Hi
 
 BELLA; 
 
 OR, 
 
 THE CEADLE OE LIBERTY. 
 
 BY 
 
 MES. EUGENIA ST. JOHN. 
 
 THIRD EDITION. 
 
 BOSTON: 
 PUBLISHED BY N. D. BERRY. 
 
 1874.
 
 Entered according to Act of Congress, in tlie year 1873, 
 
 BY N. D. BERRY, 
 In the Oflice of the Librarian of Congress, at Washington. 
 
 Boston: Printed by Alfred Mudge & Sen.
 
 CTfjts 93ooft is DrttcatrU. 
 
 IT IS A. BOOK OF TRUTH; AND AS SUCH 
 
 WE GIVE IT TO THE COUNTRY, ASKING THAT GOD S BLESSING 
 MAY GO WITH IT. 
 
 THE AUTHOR. 
 
 2062097
 
 PEEFAOE. 
 
 have not collected statistics to show the numbers 
 of our people who are shut into the large and ele 
 gant locked buildings erected and sustained all over 
 the intelligent portions of our country ; but observing 
 the daily committals to one, and casting a cursory 
 glance abroad at the others, we can form an estimate that 
 will show us that there is a fearful mistake in the nation, 
 a wrong that the intelligence of the people should investi* 
 gate, a wrong that is every day deepening into the people s 
 lives. 
 
 A poet gives us an ideal picture of the passage to Inferno, 
 in which the people are walking with their faces backward. 
 The ideal finds its graphic reality in prisons and asylums, 
 where people do walk with their faces introverted upon the 
 past of their lives ; and, excluded from present happiness, 
 the past becomes a depth from which Memory draws to 
 quench the agonies of the terrible present. 
 
 An imprisoned American is like a Fourth of July shut up 
 without a fire-cracker. It wants to explode, but cannot. 
 It gets angry, and snaps, or, yielding to its fate, sinks, 
 faints, expires. 
 
 One might laugh at the present irrational mode of treatr 
 ing irrational minds, as we laugh at a well-acted farce, were 
 it not for the tragedies at the end. But farce ceases to prp-
 
 6 PKEPACE. 
 
 ) 
 
 vote merriment when it has lines eternal and immortal in 
 its acts. 
 
 That we may convey to the outside world some idea of 
 the inner workings of our asylums, and give people some 
 deductions derived from observation of them, this tale is 
 written. We can say literally that the facts are truth, hut 
 they are not the whole truth ; for, of the sufferings in con 
 nection with these legal houses for imprisoning the insane, 
 the half can never be told. The institutions may bear the 
 name of asylums, or hospitals, but they are prisons ; and 
 persons who have lived in them as patients know well how 
 to judge of the effects of imprisonment, both in its moral 
 and physical hearings. 
 
 MBS. E. ST. J.
 
 BELLA.
 
 BELLA; 
 
 OB, 
 
 THE CRADLE OF LIBERTY. 
 
 CHAPTER I. 
 
 " My country ! tis of thee, 
 Sweet land of liberty ! 
 
 Of thce I sing : 
 Land where my fathers died ; 
 Land of the pilgrim s pride : 
 From every mountain-side 
 
 Let freedom ring. 
 
 LEAK, and loud rang out these words from the sten 
 torian lungs of young Mortimer Beale. They 
 pealed forth into the evening air like a tocsin of 
 alarm. The mists of twilight caught them as they 
 rolled ; and back they went upon the dampened at 
 mosphere, reverberating upon the ears of the singer in full 
 tones of his own creation. Mortimer admired his own voice : 
 its deep bass, its mellow, higher tones, its full development 
 from his strong lungs and broad chest, made his own sing 
 ing an object of his own admiration. 
 
 9
 
 10 BELLA ; 
 
 But not for that was he singing now. A more unselfish 
 motive prompted his outpourings ,as he went homeward 
 through the evening of the exciting day, the day of days 
 to him, because he had put his name down with the list of 
 volunteers who were to rush southward for freedom and for 
 freedom s government. 
 
 " My country ! tis of thee," 
 
 He had begun, for the third time, that wonderful refrain 
 that is the very Marsellaise of American hearts, when 
 he caught a glimpse of the suggestive talisman, the mon 
 ument, that, though not living, yet has a voice that speak- 
 eth. Plain and simple is the shaft ; yet it tells to us a tale 
 of which we never weary, a story that is to us sacred in its 
 divinity. It tells of the battle of Lexington, that little 
 skirmish when the untrained yeomen dared the regular foe, 
 and Liberty spoke through her new and broad highways. 
 
 Nearly a century had passed since that battle ; and Mor 
 timer had read the tablet till every letter of it was engraved 
 on his youthful soul, and the history of it was a part of his 
 childhood s lesson. In spirit he had fought that battle a 
 hundred times. He had rushed out from behind trees, and 
 popped at red-coats ; he had slung his powder-horn on his 
 back, and gone bravely forth with his life in his hand. 
 
 Mortimer had grown up Freedom s own child. His 
 mother had nurtured him as such, and his father taught 
 him its inner essence. Some predicted that he would come 
 to ruin unless he was curbed ; but his father had no fear. 
 He trusted the innate strength that lay within his only 
 boy, and felt that he would go through life guided by the 
 inner light that was his by birth and maternal training. 
 And Mortimer knew that they trusted him. He knew that 
 they threw him upon his own strength, asking only that he 
 should account to them and to his God for truth and 
 honor.
 
 OB, THE CRADLE OP LIBERTY. 11 
 
 Of whippings he had none. Not once in his life could 
 lie remember that a heavy hand had been laid on him, or a 
 rod, or any coercive punishment. Few were the commands 
 he had ever received, fewer still the cross words ; but of in 
 struction in every intelligence known to common life, and 
 of beautiful parental example, he had much. His religious 
 teaching was not precisely of the old Puritanic stamp ; but 
 it had in it the eternal creeds of justice, truth, and right. 
 
 This night the boy s soul was full. His name stood in 
 fair characters on the enlistment roll. He was his own no 
 longer. He belonged to his Country now : he was one of her 
 champions, ready to do her bidding, and to go whitherso 
 ever he was sent. As he passed the monument, it had a 
 new charm for him ; for was not he to be like those old he 
 roes ? Was not he to fight in a cause as worthy as theirs ? 
 And did not his soul burn with a hero s fire ? Did not he 
 feel it glow ? 
 
 " My native country ! thee, 
 Land of the noble free," 
 
 pealed the boy. 
 
 He had now passed the monument and several houses. 
 He was coming near to a roomy old mansion, a place that 
 had been aristocratic in its day, and still maintained some 
 thing of its pretentious character. The style of the house 
 was old; but it was suggestive of comfort and plenty within 
 and without. The apple and cherry trees, the barns and 
 sheds, the spacious kitchen-garden, and the flower-beds 
 well kept, spoke of well-timed industry, thrift, and energy. 
 Mortimer s cottage was beyond this house ; but his feet 
 turned toward it as familiarly as toward his own little home, 
 and almost as gladly ; for scarce a day passed but he was 
 in and out and all over those premises with perfect famil 
 iarity. 
 * It was twilight now ; and Mortimer swung himself off
 
 12 BELLA ; 
 
 from the highway, and turned toward this house, with the 
 song still ringing from his mouth, 
 
 " Protect us by thy might, 
 Great God, our King. " 
 
 " Halloo ! " called a voice through the evening air. 
 
 " Halloo ! " he replied, the song echoing away, and the 
 cheerful greeting filling its place. " Halloo, Bella ! Where 
 are you ? I ve done it. " 
 
 A young head lifted itself above the garden-gate, and a 
 young face looked sober. 
 
 " O-o-oh, Mortimer ! " 
 
 " I have ! I ve signed, and I am going ! " 
 
 You ll be killed, Mortie." 
 
 " How do you know I shall be killed ? " 
 
 " Everybody that goes to war gets killed." 
 
 " Ho ! No, they don t ! Some only get wounded ; and 
 some come out unhurt, and some get to be colonels and all 
 that sort of thing. How would you like that for me ? " 
 
 " Ddar me ! I am more afraid you will be killed." 
 Mortimer straightened up with the look of a brave. 
 " Well, if I am killed, I shall lie down in the grave of my 
 glory : and l nor in sheet nor in shroud will they bind 
 me ; but I shall lie in my martial cloak, and they will lay 
 me slowly and solemnly down " 
 
 "Don t, Mortie!" 
 
 " Why ? Wouldn t you like to have me enshrouded in 
 glory?" 
 
 " I would rather have you at home, and the other men 
 too. What do they want to go off and fight for ? " 
 
 "What for? Why, Bella Forresst ! I thought you 
 knew all about it. Fort Sumter has been struck, the Union 
 flag insulted ; and Lincoln calls upon the country to defend 
 itself. Isn t that enough ? " 
 
 " I don t know. You ll all get killed by those ugly men."
 
 OE, THE CRADLE OF LIBERTY. 13 
 
 " Pshaw ! Perhaps we shall be more ugly than they. 
 I mean to do my part ; and Ed is of the same opinion." 
 
 " Ed ! " exclaimed the girl. " Is Edward going ? " 
 
 " He signed with me." 
 
 Bella burst into tears. The sweetness of her young life 
 seemed suddenly dropped out. Edward was her youngest 
 brother ; and they two, the youngest of ten, were always as 
 comforts to each other in trouble, and joys in happiness. 
 They were the pets of their parents, and were always ten 
 derly cherished by their older brothers and sisters. Their 
 lives had been as blossoms in the midst of a garden, shielded 
 from rude winds, and sheltered from scorching suns. But 
 now the thunder of war had rolled over the country ; and 
 the two pets were the first to feel the jar. 
 
 Mortimer looked at Bella s tears in astonishment. 
 
 " I didn t think you was a baby," he said in a surprised 
 tone. " I thought you had pluck." 
 
 " So I have pluck." 
 
 She wiped her eyes with a small hem-stitched handker 
 chief. " I have pluck." 
 
 " The pluck of a girl ! " He laughed as he said it. 
 " Come, now, be brave ! We are only going down to hit 
 those fellows a few shots, just to teach them that they can t 
 insult our flag." 
 
 " But you and Edward both ! What shall I do ? " 
 
 " Why, you must stay at home, and help keep things 
 going. You must be a heroine, just as the women were in 
 the days of the Eevolution, when they fought right here 
 on this ground. You will be a soldier s sweetheart, you 
 know ; and I shall be your knight." 
 
 " I didn t know I was your sweetheart," she answered, 
 looking up ; with a laugh. " I m only Bella, and you are 
 Mortie." 
 
 " I know But you are my sweetheart, and I shall 
 
 2
 
 14 BELLA ; 
 
 never have any other ; and, when I come back a hero, you 
 will be a hero s bride." 
 
 " I would rather you would not go," she responded in a 
 childlike way. 
 
 " But you will be my bride when I come back ? " 
 
 " Do you really mean so ? " 
 
 " Certainly I do ; only you must not tell, because you 
 are only fifteen, and I am only eighteen. Folks would 
 laugh at us." 
 
 " Oh, no ! I won t tell. But it seems so funny ! You and 
 I, Mortie?" 
 
 "Yes, you and I, just y^ou and I, Bella. That is 
 enough. Don t you like me better than any one ? " 
 
 " I don t like any one else, only Edward ; and, of course, 
 I couldn t marry him." 
 
 " Of course not : so now we are engaged. And you 
 mustn t cry any more. And you won t desert me, will you, 
 ever ? " 
 
 " Oh, no, Mortie ! Why, no ! I will never desert you, 
 never in my life ! " 
 
 " Then give me a lock of this." And, as he spoke, he 
 lifted a long, shining black curl with one hand, and, putting 
 his other hand in his pocket, he drew thence a knife, opened 
 it with his teeth, and severed the jetty tress at a swoop. 
 Then he held it up in the twilight, and its coils waved in 
 the breeze. 
 
 " There," said he, " that s my token ! And now I ll be 
 off. I shall see you again before I go, a half a dozen 
 times, perhaps. But don t tell. Adieu ! " 
 
 Then he turned away ; and the young girl watched his 
 shadow disappear in the deepening gloom. There was no 
 song on his lips ; but there was one in his heart, as she 
 knew. And, as she put up her hand to close the space 
 whence the curl was taken, she felt a sweet young song
 
 OB, THE CKADLE OF LIBERTY. 15 
 
 rising up in her own. The song is really old as the world, 
 old as love ; but to every heart there is a time when its 
 strains are new. 
 
 "What a funny fellow he is," she thought, "to ask 
 me right here to marry him ! But I will. I would rather 
 be his wife than anybody s; and I am so glad he asked 
 me!" 
 
 Then she turned ; and, wending her way through the 
 garden-path, she entered the back-door of the house, not 
 as she had left it half an hour before, but with a secret, a 
 life-secret, to keep and cherish unknown. She forgot it, 
 however, as soon as she entered the door, in the unwonted 
 scene that presented itself. 
 
 There was a family conclave, the father and mother, 
 all the older members of the family who were at home, and 
 Edward in the midst. As Bella entered, she heard her 
 sister Nellie say, " The idea ! That child ! Surely, father, 
 you will forbid it." 
 
 Before the father could reply, Bella rushed forward, and 
 threw her arms about her young brother s neck. " 
 Eddie, I know all about it ! You are going to the war ! " 
 
 " I am in a war now," he answered, looking about the 
 room. 
 
 Bella, too, glanced around; then released her brother s 
 neck, and rushed to her father. 
 
 " papa ! you will let him go ? " 
 
 " Why, puss ! you asking for him to go ! " 
 
 " Yes, papa ; because because he wants to go." 
 
 She was about to say, " Because Mortie wants him," but 
 checked herself. 
 
 " But you don t know the danger," said the old father, 
 stroking the long, glossy curls of the child. " War is not 
 all glory." 
 
 " papa ! it is not for glory that Edward goes : it ia 
 for the flag, you know, the star-spangled banner."
 
 16 BELLA ; . 
 
 " What an old child ! " said Miss Nellie, in mockery. 
 " How devoted to her country ! Quite a heroine ! " 
 
 But the father paid no attention to the speaker. He only 
 looked at Edward, and drew his arm around Bella for a 
 moment. Then he said, " Yes, I ought to be willing ; I 
 ought to be willing. Go, my son, but don t talk about 
 it to-night. Let me think, and settle my mind, before we 
 talk." 
 
 Bella put one little kiss upon her father s cheek ; and the 
 old man, rising, laid a hand for a moment on Edward s 
 head, and then passed out of the room. Not a word was 
 spoken ; but Edward felt that a blessing had fallen on him, 
 in which there was richness as of dew from heaven. 
 
 The older children knew the uselessness of speaking after 
 their father had decided ; and therefore the conclave broke 
 up. There were no more outward murmurings, but plenty 
 of secret dissatisfaction. " Those children " were only fit 
 to stay at home. " The idea " of their feeling themselves 
 so old ! 
 
 A proud family this was. There was high blood on the 
 mother s side in the ancient times of English history ; and 
 the blood still lingered on this shore amongst the descend 
 ants. 
 
 " Mrs. Forresst was a Montague, one of the old Mon 
 tagues ; and that s what makes the children so proud." 
 
 This was the testimony of Mrs. Forresst s neighbors ; and 
 for once " the neighbors " were right.
 
 OB, THE CRADLE OP LIBERTY. 17 
 
 CHAPTER II. 
 
 heard the paeans of Pilgrim praise two and a 
 half centuries ago ? Who heard the wooded arches 
 ring as the lofty hymns ascended from the lungs of 
 those brave men ? Who listened while they gave 
 free hosannas to the free God of heaven ? Did the 
 birds hear? Ah, the birds were flown; for gray-bearded 
 winter was blowing his fierce blasts throughout the woods 
 " primeval," and the rude shore, covered with ice and snow, 
 gave cheerless welcome to the singers of free psalms. 
 
 Who heard them, then ? Not England. She had other 
 occupation than listening to the songs of a few runaways, 
 who had obstinately chosen a wilderness in preference to 
 her own home-nests. 
 
 Who, then, could hear them ? Not the Indians ; for 
 Providence had cleared a coast where no savages remained. 
 Who, then, did listen ? Ay, who but He who rules the 
 skies, and governs all the earth by his almighty power ? 
 He, the impregnating Spirit of all things, heard, and filled 
 those souls with high and holy thoughts. The eagle spread 
 above them on aerial flight ,- and, as the seasons came and 
 went, they grew in numbers, grace, and earth s prosperity. 
 Freedom dropped her branches, banyan-like ; and, in the 
 shadows of her interlacing bowers, chapels of praise arose; 
 and, intelligence keeping onward pace, little squares were 
 rudely hedged in, rough benches improvised, and little boys 
 and girls sat there, and primly conned their spelling-books. 
 2*
 
 18 BELLA ; 
 
 By earthly and by heavenly teachings the Pilgrims hoped 
 to keep their people from grovelling in the dust. 
 
 But how difficult it is to cleanse humanity from stain ! 
 Even to these men, forms of evil still clung, and elements 
 of perversity still mingled in their natures. The Saviour 
 they sought as guide, and would have patterned him, if 
 their natures had been pure by birth as his. 
 
 But that which they did gain from him. has given to free 
 dom an impetus that bids fair to reach around the globe, 
 although there have been many standpoints, many rebuffs, 
 and many struggles in the way. 
 
 One of these dark points was now at hand; and brother 
 was divided against brother in sanguine fight. There was 
 war. 
 
 " Blood ! " exclaimed a young Southerner, then standing 
 on the threshold of a Northern college. "I will go back 
 to my home in South Carolina, and dip my arms in blood, 
 in defence of my father s home." 
 
 "Blood! " said Mortimer Beale, as ho and Edward were 
 on their way to camp. " I dread the thought of shedding 
 blood ; but liberty must be maintained, and our country s 
 integrity preserved." 
 
 Mortimer s enthusiasm was now unbounded ; and as he 
 and Edward, embryo soldiers, were sitting together in the 
 cars, they had a long and earnest talk upon the rights and 
 wrongs of the cause they had just espoused. There is no 
 need to recall their conversation, nor any of those stirring 
 events. They are not forgotten by the world. 
 
 The two boys talked a while, and then grew thoughtful. 
 They were going from home ; going into they knew not 
 what, nor whether death or life would claim them. They 
 were but boys ; and boys visions came into their minds. 
 Gradually their conversation took a serious form, and home- 
 scenes mingled in their thoughts. Mortimer was an only
 
 OR, THE CRADLE OF LIBERTY. 19 
 
 child. Edward had left behind him a house full of family 
 kin. 
 
 Mortimer turned away abstractedly, gazed from the car- 
 window a moment, then put his hand within his coat, and 
 drew thence a thick tin case. From this he took a picture 
 of his father and his mother, and passed them to Edward. 
 Then, holding the case still lower, he drew from it a long 
 and shining curl. This, also, he passed to Edward. The 
 latter started, flushed, and, darting a look at his comrade, 
 murmured, " I didn t know She gave it to you ? " 
 
 " No : I took it. You won t betray me ? " 
 
 " Betray you ? I see nothing to betray. I would rather 
 she should give it to you than to any other person." 
 
 " Your family will not feel as you do. They will reject 
 me." 
 
 Edward thought a moment; then he responded, "I don t 
 think my father would reject you. But I did not know 
 that is that you thought of such things yet. We are 
 too young." 
 
 " But we are growing older," said Mortimer ; " and what 
 ever is to be the end, I do not know. The beginning is 
 made. Bella has promised to wait for me, and I shall do 
 my best for her." 
 
 "I give you my hand," said Edward, "the hand of a 
 brother." 
 
 Then they rode on in silent grasp, feeling a new tie be 
 tween them, and that they were now more to each other 
 than neighbors and schoolmates. The new tie was a com 
 fort to them both ; and they thought in silence, as the cars 
 went on, on, bearing them, and a regiment of others, toward 
 the Southern fields. The train was full of brave men, that 
 had bidden good-by to loving eyes, and were going where 
 death might meet them ; and all through the cars were 
 hearts of whom we might speak or write. And each heart
 
 20 BJSLLA ; 
 
 felt itself alone, as, indeed, we are alone. We enter the 
 world alone ; we leave it alone ; and, in one sense, we live 
 alone. 
 
 As nearly as two hearts can be one, Mortimer s and Ed 
 ward s were joined ; and their spirits mingled now in a new 
 and mutual bond. And then the cars stopped, and the 
 bustle began, not the bustle of camp, towards which they 
 were looking, but the bustle of the station at Boston, where 
 they were to make a few hours pause. Here there was a 
 lunch, a march through the streets, a few parting by-words 
 with friends ; and then, before they knew it, the hours were 
 gone, as all hours go, into the irreclaimable past. And 
 then they started again ; and the whispering wind spoke of 
 sadness, yet a sadness that had in its essence the beauty 
 of hope and the strength of faith. 
 
 They were going now to the shelter of tents, to the fields 
 of strife, the days of endurance, and the nights of vigil. 
 
 "Not so did our forefathers march," said Mortimer "not 
 by steam, with armaments all prepared, but by toil of weary 
 feet, and with homespun garments on. Those were brave 
 old times, when 
 
 The mother who dwelt in the sea 
 Had a daughter, a fair countree ; 
 And her name was Amerikee. 
 
 And the Johnny Bulls came to see this young dame, 
 And to ask her to buy some tea ; 
 But, when they got here, 
 They were struck with fear ; 
 For she d boiled it in the sea. 
 
 "Ha! Jolly old America, wasn t she? I wish I had 
 been there ; I d have put in my help, and roared out a 
 tune " 
 
 " Hush," nudged Edward, " not quite so loud. They ll 
 think you are drunk."
 
 OR, THE CRADLE OF LIBERTY. 21 
 
 " Twould be an unlucky thought," the boy replied, " and 
 one that I hope will never be thought of me with truth." 
 
 The cars were bowling at headlong speed; and the boys, 
 hushed into quiet, were riding on, as thousands of others 
 rode, towards the broad fields of glory or of death. 
 
 Northern people watched, but watched not long ; for up 
 over the news-wifes came tidings that set all hearts tremu 
 lously beating, and made the faces of even grave men 
 lengthen. The news flashed ; and everywhere men knew 
 that there had been a battle and a defeat. The name 
 Bull Kun is yet remembered. The tidings came to Bella 
 in a letter ; and the letter had on the envelope no name but 
 her own, every letter of which was written in a bold, 
 schoolboy s hand. She knew the writing as she knew her 
 own ; but yet her young nerves fluttered a little at sight 
 of the letter, remembering, as she did, what Mortimer 
 said at the garden gate. 
 
 " I wonder if he will mention it here," was the thought 
 of the child as she looked at the precious missive ; and 
 that thought withheld her from opening it while the eyes 
 of her sisters were watching. 
 
 " Head it, and tell us what is in it," said Nellie in her 
 authoritative way. 
 
 Bella hesitated, took it up, and then dropped it again, 
 while a flush overspread her face. 
 
 " You act silly enough," interposed Adelaide. " It is 
 only from Mortimer Beale. Why don t you read it ? " 
 
 Still the child hesitated. True it was from Mortimer 
 Beale ; but he was more than " only " to her ; and an unde 
 fined dread came over her, a consciousness, that, if her older 
 brothers and sisters should know what had passed between 
 her and " Chauncey Beale s boy," she would become a 
 mark for their sarcastic shots, nay, perhaps more : they 
 might forbid her speaking to Mortimer, except as a neigh 
 bor and friend.
 
 22 BELLA ; 
 
 " Don t act like a baby," said Miss Nellie. " Open the 
 letter, or I will ; " and at the moment she reached out her 
 jewelled fingers to seize the little document. But Bella 
 was too quick for her, and thrust it in her pocket. There 
 might have been a sisterly collision, but for the father, 
 who opportunely interfered, and gave Nellie his particular 
 instructions to let Bella alone, and let her enjoy her letter 
 in her own way. 
 
 It was well for the peace of Bella that the father had 
 spoken. Afterward, when she had slyly shut herself into 
 her mother s room, and opened her letter all by herself, 
 she blushed all over rosy red at the very first line, 
 
 " My dear little wife that is to be." 
 
 " Dear me ! " she murmured. " What a funny fellow 
 Mortie is ! " Then she read again, and began it again ; 
 for she liked that funny first line. 
 
 " MY DEAR LITTLE WlFE THAT IS TO BE, This is the 
 
 first opportunity I have found in which I could write to you. 
 Edward is writing to your father. I have written to my 
 father, and now I must tell you the news. We have had 
 a battle. Of course, you will hear about it in the papers; 
 but I must tell you myself that a battle is a very different 
 thing from what I had supposed; and I think it should be 
 only the direst necessity that should drive men into such 
 positions. I know such a necessity exists now, else. I 
 would not stay to shoot and be shot at. It seems a neces 
 sary but a senseless way of deciding a moral question of 
 right and wrong; and it is a very queer thing for intelli 
 gent Christian men to stand up in rows, and cooliy kill each 
 other; but, after all, there is glory in it when it is for a 
 glorious cause. 
 
 " I have my tress ; and I think of you often in the midst 
 of the hurly-burly around me, but most often at nighty
 
 OR, THE CEADLE OF LIBERTY. 23 
 
 when the stars are glimmering above me, and the night 
 winds stir the memories of my soul. We have grown 
 up together, Bella ; and by and by we will grow old to 
 gether. Won t that be nice ? We ll be a good long while 
 growing old; for we sha n t want to hurry about it." 
 
 Bella smiled a little at the thought of her and Mortimer 
 growing old ; why, they had only begun to be young. 
 "But then Mortie wasn t like other boys : he always hud 
 older thoughts." 
 
 At that moment, Adelaide looked in at the door. She 
 had finished sweeping the kitchen, and her busy curiosity 
 was itching about Bella. She wanted to know the con 
 tents of that letter; and, all the time that she was tidying 
 the kitchen, she was longing for a peep into her mother s 
 room. But, as she looked in, the letter disappeared in 
 Bella s pocket. 
 
 " Do just let me read it," said Adelaide, stealing softly 
 across the floor. 
 
 "No, Adelaide, I can t." 
 i 
 
 Then Adelaide s mood changed. 
 
 " 0-o-oh ! What a wonderful girl you are ! You 
 haven t got out of your baby-tucker, and are setting up to 
 receive private letters ! From Mort Beale too ! What 
 can he say so cunning ? Or does he propose marriage ? 
 Ha, ha, ha ! When shall we have a wedding?" 
 
 Adelaide said this by way of torture. She had no idea 
 that he or Bella had thought of an event so preposterous ; 
 but Bella was touched. Without speaking, she arose, and 
 went into the dining-room.
 
 24 BELLA ; 
 
 CHAPTEE III. 
 
 9 
 
 LOVE ! what is thy name, and what thy mission 
 
 on earth ? Whether thou comest to youth in its 
 dew, or to the strength of manhood and womanhood, 
 thou bearest in thy cup a blessing of blessedness, 
 which thou givest to all such as receive thee in 
 purity, unsullied by passions foul, or selfishness impure. 
 There is nought so weak and yielding as love ; there is 
 nought so immovable and strong. The old are made 
 young by its divine essence ; the young are matured to age. 
 Thus it was that Bella was a child no longer. Petted 
 she had always been, but yet not disobedient. Her parents 
 were to her as guardian angels. Her older brothers and sis 
 ters had thus far been objects of her childish affection, and 
 by them she had been treated with tenderness. But now 
 a new fealty had sprung up between her and all that she 
 had formerly loved. A new monarch swayed his sceptre 
 over her soul, and his rule was as honey to her taste. She 
 wrote her answer in secret, scarce daring to ask herself 
 what she was doing, or to commune with herself at all. 
 She only realized that it was sweet to love Mortimer, and 
 that, if she told her secret, she would be a target for ridicule, 
 and perhaps forbidden to hold a correspondence with him. 
 
 The keeping of " Mortie s secret," as she called it, from 
 her brothers and sisters, did not, in the least, disturb her 
 mind; but to hide it from her dear kind father and mother 
 was indeed a sore trial, Therefore Mortie, in his Virginia
 
 OR, THE CRADLE OP LIBERTY. 25 
 
 camp, received a letter in which was a request for permis 
 sion to tell their little secret to the dear parents, " because 
 they are so good, you know ; " and, as the young soldier read 
 that sentence, he smiled. " Yes, good : that s so. But 
 what will they say to me ? That s the question. How 
 ever, I m in for it ; and so here goes." 
 
 He took a pen then, and dashed off a few lines, not very 
 grammatically or elegantly ; but Bella understood by them 
 that she might do as she pleased about telling, only that she 
 must not venture to endanger their happiness. " You see," 
 he said in his frank, open way, " I am but a boy now. I 
 shall be a man by and by ; and then I shall seem a great 
 deal smarter. I mean to be something some time ; but per 
 haps your father and mother will not believe it." 
 
 Bella watched her opportunity, and gave this letter to 
 her father when none were by. A blush overspread her 
 face ; and, shaking back her curls, she stood with a wistful 
 look while he read it. His countenance changed from its 
 gravity to a smile, and from that to a look of incredulity. 
 "When he had finished, he chucked her chin ; and, turning 
 her face up to his, he said, " This isn t serious. You do not 
 mean it ? " 
 
 " Yes, father." 
 
 " Why, you are only two little chickens. What do you 
 know about life ? " 
 
 " Mortie says we ll be older by and by." 
 
 The old man looked thoughtful. "True, true. You 
 will be older, and I shall be passing away. Well, yes. Tell 
 Mortie, that if he lives, and is a virtuous, honorable man, I 
 shall have no objection." 
 
 Thus the girl felt that she had gained a point ; but she 
 knew that plenty of points lay behind. She had not lived 
 all these years without hearing it often said that " Chauncey 
 Beale was a nice sort of a man, but terribly shiftless about 
 
 8
 
 26 BEL^A ; 
 
 getting a living ; " and she knew, that as soon as it should be 
 known that she was " engaged," as Mortimer said, that all 
 her big and " big-feeling " brothers and sisters would rise 
 up, and the poverty of the father would be charged at once 
 to the son. Therefore her wise little heart said, "Keep 
 still ; " and she put her two plump little arms around her 
 father s neck and said, " You won t tell, will you? " 
 
 He smiled as he answered, "No, chicken. You may 
 depend upon that." 
 
 Then time passed along. Weeks became months : au 
 tumn took the place of the summer, and, in its turn, gave 
 way to winter, furious and cold. Bella received her loving 
 epistles, feeling that she had a right, now that the father 
 had given his sanction. Sometimes she showed him the 
 loving words ; and he patted her head with a meaning smile, 
 remembering, as old men will, his own early days of love. 
 
 Notwithstanding that Mortimer was away, and in a dan 
 gerous place, Bella was very happy. She felt herself rather 
 romantic as a " soldier s sweetheart," and clandestinely en 
 gaged ; and she found great delight in running into Mr. 
 Beale s cottage, and making herself useful there as a daugh 
 ter, yet knowing, or fancying she knew, that they knew 
 nothing about it, and had no idea that she was really their 
 daughter. All this she communicated to Mortimer, to 
 gether with the news of the town, and her little love~mes- 
 sages. 
 
 It was thus when the winter came, and the snow beat 
 down, covering the roads, the roofs, and the bushes with its 
 fantastic drapery and fleeced blankets. Winter never 
 caught the Forressts unprepared. Come when he would, 
 after November set in, around their house, and all over their 
 premises, he found himself expected ; and he laid his fleeces 
 on, and blew his winds, without harming them. Nor was 
 the elder Mr. Forresst oiteu seen out on stormy days. He
 
 OR, THE CRADLE OP LIBERTY. 27 
 
 let his business wait for the storm-king to pass by, pajing 
 obeisance to him as to a power from the unseen. 
 
 It was not for himself that he went out this day, when 
 the winds were sifting the snows, and sending them about 
 like Arab sands, filling and flying and cutting and beating 
 into the faces of those who ventured into the drifts. He 
 went out on an errand of mercy. His hands were well in 
 cased in double-woolled mittens that his " auld wife " knitted 
 in the days gone by. His overcoat hung to his boots, and its 
 double capes kept his shoulders safe from the cold ; while 
 his warm woollen muffler protected close his neck and ears. 
 Altogether he was a very nice-looking old gentleman, and 
 a man whom every one liked, modest and unassuming. 
 
 The pride of the family comes through the wife," people 
 said. " The old English Montagues were a proud set." 
 
 When Mr. Forresst left his house that morning, he went 
 in his usual precise manner. Harry harnessed his horse, 
 and brought it to the door. Mrs. Forresst tied his cravat, 
 and placed properly the high, starched linen collar about 
 his neck ; Miss Nellie helped draw on his overcoat 5 and 
 Bella stood waiting with his mittens. There was a little 
 extra tucking of the fur robes at the sleigh, because of the 
 storm ; a good many charges to be careful about letting the 
 wind in around him, to keep the muffler close over his 
 mouth, and to be sure to call somewhere and get warm if 
 he felt chilled. And then the old gentleman drove away. 
 
 Nobody thought to tell him to be careful in driving. No 
 body thought of his needing such a direction ; for " father 
 was the most careful driver in the world : " so Mrs. Forresst 
 always said ; and it was true. But this day the snow-sifts 
 were hard and ugly, the storm-winds pertinaciously furious; 
 and, in spite of all hid exertions for warmth, his old fingers 
 grew clumsy and stiff. The old horse, too, found the ele 
 ments too hard for him ; and in the early twilight, that
 
 28 BELLA ; 
 
 seemed to hasten on in the middle of the afternoon, when 
 sleet and hail began to add their difficulties, the old horse 
 and his old driver plodded slowly. 
 
 There was no one by when it happened ; and the driver 
 could not tell his own tale for hours, not till he had been 
 picked up by a passing neighbor, who found him lying at 
 length upon a drift of snow, incrusted over with sleet, his 
 sleigh overturned, and the horse standing in the crust, with 
 cuts on his legs where he had stamped about in efforts to 
 get away. 
 
 Mr. Forresst was carried home ; but it was many hours 
 ere he spoke. Then it was as one passing away; and the 
 household sorrowed with deep grief. Proud and stern as 
 some of those sons and daughters were, they bowed before 
 this stroke of God. 
 
 But the wife felt it most of all. She had lived by his 
 side through many long years ; and they had prospered to 
 gether. Now, when he talked of going, and held her by 
 the hand, she said, " Don t, father, don t. I can t bear it." 
 
 "But we must bear that which the Lord puts upon us," 
 he said reverently. " You and I have had many years to 
 gether. We did not expect our earthly union to be eternal. 
 The eternity is to come ; and you must gird yourself now 
 to hear my few last words. It is of Bella I wish to speak. 
 Our older children are doing well : their characters are 
 formed, their prospects are good. But Bella is young, and 
 has a little secret." 
 
 Then he went on and explained this secret, adding, 
 finally, "And now I want you to be- to her what I have 
 been. Let her come to you with all her wishes and troubles. 
 Be her shelter and strength." 
 
 " And are you quite satisfied with such a match for her ? " 
 
 " Quite, quite. I know Mortimer s father never had a 
 tact at getting money ; but he is a good man. His boy has
 
 OR, THE CRADLE OF LIBERTY. 29 
 
 been well brought up, and Bella loves him. I intrust them 
 to you ; and it is my wish, if Mortimer comes out of this 
 war free from vice, that they marry. Sarah Jane is about 
 to marry. The day is fixed, as you know : do not let it be 
 delayed. Mourning should not be a mere form ; and you 
 will mourn for me none the less because there is a wedding 
 in the house " 
 
 Father, don t ! " 
 
 The old lady s head dropped to the sick man s breast ; 
 she stretched her arms across his shoulders ; her face drew 
 near his till her pale, tear-stained cheeks touched his white 
 beard. And, when the children came in, they found her 
 
 there. 
 
 *
 
 30 BELLA ; 
 
 CHAPTER IV. 
 
 6) 
 
 " ORTIMER ! Mortimer ! " 
 
 There was a wail in the sound of the words ; and 
 the young volunteer turned his head toward the 
 speaker. They were reading letters from the camp- 
 mail, which had just arrived; and Edward s face 
 was full of an inexpressible anguish. 
 
 " What is it, Edward ? " asked the one addressed. 
 
 " My father oh, my father ! " 
 
 Then he threw the letter into Mortimer s lap, and laid 
 his head down on a stool beside him. 
 
 " Read it aloud, Mortie." 
 
 Then Mortimer, in his full bass voice, read aloud of the 
 misfortune in the snow, the events that followed, the 
 death and burial of the good old man. 
 
 " I shall never, never see him more," moaned the be 
 reaved son. " He feared that I would die ; but he has gone 
 first." 
 
 The bronzed soldiers gathered around. Many of them 
 knew Mr. Forresst, and all sympathized with the bereaved 
 boy. There is nothing better than sympathy in the hour 
 of sorrow ; but even that is impotent when first grief falls 
 in all its fierce attacks. And so Edward moaned and 
 sighed, like a stricken boy as he was. 
 
 " Write to mother," said the letter at the close. " This 
 stroke falls heaviest on her."
 
 OR, THE CRADLE OF LIBERT?. 31 
 
 Then the boy sat up, and the spirit of the man came into 
 him. 
 
 " Yes, I will write. Father is gone. We must be 
 mother s right hands now." 
 
 " That s right, my brother," was the response of Morti 
 mer. " I would I could lend my aid." 
 
 Little time had Edward for manifestations of sorrow; but 
 he wrote a letter to his mother, in which he poured out the 
 fulness of his heart. And the letter carried to the mother 
 just the balm she needed. 
 
 " Dear Edward," she said, " he tells me I must remember 
 that I have many loving hearts who will stretch out tender 
 hands of sympathy; and it is true : my children are now 
 my staff." 
 
 There was a great change in the Forresst mansion. It 
 seemed that the light of it had gone out. They had been 
 so accustomed to go to father for advice ; and he had been 
 always so wise, yet modest, that they all leaned upon him 
 as a rock. Now, however, they must take up the mantle 
 he had dropped, and strive to be worthy a seat in his 
 ascending chariot. 
 
 The strong love of the elders was not more grateful to the 
 mother than the weakness of the youngest. Bella sank 
 into her mother s arms like a shocked child. And she was 
 shocked. That her father should pass away out of her sight 
 was an event that had never entered her young thoughts ; 
 and it seemed that God, whose ways she always heard were 
 right, had done a very strange thing, for which she could 
 not account ; and, in her tearful bewilderment, she leaned 
 her head upon her mother s breast, and coiled up into her 
 lap, as though that was the only solace now on earth. 
 
 Mrs. Forresst was deeply moved by this clinging helpless 
 ness. She took the child into her own room and her own 
 bed. Bella felt that this was now her home; and she
 
 32 BELLA ; 
 
 brought her clothes thither, piece by piece, till she had 
 made a complete removal. And when the mother told her 
 privately of the father s dying charge, and how she should 
 keep it to the letter, a new life opened before the girl ; and 
 she felt sure that now she was safe from trouble or opposi 
 tion on Mortimer s account. 
 
 " They will none of them dare to speak if mother takes 
 my side." 
 
 And now came other changes. Sarah Jane had a wed 
 ding in the house. She was married to a man from Salem, 
 a " heavy man," her brother Frederic said he was. But 
 Bella could not think so. He was a " little, dried-up old 
 fellow," according to her thoughts ; and it was a mystery 
 that Sarah Jane could love him. 
 
 " I would rather have my Mortimer ; wouldn t you, moth 
 er ? " she asked ingenuously, as they sat together in the 
 mother s room. 
 
 The mother smiled. " No doubt you would, my child ; 
 but how would you like it if Sarah Jane wanted your 
 Mortimer too ? " 
 
 "0 mother!" 
 
 " You see, my darling, it is all right that tastes should 
 differ in love as well as in other matters. Sarah Jane has 
 made a good choice : so every one says." 
 
 " Because he is rich, mother. My Mortie isn t rich ; but 
 he is so nice all the way through." 
 
 Mrs. Forresst smiled, and then they went on with the sew 
 ing about which they were busy ; and afterward Sarah Jane 
 went to her Salem home, to a house filled with plenty, as 
 none but " heavy " men can fill them. 
 
 The oldest daughter, Eunice, had been married some 
 years before, and was already a mother in a sumptuous 
 house in Boston. There remained at home now Miss 
 Nellie, Adelaide, and Bella, with Harry as main man of the
 
 OE, THE CRADLE OF LIBERTY. 33 
 
 house. The other brothers were established in business ; 
 and no one of them was sufficiently patriotic to leave the 
 work of fortune-making for service in the field. It was 
 better to scoop in the bills by trading for the army than 
 to risk life and fortune in it. This spirit was characteristic 
 of the family ; but yet characteristics do have exceptions. 
 
 The home-life glided on again ; and time rolled on, bring 
 ing no new jars to the bereaved family, till a blow fell upon 
 Bella, like a second stroke. Adelaide, sly, inquisitive Ade 
 laide, went to the post-office, and found there a letter for 
 Bella. So strict were the parental commands in reference 
 to Mortimer s letters, that as yet not one of them had been 
 opened. But this was from Edward. Adelaide knew the 
 handwriting; and, walking home at the afternoon s wane 
 with the letter in her hand, she felt a curiosity to read it. 
 
 " I ve a right," she said to herself. " It is from Edward ; 
 and, of course, it is meant for us all." 
 
 Then with a Maltese purr, and soft silky hands, she tore 
 off the end of the envelope, and found ah, what did 
 she find ? Two separate letters. One was for family use, 
 and the other was for Bella s private reading. To this the 
 soft sister paid special attention ; and the reading solved the 
 whole question that had often come to her as a possibility. 
 She carried the letters home in her secret pocket, and 
 hastened with them to Nellie s chamber. There was a 
 development then ; and the two sisters were fully agreed 
 in one expression, 
 
 " This must be stopped." 
 
 They differed only as to means, each following her own 
 natural suggestions, by which Adelaide advised a secret 
 course ; but Nellie put her foot down haughtily. The 
 dainty slipper made quite a noise on the floor ; and her clear, 
 commanding voice uttered imperiously, "No! we cannot 
 wait for secret measures. The whole thing must be stopped
 
 34 BELLA ; 
 
 at once. What can Edward be thinking of! Foolish 
 boy!" 
 
 Upon that Miss Nellie arose, and, letter in hand, sought 
 her mother. 
 
 But when she found that her mother was already cogni 
 zant, nay, more, that she sanctioned it, her astonishment 
 was without bounds. 
 
 " Father must have been bereft of his senses." 
 
 "I think not," the mother replied solemnly, and with a 
 reverential voice. " He knew it weeks before he left us ; 
 and I shall certainly maintain and cherish the trust he left 
 with me." 
 
 "Bella has been always hanging about you, and she 
 made babies of you both," said Nellie. 
 
 In her excitement she forgot that one of the accused was 
 where he could not reply. But Mrs. Forresst did not forget ; 
 and tears came in her eyes as Nellie turned away. The 
 latter, stepping lightly, almost on her toes, as she went, 
 muttered to herself, " This must be attended to at once. 
 The idea ! " 
 
 In less than an hour the tell-tale letter was enclosed in 
 another envelope, an explanatory note was with it ; and 
 Adelaide was again on her way to the post-office. The 
 letter was sent to Mr. Frederic Forresst of Boston. " He 
 is the best one to manage the business," Miss Nellie re 
 marked as she handed the letter to Adelaide. " He is 
 clear-headed, and will know just what to do." 
 
 And Bella sat in blissful ignorance that a letter had 
 come at all. She was in her cosey seat in her mother s 
 room. The mother came in presently, and stroked her hand 
 over the soft, glossy curls, but forebore to speak. Why 
 should she trouble the child, or disturb her dreams of bliss ? 
 She would be her secret friend, and, however they might 
 attempt to annoy her, they should not succeed } for was not
 
 OB, THE CKADLE OF LIBERTY. 35 
 
 she the dying charge of one whose word should be forever 
 esteemed? 
 
 Nellie and Adelaide slept that night in peace. They 
 were confident that Mr. Frederic would immediately attend 
 to the case. He would never permit the son of Chauncey 
 Beale to enter their family ; for, though Mr. Beale was a 
 worthy man, he never had the " least bit of a knack at 
 money." It was sure to slip out of his hands if it 
 slipped in ; and most likely Mortimer would be just like 
 him. 
 
 " I cannot keep it out of my mind," said Miss Nellie. " I 
 would tell Harry ; only he s just what he is, and, very 
 likely, will go right against us. But Frederic we can 
 trust." 
 
 As it regarded Frederic, the oldest brother, Miss Nellie 
 was correct. In three days he presented his distinguished- 
 looking person in the house of his mother. His plan was 
 formed within an* hour from his reception of the letter ; and 
 he had come laden with dress-patterns, and every toilet- 
 preparation for the outfit of a young girl. 
 
 To Nellie and Adelaide he said, " Silence is the best 
 strategy in such cases. You were wise in sending to me. 
 I planned it at once." 
 
 To his mother he said, "Dear madam, I have been think 
 ing of Bella. Now that father is gone, I trust that you 
 will allow me to become her second father ; and I propose 
 that we take her out of this common arena, and fit her for 
 a higher sphere. She is growing^to be very beautiful; 
 and you, I am sure, would like to see her with a finished 
 education. I propose sending her to a convent for a 
 time." 
 
 A perceptible shudder passed through Mrs. Forresst s 
 frame j and she replied quickly,
 
 36 BELLA ; 
 
 "Surely you will not take from me my most precious 
 comfort." 
 
 " It is for her good, mother ; and surely you are not so 
 selfish as to keep her in your presence to her injury. I 
 shall return her to you beautified." 
 
 In the "surely" of Mr. Frederic, Mrs. Forresst recog 
 nized the voice of her own blood in masculine strength 
 and manhood s prime. She yielded before it ; and, wiping 
 the drops from her eyelids, she said, " I am become but a 
 dry and useless branch. Do with me as you will." 
 
 "Thanks, madam! I knew you would exercise your 
 usual good sense; and therefore, without consulting you, I 
 have written to The Holy Virgin, a most excellent con 
 vent in Canada ; and I have brought materials for her out 
 fit. Nellie and Adelaide will lend their assistance, I pre 
 sume." 
 
 The mother s heart was full of misgivings; but, as she 
 had said, she was an old woman now, aiid her children were 
 her rulers. 
 
 " I do not want to go," said the jhiJd. " I want to stay 
 with you, mother." 
 
 " But I shall not forget you, my daughter. You will not 
 be out of my mind for a moment ; and I am persuaded that 
 you will not cease to think of me. We will live together 
 in spirit, if we can in no other way." 
 
 " So we will, darling mother ; and every night I will put 
 a kiss on my pillow, and think it is you." 
 
 Then Mrs. Forresst put an arm around the fair young 
 neck, and said, "Every night I will send up a prayer to 
 my God, and tell him it is for you." 
 
 Bella looked up with a hopeful smile. " God will hear 
 your prayers, mother." 
 
 And thus, in the midst of the hurrying preparations, 
 they found time to comfort each other ; and for one other
 
 OR, THE CRADLE OP LIBERTY. 37 
 
 duty, also, Bella found time. She wrote to Mortimer, and 
 in her simple way told him what had happened, and gave 
 him her coming address. 
 
 " You must write often, oh, so often ! " she said in clos 
 ing, " or I shall be very, very homesick, and cry to think I 
 am away so far."
 
 38 BELLA ; 
 
 CHAPTER V. 
 
 That is a new move in our family ! " 
 The voice was Edward Forresst s. Again he was 
 reading a letter ; but this time it was not his own. 
 It was the few lines that Bella had sent to Morti- 
 "" mer. 
 
 " A convent I As though there were not plenty of Protes 
 tant schools in our country ! And in Canada too ! Can 
 not patronize our own country in any thing ! Mr. Fred is 
 outgrowing himself." 
 
 "He is putting Bella beyond my reach, that is all," 
 responded Mortimer, a troubled flash lighting his eyes, 
 at which Edward caught with a quick reply, 
 
 "Don t worry about that. Going to a convent won t 
 change her; and you have got me and mother on your side. 
 And father was there." 
 
 " But he is gone ; and what can you or your mother do 
 against Mr. Frederic, and Miss Nellie, and all the rest ? " 
 
 " I think I am a Montague also," Edward replied; "and 
 they will find me a hard customer when this war is over. 
 Till then, we are soldiers, you know." 
 
 Boys are not apt to look on the dark side very long ; and 
 these two were but boys. They soon turned their tune of 
 sadness, and planned the glories of a besieging-campaign, 
 how they would go up to "The Holy Virgin," and way 
 lay their trophy by some heroic means, and make them 
 selves famous as stormers of castles. Thev were almost
 
 OR, THE CRADLB OF LIBERTY. 39 
 
 glad she was there ; for otherwise they might never have 
 had a chance to display their prowess. 
 
 Meantime Bella bade the old homestead farewell, and 
 went her lonely journey, encouraged, before she started, by 
 the very mother who would most keenly feel her absence. 
 She was expected at " The Holy Virgin." The great doors 
 opened for her admission, and closed their portals when 
 she had passed through. ; - v , 
 
 "It is not so bad as I expected," Bella thought as soon 
 as she had time to look around, and had been before the 
 lady superior, and seen the sisters. She had forebodings 
 of grimness and austerity and penances and bead-count 
 ing; but, if these things were there, she did not see 
 them. It was quite natural that she should not. The re 
 ality and depth of things are not apparent till time and 
 stress reveal them. 
 
 She saw pleasant ladies with courteous manners and 
 pure grace. They spoke to her with tenderness, and 
 showed her to her room, which was a curtained recess with 
 a little bed behind it, and a long open space, where five or 
 six girls stood grouped, looking with curiosity at the new 
 scholar. Every thing was refined, delicate, and pure ; and 
 there was a sweet grace in the manners of the convent 
 ladies. When Bella became more accustomed to it, she 
 thought it a charming life for a little time; but for a life 
 time " Oh ! " she shuddered. 
 
 There was a charm in hearing the sisters talk of holy 
 joys, the communion of saints, the immaculate purity of 
 the Blessed Mother, and the sweetness of being consecrated 
 to the holy church, whose portals opened to the portals 
 above. 
 
 What Bella missed in this community was nature. That 
 which God has implanted in humanity, and which is, there 
 fore, divine was here left out. The natural loves of con-
 
 40 BELLA ; 
 
 sanguinity, the ties of kindred blood, and the ties by which 
 kindred are created, were crushed in this ascetic life; and 
 to Bella it seemed cruel to shut out nature. God made 
 nature ; and they who restrict its loves restrict and shut 
 out God. For Bella s warm soul such a life would be 
 misery ; and she wondered whether those sweet sisters 
 would not be more happy if they had natural homes and 
 the loves that God himself has implanted on the earth. 
 
 In her schoolmates she found natural feelings like her 
 own, with their different characteristics, like all school 
 girls ; and like all young, warm-hearted girls, she made 
 the best of what had come to her. When she had a letter 
 from Mortimer, it would be " all right," she thought, and 
 waited patiently for the letter to come. 
 
 The days passed away, and she became used to the rou 
 tine of daily duties ; knew which of the pupils she liked 
 best, and which of the teachers; and began to feel herself 
 a part of the establishment. She was introduced into the 
 orchestra, among the chanting-girls, whose dresses of pure 
 white seemed symbolic of the higher land whose glories 
 they sang; and the day of her introduction was celebrated 
 by a little feast of cake and other good things. A new 
 enchantment was about her, a new aurora encompassed 
 her. But for Mortimer, she might almost have been lured 
 to say she would remain forever in this seraphic life. But 
 she would not have remained happy in it forever. Her 
 nature was too warm and impulsive, and too full of human 
 love, to continue happy in a state of this spiritual looking- 
 forward. In her young soul there were fountains of the 
 domestic loves ; and she waited only for the right master 
 to kindle them into living flames. 
 
 But into this convent-life there came to her no letter 
 from Mortimer, nor yet from Edward. This worried her ; 
 and she could scarce keep it from her mind. In the pleas-
 
 OR, THE CRADLE OF LIBERTY. 41 
 
 ant embroidery-room she sat one afternoon, while around 
 were several girls, all busy with their needles, under the 
 care of Sister Nativitie. Flosses and worsteds, silks and 
 linen threads, were lying around ; and the girls, sitting 
 among them, looked like fairies in a bower, with a Madon 
 na fairy at their head. 
 
 Serene in brow, waxen as a white lily in face, Nativitie 
 seemed as one too frail and delicate for power; yet her 
 power of will was stronger than death itself; for she would 
 have met that monster with fearless eyes. 
 
 What an anomaly is human nature ! This holy woman 
 would have walked over a field of corpses at dead of night 
 to carry to Mortimer a cup of water for his thirst ; but at 
 this moment she knew where lay a letter from him for her 
 young pupil, and she would not even give it to her. 
 
 It had been stipulated by Frederic Forresst, that letters 
 from the South should be withheld from his young sister, 
 inasmuch as -a pertinacious young man was troubling her 
 with an undesirable correspondence ; and he trusted to the 
 holy sisters to preserve her from harm. He could not have 
 found a more conscientious trustee than Nativitie. 
 
 Bella dropped a tear in that embroidery-room. The 
 tear fell upon the floss of a leaf she had just laid. She 
 looked up hastily to see whether Nativitie was observing, 
 and was relieved at seeing that sister busily engaged on a 
 tangled skein of silk. She had not seen the tear; but 
 somebody else had. A pair of soft blue eyes were looking 
 directly at Bella s face; and a chair was hitched softly 
 toward her by little Lola Street, a Baltimorean, and also a 
 pupil. Lola was a delicate creature, of golden auburn hair ; 
 and her work was a gossamer collar of lace, into whose 
 meshes she was deftly interlacing the most fairy work. 
 She moved toward Bella, and stooped, apparently to com 
 pare work; but, as she stooped, she murmured, "That
 
 42 BELLA ; 
 
 pearly drop it cannot be a penitent tear. Me parlez; 
 a I ami." 
 
 " It is nothing," was the murmured response. 
 
 " Quoi ! " responded Lola. " I see a pearly drop so 
 fine, so pure. Grief brings it out. Sympathy would be its 
 cure. Parlez-vous ? " 
 
 " No, no, I cannot ! " 
 
 " Ma chere amie / One little word ! " 
 
 " I dare not." 
 
 The cooing voices roused Nativitie. She turned her 
 eyes from the silk, and looked inquisitively at the mur 
 muring girls. How harmless they looked ! And how de 
 murely they were comparing flosses, while their innocent* 
 eyes glanced furtively, as if modesty itself were sitting 
 there ! She turned back to her tangled skein. " It is all 
 right," she thought. The doves cooed on. Lola softly 
 urged, 
 
 " Ma belle Bella. Je n ai qu un ami." , 
 
 " Je parle V Anglais" answered the more practical 
 Bella. 
 
 " IS Anglais, then," said Lola, smiling. "I know all 
 about you." 
 
 " You know nothing at all." 
 
 " I know all. Your heart is aching for him. You are 
 desolate here. It is un sujet de tristesse." 
 
 " Lola ! how did you know ? " 
 
 "By love s own light. Have I no heart? Ah, me, 
 j aime ! " 
 
 " You ! " exclaimed Bella. " Do you love ? " 
 
 " Hush ! " responded Lola, and glanced toward Nativi- 
 tie. " How lovely is this floss ! See my vine ! So 
 true ! " 
 
 She held her work before Bella. Nativitie looked up 
 again, and smiled as she saw them engrossed with their
 
 OB, THE CRADLE OF LIBERTY. 43 
 
 " How happy they are ! " she said to herself. " Holy 
 Mother, keep them ever from the wicked one." Then she 
 returned to her silk. Lola touched Bella s arm, and again 
 murmured, 
 
 " Heart reads heart. In the garden, after lunch. Will 
 you walk ? " 
 
 " Yes." 
 
 " Out, then," murmured Lola. " It is enough." 
 
 When next Nativitie looked, they were busily at work, 
 and so continued till the hour for lunch. Nativitie praised 
 them for their industry ; and they went out together, eager 
 for their lettt~a-f,ete. In the passage they met Sister Ma- 
 tildie. 
 
 They liked Matildie. She was less au__,.e, and seemed 
 to have an idea thaf voung eirls must have natural feei- 
 ings. They stopped her in the passage : both their faces 
 came close to hers, and they said pleadingly, " It is lovely 
 in the garden. Will you go with us ? " 
 
 " Now ? " queried the sister. 
 
 Oui." 
 
 Matildie looked caressingly upon the two young crea 
 tures, who stood before her in all the smiles of youth ; and 
 a sense of their loneliness stole into her consciousness. 
 She had never been able to "marbleize" herself, as Nativi- 
 tie had. Around Matildie s soul there always hovered the 
 breathings of humanity. She was the music-teacher; and 
 the girls never wearied of listening to her ravishing 
 strains. Pure they were, foretasting the heavenly beati 
 tudes to which she was pledged; but yet they were full of 
 a luscious richness, as though she did not disdain the earth 
 from which she was created, nor wholly discard its God- 
 given, natural loves. 
 
 The garden was quiet and beautiful, like a holy retreat. 
 The high wall of its border made it like an island of seclu-
 
 44 BELLA ; 
 
 sion ; and the paths winding among the verdure were like 
 paths among the paradisaical spots of easth. 
 
 " If we could only open the gates when we choose," 
 Bella thought, " it would seem perfectly beautiful. But 
 those locks ! " She sighed as she took Lola s arm within 
 hers, yet not long. She was too young and too healthy 
 to feel for long the shady side of life. Her nature re 
 bounded into gladness ; and the hope of something beauti 
 ful was always before her. 
 
 Matildie walked quietly forward, her fine instincts tell 
 ing her that the doves wanted to coo alone ; and she did not 
 fear to let them coo. Nativitie was in her chamber at that 
 moment, at prayer for the souls of her pupils ; and Matildie 
 walked beneath the budding trees, giving to her young 
 charge such happiness as she could. 
 
 Before the two girls returned to the house, they knew 
 each other s histories. Lola told Bella of Baltimore, the 
 city of her birth, of the grand old home where she was 
 born, and how her father and mother died, and she was put 
 under a guardian, who took her to Washington one winter; 
 and there she saw a pair of glorious eyes that flamed out 
 upon her, and seemed to swallow her in their depths, and 
 she was so happy ! But her guardian was not pleased 
 with it, and said the young man meant to swallow her 
 fortune as well as herself. "How could he think such 
 baseness of my noble Wilhelm Franz ? " asked Lola a? <*he 
 closed her tale. 
 
 " That is not an English name ? " said Bella. 
 
 " No, my Wilhelm is a Swede. My guardian said he 
 was an adventurer; but it is not so. He came to this 
 country to study ; and he loves to study ; and he has such 
 eyes ! You ought to see them, ma belle Bella. The first 
 time we met we loved ; the second, we were engaged." 
 
 "So soon!" said Bella. "Before you knew any thing 
 about him ? "
 
 OK, THE CRADLE OF LIBERTY. 45 
 
 "Didn t I know? Why, I tell you I read his eyes the 
 first time we met." 
 
 " Do you expect to see him again ? " 
 
 " Oui, ma belle Bella : so surely as he lives, he will find 
 me in this place." 
 
 And she was not wrong in her prediction. If we should 
 go back a little, and take a peep into a large hack-parlor of 
 Washington, we should see a young man with large, lus 
 trous eyes, busily engaged in packing, not furniture, but 
 specimens of the earth s treasures that he had collected. 
 There were corals from Florida, fish from the Mississippi, 
 rocks, sea-weeds, butterflies, beetles, skulls of defunct ani 
 mals, shells, skeletons, mosses, and a multitude of other 
 natural curiosities, that all spoke to him a language of life. 
 He was packing them now for storage while he took 
 another excursion. 
 
 This time it was Canada he was to explore. He knew 
 of an oriole that had flown thither ; and why couldn t he go 
 there also ? He went ; and, if we had been loitering about 
 " The Holy Virgin " a few days after that, we should have 
 seen another loiterer there also ; and we should have seen 
 how a pair of eyes were spying, and yet did not seem to 
 spy, and a pair of ears were listening, yet did not seem to 
 hear ; for the owner of the eyes and ears seemed to be busy 
 gathering mosses, rocks, grasses, and any thing that he 
 could find of nature. If we could have read his thoughts, 
 we should have seen a little sentence written there : " I 
 shall get a glimpse of her in some way." 
 
 In fact, that which Mortimer and Edward planned in 
 the heroic future, Wilhelm Franz was putting into present 
 execution. 
 
 For a day or two past he had been engaged in the 
 boyish employment of flying a kite, but thus far unsuccess 
 fully. This afternoon, however, as the girls were walking
 
 46 BELLA ; 
 
 and talking in mutual confidence, somebody outside the 
 wall said, "Ha !" Whether the sound of their voices had 
 gone over the wall, or through it, mattered not. Somebody 
 had heard ; and in the next moment a kite went flying up 
 in the air. It soared over the garden, and caught the atten 
 tion of the two girls. Matildie also saw it ; and the three 
 stood in silent admiration of its fluttering ascent, when, lo ! 
 it fell like a bird with cut wing. Down, down, it came, 
 lower and yet lower, beating about like a defeated eagle ; 
 and the three stood watching till it fluttered to their feet, 
 and lay there helpless. 
 
 "What a beautiful kite ! " said Matildie. 
 
