 
 Livingston has been raised from lowest depths. Yet it 
 seems to me so compact in all its proportions, that it can 
 not fall asunder. The world may wholly leave us ; but 
 the thrush sings sweetest in the loneliest woods, and we 
 will keep up our song in solitude. The Spartans were 
 forbidden to pursue a flying foe ; we shall not follow our 
 retreating enemies with any intent to kill ; nor shall we 
 turn our backs upon them if they rally again. 
 
 Orpheus has seemed to me a natural prophecy of Christ ; 
 a part of the groaning of the creation after the Redemp 
 tion. By the sweetness of his music he drew the wild 
 beasts after him ; he caused trees and rocks to move ; his 
 strains subdued the rulers of Hell ; through the charms of 
 his melody the wheel of Ixion stopped, and even the furies 
 relented. His music was at last drowned by a hoarse, dis 
 cordant horn. He was himself, too, torn in pieces, and the 
 river Helicon, sacred to him, hid itself under ground. Our 
 Pond I used to call the Lake of Orpheus, at the Master s 
 suggestion that here those waters had risen. I have since 
 called it the Lake of Christ. Such Orphean music was he ! 
 
304 MARGARET. 
 
 He drew after him a whole age. He stilled the fury of 
 man and the malice of devils. Some hoarse, discordant 
 horn was raised in the Church ; his music was quenched ; 
 he was torn in pieces ; his waters hid under the earth, 
 as I would fain fancy, have appeared on Mons Christi ! 
 Whither now shall the Christian Helicon flow ? 
 
 THE END. 
 
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