 The girls stooped to examine it ; and there they read a 
 name stretched across the middle in large characters, 
 " Wilhelm Franz." At the same instant a voice sounded 
 behind. " Pardon, ladies, I was most culpably careless." 
 Turning, they saw a head above the wall ; and a pair of 
 luminous eyes were looking directly into the sacred en 
 closure. 
 
 " Pardon, ladies ! " and a low bow greeted their upturned 
 eyes. " How shall I get my truant, unless you will be so 
 kind as to bear it up here to the wall ? " 
 
 Matildie blushed like a girl, and was on the point of re 
 buking the young intruder; but her natural politeness pre 
 vailed, and she said, " True, the gentleman is guilty of an 
 indiscretion; but we will assist him in his trouble, and may 
 the Virgin forgive us ! Bear you the kite, and I will fol 
 low to see that no harm comes to you." 
 
 They did not need a second direction ; but, seizing it 
 between them, they bore it across the intervening space, 
 and held it aloft to the extended arms of the young man, 
 who stood there with the coolness of a daring gymnastic 
 performer. 
 
 Wilhelm Franz had played his part well. He knew
 
 OR, THE CRADLE OP LIBERTY. 47 
 
 Lola s voice the instant he heard it. She spoke with 
 softness always ; but her tones were clear and musical as 
 the chiming of vesper-bells. Wilhelm had caught their 
 first intonations ; and, swiftly rushing to the windward side 
 of the garden, he sent his kite soaring. It went above 
 the enclosed space, as he knew it would; and, when it had 
 reached the centre, he severed the string with his pocket- 
 knife. Now as he saw the kite coming toward him, 
 borne on one side by Lola herself, he took out a paper 
 from an inner pocket ; and, as the girls raised the kite to 
 his hands, he dropped the paper at Lola s feet. In the 
 next moment the great bell of the convent rang. 
 
 The girls started in affright, and Matildie turned waxen 
 pale. " We have been seen," she said. " Holy Mother, 
 forgive us ! " 
 
 The three ladies went hastily in. They were met at the 
 door by Sister Cecilie. Her face was long and grave, her 
 manner that of a solemn judge. 
 
 " The lady superior desires you," said Cecilie, at the same 
 time leading the way. 
 
 Bella was in a tremor, which increased as Lola came 
 close to her, and stealthily pressed into her pocket a folded 
 paper. In Lola s face there was a holy joy. She had 
 seen those eyes; her Wilhelm was near: it was enough. 
 She came before the lady superior with a face serene as a 
 cloudless sky, and impervious as soul could make it. She 
 heard the accusation. Cecilie, chancing to look from her 
 window, had witnessed the proceedings, and said she saw a 
 paper fall from the gentleman s hand. The lady superior 
 looked distressed. 
 
 But Lola was calm and firm. 
 
 " It is true," she said. "An inadvertence, I suppose. I 
 picked up this." 
 
 She placed in the lady superior s hand an envelope.
 
 48 BELLA ; 
 
 It was utterly blank. Not a mark, nor even a scratch, was 
 on it. Wilhelm had been wise. 
 
 " Did you pick up nothing ? " asked the lady superior 
 of Bella. 
 
 " Nothing," said Bella laconically ; but at the moment 
 she tremblingly grasped the folded paper in her pocket, as 
 though she would keep it there. 
 
 Nothing more could be elicited ; but upon Matildie 
 penances were laid, not severe, however ; for Matildie s 
 lovely rectitude had hitherto caused her to be a favorite. 
 Walks in the garden were forbidden for a time ; and the 
 pupils settled down into quiet and unnatural studiousness. 
 
 Lola read her letter in gilence ere she slept, and on the 
 morrow she made no outward sign. Not even Bella knew 
 the contents ; but in the thoughts and plans of the delicate 
 girl a change was progressing. The owner of the kite did 
 not leave the place. He lingered around, still gathering 
 mosses, and watching every motion that could possibly be 
 seen from the outside. The house seemed to him like a 
 place where humanity was striving painfully to divest 
 itself of its God-given attributes. 
 
 His perseverance met its reward. Before the time for 
 bidden to the garden had expired, the lady superior so far 
 relented of her stringent rule as to permit the pupils a walk 
 outside, a favor not uncommon in ordinary times, and 
 desirable for the pupils health. Matildie was not allowed 
 to go ; but Nativitie could be trusted. "No harm will come 
 to my pupils if Nativitie takes charge of the walk," the 
 superior said. 
 
 Bella was delighted with the thought of the walk, and 
 almost danced with glee. But Lola was quiet, and, going 
 to her window, slily suspended a thread therefrom ; and at 
 the end of the thread a white paper fluttered. Nothing was 
 written on the paper ; but it told its tale nevertheless, and
 
 OR, THE CRADLE OF LIBERTY. 49 
 
 the moss-gatherer understood it. The hour for the walk 
 came ; and, as Nativitie led her band up a quiet road, a 
 stout Canadian horse rolled up behind the party ; a man 
 leaped from the carriage ; a pair of strong arms seized upon 
 Lola ; a pair of luminous eyes flashed back defiance ; a leap 
 was taken to the carriage again, and Lola was gone from 
 the convent to return no more.
 
 60 BELLA 
 
 CHAPTER VI. 
 
 went on, and glorious, leafy aummer came. 
 But not to all did she bring plenty and joy and 
 peace. Beneath her skies trouble lurked ; and on 
 that summer s night the stars looked down on a 
 piteous spectacle. Friends and foes lay together; 
 and the night-breezes blew over all. The horse and his 
 rider were fallen together; and the same mandate had 
 hushed both in a rest that would never be broken. Night 
 drew her merciful drapery around the scene, and her dews 
 were like a soft mantle over sorrow and woe. 
 
 Deep in* the centre of that night, and deep in the middle 
 of that field, a soldier raised his head. The midnight 
 damps were on his brow. His hair was tangled with the 
 gore of fallen men. Near him were corpses, men lying in 
 uniform, staring into the heavens above. The ground was 
 furrowed with seams, and trampled with the footprints of 
 deadly fight. 
 
 The rising soldier gazed around him with mute sensations. 
 It seemed that he had heard the voice of the Master calling 
 in the cool of the night ; and, rising, he said, " Here am I." 
 He passed his hand over his brow. He stretched his aching 
 limbs and his strong frame. He felt a thirst ; but there 
 was no water within his reach. His tongue was hot, and 
 his lips dry. He opened them to the night-wind, and it 
 entered with cooling strength. " I shall live," he said. "J 
 will get up and stand among these who are dead."
 
 OR, THE CRADLE OF LIBERTY. 51 
 
 But, when he attempted to stand, a pain caught him in 
 the side, and he dropped. He felt a gushing : it was his 
 own blood, and he knew it. For a time he lay quite still, 
 and the flowing ceased; but the thirst, the tormenting thirst, 
 continued : it tortured him. Suddenly, however, his full 
 consciousness returned. He thought of his canteen : it was 
 not empty, and he drank. Then he bound his handker 
 chief over the wound, and lay quite still. Among all those 
 forms around him he alone had life. He thanked his God 
 for himself; but he sorrowed for the less fortunate, for those 
 who had gone before their time, hastened into the eternal 
 Presence by this sanguinary fight. Then he slept. 
 
 When he awoke the sun was gilding the open cemetery 
 about him. It was ghastly ; and he closed his eyes with a 
 sickening sensation. He lay a little while. The sun came 
 up, and cleared the mists away. The beauty of the opening 
 day fell upon the ghostly carnival. Then came sounds of 
 voices. Living men were walking among the dead. The 
 sound revived the soldier, and once more he raised his head. 
 Instantly half a dozen men sprang towards him. 
 
 " Capt. Beale, Capt. Beale ! The Lord be praised ! 
 We thought you were gone forever." 
 
 " I guess not," said Mortimer. " I am a little damaged, 
 though. How went the battle ? " 
 
 " Hard enough for both sides," was the answer from one 
 of the men. " There may be glory in war ; but there s a 
 pesky sight that isn t glory." 
 
 They made a litter, and then carried the soldier away. 
 He was counted among the living, and not among the dead. 
 
 But he had been reported dead ; and his comrades, who 
 had learned to love him, and had witnessed his promotion 
 with pleasure, had mourned for him as for the departed. 
 A message had gone North to the father ; and that father 
 had bowed in grief, he groaned in his cottage. And the 
 mother wept, for the pride of her life was taken away.
 
 52 BELLA ; 
 
 " I will arise and go to my son," said the old man. " I 
 will bring his bones to thee, his mother." 
 
 By express-trains, with eager haste, he hurried. Sorrow 
 was in his soul ; the lines of grief were on his brow. Over 
 the rails the car- wheels whirled ; over the ground the train 
 thundered. 
 
 Said a Turcoman chief, " My horse can gallop a hundred 
 miles a day for six days together, and still be fresh." 
 
 But the Turcoman steed pales utterly beside the iron 
 horse. He never tires. Feed him with caloric and water, 
 and he will run a race that the Turcoman never conceived 
 in his wildest and most Tartaric moods. Thus the iron 
 horse bore Chauncey Beale to his son. His heart was in 
 his mouth. He trembled as he stood before the colonel, and 
 asked for the dead body of his son. But the colonel sprang 
 to his feet, and grasped the old man s hand. " Your son 
 was dead, and is alive again." 
 
 " Alive ! " repeated Mr. Beale. " Is Mortimer alive ? " 
 
 " I am happy, sir, to say that Capt. Beale is alive." 
 
 There is no need to speak* of what followed. Not every 
 father who went to the camp in that war was so blessed. 
 
 When Mr. Beale returned home, he had the living form 
 of a living son ; and he had another, who was even more 
 deeply wounded than Mortimer, but who, being taken up 
 among the wounded, had not been reported dead. That 
 other was Edward Forresst. Together the boys had gone 
 out ; together the men had come back, thankful that they 
 were alive. As children, they had loved each other ; as 
 men, their hearts were close-knit. Mrs. Beale received her 
 son in her little parlor ; Mrs. Forresst took hers into her 
 spacious house : but the same sweet motherly love gilded 
 both places. 
 
 Now it was a question of time and patience, and 
 strength of constitution, and good nursing ; and the boy
 
 OE, THE CRADLE OF LIBERTY. 63 
 
 in the cottage gained upon the boy in the mansion. Mor 
 timer was speedily better ; but Edward halted. He was 
 feverish and restive ; and the days were a burden to him. 
 His mother worked for him ; his sisters worked ; and Harry 
 was on constant watch. 
 
 " Mother," said Edward one day, " I am going away to 
 that better land." 
 
 The mother clasped her hands. 
 
 " Say not so, my Edward." 
 
 "I say as it seems to me, mother. I am going away; 
 and I want Bella." 
 
 " You shall have her," said the mother, and went down 
 to find her other children. She told them what Edward 
 said, and added her wish that Bella should be immediately 
 sent for. 
 
 What is human nature ? Even in that hour Miss 
 Nellie demurred. " Send for Bella ; and here is Morti 
 mer Beale close by ! " 
 
 "Nellie," said the mother sternly, "think of Ed 
 ward!" 
 
 Something in the words and look made Nellie ashamed. 
 She said no more ; but, taking her pen, she wrote for Bella 
 to come to her dying brother. 
 6*
 
 54 BELLA ; 
 
 CHAPTER VII. 
 
 HEY were sorry at the convent, sorry for Bella s 
 misfortune, sorry to lose her. She was both sorry 
 and glad. She wept for Edward, but she was 
 heartily glad to go home ; for, though her inter- 
 course with the sisters had been pleasant, she longed 
 for her mother s bosom and her familiar home. She bade 
 the sisters farewell with joy and gladness, with smiles and 
 yet with tears. 
 
 Once away, and in the cars, and on the road home, she 
 was a new person. The world seemed larger, brighter, 
 more beautiful, than she ever knew it ; and, but for Ed- 
 ward, how happy she could be ! When she thought of 
 him, her childhood s brother, the tears came in her eyes, 
 and she looked forward with a shudder. Would he die 
 there, in her own home, as her father died ? 
 
 But her thoughts neither hurried nor retarded her 
 course. In due time she reached the roomy house, stood 
 again on the familiar steps, and entered the well-remem 
 bered door. 
 
 How natural it seemed ! The dear mother met her with 
 a passionate embrace ; Harry, with his broad, strong face, 
 gave her a brotherly greeting ; and even Nellie and Ade 
 laide softened to smiles as she came joyfully to kiss them. 
 
 To Edward her coming was a recuperative power. It 
 seemed that he needed her exuberance of health and 
 spirits. She looked at him, put her arms about his neck,
 
 OR, THE CRADLE OF LIBERTY. 55 
 
 and said, " Why, Eddie, you are not going to die ! I shall 
 cure you." 
 
 She made him have faith in her. She flew up and down 
 the stairs on tireless feet ; she carried him bits of every 
 good thing: she watched her mother dress his wound; she 
 breathed over him her own strong spirit. 
 
 Nellie and Adelaide were shocked at this overflow of 
 spirits; but to Edward they were as life-giving cordials. 
 Contrary to all expectations, the soldier began to revive ; 
 and the older brothers and sisters were compelled to ac 
 knowledge that the returned sister had " done him good." 
 
 But now came the vexed question of Mortimer. Ed 
 ward would have him, and the mother seconded her 
 wounded boy. Nellie pursed her mouth indignantly, but 
 all in vain. 
 
 " It had come to fine times if Edward and Bella were 
 to have their way in every thing." 
 
 But the mother was firm for her sick boy. He should 
 be gratified ; and thus, in spite of Miss Nellie, it came 
 about that Capt. Beale and Bella met often in Edward s 
 chamber, and often, by Edward s own contrivance, were 
 tete-a-tete in the chamber adjoining. 
 
 They were changed from formerly. The captain s edu 
 cation had been finished at the cannon s mouth ; hers had 
 the artistic touch of " The Holy Virgins : " but in aifection 
 and soul they were still the same. Edward improved 
 slowly, until he was able to go out. He could go among 
 the neighbors ; he could visit Mortimer. There was no 
 longer any need that Mortimer should come to see him. 
 But still he came. He was not a boy in diffidence ; and yet 
 he dared not speak to others of the love that he and Bella 
 talked each day. He felt ashamed of his cowardice ; but 
 a fear of refusal held him back, until at last he said, 
 " Bella, all this is futile, unless your family like me. After
 
 56 BELLA ; 
 
 all, I fear you never will be mine. Your friends, all but 
 Edward, are against me." 
 
 " My mother likes you, Mortie." 
 
 " Do you suppose she would give you to me ? " 
 
 " Go and ask her," Bella replied. 
 
 " Go with me, then," said he. " I dare not go alone." 
 
 "Are you a coward?" asked she, laughing. 
 
 " I would rather face a regiment of cavalry than ask her 
 that." 
 
 " Why, Mortimer ! " she said, surprised. 
 
 " I cannot help it. I am afraid of her. Ask her for 
 me." 
 
 " Me ! " asked Bella. " Why, that is not the way. 
 The gentleman should ask." 
 
 " But I am poor," said he. " I cannot show her an 
 elegant house or lands, or money in bank." 
 
 " You can show yourself, Mortie. Come ! " 
 
 Taking him by the hand, she led him to her mother s 
 room, led him to the old lady s side. 
 
 " Mother," she said simply, " Mortimer wants me for his 
 wife." 
 
 Mrs. Forresst looked up. She seemed not much sur 
 prised, but only asked, 
 
 "Is that so, Mortimer?" 
 
 "That is just so, madam; if you will but think me 
 worthy." 
 
 Mrs. Forresst turned toward her child. 
 
 "Your father thought kindly of him, Bella. I shall 
 respect your father s wishes." 
 
 " Madam," said Mortimer, "I thank you. I should have 
 asked you long ago, but that I feared denial. I am not 
 ready to take her. I cannot do by her as I would wish. 
 Will you keep her for me till I can claim her by showing 
 you a home of comfort for her ? "
 
 OK, THE CEADLE OF LIBERTY. 67 
 
 
 
 I will keep her." 
 
 " And, when I call, you will give her to me ? " 
 
 " I will give her to you now ; and, when you call for her, 
 you will be claiming what is your own. I "say this because 
 some of my family may oppose you, and I would have it 
 distinctly understood that she is yours. In giving her to 
 you, I but fulfil my husband s wishes. Though he is gone, 
 his wishes are my law. It was his aim to give unrestricted 
 freedom to each child, unless he saw them doing what is 
 contrary to the law of God ; which, I thank Heaven, they 
 have never seemed inclined to do. I repeat it, then, 
 Bella is yours. [ will give her to you, and I will keep her 
 safe till you are ready for her. May God bless you both ! " 
 
 Electrified at this ready consent, they stood in silence a 
 moment; then Mortimer wound his arm about the girl, and, 
 standing erect, took her hand in his, and with clear voice 
 said, " Mine by your mother s gift, and by the pleasure of 
 our G<fd, mine forever." 
 
 "Even so," responded Mrs. Eorresst, standing before 
 them. She placed her right hand on the black tresses of 
 the blushing girl, her left hand on his broad shoulder, and 
 enunciated clearly, " By the consent of the father, now si 
 lent in the grave, by my own consent, who soon will lie by 
 the departed, and by the grace of God, who ordained that 
 men and women should love each other, I betroth you till 
 such time as you can wed by public law, by a minister of 
 God." 
 
 " It is almost like a marriage," said Mortimer. He was 
 deeply impressed. It seemed as though his highest wishes 
 had been sanctified, and that, from an unseen presence, 
 a blessing had fallen upon them. 
 
 " Madam," he said with a trembling voice, " I am over 
 whelmed. Allow me to sit with my bride for a little time." 
 
 " Go," said Mrs. Forresst. " Go, Bella. The parlor is 
 vacant."
 
 58 BELLA ; 
 
 " Mother, dear mother," said Bella, " we will come back 
 to you by and by." 
 
 " Not to-night, my children, not to-night. I am weary 
 now. Kiss me, and go." 
 
 They bent their heads and kissed her forehead, and then 
 went out together. The mother heard them open the par 
 lor-door, then she went up stairs. 
 
 Nellie was alone in her chamber. She was thinking of 
 the subject that was engrossing her mother, though all un 
 conscious of the drama that was passing below. She was 
 thinking that Mortimer s visits were quite too frequent. 
 She was thinking that he was too oftenwith Bella, that 
 the consequences would be serious ; and, though he was 
 "called Capt. Beale, he was really only Mortimer Beale 
 grown up." She thought that she must speak to Frederic, 
 and they must take Bella somewhere. As she was ponder 
 ing, her mother entered the room. 
 
 Mrs. Forresst looked weary. She was slightly overcome, 
 and yet she was not sorry. She felt that she was but carry 
 ing out the wishes of her departed husband. She placed 
 her lamp on the table ; and, going up to Nellie, she said, 
 " I have given Bella away." 
 
 " Mother, what do you mean ? " 
 
 "I have given Bella away. She is mine no longer." 
 
 " To that Mortimer ? " 
 
 " I have given her to Mortimer." 
 
 " Mother, how could you ? Are they down stairs now ? " 
 
 " They are in the parlor." 
 
 Miss Nellie arose. 
 
 " Where are you going ? " asked the mother. 
 
 " To the parlor." 
 
 "Nellie, if you go there, you will disturb that which 
 God has sanctioned. In accordance with your father s 
 wishes, I have given her to Mortimer."
 
 OR, THE CRADLE OF LIBERTY. 59 
 
 For a moment the young lady hesitated. The sacredness 
 of her father s name arrested her, but served only to moder 
 ate her wrath. She was about to turn the daring young 
 man from the house ; but her father s name had checked 
 that thought. She went quietly, and, entering the parlor, 
 seated herself by the table, took up a book, and proceeded, 
 apparently, to read. What was there for the young lovers 
 but a few commonplace remarks ? Indignation filled Mor 
 timer s soul. Had she been a man, he would have spurned 
 her from his presence ; but her sex protected her. He 
 choked and bore it ; and at last, with a slight common 
 place parting, he arose and left the house. Then Miss 
 Nellie complacently returned up stairs. Bella went to her 
 mother with an indignant tale.
 
 60 BELLA 
 
 CHAPTER VIII. 
 
 ISS NELLIE went to her bed, but not to sleep: 
 she lay on her pillow in all her pride, the pride 
 that would not leave her even in the hush of 
 repose. 
 
 " I must do something decisive," she said to her 
 self. " That fellow is so insinuating, he just moulds every 
 body in his own way. I must write to Frederic : I can 
 depend upon him." 
 
 When morning came, Nellie arose and wrote another 
 letter to her brother Frederic. The sly Adelaide carried it 
 to the post-office. Nellie never did her own errands : such 
 offices were quite beneath her ; and Adelaide was but a 
 ready messenger. What mattered who carried the message ? 
 It was the letter itself that did the harm. It was an 
 effective document, and did its work. Two days there 
 after, there appeared in the doorway of Mrs. Forresst a 
 heavy " swell." 
 
 To appreciate Mr. Frederic Forresst, one needs to see 
 him. Description of him runs thus : He entered his 
 mother s house with an air that said plainly, " You are 
 very much honored by my presence." He swung back his 
 circular cloak, tossed it gracefully from his shoulders, hung 
 it upon the hooks at the rear of the hall, and hung his 
 glistening beaver beside it. He placed his ivory stick 
 beneath them. He missed the hall-mirror to which his 
 later habits accustomed him ; and, arranging his polished
 
 OR, THE CRADLE OF LIBERTY. 61 
 
 locks by the mirror of imagination, he bowed his way into 
 the family-sitting-room. 
 
 Exceedingly polite and bland he was, a finished courtier 
 in every respect. He paid his respects to his mother, 
 then to his sisters, and then went into formal rejoicings 
 over Edward s improved condition. The noontide dinner 
 was served ere he broached the object of his visit. He 
 began by remarking, " You have been an excellent nurse, 
 Sister Bella. Edward is quite recuperated. And I see the 
 advantages of your brief scholastic term have not been lost 
 upon you. I propose now to take you with me to Boston. 
 Those ringlets are quite too beautiful to be kept in seclu 
 sion." 
 
 " Not to-day, Frederic ? " asked Bella, looking up with a 
 frightened air. 
 
 " And why not to-day ? " he returned. " I am here, and 
 cannot come again. Edward will be down there himself 
 very soon. I will find business there for him." 
 
 That decided the question. Bella would go if Edward 
 would. And another secret thought came to her, Edward 
 could find business for Mortimer. Yes, she would go. 
 
 Her manners were softened and refined by her pupilage, 
 and it proved as Frederic predicted. She became quite a 
 favorite in the circle to which he introduced her, and that 
 circle was by no means of the lowest. He also fulfilled his 
 promise to Edward, and found him employment. Then 
 came the last act on the programme. Edward found em 
 ployment for Mortimer, and Mortimer came ; and, as a 
 natural consequence, he and Bella met ; and Mr. Frederic 
 himself saw them walking together on Washington Street 
 
 Then Mr. Frederic Forresst flushed. All within himself 
 
 the tempest was; but it was none the less violent by being 
 
 pent. The ivory-headed cane writhed about like a spiral 
 
 cord as he twirled it in his gloved fingers ; and his mustache, 
 
 6
 
 62 BELLA ; 
 
 which, in repose, rested square across his cheeks, and termi 
 nated in the finest of waxed ends, went at angles now, 
 until it stopped with both points turning heavenward. 
 That indicated that Mr. Frederic Forresst had arrived at a 
 decision in which temper had played an important part. 
 He walked on with the ends upward, until he reached home; 
 then the mustache went down. He had a part to play, and 
 he was a thorough actor. When Bella came in, he was the 
 blandest, most cordial of brothers. She thought he was 
 never so agreeable, and heartily wished he would always 
 wear his agreeableness, " it was so becoming." 
 
 The next morning he was even affectionate ; invited 
 Bella to an excursion with him, in which, he remarked, 
 he would show her some new features of the world ; and 
 was, altogether, the most tender of brothers. He had a 
 " little business out of town," he said, and her company 
 would make the journey " more agreeable." 
 
 She knew that he often made business tours, and she 
 accepted this invitation at once. 
 
 " How long shall we be gone ? What shall I need to 
 carry for dress ? " she asked. 
 
 " It is impossible to tell," he responded. " You had bet 
 ter put up quite an extensive wardrobe." 
 
 They started one sunshiny morning ; and she was radiant 
 with happiness, like all young people when going out to see 
 the world. She had money, dress, and all that she needed 
 for comfort ; and she thought Frederic extremely kind to 
 take her with him. 
 
 And he thought We will not try to tell his thoughts, 
 but judge them by his acts. They went by rail first, then 
 by stage, and finished their journey by stopping among the 
 Shakers.
 
 OR, THE CEADLE OP LIBERTY. 63 
 
 CHAPTER IX. 
 
 and darkness ! From the noon of day to 
 midnight; from the warm sunshine of love to the 
 depths of arctic frigidity. 
 
 Thus it seemed to Bella. Her brother was gone. 
 She was left, without money in her pocket, in a 
 strange place. She felt powerless. Mr. Frederic had agreed 
 with the Shaker family for her board, and she had plenty of 
 clothes. "What more does she need?" was his soliloquy. 
 " If she has money, she will use it to come back ; and I 
 cannot trust her here while Beale is here." 
 
 In her chamber Bella wept continually. She tried to 
 erase the traces of tears when she appeared in the family ; 
 but the eldresses could see that she was in distress. They 
 coaxed her, they flattered, they brought her dainties to eat; 
 but still, when she was alone, she wept, and the eldresses 
 knew it. They were sorry for her. They said, " The cruel 
 world has touched her hard. There is no safety in it. It 
 is a blessing that she has come among us. We will help 
 her forget her troubles." 
 
 Then these quiet, industrious women tried, in their way, 
 to make her happy : they let her go about, and took her into 
 their clean, airy kitchen, and among their various indus 
 tries. She flitted out and in, and wandered about the 
 grounds ; she saw the buildings, and the men quietly at 
 work, and they saw her. The staid old men shut their 
 holy eyes, and the women pitied her.
 
 64 BELLA ; 
 
 * 
 
 Unconscious of the sensations she produced, she contin 
 ued to wander, as if in that ajone lay her relief. In a few 
 days she knew every nook on the premises. 
 
 Not far away, among the buildings of the Shaker villa, 
 was a carpenter s shop ; and within it was the sound of a 
 plane. It seemed to be moving briskly, and gave the still 
 air cheerful vibrations. She looked toward the shop. " Who 
 is in there ? " her curiosity asked ; and she went on till she 
 reached the door. Then, looking in, she saw a bench with 
 a board on it, and a young man was pushing a plane length 
 wise on the board. He was unlike the other men she had 
 seen. His brow was open and high : the thick hair, cluster 
 ing upward, and thrown backward, covered his head in raven 
 masses. He was trim and straight in form ; and, as he 
 looked up at her entrance, she saw his eyes of intense 
 blackness. 
 
 " How do you do ? " he asked by way of greeting. 
 
 Feeling embarrassed, she scarce knew how to reply ; and, 
 ignoring the question, she said simply, "May I come in ? " 
 
 " If you would like to," he answered. 
 
 " What are you doing ? " she asked. 
 
 " Can t you see ? " he replied, shoving his plane. 
 
 " Do you belong here ? " was her next question. 
 
 " I don t belong anywhere else." 
 
 The answer pleased her. It seemed like the world from 
 which she had come. Before she could speak, she found 
 herself the questioned. 
 
 " What is your name ? " 
 
 " Bella Forresst." 
 
 " Where did you come from ? " 
 
 "Boston, last." 
 
 " What are you here for ? " 
 
 " To keep me on my good behavior, I believe." 
 
 " I thought as much."
 
 OK, THE CRADLE OF LIBERTY. 65 
 
 This dry answer was accompanied by an uplifting of the 
 eyebrows and a sparkle of the eyes that showed a keen 
 sense of the situation ; and Bella recognized a spirit kindred 
 to her own. She seemed to have known this stranger all 
 her life ; and she addressed him as he had her. 
 
 " What is your name ? " 
 
 "Elijah Cressy." 
 
 The name came through his teeth as if forced ; and he 
 added, "It is not so fine a name as yours; but no matter: 
 pretty is that pretty does." 
 
 Bella laughed a rippling laugh that restored the young 
 man s feelings ; and he asked, "Are you going to join the 
 community ? " 
 
 " Would you advise me to ? " 
 
 "No." 
 
 " What do you stay here for ? " 
 
 " Well, Miss Forresst, you see " At that moment, 
 bounding heels over head, an object came in at the door. 
 Bella started ; but Elijah appeared unconcerned. The ob 
 ject proved to be a boy ; and, as he stood upright, he seemed 
 the most startled of the three. 
 
 "Jack," said the carpenter, "this is Miss Forresst, a friend 
 of mine from Boston : I wish you would stand at the door." 
 
 As he spoke, he gave Jack a wink ; and the boy went in 
 to position at once. Straight in the doofway he stood ; and, 
 while he did not forget to look within, he rolled his eyes 
 outward in keen glances. No elder could come unseen. 
 
 Then Elijah and Bella talked a little, as congenial spir 
 its on the enemy s ground, and both disposed to fight their 
 own way. 
 
 " I want to see you longer than I can here," said Elijah. 
 "Eldress Nancy will do almost any thing to please you. 
 Every night, at half-past nine, somebody locks the great 
 outer doors of both sides of the house ; and the whole house
 
 C6 BELLA ; 
 
 is stilled. You can ask Eldress Nancy to let you lock them 
 on your side, and I will ask leave on mine. When we get 
 to the middle door, we will slip out and take a walk togeth 
 er. It is the only way we can talk alone." 
 
 She looked in his eyes as if searching for truth, and then 
 said, " I will." 
 
 That night, as the stars were shining, the two moved 
 stealthily from the great doors, and wandered away beneath 
 the spangled heavens. When they were away, they began 
 to talk. Elijah told her his history, how from child 
 hood he had been an orphan, and had no other home but 
 this; how he had often marvelled about the world, and 
 whether he could live there as other people lived, earning 
 his own way; and why he could not have somebody all 
 his own to love ; and how he had sometimes thought he 
 would run away, but then he knew no place, nor had any 
 friends. 
 
 Then Bella told him her story ; and he asked many ques- 
 
 tions about Mortimer, his principles, and how he looked, 
 
 adding at last, " You needn t be troubled about him, Miss 
 
 Bella: you have only to write to him, and he ll make it 
 
 straight for you, at least I would, if I was in his place." 
 
 " I have written to-day," was Bella s response ; " and to 
 morrow I shall send it to the office by Elder Jonathan." 
 
 " He won t carry it," Elijah replied. 
 
 " Why ? Am I in another convent ? " 
 
 "No; but then you know they like to persuade young 
 people to stay here ; and, besides, it is a wicked thing to go 
 back to the world. They would grieve for you." 
 
 Bella laughed. The idea seemed to her absurdity. But 
 Elijah did not laugh. He had been under those doctrines 
 too long to laugh at them. He only felt their weight ; and 
 he responded seriously, 
 
 " I will mail your letter for you. Elder Jonathan, though 
 an old man, may like you too well. Do not trust him."
 
 OE, THE CRADLE OF LIBERTY. 67 
 
 "And how do I know I can trust you? You may like 
 me too well. You may want to keep me." 
 
 He jerked away his arm, and her hand fell. He stood 
 straight before her : his eyes gleamed, and his hair shook as 
 in anger. 
 
 " Miss Bella, do you take me for an idiot ? Don t I 
 know that you are. a refined young lady, and I an ignorant 
 young man ? Why should I seek to keep you or hetray 
 your trust ? " 
 
 Bella laid her hand on his arm. "Pardon me, Elijah! 
 I have seen so much trouble, I hardly know whom to trust. 
 I will give you the letter to-morrow, and thank you ten 
 times over if you will see that it goes." 
 
 It was thus that Bella gained a friend; and a correspond 
 ence opened that led to wide results. Elijah did not turn 
 himself into a mail-carrier, but he made Jack his messen 
 ger; and the boy skipped like a monkey at the joke he felt 
 these letters were perpetrating. Jack was born for fun ; but 
 he found little of it in this staid life, and to carry sly let 
 ters for a handsome young lady like Miss Bella was to him 
 a continual feast. 
 
 Time passed on, and an event of interest to them was to 
 occur in the Shaker family. A gentle girl had been persuad 
 ed to adopt the costume of the sect, and become one 
 of the sanctified. The elders and eldresses rejoiced in 
 her conversion, and bent their energies towards bringing 
 Bella to the same ideas. Eldress Nancy and all the others 
 tried their persuasive methods of arguing, but with no ef 
 fect. She listened respectfully ; but her nature had no af 
 finity with their doctrines. She grew weary of their teas 
 ing, and wrote notes to Elijah, instead of accepting their 
 invitations. In his replies he confessed that he felt like 
 "less than a man " to allow the tender Emily thus to sac 
 rifice her natural hopes and loves, and take upon herself
 
 68 BELLA ; 
 
 these unnatural vows. To these expressions Bella replied 
 boldly, " Why do you not take her out to the world, and be 
 married like other people ? " 
 
 " Where can I carry her, and what shall I do with her ? " 
 he asked. " I should be lost in the world myself. How, 
 then, can I enter it with a tender woman under my care?" 
 
 Meantime the eldresses continued their importunities. 
 They made an entire conventual suit for Emily, every seam 
 and fold of which was in the most approved manner of their 
 sect. Bella looked at it and then at the women whose gar 
 ments were the same ; and she thought, " Never, never, will 
 I wear such a dress." 
 
 Seeing their own failure in persuasion, the eldresses sent 
 for Elder Jonathan. He was an oracle in their eyes ; and 
 they thought he surely could influence her. He came and 
 stood before her. He described the glories of the sanctified, 
 and depicted the horrors of the world. He told her of their 
 safe home, and of the dangers of a tempting world ; and, as 
 he delivered his discourse, she restrained herself by the 
 rules of politeness, but within she was full of merriment. 
 His tall, thin form, his grave, elongated visage, and his con 
 ventual garments hanging closely on him, made him ludi 
 crous in her eyes ; but when he came day after day preach 
 ing the same words, she grew weary of hearing it, and 
 began to fancy that he came to please only himself, and a 
 great aversion to him seized her mind. This, also, she 
 communicated to Elijah, who sent her a note in reply, and 
 accompanying the note was a letter from Edward and Mor 
 timer. This letter created new hope in her. They wrote 
 of their plans, how they were going West where lands were 
 cheap, were going to start homes for themselves, and how 
 Edward had found Kate, Miss Kate Ward, and when 
 their homes were ready, they were coining back for their 
 brides. " Do not fear," said Mortimer : " we shall come out
 
 OR, THE CRADLE OP LIBERTY. 69 
 
 right yet." And Edward added, " You will like Kate for a 
 sister, I am sure." 
 
 She told this to Elijah, and he was moody. He said, "In 
 the world, young men have loves and do as they please. Is 
 there nothing for me ? " 
 
 Bella answered, "Leave this place, Elijah! Take Emily 
 and go. I will help you." 
 
 Elijah could not see how she could help him ; but the 
 courageous cheerfulness of her manner inspired him. He 
 said, u Maybe there is some good in store for me." Then 
 he returned to his shop, and she went to her room. Eldress 
 Nancy and Elder Jonathan renewed their arguments and 
 persuasions ; but she was firm. Still they did not cease en 
 treating; and on the morning of the consecrated sabbath, 
 when Eldress Nancy carried a new suit to Emily, she also 
 left one in Bella s room. Bella looked at its plain, sober 
 fashion. " Wear it ! " she said in her heart : " never ! Mor 
 timer is coming to-day : I will wear a dress befitting him." 
 
 She closed the door of her room, and opened her trunk. A 
 delicate perfume arose as she took out such articles as pleased 
 her. She spread them out, and proceeded to dress, while 
 Emily, in her room, was arrayed by Eldress Nancy. The 
 time came for service. The family met in the consecrated 
 room. Emily sat in her place, attired for her novitiate, her 
 mild young face reflecting its own light. All the family sat 
 in silence. All were there but Bella. 
 
 Presently along the passage soft steps were heard, and 
 there was a rustle of floating drapery, not such drapery as 
 the eldresses wear, but rustling drapery, such as the world 
 has. The sound was strange in that place. Every eye 
 turned towards the passage ; and there, upon the threshold, 
 appeared a vision of wondrous beauty. Amazement trans 
 fixed every face. The eldresses seemed stricken with hor 
 ror. The elders were like dazzled men. Elijah was petri 
 fied. Jack longed to jump, and cry " Hurrah ! "
 
 70 BELLA ; 
 
 Bella walked slowly in. Adown from her head flowed 
 her dark ringlets, a dress of pure white muslin floated 
 back in airy fulness, frills of deep lace hung over her bare 
 arms, a fan was in her hand, and her eyes sparkled with 
 brilliant light. Before the scandalized family could regain 
 their usual serenity, steps were heard outside, heavy 
 steps they were, full of manliness and vigor ; and when 
 they entered the room, there came from out that gossamer 
 a little cry, " Mortimer and Edward ! " 
 
 To explain what followed would be of itself a little 
 history. Afterward they were alone together. They told 
 her more fully of their plans; and she told them of Elijah s 
 kindness, of Emily, and Jack. 
 
 "We ought to reward Elijah," they remarked. 
 
 Then she told them the best reward would be to take 
 him and Emily away, and let them be like other people ; 
 and, when they had considered her proposal, they agreed 
 to it, except in one particular. She wanted to stay to help 
 Elijah and Emily secretly. Edward said, " No, Bella. 
 Do not stay in this place. Go back with us to mother." 
 She replied, "No. Let me stay, to encourage and assist 
 Emily: she will think she is breaking vows. Let me 
 stay, and show her why she has a right to break them. 
 Leave money with me, and I can get home by myself." 
 
 Three weeks after this, when the young men entered 
 the Western-bound train in Boston, Mr. and Mrs. Elijah 
 Cressy were with them. Jack was there also. With a 
 boy s alertness he had discovered the secret, and with a 
 boy s urgency had pressed his claims. He followed the 
 party into the car, pushed into a seat close by, and, look 
 ing about him, exclaimed, "Oh, my! ain t Miss Bella a 
 sharp one, to do all this for us, and they not find out ? 
 Ain t it fun ? " 
 
 But the family of sober people were sadly aggrieved.
 
 OR, THE CRADLE OF LIBERTY. 71 
 
 They wrote to Mr. Frederic Forresst, and bitterly com 
 plained of Bella. 
 
 " Upon my honor," said he, " if she is fond of playing 
 tricks and of associating with carpenters and boys, I can 
 put her where she will have plenty of such company." 
 
 Ere she had time to execute her plan for leaving her 
 post, like a captain who had stood by the ship till all were 
 saved, Mr. Frederic Forresst was on the scene ; and sudden 
 ly she was transported. She scarce realized his orders, or 
 knew what he meant, but obeyed, as by compulsion ; and 
 he took her as by right far away to a new scene. He 
 felt she must be punished. He went to a well-looking 
 house in the secluded village of Sheardown. By his side 
 was the young sister whom he was determined to subdue 
 to his wishes, or chastise according to his own ideas. He 
 drew the bell-knob; and it was opened by a plainly-dressed, 
 but good-looking woman, who responded to Mr. Forresst s 
 inquiry by saying, "/am Mrs. Babbette." 
 
 Mrs. Babbette was the teacher of a school in her own 
 house ; and Mr. Forresst had opened a correspondence with 
 her. She immediately invited him into her parlor, glan 
 cing at Bella as she followed her brother. When the three 
 were seated, Mrs. Babbette again cast searching glances at 
 Bella, causing the girl to feel queerly under this unnatural 
 scrutiny. At length Mrs. Babbette asked, " Is this young 
 lady the pupil you mentioned in your letter ? " 
 
 " The same, madam." 
 
 Mrs. Babbette gave the girl another searching glance, 
 and said, " Are you aware, sir, of the nature of my school ? 
 Do you know that it is for idiots and deformed children, 
 such as would not be suitable for the larger, more pro 
 gressive schools ? " 
 
 " I am quite aware, madam. Do you recollect what I 
 wrote you.?"
 
 72 BELLA ; 
 
 Mrs. Babbette did recollect ; but she only bowed assent. 
 She recollected that Mr. Forresst had written that his sister 
 had a perversity of character ; and she wondered at the 
 time how great or of what nature that perversity might 
 be. And now, as she looked at this beautiful maiden, she 
 marvelled still more, and was certain there must be some 
 mistake. But it was too late now to rectify it ; for with a 
 sweep and a bow that were gracefully and magnificently 
 appalling, Mr. Frederic Forresst arose, bowed himself out : 
 and the last impression that rested on Mrs. Babbette s 
 mind was that of two pointed mustache ends resting 
 squarely across her doorway in an obstinate, haughty man 
 ner, that said, " I am here. I am going ; for you two 
 obedience is the only requisite, /am ruler." 
 
 He disappeared. Mrs. Babbette turned to her pupil. 
 Bella still sat with her hat resting lightly above her dark, 
 flowing curls. Her lips were full and ripe, her form de 
 veloped as only health can develop a frame, and her chest 
 was heaving as only strong emotion checked by a stronger 
 will can cause the breast to heave. Mrs. Babbette was 
 touched. Her kindly nature felt, and her sagacity told her, 
 that something was wrong ; and, going to Bella, she laid 
 her hand on the dark curls. "My dear, there is some 
 strange mistake. Do not feel bad, but trust in me, and I 
 will know how to help you. I shall not take you into 
 my school as a pupil ; for I am sure you could better teach 
 me than I you. Come with me now, and see my school 
 as a visitor." 
 
 Before morning Mrs. Babbette had drawn from Bella the 
 story of her life ; and the next day, taking counsel from 
 her own heart, she wrote two letters. One, directed to Mr. 
 Frederic Forresst, contained her reasons for the course she 
 was taking, and was very explicit. The other was sent 
 to Bella s mother ; and Bella was the bearer. On her own
 
 OR, THE CRADLE OF LIBERTY. 73 
 
 responsibility Mrs. Babbette sent her where she felt it 
 was her proper place to be, to the mother who loved her 
 as no other could love. 
 
 When Mr. Frederic read his letter, his upper lip 
 twitched ; and the mustache described forty-five degrees of a 
 circle. But he was powerless : the strength of a conscien 
 tious woman had been his conqueror. Before he could 
 answer that letter, Bella was in her mother s arms, telling 
 the tale of her sorrows and of Mrs. Babbette s kind act. 
 7
 
 74 BELLA ; 
 
 CHAPTER X. 
 
 CLEAR-MINDED woman had given Mr. Frederic 
 Forresst a strong pill of truth ; and he swallowed it 
 ~J~J\, as a sick child gulps down a dose from the hands 
 of a straightforward nurse. He considered now 
 that Edward and Mortimer, the refractory boys, 
 being gone, there was no present danger, and permitted 
 Bella to remain at home. Adelaide was about to marry to 
 the taste of the family, and in accordance with its pride ; 
 and Bella s deft needle was both necessary and useful. 
 
 Then came other changes, as they often come to our 
 American families when the children marry one by one, and 
 the old homestead grows deserted. It was Nellie who 
 planned and pressed forward the final change. Nellie, the 
 last of the elder girls, had resolved to make for herself a 
 splendid match ; and, as preliminary, she must go where 
 superb men were to be found. According to her ideas, a 
 superb man lived in an elegant house, kept a carriage, wore 
 kid-gloves, and dined in fashionable style. In seeking an 
 elegant alliance, Miss Nellie found Mr. Frederic a ready 
 helper. They carried their point, persuaded the mother, 
 who felt that she was now but a withered branch, and sold 
 the old house with all its associations. Then they took a 
 house in Boston, a high, narrow house, on a street near 
 Mrs. Boynton, the oldest daughter of the Forresst family, 
 now the wife of a wealthy banker. 
 
 Bella did not feel at home in this new house, and would
 
 OE, THE CRADLE OF LIBEnfY. 75 
 
 have cried a little for the old homestead but for the thoughts 
 of the Western home whither her young hopes trended. 
 Mrs. Forresst did weep. The ancestral spirit flamed up 
 brightly in this old woman. She was proud of her home 
 in which her married life had been spent, and loved it as it 
 was. Her heart seemed tearing as she pulled herself away 
 from the long-trodden floors to try her feet in new places. 
 But Frederic said, "Upon my honor, mother, the house is 
 but an old, cracked shell, and wouldn t pay for keeping it 
 in repair." 
 
 Only one member of the family deserted home on account 
 of this arrangement, and that was Harry. He could not 
 be hedged by the conventional rules of a city, nor bring his 
 life and habits to the precincts of narrow streets. Therefore 
 he went away to the Aroostook country, where the wood 
 men felled the heavy timber. 
 
 Only Bella, the mother, and Miss Nellie began house 
 keeping in the new style ; and, but for the latter, Bridget 
 would have had an easy time. But Nellie had an object in 
 view; and she gained it. She won Dr. Bergmann, a Ger 
 man physician from Brooklyn, who had come to Boston for 
 scientific purposes, and found himself caught in the meshes 
 of a softer science. 
 
 Dr. Bergmann was fifty years old, and had been married. 
 But what of that ? He had the nice establishment, money, 
 and extensive practice, that constituted him a " superb 
 man." He was a learned man, and moved in profound 
 circles ; but he did not consider it necessary that his wife 
 should be learned. He wanted her to be graceful in figure 
 and elegant in manners, an ornament to his house, at 
 which he could look when he rested from deep thoughts. 
 
 Miss Nellie was very beautiful on her bridal day; and, 
 as she walked through the church-aisles with her orange 
 blossoms and bridal veil, the eyes of her friends followed
 
 76 BELLA ; 
 
 her admiringly. There Miss Nellie Forresst ended. There 
 was no more of her in Boston. Afterward there was a Mrs. 
 Nellie Bergmann in Brooklyn, elegantly riding in her ele 
 gant carriage. People said Dr. Bergmann had found a very 
 stylish wife. 
 
 Bella and her mother were left alone in their hired house 
 in the city. They were lonely, and could not feel con 
 tented. Bella thought of her Western home, where her 
 heart had already gone ; and Mrs. Forresst felt like a 
 stranger in her stylish house. She could not like the city : 
 it cramped her, and jostled her old-fashioned independence. 
 
 Then these two women formed a plan of their own, 
 how they would move out to the home of which Edward 
 had written, and help him and Mortimer, instead of waiting 
 till the young men had struggled up alone. The old lady 
 thought she should like the bracing breezes. And Bella 
 said, " Why cannot I be married there as well as here ? " 
 She wrote to Edward then, and told him they would freight 
 out their furniture, told him all their plans; and her 
 hopes were buoyant with these designs. 
 
 We may be sure there was delight in that newly-fledged 
 home. Jack crowed like a true chanticleer ; Emily smiled 
 in her quiet way ; Elijah s dark eyes beamed with pleasure ; 
 Mortimer felt that heaven was coming down; and Edward 
 wrote to tell the welcome. 
 
 It was then that Bella s trouble began. When Edward ^ 
 letter arrived, Bella and her mother immediately began 
 their preparations. They gave up the lease of their house, 
 wrote to Harry, and began preparing their goods for the 
 transit. 
 
 " Upon my honor ! " said Mr. Frederic to himself. His 
 anger was roused. He was not a man easily foiled by any 
 obstacle ; and was a .young girl to carry her will over his ? 
 His handsome face was set in lines of stern defiance : his
 
 OE, THE CEADLE OF LIBEETY. 77 
 
 mustache worked, and his thoughts worked also. " Is not 
 iny judgment superior to hers ? How does she know what 
 is best ? Long ago I swore that not a cent of my father s 
 property should ever bless Chauncey Beale or his progeny ; 
 and my oath is like a Mede and Persian law. Why didn t 
 Chauncey Beale have property to give his son ? I have no 
 patience with these thriftless men." 
 
 The mustache went up, and the mustache went down, 
 one end at a time, two ends, cornerwise, horizontally, and 
 at angles. Then like a flash it went square across, and 
 rested there. He had thought out his course. His mind 
 was at rest. 
 
 That evening, when the rumbling of teams was ceasing 
 in the streets, and the lights were aflame as guides, Mr. 
 Frederic Forresst might have been seen turning a corner, 
 with his gloved hand twirling his dapper cane. He walked 
 gracefully on a few blocks, then paused before a sign, 
 "Dr. Games." Mr. Forresst rang the bell. He was pres 
 ently ushered into a room, where sat the venerable physi 
 cian, a man said to be profoundly versed in mental as well 
 as physical diseases. He arose with a bow, as his visitor 
 entered. Mr. Frederic Forresst was a mftn often mentioned 
 in the higher business circles. Dr. Games knew him, and 
 felt honored by this call. He gave his visitor a suave bow. 
 Mr. Forresst received it as his right. 
 
 The next half-hour in that room would have been a study 
 for a philosopher in mind. The way the gentleman and 
 the doctor discussed the science of metaphysics in general, 
 and as applicable to Miss Bella in particular, should be put 
 down in medical journals as showing what can be said on 
 such subjects in these modern times. Surely temper had 
 a fearful hold upon Mr. Forresst, or he could not have 
 spoken of his sister as he did that evening ; and, with all 
 due respect to Dr. Games, we must say that neither his 
 7
 
 78 BELLA ; 
 
 venerable age nor great learning saved him from a mistake 
 on that occasion. It was strange, that without seeing the 
 young lady, and merely by the representation of a brother 
 whose motives he did not know, this respectable physician 
 should pronounce the word "insane." 
 
 Dr. Games advised Mr. Forresst to take his sister to an 
 asylum for a time. The doctor remarked that at asylums 
 they have facilities for restoring aberrations of mind ; that 
 he was in the practice of sending persons to these retreats, 
 and could recommend them as efficacious. Mr. Forresst 
 was delighted with this assurance. It accorded with his 
 wishes; and he should, he said, "immediately profit by the 
 doctor s advice." 
 
 "But," continued the pbysician, "the law requires that 
 two medical men shall visit the person, and pronounce 
 judgment." 
 
 " And to whom should you refer me ? " asked the gentle 
 man. 
 
 " I know no better man than Dr. Furbelough." 
 
 Mr. Forresst bowed, and was about to proceed to Dr. 
 Furbelough, when a sudden thought occurred to him. 
 " Would Dr. Games be so kind as to accompany him ? Dr. 
 Carnes. s advice might be invaluable." 
 
 For a gentleman of Mr. Forresst s type, people will won 
 derfully incommode themselves. Almost without being 
 aware that he was condescending from his usual habit, Dr. 
 Carnes arose and prepared for his walk. 
 
 They found Dr. Furbelough, a young man of pleasing 
 exterior and rising fame. He received them with a showy 
 dash of courtesy, a profusion of bows and smiles. He 
 listened while Dr. Carnes opened the case. He sighed 
 sympathetically, and turned to Mr. Forresst. "Very sad, 
 sir. Very trying for you. What are the particular mani 
 festations, violence, or stupidity ? "
 
 OR, THE CRADLE OF LIBERTY. 79 
 
 Dr. Carnes interposed. " I am sorry to say, sir, it ap 
 pears to be perverse obstinacy." 
 
 "Ah, indeed !" was the medical response. "Very dif 
 ficult to cure. It would be best to try an asylum at once. 
 Delay might increase the disease. My sympathies are with 
 you, Mr. Forresst. Miss Bella was a very fine girl." 
 
 Mr. Forresst acknowledged this sympathy by a bow. 
 
 " When shall we visit the patient ? " 
 
 The busy mind of Mr. Forresst had been preparing for 
 this question. He was not taken unawares. " I am so 
 very busy, gentlemen Suppose you make out your cer 
 tificates here, without personal examination." 
 
 They glanced at each other, and then replied, " The law 
 requires an examination." 
 
 " That is a very necessary law," Mr. Forresst observed ; 
 " but it is a law that cannot adapt itself to all cases. See 
 ing her could not affect your decision. You would find her 
 even more perverse than I have stated : indeed, I doubt 
 whether she would receive you, or answer your questions 
 with any spirit but rudeness." 
 
 " Ah ! Is she so bad as that ? " and -again they looked 
 at each other. They seemed to understand each other s 
 glances ; and certain mesmeric responses passed between 
 them in silent interchange. " It is contrary to law," said 
 the eyes of one. 
 
 " Yes," returned the other ; " but who will know it ? " 
 
 " And it is Mr. Forresst," observed the first. 
 
 " Yes, it is Mr. Forresst," echoed the second ; and then 
 they both glanced at the. gentleman. 
 
 11 Very rich," said one. 
 
 " And popular," added the other. 
 
 " What s the use ? " asked both. " If we should examine 
 her, we should doubtless find her as he states. Any way, 
 we shouldn t like to differ from him; and well what
 
 80 BELLA ; 
 
 do you say ? He is in haste, and we shall get our pay. 
 Who ll know ? " 
 
 They wrote the certificate then, the document that was 
 to confine an innocent, rational girl in an insane asylum. 
 They did it heartlessly, and then pocketed the fees that Mr. 
 Forresst drew liberally from a well-filled pocket-book. They 
 had earned their money with little trouble ; and, if they 
 had any regrets, they were that such cases did not oftener 
 .occur. 
 
 Mr. Forresst went home with the certificate in his 
 pocket; and he laughed softly between his set teeth. 
 " Cleverly done ! I fancy they would have met a rebuff if 
 they had paid her a medical visit. Ha, ha, ha ! " 
 
 The next legal step was to procure the signature of the 
 judge. This was easily accomplished. The certificate of 
 these physicians was sufficient testimony in the mind of 
 the judicial man. He might have inquired into the cir 
 cumstances, might have summoned a jury, and investigated 
 whether the certificate was a fraud, and whether the per 
 son was really a proper subject for the trying ordeal of con 
 fined existence ; but he took these things for granted, and 
 signed a legal commitment in which Bella Forresst was set 
 forth as an insane person, and a fit subject for an insane 
 asylum. Thus her fetters were riveted by a judge who had 
 never even seen her. Accused criminals have a public trial, 
 with a chance for self-defence, ere they are sent to prison. 
 Persons accused of insanity have no such opportunity, but 
 are forced into asylums without power to prevent the incar 
 ceration. The statute laws give them ways for proving their 
 sanity, and for escape if sane ; but the arts of physicians 
 and friends contrive to elude these laws, or destroy their 
 effects; and statutes, framed to prevent unjust imprison 
 ments, are twisted and executed according to the caprices of 
 those who imprison, till they become practically statutes 
 for life-imprisonment.
 
 OE, THE CRADLE OF LIBERTY. 81 
 
 There is, in papers of commitment, one clause that has a 
 chance for the victim to escape ; but practically it is use 
 less. This clause was inserted in this warrant, and stated 
 that the paper of committal should be read to Bella twelve 
 hours previous to her removal to the asylum. Mr. Forresst 
 made this clause void by a short method. He did not read 
 it to her. 
 
 " Upon my honor," he mused, " what would be the 
 effect of giving her twelve hours notice ? She would use 
 the time in disappearing, unless I place a guard over her, 
 which is too much trouble. And who will know whether I 
 follow the law ? In these cases we must be a law unto our 
 selves." 
 
 Then he went to his sister, Mrs. Boynton, and informed 
 her of these arrangements. 
 
 "Surely," she said, "you do not mean to send Bella 
 to an insane asylum ? What a disgrace ! " 
 
 " Upon my honor, Eunice ! which is the greater dis 
 grace, that, or a squatter s cabin ? And to drag our mother 
 out there too ! " 
 
 " Mother seems willing to go." 
 
 "Yes, she is old, and easily persuaded." 
 
 "Does Bella know it? Have you told her ? " 
 
 " Know it ! Told her ! Do you think I would cut the 
 strings to my own net, and set my bird a-flying ? " 
 
 Mrs. Boynton s proud face contracted in meditation. She 
 spoke again slowly. " It is a hard blow to give a young 
 girl, especially one of Bella s temperament." 
 
 " It is harder for you and I to see our father s property 
 go to Mortimer Beale," Mr. Forresst replied ; "and 1 desire 
 your assistance without more words." He spoke with un 
 flinching hauteur. " To-morrow morning send your car 
 riage for mother. Tell her that you think it too hard for 
 her to be there in the midst of all Bella s packing. Bring 
 her to your house."
 
 82 BELLA ; 
 
 Mrs. Boynton, in her luxurious home, lay awake that 
 night, thinking. But Mr. Forresst did not lie awake. 
 " Thanks to the good laws of Massachusetts, I have found 
 an effectual way," he said to himself. " She will not get 
 out of that berth till she promises better fashions." And 
 then the brother fell asleep. 
 
 The next morning, when Mrs. Boynton went for her 
 mother, the old lady said, " What ! Go away and leave 
 Bella with all this work on her hands ? " 
 
 "Never mind the work, mother. We will hire a woman 
 to help Bella." 
 
 And Bella said, " Yes, mother. Go with Eunice. Let 
 me have a strong work-woman. I shall do nicely." 
 
 Mrs. Forresst yielded ; and at half-past nine she went 
 away in Mrs. Boynton s carriage. At eleven another car 
 riage came to the house. Two men leaped from it, and 
 went up to the door. They jerked the bell like men in a 
 hurry, and like men unaccustomed to ceremony. Bella was 
 in a chamber, A morning robe of print, and a large apron 
 tied around, was her apparel. The room was in the dis 
 order incident to packing ; and in the centre stood an open, 
 partially-filled trunk. She heard the door open, and 
 heard the men inquire for Bella Forresst. She rushed to 
 the stair-railing, and looked down into the hall. She saw 
 the brass buttons and burly forms of two policemen. She 
 stepped back, lest they should see her ; and surprise kept 
 her silent. Bridget came up the stairs. 
 
 "An sure, Miss Bella, an what can they want o ye ? " 
 
 " I do not know. I cannot go down. Go back and ask 
 them what they want." 
 
 Bridget went back; but their reply was, "If she cannot 
 come down, we will go up." 
 
 " What can it mean ? " thought Bella ; and she drew 
 back into the chamber with the natural retirement of it
 
 OB, THE CRADLE OF LIBERTY. 83 
 
 women en deshabille. She had scarcely thrown the apron 
 from her when the men were in the room. 
 
 "This is Miss Forresst, I suppose," said he in front. 
 
 "Yes, sir." She looked up at him with a frightened ex 
 pression ; and a strange trembling seized her. 
 
 " And this is your trunk, I suppose," he continued, look 
 ing at the open trunk with its draperies lying within. 
 
 Again she murmured, "Yes." She was afraid of the 
 man with his hold, forward ways. " If I was guilty of any 
 wrong, I should think he was after me," was her flashing 
 thought. In a moment more she understood the scene. 
 The man said, " I suppose our errand is not very pleasing 
 to you, Miss Forresst. We have come to take you to the 
 asylum." 
 
 "The what?" 
 
 " The insane asylum, Miss Forresst. I suppose you have 
 heard your committal read." 
 
 " Committal ? I have heard nothing. What do you 
 mean ? " 
 
 " Your brother should have read it to you twelve hours 
 ago ; but, if he has failed in his duty, we must not fail in 
 ours. If you wish to lay any more articles into that trunk, 
 we will wait a minute. If not, we may as well lock it 
 now." 
 
 Bella was stupefied with astonishment and horror. 
 These men were directing her, and assuming full power 
 over her movements. She soon found that the officers of 
 law dispose of their subjects in a very cool manner. See 
 ing that she did not move, the forward man locked the 
 trunk, and put the key in his pocket. Then he turned to 
 Bridget, who was watching, terrified, at the door. 
 
 " Get Miss Forresst a bonnet." 
 
 " An what may ye be goin to do with Miss Bella ? " 
 
 " Oh ! we are not going to harm her. But make haste : 
 the train will soon be leaving."
 
 84 BELLA ; 
 
 Bridget feared the men even more than her mistress. 
 She hastened for a hat, and took out also a sack and a 
 pair of gloves. These she brought to her young mistress, 
 saying, "Whativer it be, Miss -Bella, niver ye fear. The 
 Huly Virgin will protict ye ; an I ll say rue prayers for ye 
 day and night." 
 
 But to Bella every thing was dark. She stood attired, a 
 victim of law, we were about to say. But it was not so. 
 She was a victim of law dishonored, and of statutes made 
 null by fraud. One of the men took her trunk ; the other 
 took her arm. They passed down the stairs, and out at the 
 door. They put her into the carriage, and drove away. 
 Bridget was left alone. They drove to the railway-station. 
 Bella sat like one stupefied. The two men lifted her out 
 by the two arms. She stood between them on the platform, 
 one on either side. People stared at her. Women drew 
 their garments one side. Men looked her over, and formed 
 their own conclusions. She felt, rather than saw, these 
 stares ; and every eye around her seemed as a dagger pier 
 cing her soul. She would never forget these looks. She 
 could never forget them, nor forget the cold chills that ran 
 through her system while she stood between those men. 
 Henceforward she would know how it seemed to be in the 
 grasp of law officers. She entered the cars under, a battery 
 of eyes : she rode under the consciousness of people watch 
 ing her ; and when she reached her destination, and stepped 
 out on the platform, she still felt people looking strangely 
 at her. 
 
 The two escorts led her to a carriage that was waiting. 
 They put her in : one entered with her ; the other mounted 
 the box. It was the asylum-carriage, highly polished, and 
 drawn by a span of sleek horses, expensively harnessed. In 
 this carriage Bella was carried away to the big building. 
 She was transferred from the carriage to the care of the in-
 
 OR, THE CRADLE OF LIBERTY. 85 
 
 stltution, where she was taken out, and placed within the 
 great asyjura doors. Then the policemen went away, and 
 she was left " within the bars." She felt as if a blow had 
 been struck in her face, and her life was destroyed. Stran 
 gers were about her ; and they, too, stared. These were 
 not the rude stares of curiosity, but the professional stares 
 of the asylum. She was not looked at now, but was 
 looked through and through, till she longed to escape 
 into some corner where she could lie down and weep 
 unseen : it seemed that the cords of her heart were snap 
 ping. 
 
 This professional scrutiny of the "new patient" went 
 against her. She was pronounced "very insane." With 
 her hat, sack, and gloves, no fault could be found ; but 
 "what young lady in her senses would ride in the cars in a 
 calico wrapper?" The long ringlets were declared t& be 
 " frowzled ; " and they said there was a " wild look in her 
 eyes." These were asylum verdicts. No one asked how 
 she was taken from home, whether she had time to change 
 her dress or smooth her hair. No one thought that her 
 present situation was enough to make her look wild, nor 
 how she must suffer, a prisoner in the grip of inexorable 
 men. It was " taken for granted " that she was crazy ; and 
 for every action insanity was supposed the cause. She was 
 under the brand. 
 
 They led her up a flight of winding, uncarpeted stairs, 
 unlocked a door, led her through, and locked the door again. 
 She heard the key turn behind her; she knew that she was 
 a prisoner. Faintness struck her, and the air grew dark; 
 but she rallied, and looked about her. She saw herself in 
 a long, uncarpeted hall, up and down which women were 
 walking. They paused, and looked at her: but these were 
 not stares of rudeness ; deep pity was in their eyes. They 
 glanced at each other, and then at her ; and she heard one
 
 86 BELLA ; 
 
 of them say, "Another. Lord God! how many, how 
 many are doomed to this place ? " 
 
 Bella felt that these ladies were prisoners. She had come 
 to be one of their number. It seemed that the finest fibres 
 of her heart were snapping. Darker and darker grew the 
 air. Light disappeared. She groped to a chair, and sat 
 down. Now she was struggling under the prison-darkness, 
 the strange, unearthly sensation that rushes over all human 
 beings when first they feel the air of a prison, and locks have 
 closed upon them. Guilty or innocent, rational or irra 
 tional, or whatever be the person s condition, nothing can. 
 save them from that half-terror and half-abjectness that is 
 the peculiar feature of prison-life. It fell upon Bella with 
 wild anguish. She turned to the woman who locked her 
 in, and implored for pitj r ; but never a word did the woman 
 reply. With her it was legal, official business ; to Bella it 
 was as the knell of a life-doom. The woman regarded Bella 
 as an insane girl, sent hither by her friends, because they 
 could do nothing with her at home. She paid no attention 
 to the girl s pleadings, but went out, and locked the door 
 behind her. 
 
 Nothing could save Bella now. No human help could 
 she seek. Wishing was useless. Tears would produce no 
 effect. Smiles were powerless. She was a prisoner under 
 law, held in a stronghold, shut up under absolute power, 
 a chattel from which the institution could draw funds. Ab 
 solute submission was now her only alternative. She had 
 become the property of the institution. The officials could 
 hold her, rule her, and subject her to their wills or caprices, 
 just as men hold animals ; and there was no way for her 
 to escape. 
 
 She sat a while in her chair, palsied and terrified. Then 
 she arose and walked through the hall. Iron-sashed win 
 dows were on. every gide., and heavy doors with locks. Sad
 
 OE, THE CRADLE OF LIBERTY. 87 
 
 women sat around, and their eyes turned to hers with pity. 
 In one small room there sat a young lady trimming a hat. 
 She looked bright and joyous, a contrast to her surround 
 ings. Bella went to her, saying, " Cannot I go out of 
 here ? Is that door always locked ? " The girl looked up 
 coolly, as attendants learn to look. " No, you cannot go. 
 The door is always locked. Where did you come from ? " 
 
 " From Boston," said Bella, and turned away, with sick 
 ness at her heart. She went to a corner, and dropped into 
 a chair. An old lady came to her softly, and said, " Don t 
 feel so bad, my dear. It is no worse for you than the rest 
 of us. I, too, am a prisoner." 
 
 Bella looked in the old face, and recoiled. It was a face 
 on which suffering had written deep lines, not of active 
 misery, but of rust and solitude, stamping it with an inde 
 finable disagreeableness from which the fresh young girl 
 shrank. 
 
 " There, there," said the old lady, " I won t trouble you. 
 I ll go away. You don t know what to make of such a poor 
 old thing. God grant they may not keep you here till you, 
 too, are such as I am ! " 
 
 Bella shuddered, but did not speak. She saw other ladies 
 looking at her, fresh, bright-looking ladies ; and she asked 
 herself, " Are they really insane persons ? They would 
 grace a drawing-room." 
 
 Presently the girl who had been hat-trimming came and 
 motioned to her. She arose and followed. The stranger 
 girl led her diagonally across the hall, and into a small side- 
 room. She told her that this was to be her room ; that she 
 might lay off her things here, and that she " must make 
 herself at home." 
 
 " Home ! home ! " It was the first time the word ever 
 grated on Bella s ears. " Home, in this place ? The very 
 name is desecrated by such a use. Tis home where er the 
 heart is ; and my heart "
 
 88 BELLA ; 
 
 She could not finish the sentence, but sat down, speech 
 less, in the only chair the room afforded, and rested her 
 head on the sill of the window. And what a window ! The 
 sash was painted ; but there was the cold, hard look of tho 
 iron of which it was made. She put her hand on it : it felt 
 cold. The attending girl went out and left her! At the 
 tea-hour they brought her a cup of tea and one small biscuit. 
 She ate it, and then leaned back and pressed her fingers 
 over her eyes. Tears trickled through between them ; and 
 she wiped them away with a handkerchief that she drew 
 from her wrapper-pocket. A man passed her door. He 
 paused and looked in, but did not speak. She felt annoyed, 
 and arose to shut the door : it would not stay closed. It 
 was a coarse, heavy door ; and she examined the fastening. 
 There was neither knob nor latch. There was a lock, with 
 a place for a key, on the outside ; but inside there was no 
 way to fasten the door together. She could neither shut it 
 against intruders, nor have any other control over it. She 
 sat down again, distressed. The day was waning. Shad 
 ows were gathering. New voices were heard in the hall. 
 The assistant physician was taking an official tour. He 
 paused before Bella, and looked her over. She was his 
 " new patient." He must make a medical examination. 
 
 " My dear," he said, " had you no better dress in which 
 to ride here ? This is not a suitable travelling-costume." 
 
 Bella s cheeks crimsoned, and her eyes flashed. Indig 
 nation superseded her distress. She felt that this man must 
 know, or ought to inquire into, the circumstances in which 
 she had been taken from home, and her situation otherwise. 
 She thought of the rough treatment through which she had 
 passed, and answered this smooth-tongued stranger scorn 
 fully, " Is it any of your business what I ride in ? " 
 
 The physician smiled with a peculiar meaning. "Nev 
 er mind, dear. We hope to see you in a better frame
 
 OR, THE CRADLE OF LIBERTY. 89 
 
 of mind, by and by." He whispered to the attendant, 
 " Very bad ! " He passed along ; and she was alone again. 
 Evening was fairly set in. There was a light in the hall ; 
 but in her room there was no light, save what gleamed 
 through her half-open door. Was she to sit there in dark 
 ness ? Nay, more. Was she to stay there all night ? 
 Was she to sleep on that narrow bunk, and within that 
 cell-like room ? She gave her room a careful scrutiny. 
 It was about twelve feet long, and ten in width. In it 
 there was a narrow iron bedstead, dressed with a mattress, 
 and with one pillow in the middle at the head. The walls 
 of the room were covered with coarse paper ; and it had 
 that dingy, -unwholesome look that comes from closeness 
 long continued, like dust stifled. 
 
 There was a bureau, or something they called a bu 
 reau, opposite the bed; and over this bureau hung a 
 seven-by-nine pane of glass, called by courtesy a mirror. 
 There was also a washstand in one corner, very much 
 dilapidated, and looking as if generations had used it. 
 Besides these, there was the old chair in which she was 
 sitting, and a cotton curtain at the window. The floor 
 was of a dark, ancient yellow, carpetless, save a strip 
 before the bed. 
 
 " And here I am to stay to-night," said the girl to her 
 self. " How much longer ? Who knows ? " 
 
 Suddenly a woman, bearing a tray of glasses, appeared 
 in the doorway. In each glass there was a decoction of 
 some sort. The woman placed the tray on the small 
 bureau ; and, taking up a glass, handed it to Bella. 
 
 " What is that for ? " asked Bella in amazement. 
 
 " It is medicine for you to drink." 
 
 "Medicine! Why should I take medicine ? I am not ill." 
 
 " You are to take this, however. The doctor prepared it 
 for you." 
 
 8*
 
 90 BELLA ; 
 
 "Doctor ! No doctor has examined me. I should advise 
 him to see whether I am ill before he prescribes." 
 
 "Come," said the woman peremptorily, "I can t stop to 
 parley. Take it ! " 
 
 But the idea of taking strange medicine without proper 
 medical prescription was horrible to Bella s mind. She 
 had been taught that great care was necessary in adminis 
 tering medicines ; and she answered decidedly, " I will 
 not take it. No doctor has spoken to me, except one who 
 asked me about my dress ; and that was all he said to 
 me. I will not take medicine without proper prescrip 
 tions." 
 
 The woman stepped forward, holding the glass firmly in 
 one hand. With the other she seized Bella by the head ; 
 and, giving her a twist that made her defenceless, she held 
 the glass to her lips. 
 
 " Drink it ! " 
 
 And Bella swallowed it, she scarce knew how. Then 
 the woman turned, took up her tray, went out, and said to 
 the attending girl, nodding her head toward Bella s room, 
 "You have a hard subject in there. Keep firm." 
 
 And still Bella sat there. The potion was doing its 
 work. Stupid sleepiness came over her. She felt it 
 through her frame; and, rousing herself, said, "I may as 
 well go to bed. What is there to sit up for ? " 
 
 Then she thought of her trunk. Where was it ? She 
 remembered that in the bottom of it she had laid some 
 fine underclothing. She must have a nightdress. She 
 called the attending girl, and said, " Where is my 
 trunk ? " 
 
 "Down in the marking-room, I suppose." 
 
 " I should like it. Will you ask some one to bring it 
 up ? " 
 
 " You can t have it to-night. Your things have not 
 been examined."
 
 OR, THE CRADLE OF LIBERTY. 91 
 
 " Examined ! What do you mean ? " 
 
 " Why, your clothes must be looked over, and marked." 
 
 "Will they take out my clothes, and handle them 
 over ? " 
 
 "They are obliged to. That is the rule." 
 
 Bella sighed with a strange helplessness. She was com 
 pletely in the power of these strangers. 
 
 " What shall I do for a nightdress ? " she asked. 
 
 " I don t know." The attendant said this curtly, and 
 left the room. Bella retired that night literally without 
 one accustomed comfort. She disrobed in darkness, put a 
 skirt over her shoulders, and lay down on the hard, nar 
 row bed. She heard the sounds of voices and steps, the 
 women going to their solitary rooms, and the attendant 
 scolding, driving, or coaxing, as the case might be. Then 
 came another sound, a clicking, harsh sound; and she 
 listened wonderingly. It was the click of the locks, as, 
 one after another, the attendant put her key in them, and 
 fastened the women s doors. So intense was Bella s in 
 terest, that the effect of her potion was in a measure 
 counteracted by her quickening sensations. She raised 
 her head, and was trying to look into the hall, when her 
 doorway was darkened by a shadow ; and a girl with a key 
 looked in. Bella dropped back into the bed; and the giii 
 stopped into the room. " It is time you were asleep," she 
 said. " Let there be no noise in your room to-night." 
 Then the girl turned, put the key in the lock, and drew the 
 door together. It snapped ; and Bella was a prisoner in her 
 cell. She sat up in her bed, and thought, " Wherein am I 
 different from a prisoner in a state prison ? Here I am, 
 double-locked from all the world, lying in a room that is 
 close as a felon s cell. God have mercy on me, and forgive 
 those who have done this thing ! " 
 
 She slept a while, but awoke in the night in the middle
 
 92 BELLA ; 
 
 of the darkness, and thought of her situation, her mother, 
 Mortimer, and this sad trouble that had met her in her life- 
 path. She heard the night winds moan around the angles 
 of the large building ; and they seemed to her like sighings 
 of the departed. There were other sounds, cry ings and 
 groanings, as of people in distress. She heard them in dif 
 ferent directions ; and the sounds added to the desolation 
 that oppressed her. Then but hark ! There was a cry 
 near her, a sobbing as of deep distress. It was in the cell 
 adjoining hers. Some woman s heart was breaking there 
 all alone. There were words mingled with the sobs, 
 words that seemed to be of prayer ; for the tones were those 
 of supplication. How Bella longed to get to the sufferer, 
 that she might console her! 
 
 Soon footsteps were heard coining through the hall. A 
 light shone through the aperture over Bella s door ; and she 
 thought some one was going to the relief of the sufferer. 
 But, no: the footsteps kept on, died awa} , and were heard 
 no more. They were the steps of the night-watch, going 
 the rounds with a lantern. The night-watch heard these 
 sobs ; but what of that ? It was " only a patient " weep 
 ing. In that expression, "only a patient," there lies a 
 deep meaning. When persons are committed to these 
 institutions, they become "patients." They lose their 
 human privileges, and are treated as if void of natural 
 affections. They are supposed to have no loves, nor hopes, 
 nor desires ; yet, when their friends come to visit them, 
 they are required to show every symptom of natural joy, 
 with not one particle of indignation at their unnatural 
 treatment. They are told to consider their situation as 
 one of God s providences, and that against his will it is a 
 sin to murmur. 
 
 Bella had not yet learned the train of asylum argument. 
 To her these cries of her neighbor were the cries of
 
 OR, THE CRADLE OF LIBERTY. 93 
 
 pain and anguish going up there to God alone ; and they 
 seemed to her to need human sympathy. The next morn 
 ing she ventured into the hall, and looked wistfully among 
 the ladies, hoping to find the night weeper : but all were 
 strangers ; and it was not till many days after, that she 
 learned which of these prisoners this was. There are no 
 introductions in asylum halls. Ladies, accustomed to 
 civilized proprieties and the forms of etiquette, are taken 
 from their homes and from society without time to say 
 farewell : they are carried and landed within asylums 
 without ceremony ; and with broken hearts, without an 
 nouncement or introduction, they make acquaintance as 
 they can. Bella was not exempt from the general rule. 
 She felt unutterably sad, but spoke to no one. For a 
 time none of the ladies spoke to her. They looked at her, 
 and deep in their souls they pitied her; for well they 
 knew the anguish through which she was passing. They, 
 who had themselves passed through this sorrow knew how 
 to feel for her; and they whispered of her among them 
 selves, 
 
 "So young! So beautiful! What a shame to shut 
 her in here ! What do our people mean by banishing so 
 many good and beautiful to these prison-houses ? " 
 
 Bella did not hear these remarks ; but she was conscious 
 of sympathetic glances, and felt that among these ladies 
 there was kindly love waiting for her. She saw that the 
 ladies were well-dressed and refined; and it seemed to her 
 like sin to keep them in this confinement* With a few 
 exceptions, she saw no indications of aberration of mind ; 
 but she saw ladies of education and refinement living there 
 in a prison existence of loneliness and heart desolation. 
 
 One morning, as she sat in her only chair, after breakfast, 
 two of the ladies walked slowly to her door and looked in. 
 One of tkem had a proudly set head, beautiful blue eyes,
 
 94 BELLA ; 
 
 and an oval forehead, above which lay braided bands of 
 glossy auburn hair. She wore a dress of green and white 
 silk, flowing in a train behind; and buckled slippers were 
 peeping out from beneath the ruffled skirt. 
 
 Leaning upon the arm of this woman was another. She 
 had large lustrous eyes, looking out from beneath eye-brows 
 of jet. She was tall; and her form was enveloped in a 
 cashmere robe, over which floated a soft, fleecy scarf of 
 white. The two ladies introduced each other. The blue- 
 eyed lady was Mrs. Long ; the luminous, black-eyed woman 
 
 was the wife of a wealthy gentleman in the suburbs of -. 
 
 The husband of Mrs. Long was a lawyer of rising fame, 
 " very smart," she said, smiling curiously as she spoke, 
 " smart enough to get me in here." 
 
 " Excuse me," said the luminous-eyed lady ; " but it does 
 not require much smartness to do that in these days, when 
 nearly every doctor is a backer to these institutions." 
 
 As she said this, lines of fine thought passed over her 
 face ; and Bella was reminded of heroines of whom she had 
 read in history ; and it seemed to her that some imprisoned 
 princess stood before her. They opened their hearts there 
 together. They revealed to each other the under-currents 
 of their lives, and felt a chord of electric sympathy in 
 trouble, a chord that is ever vibrating through asylum- 
 halls, and which is the chief, and almost only solace of the 
 inmates in their troubles. 
 
 Between the officers or employes of these establishments 
 and their patients there is very little sympathy. Coercion 
 and force on one side, and absolute submission on the other, 
 are like oil and water : they may be shaken together, but 
 have no affinity. The officers and employes of asylums 
 hold reins of sovereign power over their imprisoned people; 
 and the people under them live in a state of absolute subjec 
 tion. There are men and women, by the scores and hun-
 
 OR, THE CRADLE OF LIBERTY. 95 
 
 dreds, nay, by the thousands, now in these locked buildings, 
 who have lived under these hard rules till the lines of sor 
 row and discipline on their faces are as graven lines that 
 can never be erased. They have lived as close prisoners, 
 subject to the tempers of different rulers, seeing others go 
 in and out till their lives seem as a miserable stupefaction, 
 a torpor of anguish, out of which they can never come ; and 
 the years of their misery may be counted by the furrows of 
 anguish on their countenances. It made Bella s heart ache 
 to see these prisoners of years, ihey looked so sad and 
 weary. There was one in this hall, a silver-haired woman, 
 who wore a soft lace cap, trimmed with lavender, on whose 
 face patience had stamped the indelible marks of these 
 long, solitary years. When Bella was told that this old lady 
 had been a patient twenty-seven years, she was shocked, 
 and could scarcely credit her own ears. She went to the 
 woman. 
 
 " Is it true, Mrs. Spears, that you have been twenty- 
 seven years an inmate of an insane asylum ? " 
 
 " It is quite true, my dear." 
 
 " I cannot realize it," Bella answered thoughtfully. 
 " Before I was born, when I was born, and all the time 
 since, you have been a prisoner! I am sure I did not 
 know that here, in our free country, people could be held in 
 prison, unless they had committed crimes ! " 
 
 " You know little of the world as yet, my dear young 
 lady." 
 
 " But it seems, Mrs. Spears, that such a life would be 
 hardly worth the having." 
 
 " I have often thought that," the old lady responded, 
 looking tearfully at Bella. "But, life being once given us, 
 we must bear it, with whatever comes in its train. It has 
 been the will of my heavenly Father that I should live this 
 solitary life of hopelessness ; and who am I that I should 
 gainsay his will ? "
 
 96 BELLA ; 
 
 " Is it the will of God, or the will of man ? " asked 
 Bella. 
 
 The old lady recoiled. " Oh ! my dear young lady, do not 
 speak blasphemously. All things are of God s will." 
 
 " Then, why do we try to get rid of the wrongs, and 
 uproot evil ? " asked Bella. " If wrong is from God s will, 
 let it stand ; but if it is from man, who sets up to know 
 more than God, let us tear it down, and put right in its 
 place." 
 
 " Well," said the old lady meekly, "you, who are young, 
 may see to these deep matters. I am verging to eternity. 
 I have suffered ; and my days are almost numbered. I pray 
 for a spirit to forgive those who have kept these bonds over 
 me; but it pains me more than tongue can tell when I 
 see young girls, like you, brought into these halls." 
 
 "Christian prisoner," was Bella s thought. "Could I 
 ever so submit and forgive ? " 
 
 " Go to your room, Mrs. Spears ! " commanded a pert 
 young girl, drawing near. And the old lady went, meekly 
 walking across the hall that might almost be channelled by 
 her feet that had trodden it so long as a patient. She went 
 to her room, and sat down to her Bible, the only solace she 
 possessed ; aud Bella, too, went to her room. The tones of 
 that pert command were still ringing in her ears ; and she 
 longed to reprove that young attendant for such rough 
 speech. 
 
 Sabbath came, in its own due time, and the patients 
 were notified to prepare for chapel. The attendants went 
 around, ordering some to go, and commanding others not 
 to go, as their piques and fancies dictated. Bella was told 
 to " Go ! " Her trunk, after three days waiting, and after 
 all the articles had been handled under pretext for marking, 
 had at last come to her ; and, with a soul full of pain, she 
 selected from it a dress. When the chapel-bell rang, she
 
 OR, THE CRADLE OF LIBERTY. 97 
 
 was ready. Bands of women began to come out from the 
 different halls and centre towards the chapel. Sad, dejected 
 faces passed by Bella as she stood waiting her turn. The 
 patients from each hall were under the escort of separate 
 attendants, and walked in files, as ordered. Some were 
 well-dressed, and some were clad in a cheapness inexpressi 
 ble. Some were intelligent in countenance, and some were 
 quite the reverse. Some were fresh in skin and complexion, 
 and evidently were fresh from the world. Others wore the 
 unmistakable marks of long duress, and sufferings borne in 
 solitude. 
 
 The women from Bella s hall fell into the ranks, and, 
 walking in a line, descended the stairs when they were 
 bidden. In the central hall the women were gathered, 
 waiting the passage of men, who were coming in file from 
 their apartments. A shadow fell over Bella s soul as she 
 saw these men. They followed each other in regular tramp, 
 each division under its keeper. Some of the faces were 
 demented, but many of them were bright and intelligent ; 
 and some equalled, in every respect, the superintendent, 
 who stood in the centre of the aisle, watching the defile as 
 it passed along. To Bella the scene seemed like the pass 
 ing of mortals to eternity. She was very sad ; and as she 
 entered the chapel, guarded as she was, and realized how 
 these were all imprisoned, like herself, she could scarce 
 restrain her tears. Trouble seemed all about her, trouble, 
 trouble, everywhere. She could not enjoy the service. It 
 was but mockery to her. She could not worship a free 
 God while she was thus bound. Her soul cried, " Let me 
 go. Let me go, my Father, that I may worship thee in 
 peace." But for her there was no release. She must be 
 remanded back to her cell, back to her prison and solitude. 
 And all these who had come out to worship must go back, 
 back to their solitude, heartsickness, and despair. 
 J
 
 98 BELLA ; 
 
 Bella wept that sabbath night : she could not help it. 
 She wept for herself in bondage, and she wept for others 
 whom she saw suffering about her. Alas ! she was not the 
 only one who wept in that building. Hers was not the only 
 anguished heart that was crushing beneath the strictures 
 of those laws. There were tears in every corridor, there 
 was mourning in every hall. 
 
 The next morning Bella met the matron as she was 
 crossing the hall. The matron said, " Good-morning, Miss 
 Forresst. How do you do this morning ? " 
 
 " Do ? " said Bella meditatively : " how can any one do 
 here ? Mrs. Matron, this is a house of tears." 
 
 " Oh, well, never mind ! You do not shed tears." 
 
 " I shall, or go mad, if I stay here," was Bella s response, 
 as she turned quickly from the woman who spoke with so 
 little feeling. " She ought to weep herself," was the thought 
 of the girl : " she ought to weep for the suffering she sees 
 about her." 
 
 But the matron was a strong woman : she saw no cause 
 for tears. Day by day she walked among these anguished 
 women, and never felt one throb of pity.
 
 OB, THE CRADLE OF LIBERTY. 99 
 
 CHAPTER XL 
 
 jjELLA took her first lessons in asylum latter-writing 
 in this wise : the matron was passing through the 
 hall, when a young girl went to her with a letter 
 in her hand. 
 
 " Will you please read my letter, and see if it 
 will do to send ? " the girl asked in a soft, winning voice. 
 
 The matron paused, and took the letter : she opened it. 
 and glanced it through ; then she returned it to the writer. 
 " No, I cannot send this letter : it is very improperly writ 
 ten ; it has the word prison three times, and you say you 
 want to go home." 
 
 " Why is it improper to say prison ? I am in prison 
 Why is it wrong to say I want to go home ? It would be 
 wrong if I did not want to go home." 
 
 " Oh ! you do not understand, my child. This is not 
 a prison : this is a place where you come to get well." 
 
 " But it is a prison," the girl replied, with tears starting 
 into her eyes. " I am all shut up : locks, keys, bars, and 
 watchful eyes are all about me. I cannot go out unless a 
 guard goes with me. What is it but a prison ? " 
 
 " You are excited," said the matron : " you had better 
 go to your room." 
 
 " Why shouldn t I be excited ? I have been here three 
 years. I am worn out with this life." 
 
 " Oh, well ! You shall go away just as soon as the doc 
 tor considers you well enough."
 
 100 BELLA ; 
 
 " When will he call me well ? I think three years is 
 long enough to be under one doctor or one system of medi 
 cal treatment." 
 
 "But you mustn t tell what you think : the doctors 
 know better than you." 
 
 " I know enough to know that three years is a very long 
 time to endure this life," the girl replied. " If I write 
 another letter, and leave out the word prison, will you send 
 it?" 
 
 "I will read it, and see. Go to your room now, and 
 don t make us any more trouble. Can t you see that it 
 is very unpleasant for us to be teased all the time ? " 
 
 "I should like to know who we can ask, if not you," 
 said the girl. " We are locked in here with no earthly 
 privilege, and no one whom we can ask for the least favor 
 except you, who are hired to take care of us ; and if you 
 will not " 
 
 " Hush ! " commanded the matron. " Go to your room, 
 and let there be no more complaining." 
 
 The helpless girl went back to her room. "I shall 
 never go home," she said to herself. " I shall never go 
 out of here. They mean to keep me : they know I have 
 no father and mother; and they can make my uncle be 
 lieve whatever they tell him. But I will write again. 
 My uncle told me to write, and to tell him all my feelings. 
 I will try once more." 
 
 Bella watched this scene with absorbing interest. It 
 threw a new light upon her own situation. She said to 
 herself, " What ! cannot these patients write without being 
 watched ? Cannot I write and say what I please ? How 
 then shall I get out of here ? I want to tell Edward and 
 Mortimer. I want to write. I must write." 
 
 She watched eagerly for the denouement : it came the 
 next day. Again the matron was passing through the halL
 
 OR, THE CRADLE OF LIBERTY. 101 
 
 Again the girl went to her, and laid an open letter in her 
 hand. Neither prison, nor synonym for prison, was in this 
 letter. The matron glanced it through; and the girl watched 
 her countenance. The woman s face was not the index of 
 the most favorahle feelings. Looking at the girl, she said, 
 " But you still say you want to go home." 
 
 " Because I do want to go," the girl said. And indeed 
 she did want to go. A letter without the expression of that 
 sentiment would not have seemed half a letter to her ; and 
 she would have heen no happier for sending it. " Well," 
 said the matron, " I will take it," and left the hall with the 
 letter in her hand. 
 
 Long the patient waited for an answer to that letter. 
 Her heart sank with hope deferred, and vain conjectures as 
 to why her uncle did not write. Could she have seen the 
 reason, could she have known why he failed to reply, her 
 heart would have gone yet lower ; for she would have seen 
 that her letter went - the way of the waste-basket. Her 
 uncle never received it. Instead of it, he received ^an offi 
 cial asylum-letter, in which was an account of his niece, 
 such as it pleased the officers to write. And the old man 
 said, " I am sorry for my niece. I did hope she would get 
 well ; but, if she cannot, why, I suppose that is the best 
 place for her." Then he remitted the sum demanded for 
 her board ; and she is there now. 
 
 Absolute power produces different effects upon different 
 individuals. It changes some persons into tyrants ; and, 
 as the rule of prison officers over their subjects is absolute, 
 it follows that prison keepers are affected by having this 
 absolute sway. Some rule with moderation ; some are 
 calm, some passionate ; some are cold, hard, fiendish. 
 Whatever emotions affect the prison-keepers are vented on 
 the prisoners. Are the keepers weary, disappointed, or 
 unhappy ? Down upon their hapless victims fall the wreak- 
 9*
 
 102 BELLA ; 
 
 ings of their souls ; and there is no way for the victims to 
 escape. Locks, keys, and grates are all about them. A 
 lamb may be locked up under a lion ; and in all this broad 
 land not one person can look within to see or pity. Alas ! 
 God save prisoners ! There are more crimes committed 
 against them than ever they committed. 
 
 We speak of asylums as prisons when they have prison- 
 locks and prison-rules, in distinction from open hospitals 
 and houses. 
 
 When the nights came on in this place, when Evening 
 drew her sacred mantle down, and Nature called for rest, 
 Bella went into her cell, for the patient s rooms in 
 asylums can be called by no other name than cells ; and 
 there she sought the rest that would not come, for sadness 
 and tears crowded it away. She lay awake, and watched 
 the night-sky through her bars. She thought of the pos 
 sibility of escape. Could she crowd through her iron- 
 barred windows, tie her sheets together, let herself down 
 by them, and so escape ? She thought of heroes and hero 
 ines, and of the devices by which they had disappeared 
 from dungeons and towers. She thought of their daring 
 feats and bold escapades. She recalled the tales of queens 
 which she had read, and wondrous sufferers like Marie 
 Antoinette and Baron Trenck. Then she thought of the 
 long list of persons imprisoned and persecuted for right 
 eousness sake; and she sighed, "Oh, man s inhumanity to 
 man ! Through countless ages, how cruel it has been ! 
 Yet God ever shineth the same, even as the sun shines. 
 He sees all this wickedness. He sees it in our fair Ameri 
 ca, where I myself am suffering, and where thousands of 
 my countrymen and women are sharing in like bondage." 
 
 Sometimes she wrenched at the sash of her window, as 
 though she would force it to give way. She might as well 
 have moved an iron mount. Then she tried to sleep; but,
 
 OR, THE CRADLE OP LIBERTY. 103 
 
 if she could compose her own soul, the moans, the sobs, 
 the tears, the wails, the groans, and shrieks about the build 
 ing broke the stillness of the night air, and kept her 
 awake by sympathy. 
 
 Sympathy ! Are insane patients capable of sympathy ? 
 Ah ! What would they do without it ? Bella found it her 
 chief outward support. Sympathy for each other is not 
 denied to patients, except when they are overheard to 
 criticise the management of the place. The moment that 
 attendants suspect their patients are speaking of the asylum 
 or hall discipline in terms of censure, the cry rings out, 
 " To your rooms, to your rooms ! Every one of you to 
 your rooms ! " 
 
 Then every patient becomes a solitary prisoner. Silence, 
 utter, drear, and crushing, is their portion. Whatever 
 their needs, they dare not speak. Free speech is a forbid 
 den liberty within these sovereign kingdoms. 
 
 Bella often asked herself, " If I were already crazed, 
 would not this life make me worse ? " 
 
 She saw and heard acts of harshness even in this the 
 best hall ; and she was conscious of greater cruelties in the 
 halls adjoining. She saw people brought every day and 
 left, sometimes under circumstances even more distressing 
 than her own ; and many of these people had not her 
 health and strength to endure it. 
 
 "I thought," she said to one of the ladies, "that this 
 was a land of liberty, of happiness, and of equality. I am 
 sure none of these qualities are in this asylum system. 
 By these asylum practices, people are snatched from 
 their homes as ruthlessly as though barbarians ruled us ; 
 and we are held in bondage as abject as tyranny can 
 invent. And how people suffer by such treatment ! " 
 
 An old lady, who had been a patient many years, inter 
 posed, " My dear miss, you must be careful. Such license 
 of speech is not permitted here."
 
 104 BELLA ; 
 
 11 How ? Will they prevent my talking ? They may 
 try, but can they succeed ? " 
 
 " They will, indeed, if you talk against the institution." 
 
 "I think I have a right to express my thoughts, wher 
 ever I am ; and I cannot help speaking, when I see such a 
 scene as that which just passed hefore us." 
 
 What was this scene ? It was the arrival of Mrs. 
 Merrill. > 
 
 Mrs. James Merrill was a small, pale, delicate young 
 woman. She came to visit the asylum with her husband, 
 as she supposed. She had not one idea that her physician 
 had directed and advised her husband to take this course. 
 She had three darling little children, from whom she had 
 never been separated scarcely for a day. When her hus 
 band told her that the doctor thought a ride would be 
 beneficial to her, her first impulse was to provide for the 
 comfort of these little ones during her brief absence. She 
 set apart tid-bit dainties for them, made sure that every 
 thing was comfortable about them, and gave the nurse 
 repeated charges concerning them. Then she kissed them, 
 and went. The day was fine ; and she enjoyed the trip in 
 the cars. Her husband proposed that they should stop 
 
 at , and dine. She was happy to do so, and thought 
 
 she never enjoyed a dinner so much. The freshness of 
 the food, and the change from her home diet, seemed 
 to give her recuperative powers ; and, when her husband 
 proposed that they walk about and see the place, she 
 gladly accepted the offer, and went with her arm in 
 his. They walked a while, he purposely going towards the 
 asylum; and, when they came within view of it, she said, 
 " What a large building ! What is it ? " "It is an insane 
 asylum," he answered. " Let us go in and visit it." 
 " Can we ? " she asked innocently. " Yes. We can be 
 admitted at any time."
 
 OR, THE CRADLE OF LIBERTY. 105 
 
 All unconscious of what was in store for her, she walked 
 in. They were received politely : no word nor hint was 
 given that could undeceive the doomed woman. They 
 walked through the halls till they reached the one designed 
 to he hers. She stood looking in pity upon the inmates, 
 and thinking that she should go crazy if she had to live 
 there. Seeing that she was absorbed, the official motioned 
 to the husband; and the two slipped out together. She 
 stood alone : presently she looked around. " Where is my 
 husband ? " she asked in surprise. " He is gone." 
 " Gone ! I didn t see him go." Supposing he had gone 
 only for a moment, she turned her attention again to the 
 scenes about her. Time passed, and still she was alone. She 
 grew anxious, looked often in the direction of the door, and 
 finally went to it : it was locked. Turning to the attendant, 
 she said, " Will you please open this door for me ? " "I 
 cannot." " Cannot ? why ? " " I am not allowed to." 
 " Not allowed to ! What do you mean ? " " Why, I am 
 not allowed to let patients go out ! " " But I am not a 
 patient." " Yes, you are to stay a while." " No, I only 
 came in as a visitor." "But your husband has gone, and 
 left you ? " " Gone, and left me ? It is impossible." " No, 
 it is not impossible ; it is quite true." " I do not believe 
 it," the little woman said earnestly. "My husband would 
 not do such a thing by me." " But he has." " I do not 
 believe it: he is somewhere down stairs. Please let me go 
 and find him." " No, I cannot." The voice of the attend 
 ant was decided. She turned from the woman, and walked 
 away. Mrs. Merrill was to go through what others had 
 passed, the struggle of resignation, the strife of passing 
 from life to the grave of imprisonment. The attendant 
 left her to meet this struggle alone ; and it seemed to Mrs. 
 Merrill that she was alone. It seemed that her very senses 
 would leave her. One wild despair surged up within her.
 
 106 BELLA ; 
 
 She trembled as an aspen leaf. The walls seemed like 
 blocks of adamant around a tomb of darkness, in which she 
 was left. " I will not stay here," she said : " you have no 
 right to keep me." Then she stationed herself by the door ; 
 and, whenever a key was inserted, she sprang forward to 
 pass through, but was pushed back, and held back till the 
 door was locked again. An hour or two passed away ; then 
 the attendant said, " I cannot bear this ; send the super 
 visor to me." The supervisor came, and then the little 
 woman found how truly she was in their power. They took 
 off her bonnet, gloves, and shawl. Seeing, then, that she 
 had a gold watch and chain, they took those also. Then 
 they disengaged her brooch, and drew from her finger a 
 ring set with diamonds. She had no power to resist these 
 acts. Three strong girls were holding her. " Are you 
 robbers ? " she asked. " What kind of people are you ? 
 What do you mean ? " No one answered these questions. 
 The servants went away and left her; the patients, though 
 feeling their hearts leap to their mouths in anguish, dared 
 not utter a word. Mrs. Merrill, thus disrobed, went about 
 to the windows, and felt of their iron bars. " I will break 
 the glass," she said. " I will get out of here. I will go 
 home. I will go to my children." Then the attendant 
 sent out again. This time a man came in. 
 
 Then it was that they took the sweet little lady, and put 
 upon her one of their stfong canvas jackets, and bound 
 her down like a vile felon ; and there they held her till 
 she shook like a reed : and still they held her, " to take the 
 craziness out of her," they said. " I am sure it will put 
 craziness into her," thought Bella : "it almost puts insanity 
 into me to see her. Is this the way they hold people here? 
 Do our laws permit such things ? Oh, I wish that people 
 could see it ! Surely they would not permit it." 
 
 And Mrs. Long said, " Another ! How many, oh, how
 
 OK, THE CRADLE OF LIBERTY. 107 
 
 many are to be immolated here ? " Mrs. Josleyn added, 
 " Put thy faith in Christ, suffering sister ! " 
 
 Mrs. Spears, who had seen these deeds for twenty-seven 
 years, arose, and walked the hall. "Am I to see these jack 
 ets till death puts me where I can see no more of earth ? 
 
 Father ! strengthen me to bear ! " Then Marion, the 
 attendant, raised her voice : " Silence ! silence, every one ! 
 
 1 am going to my room : let me not hear another word." 
 Then all sounds hushed; and every woman held her 
 
 bated breath. The attendant went to her room. She had 
 a dress there in process of making : her asylum wages had 
 bought it; it was a silk, with trimmings deep and rare. 
 She folded it about her, admired its lustrous waves, and 
 cared nothing for her patients. And they sat in their 
 solitary rooms, afraid to speak one little word. Say, medi 
 cal men, wherein does this course benefit injured minds ? 
 And why do you allow laws by which virtuous, innocent 
 ladies can be held beneath such rules ? 
 
 When a few days had passed, and Mrs. Merrill, weary 
 with her first struggling, had broken down into quiet, the 
 superintendent came into the hall and sat down. He lodked 
 around, talked awhile, and then, turning to the lady, he 
 said, " Mrs. Merrill, what is the matter with you ?" 
 
 The abruptness of the question startled her. It startled 
 the other ladies also : they were not used to hear the super 
 intendent speak in this manner. Evidently he had forgot 
 ten his environments, and for once was speaking his natural 
 mind. Mrs. Merrill answered by asking another question. 
 
 " In what respect do you mean, doctor ? " 
 
 " I mean before you came here. What did you do ? I 
 have watched you narrowly, and I see no appearance of 
 insanity. I believe your husband lied about you ; didn t 
 he?" 
 
 "I do not know, sir; because I do not know what he told 
 you."
 
 108 BELLA ; 
 
 " True, true : you do not know." 
 
 Here the face of the man clouded into thought. He 
 seemed to be recalling what this lady s husband had told 
 him, and to consider. Then he repeated one of his Questions. 
 
 What did you do ? " 
 
 "I know of nothing in particular, sir. But," she 
 blushed as she added, " I suppose I was cross sometimes. 
 I had my little children, and my family cares; and I was 
 often very tired, and cross perhaps." 
 
 The superintendent s face expressed a sense of incre 
 dulity as he responded, "Well, if people are to be shut into 
 asylums for crossness, large numbers would soon find 
 themselves inside. I am not sure but I should get shut in 
 myself sometimes." 
 
 He went out then, like a man who has said more than 
 he meant to ; and the ladies looked at each other with 
 meaning smiles. Then Mrs. Merrill said, " I am sure I 
 thought the doctor called me insane, because of what I said, 
 and the way I was treated, the day I came in here." 
 
 Bella said, " I thought so too. Why did he have you 
 jacketed, if you are not insane ? " 
 
 " I said I would break the glass, to go out, and go home 
 to my children, you know." 
 
 Afterwards Bella overheard the superintendent say to the 
 assistant physician, " Any true, warm-hearted mother might 
 have said the same under similar circumstances. I do not 
 approve of these deceptions in bringing people here. I do 
 not like to have people brought to my asylum in such harsh 
 ways. It is enough of itself to make them crazy. I do not 
 think Mrs. Merrill is insane." 
 
 Bella thought, " Why, then, does he not publish his 
 views ? Why does he let the outside world remain in igno 
 rance of these inside scenes ? Why does he not tell people 
 that they must not deceive these sufferers ? "
 
 OR, THE CRADLE OF LIBERTY. 109 
 
 This question may well be repeated and echoed around. 
 Why do they not publish the reports of the sufferings caused 
 by this system of insane treatment, as well as its benefits ? 
 Why do superintendents report the cures, of which they 
 freely boast, and leave unreported the hundreds who are 
 brought into their halls to undergo the horrors of the prison- 
 feeling, and whose broken minds sink into greater derange 
 ment under coercive discipline ? Let the public require 
 that lunatic asylums report the sufferings in their corridors, 
 as well as the fair outside shows, that families who have loved 
 members in these institutions may have some chance to 
 know the real and true conditions of their locked -up 
 friends. 
 
 The" refrains of " home," running through the halls, are 
 endless and various as the people who utter them. They 
 are borne through the corridors in basso and soprano, in 
 chorus, and in monotones of deepest woe. To Bella, as to 
 others, the place became as a bed of thorns, from which 
 there was no escape. " If Mortimer only could know, if 
 Edward could know, if my mother knew how I suffer 
 here, I am sure they would help me out. I will write, 
 and tell them where Frederic has put me. I cannot stay 
 here ; I will not stay here." 
 
 She thought she would not write as the other patients 
 did, giving their letters to the matron, or to a supervisor ; 
 but she would ask the doctor himself to mail her letter. She 
 watched her opportunity; and, when the superintendent en 
 tered her hall, she went to him. "Doctor, if I write a 
 letter, and seal it, will you send it ? " 
 
 He paused before her. " Yes, Miss Forresst, I will send 
 it for you. I have no wish to read your letters. This rule 
 is only for those who are not competent to write." 
 
 " Thanks, doctor," said the girl, as smiles deepened on 
 her cheeks. She went to her room. Happiness stole into 
 10
 
 110 BELLA ; 
 
 her heart. "I am so glad I asked him," she thought. 
 " How much better it is to go to him direct ! " 
 
 She wrote then to Edward, and with her own hands put 
 the letter into the superintendent s hand. He smiled upon 
 her with gracious kindness ; and she saw in his smiles an 
 augury of freedom. She counted the days she would most 
 likely have to wait for return letters, and nerved herself to 
 bear them. That night her sleep was sweet ; and the next 
 morning the hospital hash slipped down almost without a 
 thought of its coarse qualities. 
 
 She had not a nature that could become absorbed in her 
 own sorrows, unmindful of others ; and she became deeply 
 interested in the women who were her fellow-prisoners. 
 She watched the coming and going of their friends, searched 
 into the causes of these unnatural incarcerations, and in 
 quired, "W7iy are such things tolerated?" She found the 
 causes as various as the people. Some were imprisoned 
 because they were invalids, and their friends didn t feel like 
 being troubled with them ; some because they were wealthy, 
 and their guardians and relatives could thus keep their for 
 tunes for themselves, while the rightful owners lived hidden ; 
 some were there from poverty, their friends calling them 
 insane, and throwing them on to the State : but by far the 
 larger part were people whose friends were true and sincere, 
 and brought their dear ones here by advice of physicians. 
 Families work and plan to save money to pay for their in 
 valid friends in these halls ; and the sick people stay in 
 them under privations that might make them ill, even if 
 carried into them in perfect health. Outside doctors, too 
 ignorant to cure their patients, banish them to these popu 
 lar houses, and thus relieve themselves, and hide their own 
 stupidity ; inside doctors pocket the money and the honors. 
 
 The lives of asylum patients are full of aggravations and 
 disagreeable scenes. Bella, like others, found. them hard
 
 OR, THE CKADLE OF LIBERTY. Ill 
 
 to bear. One of these trials was in the passing and re-pass 
 ing of visitors. People go through asylums as through a 
 solemn show, walking with heads straight forward, but 
 casting their eyes to the right and left mysteriously, as 
 though there was some unearthly inyster} - in the place and 
 people there. 
 
 " I suppose visitors think we are wild animals," said a 
 lady to Bella. 
 
 " I turn away from them," Bella answered. " I cannot 
 bear that they should see my face." 
 
 " Just so do I," responded a third. And this is what 
 thousands do, and what thousands will continue to do, if 
 the system continues to exist. Patients cannot bear to be 
 living as in the cages of a menagerie, the objects of public 
 curiosity. Mrs. Whitney says, "A man might be a little 
 crazy even, and get over it, if he never had it to think that 
 other people knew or mistrusted." 
 
 This is true of immense numbers of our modern insane 
 people. Their insanity is often a mere nervous derange 
 ment, or a temporary illness, resting on a cause which ad 
 mits of cure, like other diseases. Home-kindness, supported 
 and guided by the discretion of good home physicians, would 
 be far more sensible and successful than crowding people 
 into halls under strictures that drive thousands into chronic 
 misery, and hold them then as public shows. People 
 never recover fully from the shocks their sensibilities receive 
 in the transportations to asylums, and the treatment they 
 see and receive while there. They feel that an ignominy 
 is attached to them. It ought not so to be. There is no 
 disgrace in insanity. It is a disease more likely to fall upon 
 high-toned minds than upon those of rude construction. 
 Therefore in cultivated communities, where mind is brought 
 out in all possible tension, people are more likely to become 
 insane, and are only saved from this and other diseases by
 
 112 BELLA ; 
 
 care that their physical developments and health shall keep 
 pace with the mental. For this reason we have more insane 
 persons in the more intelligent portions of our country. 
 Where the climate is a test to strength, and the cultivation 
 of bodily health receives less attention than education of 
 the mind, we must expect diseases of all kinds. The most 
 delicate, refined, and sensitive people fall first. Are we to 
 go on building asylums, or endowing the present ones, and 
 continue to confine our people as outcast lepers, shut apart ? 
 Common sense, humanity, and God forbid ! 
 
 Life in cells is a midnight life. It is the opponent of 
 light, and the opposite of nature. It feeds souls on dark 
 ness. There is neither life nor strength to be gained in its 
 existence. 
 
 But asylum advocates will ask, How, then, do people get 
 well in asylums ? , 
 
 The answer may be given in the words of an asylum 
 physician, who, by virtue of his office, should be good 
 authorit}^. A lady, who had been a week or two under 
 this treatment, was looking about to discover what was to 
 cure her. She said to the physician, " Doctor, do you cure 
 people here ?" 
 
 " They get well here," was the reply. 
 
 " What cures them ? " 
 
 " Oh ! time and nature." 
 
 This answer was the text for many after-thoughts. 
 When the lady had been there longer, she saw, herself, that 
 those who were cured were indeed restored by these two 
 agents : those whom these agents alone could not cure 
 went down, and became patients for life. The lady said, 
 "If time and nature, working against all these antago 
 nisms, can effect cures, what could they not accomplish out 
 side, if judicious help were given themj for time is as
 
 OR, THE CRADLE OF LIBERTY. 113 
 
 long outside as in, and nature is scarce found within these 
 walls ? " 
 
 " To know what patients suffer, we must live as patients 
 live." 
 
 This was what Jessonica said to Bella, as they sat side 
 by side in a chapel sociable. They were strangers, from 
 different States. They were patients in different halls, and 
 had not met until now, as they chanced to be seated to 
 gether, and felt touched by a mutual sympathy. 
 
 Bella replied, "I have passed through vicissitudes; but 
 the convent and the Shakers were paradise compared to 
 this place ; and the teacher of the idiot s school was a queen, 
 for she had a heart. I wish I could find a heart among 
 the overseers of this place." 
 
 " They think they have hearts," Jessonica replied. 
 " They talk about Christian kindness and benevolence, and 
 doing good." 
 
 " I know," said Bella, " that it is wrong and hard to judge ; 
 but, to me, their hearts seem like those of fat oxen, who, 
 feeding and dwelling in rich pastures themselves, have 
 no thought for the sufferings of others." 
 
 Jessonica lifted her dove-like eyes to Bella s flashing 
 face, and softly said, " You are right, Miss Forresst." 
 
 And, though such judgment may seem bitter, we, too, are 
 compelled to say, Miss Forresst is right. Observation and 
 experience of life in these halls compel us to believe that 
 the nature of the system tends to take humanity out of the 
 hearts of those who rule within. 
 
 Often the nurses, keepers, servants, attendants, and phy 
 sicians even, are totally incapable of measuring or com 
 prehending the mental requirements of their patients ; yet 
 they rule them with absolute power; and there is no pos 
 sible way for the patients to escape. 
 10*
 
 114 BELLA ; 
 
 The question is not, and must not be, Are these people 
 insane ? Are they crazy ? but, Is this the way to cure 
 them? Will this "treatment" restore them to mental 
 health, or will it take away what mind they have left, and 
 tend to make them more insane ?
 
 OB, THE CRADLE OF LIBERTY. 115 
 
 CHAPTER XII. 
 
 is a general impression in society that asy 
 lum doctors possess some peculiar power over minds 
 diseased, and that the patients are under the doctors. 
 The truth is, that asylum doctors are like other 
 physicians : they use the same medical works, 
 have passed through the same course of study, and practise 
 on the same theories. The only difference is, that they 
 work within the circumference of locks and keys, claiming 
 legal statutes as supports. Some of them may be more in 
 telligent and humane than others ; and therefore some asy 
 lums may be better governed than others : but the under 
 lying-principles of all locked asylums are the same. 
 
 The physicians of asylums can be but very little with 
 their patients. Among five or six hundred persons, the 
 doctors can take but cursory glances at each one. The 
 common, daily life of the patients falls under the attend- 
 dants of the halls. And who are the attendants? They 
 are persons who come for hire, to earn money. They 
 are hired nurses, or hired servants, as you please to call 
 them. They come from everywhere, from rural districts 
 where money is scarce, and from service where wages were 
 too low for them. They are mostly young, have a com 
 mon-school education, and no more. They have no ac 
 curate knowledge of the human system, its wants or re 
 quirements, or of insanity, scientifically considered. They 
 have a general idea that crazy people are to be kept shut up,
 
 116 BELLA ; 
 
 and managed somehow, it matters little how. Keys are 
 put into their hands : they are told to keep the doors 
 locked; and they do it. Power over the patients is given 
 them ; and they use it according to their natures and tem 
 peraments. They earn their money, and spend it for dress, 
 or go home and get married with it ; while a fresh set come, 
 to rule the patients, and go through the same routine as 
 their predecessors. Under these ignorant comers and goers 
 the patients live. 
 
 Men, under great mental sufferings, have been known to 
 grow gray in a single night. When prisoners they grow 
 gray by continual disciplinary anguish. The constant go 
 ing out of hopes, the dying of ambitions, the sundering of 
 all former ties, the gradual extinction of all outward wishes, 
 and the constant submission to the personal power of the 
 keepers, give to prisoners a peculiar misery, found under 
 no other circumstances. All these prison miseries are 
 found in asylums. The lives of patients are lives of ab 
 solute bondage, in which bondage they see no avenue of 
 hope nor path to liberty, not even by serving a term of 
 years as criminals in durance. With this life-imprison 
 ment staring them in the face, is it strange that they grow 
 haggard, wild, or imbecile ? 
 
 Patients are commonly told that they shall stay a few 
 weeks, and then are held for years, till life becomes one 
 prolonged suspense and agony, in which they are fitted for 
 neither earth nor heaven. Is it supposed that they are 
 not sensible of their situations ? We answer, they are 
 most acutely sensible of their sufferings, and, being ill in 
 mind, are less able to rise above these depressing asylum 
 influences than if in health. 
 
 And this system is assigned by our physicians as a cure 
 for broken nerves and demented wits. Shade of Esculapiuf 
 save us !
 
 OR, THE CRADLE OF LIBERTY. 117 
 
 Living every day amid these scenes, seeing suffering con 
 stantly around her, Bella grew dispirited, and looked more 
 and more earnestly for replies to her letters. Encouraged 
 by the superintendent s gracious smiles, and trusting his 
 apparent candor, she had written several letters ; and the 
 superintendent took them himself. But time passed, and 
 no replies came. She grew disheartened. " What does it 
 mean ? Have Edward and Mortimer forgotten me ? Or 
 do they think I am crazy, and so will not write?" 
 
 This last was a horrible idea, and it wore upon her. She 
 grew listless and pale. The ladies said," You are not well, 
 Miss Forresst." 
 
 " If I could only have some letters, even one," she re 
 plied. " But my friends seem to have deserted me : they 
 have ceased to care for me." 
 
 Confidentially, stealthily, some of the ladies said, " Prob-> 
 ably your letters do not go." 
 
 " Not go ? " she exclaimed. " Why, the doctor himself 
 took them, and told me he would send them unread ! " 
 
 " And you believed him ? " 
 
 Why shouldn t I ? " 
 
 " My dear young lady," said one of the women, " when 
 you have been here longer, and have become versed in the 
 strategies of the place, you will learn that one of the com 
 mandments has a qualification. It is written, Thou shalt 
 not lie, except to insane patients. You see, therefore, 
 that the doctor did not sin. Falsehoods to us are justifi 
 able." 
 
 " It is a terrible place," Bella said solemnly. " A system 
 that depends on falsehood, and sanctions it, must be shaky 
 somewhere, and should be destroyed." 
 
 " I would to God it might shake to the ground," re 
 marked a woman near. 
 
 " Amen ! " said another.
 
 118 BELLA ; 
 
 " Go to your rooms ! " shouted Marion. She had been 
 attracted b}^ the voices, and had come near enough to hear. 
 
 They separated, and went to their solitary cells ; but, 
 though free speech was denied, thoughts were, irrepressible. 
 
 " I am on my own native soil, surrounded by the air of 
 my own Massachusetts," mused Bella as she paced back 
 and forth in her solitude; "yet I am a prisoner, held by 
 bonds, and forbidden either to write or speak of my situa 
 tion ! By what right does any one thus hold me ? By 
 what right do our States permit laws that can be used 
 for such base purposes ? " 
 
 She looked through her iron-barred window, and it 
 seemed that the air was not that of America. "My 
 country s air has no smouldering taint of prison belonging 
 to it," she said. 
 
 Now the time became more tedious. She had lost faith 
 in the superintendent. He passed her often, and bowed 
 with smiles ; but she saw hollowness in the smiles, and 
 they seemed as veneering, put on for show. She began to 
 look for some other way to send a letter. Her soul was 
 sick with her situation. It seemed to her that there must 
 be some way by which to transmit truthful intelligence of 
 herself. Then she ceased hiding her face from visitors, 
 and began searching their countenances, to find one whom 
 she dared ask to take one little missive from her hand. 
 But they all looked solemn, and were closely under the 
 escort of the officials ; and she had no courage to ask them. 
 Indeed, her courage and faith began to fail. She went 
 privately to Mrs. Long. 
 
 "Do tell me, Mrs. Long," she said, "is there no way to 
 get a truthful letter out of this institution ? " 
 
 The lady patient looked up quickly. Her blue eyes 
 dilated, and her oval forehead seemed to rise in thought. 
 "Miss Forresst," she said, "I should as soon think of
 
 OR, THE CRADLE OP LIBERTY. 119 
 
 running a gauntlet of trained watchmen as to send a letter 
 from here unless every word pleased the officials." 
 
 " But what shall I do ? " asked Bella in tones of distress. 
 "How can I stay here in this dead way, with no communi 
 cation with the outer world, or knowledge of my friends ? 
 It will make me crazy." 
 
 Mrs. Long thought a moment. Then she said, "My 
 husband is coming to see me in a few days. If you will 
 write, and have your letter ready, I will ask him to take it." 
 
 "Thanks, Mrs. Long, thanks. I cannot express my 
 gratitude. You have raised me from despair." 
 
 Then once more she wrote ; and, because she felt that 
 the other letters had not gone, she recapitulated what she 
 had written before, and explained her circumstances in 
 full. She put the letter in an envelope, addressed it, and 
 waited. Mrs. Long was not certain what day her husband 
 would come. 
 
 Well, people get used to waiting, if they are patients in 
 asylums. They are always waiting for this, or for that, or 
 some other thing. Everybody and every thing must 
 be attended to before " patients." If other people are to 
 wait for any thing, they find it easier to know it ; but 
 patients are seldom told. They are moved from room to 
 room, taken out and put in, and otherwise managed, 
 without one note of warning. 
 
 And these two imprisoned women waited, the one for 
 her husband, the other for the man who would help her 
 seek relief from those who loved her in the outer world. 
 
 At last Mr. Long came. A fine-looking man he was, 
 with black hair clustering over his head, and black eyes 
 glancing sharply at whatever he met. Very fond of his 
 blue-eyed wife he appeared to be ; but he was a man of 
 legal statutes. He believed in law as laid down by govern 
 ment. Break a statute law ? No. The laws of mercy he
 
 120 BELLA ; 
 
 might break, but not statutes of men. Before he left, his 
 wife asked him to take out Miss Forresst s letter. 
 
 "What!" lie exclaimed, "shall I come in here and 
 violate the rules of the institution ? Shall I bring you 
 here to be cured, and then break the rules of the place ? " 
 
 " They are very unjust rules," the lady pleaded. " You 
 do not realize how hard it is, nor how much we have to 
 bear, shut in here without privileges of any kind." 
 
 " But there is a medical necessity, my dear." 
 
 " There is a medical absurdity, you mean," she replied. 
 " If you should stay here as a patient, as I do, you would 
 see this system in a very different light. You would see 
 that it is worse than absurdity : it is wickedness, especi 
 ally when people are sane, like Miss Forresst." 
 
 " Who is this Miss Forresst ? " 
 
 " She is the girl whose letter I want you to take out." 
 
 " Yes ; but who is she ? Where does she belong ? " 
 
 "She is sister to Mrs. Boynton, and to Mr. Frederic 
 Forresst." 
 
 " Frederic Forresst ! Why, he is one of our finest men ! 
 If he has put his sister in here, he had good cause. No, 
 pet : we will keep clear of other people s business. It is 
 enough for us to take care of ourselves." 
 
 Earnestly the lady pleaded, but without avail. The 
 lawyer was decided. He had chosen his side, and it was 
 the side of power. She gave up pleading at last, and 
 asked when she was to go home, adding, " I cannot see 
 the least good they do me here." 
 
 The lawj er put on a look of ponderous gravity, and 
 softly stroked the hair of his fair wife, saying, "Perhaps 
 you are not the best judge, my dear. The doctor tells me 
 you are doing very well." 
 
 " Doing very well, am I ? That is an old stereotyped 
 phrase that the doctor keeps on hand to use on the friends
 
 OR, THE CKADLE OF LIBERTY. 121 
 
 of the patients when he sees fit. You stopped in the 
 office, and he spread it on to you." 
 
 " But are you not doing well my dear?" 
 
 " I am trying to keep patient, and endure this life till 
 you take me out. Do let it be soon, please. I shall get 
 better in time, whether I am here or away. You must 
 let me recover slowly. You did not bring me here to 
 remain a prisoner forever, did you ? " 
 
 " Certainly not. How can you think so ? I shall take 
 you away as soon as you are better." 
 
 "0 my husband ! don t wait till these doctors say I am 
 better. I see a great deal of deception here ; and it is for 
 their interest to keep me. You pay them as much as 
 twenty dollars a week, I suppose." 
 
 " Oh, tut, pet ! The money is of no account, if they can 
 cure you. 
 
 She talked longer, pleaded and argued; but Mr. Long 
 had, as she thought, been in the office before he came up 
 to his wife. He was there fortified against all she could 
 say. He was a good customer, paying his twenty dollars 
 a week, that his wife might have extras ; while she- was 
 taking such as she could get. Such a customer was worth 
 keeping; and they had, as Mrs. Long said, "spread their 
 story well" for him in the office. He went away in the 
 full confidence that they were right, and she was wrong. 
 She kept by his side till he reached the main hall door. 
 Marion followed with the keys. The door was unlocked : 
 he put his foot on the threshold. She clung to him, 
 wept, begged, pleaded. " Do let me go ! my husband ! 
 do let me go with you ! I cannot stay here without you. 
 This life will wear me out ! " Then she kissed him, and 
 hung upon his shoulder. He was touched, for he loved 
 his wife ; and the arguments of the asylum office were fading 
 from his mind, when there appeared a supervisor. Super- 
 11
 
 122 BELLA ; 
 
 visors are a middle class of officials, between the physicians 
 and attendants, and are most efficient helpers to the 
 asylum. They are generally ready for any thing, and can 
 strap the patients, starve them, or lock them up, with equal 
 ease. This supervisor, a tall, strong woman, saw the situa 
 tion at a glance. She stepped into the doorway, and put 
 her hand upon Mrs. Long s hand, saying, " Come, you are 
 behaving very queerly. If you do so, your husband will 
 never think you fit to go. You should use reason, and 
 show him that you are better, instead of worse." 
 
 Mrs. Long raised her face, and said, " Do you know what 
 it is to part from the love of your life ? Did you ever 
 love?" 
 
 The question was unfortunate, since the supervisor was 
 a maiden of uncertain age. She took the patient by the 
 arm ; and, though the action was not apparent, she gave it 
 a grip that sent the blood curdling through Mrs. Long s 
 veins, and pushed her back into Marion s hands. Then, 
 with a dexterous movement, she drew Mr. Long through the 
 doorway, and turned the key. There was one loud cry 
 within ; then all was still. Mr. Long paused to listen ; but 
 the supervisor hurried him along, and keys held the im 
 prisoned woman. 
 
 " She will be right again in a moment," the supervisor 
 said, with oily tongue. " It is not uncommon for patients 
 to make trouble when their friends go away ; but they soon 
 get over it. I am sorry you should be incommoded, sir." 
 
 She took Mr. Long down stairs ; and he went into the 
 office again. There he was again assured that she would 
 soon be " all right ; " that such manifestations were not 
 uncommon in patients, and that it might be as well for him 
 not to come again very soon. " Give her time to recuper 
 ate," said the bland superintendent. "Seeing you and her 
 friends excites her, and puts her back. These cases are 
 very hard, sir : life is full of troubles."
 
 OR, THE CRADLE OF LIBERTY. 123 
 
 Mr. Long is a good lawyer; but he was "taken in " that 
 time by a doctor. He went home. She went into her cell, 
 the walls of which seemed like fortress- walls, hiding her 
 from hope forever. She fell on her knees, and cried, " If an 
 enemy had done this, I could bear it ; but to think that the 
 doctors turn my own husband against me is too much, 
 too much !" She had a fit that night. The asylum gave 
 her fit a medical name ; but those who had themselves borne 
 the tension of just such shocks knew that she had an 
 " asylum fit " or " prison fit," whichever we call it. The 
 terms are identical. 
 
 Only the rational, strong-nerved, and healthy can bear 
 such fearful isolation. The weak-nerved, the delicate, the 
 broken-minded, the insane, should never be required to pass 
 through such trials. 
 
 Bella did not speak of her letter that night. She could 
 not mention her own troubles, she was so affected by seeing 
 the condition of the woman she had learned to love. They 
 took Mrs. Long back to her room ; and Marion scolded her 
 for causing so much trouble. For a long time Mrs. 
 Long sat and wept. Her arm ached, and her heart 
 ached. She felt that she had been unkindly treated, that 
 her husband believed the asylum representations, and that 
 there was little chance for her to get release. After a 
 time she drew up her sleeve, and looked at her arm : it was 
 blue-black and swollen. She felt indignant and insulted. 
 She went out into the hall, and walked rapidly up and 
 down. It seemed that she must do something to allay the 
 agitation of her mind. Bella came into the hall, and joined 
 her. They walked arm in arm, talking of their troubles. 
 Just then the supervisor came in again ; and her instincts told 
 her that they were talking of her. She approached Mrs. 
 Long, and began, "Ain t you ashamed, making such a piece 
 of work when your husband went away ? I shouldn t think 
 he d ever want you, such an acting person as you are."
 
 124 BELLA ; 
 
 " Hush ! " said Mrs. Long resolutely. " I want you t^ 
 see what you did to my arm ; " and she began pulling up 
 her sleeve. The arm was swollen, and the sleeve of a deli 
 cate fabric. It tore a little. " That will do," said the 
 supervisor. "You needn t go to tearing your clothes in 
 your craziness. Marion, lock this woman into her room. I 
 will help you." 
 
 They took hold of her, and led her away into her room : 
 they locked her door, and left her there. " If she causes 
 you any trouble, Marion, let me know ; and I will bring a 
 jacket." These were the last words of the supervisor as 
 she locked the door and went out. 
 
 Nothing more was heard from Mrs. Long that night : no 
 sound came from her room. The next morning, when the 
 attendant unlocked the door, Mrs. Long was lying on the 
 floor, stiff and cold. It required all the arts of the physi 
 cians to restore her. They said she had a paralytic shock. 
 We, who have escaped asylum fits only by the strength of 
 our natures, know that she had a prison or asylum fit. 
 
 When Bella learned that her letter had not gone, she was 
 grieved. " Everybody favors the institution, and presses 
 us," she thought. " Is there no way out of this place ? " 
 
 She was in the bath-room ; and Sarah Tollman, a patient 
 of several years, was there with her. Sarah said, " I will 
 mail your letter, Miss Forresst." 
 
 " You ! How can you ? " 
 
 " I will drop it in the street-box the next time we walk 
 out. Such things have been done here ; and I can do it." 
 
 " But Miss Smiley has Argus eyes. She puts us all in 
 front of her, and watches every motion." 
 
 " I know it ; but I have been here a great many years. 
 I have learned all their ways. I am very submissive ; and 
 I can take privileges. If you will engross her in conversa 
 tion, and take her attention, I will fall behind, and get the 
 letter into a box."
 
 OR, THE CRADLE OF LIBERTY. 125 
 
 Hope came again to Bella; and she readily agreed to 
 this plan. 
 
 The next morning the walking attendant came in, and 
 made the announcement, " This hall goes to walk." Then 
 Marion went around, and selected such as might go ; and 
 Bella and Miss Tollman were of the number. They well 
 remembered their agreement, and went out with little nods 
 to each other. The procession was arranged, and moved 
 on. Bella stationed herself beside Miss Smiley, and began 
 talking as joyously as though a world of happiness was all 
 her own. No one noticed Miss Tollman s tardy move 
 ments, nor how she fell back ; nor was she noticed when 
 she finally fell behind Miss Smiley herself. Bella did not 
 look around; but she felt that the plan would be a success. 
 They neared a corner, and Bella s heart beat ; but she only 
 talked the faster, and kept Miss Smiley interested. They 
 turned the corner; and Miss Tollman glided softly towards 
 the box. Was it her shadow, or what was it that drew the 
 attention of a woman in front ? Why must there be a 
 traitor in every company? One would have supposed that 
 Julia Warren had suffered enough in that institution to 
 lead her to help one of her fellow-prisoners ; but she it was 
 who turned her head, and raised the warning scream. " 
 
 Miss Smiley sprang, and pounced upon Miss Tollman. 
 " What are you doing ? Give me that letter ! " and she 
 grasped the small hand of Miss Tollman. 
 
 But the patient was firm, and held the letter in a tight 
 grip. The attendant succeeded only in getting a glimpse 
 of the address, " Forresst," she said. " Ah, yes ! I un 
 derstand why Miss Forresst was so fond of my company. 
 You have a conspiracy. We will go back to the asylum." 
 
 She turned the company then, and headed them towards 
 the asylum. She hurried them back, and let them into the 
 hall. Then she went to make her report. 
 11*
 
 126 BELLA ; 
 
 There had been several recent attempts to smuggle out 
 letters. Two or three of these had succeeded ; and a patient 
 had just been taken away by her friends, in consequence. 
 The authorities felt tender ; and this new attempt increased 
 their irritation. There must be a stop to these secret mail 
 ings. The face of the assistant physician clouded. 
 
 Then these words went ringing through the halls, 
 " Whoever is caught mailing a letter contrary to our rules 
 shall be jacketed and strapped!" 
 
 Who, in free life, can understand the quiet terror that 
 followed this announcement ? No person who has always 
 been free can judge of a patient s feelings, nor realize how 
 the mandates of such a place fall crushingly upon the help 
 less people within. The world knows nothing of the unut 
 terable and inexpressible throes of those who are held 
 beneath these bonds. It is no wonder that they wail, and 
 that their hearts cry out in anguish. It is no wonder that 
 they call for friends and freedom and home. " Home ! " 
 " Home !" How often is the name heard in those galleries 
 and halls! " Shall I never go home?" "Shall I never, 
 never again be free ? " " Must I always stay in these 
 halls ? " " Am I never again to live with those I love ? " 
 " Have I no friend to take me from this place ? " " Doc 
 tor, when shall I go home?" "Doctor, I am homesick. 
 I am tired of this life." " Doctor, I want to see my hus 
 band." " Doctor, write for me. I want to see my chil 
 dren." " Do let me go out of here. Oh, do let me go 
 out ! " " What right has any one to keep me here ? God 
 never gave any one a right to keep me here in prison. 
 Neither father nor mother, wife nor child, has any right to 
 imprison me thus." " These asylums are blots on civiliza 
 tion, dark spots in the midst of light." " I shall go out 
 of here ; God will take me out ; but I do not know what 
 chastisements will first come upon our country." Then
 
 OR, THE CRADLE OF LIBERTY. 127 
 
 chiming in are foreign accents. "Och ! Let me go home to 
 me childers. Home, home ! " says the Irish woman. 
 
 Such are the cries constantly running through asylum 
 halls, at least in the women s departments. How is it 
 with the men ? 
 
 There are other waits, deeper, darker expressions. 
 The pen refuses to trace them. The public would refuse to 
 read them. Yet that same public puts its most delicate 
 people into the midst of these discordant sounds, where 
 they must listen day and night to fearful words. Mis 
 taken public ! Who shall enlighten thy great mind ?
 
 128 BELLA j 
 
 CHAPTER XIII. 
 
 OKN1NG- dawned. It was morning in the asylum. 
 But what is morning there? 
 Click, click, click. 
 
 Did you ever hear it, reader ? It is the sound 
 of the key, as it goes from door to door. 
 
 Click, click, click, click, click ! 
 
 Every morning, when the East is flooded with her beau 
 tiful light, the patients hear that sound. Every night, 
 ere slumber comes to lave their brows, the pent-up people 
 hear that sound. From door to door the attendants go. 
 When they turn, the ladies and gentlemen may leave their 
 cells ; and, when they turn, the ladies and gentlemen may 
 go in again. This system is for the cure of broken 
 minds ! 
 
 " To live in this way is enough to make one crazy," says 
 a patient. 
 
 " Hush ! " cry the medical faculty. " This is the way we 
 have appointed for your cure." 
 
 wise medical faculty ! The remedy is worse than 
 the disease. 
 
 But the keys had turned. The morning had opened. 
 The asylum bell, hung up a-top in the belfry, had struck 
 its early ding-dong. " Up, up, sleepers! or else we ll 
 make you get up ! " That is what the bell says, and that 
 is what the keys say. 
 
 Some are already up, and are pacing their cells when the
 
 OR, THE CRADLE OF LIBERTY. 129 
 
 keys turn. They are glad of the dawn, and start from 
 their narrow beds at its earliest peep ; and yet they gain 
 nothing hy rising but change of posture. The same 
 blank, dreary walls greet them ; the same barred windows 
 shut out the light; the same groans and sighs are their 
 morning music. Early risers in asylums do not get up 
 because the morning is a pleasure, but because the bed is a 
 place of agony. 
 
 As we said, the morning had dawned. Its hours rolled 
 heavily away. The asylum breakfast had received asylum 
 attention. Bella had folded the spread around the foot of 
 her iron bedstead, and had pinned it in the most approved 
 hospital style. Learning to fold the bedspread in hospi 
 tal style is among the first lessons for recuperating minds. 
 Bella had thoroughly learned the art ; and her spread was 
 pinned square to the inch this morning. She stood 
 beside her barred window, and her attitude was that of de 
 jection. She was looking out upon the free air, and was 
 considering the possibility of getting a letter mailed to 
 Edward. She was sure that Edward had not heard where 
 she was. " He would take me out, if he knew my situa 
 tion. Yes, I know he would." Then that other thought 
 surged through her, " No. Perhaps he would not take 
 me out. Perhaps he thinks I am crazy. Perhaps they 
 have written him so. And Mortimer, if he thinks I am 
 insane, would not want me. my Father in heaven ! 
 this will drive me to madness ! Dost not thou see it? " 
 
 Standing there thus dejected, she heard the hall-door 
 click. Then there was a man s step. She did not look 
 up. She neither knew nor cared who passed through that 
 door with keys. They were but prison-guards. The steps 
 of the man came on. They paused at her door. Then she 
 looked up. 
 
 " Good-morning ! " said the man in a cool, business way.
 
 130 BELLA ; 
 
 " Good-morning !" Bella replied indiiferently. She. had 
 seen this man before, walking through the halls. She 
 knew that lie held some position on the staff of asylum 
 keepers; and that was all she knew of him, Or cared. She 
 wished no acquaintance with the asylum officials. She had 
 no sympathies with them. If she formed acquaintances 
 there, it would be with those, wlio, like herself, were suffer 
 ers. 
 
 But this man did not heed her coolness. He held in his 
 hand a folded paper. He began to unfold it, and drew 
 near to her as he did so. His manner was imperturba- 
 bly calm, and of a pure business demeanor. He addressed 
 her as though the business was desirable, and to her pure 
 advantage. 
 
 " Miss Forresst, how would you like a guardian ? " 
 
 " A guardian ! " she repeated in a tone of surprised in 
 quiry. 
 
 " Yes, a guardian over yourself and property. Your 
 brother has sent us a paper, in which he himself is ap 
 pointed in that capacity." 
 
 He laid the open document in her hand. She glanced 
 at it, but scarcely comprehended its dread import. 
 
 "A guardian!." she repeated, and tried to read tho 
 paper. There were printed words and written words, 
 technical and half-intelligible : she read enough to bring a 
 giddy feeling over her; and, with the words staring before 
 her, she put her hands to her eyes. A mist had gathered 
 on them, and a weak tremor seized her whole frame. To 
 what end was she coming? What power was this that 
 was forging and binding these fetters? Without her 
 knowledge, physicians had put their names to papers that 
 deprived her of every right; and, on the strength of this, 
 a judge had exiled her from home and freedom, and con 
 signed her to ignominy and misery. Now, when she was
 
 OR, THE CRADLE OP LIBERTY. 131 
 
 powerless, unable to get out, or appeal to any person for 
 help, another legal weight was laid upon her. 
 
 With a thrill of new anguish, she looked from the paper 
 up to the face of the man before her. She was about to 
 ask him to intercede for her; but his countenance was 
 hard and cold. He seemed to enjoy the scene, and re 
 marked, " You are fortunate to have a brother for a guar 
 dian." 
 
 "I do not think so," she responded curtly. 
 
 " Oh, yes, you are ! Many of our people are under the 
 guardianship of strangers ; and it is not so pleasant for 
 them. Strangers have less feeling." 
 
 " I do not see that anybody has feeling," she replied, 
 tossing the paper upon the narrow bed. 
 
 " No, you do not see, because the state of your mind is 
 not right just now. We hope to see you better by and 
 by." 
 
 He turned then, and went out, leaving the patient alone 
 with her guardianship paper. She might destroy it, or 
 keep it, it mattered not which : it was but a copy. The 
 original was safe. 
 
 Bella knew very little of the forms of law, or its techni 
 cal terms; but she understood that the paper lying there 
 was as a rivet, fastening her fetters tighter. There was no 
 one to whom she could apply for redress or protection 
 against this usurpation of power over her. She could not 
 get outside, to present her case to any person: she could 
 not send out a letter with the truth in it ; and inside she 
 could get no help nor pity save from those who were equally 
 powerless with herself. 
 
 Overcome by the helplessness of her position, she resolved 
 to lay her whole case before the assistant physician. Was 
 not she his patient ? Was it not his place to attend to her 
 wants and needs ? If she ought to be released, was it not
 
 132 BELLA ; 
 
 his place to know it, and to help her ? Was it right for 
 him to permit people to stay in that bondage, when he 
 knew that every day was an injury? 
 
 " It is his place to ask me, or to find out in some way 
 whether I am unjustly kept here, and whether it injures 
 me ; and he ought to be honest enough to tell me, and to 
 help me. But then, if he should do that by his patients, 
 he would soon have a thin house ; and it is not for the 
 interest of the institution to have a small number of 
 patients. However, I will try." 
 
 She did try. She told the assistant physician that she 
 wished to see him alone. 
 
 " I can give you a few moments," he replied, taking out 
 his watch ; and she was thankful for even that. He went 
 into her little room, and, closing the door, leaned against it 
 in default of a latch. Briefly, then, but truly and earnestly, 
 she related her history, and described her situation. He 
 listened ; and, when she had finished, he said, " It is a sad 
 story, and your situation is very trying ; but what can I do 
 for yoa? I am not your brother, nor relative of any kind. 
 I have no power in the case." 
 
 " You can set me free." 
 
 " I have no power for that. Your friends keep you here." 
 
 " But you are my doctor : J T OU have power to say whether 
 I am insane, and whether I ought to stay here." 
 
 " And suppose I say that you are not insane. What 
 then ? Where would you go ? What would you do ? You 
 and your property are under a guardian. You can have no 
 money without your guardian s consent. If you go back to 
 your friends, they will return you here again, or you will be 
 a homeless wanderer. Depend upon it, you are better off 
 here than anywhere else." 
 
 "I have friends who would not turn me off." 
 
 " Why do they not come to you, then ? They must know 
 where you are."
 
 OR, THE CRADLE OP LIBERTY. 133 
 
 "No, they do not know where I am. There is some 
 deception practised over them. If they could know where 
 I am, they would come and take me away." 
 
 " Why not write to them ? " 
 
 " I have written. I have given the letters into the 
 superintendent s own hands." 
 
 " And do you get no replies ? " 
 
 " Not a word. He does not send ray letters. They do 
 not go into the mail." 
 
 " Does not send them ? Then they were unsuitable. 
 
 " They were not unsuitable. They were plain, simple 
 letters, with just the statement of my situation. But how 
 should he know what was in them ? He promised me he 
 would not open them. He said he considered me competent 
 to write. You do ; don t you, doctor ? " 
 
 He might have said, " Yes, too competent for our interests : 
 you would write too much truth." But he did not. He 
 said. " Certainly ; and, if the superintendent told you he 
 would send your letters unread, he did send them. You 
 may depend upon that." 
 
 And the man, standing there and telling her that, did 
 not blush at the lie he was speaking. Why ? Because she 
 was an insane patient. He looked at his watch again. 
 
 " I must go, Miss Forresst. I hope I shall find you in a 
 happier frame of mind when I come again. Contentment 
 is one of the greatest blessings of our lot. Try and learn 
 it. Learn wherever you are, and whatsoever you have, 
 therewith to be content. The Lord will be your comforter." 
 
 He went out then ; and Bella said, " Heartless man ! yes, 
 the Lord is my comforter ; and I thank him. But he ia 
 outside of here. I do not need to stay here to find him. 
 Contentment ! yes, it is a very good quality ; but if we 
 should all sit down supinely, and say, Wheresoever we are, 
 and whatsoever we have, therewith let us be content, what 
 12
 
 134 BELLA ; 
 
 would become of the world of people ? No, I will not be 
 content in such circumstances as these. I will run away." 
 
 The thought had been in her mind before, but never so 
 definite as now. It took root, and grew into shape in her 
 mind. 
 
 It was a resolve more easily formed than executed, and 
 she knew it ; but her determination was strong, and she 
 set about watching for an opening. She made herself 
 agreeable to the servants, and tried to get into their favor. 
 She begged walks, offered to work, and tried various devices 
 to get near the outer doors. There came a chance at last. 
 She had begged her way to the laundry under the escort 
 of a servant ; and, while the servant was busy, she slipped 
 through an open door. But they were after her in a 
 moment, and brought her back in triumph. " Ho, ho ! " 
 said one, " you didn t do it, did you ? " 
 
 "You needn t try to come that dodge," said another: 
 " we shall be too much for you." 
 
 "Tried to run away! Ha, ha! ha, ha!" said a third. 
 " Tain fc so easy done, my lady." 
 
 Bella did not care for their sneers ; but for the fact that 
 she could not get away she did care, and resolved not to 
 give up her efforts for freedom. 
 
 "I will do it," she affirmed in the silence of the night; 
 and the walls of her room heard her. Those walls had 
 heard and received the wails of deeper agony than hers ; 
 but she did not see their record. Only God and the angels 
 had the key to these hidden tablets, and only they recorded 
 what was written there. 
 
 " I will leave this place." Bella said it over to herself, 
 and found comfort in the words. 
 
 She began now to plan in earnest. Every sense was on 
 the alert ; every chance was canvassed ; every avenue for 
 escape was studied. And, sooner than she anticipated, the
 
 OR, THE CRADLE OF LIBERTY. 135 
 
 chance came. Miss Smilej 7 had gathered her walking com 
 pany at the outer door, when a disturbance occurred among 
 them, and Miss Smiley stepped back to quell it. Only for 
 an instant was she out of sight ; but that instant was enough 
 for Bella s quickened purpose. Without one moment s con 
 sideration, with not one studied plan, she glided from the 
 steps and down the path. Like a bird whose feet were 
 wings she went, swift, yet quiet, flying, yet not seeming to 
 fly. One woman saw her go ; but she was no traitor. She 
 saw the girl disappear around the building s corner, and 
 deep thankfulness went through her heart. " God speed 
 thee ! " was her unspoken thought. 
 
 When Miss Smiley returned, she looked around, and 
 counted her number. " There is one gone," she said ; and 
 again she counted. " Yes, there is one gone. Who is it. 
 who ? Miss Forresst ? Yes, it is Miss Forresst. Who 
 saw her go ? Did anybody see her go ? " 
 
 3tfo answer; but all looked one upon another. One 
 woman s heart still said, " God speed thee, my sister ! God 
 speed thy flying feet ! " 
 
 Back to their cells the women were remanded: there 
 would be 1 no walking now. And they went back, secretly 
 wondering where and how Miss Forresst managed to slip 
 away ; and also secretly hoping that she would have the 
 good fortune to keep away. In less than a moment, as it 
 seemed, the officials were on the alert. One might have 
 thought a fire-alarm had sounded, so suddenly those men 
 started. And not as men who knew not what to do did 
 they start, but in trained organization. Thoroughly bred 
 to the business were the hunting-bands of this asylum. 
 The leader, the man who had given Bella her pupei* of 
 guardianship, was keen on the scent of runaway patients. 
 Small chance had they of escaping him. In the words of 
 his townsmen, he was "a smart man." He had represented
 
 136 BELLA ; 
 
 them in the State legislature, and looked quite dignified as 
 be held his head erect among the lawmakers. But now he 
 reminded one of a class of animals that scent their victims 
 tracks by instinct. The comparison is rude and barbarous, 
 perhaps ; but those who suffered by him felt that it was 
 true, and that he did indeed lower his humanity. How 
 ever just or necessary it may be for patients to leave an 
 asylum, they are pursued as relentlessly, and brought back 
 as heartlessly, as fugitives from penal imprisonment. By 
 our asylum practices, good, honorable, virtuous people hold 
 the same rank as criminals in state prisons. This man was 
 securing his property when he took escaped patients. He 
 had legal power over Bella, and could send police or other 
 persons after her, and bring her back, and then subject her 
 to whatever his caprice might dictate. He knew this, and 
 began his pursuit methodically, saying, " Which way did 
 she most likely turn ? " He answered the question himself. 
 " She must have turned the corner, and crossed the yard. 
 To the yard, men ! and branch from there every way. I 
 will take the hill." 
 
 He had selected the most difficult ground for himself, 
 feeling himself most competent. They started in swift and 
 earnest pursuit. They thought they should find her in the 
 yard ; for how could she get beyond the high picket-fence 
 in the broad daylight ? They expected to carry her in 
 amid triumphant laughter; and they rushed among the 
 bushes with mouths all ready to give the shout of discovery. 
 But they hunted in vain. All in vain they peered into 
 nooks, searched corners, and ran around the buildings. She 
 was not there. "To the street, to the street!" was now 
 the cry ; and away they went. Women were in the streets, 
 but no Miss Forresst. Nowhere was she to be seen. The 
 leader took the hill -track. It was difficult searching there. 
 The ground was broken and broad, the houses sparse ; and
 
 OR, THE CRADLE OF LIBERTY. 137 
 
 in the fields around she might be hidden anywhere. His 
 practised eyes left no crevice unsearched, no hillock un- 
 scanned, no yard unexamined. 
 
 Other men were trying other grounds. They visited the 
 railroad stations; they went up and down the streets where 
 shops were ; they traversed lanes and byways. Then the- 
 leader called his forces in. A new method was adopted. 
 The telegraph-wires were struck. Despatches were sent 
 to Frederic, and to every other place where it was likely 
 she would go ; and men were stationed at the depots to 
 watch. The police were informed; .and the leader went out 
 again, giving information, and notifying people that a pa 
 tient was gone, that, wherever she appeared, people might 
 be ready to secure her. But the hours wore into the night, 
 the night became morning, and the patient was not found. 
 The face of the assistant physician wore a solemn look. 
 " Poor Miss Forresst, how unwise she was ! Where can 
 she be ? What will she have to pass through ? If she goes 
 home, her friends will surely bring her back. How much 
 better for her to stay here ! " And the one woman who 
 had seen her start, silently thought, " God still speed thy 
 flying feet, my sister, and put thee far from here ! I wish 
 I was with thee." 
 
 And the first day passed, and the second, and the third 
 dawned. No tidings came of the lost one. The patients 
 whispered to each other in joy. Mrs. Long spoke to Mrs. 
 Joselyn, Miss Tollman skipped blithely, and old Mrs. 
 Spears said, " Thank God ! she comes not back." 
 
 And where, all this time, was Bella ? For hours after 
 she fled, she hardly knew where she was. She never could 
 realize how she sped across the asylum yard, nor how she 
 went over the picket-fence. If she had been told she 
 could do it, she would not have believed it ; but it was 
 done : she was outside the prison bars, and outside the 
 12*
 
 138 BELLA ; 
 
 yard. Fleetness must do the work now. She paused not 
 to see whether she went towards the hill-region, or to the 
 busy streets. " On, on ! " was her thought ; " on ! some 
 where, away from there. On, on, anywhere, anywhere ; 
 but forward, on ! " 
 
 Like a flying chamois she went, and yet she did not run. 
 She dared not run, lest she should attract attention, and 
 some one should arrest her. She felt like a fugitive, and 
 feared every moment that some one would suspect her. 
 Her heart beat, but she dared not stop : she dared not even 
 look behind. The trot f a horse frightened her ; the sound 
 of men s voices gave her quivers of alarm. The day was 
 pleasant, and she did not pause. When her heart throbbed, 
 she pressed her hand on it ; when her breath came hard, 
 she drew a longer inspiration. And still she went on. 
 Men saw something pass them, what, they never knew : 
 they had no time to think. And so night came, and dark 
 ness settled over the place where she was. Where was it? 
 She did not know. How far had she come ? She could not 
 tell. She only knew that she began to breathe more freely. 
 She began to feel that she was away ; that the wide world 
 was before her, that she was free. Something seemed to 
 rise up in her mouth : it felt like joy. She thought it must 
 be joy ; but it was long since she had known the sensation, 
 and she was not sure. Perhaps this feeling was sudden 
 freedom. There was a strange lightness all over her : it 
 seemed as though a pressure had been suddenly taken from 
 her, and she was rising into light. " Oh! had I the wings 
 of a dove, I would %," she murmured, as she saw the 
 broad-spread sunset sky ; and then she dropped. She fell 
 wearily upon a bed of grass, and its soft tufts were as fra 
 grant down to her tired senses. " My mother Earth, I 
 welcome thee ! " washer ejaculation ; and, for the first time, 
 she realized that it was night. Yes, it was night. The 
 hours of darkness were coming ; where should she stay ?
 
 OR, THE CRADLE OP LIBERTY. 139 
 
 " I am a homeless wanderer," she said, half aloud ; " but 
 oil, how happy I am ! " 
 
 There were some houses in the distance. She knew not 
 what kind of people were in them, hut they would give her 
 shelter. She arose, and went towards them. Now she 
 found that she was tired : her feet ached, her limbs trem 
 bled, she walked wearily. Then she began to think what 
 she should say if she called at a house. " They will ask 
 me all kinds of questions, I know. Mother always used 
 to ask people all about themselves, when they came along 
 begging food or lodging. Of course she didn t know 
 whether they told her the truth, but they had to tell her 
 something ; and I shall have to answer questions, for I am 
 a beggar now." 
 
 Pausing, then, new thoughts came. To the left were 
 the houses; to the right stretched dark, concealing woods. 
 They seemed to invite her to their privacy : they said, 
 " Come to us, for beneath our shadows there is rest ; " and 
 the tired girl turned that way. She crossed the interven 
 ing field, felt the night-dews about her feet, saw the shad 
 ows deepening, and entered the wood. At first the trees 
 were sparse. No shrubbery was among them, and she 
 walked from trunk to trunk without finding an inviting 
 place to rest. Then low bushes appeared, and quiet nooks 
 were frequent. Then she came to a stone wall, and to a 
 place where two walls met. In the angle there was brush 
 wood, and huge piles of leaves were drifted hi and dried. 
 
 " Here I will rest," she said. " I will slumber here ; and 
 the free winds shall sing my nightly song, and the leaves 
 overhead shall be my canopy." 
 
 She took off her hat then, and hung it on a broken 
 limb. She spread her shawl around her shoulders, and her 
 long tresses fell about her neck in clusters. Then she 
 smoothed a bed of leaves ; and, lying down, she drew the
 
 140 BELLA ; 
 
 piles of dry leaves about her, and snuggled back beneath 
 a low-spreading branch. " My God, I thank thee ! " was 
 her thought. The stars were coming out in the azure 
 above, the tremulous leaves whispered peace, and night was 
 now upon her. In the distance a dog barked ; and this 
 was all she feared. She reasoned thus : " In our woods, 
 there are no large animals ; only squirrels and birds are 
 here. I am not afraid of them. Dogs might come; but 
 here in this out-of-the-way corner, what is there to attract 
 them ? No, I will not fear. I will sleep here in this 
 cradle of my God." 
 
 Then she folded her hands, and the soft-winged spirit 
 touched her eyelids with soothing rest. 
 
 It was deep night when she awoke, startled by some 
 sound. She was conscious of a crackling, snapping sound, 
 and something seemed to fall. There was a twittering 
 overhead, and she strained her e} 7 es as she listened ; but 
 no more noise was heard, though she held her breath that 
 she might hear. A star glimmered through the foliage 
 above, and afar the trees seemed to tower like giants in 
 their strength ; but all around her there was peace, and the 
 leaves about her person were warm and soft, soothing her 
 to rest. Then she said, "It was only a dry branch that 
 snapped and fell in the night air. I will sleep again." 
 
 When next she awoke, the dawn had overspread the 
 earth, and light was gladdening the sweet, dim woods. 
 Fresh aromas were in the air; health and strength were in 
 their odors ; the old earth was awake again. 
 
 Bella had some troubles that day ; but yet they scarcely 
 seemed like troubles, so confident was she that she should 
 worry through, and come out right. It was ten o clock 
 before she broke her fast; for she did not feel like calling 
 at a door for bread till hunger drove her. She evaded the 
 peoples questions, and still went on, pausing now and then
 
 OR, THE CRADLE OF LIBERTY. 141 
 
 to rest when some by-place allured her. In one of these 
 pauses she began to plan. " I will not go to Boston. I 
 will not go home. I should be sent back to the asylum if 
 I should. That is the way patients are always served. 
 If I only had the letter I wrote to Edward, I could mail it 
 somewhere. If I had only had it with me when I came 
 away ; or, if I had paper, I could write." 
 
 This last idea impressed her. She must write to Ed 
 ward ; yes, she must write ; but how could she get 
 paper ? Beg it ? Yes : anybody would give her a sheet 
 of paper, and lend her a pencil. She walked briskly then ; 
 and when she came to a small white house, whose neat 
 yard bespoke tender women, she called. She trembled a 
 little as a stranger woman opened the door, but ventured 
 to ask for a sheet of paper and a pencil. The woman 
 stared. It was such an odd request for a beggar. She 
 was about to refuse ; but a man appeared. He looked at 
 the girl, and said, "Give it to her, mother: a sheet of 
 paper isn t much." 
 
 " And would you give me an envelope too ? " 
 
 Again the woman stared ; but the man said, " Give her 
 an envelope too ; what harm is there ? " Then he spoke 
 to Bella. " Keep the pencil ; keep the whole. You are 
 welcome to them." 
 
 " I am all right now," she thought, as she turned from 
 the door. It seemed that real strength was given her 
 now; and she walked briskly away. She would write, 
 then beg a stamp, then mail her letter ; and - no thanks 
 to the hospital! "If I have nothing else, I have my free 
 dom," she said; "and with that I can do all things." 
 Then she turned into a field, sat down on a mossy stone, 
 and wrote. Smiles dimpled on her cheeks ; Hope guided 
 her pen. She wrote a page, a second page ; and then she 
 paused. A troubled look was on her face : she held the
 
 142 BELLA ; 
 
 pencil suspended. The troubled look deepened. She arose 
 finally, and put the pencil in her pocket. She walked and 
 mused. She wrote no more that night ; nor until late the 
 next forenoon did she write again. No, nor even then. 
 But she had come to her decision ; and she announced it 
 to herself in this wise. " It is just here : I cannot tell 
 Edward where to direct a letter, or where to come, even if 
 he would come on. I must have a place where I can stay 
 till I hear from him. I know what I will do : I will find 
 a place to work somewhere. That will give me a home 
 and wages. When I have engaged my place, I will finish 
 my letter. It is a splendid plan : I am glad I thought of 
 it ; for then I can tell Edward where to write." 
 
 Every thing was fair now. She brushed down her 
 dress, put back her hair, smoothed her hat, and saw her 
 way clear. And she began to call at houses ; but the more 
 she called, the less seemed her chance. Some looked at 
 her with incredulity ; some said outright that they never 
 hired strangers ; some asked her where she came from ; 
 and some inquired what she could do. But nobody wanted 
 her. She came to a village, and tried at the large houses ; 
 but no one wanted a stranger. At last she grew discour 
 aged, and said, " What shall I do ? I must have a place. 
 I cannot keep tramping. Where should I come out ? I 
 cannot send Edward word where to write, unless I have a 
 home." 
 
 In this mood she entered a large village. A signboard 
 swung in the middle ; and it gave her a thonght. "Here 
 is a tavern. Maybe they would hire me." 
 
 With eager steps she hastened to the door, and made 
 known her errand. The landlord himself came to her, and 
 asked her in. She saw a roomy hall ; doors were opening 
 on either side ; and the place had a half-.stylish air. But 
 style was nothing to her. A home and a refuge was what 
 she wanted.
 
 OR, THE CRADLE OF LIBERTY. 143 
 
 " What can you do ? " asked the landlord. 
 
 "Any thing, any thing that you want me to." 
 
 " What have you been doing ? " 
 
 " This was close ; but she was used now to questions. 
 She made a random answer : " General housework." 
 
 " Where did you come from ? " 
 "Boston." 
 
 " Ah ! You have come a long way. Couldn t you 
 get work nearer ? " 
 
 "I didn t try." 
 
 " Ah ! How is that ? Been cutting up, and want to 
 get out of the way ? " 
 
 She longed to turn on her heel, and flee : color came 
 and went in her face ; but she stood firm ; and the man 
 went on with his questions, puzzling her as a cross-ques 
 tioning lawyer. There seemed to be listeners, in an ad 
 joining room, and occasionally a face peeped out. At 
 last a man motioned to the landlord, and he stepped in 
 there. A sigh of relief gushed from Bella s lips. The 
 man in the next room spoke low. " Landlord," said he, 
 " that ere s the gal what Billings was tellin on. I know 
 her by her curls." 
 
 "You don t say so!" said the landlord; "yet it is ! I 
 know it too ! The description answers exactly. She is 
 the lunatic just escaped. Yes, yes! What shall we do?" 
 
 " Hush ! She ll hear you ! I tell you, landlord : you let 
 me have a team, and I ll take her back again. They ll 
 pay me handsome." 
 
 "But my team," said the landlord : "they ought to pay 
 something handsome for the use of that.", 
 
 " Oh, they will, they will ! That ere feller that goes 
 round huntin arter runaways, always pays. That s the 
 way he gits everybody to help him. v I tell you what, land 
 lord, I ll pay you for the team, and go snucks besides.
 
 144 BELLA ; 
 
 That feller ll give me a good V or X, I ll warrant. He d 
 give a good deal to git that gal back. Jist you let me 
 manage." 
 
 Then the man went out to the hall : " I say, gal, the 
 landlord here don t want no more help ; but I know a man 
 what does want jist sech a gal as you are, and he ll take 
 you, I ll be bound." 
 
 " Where is he ? " asked Bella, trembling with disgust at 
 the man s rude manner. 
 
 "Oh ! he s down here a few miles. You d have to ride ; 
 but I can take you right down, ef you will ride with me." 
 
 " I want work so much that I will go anywhere," Bella 
 answered, while cold shivers ran over her at the thought of 
 riding with that man ! 
 
 " Well, he ll give you work, I ll be bound." 
 
 It was with some misgivings that Bella entered the 
 wagon with this " creature," as he seemed to her. She 
 ventured but one question. 
 
 " What kind of a man is he ? " 
 
 " Oh, he s a gentleman ! Don t think he s like me, cause 
 he ain t. He wants jest seen a gal as you. I heerd him 
 say so. You see, you re right smart. You show it in your 
 looks. Why, I shouldn t wonder ef he would pay me for 
 bringing you to him." 
 
 They rode on silently then ; and miles passed behind 
 them, till at length something in the landscape became 
 familiar. She was sure she had seen it before. She looked 
 earnestly. Yes, it grew more natural. Yes, she knew 
 the place. She turned, and clutched the man s arm. " You 
 are taking me back to the asylum. I know this place." 
 
 " Asylum ! What do you know about the asylum ? " 
 he asked coolly. 
 
 Sure enough; what did she? She was betraying her 
 self. She fell back heavily, and was still j but her heart
 
 OR, THE CRADLE OF LIBERTY. 145 
 
 beat with wild leaps, for every moment the scenery grew 
 more familiar. At length the tops of the long asylum 
 building came in view. She gave a spring. " You are 
 taking me back. I will not go ! I will not go! " 
 
 But, as she sprang, a powerful arm was thrown about 
 her. "No, no, my hearty, you don t get away from me. 
 Yes, they want you down here. I heerd em tell about 
 them ere curls o yourn." And thus they drove in at the 
 great asylum gate. His coarse arm was about her, her 
 heart was throbbing with lightning velocity, her eyes 
 burned in her head. Now she was a bound prisoner. That 
 night she slept in the blinded room. The stern supervisor 
 came, and they bound her down with leather straps. 
 
 "You won t walk out any more," said the attendant. 
 " You have fixed yoiirself this time. You ll get no more 
 privileges, I ll warrant you ! " 
 
 In whispers the patients spoke to eacli other. "It is 
 dreadful, isn t it ? There is little use in trying to escape 
 these miseries. If we get away, there is always somebody 
 willing to bring us back. Patients have no real friends." 
 
 Darker than ever were the days to Bella now. She was 
 not allowed to walk, nor even to leave the hall. The 
 strictest rules were enforced upon her. But these severities 
 brought no submission into a soul like hers. Every in 
 dependent fibre of her being roused into action. Loving, 
 warm-hearted, sensitive to true emotions as was her nature, 
 there yet was within her a deep, ingrained sense of free 
 dom, an independence inherited, and trained by education 
 among free people. To true and genuine love she was sub 
 missive as a child ; but, against this continued repulsive 
 bondage, her young soul incessantly rebelled. She would 
 not be silent. She thought, she watched, she observed, 
 criticised, and talked. Her sister patients were alarmed. 
 
 13
 
 146 BELLA ; 
 
 They tried to hush her, to persuade her through fear ; but 
 she would not heed them. 
 
 "You will bring more trouble upon yourself," they said. 
 
 " Trouble !" she repeated proudly. "I expect trouble. 
 We all are surrounded by trouble in here. What I say is 
 true. If my garment did not fit, they would not, could not, 
 put it on." 
 
 " We know it is all true," the ladies returned ; " but we 
 fear for the consequences to you when you say these 
 things." 
 
 " Fear," she replied. " I am past fear." 
 
 " What shall I do with her?" asked the attendant of 
 the assistant physician. 
 
 " Put her at work," he replied. "A great healthy girl 
 like her should be at work." 
 
 Marion attempted this, but was met by a flat refusal. 
 "No, I will not work for this institution. I will not lift 
 my hands for the prison that holds me in this bondage." 
 
 " But you should not be angry with us. It is your friends 
 who keep you here." 
 
 "Friends!" echoed the patient. "What are they? 
 People who pet us while we are in prosperity, and desert 
 us in the hour of our trouble? Do you call them friends? 
 And as to you, if you choose to let yourself for pay in this 
 building, you may do your work. I am not a hired ser 
 vant in this place." 
 
 Marion told the assistant physician that Miss Forresst 
 flatly refused to work. " There ought to be a law for 
 enforcing labor in asylums," he replied. " These healthy 
 people ought to work." 
 
 " I ll be a law for you," the supervisor remarked. 
 " Leave Miss Forresst to me. I can fix her." 
 
 What selling South was to a Virginia slave, removal td 
 a lower ward is to asylum patients. They chill with sad"
 
 OK, THE CRADLE OF LIBERTY. 147 
 
 ness when one of their number is removed to a lower hall. 
 Their hearts go out in sympathy for that person ; and pity 
 followed Bella now, for this removal had come to her. 
 
 The supervisor entered the hall, and walked straight to 
 Bella s door. v 
 
 " Miss Forresst, I wish you to change halls. You will 
 please go with me." 
 
 There was peremptoriness in her tone. Bella looked up. 
 
 Now ? " 
 
 "Yes, now." 
 
 Bella glanced around. She had a few articles lying 
 about, and she began to gather them up. 
 
 " Don t stop for your things," said the supervisor in a 
 tone of command : " come ! " 
 
 Bella knew it was useless to resist, useless to remonstrate, 
 or even to speak. She looked around, gave one wave of her 
 hand to Mrs. Long, and went out through the rear door of* 
 the hall, and into the open portico ; and the place that had 
 known Bella knew her no more. She had entered that 
 hall without introduction ; she left it without ceremony. 
 She was now in a passage with only her stern conductress. 
 She was to enter another hall, a new arena, where the faces 
 were all strange to her, and the " treatment," she had rea 
 son to suppose, was much harsh er than where she had been. 
 As she followed her guide through the corridors, and inhaled 
 the mouldy, musty air, she asked herself, " Am I really oa 
 American soil, or am I in some country where tyranny 
 rules ? Is this the land to which those grand old men 
 came, that they might sing the psalms of the free ? 
 
 " Then the wild woods rang 
 With the songs of the free, 
 And the glorious tones 
 Of liberty;
 
 148 BELLA ; 
 
 And the joyful sound 
 Rolling far around, 
 Echoing back on the sea, 
 Pealed liberty." 
 
 " And I," mused the girl, " a lineal descendant of those 
 heroic spirits, am an innocent prisoner on their soil ! " 
 
 It was a mighty struggle through which the free young 
 soul of Bella passed that day. She had cause to thank 
 her God who created her with health and strength to en 
 dure. 
 
 As she passed from corridor to corridor, weird, wan faces 
 looked out at her. She shuddered for them ; and her quick 
 thoughts whispered heneath her breath, " Poor, dear, suffer- 
 .ing women ! Shall I ever be like you ? God knows ! Per 
 haps so, if I am held here years, as you are ; for this is a 
 wearing existence, a death in life, a slow wasting into 
 despair." 
 
 And back in the hall she had left, women went to their 
 cells and wept. " Dear, bright, and beautiful Miss Bella ! 
 What lies before her? For her sympathy with us she was 
 removed. Because she could not sit still, and see justice 
 outraged, she is punished."
 
 OK, THE CRADLE OP LIBERTY. 149 
 
 CHAPTER XIV. 
 
 1 the spirits on that other shore quiver at each new 
 advent ? Why should they ? It is but another 
 who has passed, by Nature s appointed way, to 
 another clime of God s creating. Do we tremble at 
 a new advent into our life? Nay. We rather ring 
 bells of acclamation, crying, "Another child is born : a new 
 being is added to our earth." But the birth into this life 
 is of Nature s appointing. Therefore we should rejoice; for 
 that which is created by the unseen natural forces is the 
 result of laws of grandeur and magnificence, mysteriously 
 working above and around us. At these results we should 
 be glad. 
 
 Therefore, at every advent into this life, we should be 
 glad ; and, at every advent into the next life, we could be 
 glad if the laws of God in Nature were kept. For, if the 
 laws of Nature were fully kept by men, all persons ,would 
 live in health and beauty, and would enter that eternal 
 passage as ripened shocks of corn, gliding, from the close 
 of long years, into spheres of beauty and eternal joy. 
 
 But advents into asylum halls are not of God. They 
 are men s contriving^, and they show their origin. With 
 all the art and reason that men possess, they are imperfect 
 workmen beside the great artistic Intellect. No painter has 
 ever yet equalled one flower; no sculptor has ever put life 
 into a bust ; no scientific man has yet perfected his science. 
 Man, compared with any other earthly creation, has wonder- 
 - 13*
 
 150 BELLA ; 
 
 ful powers ; yet, at his best estate, he is but an imitator of 
 his Creator, and men should feel honored when they suc 
 ceed as his imitators. 
 
 But, when men attempt to do that which God has not 
 done, their deficiencies are made more apparent ; for their 
 plans are out of tune, friction and pain ensue, and harmony 
 is lost in discord. 
 
 Such are men s efforts in constructing and governing 
 prisons. God has given the human race but one environ 
 ment ; and that is the pure, big atmosphere in which we 
 live and breathe. Never has he given to man a model for 
 prisons, nor for causing other pain. The sweet, fresh atmos 
 phere, when it enters and emerges from the healthy lungs, 
 causes them no agony; and as we move in this atmosphere, 
 and observe the beautiful creations that flourish in it, it 
 does not seem like a prison, but like a wonderful palace that 
 our Father has given us for an inheritance. 
 
 But men and women sadly mar this beautiful floating 
 palace on which they are created. They mar it by many 
 mistakes and violations of infinite, eternal, natural laws ; 
 and they mar it by their unwise methods of punishing those 
 who have violated these laws. 
 
 Human nature is wise and glorious when it walks in the 
 path the Creator has appointed ; but when it stretches up 
 its hands, and says, " We can make laws, God ! for we are 
 wiser than thou," it creates Babel instead of the order the 
 Lord intended. More than one Babel on this globe has 
 towered up as an insult to Heaven ; more than one still 
 towers. The futility of such works is always apparent on 
 near inspection. Let us draw near, and see this inven 
 tion into which Miss Forresst was now entering, this pat 
 ent for the cure of minds. 
 
 She followed the supervisor into the hall. It was longer 
 than the one she had left ; but its sides were lined with the
 
 OR, THE CRADLE OP LIBERTY. 151 
 
 same kind of coarse doors, and its aspect was all prison. 
 The floor was unpainted, and coarser than that of the hall 
 she had left. Along the sides were ranged a few stiff set 
 tees or lounges, put there apparently to use, but not much 
 permitted to the weary women, from fear of the injury the 
 settees might sustain. The building and furniture of asy 
 lums must be preserved intact for the inspection of trustees. 
 
 Bella looked up and down this hall ; and a glance told 
 her that it was full of a deeper misery than any she had 
 seen. The women seemed lifeless and dejected. Their faces 
 were dulled, and an asylum apathy was settled on them. 
 They looked at each other as Sorrow looks in the eyes of 
 Sorrow, and as Despair watches Despair, saying in heart- 
 language, " How long, Lord ! how long ? " As Bella en 
 tered, they turned their eyes upon her; and their eyes spoke 
 as lips oft spoke in " the best hall." " Another, another. 
 How many are doomed ? " 
 
 Bella felt a deeper chill. Her bosom heaved, and her 
 long black ringlets quivered as from deep emotion. As she 
 followed her conductress, they paused at the door of a dor 
 mitory. Six cot-beds stood side by side. Every night six 
 women were locked in there, strangers to each other, from 
 different ranks in society, but called insane. How insane 
 were they, if six could be trusted together in one small 
 room, locked in by themselves, without power to get out ? 
 
 But Bella did not think of this. She only thought that 
 she was to be one of the six ; and involuntarily she shrank 
 back. " Not there ; oh, do not put me there ! " 
 
 " I do not intend to," the official replied. " I intend you 
 shall have a room alone ; and I wish you to stay in it. I 
 wish you to form no acquaintances in this hall, but to re 
 main in your room entirely alone. This is your room." 
 
 She paused at an open door; and Bella glanced within. 
 An unpainted, coarse board floor ; an iron bedstead at the
 
 152 BELLA ; 
 
 right hand; a small chest-of-drawers at the foot of the bed; 
 and on the opposite side of the cell another bed, -* a sort of 
 wooden frame a foot and a half wide. This was taken out 
 into the hall at night for some poor mortal to lay her tired 
 body on, while she sought the rest, that, heing sought, often 
 could not be found. Between these two beds there was 
 barely room to walk ; between the foot of the iron bedstead 
 and the drawers there was just room for a small chair. For, 
 a moment the young lady stood at the door, and asked her 
 self whether it was possible for any thing to be more cheer 
 less. But she did not speak ; for speaking would bring on 
 an altercation, and an altercation would only result in 
 heavier trouble for herself. Therefore she silently walked 
 into the disagreeable place ; and the supervisor turned away. 
 She went to the attendant, Annie, and said, " I have brought 
 down Miss Forresst to your hall. I wish her to have her 
 room entirely to herself. I wish her to have no conversa 
 tion or communication with any of the patients. You will 
 please not allow her to go into any of their rooms, nor allow 
 any one of them to enter hers." 
 
 Annie received this order without comment, simply bow 
 ing her assent. Annie had but recently come to the asylum. 
 She was a lady in heart, thought, and feeling. She had 
 come, not with the idea that these were crazy people whom 
 she might " thrash " about, and take pay for it ; but she had 
 come with the feeling that they were unfortunate people, 
 for whom she was to do all the kind acts that were in her 
 power. The ladies under her appreciated her tenderness 
 toward them. She kissed a poor haggard woman one day, 
 and the woman was overwhelmed with & grateful delight 
 that she could not forget. Often the women said to her, 
 " If we could always have attendants like you, Annie, we 
 should not be so wretched." 
 
 But Annie s kindness was frequently counteracted by the
 
 OR, THE CRADLE OF LIBERTY. 153 
 
 supervisor, who, calling Annie " too soft-hearted," took 
 upon herself the government of the hall. She went about 
 now among the patients, and gave them all particular in 
 structions to keep out of Miss Forresst s room, and not even 
 to speak to her when they met her in the hall, as she was 
 " a very troublesome patient ; and the less they had to do 
 with her, the better it would be for them." 
 
 The consequence was, that, whenever Bella stepped into 
 the hall, she was the immediate object of scrutiny, although, 
 as the women looked at her, they kept at a respectful dis 
 tance, much as they would from a lioness that had suddenly 
 been thrown among them. They expected some violent 
 outbreak or fearful manifestation ; but hours rolled into 
 days, and still the patient was quiet. She went to and from 
 the table, and, when necessary, crossed and re-crossed the 
 hall. No one spoke to her; and, knowing herself to be 
 under a ban, she spoke to no one. But for her speaking 
 eyes she was not responsible. Nature had given her eyes 
 that would speak ; and, though she suppressed her lips 
 when she met these women, the blue-black Montague would 
 flash out. And as the language of the eyes is not easily 
 mistaken, it came about, ere many days, that the women all 
 felt acquainted with Miss Forresst. They began to suspect 
 a hoax, and to see that Miss Forresst s " troublesome " qual 
 ities were not from insanity, but from her quick perception, 
 which made her " traublesom e " where there was so much 
 wrong to discern. Annie formed the same opinion ; but 
 she made no remark. Presently the women began to ques 
 tion her. 
 
 "Annie, do you see any thing dangerous about Mi^s 
 Forresst ? " 
 
 " I see nothing," was Annie s mild reply. 
 
 "We all thought she was violent, from the orders given 
 about her ; but she does not show any thing of it, and we 
 have changed our opinion."
 
 154 BELLA ; 
 
 "You have a right to your opinions," said Annie, smiling. 
 
 " Yes : we can think them, but not express them. We 
 dare speak to you, because you are so kind." 
 
 " I speak myself sometimes," was Annie s response. 
 
 There was in this gallery a small, frail woman, who was 
 one of the objects of the supervisor s especial attention. It 
 seemed that she could not be satisfied unless this woman 
 was under discipline. Mrs. Jones was the sufferers name. 
 She was the wife of a respectable young farmer; and she 
 was also young, though she had been the mother of five 
 children. She wandered up and down this hall, heart-broken 
 and forlorn. Somehow she had incurred official displeasure ; 
 and, as a consequence, she bore the whole force of discipline. 
 She had walked in jackets day after day, till jackets seemed 
 her normal condition. And it is not a light thing to wear 
 a jacket made of strong canvas, with heavy sleeves coining 
 down over the fingers, and sewed tightly at the ends, to 
 which are attached straps that bind the hands tight to the 
 body. When these straps are tied, the hands cannot be 
 raised from the body, nor has the person the least chance 
 to use them. Mrs. Jones had worn jackets till it seemed 
 that she must be worn out herself; and she was. She 
 grew pale and thin, and her eyes looked staring and wild. 
 " She s a terribly crazy woman," the assistant physician 
 said ; and therefore he justified the acts of the supervisor. 
 Mrs. Jones had been dragged on the floor, by her two arms, 
 the length of the gallery. She had been pulled across the 
 hall by the ears ; she had been jerked \>y the hair of the 
 head ; she had been struck by the keys, and carried on her 
 forehead the scars of the gashes they had made ! She 
 was among those who had been silently watching Bella, 
 and had read the young girl s speaking eyes. Softly, one 
 morning, she came to Bella s door, and cautiously looked in. 
 Bella saw her wild eyes, and thin, wan face, and was star 
 tled. Mrs. Jones said, " May I come in ? "
 
 OR, THE CRADLE OP LIBERTY. 155 
 
 Bella hesitated. Then she said, " You know I am not 
 allowed company." 
 
 " Yes, I know/ said Mrs. Joiies. " Is it because you do 
 not want them, or because the people over us do not want 
 you to have them ? " 
 
 " Oh, it is the people over us ! I should not shut myself 
 up of my own will." 
 
 " Then I am coming," said the woman ; and, gliding in, 
 she partially closed the door as a screen behind her. 
 
 "But the supervisor" Bella suggested. 
 
 " She has just been through the hall," Mrs. Jones replied. 
 " She won t come again quite yet." 
 
 " And Annie " 
 
 "She won t tell. She is always good. She has been here 
 only a short time ; and, if we could have such attendants as 
 she is, it wouldn t seem so terrible here. But there ! after 
 all, it can t be good here. The best of attendants could not 
 make things right. There are the supervisors, and the 
 matron, and the doctors, all coming in and giving orders, 
 and spoiling all comfort. Annie says, if we could be let 
 alone, and do a little as we please, she thinks we might 
 have a little happiness, if we are prisoners. And then there 
 are such rules ! Did you ever read the printed rules hung 
 up in this hall, Miss Forresst ? " 
 
 " I looked them over." 
 
 " Did you notice that every rule has a not or never 
 in it ? 
 
 " I did not observe that. I only thought they were very 
 close, hard rules." 
 
 "Well, you read them again. There are ten of them, 
 and every one reads, The patients shall not, or the pa 
 tients shall never ; till one wonders what we may do here. 
 Don t you think it is wicked to keep people shut up so, and 
 deprive them of every privilege of natural life ? "
 
 156 BELLA ; 
 
 " My opinions are well known here," Bella replied. " It 
 may not be best for me to repeat them." 
 
 " And that is why they order us not to speak to you," 
 said Mrs. Jones, her face lighting up with intelligence. " I 
 understand them. You know too much for them. You see 
 through things, and there is so much here that won t bear 
 being seen through. They tried to make us think you a 
 wild maniac ; but I am sure I don t see but you are as ra 
 tional as they are. Are you insane ? " 
 
 " I never knew that I was ; but I don t know how soon 
 I shall be, if I stay liere." 
 
 t( That s it ! " said the woman with a sudden thrill. 
 " They make people crazy here. I know all about it. I 
 have borne their discipline ! " Here her eyes dilated. 
 " Yes, I have borne their treatment. I have been har 
 nessed to an iron bed in the blinded room, and staid there, 
 bound, all night, alone, except my God. I was sane when 
 I came here. I was sick, but sane. I am not sane now : 
 I am insane, insane ! I felt myself grow insane. They 
 drove me into it. And, oh, it was such pain, such terrible 
 pain ! I shrieked in my agony ; and then they sheeted me. 
 Do you know what that is, Miss Forresst ? " 
 
 " No. What is it ? " 
 
 " I will tell you. They take a poor woman, like as they 
 took me, and they take her into one of these little cells. 
 Our supervisor is very fond of that kind of discipline. 
 When she sheeted me, she took me into that little room 
 opposite this. She had two attendants with her, great 
 strong girls; and she is a strong woman, you know; and 
 they laid me down flat on the bed, and held me there. 
 And while the two girls held, my arms and feet, she took 
 the sheet, and wound it around and around my head, closing 
 my mouth and nose from the air. I could not breathe. 
 A feeling came over me as of death, and a gurgling noise
 
 OR, THE CEADLE OF LIBERTY. 157 
 
 was in my throat. I thought I was going to my God; 
 that I could never breathe again. Then they unwound the 
 sheet. I suppose they did not want me to die outright. 
 Oh, when I was sick, and needed comfort, this was what I 
 had! And my little children at home when I think of 
 them ! But oh, I must not think ! And we are so hungry 
 here : we have so little to eat. Don t you get hungry, Mis:} 
 Forresst ? " 
 
 " I do, in this hall. In the other hall there is enough 
 such as it is; but here there is not enough of any thing. 
 I think the ladies must all be hungry." 
 
 " They are, they are. Sometimes we divide out the bread, 
 so as to. be sure that each has her portion. At other times, 
 some of us feel so hungry that we hurry to the table like 
 greedy pigs ; and then the last ones go without; for we 
 can t all have enough, you know, and hunger makes people 
 selfish. Don t you think so, Miss Forresst?" 
 
 "I have heard of its making people wild and insane," 
 said Bella. "But here they use it to cure insanity; and, 
 as this is a scientific and approved institution for the cure 
 of diseased minds, I think people are mistaken in eating 
 enough out in the world. They ought to know that plenty 
 of good food is injurious to mental health. And when they 
 provide dinners and entertainments for celebrities, they 
 should have a few baked beans, or a little corned beef and 
 cabbage, or a plate of bone-soup, or a bit of salt fish, fol 
 lowed by a dessert of half-made hasty-pudding. My father 
 used to make better puddings for his horse. It is a pity 
 the world should be ignorant of the scientific methods for 
 mental cure that are used in these large establishments. 
 Somebody ought to make this system public." 
 
 " If you ain t splendid ! " said Mrs. Jones. " I do not 
 wonder they keep you alone. Why, you could stir up the 
 patients till there would be a rebellion right here in this hall." 
 14
 
 158 BELLA ; 
 
 "Which I should be sorry to do: for they can neither 
 get out, nor help themselves, in ; and I should only cause 
 them more trouble. No : it is not in here that these mat 
 ters should be discussed. It is out in the world, the open, 
 free world, everywhere, in every house and family. For 
 are not homes broken, and family ties sundered, to feed these 
 institutions? People outside of here should know just 
 what goes on inside, just what we know, we who suf 
 fer." 
 
 Click. 
 
 " Hush ! " murmured Mrs. Jones. " Somebody is com 
 ing." And, with terror in her face, she darted behind the 
 door, forcing her way in at the foot of the narrow bed. 
 
 The click was that of the supervisor. She passed 
 through the hall, looking keenly each way at the weary, 
 dispirited women. She saw Bella sitting in her one chair, 
 and said to herself, " It takes me to manage patients." 
 
 She did not see Mrs. Jones behind the door. But Bella 
 saw. She saw how Mrs. Jones s eyes dilated, how she grew 
 wild at the sound of those stern, hated steps ; and Bella did 
 not wonder. She reflected on the "treatment" this super 
 visor had given this pale woman, whose insanity was caused 
 by a physical disability that should have received the ten- 
 derest care ; and her reflections opened to her mind new 
 and broad views of this appalling disease. She marveDed 
 that the doctors looked on complacently, and winked at the 
 cruelties the attendants co mmitted; and she marvelled also 
 that the physicians looked only superficially at their pa 
 tients, holding them in bondage while their disease worked 
 deeper and deeper. 
 
 Mrs. Jones s visit emboldened the other women to try sly 
 visits ; and, within a week, nearly every woman in the hall 
 had been in Bella s room. Sometimes Annie would look iu 
 and say, " Be careful, or you will be caught."
 
 OK, THE CRADLE OF LIBERTY. 159 
 
 " Oh ! you keep watch, Annie, and let us know if you see 
 her coming." 
 
 The kind Annie did watch, both for their sakes and her 
 own ; for she knew that if she was discovered as a partisan 
 with what would be called insubordination, she would re 
 ceive reprimands, perhaps dismissal, though as to the latter, 
 she expressed herself as considering it would be no disgrace 
 if she was dismissed for being too humane. "I should be 
 proud to have that said of me," she remarked. 
 
 As connecting links between the halls, there are porticos 
 with large windows, where the patients can walk, and fam^y 
 themselves out of doors. But the windows are iron-sashed, 
 and the doors locked. Bella sometimes walked in these 
 porticos, for exercise and variety to her life. Many and 
 sad were the sights she saw here, many and sad the les 
 sons she learned. She saw women thrust out there at the 
 caprices of their attendants. When it was rain} , and when 
 it was cold, early and late, and at any other times, they 
 were rudely pushed out and locked out at the commands of 
 their attendants. There was one poor, thin, hollow-cheeked 
 woman, who had been for more than a score of years in 
 that house, who was regularly, every morning, thrust out 
 there to pace, or crouch down, regardless of the weather. 
 In the depths of winter, when the ice crackled around the 
 building, and the hoar-frost covered the windows, at five 
 o clock in the morning, when the great bell rang, this 
 woman s attendant went into hen room, pulled her out of 
 bed, threw a calico gown and a thin shawl over her shoulders, 
 and thrust her out to walk in that cold, cheerless space. 
 The poor creature shivered and chattered there for an hour. 
 Then she was taken in ; and the rest of the day she was 
 locked into her desolate cell, sitting all day alone, without 
 fire, occupation, or comfort. She had brothers and sisters 
 out in the world, in luxurious homes, with plenty around
 
 160 BELLA ; 
 
 them. They were healthy, robust people. She, the invalid, 
 fared no better than a vile felon on a dungeon-floor. 
 
 Many faces did Bella see as she walked these porticos. 
 They came to the windows of their halls, and looked out into 
 this dreary space. There were young faces, delicate, refined 
 and beautiful, looking out in wistful agony. There were old 
 faces, from whom the hope and joy of life had flown. There 
 were women in middle life, cut suddenly from all they 
 loved ; and hopeless prison stagnation rested on them all. 
 There was one woman, sent out there every day in the piti 
 less cold to eat. With her plate of meagre food in her 
 hand, she was turned out and locked out. There was 
 neither chair nor table. The floor was of bare boards : she 
 put her plate on it in one corner, and, crouching, ate her 
 daily food there. Bella shuddered at the sight. It seemed 
 like a dog crouching to his food ; and, when a human being 
 falls to this state, it is pitiful indeed.
 
 OE, THE CEADLE OF LIBEETY. 161 
 
 CHAPTEE XV. 
 
 CONNECTED with our asylums are chapels, where 
 God can be worshipped by patients in bondage. 
 The chapels are airy, prettily-finished rooms, and 
 are used for all public meetings of the asylum in 
 mates, such as sociables, lectures, prayers, and any 
 amusements that the superintendent sees fit to provide, 
 But all these arrangements are subject to stringent rules, 
 and do not at all partake of the nature of free meetings in 
 the open world. First, the majority of those present in 
 these asylum assemblies are driven together by the orders 
 of their attendants ; for comparatively few are so trained 
 that they walk submissively in the circumscribed, plodded 
 paths that the managers mark out. 
 
 Second, the manner of going from the halls to the 
 chapel gives patients strange sensations of bonds and 
 prison horror. The patients are filed from the halls under 
 guard; and, to reflecting minds, this filing is a sad sight. 
 It seems like mortals filing through passages to eternity, 
 without freedom, joy, or hope. 
 
 Some very good lectures are given in these chapels. If 
 delivered outside, they would be both pleasant and instruc 
 tive. But here the listeners feel their chains, and are too 
 burdened and unhappy to find real enjoyment in anything. 
 During long days they have been sitting within sounds of 
 woe, have been in misery themselves, and know that 
 they are to go from the chapel back to those same locked 
 u*
 
 102 BELLA ; 
 
 halls. They think also of the numbers left there, too mis 
 erable to come out, even for an hour ; and that over them 
 are left guards, whose business it is to keep them there. 
 
 Realization of these circumstances prevents the patients 
 from finding real pleasure in any thing within these walls. 
 Their nerves are tremulous with fear ; their hearts ache 
 with suffering. From beginning to end, the "treatment" 
 of insane patients is made up of shocks to their already 
 weakened nerves ; falsehoods that are uttered to them as 
 freely as though God had not forbidden falsehood and 
 deceit ; and violent acts committed upon them, such as, if 
 Committed by them, would consign them forever to cells. 
 
 The false ideas of the cure of insanity, which have given 
 birth to the corroding system now eating the hearts of our 
 people, are sanctioned by laws, that, though framed for the 
 protection of persons accused of insanity, can be easily 
 evaded by unscrupulous men ; and rational people can be, 
 and are, as cruelly confined as the truly insane. Not only 
 are rational women there, but men also, on whose brows 
 are the stamp of intelligence and the seal of truth. Bella 
 met one of these gentlemen, one evening, at a chapel socia 
 ble. Surprise almost compelled unbelief in her own eye 
 sight when she saw Mr. David Wright sitting among the 
 ^patients in the chapel. She had met him often in Boston, 
 and thought him one of the finest men of her acquaintance. 
 He, too, was equally surprised at meeting her. He spoke 
 with her. 
 
 " Is it possible ? " he said. " Do I really see Miss Bella 
 Forresst in this unfortunate place ? " 
 
 " It is quite true," she answered; "but you are not 
 more surprised than I am to see Mr. David Wright here." 
 
 Then followed the usual questions ; of which one was, 
 " Do you think you are benefited by being here ? " 
 
 "I think," was Mr. Wright s reply, " that I am in a con-
 
 OR, THE CRADLE OF LIBERTY. 163 
 
 stant anxiety about my family ; that my wife is struggling 
 with her four boys to manage, and no husband to help her; 
 and that she is paying six dollars a week for me here, for 
 board that is of the meanest quality ; and I see no benefit 
 to myself. But I am in. When I shall get out, time will 
 show. The institution claims law, and has the credence of 
 the people outside, which gives it power. I have my sim 
 ple protest ; and the protest of a patient is that ! " 
 
 He snapped his thumb and finger together, with a school 
 boy s twirl ; for his soul was irritated with his situation, out 
 of which there was no egress. 
 
 Bella learned now something of her neighbors, the men 
 who were imprisoned in their own departments. She had 
 seen them in the chapel, and had sometimes had glimpses 
 of them through the windows when she was outside ; but 
 now, for the first time, she learned of their inner life, as Mr. 
 Wright, talking low, ventured to communicate. 
 
 " How do the men employ themselves ? " Bella asked. 
 
 He glanced carefully around, lest some attendant might 
 be listening ; then he said, " By way of amusement, tho 
 most popular employment is playing cards. Rather doubt 
 ful as a mental improver outside of here, Miss Forresst, but 
 considered very efficacious within. When the physician 
 sees a company engaged in it, he says, Ah, glad to see 
 that ! The more of it the better. By way of labor, the 
 occupations are various. Washing dishes is extensively 
 used as a mental renovator. If wives only knew how ben 
 eficial this employment is to the mind, they could set their 
 husbands at it at home, and thus save the expense of send 
 ing them to asylums. Then we have washing windows, 
 cleaning paint, knives, floors, brasses, and so on. Some are 
 detailed to the laundry, some to the cook-room ; and some 
 are permitted to go outside and work on the farm, provided 
 they submit themselves to their overseers, do not try to run
 
 164 BELLA ; 
 
 away, and work faithfully hoeing and digging in the hot 
 sun, while their attendants loll and lounge on the ground, 
 earning their money by watching their slaves. This is said 
 to be an excellent thing for the patients ; and land is pur 
 chased by the institution purposely for this labor. If its 
 excellence consists in toiling in the hot sun, why may we 
 not work in free life, and work as we please, where the 
 wages would be our own ? If its excellence consists in 
 working under overseers as slaves, I must say I beg to be 
 excused from receiving its benefits. It would not agree 
 with my constitution to cultivate land with an overseeing 
 taskmaster at my side. I should bolt ; and then I should 
 be marched back to my cell. 
 
 " There is another method of improving the minds of 
 men here. We are allowed to walk out. I tried it once in 
 the yard. We were told that we might walk up and down 
 the terraces, provided we kept on the front of the house, and 
 within view of our walking attendant. Well, I began the 
 solemn tread ; but scarce had gone half one length before 
 the attendant came down upon me with arms uplifted, a 
 heavy cane flourishing in his right hand, and vociferating 
 boisterously, Back, there, back ! He shouted as he came 
 near me. Back to the next terrace ! This is too near the 
 street ! I quietly stepped back, and he marched on to the 
 front terrace himself, brandishing his cane ; and there he 
 walked back and forth with pompous steps, while we cow 
 ered humbly, and listlessly paced beneath his eyes. I tell 
 you, I never saw so abject a spectacle ; and I could scarcely 
 believe myself in my own country. I do not know by what 
 rule of mental philosophy physicians prove such methods 
 beneficial to their patients, in this enlightened, independent 
 country ; and I " 
 
 "Ah, Mr. Wright ! you seem to be having quite a chat 
 with Miss Forresst," said a man s voice near.
 
 OR, THE CRADLE OF LIBERTY. 165 
 
 Mr. Wright looked up. The supervisor stood there. At 
 the same instant some one touched Bella s arm. It was 
 the matron. " Miss Forresst, there is a lady out here 
 wishes to be introduced to you." 
 
 Bella followed the woman outside the chapel, and here 
 the matron paused. " Miss Forresst, I am shocked at you 
 talking so long with that man. I cannot permit such an 
 impropriety. This young lady will take you back to your 
 hall." 
 
 A tall, stout girl here stepped forward, and, twirling her 
 keys, deigned to speak. " This way, Miss Forresst." 
 This was said in a tone of insolent command. Bella fol 
 lowed, quietly and speechlessly ; but two red spots burned 
 in her cheeks. 
 
 The supervisor disposed of Mr. Wright more summarily, 
 by hissing into his ear, " Dry up your slang, now, or you ll 
 not get out of your hall again ! " 
 
 Thus the mutinous conversation was suppressed, and the 
 asylum had its way. Mr. Wright might sit his lifetime in 
 his cell, thinking of his struggling wife and children at 
 home. His feelings were of no account. He was a 
 chattel of the institution, and chattels are valuable only 
 for the gain of their possessors. 
 
 We may as well add here that Mr. Wright did continue 
 to sit there. Week after week, and month after month, he 
 waited patiently for the word of release. He was an 
 honorable, law-abiding man, and wanted to leave the place 
 " honorably," as the asylum keepers call it. Mrs. Wright 
 went often to see her husband. She sent him to this insti 
 tution by the advice of her doctor, who told her a few 
 weeks stay would be sufficient. It was sufficient, but not 
 to cure. It sufficed to reduce him, to take hope and health 
 from him. Months passed ; and the superintendent repeated 
 to her the hackneyed phrase, "He is doing very well.
 
 1G6 BELLA ; 
 
 A little longer stay will be sufficient." She told this to 
 her husband, and he resigned himself. He waited. The 
 hot weather came, and the superintendent told him he 
 might go as soon as it was cool. He waited all the fall for 
 the word of manumition, but no such word was spoken. 
 Then winter drew on ; and, when Mrs. Wright came again 
 to see her husband, she was told that he would be better to 
 stay through the winter, until warm weather came. He 
 staid on, dragging out a miserable existence, which he 
 endured with what fortitude he could summon. His wife 
 paid his board as long as her means lasted ; but the failure 
 of money gives no release to lunatic prisoners, whatever 
 their condition. The law magnanimously provides for 
 those who have no other means of payment, and it seems 
 like kindness ; but when, practically, this charity is used 
 for the purposes of gain to the institutions, it becomes a 
 cruel bondage to thousands whose board-money thus goes 
 to swell the asylum coffers. State patients are small in cost 
 within asylums. They are crowded into spaces scarce 
 larger than their bodies ; they are hustled together 
 in rows; the corridors become miasmatic with their 
 exhalations; and all this is for the cure of their minds! 
 Such situations would demoralize the finest minds ! 
 How, then, do physicians thus expect to elevate their 
 lunatic patients ? 
 
 Without a word to himself, Mr. David Wright s name 
 was, by the asylum managers, transferred to the list of 
 poor patients. He suspected it. He knew his wife s 
 resources, and knew that it was impossible for her to con 
 tinue to pay the stipulated sums ; and, though no one told 
 him, he felt that he was made a pauper as well as a 
 prisoner. The thought was like a vulture gnawing at hia 
 vitals. How could he escape ? His fetters were as iron, 
 and his mind might well go lunatic under his trials. But
 
 OR, THE CRADLE OF LIBERTY. 167 
 
 what cared the asylum? He counted one; and each .of 
 these ones was just so much gain to the institution. Mr. 
 Wright grew haggard, and his clothes became shabby. He 
 felt that he could not and would not stay. He would have 
 freedom ! His poor wife had become disheartened. The 
 brightness of her eyes was dimmed. The prolonged im 
 prisonment of her husband led her to fear that he would 
 never be well. She wept when she saw how thin and 
 haggard he was growing. It did not occur to her that 
 scanty and improper food, constant incarceration, home 
 sickness and heart-sickness, were the powerful stimulants 
 that were wearing her husband away ; but he knew it, and 
 it wore upon him. By stealthy contrivings he managed to 
 get at some points of law. He found that by application 
 to the judge of the Supreme Judicial Court, he would be 
 entitled to a hearing or trial, as to his sanity, or fitness for 
 release. 
 
 But who would make application for him ? Should he 
 himself send out a letter ? Who would take it out ? N"ofc 
 the superintendent, nor any of the asylum officials. When 
 he asked them to help him, they said, " Oh, don t hurry ! 
 Your wife will take you out some time." But his wife was 
 disheartened. She had been so often told, " He had better 
 not go just yet," that she fully believed the "just yet" 
 would never come. She was timid, and afraid to appeal to 
 so dignified a personage as the judge of the Supreme Court. 
 This law thus became a "dead letter " to Mr. Wright. He 
 turned then to lower powers, but to powers that were abso 
 lute over him. He appealed to the trustees. He wrote a 
 letter in which he stated his case clearly, and appealed to 
 them to give him a hearing, and, if it should be proved 
 that he was not insane, to release him from his confine 
 ment. By.law the trustees had this power; but in practice 
 their power was of no avail, for they immediately referred
 
 168 BELLA ; 
 
 the matter to the superintendent, and he assumed his 
 blandest smile, assuring the trustees that Mr. Wright was 
 "a very nice" man, but," here he lowered his voice signifi 
 cantly, " better off where he is. He is not quite right, 
 gentlemen," he continued iii the same tone, " not quite 
 right." 
 
 Thus the case ended, though Mr. Wright tried again 
 and again to interest the trustees. As they passed through 
 the hall, he arose and spoke to them ; and he prepared 
 other letters which he put into their hands, but they 
 never gave any attention to his pleas. The opinion of the 
 superintendent governed them. They never asked what 
 motives ruled the superintendent. They never though t 
 he could have a selfish motive. Time went by. Lines of 
 disciplinary sorrow gathered on Mr. Wright s brow, and 
 deep anguish furrowed his cheeks. He walked like a man 
 under fear, and his whole manner was subdued and hope 
 less ; but still he did not quite give up. His integrity 
 and purity served him as props, and bore him up. He 
 still hoped for justice. At last another opportunity offered, 
 and his heart leaped for it. He heard there was a law, 
 that, upon complaint of any person confined in a lunatic 
 asylum, or other place, or of any other person in his 
 behalf, to the general agent of the Board of State Charity, 
 that such person ought no longer to be confined, the agent 
 should have power to investigate the case, make report to 
 the board, and, if they so direct, should make application 
 to the justice of the Supreme Judicial Court for the dis 
 charge of such person. Mr. Wright learned of this law, 
 and again he wrote. He prepared a true and touching 
 letter, and sent it out to mail by a brother patient who had 
 the privilege of going about town. He was more success 
 ful than Bella, when she sent her letter by a patient ; and 
 his letter went. It was received by the person to whom it
 
 OR, THE CRADLE OF LIBERTY. 169 
 
 was sent, and was made the subject of action. A hearing 
 was ordered ; and Mr. Wright, pale and weary with his 
 long duress, felt happiness once more surging into his soul. 
 Freedom seemed before him. Once more he was to walk 
 without a guard watching every movement, to sit at a table 
 where wholesome varieties of food would invite him, and 
 to feel that he was a man among men. He talked of his 
 coming liberty, thought of it by day, and dreamed of it by 
 night. ,He felt a halo about him ; and, in its glow, he ex 
 panded till his face seemed renewed and glorified. But 
 alas for his hopes ! One by one they perished ; one by one 
 they withered away. Just as the superintendent influenced 
 the trustees in Mr. Wright s previous efforts, he now influ 
 enced the Board of Charity. How could they gainsay his 
 smooth words? How could they deny his assertion that 
 Mr. Wright was unsuitable to go ? One word from the 
 superintendent outweighed all other testimony in the 
 opinions of the gentlemen of the board. They said to 
 each other, " Surely the doctor knows better than we." 
 
 Thus again the well-meaning law was prostituted, and 
 became as blank paper to this long-suffering patient. He 
 could not get out by it. The asylum had more power over 
 him than the law ; and asylums will have more power than 
 law as long as the words of the officers are taken for abso 
 lute truth. 
 
 Mr. Wright did not get his freedom. He still sits in his 
 cell, a tall, gaunt man, in seedy, rusty garments, with silver 
 streaks threading his hair. His wife has no husband, his 
 children are fatherless. The superintendent says, " He is 
 not suitable to go." 
 
 When will he be suitable ? When will his mind be up 
 lifted from its pressure, and gladness once more step in ? 
 Not while he dwells within these walls, a prey to sadness, 
 lonely, desolate, and wretched, among men as desolate as he. 
 
 15
 
 170 BELLA ; 
 
 Of what use to him are the laws, save to keep him for 
 ever in prison ? To be effective, laws must have executors. 
 How can patients, shut up from every avenue of outer 
 communication, procure executors ?, The persons who are 
 keepers over them can utterly prevent their making known 
 their situations ; watching them with a closeness that pre 
 cludes letters, or any message, from going out. There 
 might as well be no laws for the release of such persons ; 
 such laws are valueless, except to show the fine powers of 
 the law-makers. Practically they are of no avail to per 
 sons held in locked asylums. Boards of charity, judicial wis 
 dom, and legal acumen, can all be thrust aside, and rendered 
 useless by ingenious devices, and shrewd management ; 
 and people at large know nothing of the many evasions. 
 Laws and patients all glide by together, while the printed 
 reports, and suave smiles of the superintendents, are eager 
 ly accepted ; and the patients suffer on, each in his or her 
 own pinched compartment. " It would be better to abolish 
 the laws for shutting in, than, being shut in unjustly, to 
 find no way out." So said Mr. Wright, and so thought 
 Bella as she still continued looking through the grates.
 
 OR, THE CRADLE OF LIBERTY. 171 
 
 CHAPTER XVI. 
 
 [UT in the broad lauds where west winds blow, and 
 civilization s axe cleaves bold strokes, there had 
 stood the rude cabin of a settler. Its owner was a 
 native of Norway, who had come from Europe with 
 a band of his countrymen. He settled with them 
 at first ; but, straying one day in a hunt by himself, he 
 chanced upon a lovely, isolated spot, one of Nature s oases. 
 It flashed in sheen, and it sang the hymns of the ages ; for 
 a stream of clear water purled glitteringly through the ver 
 dure, and the adjacent "timber-land " echoed the wind-chor 
 als of the " forest primeval." 
 
 The attractions of the place caught the eye of the Nor 
 wegian. The trees would give wood for his fires ; the 
 stream would furnish fish for food ; while the fertile banks 
 invited the hoe and the plough. It might be cold in win 
 ter ; but what was cold or snow to him ? Cold was his 
 native element ; and frost and ice were pastime play 
 things. He brought his wife and little ones to this place ; 
 he upturned the soil by his own strength ; his cabin was 
 filled with plenty ; and peace sat at his fireside. But there 
 is one law of Nature to which all must bow. It passed its 
 hand over him. His wife became a widow, his children 
 were fatherless. The " neighbors " talked about it. They 
 were miles away ; but still they were neighbors, and knew 
 the widow wanted to sell her improvements, and go to a 
 settlement of her countrymen.
 
 172 BELLA ; 
 
 This was a subject of conversation among the scat lered 
 families, as Capt. Beale and his little company were search 
 ing and inquiring for a location suited to their wants. 
 
 " Stranger," said a rough-bearded, roughly-dressed man, 
 with a shock of grizzly hair covering his head, and a flap 
 ping specimen of a hat surmounting that, " I reckon I 
 know the place that ll suit ye. It s a moity fine sitooation : 
 a leetle out o the way, perhaps, jest now, but la ! Ye can t 
 git fur out o the way in this yer country. Ef ye try to 
 be by yerself, the fust ye know, there s a city behind ye. 
 This is a big country, stranger. We don t have no hills a 
 cuttin off the rizon as they say they do in that ar New 
 England, whar I reckon you hail from. Why, I ve heern 
 tell that them ar hills are so high, that a man can t see but 
 seventeen acres of sky ter one time ! " 
 
 The speaker cocked his old felt hat, and cast up his eye at 
 the same time, to see what effect his remarks had produced., 
 The captain replied pleasantly, "I don t much like your 
 hit at New England, my friend. I have grown up there ; 
 and I like the hills, the sky, and the people. But every 
 man has a right to praise his own country, and I am sure 
 I have no wish to speak disparagingly of yours. I have 
 come here to find a home; and, if you will pilot me and my 
 friends to this place you have mentioned, I will see you 
 well paid." 
 
 Under the guidance of this man, the party reached the 
 little spot ; and, as it had charmed the Norwegian, it now 
 charmed the New Englanders. Its beauties were not of 
 the prairie type, but of that undulating character that never 
 wearies by monotony. 
 
 Trading, in this case, was not a haggling, but a matter 
 of pleasant intercourse. The widow was ready to sell at 
 any price ; the young men, full of chivalrous honor, were 
 ready to empty their purses for one upon whose sorrows
 
 * OR, THE CRADLE OP LIBERTY. 173 
 
 they looked with sympathetic pity. Between the two over- 
 generous parties, the Westerner came with his knowledge 
 of valuation ; and, by his aid, the transfer was successfully 
 completed. The Norwegian cabin on the isle of beauty 
 became the property of Capt. Beale and Ed\vard Forresst. 
 The widow went to her people, and the New-England 
 family settled in her place. Emily became housekeeper; 
 and Elijah, the carpenter, worked on the buildings with a 
 carpenter s eye and hand. 
 
 Jack was in ecstasies. The place to him had all the 
 charms of fairy romance. He peeped around into the 
 corners and crevices, within and without. He was up and 
 down the banks of the stream, and plunged into the glens 
 of the wood. 
 
 " It s cute," he said with a grin ; " and, when you get her 
 here, cap u, we ll sing, Oh, be joyful ! all the time." 
 
 Bella was Jack s ideal of womanhood. From the first, 
 in the Shaker family, he had invested her with the most 
 wondrous halos ; and the glory still lingered about her. 
 He admired the captain chiefly because he was Bella s 
 chosen. Jack thought he must be different from other men, 
 or she would never have liked him ; and all Jack s plans 
 looked prospectively to the time when she should come to 
 their home. It was, indeed, the era for which they all 
 planned. In reconstructing the house, Elijah was ever 
 thinking, " How would Miss Bella like it ? Would she 
 have it this way, or would she have it that?" while Mor 
 timer and Edward were asking each other, " How soon 
 shall we have the means to take our brides ? " 
 
 Into this home, with pleasant surprise, came Bella s let 
 ters, announcing that she and her mother were coming, fur 
 niture and all. The Western cabin was full of happiness 
 then. The very rafters vibrated with the echoes of joy. 
 
 15*
 
 174 BELLA ; * 
 
 Jack crowed like a Yankee cock-a-doodle, and Emily s face 
 lighted up with delight. 
 
 " This is scarcely a fit place for mother s furniture," said 
 Edward thoughtfully. 
 
 " We will make it better sooner than you expect," Elijah 
 replied, his eyes kindling with energy. 
 
 The captain was silent ; but his thoughts were busy. 
 " At last, at last, I am to be happy." 
 
 He felt that his day-star had arisen, and in his soul a 
 new morn was appearing. " At last," he repeated, " I arn 
 to begin life. What has been my life hitherto ? A speck, 
 a moiety. What shall be my life henceforth ? One eternal 
 rhapsody. Thank God ! I will write to her, and bid her 
 welcome." 
 
 " Ah ! upon my honor." 
 
 Mr. Frederic Forresst held an open letter. His upper 
 lip was taking its peculiar curve, and the mustache was at 
 angles. The letter bore a Western post-mark. He read 
 on, and then commented. " This is the cream of love s 
 eloquence. Capt. Mortimer pours out sentiment like a 
 romancer. He will have time to cool before it is answered. 
 My foolish little sister must have a different letter." Then 
 he tossed this into his drawer, and sent her the paper of 
 guardianship. Her Western letters she had no more 
 chance of receiving than if she had been in a monarchical 
 stronghold. Frederic met every emergencj with perfect 
 skill, aided by these institutions, and in secret muttered 
 his old oath, "Never, never, shall Chauncey Beale or his 
 progeny inherit one penny of my father s property." 
 
 Then he gave his shoulders a shrug, and his mustache 
 another twitch. " Grand institutions these are ! Once in 
 them, and you are snug as a bug in a rug. How would 
 people manage their crazy friends without them ? "
 
 OR, THE CRADLE OP LIBERTY. 1.75 
 
 Mr. Forresst went home after this peroration, and the 
 tip of his cane tapped cheerily at every impediment in 
 his path. He entered his elegant house in- a particularly 
 amiable mood, and rested his invincible person on a velvet 
 lounge, where he meditated in a self-satisfied frame of 
 mind. 
 
 " Upon my honor ! Does Chauncey Beale s son expect 
 to get the better of me ? " 
 
 Meantime the home-circle grew anxious. Letters from 
 Bella had ceased. A letter from the old mother, written 
 tremblingly, informed them that Bella was ill, and had 
 gone into the country for her health. Poor old mother ! 
 Overcome by the fate that had overtaken Bella, how could 
 she write otherwise than as Frederic dictated ? 
 
 " Mother," said he, " the girl is insane." 
 
 " It will break their hearts out West ! It will break my 
 heart ! " she answered. 
 
 "No, mother! You must summon more fortitude. As 
 to Edward, tell him she is ill, and gone into the country for 
 improvement. Upon my honor ! She causes us all suffi 
 cient trouble." 
 
 " 111 gone into the country for her health but why 
 does not she write to us ? " 
 
 That was the light, out West, in which the matter was 
 discussed. And the days passed on, giving them no more 
 news. Summer melted into autumn, autumn faded into 
 the cold that precedes winter. November whistled in pre 
 monitions, and still there were no more tidings. Anxiety 
 came in, and settled as a guest in the family. They con 
 sulted and surmised. 
 
 " She has yielded to Frederic, and given me up," said 
 Mortimer in a discouraged tone. 
 
 Edward clinched his fist. " More likely he has got her 
 into some tight place, the convent or Shakers again."
 
 176 BELLA ; 
 
 " And there is no Elijah there to help her," said the car 
 penter moodily. 
 
 " By jingo and all the coons," exclaimed Jack, starting 
 up. " If they have got lier again ! Just give me the 
 rhino, cap n ; and I ll go there, and dig her out, as surely 
 as I live to get there." 
 
 Mortimer looked thoughtfully at the boy, and then slowly 
 said, " I have a mind to go myself, Jack." 
 
 "No, no," Edward responded quickly. " This is Fred s 
 doings. You are no match for him. It takes a Forresst 
 to manage a Forresst. I will go myself." 
 
 "You, Edward! No. It is I who have caused her 
 trouble. It is for her truth to me that she suffers. Let me 
 go and work for her, or suffer with her." 
 
 Edward laughed. " Come, this is no time for sentiment. 
 Let the one go who can be most successful. I think I un 
 derstand my family better than you do. I have the same 
 blood as Fred ; and I ll fight him with his own cool 
 weapons." 
 
 "And I am poor," said Mortimer moodily, 
 
 "Pshaw, now! What matters it who has the money, 
 you or I ? You have been as a brother to me since we 
 toddled out of our cradles, and played horse astride our 
 sticks together. Do you. think I am going to desert you 
 now ? Besides, there is my Kate, you know. I haven t 
 made a spread about her; but, ever since I have had her ac 
 quaintance, she has been in my deepest thoughts, and we 
 may as well be married now as ever. So I ll come back 
 with my own bride and yours." 
 
 " Jolly ! " said Jack. " You are the man for us. You 
 are Bella s own brother." 
 
 " That is what I am, Jack. So lend a hand, all of you, 
 and I will be off." 
 
 The "leetle out o the way," of which their guide spoko
 
 OR, THE CRADLE OF LIBERTY. 177 
 
 I 
 
 when he told them of the Norwegian s home, was just 
 
 enough to make the mails a rarity not enjoyed every day ; 
 hut, the day after this conference, Elijah undertook the task 
 of going to the distant post-town for family supplies, and 
 also because there might be letters in waiting. He found 
 the precious missives ; and when he had brought them home, 
 and laid them on the plain table, the household gathered 
 as to a feast. Among them was a square envelope of large 
 dimensions, not scrupulously clean, and covered with "pot 
 hooks and angles." 
 
 "That is from Harry," said Edward. "Let s see what 
 the old fellow has to say." 
 
 He read it aloud, while the company listened. 
 
 " BOSTON, Nov. 16, 18. 
 
 "MY DEAR NED, As the girls say, I take my pen in 
 hand to inform you, not in girl s language, however, that 
 there is some confounded villany at work. Bella is in an 
 insane asylum. I " 
 
 " Hold ! " groaned Mortimer. " It cannot be ! Read it 
 again." And Edward read it again ; but it was just the 
 same, and he went on : "I have just come down from the 
 Aroostook, and am not posted in the way the thing was done ; 
 but Fred has managed it, and we must manage over him. If 
 she is insane, Fred has made her so. If you or Mortimer 
 want to do any thing about it, let it be quick. You will 
 find me on your side. HARRY." 
 
 Edward folded the letter, and said solemnly, " Let me 
 be off." 
 
 Two days after, as the November cold blew over the 
 prairies, and the iron horse steamed his way Eastward whilo 
 the breath of his nostrils curled in the frosty air, the noise 
 of his iron feet echoed in the ears of Edward Forresst. He 
 was on his homeward mission.
 
 178 BELLA ; 
 
 / 
 
 Shall we say that Mortimer was weak and deficient in 
 duty toward Bella during all this time ? We say nothing 
 on that point. We give the facts, and leave others to cen 
 sure or vindicate him, as they choose. Our pen has other 
 dutiea.
 
 OB, THE CEADLE OF LIBERTY. 179 
 
 CHAPTER XVII. 
 
 HE cold and frost and dreariness of November deep 
 ened around the asylum. Within, the pipes were 
 full of steam, and the furnaces, were kept full of 
 burning coal. The galleries were comfortably warm; 
 but the opened cells had only the warmth that came 
 through the doorways, and the locked cells had no warmth 
 at all. Those who sat lo*cked into them sat shivering, 
 with not a soul to whom they could speak, and not a single 
 diversion to occupy their minds, or turn their attention 
 from the thoughts of their own distress. Bella looked 
 through between her iron bars, and saw the trees with their 
 naked branches, and the brown earth bare and desolate. 
 No letter had come to her. The letters that had come from 
 the West had fallen into her guardian s hands, and had 
 gone into his private drawer. Bella longed for a letter, 
 for one little word from her friends ; and said to the assist 
 ant physician,. " Doctor, I think of my mother all the time. 
 She loved me, and she is an old lady. I think her heart 
 will be so sad for me." 
 
 "Why don t you write to her?" asked the physician. 
 " Of what use is it ? I have tried writing letters in this 
 place." 
 
 " Oh, but you were writing very improper letters ! You 
 were writing against us, and contrary to the wishes of your 
 guardian." 
 
 " My brother Frederic has no right to make himself my
 
 180 BELLA ; 
 
 guardian. He shut me up here; and now does just as he 
 pleases with all my property, and nobody seems to care." 
 
 " Oh, yes, Miss Forresst ! "VVe do care. We do not wish 
 to see injustice. Write a good letter to your mother, just 
 such a letter as will make her happy, and we will send it. 
 Don t fill it with complaints, but tell her you are doing 
 nicely, and mean to try to do well, and hope you will be 
 well enough to go back to her by and by, and conform to 
 the wishes of your friends." 
 
 " Doctor," said Bella, " it would be a series of false 
 hoods." 
 
 But she considered the matter; and there in her loneliness 
 she concluded to write. " Dear mother will be glad of any 
 thing from my pen," was her thought. 
 
 But it was not easy to say just what the doctor advised 
 her : she could not be so false ; and she wrote in her own 
 way, telling her mother how much she thought of her, and 
 keeping silent as regarded herself. 
 
 "It may not be a lie, but it is all a suppression of 
 truth," she observed, when she handed it to the doctor at 
 his next round. " Read it, please, and tell me whether it 
 will answer." 
 
 "It is a very good letter, Miss Forresst. I knew you 
 could write properly if you tried." 
 
 " It is just the same as a lie, doctor. There is nothing 
 true in it." 
 
 " Oh, pshaw ! You are not in your right mind yet. 
 Things look queer to you," 
 
 That was the only letter she succeeded in getting out of 
 the building. She could not and would not write soft, 
 smooth letters, such as many patients stooped to write, just 
 for the sake of getting a message to their friends. "It 
 must be truth or nothing," she said, " if I write." 
 
 Having all these restrictions about her, being compelled
 
 OR, THE CRADLE OP LIBERTY. 181 
 
 to stay where, day and night, she continued to see and 
 hear this life, her intelligent young mind roused into re 
 newed activity. She broke the hounds of prescribed silence, 
 and criticised openly. She even defied the supervisor ; and 
 one day, when an act of injustice passed before her, she 
 went boldly to the woman, and confronted her face to face. 
 She laid her hands on the two shoulders of the employee ; 
 and, looking straight into her eyes, she said, " Do you know 
 what you are about ? Do you realize that these women are 
 locked in here without power to get out, or to escape from 
 your temper or cruelties ? What is it that you mean ? " 
 
 For a moment the woman s eyes fell ; then she said, 
 " You know nothing about it, Miss Forresst. You do not 
 know how I am tried and aggravated and worried." 
 
 " I do know ; I see it all ; but I also know, that, if you 
 were kinder and less arbitrary, you would have far fewer 
 troubles, for we should all like you better." 
 
 There were, in this hall, many "chronic cases," as they 
 are called ; and Bella did not wonder they were chronic. 
 Said a workman who was repairing the hall, "I have work 
 ed for this institution twelve years; and, during all that time, 
 that woman has sat in that chair." He pointed to a woman 
 near. 
 
 Can we imagine it? For twelve years that woman had 
 sat in that one chair, eating her food from a corner of a 
 table that was guiltless of a cloth, sleeping on one of those 
 narrow cots that are put into the halls at night, and never 
 did she ride or walk. And yet she was not old nor a crip^ 
 pie nor ill, but seemed stricken with mental apathy: was 
 it wonderful that that apathy increased? 
 
 By the workings of the inner machinery, those who most 
 need privileges and attentions get the fewest. There are 
 carriages kept for patients to ride, but only the best dress 
 ed and healthy go in them. The same rule prevails with 
 16
 
 182 BELLA ; 
 
 walking, choice of rooms, and amusements. Those who 
 most need these recuperative agents are most deprived. 
 The best-furnished rooms are given to the employees or 
 servants, except in a few cases where the friends of some 
 person pay large prices, and make frequent visits to see 
 that the patient gets what was agreed. 
 
 Bella could not see the justice of these things ; and, as 
 the system was more fully revealed to her by her prolonged 
 stay, she became bolder in speech. She reasoned with the 
 matron, close-questioned the assistant doctor, and remon 
 strated with the superintendent. " I wish," he remarked, 
 " that people would not put these intelligent women into 
 my institution. I do not want them." 
 
 This remark was overheard, and carried to Bella. " Tell 
 him," she replied, " that these intelligent women do not 
 want to be here." 
 
 Persons of sensitive, high-nerved temperaments, confined 
 within restricted spaces, are often subject to peculiar hor 
 rors and strange sensations, that induce them to march, or 
 pace back and forth, or go in circuits, swift or slow, accord 
 ing to their natures. It is not alone the insane who do 
 this ; but it is an impulse that seizes the rational and 
 healthy when held in small, close spaces. We read of pris 
 oners in despotic countries, who have channelled paths in 
 their stone floors. In asylums, we do not have stone floors ; 
 but the patients pace, nevertheless, and often to their own 
 destruction. We may call this the prison-march ; or \ve 
 may call it the death-march, since it leads to death of the 
 soul. Those who follow it long can never be the same 
 afterwards. It becomes an infatuation, an outlet to the re 
 pressed emotions. At first it seems like a relief; in the 
 end it becomes paralysis, or wildness, or slow sinking into 
 apathy, or death : its termination depends upon the peculiar 
 natures of the individuals attacked. Patients are often
 
 OR, THE CRADLE OF LIBERTY. 183 
 
 seized with it, and often walk till their nerves are overcome. 
 In this asylum an educated, accomplished lady was seized 
 by these sensations. Her friends had been to visit her one 
 day. " She is doing finely," said the superintendent. 
 " She will go home soon." The friends went home de 
 lighted. The word " soon " seemed encouraging ; but to 
 the lady it had a different sound. She had known that 
 \vjrd prolonged to weeks, from weeks to months, and thence 
 to years, when applied to other patients. When her friends 
 were gone, she asked the superintendent, "Doctor, what do 
 you mean by soon ? When shall I go ? " 
 
 It was evening when she asked this. He replied, " Don t 
 worry ! You will go when you are better." 
 
 The lady s heart was stirred with deep, repressed emo 
 tions. She could not sleep that night. The next day she 
 began to pace from the piano to the wall, and from the wall 
 back to the piano. In a few days she paced up and down 
 the hall, and then in her room. Her senses seemed to* 
 benumb, and fail her. The attendants began to make sport 
 of her, then to weary of her ; and then they turned her out 
 into a back-yard. The enclosure resembled an old-fash 
 ioned impounding yard for unruly cattle. There was a tree 
 in the centre. She walked around and around this tree till 
 her feet channelled a path in the earth. Then she sat 
 down weary and listless. Two sides of the yard were made 
 by the walls of the asylum wings ; and crumbs were some 
 times thrown down from the windows. Out from beneath 
 the building, rats came. They ran across the woman s feet. 
 She had no energy or power to drive them away : but she 
 envied them their freedom ; and, when she saw them run 
 out at apertures beneath the fence, she thought them the 
 happiest of creatures. Faces came to the windows, and 
 looked down at her ; and she could hear people say, " Who 
 is that poor crazy thing ? " In her heart she answered,
 
 184 BELLA ; 
 
 "Who am I ? What does it matter now who I am ? The 
 beauty of my life is flown, the friends who knew me will 
 know me no more forever ! " Now she is a hopeless 
 maniac. 
 
 Wearied, worried, and worn, Bella was seized with this 
 infatuation. An old lady flew to her in alarm. " My dear 
 girl, do not walk ! I beg you to stop ! It will injure you 
 beyond recall ! " 
 
 " But I cannot keep still." 
 
 " You must keep still. I have seen a great deal of asy 
 lum life ; and I never saw one get well after long continu 
 ance of this death-march. Do not begin it. Hold yourself 
 quiet by some means. I know these hardships, my dear, 
 by sad experience ; but do not try to walk them off. You 
 will walk yourself into irretrievable ruin." 
 
 The old lady saved another at the same time. A woman 
 of middle life had sat three years in her cell without yield 
 ing to this impulse. Then she arose, and began to walk, to 
 and fro, to and fro, while her countenance assumed a pallor 
 and rigidity as of death. The old lady went to her, and 
 took her hands in hers. "Don t you know, my dear, what 
 you are doing ? Have you been here all this time without 
 seeing the effects of this marching?" 
 
 " I have seen," said the woman. " I know ; but I must 
 walk. When I came here they told me I was to stay three 
 months. I have sat still three years. Now let rne walk. 
 For what should I live? To stay here another three 
 years ? I would sooner lie down in my grave, and have it 
 over. I wish they had laid me on a funeral pyre before 
 they brought me here. I would rather be hung from the 
 gallows ; for then the struggle would soon end. Give me 
 any thing rather than this long, slow-torturing, prison- 
 life." 
 
 " I know," said the old lady, and an inexpressible pain
 
 OR, THE CRADLE OP LIBERTY. 185 
 
 passed over her brow, "I know all the trials of this place. 
 Yes, yes, I know, 
 
 But still I say to thee, 
 Fear not, but trust in Providence, 
 Wherever thou may st be. 
 
 Do not walk the walk of ruin. Do not lose your God." 
 
 " God " said the woman, and she did pause then. 
 " He is not within these walls. He stops outside." 
 
 " No ! " said the old lady. " He stops not. He is 
 here." 
 
 " But his laws are not here. His truth is not here." 
 
 "True," the old lady replied. "His truth cannot dwell 
 under such rules as govern this place ; but still I find him 
 here. Come with me, and I will show him to thee." 
 
 Then gently the old lady led her to her own room ; and 
 Bella heard the words of Holy Writ, and the voice of 
 prayer. And her heart said, " O . Father ! teach me also 
 to pray, that I may trust in thee, aud be quiet under this, 
 my great calamity." 
 
 The officers of asylums never mind this march. They 
 see patients pace and pace, and never take any notice of 
 them, or try to check the fatal proceeding. It is considered 
 " a part of their insanity." And when the suffering victims 
 are worn haggard or into wildness, they are put down into 
 lower halls, to be counted among the lost, living in wretch 
 edness, agony, and woe. 
 
 The old lady who saved Bella had saved many others 
 from yielding to this impulse. She was a kind old woman, 
 and her sympathies were tender ; but she could not always 
 keep patients bright and happy in such isolation. Nor 
 could Bella always endure. She felt exhausted and faint 
 with accumulated trials ; and, though she had learned the 
 hullowness of official promises, yet she could do no better, 
 and once more appealed to the superintendent. 
 
 16*
 
 186 . BELLA ; 
 
 " Doctor, when shall I get out of here ? " 
 
 He turned toward her, and replied, 
 
 " When you give up your foolish notions." 
 
 " What notions ? " 
 
 " About that man, I suppose." 
 
 Her eyes flashed. The Montague blue shone out from 
 the black, and the old English blood quickened in her 
 American soul. She flung back her raven curls with a toss 
 of her head, and the physician was startled as she looked 
 at him with her awakened nature. 
 
 " If you mean Mortimer Beale," she said, " and that I 
 am to stay here till" I give up my thoughts of him, you will 
 keep me till the end of my life; for neither you nor any 
 other person, neither this nor any other place, will ever 
 drive him from my mind. You cannot force me." 
 
 " We do riot wish to force you, Miss Forresst. We wish 
 you to use your own good sense ; and I have no doubt but 
 you will come out right by and by." 
 
 Bella thought long on this conversation. She seemed to 
 have a revelation by it. " So I am to stay here till I give 
 up my notions about Mortimer, and I can never do that. 
 I have known him from childhood. He is part of my life. 
 They may as well ask me to forget my mother, and Edward, 
 and myself, and my God ! I wonder what kind of a repre 
 sentation has been made to the doctor." 
 
 The days grew short and cold, and the nights were 
 long and tedious. The sounds of lamentation within, the 
 mournful winds without, the narrow room, and her own sad 
 heart, made the nights into periods of dread, when thought 
 piled on thought, and time seemed bitterness, and the " sil 
 ver clouds " lost their lining, and the " golden bowl " of 
 hope was broken.
 
 OR, THE CRADLE OF LIBERTY. 187 
 
 CHAPTER XVIII. 
 
 HE street was broad and airy, the houso modern 
 and elegant; and the sea-breezes, floating inward, 
 brought with them their own savory freshness. 
 Mrs. Nellie Bergmann lived in one of the pleasant 
 parts of Brooklyn, and was herself an ornament to 
 the place. She had her own standard by which she meas 
 ured society ; and Mr. Frederic need have no fear but her 
 standard was high enough to suit his most fastidious taste. 
 She was the personification of grace in manner, as she 
 reclined in her cushioned 1 - chair in conversation with the 
 young man by her side. His ruddy cheeks, full chest, and 
 healthy physique bespoke a man of the open air, one who 
 dwelt in it, and inhaled it, till his soul was broad as the 
 world, and his heart open as the day. He had been speak 
 ing; and Mrs. Bergmann replied, " Indeed, Edward, you 
 must not tell him." 
 
 "But, Nellie, if Bella is insane, your husband is the one 
 to know it. He is a man of judgment, and a skilful phy 
 sician. Let her case be submitted to him at once." 
 
 " But think of the disgrace, Edward." 
 
 " What disgrace ? " 
 
 "Of having my husband know that she is insane." 
 
 " I see no disgrace. If she has gone out of her mind, 
 there is a cause for it. Let us search for the cause. If it 
 is physical illness, who can prescribe more learnedly than 
 your husband? If Frederic has driven her to insanity, the
 
 BELLA ; 
 
 disgrace is his. Let us attend to him." Mrs. Nellie ad 
 justed the lace on her wrist, thus displaying a diamond 
 ring, and a marvellously beautiful bracelet. Then she said, 
 "Edward, I do hope you will not mention this to my hus 
 band. He heartily despises family disagreements." 
 
 " Very well," the young man responded, rising. " I have 
 hastened East purposely to aid my imprisoned sister. If I 
 can be of no service to her here, I will leave my regards 
 for your husband, and go on to try what next I can do." 
 
 " But you will stay and dine ? " 
 
 "No. I think aloud sometimes: I might unfortunately 
 say something that would shock you. I should be think 
 ing of Bella : I might speak my thoughts." 
 
 " You think too favorably of her, Edward. She has 
 caused us all great trouble by her obstinacy." 
 
 " You mean that you have caused her great trouble by 
 your meddling," returned Edward. 
 
 Mrs. Nellie tapped her foot impatiently, precisely as she 
 used to tap it when she was Miss Nellie Forresst, except 
 that now she tapped it beneath a slipper of greater elegance, 
 and on a carpet of more costly material. 
 
 "Edward, Bella is insane. Frederic had the names of 
 two physicians who certified to that effect. Is not that 
 sufficient evidence ? " 
 
 "No: it is not sufficient. Certificates can be bought, 
 or obtained in various ways. I would not trust a phy 
 sician s certificate unless I knew how it was obtained, and 
 whether he was competent to give it. Nor would I trust 
 Frederic, if he is my brother. We cannot always trust 
 brothers. I shall go to Boston, God willing, and shall in 
 vestigate the whole case." 
 
 With a sturdy farewell, the young man left his sister ; 
 and with his heart in his work, and his mind on its exe 
 cution, he hastened on. The wintry winds and freezing air
 
 OB, THE CEADLE OF LIBERTY. 189 
 
 made no impression on him. His soul was nerved by a 
 higher thought than the elements, or bodily comfort. 
 
 But of his movements Bella knew nothing. To her it 
 was as though all the world had forgotten her ; as though 
 she had died, and yet lived, lived to know that she was 
 dead. There was no world for her except that little space 
 within that locked and barred enclosure. There were no 
 people, or society, or friends for her, except such as were 
 within that hall. Natural life was losing its meaning. 
 Her heart was quivering and withering ; the winter of de 
 spair was coming. She was ill one morning. The at 
 tendant said Miss Forresst had taken cold ; so said the 
 matron ; and so said the physician, no wiser than the 
 others. Her brow was hot, her hands and feet were cold. 
 She had pain in her bones, pains all over her, but, most 
 of all, pain in her heart. The asylum physicians and em- 
 ployees saw her physical condition ; they said she was fever 
 ish ; but no one saw or thought of her heart, her affections, 
 or her desires. All the intellectual and soul parts of peo 
 ple are ignored by asylum treatment. The assistant phy 
 sician walks through each morning, and, parrot-like, repeats 
 certain stereotyped questions ; but they are all questions 
 relative to physical conditions, and of the plainest parts of 
 those. The soul and spiritual natures are utterly passed 
 over ; and " treatment " is only given to the most super 
 ficial, plainly-apparent, physical disturbances. 
 
 Annie saw that Bella was ill ; and she did for her just as 
 she would have done for a sister at home, as far as was in 
 her power. But she had few conveniences for taking care 
 of the ill : the hall was barren of comforts for the sick, 
 as of food for the well. Every thing medicinal, even the 
 simplest herbs, were locked in the dispensary ; and there 
 was no way to procure a cup of gruel, or one taste of some 
 thing nice, or one extra necessity, except to send down
 
 1 JO BELLA ; 
 
 through a series of official channels, a series often worked 
 on a circumlocution plan, by which what was needed at 
 the moment reached the patient after hours of delay. 
 
 Annie had no patience with such ways of caring for sick 
 people. She looked at Bella a moment, and said, " Don t 
 try to get up. You have taken cold, I fear. I do wish I 
 had something to give you, but there is absolutely nothing. 
 The doctor will be through soon, however." 
 
 He came. Bella heard him unlock the doors of the soli 
 tary, and give them the customary glance. She heard him 
 approach her own door. " Ah ! " said he, looking in, " how 
 is this ? " 
 
 " Annie thinks I have taken cold," was the reply. 
 
 An application was made to the pulse. " Ah ! rather 
 quick. Now your tongue. Yes, I see. Nothing seri- 
 , ous, Miss Forresst. When did you take your last bath ? " 
 
 Now, Bella had heard questionings and orders and com 
 mands about baths till she was disgusted. It seemed that 
 her keepers thought a dip into their baths was a sovereign 
 remedy. They used the bath to cure religious diseases, 
 domestic diseases, love-diseases, and all other soul-troubles. 
 She looked up at the physician quickly. "Doctor, do you 
 think I came here to learn to bathe ? Do not you suppose 
 I knew something of that sanitary and healthful art before 
 I entered your institution ? " 
 
 " Yes, yes ; but then there is nothing better. I will see 
 that you have a bath immediately." 
 
 He went into the hall ; and Bella heard him say to Annie, 
 " As soon as possible I wish you to give Miss Forresst a 
 bath. Draw the water as hot as she can bear it. I will 
 send up some salt to put in it." 
 
 The physician passed along ; and Annie entered Bella s 
 room. Bella looked up at her. " I heard it, Annie. If I 
 must go through it, let me go by myself."
 
 OR, THE CEADLE OF LIBERTY 191 
 
 " I dare not," said Annie. " I must obey the doctor s 
 orders, however disagreeable." 
 
 " But, Annie, do you think you can bathe my heart-sick 
 ness and my home-sickness out of me ? " 
 
 " No, Miss Forresst, I do not. If salt-water would cure 
 trouble, the sea would be full of bathers. I think there is 
 but one remedy for you ; and it is not here. All that we 
 do injures you in this place." 
 
 Just then a heavy step was heard ; and a large, middle- 
 aged woman appeared, bearing a bowl of rock-salt. Her 
 voice was coarse and strong ; and she did not repress it as 
 she said, " Dorctor sent this to put in Miss Forresst s bath. 
 Dorctor said as how I d better stay and rub her, cause it 
 ought ter be done moity hard." 
 
 Annie cast a glance at Bella, and she glanced back. The 
 two girls then understood each other. " Dorctor " must be 
 obeyed, or " dorctor s " messenger would go back and report. 
 
 That was a fearful bath. The salt was duly dissolved in 
 the hot water, and the patient thoroughly immersed. Then 
 the woman began the " moity hard rubbing." With one 
 hand she held Bella down, with the other she scrubbed, till 
 the patient was uncertain whether she had a skin, or 
 whether it was rolled off into the water. 
 
 " I should think that was sufficient," Annie said at 
 length. " She can t bear too much." 
 
 " Too much ! Why, Lor* bless ye ! I ve been moity 
 easy, cause her skin seems so tender and baby-like ! You 
 ought ter see me rub some of the patients, when I put in 
 the whole strength of my arms ! Why, I could fetch either 
 o you to blisters ! You wouldn t need no mustard draughts. 
 Ha, ha, ha ! " 
 
 " Oh, don t ! " said Bella, shrinking involuntarily. 
 
 " No, I don t tend to ! But I must do my duty ; else 
 what sort o a report could I make to dorctor ? "
 
 192 BELLA ; 
 
 Bella was silent. She remembered what she heard in 
 the bath-room a few days previous. She knew now whose 
 voice it was that had spoken those words. What she heard 
 was this : " Git in there, I say, moity quick ! " There came 
 from the patient a tone of remonstrance. Then the voice 
 said again, " Don t care nothing about yer bolderdash ! Git 
 in there ! Dorctor says you are to take a bath, and I reckon 
 you will ! So git in ! " 
 
 A gurgling sound and a splash followed. A strong arm 
 had pitched the patient in. Again there was a remon 
 strance, this time more earnest. The remonstrance was 
 followed by blows. Heavy, thick, and fast the blows fell ; 
 but not a groan was uttered. Bella had held her breath 
 during those blows. She marvelled who was in the bath 
 room, and began to look about the hall to see who was miss 
 ing. Then she heard the voice say, "Wall, you ll stand 
 more poundin than anybody I ever see in my life." No 
 one replied to these words ; but in a moment more there 
 was more pounding ; and Annie, coming to Bella, said in 
 an undertone, " I do believe tliat nurse will kill Mrs. Brown." 
 
 " Mrs. Brown ! " exclaimed Bella. " Is it possible that 
 that poor little Mrs. Brown is taking all those blows ? " 
 
 " Yes," was Annie s response. " That big nurse has got 
 her locked into the bath-room, and she is pounding her all 
 this time." 
 
 " Annie, this place is horrible ! " 
 
 " It is indeed," said Annie. " It is so horrible that I 
 shall leave it. I shall give my notice before many days." 
 
 A cloud came over Bella s brow. " There you have the 
 advantage over me, Annie. We live here in friendly inter 
 course ; but you are a free girl. I am bound. When the 
 place becomes unbearable to you, you can leave it. I must 
 stay, and still stay ; and who knows whether I shall ever 
 get away ? "
 
 OR, THE CRADLE OF LIBERTY. 193 
 
 Both Bella and Annie thought of this conversation as 
 they were now in the bath-room with this same nurse ; and 
 both submitted to her requirements lest there should now 
 be some demonstration of her strength. 
 
 " Thar, I m done ! " said the woman at length. " The 
 dorctor he ll be satisfied with my work, I think ! I m a 
 moity smart un on these patients, I tell ye ! You can go 
 to yer room now. I ve got to go to nother hall." 
 
 Whether the bathing was too much or too little, it proved 
 not a cure. Bella was worse after it ; and the fever, instead 
 of being rubbed out, was well rubbed in. Young and 
 healthy as was Bella, with scarcely a day s illness that she 
 could remember, she would not have broken thus beneath a 
 slight cold, if her affections had not been tried beyond her 
 powers of resistance. She had by nature a fervent, warm, 
 outgushing heart, and men were trying to crush out of her 
 that which her God had put within her. By their bolts 
 and bars and legal statutes they were depriving her of her 
 inherent rights to " life, liberty, and the pursuit of happi 
 ness." Her eyes became full of delirious anxiety, and her 
 lips parched with her heated breath. She talked of Morti 
 mer, murmured of going, going, and called " Mother," 
 " Mother," " Dear mother ! " in her fevered sleep. 
 
 Meantime the cold deepened. The ice-king was hasten 
 ing apace. Boston, full of hope and energy, had fires glow 
 ing in its furnaces and grates. Women wore their furs, 
 and men walked in overcoats, stepping briskly in the clear, 
 cold wind. Boston looked solid without, and felt solid 
 within, as it smiled in its carpeted rooms, and read in its 
 newspapers notices of current events. Amusements, con 
 certs, and lecturers were flourishing, and charity was not 
 forgotten. 
 
 In a large easy-chair, in a richly-furnished chamber of a 
 luxurious house, with her feet on a hassock, and her head 
 17
 
 194 BELLA ; 
 
 resting quietly back, reclined an old lady. Her hands were 
 folded in her lap, and her silver-streaked hair was smoothly 
 parted over her high, clear forehead. She was a proud- 
 looking woman, and yet her eyes were love-lit, and her face 
 serene. Two cherubs were playing near. One looked up 
 at the old lady, and said, " Hus, teep still ! dramma 
 sleep ! " 
 
 The other looked up, and said, "No: dramma make 
 b leve sleep. I see dramma peep." 
 
 The old lady smiled ; and at that moment the door-bell 
 rang. 
 
 " Who tome ? " exclaimed the cherubs ; and away they 
 bounded into the hall. The next moment they were hang 
 ing to the balustrade, and looking cautiously down to see 
 who should appear. A servant opened the outer door, and 
 the voice of a man was heard. Then there were steps in 
 at the door ; the servant made some slight remark, and the 
 man replied, " Don t trouble yourself. I will leave my coat 
 here, and run right up to her chamber." 
 
 At that voice the old lady started, her hands unclasped, 
 her eyes flew open, and she stood upright. She was old no 
 longer. Her eyes grew bright, and her step was elastic as 
 she went lightly through the door. She reached the head 
 of the stairs. A man was bounding up. Two steps at a 
 t-ime he came, his broad shoulders, broad face, and brown 
 whiskers seeming as wings to uplift him. He spread his 
 arms; the old lady fell into them; and while he cried, 
 " My mother ! " she cried, " My son ! Edward ! my son, 
 my son ! " 
 
 Then Mrs. Boynton came, and gave her brother a cordial 
 welcome. She was not a heartless woman, except when 
 fashion ruled her with its dogmatical decrees; and fashion 
 did not ostracize a man like Edward Forresst, even though 
 he had made his home in a wilderness. He was a grace
 
 OR, THE CRADLE OF LIBERTY. 195 
 
 to the wilderness. Its freshness gave him health ; its 
 rusticity seemed not to touch him. Nothing in his dress 
 or manners offended Mrs. Boynton s cultivated taste, and 
 he was in no way out of keeping now as he passed through 
 her elegant hall to his mother s room. She wished that 
 Harry was like him ; but bluff Harry would never con 
 form to conventionalities. He would not live in a city. 
 He loved the open country, the wild, free woods, and life 
 in simplicity as he found it there. Nature had endowed 
 him with every attribute of manliness, and he had not 
 sullied one of Nature s gifts. In integrity and sturdy 
 strength of character, he was " every inch a man," and 
 bowed to no bondage, not even to the forms of society. 
 To Mrs. Boynton he was a constant trouble. His boots 
 were too thick, the cloth he wore was too heavy, and he 
 sat awkwardly in her elegant chairs. Reproofs for his 
 misdemeanors he received with a laugh, but did not re 
 form; and Mrs. Boynton was forced to consider him her 
 incorrigible brother. 
 
 In the evening, after Edward s arrival, three brothers 
 sat in Mrs. Boynton s private parlor. One was thoroughly 
 attired, with his waxed mustache pointed artistically; 
 the second was square-shouldered and firm, free in action 
 as the breezes of the woods ; the third was graceful, but 
 ruddy-brown with the Western winds. Opposite the three 
 sat Mrs. Forresst and the fashionable Mrs. Boynton. 
 
 In his own resonant tones Edward remarked, "I was 
 never so surprised as when I read that letter. You know, 
 Frederic, that Bella is not insane. You have played 
 false." 
 
 " I know that she was committing a very insane act. 
 Upon my honor ! I thought it best to arrest her before 
 she should throw herself away, and squander our father s 
 patrimony."
 
 196 BELLA ; 
 
 " The money that father left her wis as much hers as 
 yours that he left you, or mine that he left me! "said 
 Edward. 
 
 "Let her keep it, then," Mr. Frederic replied. "It 
 cannot be used to enrich Chauncey Beale s son." 
 
 " You prefer that it should enrich an insane hospital." 
 
 " Until she is restored to her senses, I do." 
 
 Mrs. Forresst sighed as she looked upon her children 
 " Alas ! " she said, " that I should live to this day, when 
 one of my children unlawfully holds another in prison ! " 
 
 " Your pardon, madam," said Mr. Frederic bowing to his 
 mother, " it is not unlawful." 
 
 " In the sight of God it is unlawful. Men s laws aro 
 frail constructions." 
 
 " Again I ask your pardon, madam. We may differ as 
 to our views of God. I feel it my duty to save Bella from 
 throwing herself away." 
 
 " Which you are doing by holding her in a confinement 
 that is worse than throwing her away." 
 
 A tear glimmered in the eye of old Mrs. Forresst. She 
 did not attempt to wipe it away, and Frederic responded, 
 " I regret, mother, that you should feel this so deeply, since 
 it is a necessity." 
 
 " Enough of that," interposed Harry. " Bella is coming 
 out of there ! You say you are going to see her to-morrow, 
 Edward ? " 
 
 I shall." 
 
 " Fetch her out with you ; that s all." 
 
 " You forget, perhaps, that I am her legal guardian," 
 said Mr. Frederic. 
 
 " I do not forget that you have procured for yourself 
 that honor. We will see about the guardianship after 
 ward." 
 
 The mustache twitched, and then settled firmly. 
 Frederic replied again,
 
 OR, THE CRADLE OP LIBERTY. 197 
 
 "Perhaps you are not aware, that, as she was consigned 
 uader the forms of law, she can only be taken away legally. 
 The institution has no right to surrender her to every 
 passing caller." 
 
 " I shall take her hy the rights of a brother," said 
 Edward in a clear, ringing voice.- 
 
 Mrs. Boynton arose, and the rustle of her dress seemed 
 as a quieting breeze. " That will do," she said softly. 
 " You are worrying mother too much." 
 
 Edward cast a glance at the old lady, and said, " For 
 give, me, mother. I will say no more, but I will do my 
 duty." 
 
 They talked of other subjects then, but did not forget ; 
 and, when they parted before retiring, Harry quietly 
 grasped Edward s hand, " Go ahead, I am with you." 
 
 That was all he said, but Edward felt strengthened by 
 the words. Frederic walked home, apparently alone. No 
 one said, " I am with you." And yet Frederic was not 
 alone. He had an ally more powerful than a brother. 
 That ally was the locked institution founded by the laws 
 of his own native State, and claiming these laws as a 
 shield in all its usurpations. On the breast of the old 
 Commonwealth lies the cradle in which our liberties have 
 been rocked. Now that liberty has grown, shall we build 
 prisons in her eyries, and permit brother to hold brother in 
 bondage ? Let the States of our Union ask this question, 
 for the Commonwealth is not alone in its mistake. 
 
 The following morning, clear and cold, saw Edward 
 Forresst on his way to the asylum where his sister was 
 held. He remembered that sister as she used to be, a 
 frolicsome girl making his youth merry ; and his heart 
 warmed with his boyish love as the train hurried him to 
 the town where the asylum was located. He took no car 
 riage when he left the cars ; but, with strong steps, ha 
 17*
 
 198 BELLA ; 
 
 clanked his boot-heels over the frozen ground. The air 
 was cold, but what of that ? The great building was in 
 view, and Bella was in it. He drew near it, entered its 
 yard, and, hurrying in at the main door, inquired for Miss 
 Bella Forresst. 
 
 Asylum officials become very expert in reading the coun 
 tenances of visitors to patients. They saw at once that 
 Miss Forresst s visitor was a man whom they could not 
 easily delude, and with whom they dared not trifle. There 
 was no use in telling him that " it would be better for the 
 patient not to see her friends," nor to tell him any thing 
 but the bare truth. He was honest in his love for his 
 sister, and they saw it. He was too discerning to be duped, 
 and they saw that also. Therefore, not having any sub 
 terfuge concocted for the emergency, they told him frankly 
 that Bella was ill, and took him up to see her. He followed 
 an official up the winding stairs, stopped while she un 
 locked and re-locked the doors, and filled with indignation 
 as he saw the close prison in which his own beloved sister 
 was held. He passed the rows of cells, passed the sad, 
 dispirited women, and his free nature recoiled. The broad, 
 breezy West had scarcely fitted him for this cloister of 
 men s devising. It seemed utterly unnatural, and had a 
 dismal look of darkness in his eyes. 
 
 As he passed from corridor to corridor, the eyes of the 
 women followed him. There was a free and easy briskness 
 in his step, a self-possession in his manner, and a genial 
 heartiness on his countenance, that instinct. vely attracted 
 the attention of all. " Who is he ? " " Who has he come 
 to see ? " These were the questions that passed from lip to 
 lip. 
 
 We will not describe the meeting between this brother 
 and sister : why use awkward words to tell that which can 
 be felt, but not described. Nor can we repeat much of their
 
 OR, THE CRADLE OP LIBERTY. 
 
 conversation during the interview, nor depict with vivid 
 ness the sensations of the brother as he sat by her bed, with 
 her soft hand lying in his, and her pale face before him. 
 He was not only pained, but shocked, and roused to stern 
 denunciations. 
 
 " Is it possible ! " he exclaimed. " I had no idea that we 
 tolerate laws under which such reckless perfidy can find 
 shelter ! We have just had a war to liberate our colored 
 bond-people what shall we do for our white sufferers ? " 
 The eyes of the soldier dilated with the intensity of his 
 emotions, and he felt that his country was still not thor 
 oughly free. 
 
 " I meant to take you to Boston with me to-day," he 
 remarked at length. " I did not expect to find you ill." 
 
 " Only to Boston ? " she asked anxiously. 
 
 " Only there to-day ; but when I go back, I hope la belle 
 Bella will go." 
 
 " I shall be well in a few days." 
 
 "I hope so, Bella; for I cannot go back home without 
 you: I promised Mortimer you should go. You do not 
 know how much he thinks of you." 
 
 " I know how much I think of him. Not all the arts of 
 this place can drive him from my mind." 
 
 Then Edward described his Western home, and depicted 
 its future. He told her of Elijah and Emily and Jack, 
 and how Mortimer felt meanly at not coming on himself; 
 " but," continued the young man, " I told him it was better 
 that I should come ; for I understand Frederic, and I shall 
 not go back without you. Do not fear." 
 
 When Edward left, he told the attendant and asylum 
 officers that Bella would leave in a few days, or as soon 
 as she was able, and it was a subject of rejoicing among 
 the patients. Nothing creates such thrills of joy in 
 these halls as to know that one of their number is to be
 
 200 BELLA ; 
 
 released. She who is soon to go is looked upon as sacred. 
 The halo of freedom seems about her, and an invisible 
 light irradiates her. The more the patients love her, the 
 more do they rejoice in the good fortune that has come to 
 her. Though they know they shall never see her again, 
 yet they are glad she is going; for is it not freedom to 
 which she is hastening? 
 
 A slaveholder, in the presence of Isaac T. Hopper and 
 another Friend, remarked that his slaves were happy. 
 " Friend," said the Quaker, " give thee a palace, enclose it 
 in a ten-acre lot, plant it all round with Lombardy poplars, 
 and ornament it with beauty, and give thee thy pen and ink, 
 and thy books that thou lovest so well, and shut thee up 
 within it, and thou. wouldst look over the wall with longing 
 eyes." 
 
 And just such longing as this our physicians prescribe 
 for restoring injured minds 1
 
 OB, THE CRADLE OF LIBERTY. 201 
 
 CHAPTER XIX. 
 
 DWAED EOEEESST returned to Boston with a 
 keen sense of Bella s situation. " It is enough to 
 drive her crazy to stay there," he said to his moth- 
 er, " and it has made her ill, else I should have 
 brought her back with me to-day." 
 
 " I feared it," the mother replied. " I told Erederic, if 
 he was not careful, he would make the child insane." 
 
 " I believe she would be after a time," Edward returned ; 
 " but she is only feverish now. She brightened wonderful 
 ly when I told her I had come for her; that I should take 
 her out fn season to prepare herself to be present at my 
 wedding ; and that then she should go on with me, and 
 there would be another wedding. When I came away, she 
 seemed like a new person ; and we ll have her out of there in 
 a few days." 
 
 Edward told Harry his plans ; and Harry said, " Go 
 ahead. Get her out, and I am with you." 
 
 But Erederic sniffed the air like a wild Arab steed. His 
 curling lip went upward, and his eyes flashed defiance. In 
 business circles he was "known as a man of uncompromising 
 energy, invincible will in conquering difficulties, and stern 
 in the hour of danger. He never turned his back to ob 
 stacles ; and all the qualities that carried him over the 
 waves of business bore him on in this matter now. He 
 went to the house of Mrs. Boynton. 
 
 " Eunice," said he, "what is that boy doing? Does he
 
 202 BELLA ; 
 
 expect that he is going to take that girl from where I have 
 put her for safe keeping, and carry her to the wilds with 
 him ? I am the eldest of my father s family, and who will 
 direct these children if I do not? " 
 
 " We can scarcely call Edward and Bella children," Mrs. 
 Boynton replied. 
 
 " Upon .my honor, Eunice, they act like children, or like 
 simple young people, trying to make romance out of a very 
 practical part of their lives. I want you to use a little 
 common sense, Eunice. I want you to go and ascertain, 
 and hring back word to me, that I may know what Edward 
 did and said there, and whether those people suppose they 
 are to let her go out of there without her guardian s con 
 sent. Edward is not her legal guardian : I am." 
 
 Even when Eunice and Frederic were children, there 
 were times when she yielded an involuntary submission to 
 his will. Such a time had corne to her now, and Frederic 
 knew that he had this power over her. He knew that she 
 would not question this mandate, issued in his most 
 princely way. He went out of the house confident that 
 she would be his faithful agent. 
 
 In early winter, when late autumn is struggling for a 
 breath more of warmth, there are days that partake of 
 autumn s mellowness blended with winter s elastic clear 
 ness. On such days ladies appear out in costumes befit 
 ting the weather, and the bright sun welcomes them in 
 brief, coquettish smiles. On such a day a lady ascended 
 the asylum steps. A bonnet of velvet and a feathery 
 spray lay on the top of her stylishly-dressed hair, a double- 
 frilled travelling skirt floated coquettishly above her boots, 
 and from her gloved hand there hung a reticule of costly 
 elegance. The front asylum doors swung wide on their 
 hinges, and the porter bowed blandly as she passed in. 
 The style and richness of her apparel, her innate self-
 
 OK, THE CRADLE OP LIBERTY. 203 
 
 possession, and her quiet assumption of superiority, were 
 sure passports to attention. The lowest of bows, and most 
 flattering words, were showered upon her in the office. 
 With a grace that was all her own, she inquired for her 
 sister, Miss Bella Forresst ; and with a grace that was all 
 their own, they replied to her inquiries, and conducted her 
 through the halls to Bella s room. She glanced not around 
 as she went, but passed through with that peculiar air that 
 seems not to see what all know must be seen, or it could 
 not be thus avoided. Such cognizance is an indefinable, 
 acquired art. 
 
 Bella had been very happy that morning. Since the 
 visit of Edward, she had recuperated wonderfully ; for she 
 had been drinking the elixir of hope. Blessed hope ! 
 Sweet cordial of the soul, pure nectar of life! Thou art 
 more than medicine, thou art life. 
 
 On the strength of hope Bella had arisen, and light was 
 once more coming back to her eyes. " In a few days I shall 
 go home ; yes, in a few days I shall go home." These 
 were the talisrtlanic words that were flitting through her 
 mind as a shadow darkened her door, and a voice spoke. 
 
 " Miss Forresst a lady to see you ! 
 
 Bella looked up. " Eunice why Eunice is it indeed 
 you ? I am so glad." 
 
 The patients who heard it said, " It is Miss Forresst s 
 sister, come to take her away." They had no thought that 
 the beautiful lady was an agent, a spy. 
 
 Mrs. Boynton laid her bonnet on the narrow bed, a bed 
 she would not have given to a servant in her house ; and 
 then she sat down on the other bed, sat down as coolly as 
 if it had been a sofa standing there. No remark, no cen 
 sure of the place, nor apology for permitting Bella to stay 
 in it, escaped her. She opened her reticule ; and, after the 
 fashion of people who visit friends in these places, she took
 
 204 BELLA ; 
 
 out the bonbons, fruit, and delicacies she had brought, as 
 though people could be kept imprisoned at starvation s 
 point for weeks and months, and then be made happy by a 
 few sweetmeats ! 
 
 Bella looked on with surprise. " What do I want with 
 those, Eunice ? Am not I going home ? " 
 
 "Not to-day, Bella; not till you are well. I came to see 
 how you are. You are ill, they tell me." 
 
 " I am well enough to go home with you, Eunice. This 
 place makes me ill. Let me be out, and I shall be well. I 
 need to go out." 
 
 " Then, why not go out here ? There are attendants to 
 walk with you I suppose." 
 
 Bella looked up earnestly. " Eunice, I do not want to go 
 out here ! I want my freedom ! Why am I held as a prison 
 er ? Why was I taken from home as a felon ? By what 
 right does Frederic hold me in this bondage ? " 
 
 " Don t get excited, Bella. Keep calm." 
 
 " Put yourself in my position, and see if you could keep 
 calm," said the prisoner. " Just try it ! That is all I 
 ask." 
 
 " I know your position is very trying," Mrs. Boynton 
 replied ; " but you brought it upon yourself by your persist 
 ency in your absurd course." 
 
 " Eunice," said Bella, " when you wanted to marry Mr. 
 Boynton, was it absurd ? " 
 
 With a stifled scream the lady lifted her two hands. 
 " Don t, Bella ! do not compare Mr. Boynton with the man 
 you have chosen ! It is absolutely shocking ! I could 
 never, never have descended to such a choice ! " 
 
 Then it was that Bella stood up straight in her prison 
 cell, in the narrow passage between the two beds. Into 
 her eyes came the fire of determination ; into her face shot 
 the proud old spirit of ancestral inheritance; her head
 
 OB, THE CKADLE OF LIBERTY. 206 
 
 placed itself erect on her firm, white neck, and her long 
 ringlets floated back of her round shoulders as she answer 
 ed, " Eunice, if you have come here to force me or to 
 frighten me till I yield to Frederic, know this : You have 
 come on the most fruitless errand you ever undertook. I 
 have been driven hither and hither ; I have been scolded, 
 and commanded, and my youth has been a broken pathway ; 
 but my heart is still true as a needle to the pole, and you 
 can never turn it by any such means as you use. You are 
 too late now in trying to change my mind. I have suffered 
 for Mortimer ; and, if I cannot marry him on earth, I will 
 wait and marry him in heaven." 
 
 There was a sublimity in every lineament of the patient s 
 face. Her two hands were folded on her breast, her brow 
 was calm, her lips firm, and her pulse beat with full, strong, 
 and clear vibrations. 
 
 For several moments Mrs. Boynton did not speak. When 
 she did, it was on some trifling subject of dress. She ap 
 peared not to have heard the words of her young sister, or, 
 if she did hear, to regard them as a summer tale, to be for 
 gotten as the changing breeze. 
 
 But the banker s wife did not forget. When she was 
 passing out of the asylum, she paused at the office, that 
 official room where the destinies of human beings are de 
 cided as coolly as though no soul or immortality was attached 
 to our existence, and men had a right to dispose of each 
 other as their finite fancies and judgments see fit. 
 
 Mrs. Boynton here expressed her regrets that her sister 
 was no better, suggested that her correspondence be care 
 fully guarded, as her brother was extremely anxious that 
 she be protected against the influence of certain obnoxious 
 persons, and so on. Mrs. Boynton knew exactly how to 
 express her meaning, without saying too much ; and, when 
 she was gone, the asylum officials vied in her praise. 
 
 18
 
 206 BELLA ; 
 
 "So elegant in manners," "So exquisite in costume," 
 " So delicate in expression," " So careful not to say that it 
 was a lover from whom they were shielding Miss Bella." 
 Mrs. Boynton might have blushed at her praises had she 
 been a listener; but then, people who listen are seldom 
 the ones who hear good of themselves. It was best that 
 Mrs. Boynton could not listen, even to her own praises. 
 
 She went home with her report. " Frederic, you will 
 never overcome her obstinacy. You may as well let her go 
 with Edward." 
 
 " Upon my honor, Eunice ! You have the weakness of a 
 woman ! Let her marry Beale indeed ! " 
 
 " I formed my opinion from her own words. She told 
 me directly, that, if she could not marry him on earth, she 
 would marry him in heaven." 
 
 " Heaven ! ha ! Well, we are not there yet. At 
 present we are dealing with earth." 
 
 Mr. Frederic bowed himself out from his sister s house, 
 and walked home. The evening lights shed their rays upon 
 him ; and he soliloquized. " In heaven ! I do not under 
 stand those ethereal marriages. Ha, ha ! It is quite pro 
 phetic love this of theirs." 
 
 In the asylum Bella laid her head on her pillow. The 
 thorn of bitterness had come back to pierce her. The hope 
 that Edward gave, Eunice had taken away. Annie came 
 to her softly, and tried to comfort her; but her sorrow lay 
 too deep for her to soothe. 
 
 " Annie," said the supervisor, " put Miss Forresst at 
 tvork." 
 
 " I do not think she is able : I should not like to ask 
 her," was Annie s gentle response. 
 
 " La ! you need not feel delicate about her ! Some 
 thing has got to be done to keep her in order. Her folks 
 don t want her at home, that is plain. Her sister did not
 
 OR, THE CRADLE OF LIBERTY. 207 
 
 say so, but she might as well. We could all see what she 
 meant ; and she is a splendid lady ! I think it is a shame 
 for Bella to give her so much trouble." 
 
 " But what shall I have her do ? There are more 
 women in the dining-room than I need now." 
 
 " Put her into the hall, or send her into the sewing-room, 
 or let her work for yourself. Any thing to keep her busy." 
 
 Annie considered ; and recollecting the embroidery she 
 had seen among Bella s clothes, and knowing that patients 
 who could do any fine or fancy work were always taxed 
 by the attendants, she went into Bella s room, in her own 
 soft, loving way, and said, "Miss Forresst, didn t you tell 
 me that your embroidery was your own work ? " 
 
 " Yes ; I always do my own. I learned in the convent." 
 
 " Will you do some for me, if I will get the materials ? 
 I should like some as a token of remembrance." 
 
 Bella hesitated. " I may not have time to do much, 
 Annie ; for, notwithstanding my sister, I believe in Edward. 
 I know he will come for me." 
 
 " If he comes, you can leave the work, and go ; and I will 
 follow you with my love, and keep the stitches you have 
 taken as a token of the happiness I have had with you, for 
 you have been a comfort to me, Miss Forresst. This life is 
 weariness for me, as for you. I cannot shut my sympathies 
 away from my patients, as most attendants do." 
 
 And Bella kissed Annie, and said, " I will work for you." 
 
 Whoever passed Bella s door, in the days that followed, 
 might have seen her bending over the fine embroidery, her 
 skilled needle going through the cambric in patient stitches. 
 It brought back remembrances of Natinitie, and Matildie, 
 and Lola who fled with him of the glorious eyes. Where 
 was Lola now ? And then her thoughts would roam away 
 from that to the home where Elijah and Emily waited, and 
 Mortimer was preparing for her.
 
 208 BELLA ; 
 
 One of the women who had seen much experience in these 
 halls watched her opportunity, and stealthily followed 
 Bella into the bath-room. Closing the door by shutting a 
 paper within the marginal space, she said earnestly and 
 emphatically, " Don t you do it ! Don t you work for one 
 of them. You may work, and work, and work, till you are 
 tired and sick; and you will get no privileges, nor even 
 thanks in return. These girls are hired here. They are 
 paid by the institution. They stay until they replenish their 
 pockets, get all they can out of the patients, and. then 
 go again. They do not care what becomes of us who are 
 left behind ; and when the patients become worn out, and 
 can no longer work, then they are crowded back, jostled out 
 of the way, told they are crazy old things, and trampled on 
 as though they had no feelings. I know a woman who has 
 earned more than two thousand dollars for this institution ; 
 and, if she was justly compensated, she would receive that 
 amount ; and yet she cannot get even one small favor. The 
 other day she asked the supervisor to let her go into the 
 uext hall to see a woman there whom she knows ; and the 
 supervisor said sharply, No ! do you think we are going to 
 let patients run around from hall to hall ? 
 
 " After all the work I have done, said the woman 
 humbly, surely I ought to have some little privilege. 
 
 " After all you have done ! the supervisor returned con 
 temptuously. You ought to be thankful that we gave you 
 the honor of doing it. The supervisor walked grandly off; 
 the poor woman went towards her solitary room. I saw 
 tears in her eyes. Do not work for them, Miss For- 
 resst?" 
 
 "I shall not work long," Bella replied; "but I like 
 Annie, and will do this as a token. I expect my brother 
 every day." 
 
 "You may be disappointed in that," the elder woman
 
 OB, THE CRADLE OP LIBERTY. 209 
 
 responded. " I have known a great many to be told they 
 were going soon ; and then they were kept years, till hope 
 died, and death came to close the scene." 
 
 " I know it is so," Bella returned ; " but I have a brother 
 whom I can trust." 
 
 That afternoon Bella sat at her window with the em 
 broidery in her hand. She was watching the declining sun 
 through her bars, and thinking how it was going to see 
 that far-away cabin where she was soon going ; and how 
 she should love to watch it there ; and the embroidery fell 
 from her fingers. She leaned her head upon her hand, and 
 her elbow on the window-sill. Thought sank into reverie, 
 and reverie was followed by sadness. Click. She heard it. 
 The sound had become monotony and weariness. She knew 
 the hall door opened, but what of that ? The servants and 
 officials were always going in and out. She sat unmoved, 
 and steps drew near. The steps of a man they were, heavy 
 and firm. She started then. Perhaps it was Edward. He 
 had just such firm steps. She dropped the embroidery : she 
 stood upright, and counted the footsteps as they drew near. 
 The man did not speak ; but the steps were surely Ed 
 ward s. A tremor thrilled her. Her lips parted in expect 
 ancy. A shadow came in at the door, then an employee, and 
 the steps ceased. The employee said, " This is Miss For- 
 resst." Then the employee turned away 5 and a living form 
 of solid strength stepped into the doorway, arid paused. 
 One glance the patient gave, then with a cry she sprang 
 forward, and fell upon the broad chest of Harry Forresst. 
 He put his strong arms about her, and said in a voice of 
 woman s tenderness, " Bella, my little sister Bella, is 
 this you?" 
 
 " Harry," she answered, " my own old Harry, is this you ? " 
 
 "It is just nobody else, you may be sure of that/ wag 
 his reply. 
 
 18*
 
 210 BELLA : 
 
 " I thought it was Edward." 
 
 " But you are glad to see me, I hope ? " 
 
 " Glad ! Why, Harry ! I was never so glad of any 
 thing in my life." 
 
 She gave him her chair, and he sat down. She also took 
 a seat, but it was in his broad lap ; and her hands went 
 twining about his neck, and she kissed his bushy brown 
 beard. 
 
 " Why, little one, * he said, in his off-hand way, " you are 
 hungry for kisses. Haven t had many lately, eh ? " 
 
 " I haven t had any thing that I want. You have come 
 after me, I hope." 
 
 " Why not exactly little one ; though, confound it ! 
 if I had known," here he glanced around, " that you was in 
 such a cow-pen of a place, I shouldn t have let Fred off 
 quite so easy." 
 
 " Harry ! you won t join Fred against me, will you ? " 
 
 " No, no, Bella, you may be sure of that. Once I might 
 have thought you could do better than to take Mortimer ; 
 but the way Fred is treating you is enough to drive you 
 mad, and I have had hard work to restrain my temper with 
 him. He has intrenched himself under the forms of the 
 law ; and, in order to oust him, I must examine the statutes. 
 He has legal power on his side, while we have only our 
 sense of right." 
 
 " That ought to be more powerful than law," said Bella, 
 "or, at least, that and law ought to agree." 
 
 " Ought and are are two things, little one. The men 
 who make laws study all their lives, and work so hard get 
 ting the laws straight, that it puzzles even a lawyer to wade 
 through the crooks of the statutes. Now, I find by investi 
 gation, that the laws relative to these asylums, imperfect as 
 they are, are yet more imperfectly executed. In fact, they 
 are evaded, twisted, and made void, by relatives, doctors,
 
 OR, THE CEADLE OP LIBERTY. 211 
 
 and the asylum managers, while the numerous institutions 
 seem like a ring, or brotherhood, in which one member is 
 bound to uphold and support the acts of the others. Why, 
 Bella, here are you, a young, innocent girl, put in here by 
 your brother, who asserts that you are insane, and assumes 
 authority over you ! Now, you might stay here till the end 
 of your days, unless we who are your own flesh and blood 
 get you out. Nobody else cares, of course ; that is, not par 
 ticularly ; or, if they do care, they have no legal right to get 
 3 ou. I have been looking into it, and have got one of 
 those sharp-eyed lawyers to search it out for me ; and if 
 Fred doesn t let go his hold upon you, and let you come out 
 of here fairly and squarely, so that there shall be no hitches 
 or drawbacks to prevent your being free, and the mistress 
 of your own property again, I shall go into law myself, and 
 try what can be done by knocking law against law. I 
 mean the laws of men, Bella. The statutes of God do not 
 conflict in that way ; but law processes are expensive. 
 Once in them, a man does not know how deep he may need 
 to dip into his pocket ; and, before I enter, I must be sure 
 of my ground. I must know how every thing is, according 
 to the statutes ; and I must have money ready to back my 
 self. You see it, don t you ? Well, I came down from the 
 Aroostook with a lot of unfinished contracts on hand. It 
 will take me all winter to carry them out. When I got to 
 Boston, I found out about you, and my sense of justice came 
 up. I determined to look into the case, and this is my 
 decision. I must go back to the Aroostook, and stay till 
 spring, till the ice breaks. And then, when the rivers give 
 way, I will come down ; and, if Fred does not change, I will 
 spend every cent of my property, or you shall be free. 
 Don t run away again, though I think it is all right to go 
 in that way ; because every innocent man and woman has a 
 right to liberty, and there is nothing dishonorable in taking
 
 212 BELLA ; 
 
 it. But you see this institution holds you legally ; and, if 
 you go off surreptitiously, the people here have legal power 
 to go after you, and they will do it, and hunt for you as 
 if there was a price on your head. They do not mind 
 whether you ought, or ought not, to be free. You are 
 their property, and they go for you. Now, that would be no 
 freedom for you : you would feel like a hunted criminal. 
 You see it, don t you ? " 
 
 She had listened attentively to every word ; and she an 
 swered, " Yes, Harry, I see it. You want me to stay here 
 till spring, and let Edward go back without me." 
 
 " Just so, little one. Edward cannot stay on here. He 
 cannot afford to ; and, besides, the family of his bride have 
 made preparations for her to go. And he ought to go. And 
 when you go, Bella, I am going. I think I will go out 
 there, and settle with you. I am a rough kind of a man ; 
 but you would give me a place at your fireside, wouldn t 
 you ? " 
 
 " Harry, I would be so glad, so happy ! " And she 
 kissed him again. 
 
 " Well, then, little one, the matter is settled ; and you 
 and I will sink or swim together, eh ? You can trust me. 
 You do not fear to trust me ? " 
 
 " No, Harry, I do not ; but," and she raised her eyes to 
 her surroundings, " I do hate to stay here. It is such a 
 disagreeable place ! " 
 
 " I know it. No, I do not suppose I know it ; for we 
 can only know such things by personal trial. But you see 
 how it is : I can do no better for you just now. And you 
 have high blood, Bella; and you will not disgrace your 
 ancestry by flinching in the hour of trial. Bear bravely ; 
 and remember there is a God who is always with us. Keep 
 with him. I am rough, Bella. People might judge that I 
 am not God s j but he looks at the heart and at the soul,
 
 OR, THE CRADLE OF LIBERTY. 213 
 
 at its integrity and truth. And when I am out in the pine 
 woods, and hear the wind roar among the trees as if the sea 
 had broken bounds, and the waves were dashing on in deso 
 lation, and, looking up, I see the little birds sitting fear 
 lessly on the branches, and the squirrels frisking their 
 bushy tails in happy contentment, I say, Behold, all things 
 are in the hollow of thy hand, Lord ! and lie there safely ; 
 for thou givest them peace and rest. In the hands of that 
 God I leave you, Bella ; and, with his permission, when the 
 ice goes roaring down the rivers, I will come ; .and it is you 
 and I together, then, my little Bella. Kiss me once more ; 
 for I must go, and you must bear. 
 
 For men must work, and women must weep, 
 And the sea goes on with its moaning. 
 
 There, I am getting poetical. But good-by ! Give me a 
 good, hearty shake of the hand. I like a big grasp." 
 
 He turned then to go out, but turned back again. " I 
 came near forgetting : don t you want some money ? I 
 imagine Fred doesn t make you much allowance." 
 
 " He hasn t given me any." 
 
 " I thought likely. Take that. If you can t use it for 
 yourself, and do not need it, you will find somebody that 
 does." 
 
 Then he laid a roll in her hand ; and, drawing his own 
 rough hand across his eyes as if to brush away a mist, he 
 went out. Bella heard his heavy steps recede, heard the 
 door click, and then she could hear no more. She sat down 
 in her chair again, and rested her elbow on the window-sill, 
 where it was before he came ; and there, close by the iron 
 bars, she unrolled and counted her bills. 
 
 This visit of Harry s was a great comfork She knew 
 now what she must expect, and the hard features of the 
 situation lay in her mind ; but suspense was gone, and 
 Harry had given her strength.
 
 214 BELLA ; 
 
 "I shall write to Mortimer," Harry had said. He 
 knows he can trust me" She remembered this when she 
 recalled the conversation ; and remembered also the volume 
 of meaning that he put in that one word me. It was not 
 arrogance, nor vanity, nor self-conceit, but a simple, honest, 
 outspoken trust in himself; and she understood it. 
 
 " Yes," she said, " Mortimer can trust him. Good old 
 Harry never fails." 
 
 The patients looked at each other in disappointment 
 when Harry was gone. " Poor Miss Forresst ! We did 
 hope she would go ! " 
 
 But the supervisors and employees said, " La ! we knew 
 she wouldn t go ! Her folks don t want her ! She is love- 
 cracked." 
 
 Changes of halls and cells were constantly taking place, 
 the supervisors and physicians never seeming satisfied with 
 the way the patients were ; and among those who were 
 brought into Annie s hall, Bella saw Jessonica. Three 
 months before, Jessonica Wade was brought to the asylum 
 by the basest treachery. A doctor had been hired to sign 
 a certificate, and a second doctor signed in compliment to 
 the first ; and the judge completed the documents. She was 
 carried to the asylum by two men, and left standing within 
 the doors, a friendless prisoner among strangers. The super 
 intendent pitied her. He drew her hand within his arm, 
 and himself led her up the stairs. As they went, he gently 
 pressed her hand within his own. She glanced up with a 
 timid air, and said, " You need not hold my hand so tightly, 
 doctor : I shall not run away." 
 
 He looked down upon her kindly. " I did not think of 
 that, my child; but you are so young, so tender, that I 
 pitied you for what has come upon you ; and I pressed your 
 hand to show you that -we are not all unkind, and that wa 
 surely will be tender of you."
 
 OE, THE CRADLE OF LIBERTY. 215 
 
 She learned, afterwards, that attendants do not always 
 fulfil the medical assurances. She was very lonely. There 
 was a sociable gotten up in the chapel by the superin 
 tendent. Jessouica, fresh from Washington, dressed for 
 this occasion as for a party. With the license of a blonde, 
 she wore a tissue of azure on which were spangles of golden 
 stars. The matron, seeing her beauty, placed in her hand 
 a rose-bud, and threw over her hair a spray of green. Thus 
 attired, she entered the asylum chapel, a prisoner among 
 prisoners. She was a gem in an oasis. So thought Mr. 
 Gervase as he saw her enter. 
 
 And who is Mr. Gervase ? He is a gentleman of fine 
 countenance and noble demeanor, heir to a large estate. 
 His father died while he was yet young. He was consigned 
 to an asylum. To pay his board required but a small sum 
 from his inherited income ; and, from that time to this, he 
 has lived within barred walls. A visitor, in passing through, 
 struck with the noble face and demeanor of Mr. Gervase, 
 turned to the attendant, and asked, " What is the matter 
 with that gentleman ? What caused his insanity ? " " He 
 is not insane, sir," was the reply. " How ? " queried the 
 gentleman. " Can you keep gentlemen here as patients 
 who are not insane ? " 
 
 " His friends do it, sir. We are not responsible." 
 
 " On what grounds can they do it ? " 
 
 " Oh, sir, it is easy enough ! He was a minor, sworn in 
 here by those who thought his inheritance convenient for 
 them. The reason that put him in keeps him here." 
 
 The visitor gave Mr. Gervase a searching look of pity, 
 and passed along. Mr. Gervase still continues to live in 
 asylum halls, an American gentleman who has never known 
 his rights. He was in the chapel when Jessonica entered. 
 Struck by her fairy loveliness, he went to the superin 
 tendent, and requested an introduction. The superintendent
 
 216 BELLA ; 
 
 complied ; and Mr. Gervase, with graceful ease, stood beside 
 the lily girl. He admired her flower, talked a little, and 
 pleased her by his courteous ways ; but in the midst he 
 suddenly paused, and, looking admiringly in her face, he 
 remarked, " Pardon me, Miss Jessonica, but allow me to 
 say that you are very beautiful." 
 
 He bowed, but Jessonica was offended. Her eyes turned 
 up in disapproval. 
 
 " Pardon me," he said, seeing her disapproval ; " but we 
 gentlemen who reside here see so very little that is beauti 
 ful, that, when we do find it, we must of necessity forego 
 etiquette, and speak our thoughts. But allow me to say, 
 that, if you stay here six months, I shall not wish to see 
 you ; for you will not be as beautiful then as now." 
 
 Jessonica was impressed by this remark, from one who 
 thoroughly knew the effects of this restricted existence. 
 Alas ! she lived to know how truly he had judged. Three 
 months had scarcely passed, and the superintendent, who 
 had promised her tenderness, had permitted her to be 
 removed from hall to hall, to be the butt of coarse girls, 
 and to be placed in juxtaposition with low minds, till her 
 delicate system was shattered. She no longer wore or cared 
 for the azure, her beauty was tarnished, she wailed for her 
 mother, and cried for her lost hopes. In the night-time 
 Bella could hear her cry ; and she said, " I would I could 
 lay bare these secrets, and open these doors, if but for thy 
 sake, sweet Jessonica." 
 
 There came into this hall, or rather there was put into 
 this hall, another young girl, a tall, dark-eyed girl, with rosy 
 cheeks, and pleasant countenance. She was a factory girl, 
 paying her board from her own hard-earned money, to be 
 cured ; and she, too, wandered up and down in loneliness. 
 The three girls formed a band of friendship ; and Jessonica, 
 resting her head on the tall girl s bosom, said, "Dear Ben- 
 edicta ! what should I do without you ? "
 
 OJ&, THE CRADLE OF LIBERTY. 217 
 
 " Why call me Benedicta ? " said the tall girl, stroking 
 her fair hair. 
 
 " Because you are my blessing, my Benedicta; and, with 
 out you, I should faint in this weary place." 
 
 When mental science takes a new basis, when society is 
 dispossessed of the idea that insanity is a disease to be 
 treated with isolation and barbarity, then people will look 
 back upon present methods of treating it with as great 
 wonder as we look back upon the past methods of its treat 
 ment. 
 
 It was not the original design of asylum-founders that 
 the buildings should be used to make people insane. When 
 it was urged as a plea for building them, that there were 
 miserable lunatics confined in attics and almshouses who 
 could be made comfortable in these halls, it was not sup 
 posed that they were to be filled by young girls and boys 
 fresh from school, or gentlemen and ladies from comfortable 
 homes, or old people thrown into them by the heartless 
 young ; nor were they designed as receptacles for persons 
 whom ignorant physicians sent to them to hide their own 
 stupidity. 
 
 A generation back, and many of that generation are 
 still living, when doctors had a difficult case, they disposed 
 of it by calomel. It was the sovereign resort, and was admin 
 istered to people till their swollen tongues and cancerous 
 mouths made them hideous, and their teeth fell out in con 
 sequence. Persons who were salivated never again had 
 pure, healthy systems, and doctors knew they could not ; yet 
 they persisted in administering this poison till the common 
 sense of the people drove it out of sight. What calomel 
 was then in the medical science of physical treatment, insane 
 asylums now are in mental diseases. 
 
 Chains and cages are not used in our asylums ; but 
 blinded cells take the place of cages, and for chains we have 
 
 19
 
 218 BELLA ; 
 
 coarse jackets, camisoles they are called, and strong 
 leather straps ; while the attendants practise, at their own 
 wills, poundings, kickings, pushings, pullings, jerkings by 
 the hair, jerkings by the ears, lockings in and lockings out, 
 and that never-ceasing method of discipline, the free and 
 varying use of the keys. 
 
 Annie practised none of these things ; but Bella saw 
 them, and heard them all about her. She saw gangs made 
 up for the work-rooms, the laundry, the kitchen, the sew 
 ing-rooms ; and she saw how "handy" the keys were for 
 mallets on the heads and shoulders of the lagging. She 
 saw these things, and they stirred her soul.
 
 OR, THE CRADLE OF LIBERTY. 219 
 
 CHAPTER XX. 
 
 ITUATED as Annie s hall was, in the centre of 
 the wing-divisions, Bella heard the cries, above, 
 below, and around her. This hall was used as a 
 passage for the working bands. They often 
 paused and waited here, while their leaders chose 
 other workers from this hall ; and Bella saw sad, pale, sor 
 rowful women among them ; and often they were weeping 
 on their way. Bella saw one thin, sad woman walking in 
 tears, and her sobs became audible in her distress. " Dry 
 up, there ! " shouted one of the leaders ; and, reaching his 
 hand across another woman, he struck this woman on her 
 head with his keys. The blood came out, and saturated her 
 hair. Bella s heart leaped with horror ; but the man said, 
 " That ll teach her to behave herself, and not be whining 
 along." This man came from the laundry. 
 
 " Come along," he said to a young Irish girl in Annie s 
 hall, one day. " You are just what we want down in the 
 laundry. You are young and healthy. Come along." 
 
 The girl was young and pretty, more intelligent than 
 most of her class ; and she had formed a secret attachment 
 for Miss Forresst. The independence of Bella, and her 
 evident sympathy, made her a sort of heroine among the 
 patients ; and many who never spoke to her felt a chival 
 rous trust in her, that, under other circumstances, might 
 have led them to organize, with her as leader. This young 
 girl turned away from the harsh laundry-man, and fled
 
 220 BELLA ; 
 
 into Bella s room. Bella was sitting in her chair, the girl 
 dropped by her side, and buried her face in her lap. " Save 
 me, Miss Forresst, save me ! Don t let -him take me !" 
 
 " I cannot save you," said Bella. " I have no power. I 
 could not save myself. If I knew how to do that work, 
 they would make me go too." 
 
 " Come along here ! " ejaculated the man in a loud voice, 
 forcing his way into Bella s room. " You needn t come in 
 here to hide. Come along, I say." 
 
 "I can t, I can t! "said the girl. "I have ironed and 
 ironed till I am tired all out, and my wrist aches, and my 
 feet ache with standing, and I am hungry. I ironed all 
 this forenoon ; and I have had nothing for dinner, except a 
 few spoonfuls of that sloshy soup, and I can t work, and I 
 won t work. Miss Forresst, save me ! " 
 
 Bella looked up into the man s coarse, unfeeling face. 
 " Can she not rest this afternoon ? " 
 
 "What is it to you?" he said. "If she don t want to 
 work, she must get a reprieve from the doctor. When he 
 tells me not to take her out, I shall leave her in ; not till 
 then. Come along, I say." 
 
 Bella stooped, kissed the young face, and said, " Go, Mar- 
 gey : it is best. I hope you will not always be here." 
 
 The man cast upon them a look of contempt ; and, seiz 
 ing Margey by the shoulder, he jerked her up from the 
 floor, and pushed her out of the room. A crowd of women 
 were gathered there listening. He raised his keys, and 
 swept them in a semi-circle into their faces. " Get out of 
 the way," he said. " Be oif with you. Here, where s rny 
 lot ? File up here I can t waste no more time ! " 
 
 He pushed M#rgey into the column, and filed them all 
 off together. That nighl^ when Margey was returning 
 with the file, they met the superintendent. " Doctor," said 
 Margey, looking up pleadingly, " I am tired."
 
 OR, THE CRADLE OP LIBERTY. 221 
 
 " So am I," he answered coolly ; and, turning on his 
 heel, he walked away. 
 
 Bella was sitting quietly in her room one sunshiny morn 
 ing, when the matron paused at her door. A lady was by 
 the matron s side. " Good-morning, Miss Forresst," said 
 the matron. "Allow me to introduce to you Miss Dix." 
 
 Bella s eyes opened. " Is it the Miss Dix of whom I 
 have read and heard so much ? " 
 
 " Yes : it is the same." 
 
 " You have come," said Bella, " to visit us prisoners." 
 
 "No, not prisoners. You must not consider yourselves 
 prisoners. You are only staying here for your health." 
 And Miss Dix smiled in her endeavor to impress this 
 idea. 
 
 " We are prisoners," Bella responded, " close prisoners ; 
 and if you lived as we do, Miss Dix, you would find it 
 out." 
 
 The matron touched Miss Dix", and said, " We will pass 
 along." Then the matron said, as they went out of hear 
 ing, " It is of no use to talk to her. She is incorrigible." 
 
 And Bella said in her heart, " Yes, Miss Dix would find 
 it so. She visits asylums and prisons, but she knows 
 nothing about them, after all. To know these places, we 
 must live in the bondage of them, and endure." 
 
 What Bella said of Miss Dix is true of all visitors. 
 Especially is it true of trustees. 
 
 These gentlemen, appointed by legal authority, and 
 selected from very respectable classes, are too polite to in 
 vestigate. They see the surface, under such colorings aa 
 are given by official representations ; and it is impossible 
 for them to see otherwise. Gentlemen of their breeding 
 and habits would feel that they had broken the laws of 
 courtesy, if they went into such methods of examination 
 as are absolutely necessary for discovering the real condi- 
 
 19*
 
 222 BELLA ; 
 
 tion of asylum life. The regular trustee-days are days 
 set apart by themselves. From end to end of the build 
 ings, in every department, everybody is in preparation. 
 Patients who have scarce seen light since the last trustee- 
 day are brought out, and dressed, and are perhaps, when 
 the trustees pass, playing back-gammon, or reading, or 
 sewing. Music-rooms and reading-rooms are thrown open, 
 
 rooms that are never opened except when visitors are 
 coming ; and patients are warned not to cry or complain, 
 
 not only warned, but commanded ; and not only com 
 manded, but threatened with punishment afterwards if they 
 dare utter one word of complaint in the presence of the 
 gentlemen. 
 
 Nor do trustees succeed much better if they drop in 
 unawares. They can get no farther than the office until 
 they are escorted. The keys that lock the patients in hold 
 trustees and visitors out; and there are inner telegraph 
 wires of communication, that is, the means of transmitting 
 intelligence from hall to hall are so complete, that, almost 
 with electric quickness, the most distant hall attendants 
 are apprised when visitors are likely to come. Five minutes 
 sometimes makes miraculous changes under this com 
 plete organization. And then the supervisors always know 
 in which halls there is trouble ; and, among so many wards, 
 there are generally some quiet ones. These are selected 
 for the inspection of visitors. 
 
 The great work of preparing for visitors does not con 
 sist in tidying the halls, for uncleanliness is not a cardinal 
 fault in our asylums. The housekeepers are generally 
 thrifty, cleanly, and thorough in work ; but to suppress 
 the cryings, hush the nioanings, and put the unhappy 
 people into comfortable positions, is an art. All this also 
 did Bella see, and she talked about it. She would not 
 keep still, for her heart was in pain.
 
 OR, THE CRADLE OP LIBERTY. 223 
 
 Nor would she be silent with reference to the food. " I 
 would like to send some of our dinners to Boston for ex 
 hibition," she said. " I think people would be astonished 
 at both quantity and quality. Do you think, Annie, that 
 the food here is fit for human beings ? " 
 
 " I think," answered Annie, " that it is not fit for dumb 
 animals, much less for us; and I am ashamed to preside 
 at a table of ladies, when I have so little to offer them. I 
 sometimes see them look nauseated at the quality of the 
 inferior messes. Sometimes they leave the table as hungry 
 as they sat down ; and sometimes I am hungry myself, 
 because I cannot relish such dishes." 
 
 " It s a mystery how the women can live so, year after 
 year," Bella remarked. 
 
 " They acclimate, Miss Forresst. They get sick, faint, 
 nauseate, vomit, then rally, until at last they get broken 
 in, and can eat any thing. They have told me about it." 
 
 " I don t see why they need starve us," Bella returned. 
 " The institution has pay for every patient. They can 
 afford to hire laborers, to keep carpenters and other work 
 men ; the tables of the superintendent abound in plenty, 
 the trustees and visitors are dined elegantly, the kitchens 
 are full of good food, and the lowest servants luxuriate in 
 nice tea and coffee with cream and white sugar. But we 
 patients, boarders, for whom the place was founded, sit in 
 these cells day after day, famishing. There are. farms 
 connected with the establishment ; but the nice products 
 are either sold, or consumed by the employees. Very 
 little good fresh food reaches the inner, desolate halls 
 where the need is greatest. Unlocked, open doors would 
 remedy this kind of abuse." 
 
 Now, this talk was treason. If the girls had been over 
 heard, one would have been locked into a cell, the other 
 discharged.
 
 224 BELLA ; 
 
 At the next dinner Bella tried to swallow her cold 
 watery potato, but could not. She arose disgusted, and 
 went to her room. There she took the roll Harry left, 
 and counted out what she thought necessary. Then she 
 hied to Annie, and said, " Dear Annie, I am so hungry ; 
 and here is money. Do you think you could get leave to 
 go out, and buy me something? Or are you afraid to 
 ask ? " 
 
 " I am not afraid to ask, Miss Forresst ; and, if I go out, 
 I do not know that what I buy or do is anybody s business. 
 I am not aware that I have sold my liberty." 
 
 Bella then gave her the money and the order, saying, 
 " You shall share with me." 
 
 "Oh, no! "said Anuie, "don t buy for me. There are 
 others here who need food more than I do." 
 
 That night there was a general surprise and gratification 
 through the hall. Bella went from room to room, and 
 from woman to woman, with her little gifts. Cheese, 
 pickles, cakes, oranges, and other relishes, such as they 
 never saw in that place, gladdened many sad persons, and 
 thanks went to Miss Forresst from every direction ; and 
 she, speaking freely her thoughts, ate her own purchased 
 supper that night. 
 
 Such boldness of action and speech did not escape un 
 observed. The matron came to Bella. " Is it true, Miss 
 Forresst, that you report our patients as being hungry ? " 
 
 " It is true that they are hungry," Bella replied firmly. 
 "When I was in the other hall, I always saw enough in 
 quantity, but here there is not enough even of this mean 
 quality. There are twenty-three women in our dining- 
 rooin ; and this noon I am sure ten would have eaten every 
 mouthful there was on the tables." 
 
 " But you know it is always best to live plain." 
 
 " Plain, plain ! " said Bella, " what do you call plain ? A
 
 Oil, THE CRADLE OF LIBERTY. 225 
 
 piece of salt fish as large as your finger? You do not live 
 so at your table. Mrs. Matron." 
 
 " We have salt fish at our table sometimes." 
 
 " But you have other things ? " 
 
 " Ye-es, of course we do. I am not particularly fond of 
 salt fish myself." 
 
 " You are not, are you ? I presume not. Nor am I. 
 Nor are these other ladies who are boarding here ; but they 
 have to eat it, because they are locked in here where there 
 is nothing better." 
 
 " But we cannot afford to board you any better. Our 
 means do not allow it, and patients should not expect it." 
 
 "Then give up the institution," Bella responded. "I 
 would not try to have an institution, if it must be so poor 
 as to starve its patients. These women live in constant, 
 systematic, half-starvation, and we all feel like famished 
 wolves. Last evening I asked Annie for one mouthful of 
 something to stop my faintness. All she had was half a 
 cup of black molasses. I ate it, and tried to sleep ; but I 
 could not sleep for hunger, and I cried ; yes, I wept for 
 myself and for these others shut up here in a land of 
 plenty to half starve. Mrs. Matron, you know these things; 
 and you countenance them : you do it coolly. You officers 
 of these asylums join together in these plans. You tor- 
 respond," 
 
 " Miss Forresst, hush ! " said the matron sternly. " You 
 must not say such things ! You will raise rebellion 
 among our patients." 
 
 " Let me out, then," answered Bella. " I stay here day 
 and night : I hear the groans, and see the tears. If I 
 must not speak, let me out." 
 
 " We cannot let you out. It is your friends who keep 
 you here. But you must be quiet, and cease to criticise 
 our arrangements, or we must put you still lower. There 
 are lower halls than this, you know."
 
 226 BELLA ; 
 
 " Put me there, then. I want to go. I wish I could go. 
 I want to see what is done down there. When I hear the 
 terrihle noises that come from there, I want to know what 
 makes them, and what is done to those poor haggard crea 
 tures. Yes, put me there ; and then I shall see for myself 
 what is done." 
 
 " Miss Forresst, you are wild ! Go to your room, and 
 stay there ! " 
 
 That night an official order went to the kitchen depart 
 ment. "Send an extra loaf of bread to the hall of the 
 upper wing." 
 
 "Hall of the upper wing is always grumbling," came 
 back from the kitchen. " It has more now than any other 
 of the wing halls." 
 
 This answer was transmitted to Annie. It was true that 
 she had several times sent to the kitchen for more bread. 
 As this reply was given her, she said, " God save us ! If 
 the others have less than we, I do not wonder they are 
 crazy." And this response was also transmitted. It 
 reached official ears. The matron entered the hall again, 
 and met Bella walking. She had not remained in her 
 room as she was bidden. 
 
 " Miss Forresst," said the matron, " you are at the foun 
 dation of this trouble. For your own credit you should not 
 be talking such things." 
 
 "For your own credit," responded Bella, "you should 
 have an institution that does not require such things to 
 be said ! " 
 
 "But, Miss Forrest, this is an old established house, 
 patronized by the best of people. We have, among our 
 patients, gentlemen who write, and support their families 
 by their pens." 
 
 " The greater the shame, then," Bella returned. " If 
 gentlemen are capable of supporting their families by their
 
 OR, THE CRADLE OF LIBERTY. - 227 
 
 pens, they surely ought to have some different life from 
 this ! To shut men of brain and thought into these nar 
 row, harren prisons is an outrage upon nature." 
 
 Without another word the matron turned away. Meet 
 ing the supervisor, she said, "I do not know what to do 
 with Miss Forresst. I see no way to quell her." 
 
 " I do ! " was the supervisor s emphatic reply.
 
 228 BELLA ; 
 
 CHAPTER XXL 
 
 have brought the patient, Miss Darius," the super 
 visor remarked. 
 
 This was all she said. She went out ; and Bella 
 was left alone with her new mistress. 
 
 The supervisor was right when she said she knew 
 what to do with Miss Forresst. She did know. She knew 
 how to hush complaints, or, rather, she knew who did know 
 how. Not an instant s warning did Bella have, when she 
 left Annie s hall. " Come with me," the supervisor said, 
 and laid her hand heavily on Bella s shoulder. Bella went. 
 Out again through musty passages, toward a far-away, low , 
 hall, a hall that in itself was musty as the passages. It 
 seemed that the very walls were full of miasma, such mi 
 asma as accumulates from the breaths and effluvias of in 
 numerable human beings through a long period of close 
 confinement. Persons unaccustomed catch their breath, 
 and almost reel, when they enter such air. Insane prisoners 
 live in it for the benefit of their minds. 
 
 Mercy wept when Bella Forresst stood before Miss Da 
 rius ; but Bella did not weep she was past weeping. She 
 had entered on the heroic stage. She felt somewhat as 
 martyrs may be supposed to feel when first they resolve to 
 do, and dare, and die. 
 
 Miss Darius rolled out her great white eyes, and scanned 
 every line of her captive s countenance ; but Bella did not 
 flinch. She looked up steadily under the ordeal, and then
 
 OR, THE CRADLE OF LIBERTY. 229 
 
 she smiled. It was not a smile of happiness, but of defi 
 ance and disdain. Miss Darius understood it. " I ll fetch 
 you down, Miss ! " was her inward thought. 
 
 Miss Darius understood her profession. There was no 
 insubordination in her department. Ladies or ladies maids, 
 Yankee, Irish, Swede, or French, young, middle-aged, or 
 old, feeble or healthy, insane or sane, whatever or whoever 
 came under her dominion " stepped." That was her 
 favorite word. 
 
 "I do not need anybody to teach me how to handle 
 patients." 
 
 That was her boast. 
 
 " I can manage the refractory." 
 
 That was another boast. 
 
 Bella was not consigned to her as refractory, but as 
 troublesome. Miss Darius understood the difference. She 
 understood that Miss Forresst was discerning, and inclined 
 to look behind the scenes. 
 
 " I ll take her high head down," was the continuation of 
 Miss Darius thoughts ; but she only said, " This way ! " 
 
 Bella followed her then, and was ushered into a room, 
 could it be called a room ? ushered into a cell, could it 
 be called a cell ? " It seemed more like an iron box, with 
 an iron-barred hole in one side. It was the most comfort 
 less place Bella had yet seen. The asylum horses were 
 standing in much nicer rooms. 
 
 There was literally nothing in this room but a small 
 hospital bed, and an old chair. There was not a vestige 
 of carpeting on the floor, and the boards had never seen 
 paint. The plastered walls had been whitewashed, and re- 
 whitewashed, till the successive layers were peeling off like 
 the coats of a moulting animal. Without speaking, Bella 
 sat down in the chair. 
 
 Miss Darius had one of those natures, that, being placed 
 
 20
 
 230 BELLA ; 
 
 in charge over people, many of whom were her decided 
 superiors, felt a sort of savage delight in "taking them 
 down." She conceived an instantaneous dislike to Bella. 
 First, she was younger than herself; second, she was hand 
 some. It was hard for Miss Darius to forgive these two 
 faults, even in free life ; but when she saw them here, and 
 had power over their possessor, she found an exquisite 
 pleasure in the use of the peculiarities of her vocation. 
 
 She left Bella a moment alone, and then returned with 
 the first order. 
 
 " Miss Forresst, the last patient who slept here com 
 plained of bugs. You had better examine your bed." 
 
 Bella cast a glance at the iron bed with its square-cor 
 nered foot, but made no reply. 
 
 " Miss Forresst, did you hear me ? " 
 
 " I heard." 
 
 Well ? " 
 
 " Well ," was Bella s response. 
 
 Will you attend to it ? " 
 
 " Is it my duty to clean your beds ? Am I hired here 
 for that purpose ? " 
 
 Miss Darius s eyes flashed. " None of your sauce to me ! 
 I am hired here to attend to such people as you ; and you 
 will find that I am capable. I am not one of your soft 
 heads ; and, if you want to save yourself trouble, you will 
 take off those bed-clothes, and do your duty." 
 
 Bella gazed at her mistress with a feeling of disgust, and 
 hasty words came into her mind ; but she repressed them, 
 for she remembered her position, a prisoner in the power of 
 this woman ; and she well knew the futility of resisting 
 one of these employees. With a feeling as if a dead weight 
 had fallen upon her, she arose to comply with the disagree 
 able command, while her mistress stood by, watching eager 
 ly to make sure that the work was thoroughly done. Her 
 keys were in her hand.
 
 OK, THE CRADLE OP LIBERTY. 231 
 
 The women in this hall seemed as people in constant fear. 
 Their countenances wore an habitual expression of what 
 may be called " cowed." They were disciplined until all 
 natural spirit was disciplined out of them. They crouched 
 and shrank away at the approach of Miss Darius. 
 
 When Bella came to the table, she saw table discipline in 
 full force. One by one the women came, not one staid 
 away, not one came cheerfully ; but as if driven by unseen 
 thongs they took their seats at the cheerless table. Miss 
 Darius stood in the centre of the room, turning her eyes to 
 the right and left. Not a woman escaped her scrutiny. 
 She motioned to a chair opposite herself for Bella. The 
 " troublesome " patient must be under the eye of her mis 
 tress. 
 
 What a meal that was ! What meals they all were at 
 Miss Darius s table ! The food was divided out, and dis 
 tributed by Miss Darius, before the patients entered the 
 room ; and, as they sat down, they knew what was each 
 one s allowance. If any woman refused to eat what was on 
 her plate, she was reminded of the force-pump ; if * any 
 asked for more, she was told, " Go to your room ! You 
 have had enough ! " 
 
 Miss Darius ran a secret express to the kitchen, and al 
 ways had delicacies hidden away for herself. 
 
 The cleaning of the bed was the only work required of 
 Bella on the first day. The remainder of the time was occu 
 pied by Miss Darius in watching her new patient; keeping 
 her eyes fixed on her as though to awe her by power of 
 supremacy. It was very annoying and wearing to the 
 patient; but then Miss Darius knew how to manage insano 
 patients. The superintendent said she was one of his best 
 attendants. 
 
 The next morning Miss Darius s method for Bella be 
 came apparent. She was not to be strapped and jacketed,
 
 232 BELLA ; 
 
 nor dragged and pounded ; but her cure was to be in work. 
 As soon as breakfast was over, Miss Darius said, "Miss 
 Forresst, you can wash my dishes." 
 
 Bella paused a moment, then walked on toward her room. 
 " Miss Forresst, you can wash my dishes ! " 
 
 This time she spoke with emphasis. Bella turned, 
 "Washing dishes is not my business" in this house. You 
 are hired for that purpose." 
 
 Miss Darius stepped in front of her. " Miss Forresst, 
 be careful ! My patients are not allowed such expressions ! 
 You will wash my dishes ! " 
 
 Bella looked at the two eyes glaring at her ; and, for a 
 moment, felt as if she should like to put her two fists into 
 them ; but better thoughts prevailed. She scorned to 
 quarrel with the woman. She scorned to even dispute with 
 her. Harry and the Penobscot ice came to her recollection. 
 " Tis but for a time," she said to herself, and proudly 
 turned to her assigned work. 
 
 " It is not because I fear you," she remarked to Miss 
 Darius, " but I should be ashamed to contest with you." 
 
 " I did not ask for your motives," was Miss Darius s re 
 ply. " It is your work I want." 
 
 That was the beginning of days of toil for Bella. To 
 see her work was Miss Darius s especial delight, and her 
 name was continually ringing through the hall. " Bella 
 Forresst, you may scour the brasses ! Bella Forresst, scrub 
 the dining-room floor ! Bella Forresst, sweep the hall ! 
 Bring my water, Bella Forresst." 
 
 Thus Bella became one of the asylum slaves. She toiled 
 till her hands were soiled, and her feet tired ; while Miss 
 Darius sat with folded arms, and rocked in her chair, her 
 keys lying within reach. She was fond of using those keys ; 
 and if a blow from them raised a protuberance, why, what 
 matter ? It was only on " a patient."
 
 OR, THE CRADLE OF LIBERTY. 233 
 
 But Miss Darius was not confined to keys as instruments 
 of discipline. She choked one woman for refusing to wash 
 dishes. The woman could not swallow for a month with 
 out pain. She kicked another woman down a flight of 
 stairs. The woman was sitting on the top stair : Miss 
 Darius wanted to pass. " Get up ! " she said ; but, before 
 the woman could comply, Miss Darius put out her foot, and 
 sent her to the foot of the flight. . It did not kill her, but it 
 broke her hip ; and now she hobbles on crutches, a cripple 
 for life. 
 
 Miss Darixis knocked an old lady to the floor, and broke 
 her shoulder. They picked up the poor old creature, and 
 laid her on her bed. When the physician had set the 
 broken bone, he said, "I hope you will not cherish hard 
 feelings towards Miss Darius." 
 
 "No," the old lady replied, flushes of pain passing over 
 her brow. " She was a little more hasty than usual, that 
 is all." 
 
 It was true. Much that old lady had suffered from Miss 
 Darius. She had been jammed into chairs, and held there 
 for hours ; Miss Darius had seized her by the neck, and ran 
 her the length of the hall, till it seemed that the old lady 
 must fall ; and she had been jerked and pulled in every 
 conceivable way. 
 
 Miss Darius also was expert at keeping women locked 
 into their cells in constant solitude ; but she was not alone 
 in that. Other attendants kept them locked, forever lock 
 ed, day and night, in darkness, cold, and desolation, in 
 rooms barren of comforts, and only pittances to eat. 
 
 When Miss Darius ordered women to their rooms, if they 
 did not step quickly enough to suit her, she had a way of 
 going behind them ; and, with her fists doubled, she rat-tat- 
 tatted on their backs with all her force, and thus drov*^ 
 them iu, Those who have had the misfortune to receive 
 20*
 
 234 BELLA ; 
 
 blows on the spine know the cruel sufferings these rat-tat- 
 blows produced. 
 
 Miss Darius also had a habit of catching women, bj 
 hooking her arm about their necks, and, with their bodies 
 dragging behind, she pulled them into a dark closet, and 
 there administered punishment. But she felt that she had 
 reached the acme of hall management, when, after dinner, 
 she marshalled out all her women, and seated them in 
 chairs along each side of the hall. Every chair stood 
 square in its niche, and every woman sat square in her 
 chair. Miss Darius was ready for visitors then ; and when 
 visitors, passing through asylums, see women sitting thus, 
 let them think of Miss Darius. 
 
 The asylum officers, passing through the halls, and see 
 ing the patients sitting thus in quiet order, give praise to 
 the attendants. Miss Darius was considered a model at 
 tendant. Her women, looking at each other with eyes of 
 silent anguish, moaned softly, " How long, Lord ! how 
 long ? " One said, " Why did they not hang me ere they 
 brought me here ? Hanging would soon end, but this will 
 never end." Another whispered, and her hollow eyes 
 glared, " Oh ! why was I not laid on a funereal pyre, and my 
 body given to the winds ? Twere better than this." And 
 another said, " Why did they not put me in my coffin alive, 
 for then my sufferings would soon have ended ; but this 
 goes on and on, like a great revolving wheel, crushing me 
 at every turn." 
 
 It is, indeed, the endlessness of imprisonment that adds 
 the last dread bitterness. Penal prisoners, serving their 
 terms, can count the days, and feel each night that there 
 is one less, and that, if they endure, freedom lies once more 
 before them ; but prisoners in asylums, consigned and 
 held by medical advice, have no such hope. They are life 
 prisoners, and they know it. Deep into their hearts sinks
 
 OR, THE CEADLE OF LIBERTY. 235 
 
 tliis terrible consciousness ; and, " forever, forever," rings 
 from soul to soul like echoes among the lost. Is it wonder 
 ful that they shriek, and cry, and tear their hair? Is it 
 strange that they grow haggard, or lifeless, or wild, or sink 
 into imbecility, or despair, losing beauty and life, and be 
 coming unfit for earth or heaven? 
 
 Over these wretched people, attendants like Miss Darius 
 tyrannize. Patients have no privileges under such attend 
 ants. They cannot even call their clothes their own ; but 
 trunks and garments are taken from them at a moment s 
 notice. 
 
 Miss Darius supplied herself with delicacies, by eating 
 what was sent to the patients from their homes. Said a 
 gentleman one day, taking Miss Darius one side, " Here 
 are some oranges, figs, and bottles of wine, for my wife. 
 She is a very generous woman ; and, if I leave them with 
 her, I fear she will give them away. I want she should 
 eat them herself. Will you take charge of them, and see 
 that she has them, a few at a time ? " 
 
 Miss Darius simpered, "Ye-e-s." She had a very soft 
 way of speaking to visitors. The gentleman went away 
 thinking how pleasant she was ! That night Miss Darius 
 handed an orange to the lady ; the next morning she gave 
 her a fig ; two days after she gave her a small glass of 
 wine. 
 
 " Oh ! " said the lady. " How nice it is ! Where did 
 you get it ? " 
 
 "Your husband left it," Miss Darius replied. She felt 
 " gracious " at the moment. Her own mouth was fragrant 
 with the nectar. For three days she continued to supply 
 herself and the patient ; then the patient s allowance was 
 withholden. 
 
 " I would thank you for another glass of the wine," said 
 the lady a few days after.
 
 236 BELLA ; 
 
 " There is no more," said Miss Darius curtly. 
 
 "I will take an orange, then." 
 
 " They are gone." 
 
 "A fig, then." 
 
 " I tell you they are gone. Did you think your things 
 would last forever ? " 
 
 " I wonder why my hushand left so small quantities ? " 
 the lady remarked, and then went to her room. 
 
 " I wonder where Miss Darius expects her soul will go," 
 whispered a woman near. "I saw her carry twelve bottles 
 of wine, more than three dozen of oranges, and a drum of" 
 figs, to her room." 
 
 It was true. The gentleman was no niggard, and had 
 supplied his wife freely with these nourishing articles. 
 Miss Darius sat in her room, and regaled herself for many 
 long days. 
 
 Well, that patient is dead now. We read her death 
 in the papers. " Died in the asylum at , &c., &c." 
 
 We asked ourselves, " Did she die of slow starvation, 
 prison paralysis, home-sickness, or heart-sickness ? When 
 last we saw her, all these diseases were on her. 
 
 " If I only had some apples ! " said an old colored woman 
 to a lady visitor. The old woman was for many years a 
 highly-valued servant of this lady, who had now come 
 to visit her in her misfortune. 
 
 " You shall have them," said the lady. " I will send 
 you some." 
 
 The next day there came to the asylum. a basket of 
 beautiful rosy apples, labelled with .the name of the old 
 colored women. 
 
 " She is in Miss Darius s hall," said the persons in the 
 public room. A passage-sweeper took the basket. A 
 supervisor joined her. They carried the basket to Miss 
 Darius. Half an hour later the old colored woman saw
 
 OR, THE CRADLE OF LIBERTY. 237 
 
 several attendants eating large rosy apples. She was re 
 minded of the promise of her mistress ; and venturing to 
 Miss Darius, she asked, humbly, " Have any apples come 
 for me ? " 
 
 " You ! " said Miss Darius, staring. " Who would send 
 apples to you ? " 
 
 The poor old eyes drooped, she turned away, and totter 
 ed to her chair, and sank into it, murmuring, "I thought 
 she would send me some. She used to be good. But no 
 body cares for us when we get in here." 
 
 Sad, sad, is the fate of. asylum patients ! Nowhere, save 
 in these corridors, can be found such weird, down-trodden 
 women, or sad and hopeless men, sitting stultified in these 
 living tombs, while outside their walls the free sun is shin 
 ing, and the birds are carolling their songs, and animals 
 run each in their own natural way. 
 
 " I wish I was that rat," said a woman, looking through 
 her grates, "for then I should be free;" and her face 
 lengthened into a soberness that settled into lines, mark 
 ing hrfr with grim despair. 
 
 " But," says an asylum apologist, " all patients do not 
 feel thus. There are those who go and stay awhile, get 
 better, go home and stay a few weeks, and then go back ; 
 going back and forth, willingly and pleasantly." 
 
 We grant it. There are such women ; but the asylum 
 does not cure them. Asylum doctors do not touch the 
 causes of their disease. As a general rule, they do nothing 
 for their patients except to hold them as prisoners. If they 
 give medicines, it is chlora, or some soporific that stupefies, 
 from which patients wake more miserable than before. The 
 real disease is usually untouched. 
 
 Women go back and forth uncured. " Willingly," it is 
 said. Perhaps so. But what is the state of persons who 
 go willingly to prison ? Ought they to be allowed to remain
 
 238 BELLA ; 
 
 in such an apathetic stupidity? The Lord made the glad 
 earth for the uplifting of souls, and the broad sunlight for 
 their healing. He made no prisons for men ; and a soul 
 that is so broken as to live contentedly in little enclosed 
 cells is the very soul that should be lifted out, and held be 
 neath the smiles of God. The fresh, glad wilderness, the 
 sea with its foam and bracing air, the mountains, the val 
 leys, plains, babbling brooks, limpid lakelets, and broad 
 rivers, all have health in their scenes, and nature in their 
 beautiful recesses. Let people seek health by Nature s 
 rules, and they will find it. Let them have Nature s free 
 dom. Remove artificial rules ; give free rein to Nature in 
 her purity, not in her perversions. The Creator made 
 people for freedom, guided only by his pure laws. 
 
 What the theories are that fill volumes of works on in 
 sanity, we do not know, we do not want to know ; for 
 theories that produce such results should be studied only for 
 the purpose of exposing their fallacies. 
 
 Insanity should not be treated in masses. Each individ 
 ual case requires its own individual treatment. Neither in 
 locked cottages nor locked halls should insane people be 
 massed. They require deep scientific treatment, and reme 
 dies that reach the cause. They are unhappy together, 
 some in cells, some pacing the halls, and all feeling that a 
 ban rests upon them. If people are not insane, they cer 
 tainly should not be in such prisons ; if they are insane, 
 they need the natural companionship of natural persons to 
 keep and sustain them till they are restored ; and such 
 restoration depends on remedies applied to the cause of the 
 insanity, and not to the insanity itself. This is a disease 
 that touches the souls of men and women. It should not 
 be the subject of ridicule, cruelty, or contempt ; but should 
 be skilfully and tenderly removed by removing the cause, 
 or giving the sufferer strength to bear the cause.
 
 OR, THE CRADLE OF LIBERTY. 239 
 
 " If it were not for hope, the heart would break. Bella 
 most certainly realized the truth of that adage during that 
 winter under Miss Darius. She counted the months, she 
 counted the weeks, and almost counted the days, before the 
 spring opening; and, as she toiled like a servant for her 
 unthankful mistress, she felt to say, " Every day is one 
 less ; and how do these bear who have no brother they ex 
 pect ? " And echo answers, How ? 
 
 Miss Darius had no faith in the fulfilment of Bella s ex 
 pectations. " I have heard patients talk before," she said. 
 " They are always expecting to go ; but they are pretty apt 
 to stay. What does her brother want of her, a crazy, love- 
 smitten thing ? He only talks ; but she ll stay, I ll promise 
 you." 
 
 And Miss Darius had good grounds for this opinion, if 
 she judged by her experience in the past, and by her obser 
 vation of large numbers of patients left there by friends to 
 linger. But Harry Forresst was not of that class of friends. 
 His promise was his bond. His soul was truth. All winter 
 he bore in mind that prison and his young sister. Every 
 plan was governed to conform to his pledge ; and when the 
 snows softened, and the ice gave way, he was ready to go. 
 He shook the hard hands of the woodsmen, exchanged fare 
 well greetings, and felt that the men were sincere when 
 they said they were sorry they should " see his face no 
 more." He, too, was sorry. He had spent many genial 
 evenings by their wood-fires, smoked with them, read their 
 newspapers, and heard their evening tales. Pleasant 
 memories lingered about them ; but now Bella was in his 
 heart, the Western home on his imagination, and the Aroos- 
 took would know him no more. He steamed to Boston. 
 
 Straightforward in his actions, he went from the boat to 
 Frederic, and plunged into business. 
 
 " I say, Fred, I am going West."
 
 210 BELLA ; 
 
 "Ah!" 
 
 To Mr. Frederic it mattered little whether Harry was 
 West or in the Aroostook. Harry was " a rough member 
 of the Forresst house, who made money fast enough, but 
 whose social ideas were far astray/ Mr. Frederic often 
 remarked. 
 
 " I am going immediately," Harry continued ; " and I 
 must take Bella." 
 
 " Ha ! " 
 
 Mr. Frederic opened his eyes, and his mustache went up 
 ward. -Harry went on, " Yes, I am going to take Bella. 
 The sooner you let her out of that place the better. I want 
 to be off." 
 
 Frederic looked Harry in the eyes, and said, " There will 
 be two words to that bargain. I am her guardian by law." 
 
 " I know you have procured that situation for yourself; 
 but I intend to give her to another guardian." 
 
 " Ha ! " 
 
 Frederic uttered this ejaculation, and then coolly turned 
 to some figures before him, as if to say, " Why talk any 
 more ? I am master of the situation. Go away ! " 
 
 But Harry was not the man to be turned away from his 
 purpose. He spoke again, and this time peremptorily. 
 
 " I say, Fred, I never quarrelled with you yet ; but if 
 you don t let Bella out of that place, and give up her prop 
 erty, / will try a game at law. I will ascertain where 
 justice lies." 
 
 " Very well," was Frederic s response. " The law has 
 pronounced the girl insane ; she is proved so by the certifi 
 cates of two physicians ; and that she is no better is evident 
 from the fact that they have had to put her in lower wards 
 to keep her in subjection." 
 
 Harry Forresst squared his shoulders, his head set itself 
 upright on. his firm neck, and for a moment astonishment
 
 OR, THE CRADLE OP LIBERTY. 241 
 
 held him silent. Then, in a low and solemn tone, he 
 asked, 
 
 " Frederic, are you a devil ? " 
 
 " Upon my honor," said Mr. Frederic, " you can call me 
 by that name if you please ! Your own humor seems of 
 that kind to-day." 
 
 " It will be of that kind shortly, I fear," was Harry s 
 response. "I will leave you now. I shall see you this 
 evening." 
 
 Harry turned then, and walked into the street. He felt 
 that he needed the air. He would have liked a bath in the 
 pine-woods atmosphere, that he might cool his temper with 
 its sweetness. 
 
 Frederic was already cool. In fact, he never allowed 
 limself to be heated. He was quite still after Harry went 
 vut, and considered. At first he was buried in reverie ; 
 then thoughts flashed over his haughty face, and then they 
 passed away. In that moment his decision was made, his 
 course decided ; and when he went home to his fashionable 
 dinner, and walked up the street, with one glove off, and 
 his small cane carelessly swinging, none could see that the 
 destiny of a human being hung in his thoughts. Some 
 young ladies, meeting him, remarked after passing, " How 
 superb Mr. Forresst is ! He grows splendid every day." 
 
 When Harry kept his appointment that evening, he was 
 utterly taken aback. Frederic was affable and polite as at 
 a dinner-party. Before Harry could speak, Frederic said, 
 "I have considered, my brother; and as you are resolved 
 upon entering a law-case unless I yield, why, I yield, for 
 the credit of the family. I will send Eunice for her to 
 morrow." 
 
 " I will go myself," said Harry. 
 
 . The next morning saw Harry on the alert. He break 
 fasted early, strode to the depot, and was off. 
 
 21
 
 242 BELLA ; 
 
 What a day that was ! Miss Darius s white eyes stared 
 with astonishment as that big, bluff man came through her 
 hall. It was spring-time ; and there was extra cleaning. 
 The beds, the cells, windows, and rough old paint, were 
 having their spring scrubbing ; and Bella had been assigned 
 to a heavy portion. With a weary feeling she had dressed 
 herself in a scouring-suit, and was down on her knees at 
 the mop-board, in obedience to Miss Darius s command. 
 It seemed to her that spring had done every duty except to 
 open the Penobscot ice ; and she wondered whether that 
 was bound by the satyrs of the ice-king as closely as she 
 was bound by the satyrs of the prison-king. Suddenly her 
 mistress appeared before her. 
 
 " You may leave this work, and go to your room. You 
 have cornpan} ." 
 
 " Company ? " 
 
 Down went the cloth, scrubbing-brush, and all appurte 
 nances. Up came the patient from her knees. Back flew 
 the curls, and the eyes flashed. She had no time to think / 
 but she felt that it was Harry, and away she flew. 
 
 " That s always the way," Miss Darius muttered. " Com 
 pany are sure to come when we don t want them. He ll 
 bother round as much as an hour, I ll warrant. I must 
 get work. Oh, I know ! There s Mrs. Murray ! I ll make 
 her work ! " 
 
 " I am thankful for Miss Forresst," said Mrs. Murray, 
 when Miss Darius entered her room. " It is the very 
 brother for whom she has been looking. She will go home 
 n DW." 
 
 " Pshaw ! no, she won t ; and, if she should, it s none of 
 your business." 
 
 " I have a right to be thankful for her, if I have no other 
 right," meekly said the woman, as she arose from her chair 
 to do the prison cleaning.
 
 OE, THE CEADLE OF LIBEETY. 243 
 
 Bella, meantime, had gone to her room, no longer a 
 desolate place, for a noble man stood in it. His soul 
 was full of a good purpose : does not that ennoble any 
 man? 
 
 She saw him face to face, saw him smile ; and, closing her 
 door, she rushed straight into his arms; and, laying her 
 head on his shoulder, she wept. She did not speak, nor 
 kiss him, nor say she was glad ; but she sobbed, and her 
 tears wet his bushy brown beard. He lifted up her face, 
 and looked at her anxiously. 
 
 "Why, little one, what is the matter? I thought you 
 would be glad ? " 
 
 " Glad, Harry ? Am I not glad ? " 
 
 " I don t see it. I thought you would jump for joy ?" 
 
 " I will, when I have cried enough. I must cry first, 
 you know." 
 
 As she looked up then, there broke through her tears, 
 deep smiles ; and all over her face, bright colors seemed to 
 glow. Harry thought of a rainbow after a shower. She 
 ^brushed away the misty drops, the smile deepened, her eyes 
 looked up with their old-time hope, and then he felt re-as 
 sured. He began to understand her. A bit of a tear came 
 into his own eye ; but he brushed it away, saying, " Con 
 found it, Bella, don t make a man weak ! " 
 
 " But, Harry, I thought I should drop right down with 
 
 joy." 
 
 " Drop ! Why, what are you women made of? Come 
 now, stand up like a man. Be yourself. Make ready, and 
 we ll be off. I have bidden farewell to the Aroostook, and 
 am going out to marry you to the captain." 
 
 The words were like an electric shock to her. The 
 thought was familiar; but the words, uttered in this open 
 way, produced a re-action. She blushed. Blushing the 
 most natural effect of such a remark brought nature to 
 her aid. She looked up in her old quick manner.
 
 244 BELLA ; 
 
 " Sit down, old Harry, and I will pack my trunk." 
 
 " That s it ! " he exclaimed. " Now you are Bella again 
 That s jolly. Go ahead, and I will not speak of the captain 
 again for full five minutes." 
 
 She obeyed him with willing hands, working rapidly as 
 in a dream when the mind rushes, it knows not how. She 
 had been expecting this event; yet now that it had come, 
 she could scarce believe its reality. " It was a dream, and 
 yet, not all a dream." 
 
 The great event was soon known through the hall. 
 "Miss Forresst is going, going home." One day of 
 true happiness, and only one, does the asylum patient pris 
 oner know : that is the day of release. The world seems 
 suddenly larger. The air is more wholesome, life puts on 
 new bloom. The women who were to remain gathered in 
 groups as if their whole interest centered in her. " Dear 
 Miss Forresst," said one, " I wish I had a letter ready for 
 you to take out. You could mail it for me." 
 
 " Why cannot I write for you after I am away ? I shall 
 be my own mistress then, you know. Nobody can control^ 
 my letters," and Bella smiled triumphantly. 
 
 " Oh, do write, do ! I shall be so happy ! Write to my 
 
 Aunt Ransom, corner of Pine and Grosvenor Streets, L , 
 
 Mass." 
 
 " Yes," said Bella, " I will tell her what you suffer. I 
 will tell her how you are situated ; but will she believe me ? 
 Sometimes it seems impossible to make people believe even 
 that which is before their eyes, with reference to these asy 
 lums. They attend only to that which the head ones say." 
 
 " I know it, I know it ; but there is no hope for me 
 save in somebody s letters ; and my aunt used to love me." 
 
 " Will you write for me too ? " asked another. " Write 
 to my brother at Willimet Centre, Mass. Miss Forresst, 
 how happy you will be! But you will not forget us who 
 are left behind, will you ? "
 
 OR, THE CRADLE OP LIBERTY. 245 
 
 " Indeed I will not," Bella said earnestly. " I could not 
 forget you if I should try ; and I shall not try." 
 
 Bella felt her heart come in her mouth, as she looked 
 upon these women, and considered the weary, dreary 
 months that lay behind them, and the weariness that was 
 yet to come. 
 
 " What is such a life worth ? " she asked herself. 
 
 There is a strange contradiction in asylum partings. 
 Patients rejoice most when those go whom they love most. 
 Bella knew that when these women said, " We are so glad 
 you are going," it was because they loved her ; and that 
 she herself would have so joyed in their departure that she 
 would have parted with every one, and would have walked 
 those corridors alone, and thanked her God that the others 
 were free. 
 
 When she was dressed, and the partings were over, Harry 
 drew her hand within his arm. Then she hesitated a 
 moment. She had not said good-by to Miss Darius. 
 Should she? Could she? "No yes I will. Poor 
 Miss Darius ! It is not her fault that she is unkind and 
 cruel. The place and the business make her so." 
 
 With this charitable conclusion, Bella said " Good-by," 
 then walked through the open door, heard the key turn 
 behind her, felt that for her entrance it would no more un 
 lock, and went down the stairs, thanking her God and her 
 brother, who seemed to her like a rock of salvation, a 
 present help in time of trouble, a saviour whom God had 
 sent. Harry helped her into a carriage, and they rode 
 away. She grasped his hand, and looked out upon the 
 broad landscape. " Harry ! Isn t out-of-doors larger 
 than it used to be ? I do not believe I shall know how to 
 behave, I have been shut up so long." 
 
 " You will soon find out. You must put up your cour 
 age, and make ready to receive Fred. Do not let him 
 21*
 
 246 BELLA ; 
 
 think he has cowed you down. But here is the station." 
 They were driving to the depot. 
 
 "Now I feel free !" she said as she sprang from the car 
 riage, and saw the waiting train. " Farewell, prison ! 
 Come, old Harry." 
 
 He smiled at that appellation. He himself taught it to 
 her ere she could scarce lisp it, or knew its meaning ; and 
 he felt young again as she uttered it with her old-time joy- 
 ousness. He helped her into the car, and took a seat 
 beside her. It would be hard to say which was happier, 
 he in protecting her, or she in being protected. Thus 
 beautifully lias the Creator harmonized nature between 
 strength and weakness, that both are happy in their appro 
 priate spheres. 
 
 While they were riding, Harry unfolded his plans. 
 " The captain," he said, " wants his father and mother to 
 go on. I have made arrangements for them to go with us. 
 They are two lone old people, with only their one boy to 
 love. I suppose you have no objections to their going." 
 
 11 No, indeed! I shall be so glad. Dear Mrs. Beale, I 
 alwa3 r s loved her." 
 
 Then, as she settled back, an expression of ineffable 
 gladness stole into her face. Harry watched her in silence. 
 Neither spoke ; but the bachelor brother mused, " It is 
 strange what this is that comes over women ! There is 
 Mortimer Beale full fifteen hundred miles away; yet the 
 thought of him makes her face shine as though angels 
 were blessing it. Heigho ! I wonder how a man feels 
 when a woman loves him so ! Well, I shall never know. 
 I never had a knack at women." 
 
 She spoke but once again on the road. Then she looked 
 up, and said, " Is it really, truly true that I am going ? 
 I hope it isn t a dream, Harry." 
 
 " It is a wide-awake dream/ he answered.
 
 OR, THE CRADLE OF LIREttTY. 247 
 
 They steamed on. All around them were other people, 
 each with his or her own emotions, interests, and loves ; 
 aud yet they two were alone. Around themselves they 
 carried the halo of their own mutual love ; and, in 
 the midst of the world of people, they were alone. 
 Alone, yet together, we all are. Souls speak to souls ; yet 
 each soul has its own organic laws, its own individuality. 
 Each is alone. 
 
 Of all the crowd in the station that day, none was more 
 manfully strong than Harry Forresst, with his sister under 
 his care ; and no woman walked more buoyantly than she, 
 with her hand on his solid arm.
 
 248 BELLA 
 
 CHAPTER XXII. 
 
 was no need for Bella to assume, in order to 
 show Frederic that she was not crushed. Thanks 
 ^ a gd constitution, she arose from her sorrows, 
 and life seemed to re-act. She entered her sister s 
 comfortable home under Harry s protection ;. and 
 was gathered to her old mother s heart in one long em 
 brace. Harry left her there ; and went down to Frederic. 
 
 " H m," said Frederic, " I suppose you have been for 
 her." 
 
 " Bella is now with mother," was the response. " She 
 needs new clothes, and a young housekeeper s outfit. I 
 have come to you for a check." 
 
 " Upon my honor ! How much do you calculate it will 
 take to furnish a squatter s cabin ? " 
 
 Harry s eyes flashed, even with Frederic s own sheen. 
 
 " It will take the whole of her property ; and, unless you 
 pass it over immediately, it will take some of your own to 
 pay your lawyer s fees." This was the second time that 
 Harry had threatened him with law. The mustache 
 twitched with an ominous jerk ; and he drew forth a check 
 which he filled as Harry dictated, but his hand had a 
 convulsive movement as he wrote. It was not the amount 
 of money that convulsed his fingers, as he signed his name : 
 it was the fact that he was overmastered. When Harry 
 was gone, he stood and mused. 
 
 " Upon my honor ! They all are lunatics together.
 
 OR, THE CRADLS OF LIBERTY. 249 
 
 The whole family ought to be in an asylum. Harry threat 
 ening me with law ! As though I do not know the ground 
 I stand on. The girl is insane. I have proved it ; and 
 that she is no better is shown by the fact that twice she 
 went to lower wards. "Well, I bide my time." 
 
 Then Mr. Frederic settled his face ; and over his inward 
 determination his habitual blandness fell as a screen. 
 What he thought could not be deciphered then by what he 
 said and did. 
 
 The succeeding days were full of new life to Bella. On 
 Summer Street, on Winter Street, up and down Washing 
 ton Street, crossing and recrossiug she went. The world 
 was beautiful and bright again. She was living in a pres 
 ent of happiness, with a future full of the halo of promise. 
 She thought sometimes of those imprisoned women whom 
 she had left, and who had no brother to take them from 
 their galling bondage ; and when she sat at her sister s 
 luxurious table, she thought of them trying to subsist on 
 their pittances ; and often she said, "If people only could 
 know these things ! Isn t there somebody to tell?" 
 
 "It seems wrong for me to go out and be happy, while 
 they are all left miserable," she added; "but what can I 
 do?" 
 
 Mrs. Boynton s house became a busy scene. She opened 
 her heart to the occasion; and, in. truth, she was not sorry 
 that Frederic had taken this turn. Much as she depre 
 cated Bella s " low marriage," she yet thought it prefera 
 ble to an asylum. " That seems such a disgrace," was her 
 frequent remark. 
 
 The most marked feature in Mrs. Boynton s house at this 
 time was the frequent presence and cordial civilities of 
 Mr. Frederic. His magnificent presence illumined every 
 department. The dressmaking, millinery, and household 
 linen all passed under his observation ; and he seemed to 
 have entirely forgotten his animosity.
 
 250 BELLA ; 
 
 "It is the part of the conquered to yield gracefully," he 
 remarked to Bella, " and I wish to show you that I can 
 bear defeat. Wouldn t you like to visit Nellie on your 
 way as you go West ? " 
 
 " How can I ? Harry has no time to stop at New 
 York." 
 
 "Allow me to be your chevalier to Brooklyn. Two days 
 precedence of Harry will give you time to visit Nellie, and 
 also to look about the Empire City. I shall be most happy 
 to show you about." 
 
 Bella looked up at him in astonishment; but his face 
 was as calm as if he had been in his own counting-room, 
 completing a business transaction. He saw her searching 
 glances, and said, " You are surprised at my offer ; but you 
 see, when I do give up a point, I do it thoroughly and 
 completely." 
 
 It seems impossible that the girl could have believed 
 him sincere in this offer ; and, in order to show that she 
 did thoroughly believe him, it would be necessary to deline 
 ate the characteristics of Frederic Forresst, and to depict 
 the perfect control that he possessed over his fine features. 
 To this power, much of his business success was due. He 
 could utter absolute falsehoods with a bland and honest 
 expression that deceived even shrewd men, and drew from 
 their purses thousands that went into his own. He thor 
 oughly deceived Bella now. She thought him full of re 
 grets for his past course ; and he was, but they were 
 regrets that in the end he had been defeated. It seemed to 
 him that he had become imbecile to allow a girl to " get 
 the better of him," even though half a dozen younger 
 brothers abetted her. 
 
 " Am I not the eldest of my father s house ? " he asked 
 himself. "If I were in England I should have rights as 
 eldest ; but, upon my honor, in America we have no 
 rights."
 
 OR, THE CRADLE OF LIBERTY. 251 
 
 Mr. Forresst was no republican at heart, though he 
 passed outwardly as such. In fact, no one had ever read 
 him, or knew exactly what he was. 
 
 But when Bella mentioned Frederic s proposal to Harry, 
 he started, and said, " Ihe deuce." 
 
 " Why, Harry ! Oughtn t I to visit Nellie ? " 
 
 " But there is something wrong about it. How came 
 Fred to offer?" 
 
 " He wants to show me courtesy by way of amends." 
 
 " H m. You see, Bella, I have very little confidence in 
 this show of acquiescence he is making ; but then I don t 
 care whether he is sincere or not, as long as I can keep him 
 harmless." 
 
 " But what harm can he do me now ? I am free. You 
 have my money, and you will be only two days behind me. 
 I can meet you at the New- York depot ; and I do think 
 Frederic is sorry for what he has done, now that he sees it 
 has never changed me ; and we must forgive." 
 
 " I have no doubt but he is sorry he did not conquer you ; 
 and as to forgiving, well, let him go to God. If he gets 
 forgiveness there, I shall not withhold mine ; for which lat 
 ter Fred cares very little, I fancy;" and honest Harry 
 shrugged his broad shoulders. "But, as I have not the 
 power of God to read his heart, I cannot know whether he 
 is sincere, and I cannot trust him." 
 
 Frederic, in his home, thought that Harry would say this ; 
 and he came again to his sister s house. With consummate 
 tact he repeated his proposal in the presence of the whole 
 family, and, to prove his sincerity, offered to take his mother 
 along as guard. 
 
 " It would do mother good to visit Nellie," he said, " and, 
 upon my honor, Bella ought to go there ; and now that I 
 have given in, and am conquered, I want to show how 
 I bear it."
 
 252 BELLA ; 
 
 All but Harry acquiesced. He looked at Frederic, and 
 said keenly, " If you play me false in this thing, you shall 
 rue the day." 
 
 Frederic smiled, and tapped his boot with his ivory cane. 
 Harry afterwards said to Bella, "I have no faith in him ; but, 
 if we can avoid another rupture, we will. Mother will be 
 with you to New York : you will meet me at the station 
 there. Mr. and Mrs. Beale will be with me, and we will 
 be off." 
 
 It was on a lovely, balmy day, toward the even-tide, when 
 the broad street seemed quiet as a country road, and the 
 salt-water breezes came over Brooklyn in ocean fragrance, 
 that Bella stood on the steps of an elegant house, bidding 
 her sister her last adieux. Nature was wearing her gor 
 geous spring robe. The air was full of life and love. The 
 tiniest hum seemed of peace. The grand houses stood 
 around in spring-time freshness and quiet. Far away the 
 ships studded the sea, and the sailors enjoyed the bright, 
 warm day. On land, grand carriages rolled ; and the occu 
 pants, enrobed in luxury, inhaled the aromatic air without 
 a thought of suffering in such a beautiful world. A police 
 man, standing near, found -no occupation, and idly gazed 
 at th e carriage drawn up before Dr. Bergmann s house. 
 Bella threw her arms about her sister s neck, and gave her 
 a long embrace. 
 
 " I have had a charming visit," she said; and smiles rip 
 pled over her happy face. She kissed her sister and mother ; 
 and then, stooping, she kissed a German-looking child, and 
 tripped lightly down the walk. Frederic stood at the car 
 riage-door. She entered, and waved her last farewell as 
 the carriage rolled away. Frederic sat on the soat opposite 
 her. His face wore its blandest smile ; and she thought 
 how handsome he was, and how proud she could be of him
 
 OK, THE CRADLE OF LIBERTY. 253 
 
 as her brother. His hardness towards her was forgotten and 
 forgiven. At that moment every thing was forgiven. She 
 was too happy to cherish resentment. She forgot the un 
 happy past, and thought only of what was to come. She 
 was now on her way to meet Harry at the cars that were 
 to bear her to her home whither her heart had long since 
 been borne. 
 
 Steadily forward they went. The sleek horses obeyed 
 the impulse of the driver, and they soon left the quiet of 
 Brooklyn behind. The scenes changed. They entered 
 the thronging city, went up into the busy thoroughfares 
 where men trade for souls, and women walk in pride, meas 
 uring each other by gold. Frederic was silent. Not even 
 the ends of the mustache stirred, and Bella watched the 
 multitudes. 
 
 Suddenly the carriage stopped. Another carriage stood 
 waiting. Frederic said, " All right," and the driver leaped 
 to the pavement. Frederic pushed open the carriage-door. 
 The door of the other carriage was already open. Bella 
 looked on with surprise. 
 
 " What ! " she exclaimed. " Are we to get out here ? " 
 
 "I must leave you here," he answered, with unwonted 
 suavity. " I have some business engagements. These 
 gentlemen will see you to the cars. Keep up good "heart, 
 whatever comes." 
 
 He drew out his watch, glanced at it, and added quickly. 
 " Upon my honor ! I have need to hasten." 
 
 A chill went through the soul of the girl as she left her 
 carriage, and entered the other carriage with the two strange 
 men. She looked wistfully at Frederic. He was her 
 brother, and she was going far away. She might not see 
 him again. "Forgive me, Frederic," she said, "I have 
 sometimes thought hard of you." 
 
 22
 
 254 BELLA ; 
 
 " Don t speak of it," he responded. " Some time you 
 will be brought to reason, I hope." 
 
 Then he turned away. The men had transferred her 
 trunks. One of them sprang into the carriage, the other 
 went up with the driver. The two carriages parted, even 
 as we often part to meet on earth no more. Bella felt a 
 pang, but it was quickly followed by a gush of relief. She 
 thought of Harry, and how he would be relieved at finding 
 Frederic gone. " There will be no danger at the station 
 now," was her silent thought. " Frederic will not be there 
 to see Mr. and Mrs. Beale, and we shall have every thing 
 as Harry has planned. Dear old Harry ! He is waiting 
 for me now ! A few minutes more, and I shall be with him, 
 on my way to " happiness, she was about to add ; but 
 something in the street attracted her. Looking out from 
 the carriage, she watched the people hurrying to and fro, 
 and her soul filled with a quiet such as a tempest-tossed 
 mariner might feel as the shores of his haven came in view. 
 
 And Frederic rode away to his business with a manner 
 composed as of one who had accomplished an important 
 purpose. He had no misgivings ; but said in his heart, 
 "Upon my honor, what else can I do? Shall I see her 
 throw herself away ? She might have married into the 
 highest family of the land, and she would have adorned the 
 sphere. Can I see her wilfully throw herself away on a 
 Beale ? Never; and, if Harry had the sense of his family s 
 dignity, he would not be led around by the folly of a girl. 
 Pity he hadn t married, and had a woman of his own to 
 attend to. Then he wouldn t be so susceptible to whimper 
 ing tears. As to Edward well, the truth is I mean no 
 aspersion on my parents but Edward and Bella, the chil 
 dren of old age, were spoiled by petting. Well, I must 
 do what I can with such refractory young people. And 
 now for business. I may as well make the best of my trip, 
 now that I am here. Let me see."
 
 OR, THE CRADLE OP LIBERTY. 255 
 
 He took from his pocket an ivory memorandum, and 
 glanced at the leaves, then drew the coachman s string. 
 " To No. Broadway." 
 
 Yes, Harry was waiting. He stood on the platform be 
 side the long Western train. Hurry and bustle were all 
 around him ; but he was cool and calm. One thumb was 
 in his vest armhole, one foot akimbo, and he seemed as 
 carelessly at ease as a clear conscience and firm health 
 could put a man. The two old people were snugly placed 
 on a seat where no window could betray them, and Harry 
 felt like a sentry whose charge was safe. He watched the 
 carriages drive down, watched each fresh arrival, and grew 
 impatient. He whistled, consulted his watch, placed his 
 other foot akimbo, then stood on both feet square, put up 
 his watch, and drew a long breath. He heard the signals 
 of the approaching start; saw people hurrying in; saw 
 baggage-men hurling the big trunks; heard some speaking 
 in haste ; and pulling off his hat, he wiped the perspiration 
 from his brow. But no Bella came. 
 
 " The deuce ! " he ejaculated, jamming his hat on, and 
 stepping forward to scan the carriages once more. 
 
 " Yes; there they come, at last. Thank God! No: it 
 is not they. It is an old man with two young girls. Great 
 heavens ! Don t they know the time ? Will they miss 
 the train ? " 
 
 He broke into increased, perspiration. The cars were 
 beginning to tremble. The passengers were in. The plat 
 form was deserted. Preparations were complete. Steam 
 was ready, but no Bella. " Good God I " he ejaculated. 
 " Where is she ? Are they all stark mad? " 
 
 The train began to glide. He saw it with one eye cast 
 backward ; and those old people were on it. What should 
 he do ? What could he do ?
 
 256 BELLA ; 
 
 "Great heavens!" he muttered breathlessly. "What 
 shall I do?" 
 
 The train still moved. Car after car glided on. He gave 
 one searching glance through the streets. No carriage com 
 ing. Nothing like Bella to be seen. The cars were going. 
 Mr. and Mrs. Beale were in them. He whirled, flew, his 
 coat flew after him, but he did it. He reached the train, 
 caught the last rail of the last car, and stumbled on to the 
 last step. He was safe, except a bruise on the hand by 
 which he swung. A man helped him up with a reproving 
 -caution. "Risky business, that, sir. You should be more 
 careful." Harry made a slight reply, then straightened 
 himself, and pressed through from car to car. He found 
 the old people in a fever of anxiety. They calmed at his 
 approach, but trembled again at his tale. 
 
 " We cannot go," said Mrs. Beale decidedly. " We 
 must get out, and wait for another train." She arose as she 
 spoke. 
 
 Mr. Beale laid his hand on her arm. " Sit down, 
 mother. We must go. Don t make yourself conspicuous. 
 Don t you see the cars are moving ? " 
 
 " But they haven t gone far." 
 
 " What of that ? We are in them, and we cannot get 
 out." 
 
 " True true, " she murmured, and sat down with a 
 blankness in her face. " What shall we do ? " 
 
 Harry mused, and then said, " There is only one way. 
 At the first town where there is a hotel, I must leave you 
 while I go back. Of course we cannot go without Bella." 
 
 And thus, in the midst of anxiety, they steamed on, with 
 the great train thundering in their ears. 
 
 " I won t ! I won t ! I won t ! I will never step my foot in 
 there as long as I live ! I never will ! Let me alone !
 
 OR, THE CEADLE OF LIBERTY. 257 
 
 Let me alone ! Let me alone, I say ! " and, as the speaker 
 ejaculated, she struck her hands out wildly each side of 
 her. The two men who had her stepped back. Another 
 came forward. He was a stranger. His hair was combed 
 lightly up, his forehead was broad and serene, his counte 
 nance pleasant and fair, and his manner genial. He was 
 a gentleman, a true-hearted gentleman. It pained him to 
 see a beautiful young lady in such excitement. He extended 
 his hand gently. His smile was winning, his voice pleas 
 ant. 
 
 "My dear young lady, do not be agitated. We will not 
 hurt you. 
 
 She struck his hand, and turned away. 
 
 " Take me back ! " she said to the two men. " Take me 
 back, or I will walk back." 
 
 But at her first step, the pleasant gentleman laid his 
 hand upon her wrist. The grasp was gentle, but firm. It 
 held her like a vice. Then he motioned the two men. 
 
 " Bring her trunks right in. We will take care of 
 her. She will be all right soon." 
 
 Then he took her hand, and started forward. She jerked 
 away, and turned upon him. 
 
 " I will not go in ! I say I will not go in ! It is an asy 
 lum ! I know it is ! I will never go in ! " 
 
 " Beckon she has seen such places before," said one of 
 the men who had brought her. "She has been raving 
 ever since we took the cars. She was peaceable enough till 
 then. Then she began to rave that we were wrong, and to 
 talk about her brother whom she was going to meet. But, 
 you see, it was her brother whom we took her from ; 
 and " 
 
 "It is an other brother," interposed the girl, turning upon 
 her jailers. " Haven t I more than one brother ? " 
 
 " There, my dear, do not talk," said the pleasant-faced 
 22*
 
 258 BELLA ; 
 
 gentleman. "These men are going away, and then you 
 shall tell us all about it. We would like to know about 
 your brothers." 
 
 " My brothers," the girl repeated slowly, and emphati 
 cally : " I have one who is killing me." 
 
 "No, my dear young lady.. You are mistaken. Nobody 
 wants to harm you." 
 
 He bowed a farewell to the two men, and once more 
 attempted to lead her in ; but she jerked from him like a 
 lightning flash, and leaped for the door. Alas ! The man 
 was not alone, and there was no escape for her. Another 
 man rushed forward, intercepted her, and held her till his 
 superior reached her again. The superior spoke more 
 sternly now, and his pleasant face darkened with decision. 
 "Miss Forresst, you must submit yourself quietly. Do 
 not compel us to use force." 
 
 " I will never go in there, never, never ! " she said firmly. 
 "I have been cruelly treated, basely brought here. It is a 
 house of torture. It is a house of death. I will never step 
 a foot within its halls, never, never! " 
 
 A third person now appeared. She was a woman of 
 mature age. Well dressed she was, tall, straight, and firm; 
 and a woman who never failed in an emergency. 
 
 "Miss Partridge," said the leading gentleman, "you are 
 just the person I need." 
 
 Bella saw her coming, and raised a piercing scream. "I 
 know what you are," she cried. " I see your keys. You 
 are the supervisor of an asylum. Go away from me ! Go 
 away from me ! Frederic, Frederic ! what have you done 
 tome?" 
 
 They carried her to a settee; they brought in her trunks, 
 and set them down. Then she bounded from her seat, and 
 started forward wildly. , 
 
 " Where are those men ? They must take me back. I
 
 OR, THE CRADLE OP LIBERTY. 259 
 
 must go to Harry. I must, must go. What will Harry 
 think? What will he do? Harry, Harry! Frederic 
 will kill me." 
 
 " We had better take her up stairs," said the pleasant 
 gentleman. Miss Partridge called him " Dr. Gracio," and 
 assented to his suggestion. 
 
 They took hold of Bella s hands gently but firmly. She 
 jerked again, but there was no escape. Then she stood 
 upright, and assumed the dignity of a princess. Her eyes 
 flashed till the very sparks emitted seemed royal fire. It 
 was the latent, ancestral fire of the -ancient English Mon 
 tagues ; but these people knew it not. They thought it 
 insanity. 
 
 " Doctor," said Miss Partridge, " this business is not 
 proper for you. Send for Moreton." 
 
 Then Moreton came, a stout : sandy-whiskered man, the 
 supervisor of the men s department. Tender Dr. Gracio 
 stepped one side. He never liked to see the hard side of 
 his institution. Every thing must be pleasant around him. 
 He retired to his own room, and his emissaries took up 
 the work. They carried her up the winding stairs, they 
 " led her to the den." They laid her on the narrow bed. 
 Then Moreton went out, and Miss Partridge removed the 
 beautiful hat, the gloves, and other outer attire. Bella 
 wept. Great gushing tears poured from her eyes. This 
 was well. Without those tears, she would have been what 
 they pretended she now was. Ah, blessed Nature ! Is 
 not she her own best restorative ? Weeping saved her 
 from madness ; and when her tears had assuaged the heat 
 of her excited system, and she lay calm, Dr. Gracio came 
 up to see her. 
 
 " I am very anxious for her," the doctor said to Miss 
 Partridge. " Her brother s letter described her case feel 
 ingly. She has an hallucination that she is going to be
 
 260 BELLA ; 
 
 married, and has even left home prepared for her bridal. 
 Of course her friends are greatly pained." 
 
 "She has been in an asylum before, I judge," said 
 Miss Partridge. 
 
 " She has just escaped from one. Her hallucination is 
 of long standing. If we could banish it from her mind, 
 and restore her to herself, it would be quite an addition to 
 our fame." 
 
 Bella watched them speaking. When they were done, 
 she raised herself and said, " I wish you would let me tell 
 you how it is." Dr. Gracio smiled approvingly ; and, sit 
 ting there, she told him her history, briefly but truly, end 
 ing with her appointment to meet Harry. " And now," 
 she added beseechingly, "I do wish you would let me go 
 back to New York. What will Harry think ? " 
 
 " But, my dear, you could not find Harry now. He must 
 be gone ere this." 
 
 " No, Harry is not gone. He would not go without me. 
 He is somewhere looking for me. He does not know where 
 to find me." 
 
 "Yes, my dear, he knows. Your friends know where 
 you are." 
 
 " Harry does not know. It is Harry I want. Do help 
 me find him. Do let me go out of this place. Oh, these 
 cruel, cruel prisons ! " 
 
 Dr Gracio stepped gently forward, and laid his fingers 
 on her pulse. The beats were quick and feverish. He 
 turned to Miss Partridge. " Do the best you can. I will 
 send up an opiate." 
 
 He went out, and Bella raised her eyes imploringly. " I 
 do not want an opiate. I want to go free. Do tell the 
 doctor to give me my freedom. Nothing else will do me 
 any good." 
 
 " By and by we will see about it. Keep calm now, my
 
 OR, THE CRADLE OF LIBERTY. 261 
 
 dear young lady. Do not distress yourself. We will do 
 every thing for you that lies in our power." 
 
 "I do not want you to do anything forme. I know 
 what I want. Nothing that you can do will be of the least 
 use, as long as you keep me here." 
 
 But what did her entreaties avail ? Only to be met with 
 smiles and gentle persuasions, and in the end a quieting 
 potion. She fell into sleep. The powerful opiate laid her 
 physical frame in slumber, and her soul was obliged to rest ; 
 but when she awoke she was still more distressed, for time 
 was passing, and every added moment seemed an age 
 separating her farther and farther from her goal. Three 
 days passed. Three days of hopeless waiting, walking, 
 watching, thinking, longing. 
 
 She was treated here as a private patient, but she was 
 none the less a prisoner. Mr. Frederic had forwarded to 
 Dr. Gracio a check for heavy advance payment, with direc 
 tions to draw upon him for any amount necessary, and a 
 request that his sister should receive every available luxury. 
 Frederic had tried hospital roughness as a cure for her ob 
 stinacy ; now he would try the opposite course ; and 
 smiling Dr. Gracio complied with his request. He liked 
 patients backed by men with big purses and generous 
 minds. A few such inmates were worth halls full of the 
 other class. He began his work vigorously. He gave 
 Bella ingress to his own family circle, kept her within his 
 own well-furnished apartments, took her to ride in his own 
 private carriage, and his wife even condescended to ride 
 with them. They rode through the streets of the town, 
 and skirted its most pleasant borders. They conversed 
 upon chosen topics, and entertained her with the choicest 
 bits of their social lives. But what did she care for these ? 
 Even while they were talking, her heart cried in secret 
 agony, cried for her own, for freedom, and for those she
 
 2G2 BELLA ; 
 
 loved. These strangers were nothing to her. She did 
 wish they would let her alone. She might have lived 
 thus during all her life without seeing unkindness, or 
 hearing any thing that indicated wretchedness in the 
 buildings about her. All disagreeable sights were kept 
 from her; but she felt, notwithstanding, the bands of 
 force, and even in all this kindness she saw the hidden 
 elements of their power. 
 
 But Dr. Gracio did not consider himself as using force. 
 He brought in every appliance of kindness. He put his 
 patient into a large, well-furnished chamber, around which 
 there was no appearance of prison or restraint. The 
 windows were natural as all house-windows, even the door 
 was not locked. Seeing this, Bella said to herself, "I 
 will watch my chance. I will get away." But however 
 stealthily she left the room, by day or by night, slie could 
 not get beyond the passage ; for there sat all the time a 
 guard, a special attendant : and often as Bella entered 
 the passage, the attendant said, "Do you wish any thing, 
 Miss Forresst ? " Receiving a negative answer, the girl 
 went on. " Are you going out ? I will go with you, and 
 guide you wherever you would like to go." 
 
 " Guide me to the station," said Bella. 
 
 " Certainly, if Dr. Gracio will give me permission." 
 
 The girl spoke in the kindest tones, and made herself 
 into an obsequious servant ; yet she was a prison-mistress, 
 and Bella felt it. What cared she to walk with such a 
 guard at her side ? What was all this kindness but barbed 
 arrows. 
 
 Dr. Gracio set apart servant waiters for his distinguished 
 patient. They carried food to her from his own table. 
 Delicate frostings, rich meats, luscious fruits, and sweet 
 preserves went to her every day ; and her body was nour 
 ished with the choicest food. It was indeed a blessing;
 
 OR, THE CRADLE OF LIBERTY. 263 
 
 and she contrasted it with the food in her former asylum, 
 . and said to herself, " If we could live by bread alone, then 
 surely we could be contented here : *but we cannot live by 
 bread alone ; there was One who said we could not. We 
 must have words from the mouth of God, and those words 
 are love and truth and peace. I cannot find them here. 
 These people are kind, wonderfully kind ; and yet my 
 heart will break, break ! Where is Harry ? What will he 
 think ? Can he ever find me ? Who knows where I am 
 except those strange men and Frederic ? And Frederic 
 will not tell. The strange men Harry will not see. How 
 will he find me ? I will write. No : I cannot write. 
 With all their kindness they would not let me mail a 
 letter. No. Crazy people must not write unless their 
 letters are supervised, because they worry their friends by 
 writing. And, under cover of this excuse, all sor^s of de 
 ceptions are practiced, and cruelties too. I wonder if there 
 are such cruelties here as I used to see. Dr. Gracio is so 
 kind, would he permit such things? And Miss Partridge 
 is an intelligent lady. If I were in the halls, should I see 
 her do as I have seen supervisors do ? " 
 
 For an answer to these questions we must not look in 
 the rooms around Bella. We must follow Miss Partridge 
 to the corridors and distant halls, where she is a different 
 person. She is not a woman of hasty temper ; but* calm, 
 precise, and disciplines for the sole purpose of obedience, 
 with a cool resolution to keep order, and have the patients 
 know their places. Is she a Christian ? She thinks she 
 is. Let us see how she cured Lucy Brown of " sauciness." 
 
 Lucy was the daughter of poor but virtuous parents. 
 She had been disappointed in love ; and being of a deli 
 cate, high-toned temperament, she was bewildered after it. 
 Her doctor said she was insane, and prescribed an asylum. 
 Perhaps she was insane. Her great disappointment may
 
 2G4 BELLA ; 
 
 have overwhelmed her tender mind, and caused aberration. 
 But, in all his pharmacopoeia, had he no restorative but this ? 
 To a mind already crushed under its sorrow, why did lu 
 add greater sorrow, putting the young girl where there was 
 nothing to make her happy, nothing to take away the 
 poignancy of her grief, and where no new love could come 
 to soften the pain, or alleviate memories ? 
 
 Lucy s father had no money with which to meet the 
 expenses of the asylum; but the doctor told him that was 
 of no consequence. The State provided for that. Thus 
 Lucy, in reward for her virtue, was made a poor patient. 
 She was carried to the asylum, and added to the long list 
 whose names helped swell the funds. They gave her a 
 cot two feet in width. During the day it was packed 
 away in a cell ; at night it was brought out into the hall, 
 and Lucy slept on it. She had no room to herself, nor 
 even a drawer for her clothes. She felt like one in punish 
 ment. It seemed to her that she must have done some 
 wrong, and she tried to recall some blot or stain ; but her 
 record was clear, her conscience pure. Then she felt that 
 her situation was unjust. Young and high-toned, she 
 could not submit to this life, and to the caprices of the 
 attendants. She could not believe that girls, in no wise 
 her superior, ought to order her from day to day, driving 
 her to, work or sit still, as their whims seized them. She 
 determined she would not submit, and answered them 
 back with words as high-spirited as their own. They 
 appealed to Partridge ; and she undertook to "break Lucy 
 in." She put her in a chair, and bound her down with a 
 leather strap. Two attendants assisted. Then they pro 
 cured a bucket of cold water, dipped a sheet in it, and 
 then threw the wet sheet over her head, gathering the 
 folds behind her neck, and tightening it until the points 
 of her features showed through the cloth. Then they
 
 OR, THE CRADLE OF LIBERTY. 265 
 
 seized the wet folds behind, and shook her with force. She 
 shivered; and cold chills ran from her head to her feet. 
 
 Then Miss Partridge said, " There ! will you stop be 
 ing saucy now?" Poor Lucy bowed her head. She 
 could not speak ; but they understood her assent. She 
 was released, and turned again under the attendants, who 
 tantalized her more than before. She hated them now, 
 and told them so. This time Miss Partridge took her 
 away to a blinded room, strapped her into a chair again, 
 and fastened the chair to the floor. Then, throwing a 
 shawl over her shoulders, she left her there all the day and 
 all the night. Alone, through the dark hours, she sat 
 there. She heard the night-winds moan, heard the 
 nightly groans, the night-watch tramp; and all those dark 
 hours she sat in her bound chair. It seemed to her that 
 the morning would never dawn : and the striking of the 
 clocks, at one, two, three, four, were so many knells. Alas ! 
 they were knells. They struck her sensitive system with 
 thrills of unearthly dread. She grew cold ; but her hands 
 were tightly bound. The shawl slipped from her shoul 
 ders; but she could not draw it up. She could reach 
 neither blanket nor extra garment. While the world 
 around slept, she sat thus in the house where the doctors 
 had put her for cure. What shall we call this remedy ? 
 Does science or Christianity afford a name ? We call 
 those murderers who kill the body : what shall we call 
 those who shut up minds, and let them slowly die ? 
 
 To Lucy those night hours in that lone cell were fearful 
 beyond description ; and darkness in loneliness had a mean 
 ing she had never suspected. Miss Partridge came in the 
 morning ; and said solemnly, as if duty laid upon her, 
 "Now do you think you can be obedient to your attend 
 ants, and stop your sauciness ? " 
 
 Lucy answered faintly, " Yes." She was released then ; 
 
 23
 
 206 BELLA ; 
 
 and Miss Partridge said, (t ^ think she is conquered. I 
 have known women to sit out three such nights before 
 they would yield. Some are subdued at two ; and some 
 give up in one." 
 
 Miss Partridge was correct. Lucy was conquered. She 
 obeyed the slightest word of the attendants. She obeyed 
 everybody. She never again had a will of her own ; never 
 again had a sparkle in her eyes, nor a smile on her cheeks ; 
 never expressed a want; never had natural sense. She 
 was cured of sauciness. 
 
 Dr. Gracio, tender-hearted man, never saw the hard acts 
 of his institution. He said to his officers, " Take them 
 away, take them out into the corridors ; " and he liked offi 
 cers who were self-reliant, and could discipline without his 
 aid. For this reason he prized Miss Partridge ; and for 
 this reason he also prized Moreton, chief supervisor in the 
 men s department. Moreton was a huge man, with a stolid 
 face, and a chin deep-set and massive jawed. He was per 
 fectly self-reliant, considered himself competent to man 
 age insane people, and boasted of his prowess as Miss 
 Darius did of hers. He was experienced in the business, 
 and liked it. 
 
 " Shet up yer head ! " said Moreton to a pale, sickly lad 
 who was worrying about home. "Blast yer! I ll put yer 
 carcass where yer can groan to the silent walls ! " AVith 
 that he seized the boy, and dragged him by the heel across 
 the hall, one hundred and eight feet, and then jammed 
 him into a cell. The floor of the hall was full of splinters 
 and rough slivers, that pricked through the boy s clothes, 
 and remained sticking in his shoulders; but what of that? 
 It was but a source of amusement to Moreton, who laughed 
 loudly at the boy s moans. 
 
 "Take that, will yer? " said Moreton, thrusting his fist 
 into a man who was attempting to pass him at an open hall
 
 OR, "THE CRADLE OF LIBERTY. 267 
 
 door. The man was a new comer, who had not yet learn 
 ed the strict prison discipline, and seeing the door open 
 ed, he started to go out. " And that ! " added Moreton, 
 a second time planting his fist in the stomach of the 
 patient. That blow laid the man flat on his back. Then 
 there came an attendant, and helped Moreton. They 
 pitched the poor man into a cell, and there stamped upon 
 and jammed him till life seemed expiring. Then they left 
 him there, and for several weeks he was not seen again. 
 
 Dr. Gracio s establishment had a reputation for superior 
 management, and Moreton was an excellent representative 
 of asylum government. Jeremiah Hurd, a man of forty 
 years, had been promised to go home, but, like many others, 
 had to live on promises (there being no fulfilment), and 
 was still held in bonds. He grew discouraged, felt that the 
 promises would never be kept, that he should never go out 
 of his prison, and grew still more discouraged. Then he 
 took the prison-march ; and, as he walked back and forth on 
 the rough floor, splinters of the boards peeled up, and, pier 
 cing through the soles of his slippers, entered his feet, and 
 remained in the flesh till festering sores were produced. 
 These increased in numbers and size, till they spread and 
 joined together. His feet became like jelly, and began to 
 swell. The inflammation increased, growing higher, till it 
 reached his body. Then his jaws began to set, no food 
 could be got between his teeth, he grew sick, and death 
 drew near, so very near that the attendants even grew 
 alarmed. Still death drew on : nothing now could save the 
 man ; and the doctor, seeing the necessity, sent for the wife. 
 She came ; but every moment while she sat by her dying 
 husband, Moreton sat there also. He feared the wife 
 might turn back the bed-clothes, and see those feet. That 
 night Mr. Hurd died. He was carried from the asylum in 
 an elegant coffin, provided by his wife. The jellied feet
 
 268 BELLA ; 
 
 were hidden deep within it. Thus was ended the man 
 who had been repeatedly told that he should soon go 
 home. One patient, holder than the others, asked Dr. 
 Gracio why he did not let Mr. Hurd go home when he 
 promised him. " Because he was a stubborn man," said 
 the doctor ; " and his persistency in his determination to go 
 home was from his insanity." 
 
 "It is very curious," the patient responded. "The other 
 day I asked you wherein Chase was insane ; and you said 
 because he did not want to go home. You said that ration 
 al persons would want to go home." 
 
 Dr. Gracio s pleasant face clouded. He turned from this 
 patient. By what right should a patient question him ? 
 
 Moreton s example, as supervisor, was contagious among 
 the attendants. There was a Mr. Hames suffering from 
 physical disease. He begged for medicine, but did not get 
 it. He grew worse, and begged yet more earnestly. But 
 he was not humble and suave ; for he was a man of natural 
 independence, and could not brook the lordly manners of 
 the attendants. He reproved them : they were angry, and 
 would give him neither medicine, nor food such as he 
 could eat. Pie failed, grew weaker, and sank every day. 
 He begged for something better to eat, or for milk 
 to drink ; but nothing was given him. He was a man of 
 property, and offered to pay for what they would bring him ; 
 but they would not stir, and he lay there moaning and 
 groaning with pain, and with piteous cries implored them 
 to give him a drink of milk. They called his cries 
 "howling," and let him moan. He became exhausted, 
 suffering thus from day to day. At last the doctors were 
 alarmed, and came to him with offers of help. He said, 
 " Gentlemen, you are too late ! I am dying from neglect." 
 At ten o clock that night, the attendants covered him for 
 the last time. They drew up the bed-clothes, and turned
 
 OR, THE CRADLE OP LIBERTY. 269 
 
 away, saying, "Howl now if you want to!" Then they 
 went out, and locked the door. Mr. Hames was left 
 alone, a prisoner at the mercy of his keepers. Nobody 
 saw him again till morning. No one knew when he pass 
 ed away ; but, when they unlocked his cell door the next 
 morning, he was cold and stiff. He could beg no more for 
 medicine or milk, he could " howl " no more, nor would he 
 any more hear the harsh voices of the attendants. 
 
 There was Mr. Sharon, who was the particular object of 
 Moreton s experiments. Mr. Sharon was slightly deranged, 
 and sometimes talked a little flightily. Moreton put 
 him down in a lower wing, where there was no fire, jacket 
 ed him, and held him there in the cold days of December, 
 " to take the insanity out of him." He sank beneath such 
 hardships, and ran still lower. His hands were bound 
 tight in the jacket; and he could not move them, even to 
 cover himself when lying in his bed at night. If the bed 
 clothes slipped down, he could not draw them up. The 
 weather was freezing ; he had neither light nor fire ; and 
 even healthy men could scarce keep warm with the scant 
 hospital coverings. Shivering with cold, Mr. Sharon, still 
 bound in the jacket, weak and trembling, arose and paced 
 the floor. The death angel hovered over him, and was 
 visible on his face. The patients saw it ; but what were 
 they ? Who heeded their opinions ? He still ran down, 
 fainting daily under his strait-jacket, hunger, and the terri 
 ble cold. At length death stared out from every linea 
 ment. The attendants could no longer hide it. Even 
 Moreton saw it, and Dr. Gracio s oily words could no 
 longer smooth the rough place. Mr. Sharon was then 
 unbound, carried up to a warmer hall, bottles of warm water 
 were put to his feet, and nourishing drinks were brought 
 him ; but he had run too low for restoration, his chill? 
 were too deep for warmth to remove. They telegraphed to 
 
 23
 
 270 BELLA ; 
 
 his friends, who came to see him die. Then they carried 
 him away, and the sad scene was ended. 
 
 Charlie Peabody was a young man who had become 
 insane. Moreton kept him also in that cold wing. Dr. 
 Gracio and Moreton believed in scientific classifying. They 
 put the insane sick, or "worst cases " as they called them, 
 down into the lower wards, and had no fire for them there, 
 nor any comforts, holding them there in positions of 
 misery. Charlie grew weak and feeble and more insane. 
 He became too weak to walk even to the bathing-tub. 
 Moreton bade him go. Charlie said he could not. Then 
 the attendants took him and dragged him to the bath ; and, 
 filling the tub with cold water, they plunged him in. 
 This was to subdue him. He chilled, benumbed, grew 
 livid, and could not recover from the shock. The next day 
 he died. Thus another victim passed away. Another 
 coffin came to the great doors of the asylum; and the 
 patients, looking through their grated windows, saw it. 
 How often are coffins seen at those doors ! 
 
 But there is a worse affliction than death, and it fell 
 upon John Gould. Mr. Gould was a man of excellent 
 character and sterling principles. He was sent to the 
 asylum, as thousands are, by his doctor. Mrs. Gould had 
 said anxiously, "Is it a good place, doctor? Will he have 
 kind care ? " 
 
 "The best possible," was the medical reply. "Dr. 
 Gracio has not his superior in the country." 
 
 Two years had passed, and Mr. Gould still sat beneath 
 this noted physician s care. It seemed a long time. His 
 wife and family came to see him occasionally, but were 
 met by the suave words of Dr. Gracio, and went home, 
 leaving the husband and father still there, and leaving, 
 also, liberal sums for his board and care. Mr. Gould sat 
 still, and felt it all. He read also the scenes that passed
 
 OR, THE CRADLE OF LIBERTY. 271 
 
 around him, and roused at last to a belief in his own 
 rights. 
 
 " Doctor," said he," as Dr. Gracio was passing through 
 the hall, "I have written a letter to my wife, and sealed it. 
 Will you take it, and mail it ? " 
 
 "Oh, yes!" smiled the doctor; and, extending his hand, 
 he took it, and passed along. 
 
 Days lengthened into weeks, and no answer came. Mr. 
 Gould grew anxious. He had his suspicions, and de 
 termined to inquire. 
 
 "Doctor," said he when next he saw Dr. Gracio, "did 
 you send my letter?" 
 
 " Yes, sir," replied the doctor, hastening on through the 
 hall. 
 
 "Where?" called Mr. Gould. 
 
 " Into the fire ;" and still he hurried along. 
 
 Mr. Gould had not expected this blunt acknowledgment. 
 He was accustomed to seeing subterfuges and deceptions. 
 But here was an open, daring acknowledgment of wrong. 
 Mr. Gould was an upright man, who scorned such usurpa 
 tions. He sprang after Dr. Gracio, and seized him by the 
 shoulder. Then he looked him in the face, and said, " Are 
 you shameless ? Dare you say that you have burned the 
 letter you promised to send to my wife ? " 
 
 Almost before the words were uttered, two attendants 
 pounced upon Mr. Gould. They bound him down, they 
 kicked him, jerked him, and stamped upon him with their 
 nailed boots. One or two ribs broke ; but what of that ? 
 They took him to a cell, laid him on an iron bedstead, and 
 strapped him down, arms, body, and legs. Shall we say 
 how long he lay there ? The patients could not get into 
 his room, therefore they could not tell; but several weeks 
 passed ere he was again seen in the hall ; and then what 
 was he ? A wreck of humanity, a shadow of himself
 
 272 BELLA ; 
 
 He would no more write letters, he would ask no more for 
 freedom. His life henceforth would be a living death. 
 
 What were the objectionable words that the inquisitive 
 doctor found in that letter ? They were these : " My 
 dear wife, I have always e ndeavored to live a true and 
 godly life ; I have helped you rear a family of good chil 
 dren ; I have gathered and saved enough to support me in 
 my old age ; and now to be thrown into prison, to subsist 
 on prison rations, and spend my days in misery, seems hard. 
 I fear you are deceived," and so on. These truths cost Mr. 
 Gould his reason, which is more than life. 
 
 However many grow chronic or die within these walls, 
 no blame is ever attached to the institutions. The doctors 
 count up the cures, so-called, and publish them exaggerated : 
 the chronic and dying are of small account, lleformed 
 drunken men* help greatly in increasing the numbers of 
 cures. Sometimes one man is cured four times in a year. 
 He stays a while, is pronounced cured, goes out, drinks 
 again, is re-committed, and so continues. Every discharge 
 is recorded as a cure. Some people are cured, or roused 
 from mental illness, by the antagonistic effects of the sur 
 roundings. The injustices they see and hear rouse them to 
 a defiance that restores them, if they have strength to re 
 cuperate : if they have not strength for defiance, they sink 
 to chronic states or die. 
 
 Moreton was fond of " breaking in" patients, as hospital 
 managers call it. He tried to " break in " Mr. Randall, a 
 New-England man of fifty years, a man whose sons were 
 in Chicago, and other parts of the West, among the enter 
 prising of those places. Mr. Randall had the misfortune 
 to fall into the hands of the medical faculty, and thence 
 into the asylum. He was a sturdy, solid man, and could not 
 see the justice of his "treatment." Moreton and the at 
 tendants "put the screws to him." We beg pardon of the
 
 OR, THE CRADLE OP LIBERTY. 273 
 
 public for using this expression ; but, if we describe prison- 
 scenes, we must use prison language. Mr. Randall was 
 kicked and stamped with nailed boot-heels till the marks 
 covered his body. Hope and life paled under such cruel 
 ties. A patient, looking on, exclaimed, " Good God ! We 
 have societies for the prevention of cruelty to animals, 
 where are the societies for the prevention of cruelty to 
 human beings ? Shall man, created in God s image, in this 
 day and generation, be thus subjected to man s brutality? 
 Why is it that intelligent men shut up here, and witness 
 ing such horrors, do not tell of them to the world ? " 
 
 "Because," said another patient, "when men get out 
 of here, they want to shake off the dust of these remem 
 brances, and do not care to publish their sorrows to the 
 world from very shame." 
 
 Reports of the cell-deaths do not often reach the outer 
 world. The witnesses of these deaths are angels and the 
 unseen God. The records are kept in the archives of the 
 place whither we are all going. We shall meet them there ; 
 and then we shall read how the people were lying alone in 
 their little cells ; and there was no one by to wipe the 
 death-damps from their brows, or to whisper in tones of 
 soothing love. Then we shall read, also, how the spirits 
 and angels of the great God came and took the sufferers 
 away. Earthly tablets bear no stories of these lone depar 
 tures; yet such deaths are occurring in every asylum and 
 prison and locked-up house. 
 
 In those cells people lie, and die as they live, helpless, 
 hopeless prisoners. The trustees walk through the halls ; 
 and many patients look forward to their coming with hope, 
 but their hopes fail when the gentlemen come. The eagle 
 eyes of the overseers and attendants prevent approach to 
 the men, as they walk through with the doctors by their 
 sides. Or, if patients do dare to speak, the ears of the trus 
 tees seem not to hear.
 
 274 BELLA ; 
 
 " Gentlemen," said a patient one day, rising boldly, and 
 meeting them, in Dr. Gracio s establishment, "if you 
 wish to know how things are here, you should stay day 
 and night. You can find out in no other way." 
 
 Moreton, following in the rear, ground his teeth, and 
 glared at the patient. 
 
 " The Devil take Jones," he muttered. " I should like 
 to lay hands on him ; and I will by and by. I ll shake 
 daylight out of him, by G ." 
 
 Dr. Gracio cut the scene short by hurrying the gentle 
 men forward ; and going out of the hall door, he locked it 
 behind them, saying, "Mr. Jones is a very crazy man. 
 You must excuse his speaking." 
 
 Mr. Jones, standing within, helpless, thought, " They 
 may pass us by, nor listen to our complaints ; but there is 
 One whom they cannot shut out. His eyes see; his ears 
 hear; and he will rise in judgment to save his suffering 
 ones." 
 
 Sometimes, for successive days, and even weeks, Dr. 
 Gracio s sensitiveness would not permit him to go through 
 the halls, except a supervisor walked by his side, to prevent 
 the patients speaking to him. If he walked through 
 alone, the patients, feeling that he had absolute power in 
 the house, went to him with complaints and requests. 
 Miss Partridge told the women that they annoyed the 
 doctor exceedingly by this course ; but they only answered, 
 " Who shall we go to ? If Dr. Gracio cannot listen to the 
 wants of his patients, let him resign, and let the place be 
 filled by some one who can listen." 
 
 Miss Partridge turned, disgusted, from such unreasona 
 ble, remarks. "As though a man like Dr. Gracio was 
 going to wear himself out in listening to such as you!" 
 she curtly observed. 
 
 Therefore he walked sedately through j and Miss Par-
 
 OR, THE CRADLE OF LIBERTY. 275 
 
 tridge walked sedately beside him. Not a woman dared to 
 speak, however pressing her wants. When he finished his 
 tour in the women s halls, Moreton took him through the 
 men s; and he was safe then. Misery dared not speak in 
 his presence, nor could anguish utter a word. 
 
 Out in the world Miss Partridge would have passed as a 
 very nice woman, a lady of decision, but none the less 
 respected on- that account. And Moreton was not more 
 brutal in free life than thousands of uneducated men ; 
 but this prison-life is a test, a* touchstone, that develops 
 qualities unthought of in open social life. There are peo 
 ple who will not, and cannot, stay as servants or attend 
 ants in these institutions : their sensibilities cannot en 
 dure such scenes ; and they leave. There are others who 
 can harden into the life, until nothing is too cruel for 
 them ; and these are the people who remain, as a general 
 rule. 
 
 Dr. Gracio wrote very excellent reports for printing and 
 public circulation. His words were as "apples of gold, 
 fitly chosen." His sentiments, as he expressed them, 
 were Christlike. He also had a flattering way of speaking, 
 among his patients, of the superior arrangements of his 
 house. It sounded like boasting; though he intended to 
 inspire them with the idea, that, under his care, they were 
 more comfortable than they would be in more illy-regulated 
 establishments. The patients to whom he talked were 
 the elegantly-dressed ladies in the " best hall." To the 
 wretched, in the long, dreary corridors, he never talked. 
 He said to a visiting lady one day, " We have no filthy 
 under-ground cells, "where we keep patients ; nor rooms 
 four feet square, in which they lie coiled ; nor rooms with 
 out ventilation." He often remarked thus to the friends 
 of the patients; and always with a bland, benevolent 
 expression of countenance, that led visitors to think him
 
 276 BELLA ; 
 
 the most excellent of men, and to publish his praises 
 wherever they went. 
 
 A patient, to whom he said the same, replied, " Doctor, 
 if you know of institutions where such cells are used, and 
 that human beings are suffering in them, why don t you 
 make the facts known to the public ?" 
 
 He made a slight reply, and turned away. "Patients 
 have such absurd ideas that there is no use in talking with 
 them," he murmured. 
 
 Thus asylum officials often say, "3 atients have such 
 insane ideas, that no trust can be placed in what they say. 
 There is no use in believing in them." 
 
 Thus by the word " insane," the officials disparage the 
 testimony of the persons who suffer under them, while 
 they go on in their unfeeling barbarities. 
 
 Asylum cruelties differ in different institutions. If Dr. 
 Gracio had no dungeons and underground rooms in use for 
 patients, he permitted his attendants full sway ; and the 
 very tenderness that he considered a virtue, by keeping 
 him aloof from whatever was disagreeable, left his attend 
 ants to their own devices ; and the patients endured the 
 consequences. Hence the sufferings in bath-tubs, when 
 ill-tempered attendants let cold water run over shivering 
 bodies ; and hence, too, the agonies in the blinded rooms, 
 when women, and men too, lay bound all night in leather 
 straps. 
 
 Was this fastidious superintendent ignorant of these 
 actions ? He certainly knew that the house was furnished 
 with camisoles, straps, and other instruments of bondage. 
 He knew, also, that attendants were constantly changing, 
 bringing in all kinds of tempers to rule his house. 
 
 Bella did not see these hard parts of Dr. Gracio s estab 
 lishment. Her chamber was near his own rooms ; conse 
 quently she was free from all unpleasant sounds. She saw
 
 OE, THE CRADLE OF LIBERTY. 277 
 
 only the smiles of Miss Partridge, the pleasant face of Dr. 
 Gracio, and the obsequiousness of the servants. But she 
 felt her own troubles. Secluded from all that was dis 
 agreeable in the house, and supplied with the best they 
 could bestow, she yet could find no happiness. She thought 
 of Harry, and walked her beautiful chamber, considering 
 and pondering. Time was passing. No news of her own 
 came to her. She was a stranger in a strange land, a 
 prisoner without hope. She passed and repassed before 
 her swinging mirror. She clasped her hands, her eyes up 
 turned to heaven, and her raven curls floated back in wild 
 disorder. Her lips moved in agonizing prayer. There 
 were no tears in her eyes ; but they burned like coals of 
 fire, and the light in them turned to wild despair. She 
 said in her heart, " No no. Harry will not come. He 
 will not find me ; for though he s a firm, strong man, though 
 he is good and true, Frederic is as firm and strong as 
 he, more polished, more subtle, as wicked as Harry is 
 good, as deceitful as Harry is true. Fred will not tell 
 Harry where I am. No, he will never tell. What 
 shall I do? I cannot bear it. I cannot, cannot, cannot 
 bear it. I will not, will not bear it." 
 
 The marble-topped table and bureau became as mere 
 dust in her eyes ; the carpet was as sand beneath her feet ; 
 and even her own flowing curls were matted and unkempt. 
 Her whole life was centred on the one point, freedom 
 against bondage ; and her soul was fearfully strained in the 
 contest. 
 
 " Calm ! " she exclaimed in soliloquy. " They tell me I 
 must be calm ! Why, I cannot be calm ! I do not want 
 to live ! If I cannot have freedom and peace on earth, let 
 me go to heaven. There are no iron bolts and bars in that 
 blest land. Here I can have no peace. Wherever I go, 
 Frederic will pursue me. Oh, what a wicked brother he 
 24
 
 278 BELLA ; 
 
 is ! But I could escape his wickedness, I could get away 
 from him, were it not for these prisons ! Why does my 
 country build these prisons, with their locks and keys ? To 
 shut up the sick and suffering, and cause them to suffer more; 
 to shut up people that they may weep unseen ; to give 
 wicked relatives a chance to rule the good ; to give blinded 
 relatives a chance to show their want of sight ; to give fool 
 ish doctors a way to get rid of patients whom they are too 
 ignorant to cure at home ; and to give a few officers of the 
 institution a chance to get rich. I know enough about asy 
 lums. They are cruel prisons. They feed on the blood of 
 families, and devour their victims. I hate their cruelties, 
 and I hate their kindnesses, so unlike free-life kindness. 
 I want my freedom. I want my mother. I want Harry 
 and Edward and Mortimer. If I can have none of these, 
 I want heaven. Father above ! if there is nothing more 
 for me but these imprisoned days and nights, take me to 
 thyself." 
 
 While she was walking thus, a servant looked in ; but 
 Bella took no notice. She continued walking and talking, 
 with her hands still clasped, her eyes upturned, and her 
 dishevelled tresses flowing. The servant ran out in affright, 
 flew across the passage, and down the stairs, calling, "Miss 
 Partridge, Miss Partridge, Miss Forresst is dreadful ! " 
 
 Then Miss Partridge went up, other women went, and 
 Dr. Gracio followed. They laid Bella on the bed. Fever 
 was in her eyes, fever was on her brain, her head was as 
 fire, her feet as ice, her breath came thick and hot, her 
 speech grew incoherent. She tossed and turned and raved, 
 and uttered half-formed phrases of Mortimer and Harry, 
 of Edward and Emily, and the Norwegian home. Thus 
 she lay, while the fever burned. Her eyes grew hopeless 
 and dim, she took no notice of those around her; the 
 thoughts she had were far away, and she moaned as in
 
 OR, THE CRADLE OF LIBERTY. 279 
 
 great pain. They watched and tended her, staid by her 
 day and night, gave her cooling drinks, and sought by 
 medical arts to assuage her distress. But she heeded not. 
 Her lips were parched, and her hair tangled as she turned 
 in her agony. They tried to comb it, and to keep it 
 smooth, but it would not stay. Miss Partridge said, " We 
 must cut it off ; " but Dr. Gracio answered, " It is a pity to 
 cut it. We will try a little longer." 
 
 Then they tried, but all in vain. She tossed and raved, 
 the curls matted yet more, and at length they severed 
 them, one by one ; and there she lay, with wild, glassy 
 eyes, .and shorn locks.
 
 280 BELLA j 
 
 CHAPTER XXIII. 
 
 ? S there anything more I can do for you ?" asked 
 Harry Forresst, as he stood in the centre of a small 
 hotel parlor beside old Mr. and Mrs. Beale. 
 
 "Nothing," they answered in concert. "We 
 shall be every way comfortable. Take good care of 
 yourself, and bring Bella back with you. That is all we 
 ask." 
 
 " Never fear for me," said Harry, with a full metallic 
 ring in his words. " You can trust me." 
 
 " Yes, yes, we can. Good-by." 
 
 " Good-by," said Harry ; " and in the next instant he was 
 outside the hotel, and on his way to the station to take the 
 train for New York. 
 
 " The old people will be comfortable," he said to himself, 
 as he hurried on. " A little lonely perhaps, but they 
 won t mind that. It is well I did not tell them all my sus 
 picions. How they would worry ! " 
 
 Indeed, it was well that he kept his thoughts secret. 
 He only told them, that probably some mistake as to time 
 had delayed Bella. In his heart he thought, " It is Fred, 
 at least, I fear he has done this " 
 
 What he meant by this, he hardly knew. He was not 
 given to speculative thoughts, and did not attempt to im 
 agine how Frederic had prevented Bella s going, but has 
 tened on, resolved to learn how, and to find her. He 
 reached New York, and, as soon as possible, appeared in
 
 OB, THE CKADLE OF LIBEETY. 281 
 
 Brooklyn, at his sister s house. He found company there, 
 guests whom his sister was entertaining ; but he heeded 
 them not. With a pre-occupied air he asked to see Mrs. 
 Bergmann in a private room. He was shown into a small 
 room, and Mrs. Bergmann soon entered. 
 
 " Why, Harry ! " she siiid, advancing to take his hand. 
 "I am quite surprised." 
 
 Harry did not take her hand. He was standing ; and he 
 turned towards her, his earnest eyes piercing her with their 
 inquiring expression. 
 
 " Nellie, where is Bella ? " 
 
 For a moment Mrs. Bergmann quailed. Then she said, 
 " I thought Bella was going with you." 
 
 Harry s eyes dilated. He looked at her more search- 
 
 " Is not Bella here, in this house ? " 
 
 " No, Harry. I told you I thought she was going with 
 you." 
 
 " Is mother here ? " he asked. 
 
 " No : mother and Frederic have gone hack to Boston." 
 
 " There I am going too ! Good-by." 
 
 He was half way out of the room before she compre 
 hended him. 
 
 "What do you mean, Harry? Where are you going?" 
 she called after him. 
 
 " To Boston," he answered ; and, closing the door behind 
 him, he was in the street ere she moved from her position. 
 Then she went to the window, and looked out, to be sure 
 she was not dreaming. She saw him going away with the 
 utmost velocity, never once turning his head to look back. 
 She watched till he disappeared from view; then murmur 
 ing, "Strange," she slowly returned to her guests. 
 
 Did you ever see a strong man rouse from a lifetime 
 reverie ? Did you ever see a firm man when he first be- 
 
 24*
 
 282 BELLA ; 
 
 came conscious that he had inward powers ? Such a man 
 at such a moment might have been seen by watching 
 Harry Forresst in that journey between New York and 
 Boston. Powers that had slumbered in him hitherto awoke 
 now, and he felt deep emotions such as he had never 
 dreamed he possessed. 
 
 As he stepped from the car in Boston, and moved majes 
 tically away from the station, he thought, " Yes, I am a 
 match for Frederic. I believe I have his strength of will ; 
 but God grant I may use it for a better purpose than 
 he." 
 
 Then his thoughts assumed a prayerful form ; and he said, 
 " Let me do right, Father, help me now ! " 
 
 He entered his sister s house, and he went straight to her 
 room. He stood before her, holding his hat in his left hand, 
 and said, "Eunice, where is Bella ? " 
 
 She was frightened, both at seeing him there, and at his 
 manner. Rising, she said, " I do not know. I thought 
 she went with you." 
 
 At that moment the mother entered; and Harry turned 
 to her. " Mother," said he, and a strange tenderness filled 
 his voice, " where is Bella? " 
 
 " Harry," replied the old lady, a tremor seizing her, 
 " isn t she with you ? " 
 
 " No, mother. I have not seen her ; but somebody knows 
 where she is, and I shall find out." 
 
 He started toward the door ; but the mother intercepted 
 him. 
 
 " Harry," she said solemnly, " do not go to Frederic now. 
 Wait." 
 
 " Why should I wait ? " 
 
 " My son, I see a strange light in your eyes ; and Freder 
 ic has a temper. I dare not have you two meet now." 
 
 Harry stooped, and put his arm gently about his mother.
 
 OK, THE CRADLE OF LIBERTY. 283 
 
 Then he said, "I know I am angry, as I never was angry 
 before ; but I shall curb my temper, in the strength of the 
 Lord I shall govern it. I shall do Frederic no bodily harm ; 
 but I must find Bella. Pray for me, mother, while I am 
 with my brother: I shall need your prayers. Eunice, be 
 tender of her." 
 
 Then he gently placed his mother in Eunice s arms, and 
 went out. 
 
 Frederic was busy as Harry entered his office. Some 
 gentlemen were with him. He was settling tfye details of 
 some business with them. A clerk was industriously writ 
 ing. 
 
 Frederic did not see Harry, nor hear him, till he was 
 aroused by a tap on his shoulder. He turned, and met 
 Harry face to face. 
 
 " Frederic," said Harry, " where is Bella ? " 
 
 " Upon my honor," was Frederic s reply, " I thought she 
 had emigrated with you." 
 
 Harry looked Frederic steadily in the eyes, and repeated 
 his question. 
 
 Where is Bella ? " 
 
 Frederic recoiled slightly. For the first time in his life 
 he retreated one slight step. The light of Harry s eyes 
 was too strong for him. He rallied, however, in a mo 
 ment, and replied haughtily, 
 
 "What should I know of her? You took her under 
 your care. Couldn t you keep her ? " 
 
 "Frederic!" said Harry, and his voice was hollow with 
 suppressed emotion, " where is Bella ? " 
 
 " Upon my honor ! " responded Mr. Frederic. " You 
 seem a little beside yourself, and have chosen a very inop 
 portune time to trouble me with your vagaries. Take a 
 seat, will you, till I have finished with these gentlemen ? " 
 
 Then, with polished ease, he turned to the gentlemen
 
 284 BELLA ; 
 
 who were staring with half-suppressed curiosity, and bland 
 ly said, " Pardon this interruption, gentlemen. We will 
 go on." 
 
 They went on, and every minutise was as carefully at 
 tended to as though no interruption had occurred ; and yet 
 Frederic knew that Harry s eyes were every moment fast 
 ened on him. 
 
 At last the two brothers were alone ; and there, in that 
 business office, they stood and looked each other in the face. 
 Harry repeated his question. 
 
 "Where is Bella?" 
 
 "You are very presuming," Frederic returned. "What 
 do I know of Bella ? You took her yourself, as you well 
 know." 
 
 "Frederic," said Harry, "you know she never came to 
 me. Tell me where she is, or I shall never leave your side, 
 nor cease to ask you where she is." 
 
 " So, then, we are to have two lunatics in the family ! 
 Upon my honor, you are as crazy as she is ! " 
 
 Harry made no reply ; but he fastened his eyes upon 
 Frederic s face, and remained quiet. Frederic arranged his 
 papers, wrote a little, but grew uneasy. Those eyes were 
 too powerful for him. He arose, called his clerk, gave him 
 a few directions, then took his cane and gloves, put his hat 
 upon his head, and went out. Harry followed; and, as 
 Frederic came upon the broad sidewalk, Harry was at his 
 side. 
 
 " Upon my honor," said Frederic, turning angrily 
 toward him. " This is unbearable. What do you want ? " 
 
 "Bella." 
 
 Frederic swung his cane, the mustache twitched, but he 
 did not speak ; and the two walked on. Frederic walked 
 at random, up one street, down another; but Harry was not 
 to be wearied. Sturdily, and steadily he marched by his 
 brother s side.
 
 OR, THE CRADLE OP LIBERTY. 285 
 
 At last Frederic s patience gave way. With an upward 
 fling of the cane, he turned to Harry. 
 
 " One would think you had lost your senses ! Why do 
 you follow me so ? " 
 
 " Tell ine what you have done with Bella." 
 " You are making a bold assertion," said Frederic. "I 
 indeed ! what have I done ? You took her yourself." 
 " Frederic," said Harry, his eyes emitting suppressed 
 wrath, " we will waste no words. I told you you would rue 
 the day you played me false. Tell me now into what asy 
 lum or other hole you have put Bella, or " 
 Frederic interrupted him. 
 
 Upon my honor ! If you have an accusation against 
 me, the law is open. You have threatened me with it : 
 now try it. Prove that I have put her anywhere." 
 
 " It is too late for law," Harry replied. " While I should 
 be getting out writs, and procuring evidence, she would be 
 pining, perishing, or going mad in those mad-houses ! 
 Besides, after I had proved every thing against you, she 
 would be still unfound ; for these institutions are all over 
 the country, and you can move her from place to place, keep 
 ing her always out of my reach. No: I shall not try law, 
 except the law of strength and right. Tell me what you 
 have done with her ! " and once more Harry s eyes pierced 
 Frederic s soul. It was a contest of strength against 
 strength : the strength of truth and right was pitted against 
 falsehood and wrong. Truth showed her supremacy. 
 Frederic felt that Harry s power over him was mightier 
 than men s laws. He could have equivocated in court, and 
 could have brought witnesses to sustain his position ; but 
 this silent witness of eye to eye was more than his nerves 
 could sustain. He turned towards his home, his mustache 
 and his cane twirling as by one spiral impulse. Harry kept 
 steady pace with every step. Frederic ascended the elegant
 
 286 BELLA ; 
 
 steps of his house. Harry went up by his side. Frederic 
 entered the hall and the drawing-room. Harry silently 
 entered with him. Frederic turned then, and glared at 
 him. 
 
 " How long do you intend to follow me ? " 
 
 "What have you done with Bella? " asked Harry. 
 
 Frederic turned, and went swiftly to the library. Harry 
 followed as quickly. The servants were attracted, and soon 
 notified Mrs. Forresst that her husband s brother had come 
 home with him, and they were " having a frolic in the li 
 brary." She ordered an extra plate laid, and presently 
 they were both summoned to dinner. They did not go. 
 Mrs. Forresst soon came in : she kindly asked if either 
 was ill. 
 
 " No : pre-occupied." Frederic answered. 
 
 She returned to the table, wondering. 
 
 An hour passed. Frederic had neither moved nor spoken. 
 Nor had Harry. Then Mrs. Forresst came again, and 
 pleaded to know the trouble. Neither of the men ex 
 plained it. 
 
 Another hour passed. Frederic opened a book. He 
 tried to read, and to appear indifferent ; but he could not. 
 Those eyes he never knew Harry had such eyes ! He 
 turned every way to get from their gaze, but he could not. 
 He rushed to the door to escape. Harry rushed with him. 
 He went silently back. Harry also returned. The doom 
 he had given Bella had recoiled upon himself. He was 
 under guard in his own house. The servants whispered 
 together. They began to suspect it was a serious frolic. 
 
 It was one o clock that night when Frederic s wife came 
 in, and, seating herself between the two men, began seri 
 ously to inquire the cause of their strange conduct. Little 
 by little she found it out. Slowly the truth came to her. 
 Then she turned to Harry.
 
 OR, THE CRADLE OP LIBERTY. 287 
 
 " But this man whom Bella likes is very unsuitable for 
 her, I am told," she remarked. 
 
 " That is not the point," said Harry. " I will enter into 
 no discussion as to that. The question is this. Has 
 Frederic a right to imprison her, and bring upon her a life- 
 blight of misery, because she does not please him in all 
 she does ? " 
 
 Mrs. Forresst turned to her husband. " Tell us how it 
 is," she said. 
 
 It was not simply because she asked, nor because the 
 hour was late, nor because he was weary, that Frederic an 
 swered. It was because his falsehood had yielded to the 
 continued pressure of Harry s truth. Harry s clear eyes 
 had conquered. The almost indomitable spirit of Frederic 
 Forresst succumbed and yielded then. He arose, took his 
 wife s hand within his arm, and, turning to Harry, he 
 
 said, " You will find her at the asylum in . I could 
 
 do no better for her than to put her under the care of Dr. 
 Gracio, the most celebrated mental physician of the coun 
 try." 
 
 He bowed, and turned to go ; but Harry waved his hand 
 imperiously, and pointed to the writing materials on the 
 table. 
 
 "Give me a permit to take her out," he said. "I will 
 have no obstacles in my way when I get there." 
 
 Once more Frederic looked at Harry. It was eye to eye, 
 and face to face, for a moment. Then the battle ended. 
 The victory was won. The clear eyes of Harry looked un 
 flinchingly upon Frederic s face. Frederic s eyes drooped. 
 His mustache relaxed, his hand trembled. He soon stead 
 ied himself, and wrote the permit. As he handed it to 
 Harry, he said, "It would be better to put you in than to 
 take her out." 
 
 " If the places are so beneficial, it would be well to go in 
 yourself," was Harry s response.
 
 288 BELLA ; 
 
 Thus they parted. Harry went from the house, Frederic 
 to his room. Harry said, " Father above, I thank thee." 
 Frederic said, " Don t ask me any thing about it," and pet 
 ulantly pushed his wife from him. 
 
 Harry thought of his mother, but would not go to her at 
 that late hour. He sought her in the morning, and com 
 forted her by telling her the result, and assuring her that 
 he would find Bella, and then it would all be right. He 
 kissed the old cheeks, and said, " I shall come back and see 
 you. It may be I shall take you out there yet, when we 
 get settled." Then he went steaming across the country 
 with Frederic s permit in his pocket. He took it out, and 
 examined it as he went. 
 
 "Writing those few lines was the hardest thing Fred 
 ever did," he said musingly. " I saw the perspiration on 
 his brow. Well, what will not a man s temper lead him 
 to do ? " 
 
 He went on then. The way seemed easy now. " I will 
 get her," he thought; "and Fred will be punished enough 
 by knowing that we have conquered him." 
 
 Thus Harry thought, and tranquillized as he drew near 
 Bella. He felt like a man emerging from darkness, and 
 like a conqueror in the cause of right. He looked forward 
 to his greeting with Bella, thought of Mr. and Mrs. Beale 
 in waiting, and also of the coming journey, and of the ex 
 pectant family to whom he was going. 
 
 Witli all these thoughts in his mind, he came to the 
 establishment of Dr. Gracio. He entered the public office, 
 and inquired for Miss Forresst. They told him she was too 
 ill to be seen. They should not have said it. Harry 
 roused at the words. " Too ill ! Let me see her." Dr. 
 Gracio assumed his most professional blandness, and began 
 a description of her situation; but Harry only said, "Let 
 me see her ! " Miss Partridge cast a deprecatory glance,
 
 On, THE CRADLE OF LIBERT?. 289 
 
 and feared lest the patient could not bear a visit : " It might 
 injure her." Harry said again, "LET ME SEE HER ! " His 
 voice had the ring of decision, his manner was impetuous, 
 like the rushing of a fresh mountain torrent. To resist him 
 was like resisting Nature itself, and the law-constituted 
 guardians gave way. They led him up the stairs. He 
 entered her beautiful chamber, and paused beside her bed. 
 He looked in her eyes, and saw them glassy and vacant. 
 He laid his hand on her forehead and spoke to her, but she 
 knew him not. 
 
 Then the heart of the man went into agony. He bowed 
 his bearded face to hers, he touched her parched lips, and 
 said in a hollow voice, "Bella, my belle Bella, speak 
 to me. Don t you know me ? I am Harry, old Harry. 
 Do speak to me one little word!" 
 
 But a moan was her only answer ; and as she turned her 
 burning head, and he saw her short, shorn hair, his soul 
 went down like lead. One deep groan went through him, 
 such a groan as only a strong man gives. He turned, and 
 waved his hand. "Please go out from me: let everyone 
 go out. I want to be alone." 
 
 There was a dignity in the tone of his voice, a majesty 
 in the expression of his face ; and they who looked upon 
 him were awed. They went out, one by one, silently and 
 softly disappearing : the door was closed ; he was alone, 
 with the shorn head and the glassy eyes before him. 
 
 Then he clasped his iron arms about her, laid his broad, 
 bronzed face upon her cheek, the dew of his breath fell 
 over her like fragrance, and the warmth of his earnest 
 soul penetrated the closed, burning pores of her system ; 
 and, in the depth of his earnestness, he groaned, 
 
 "0 my sister! my sorrowful, broken sister? I had 
 none that I loved as I loved thee ! And now the curls 
 that our mother gave thee are shorn, thine eyes are glassy 
 
 25
 
 290 BELLA ; 
 
 and wild, and when I speak thou knowest it not! Ac 
 cursed be these asylum walls, and accursed be these 
 asylum laws ; for, without their aid, Frederic, with all his 
 strong will, could never have brought thee to this ! " 
 
 As he stooped and enfolded her thus, the magnetic power 
 of his breath, the old home influence, the old home love, 
 stole from his honest frame ; and his breath went into her 
 soul, thrilling over her face, and warming it with natural 
 heat. It was the breath of her own, for which she had 
 yearned. It was the breath of one who drew from the 
 same mother s life, of one whose father gave to them both 
 incipient birth ; and now as he leaned, pressing his brawny 
 face to hers, the spirit within him whispered to her soul. 
 Not a word was spoken, not x a sound was audible ; yet the 
 maiden heard, and her spirit revived, for it felt the soul of 
 its kindred calling. It was as the voice of God : yea, it 
 was the voice of God ; for God, who created flesh and 
 blood, created it male and female, to be husband and 
 wife, from whom should spring brothers and sisters, thus 
 creating the natural relations of blood, and thus forming 
 ties that are to be sundered only by him. Neither 
 physicians nor prisons nor asylums nor governments 
 have a right to sunder ties of blood, of which the marital 
 tie is the fountain. 
 
 And there the rough man sat, breathing into the maiden 
 the breath of life. Unconsciously lie did his work. Un 
 consciously to himself, but not to God. He watched them 
 both; he heard the still prayer; he saw the work that 
 it was good ; he breathed upon it the " breath of life ; " 
 and Bella became " a living soul." The Master came 
 down, and, touching her heart, said, " Maiden, arise ! " 
 The blessed Master! He saw his servant unwittingly 
 doing God s work. Yes, Harry was healing spirit by 
 spirit. He was not forcing the soul to love that which it
 
 OR, THE CRADLE OF LIBERTY. 291 
 
 could not love, to be contented within a hedge of prison- 
 bars, to tread a path of bondage, nor to abandon its sacred 
 oaths. He was calling kindred spirit back to its own. 
 
 " Bella ! " said he in tones of earnest depth, " Bella, 
 speak to me ! Oh ! ray Bella, my sister, speak to me ! " 
 
 Then she turned slowly her head, looked up in the eyes 
 that were looking in hers, and her suffering spirit seemed 
 to recognize its own life-blood. She looked up earnestly in 
 those kind eyes, and a new light darted into her own. It 
 was the blue, her native blue, the blue that was latent in 
 his. He saw it, he knew it : hope came in his heart. 
 
 " She is not quite gone," he thought. " Love can call 
 her back. Kindred love can waken her dying soul. She 
 wants her own. La belle Bella always loved her own." 
 
 Then he passed his hand across her brow, touched sadly 
 her shorn head, and, still breathing his warm breath over 
 her, groaned, and his spirit yearned in speech. "Bella, 
 come back to life ! Bella, I have found you ; and I will 
 never leave you again ! Speak to me ! Speak ! One 
 word ! Speak ! " 
 
 Slowly her spirit seemed to come. Slowly through the 
 burning tendrils of her frame, slowly through the wild 
 raving of her face and eyes, her own sweet spirit came, 
 and, forcing itself up through the tortured faculties, found 
 its way out. Her own true soul gleamed forth, and recog 
 nized its kindred. Then her lips moved, her eyes spoke, 
 her cheeks flushed naturally, she threw her arms about his 
 neck, and his soul thrilled in deep emotion. He heard the 
 words, the thrilling words, " Harry ! my Harry ! my own, 
 own Harry." 
 
 Thus was she rescued from madness and soul death. 
 Thus God restored her spirit, and gave to his servant 
 Harry the fruition of his labors. 
 
 Harry gave Dr. Gracio no explanation of the family
 
 292 BELLA ; 
 
 troubles, but he showed him the paper that Frederic had 
 written and signed; and, when Bella was able to ride, Harry 
 dressed her head with some false hair that he bought, and 
 took her away. He watched her as a mother watches an 
 infant, while they rushed to the broad Western field in an 
 easy car ; and his heart swelled with a gratitude he had 
 never known before. He had earned his happiness ; and 
 she, leaning on him, said softly, " Harry, my own, own 
 Harry ! " 
 
 Thus they went, and Mr. and Mrs. Beale sat by in grate 
 ful silence.
 
 OR, THE CRADLE OF LIBERTY. 293 
 
 CHAPTER XXIV. 
 
 ^N "Old and New," February, 1872, there is an 
 article by Oliver Dewey, from which we quote a 
 few lines. He says, " Infancy comes into the world 
 like a royal heir, and takes possession as if the 
 world were made for itself alone. Itself is all it 
 knows. It will by and by take a wider range. There is a 
 natural process of improvement in the very progress of 
 life. . . . Selfishness, which is the excess of a just self- 
 regard, is the one form of all evil in the world. The world 
 cries out upon it, and heaps upon it every epithet expres 
 sive of meanness, baseness, or guilt. And let it bear the 
 branding scorn ; but let us not fail to see, though selfish 
 ness be the satirist s mark, and the philosopher s reproach, 
 and the theologian s argument, the real nature and value 
 of the principle from which it proceeds. Self-hood, I have 
 preferred to call it ; self-love, be it, if you please. . . . 
 This magnificent /, and I emphasize it, because all mean 
 ness is thought to be concentrated in that word, this 
 mysterious and magnificent /, this that one means when 
 he says I, we may utter, but can never explain, nor fully 
 express it. . . . I think, therefore I am, said the phi 
 losopher; but the bare utterance of the word I yields a 
 vaster inference. No animal ever knows what that word 
 means. It is some time before the little child learns to say 
 I. It says, Willy or Ellen wants this or that, will go 
 here or there. 
 
 25*
 
 294 BELLA ; 
 
 "What is insanity but the wreck of this personality? 
 The victim loses himself. And the morally insane, the 
 prodigal, when he returns to reason and virtue, returns to 
 himself. 
 
 " A man s self/ says Thackeray, " must be serious to 
 him, under whatever mask or disguise or uniform he pre 
 sents it to the public." 
 
 These remarks on insanity are true. An insane person 
 has lost himself or herself. The /, the tenant and owner 
 of the earthly tabernacle, is gone, or has become an injured 
 tenant ; and, in the close interlacing of the human house 
 and its occupant, neither can be injured without hurting 
 the other. The / of a man fills every space and particle of 
 him ; is in every fibre, atom, construction, and interstice. 
 In his physical frame, his nerves, his delicate fibrous skin, 
 all over him, through him, bounding, rebounding, acting, 
 doing, quickening, and leading hither and thither, / is 
 the spirit that animates, and the spirit is the /. It 
 wills, and thinks, and moves the organic clay by which 
 it is environed ; and, in its turn, it is moved upon, 
 and acted upon, by the earthly body that it ani 
 mates. We are children of law, .and our organizations are 
 ruled by the same laws that govern Nature in all her de 
 partments. Of all constructions on the crust of this globe, 
 the human system is most complex, most artistic, delicate, 
 and wonderful ; yet to nothing are we so savage and un 
 thinkingly cruel as to these very organizations. In us 
 dwell thought and reason and immortal loves. We have 
 each a personality, an individuality that cannot be dis 
 turbed without creating pain. 
 
 What each individual needs is his or her own individual 
 self jn purity and freshness. An Irish woman weeping 
 (( behind the bars," expressed herself thus : " I want meself, 
 meself, me own, own self. Why don t they give me back 
 me own, own, self, and make me what I used to be ? "
 
 OR, THE CRADLE OP LIBERTY. 295 
 
 Ah, poor woman ! How could the hospital give her 
 back her own, own self? Have hospitals a self for each 
 individual applicant? Are they God, that they have the 
 mobile power of furnishing selves to Irish, French, Ger 
 man, Swede, English, American, young, old, learned, un 
 learned, grave, or gay? Have they all kinds of selves, with 
 their multiplicities of attributes and peculiarities of 
 natures ? Is it possible for one set of human-made, strin 
 gent rules, to restore to each person his or her God-stamp 
 ed individualities ? Insanity is a disease, but it rests on a 
 cause. Something produces it, and that something should 
 be the subject of " treatment." The causes of insanity, are 
 as various as the persons diseased; differing according to 
 age, sex, temperaments, pursuits, and other conditions. 
 No two persons are alike in these respects, and no two 
 should be treated alike for mental diseases. 
 
 When insanity is caused by physical disorders, the body 
 should be healed. This can be done outside of asylums 
 more easily than within. When insanity is caused by 
 stricken affections, domestic troubles, or pecuniary difficul 
 ties, these soul afflictions should be healed by appliances of 
 their own nature. When insanity is caused by the 
 patient s own sins, reformatory measures are needed, but 
 not the crushing, soul-trying measures of prison-asylums, 
 It is cruel to keep people in locked rooms, suffering from 
 nervous, physical, and soul derangements, while the causes 
 of these derangements are unnoticed, never receiving 
 medical or other attention. Mind, soul, spirit, intellect, < 
 all are under law ; and Nature is intimately and powerfully 
 associated with these departments of humanity, and must 
 and will have sway. In asylums Nature is denied. 
 
 If a farmer has a field of stunted, badly-growing grain, 
 does he build walls about it, and shut it in from the sun 
 and rain ? Or does he let it lie open to the mists, the
 
 296 BELLA ; 
 
 storms, and clear warm sky, looking anxiously towards these 
 things as helps to bring back the wayward field ? Does 
 he let the earth lie dormant ? or does he stir up the fallow 
 ground, so that the smiles of God may enter in ? That 
 which thou doest for thy stunted field, do also for thy wife 
 or daughter, or poor old father ! Take them out of the 
 asylums and locked-up houses, and give them the free winds 
 and suns and storms of life ! Have patience with them. 
 Shall men have patience with fallow ground, and not with 
 their own flesh and blood ? 
 
 The human system is a harp of ten thousand strings, a 
 lyre of exquisite finish, a lute of symphonies. The prick 
 of a pin will cause shivering thrills in a whole body ; a 
 word of unkindness will create unutterable agonies. We 
 are full of delicate nerves ; and a chord touched by accident 
 in one part of a human body will vibrate through the 
 whole system. And yet the possessors of this wonderful 
 mechanism grow up and live in almost total ignorance of 
 themselves constructively. They neither understand their 
 own organisms, nor what they can endure, nor for what 
 they are fitted, nor how to repair themselves if injured. 
 
 It is time for the intelligence of mankind to be directed 
 to the study of itself. Shall we have our land covered with 
 asylums, penitentiaries, prisons, and other tortures for 
 erring minds ? Let the intelligence of the country save 
 the country from these evils, by giving the people such in 
 struction as will help save them. Many aberrations are 
 the result of absolute ignorance among the people. Hun 
 dreds and thousands are now lying in asylums, ay, and in 
 penal punishment, who fell into those conditions from utter 
 ignorance of themselves. 
 
 Our common schools teach grammar, geography, arith 
 metic, and the arts of reading and spelling. There ia 
 another science that should be added immediately, the
 
 OB, THE CRADLE OF LIBERTY. 297 
 
 science of man, as he is wondrously and beautifully made ; 
 what will injure the human system, and what will preserve 
 it, should he as universally taught in our public schools as 
 are reading and writing. Little children would be delight 
 ed in the study of themselves. Their own internal con 
 structions are sources of woader to all young people, and 
 proper instruction would save thousands in life and happi 
 ness. Children value themselves, and prize the life that has 
 been given them. They would not knowingly injure them 
 selves, and they would not forget true instruction as they 
 advance to mature life. Text-books on human life should 
 be elenjental and progressive, just as in grammar and other 
 sciences. 
 
 When we think seriously of the myriads of contingencies 
 surrounding human lives, the extreme delicacy of the 
 human system, and the ignorance of themselves in which 
 people live, it is not a marvel that insanity, crime, or other 
 diseases, should appear to mar the exquisite workmanship. 
 
 We teach children spiritually. We tell them, that if 
 they sin they will be punished, and will never go to heaven. 
 But this is not all we should teach them. We should 
 teach them the penalties of errors and wrong, just as we 
 would tea"ch them any natural science ; thus enlightening 
 their understandings as well as touching their emotions. 
 Vague fears, or anticipations of something in the dim 
 future, have not sufficient power to hold people against the 
 seductions of passions. Passions clamor for instant gratifi 
 cation, and the victims risk the vague, spiritual future. 
 Children should learn that crimes, diseases, and insanity 
 are the natural results of broken natural laws; and \ve 
 can never have a healthy vigorous country till people 
 understand themselves as creations of laws fixed by Nature 
 with physical penalties for violations. 
 
 A recent writer has attempted to prove that insanity ig
 
 298 BELLA ; 
 
 a crime. If insanity is a crime, then all diseases are 
 crimes ; for insanity is a disease. It is caused, mayhap, 
 by people s own mistakes and perversities ; but we may 
 say the same of all diseases. 
 
 Nearly akin to insanity, almost its counterpart, is ner 
 vousness ; and innumerable women who have no disease 
 but nervousness are shut into our asylums by physicians. 
 In these weak states, they are expected to endure the trials 
 and aggravations of imprisonment. No one has patience 
 with nervous people. They bear their sufferings without 
 sympathy. Yet pain of the nerves is the keenest, the 
 most distressing, of all pain, except soul pain. Why do 
 not physicians know, that to treat either soul or nervous 
 pain with impatience or harshness is to be impatient and 
 harsh with the very Divinity itself? The soul is God in 
 man. The nerves are God s electric telegraphs. Tliese 
 rest on the physical organizations for earthly supports. 
 To touch them is to touch the Great Unseen. 
 
 We talk of cohesion, gravitation, heat, motion, elec 
 tricity, and numberless hidden adjuncts ; but behind all 
 these there lies a power that defies oiir capabilities to 
 understand. This is the power that we call God. The 
 mighty forces are his nerves. The material part of the great 
 cosmos is his garment. We, being made in his image, 
 have a soul which is his essence; nerves that are to us as 
 forces ; and the material body, which is our garment. 
 When we touch the human nerves with pain, we touch 
 that which touches the soul, which touches God. The 
 nerves are ethereal, delicate, higher than the body, and 
 made by God as messengers between the priceless soul and 
 its garment. When physicians, or others, treat the nerves 
 lightly, the sin is scarcely less than mistreating the soul. 
 Nerves are our electric soul telegraphs. They are deftly 
 intertwined within us, responding to every thought, dbrat-
 
 OR, THE CRADLE OF LIBERTY. 299 
 
 ing to every thrill. If they become diseased, the con sequences 
 to our bodies and souls are on the same plan that the con 
 sequences would be to creation, if the mighty forces that 
 lie between God and the material universe were destroyed. 
 If these great forces were disturbed, the power of the great 
 eternal Spirit over the material universe would be gone, 
 and destruction of present existences must ensue. So in 
 the human system, the most intense agonies, and certain 
 destruction, follow injured nerves. They are the visible 
 wires on which the powers of thought run, as electricity 
 runs on wires of iron. Break a wire, and electricity no 
 longer uses it. Sunder a nerve, and soul no longer uses 
 it ; but the body quivers in pain. With these delicate 
 organisms we live in ignorance. 
 
 It may be said that all people cannot become physicians. 
 We do not want they should. We would have fewer doc 
 tors, not more. But all people can learn the primary rules 
 of life, its foundations, laws, methods of preserving nature 
 in its purity; how to avoid that which injures, and why it 
 injures ; how body and soul are combined ; and how 
 to judge of themselves and their families, and thus 
 save themselves from quackery, inebriated doctors, and 
 doctors who can never practise properly, because Nature 
 never gave them suitable judgment. 
 
 J. G. Holland says, " My physician shall walk hand in 
 hand with my pastor, in my esteem, confidence, and affec 
 tion. He shall be welcome to my table, my hearthstone, 
 and my heart ; but I utter no more than a self-evident 
 truth, when I say, that, because a man passes an examina 
 tion before a corps of medical professors, he is not, neces 
 sarily, qualified for a physician ; and that there are 
 members of the profession who sit in their offices, with 
 their diplomas signed and sealed, ay, and framed and 
 glazed before them, impatiently waiting for patients, who
 
 300 BELLA ; 
 
 vulgarly look upon their profession as a trade, and in 
 whose care it would not be safe to risk a sick horse worth 
 twenty-five dollars." 
 
 This is the testimony of J. G-. Holland, given to a pub 
 lic that will readily indorse the sentiment ; and yet that 
 public allows these physicians, by law, to sign certificates 
 that banish the finest people to cells of prison-like chill, 
 and to hopeless misery. The great public lays its head on 
 the block before these physicians ; and they do with us as 
 they will. Our people, intelligent as they are, are power 
 less" before physicians, because of ignorance. When we 
 are ill, we all lie down together, the old and the young, 
 the learned and the unlearned, all classes ; and doctors 
 gather over us. They write their prescriptions in unknown 
 tongues ; and we are satisfied. They talk in big-sounding 
 words ; and we are dumb before their faces. They con 
 coct strange compounds; and we swallow them. They 
 send us to prison ; and we go. We know nothing of our 
 selves, and dare not dispute their words. 
 
 At present, if young people learn how to take care of 
 themselves, to guard their health, or keep themselves from 
 the encroachments of inward passions, it is by chance. A 
 maxim here, or an ignorant direction there ; a chance word 
 from some relative, or a religious precept of eternal judg 
 ments, are all the sources from which the masses of chil 
 dren learn of themselves. Never a lesson on the natural 
 and scientific retributions which the God of nature and 
 revelation has implanted in humanity is taught our chil 
 dren ; and yet there is not one violation of natural laws 
 but has its penalty. Crime, in all its forms, has its own 
 penalties affixed in the secret alchemies of creation. 
 These penalties cannot be evaded. Violations of physrcal 
 laws are followed by physical ills. Violations of moral 
 law have penalties of moral bearing. These penalties are
 
 OR, THE CRADLE OF LIBERTY. 301 
 
 as sure, and may be as absolutely depended upon, as the 
 fact that cold follows the absence of the sun, or heat 
 accompanies its presence. These human laws and penal 
 ties should be reduced to science ; and, beginning elemen 
 tarily, should be taught in every school of our intelligent 
 land. 
 
 With our church-spires everywhere pointing heaven 
 ward, our ministers preaching the words of life, our Bibles 
 lying on home-stands, our public schools where our children 
 seek the streams of knowledge free, our colleges, libraries, 
 printing-presses, and orators, there is no need that we be 
 overrun by asylums, penitentiaries, catastrophes caused by 
 sin, or any ignorance. We have the means to spread 
 among the people such knowledge as will preserve them 
 from evil, re-create them, and bring to the next genera 
 tions pristine strength and purity.
 
 302 BELLA : 
 
 CHAPTER XXV. 
 
 " GOD pity the wretched prisoners, in their lonely cells to-day ! 
 Whatc er the sins that tripped them, God pity them ! I say. 
 Only a strip of sunshine, cleft by rusty bars ; 
 Only a patch of azure, only a cluster of stars ; 
 Only a barren future to starve their hopes upon ; 
 Only the stinging memories of a past that s better gone; 
 Only scorn from women, only hate from men ; 
 Only remorse to whisper of a life that might have been. 
 Once they were little children ; perhaps their little feet 
 Were led by a gentle mother toward the golden street. 
 If, therefore, in life s forest, they since have lost their way, 
 For the sake of her who loved them, God pity them ! I say. 
 
 And you who judge so harshly, 
 
 Are you sure the stumbling-stone 
 That tripped the feet of others 
 
 Might not have tripped your own ? 
 Are you sure the sad-faced angel 
 
 Who writes your errors down 
 Will give to you more honor 
 
 Than to him on whom you frown ? 
 
 Or if a steadier purpose unto your life is given, 
 
 A stronger will to conquer, a smoother path to heaven ; 
 
 If, when temptations meet you, you crush them with a smile ; 
 
 If you can chain pale passions, and keep your lips from guile, - 
 
 Then bless the hand that crowned you, remembering as you go, 
 
 Twas not your own endeavor that shaped your nature so; 
 
 And sneer not at the weakness which made a brother fall, 
 
 For hands that lift the fallen God loves the best of all.
 
 OK, THE CEADLE OF LIBERTY. 303 
 
 Oh ! pray for the wretched prisoners, 
 
 All over the land to-day, 
 That a holy hand in pity 
 
 May wipe their guilt away." 
 
 The Rev. E. H. Cbapin says, " In nine cases out of ten, 
 crime is no proof of special depravity, apart from general 
 depravity ; and that the circumstances have just so much 
 weight as this, that, put you or me in just those same cir 
 cumstances, in nine cases out of ten we should be criminals 
 too. In the same circumstances involves a great deal. It 
 involves an hereditary taint stamped in the very mould of 
 birth ; it involves physical misery ; it involves the worst 
 kind of social influence ; it involves the pressure of all the 
 natural appetites, rioting in the need of the body and this 
 darkness of the soul. And it implies no suspicion of a 
 man s moral standard, it is no insult to his self-respect, to 
 tell him, that, under similar conditions, it is extremely prob 
 able he would have been a criminal too. Reasoning in an 
 arm-chair is very proper, and often very accurate ; but the 
 logic of starvation is too peremptory for syllogisms. We 
 have grown up in pure light and air, appeased with the 
 comforts, and braced by at least the current morality, of so 
 ciety. But concerning these degraded ones, what some 
 call charity is no more than justice. It is no more than 
 justice to say, all the conditions being considered, that, 
 as to the vast majority of them, crime is no proof of special 
 depravity. It is the genuine humanity that is there, no 
 base metal. It came from the common mint : somewhere 
 you will find upon it a faint scar of the divine im^ge ; but 
 the coin was pitched into this bonfire of appetite and blas 
 phemy, and it has come out a cinder. God made them 
 complete souls, and stamped his image upon them ; but 
 they have fallen into the dark and dreary ways j the tierce
 
 304 BELLA ; 
 
 flames have hardened them ; the foul air has tainted them ; 
 and their special depravity, over and above the common 
 depravity, is the infection of circumstances." 
 
 Thus says one of our influential clergymen. But what 
 avails it for our learned men to see these truths, if no prac 
 tical results are to follow ? If criminals are still to feel the 
 execrations of mankind binding their fetters of bondage, 
 this insight into the causes of their crimes is useless. 
 
 Relevant to this subject, and as though the Lord had 
 sent them for use on these pages, two little books appear 
 at hand. The books were published A.D. 1845. They were 
 written by L. Maria Child, and entitled, " Letters from 
 New York." She says, " I was once visiting a friend in 
 prison for debt ; and, through the grated windows, I could 
 see the outside of the criminals apartments. On the stone 
 ledges beneath their windows alighted three or four doves ; 
 and hard hands were thrust out between the iron bars to 
 sprinkle crumbs for them. The sight brought tears to my 
 eyes. Hearts that still loved to feed doves must certainly 
 contain somewhat that might be reached by the voice of 
 kindness. I had not then reasoned on the subject ; but I 
 felt, even then, that prisons were not such spiritual hos 
 pitals as ought to be provided for erring brothers. . . . 
 
 " The wisest political economy lies folded up in the max 
 ims of Christ. . . . 
 
 "The cure for all the ills and wrongs, the cares, the 
 sorrows, and the crimes, of humanity, all lie in that one 
 word, LOVE. It is the divine vitality that everywhere pro 
 duces and restores life. To each and every one of us, it 
 gives the power of working miracles if we will. . . . 
 Even the poor, despised donkey is changed by love s 
 magic influence. When coerced and beaten, he is vicious, 
 obstinate, and stupid. With the peasantry of Spain, he is 
 a petted favorite, almost an inmate of the household. The
 
 OR, THE CRADLE OF LIBERTY. 305 
 
 children bid him welcome home, and the wife feeds him 
 from her hands. He knows them all, and he loves them 
 all ; for he feels in his inmost heart that they love him. . . . 
 The beet tamer of colts that was ever known in Massar 
 chusetts never allowed whip or spur to be used ; and the 
 horses he trained never needed the whip. Their spirits 
 were unbroken by severity, and they obeyed the slightest 
 impulse of the voice or rein with the most animated 
 promptitude ; but rendered obedient to affection, their vi-. 
 vacity was always restrained with graceful docility. He 
 said it was with horses as with children : if accustomed to 
 beating, they would not obey without it; but if managed 
 with untiring gentleness, united with consistent and very 
 equable firmness, the victory once gained over them was 
 gained forever. 
 
 " In the face of all these facts, the world goes on manu 
 facturing whips, spurs, the gallows, and chains ; while each 
 one carries within his own soul a divine substitute for these 
 Devil s inventions, with which he might work miracles, in 
 ward and outward, if he would. Unto this end let us work, 
 with unfaltering faith. Great is the strength of an indi 
 vidual soul, true to its high trust, mighty is it, even to 
 the redemption of a world." 
 
 Having visited Blackwell s Island, Mrs. Child says, " As 
 I looked up at the massive walls of a prison, it did my 
 heart good to see doves nestling within the shelter of the 
 deep, narrow, grated windows. I thought what blessed 
 little messengers of heaven they would appear to me, if 
 I were in prison ; but instantly a shadow passed over the 
 sunshine of my thought. Alas ! doves do not speak to 
 their souls as they do to mine ; for they have lost their love 
 for gentle and childlike things. How have they lost it ? 
 Society, with its unequal distribution, its perverted edu 
 cation, its manifold injustice, its cold neglect, its biting 
 
 26*
 
 306 BELLA ; 
 
 mockery, has taken from them the gifts of God. They are 
 placed here in the midst of green hills, and flowing streams, 
 and cooing doves, after the heart is petrified against the 
 genial influence of such sights and sounds. 
 
 " As usual, my organ of justice was roused into great 
 activity hy the sight of prisoners. Would you have them 
 prey on society? said one of my companions. I answered, 
 I am troubled that society has preyed upon tliein. I will 
 enter no argument ahout the right of society to punish 
 these sinners ; but I say she made them sinners. How 
 much I have done towards it, by yielding to popular preju 
 dice, obeying false customs, and suppressing vital truths, 
 I know not ; but doubtless I have done, and am doing, my 
 share. God forgive me ! If he dealt with us as we deal 
 with our brother, who could stand before him ? . . . 
 
 " The secrets of prisons, so far as they are revealed, all 
 tend to show that the prevailing feeling of criminals, of all 
 grades, is that they are wronged. What we call justice, 
 they regard as an unlucky chance ; and whosoever looks 
 calmly and wisely into the foundations on which society 
 rolls and tumbles (I cannot say on which it rests, for its 
 foundations heave like the sea) will perceive that they are 
 victims of chance. . . . That criminals so universal!} feel 
 themselves victims of injustice is one strong proof that it is 
 true ; for impressions entirely without foundation are not 
 apt to become universal. If society does make its own 
 criminals, how shall she cease to do it ? It can be done 
 only by a change in the structure of society, that will dimin 
 ish the temptations to vice, and increase the encourage 
 ments to virtue. ... In the mean time, do penitentiaries 
 and prisons increase or diminish the evils they are intended 
 to remedy ? 
 
 " The superintendent at Blackwell told me, unasked, that 
 ten year?- experience had convinced him that the whole sys-
 
 OR, THE CRADLE OF LIBERTY. 307 
 
 tern tended to increase crime. He said of the lads who 
 came there, a large proportion had been in the house of 
 refuge ; and a large proportion of those who left afterwards 
 went to Sing Sing. It is as regular a succession as the 
 classes in a college, said he ; from the house of refuge to 
 the penitentiary, and from the penitentiary to the State 
 prison. I remarked that coercion tended to rouse all the 
 bad passions in man s nature, and, if long continued, hard 
 ened the whole character. I know that, said he, from 
 my own experience. All the devil there is in me rises up 
 when a man attempts to compel me. But what can I do ? 
 I am obliged to be very strict. When my feelings tempt 
 rue to unusual indulgence, a bad use is almost always made 
 of it. I see that the system fails to produce the effect in 
 tended ; but I cannot change the result. 
 
 " I felt that his words were true. He could not change 
 the influence of the system while he discharged the duties of 
 his office ; for the same reason that a man cannot be at once 
 a slavedriver and missionary on a plantation. I allude to 
 the necessities of the office, and do not mean to imply that 
 the character of the individual was severe. . . . The world 
 would be in a happier condition if legislators spent half as 
 much time and labor to prevent crime, as they do to punish 
 it. The poor need houses of encouragement, and society 
 gives them houses of correction. Benevolent institutions 
 and reformatory societies perform but a limited and tempo 
 rary use. They do not reach the ground-work of evil ; and 
 it is reproduced too rapidly for them to keep even the sur 
 face healed. The natural, spontaneous influence of society 
 should be such as to supply men with healthy motives, and 
 give full, free play to the affections and the faculties. . . . 
 I by no means underrate modern improvements in the dis 
 cipline of prisons, or progressive meliorations in the crimi 
 nal code; I rejoice in these things as facts, and still more
 
 308 BELLA ; 
 
 as prophecy. Strong as my faith is that the time will come 
 when war and prisons will both cease from the face of the 
 earth, I am by no means blind to the great difficulties in 
 the way of those who are honestly striving to make the best 
 of tilings as they are. Violations of right, continued gener 
 ation after generation, and interwoven into the whole 
 structure of action and opinion, will continue troublesome 
 and injurious, even for a long time after they are outwardly 
 removed. Legislators and philanthropists may well be puz 
 zled to know what to do with those who have become hard 
 ened in crime. Meanwhile, the highest wisdom should 
 busy itself with the more important questions, How did 
 these men become criminals ? Are not social influences 
 largely at fault ? If society is the criminal, were it not well 
 to reform society ? 
 
 " It is common to treat the inmates of penitentiaries and 
 prisons as if they were altogether unlike ourselves, as if 
 they belong to another race ; but this indicates superficial 
 thought and feeling. The passions which carried those 
 men to prison exist in your own bosom, and have been 
 gratified, only in a less degree ; perchance, if you look in 
 ward with enlightened self-knowledge, you will perceive 
 that there have been periods in your own life, when a hair s 
 breadth farther in the wrong would have rendered you 
 amenable to human laws ; and that you were prevented 
 from moving over that hair s-breadth boundary by outward 
 circumstances, for which you deserve no credit. 
 
 ... "I have not been happy since that visit to Black- 
 well s Island. There is something painful, yea, terrific, in 
 feeling myself involved in the great wheel of society, -which 
 goes whirling on, crushing thousands at every turn. This 
 relation of the individual to the mass is the sternest and 
 most frightful of all the conflicts between necessity and 
 free-will. Yet here, too, conflict should be harmony, and 
 will be so.
 
 OR, THE CRADLE OP LIBERTY. 309 
 
 " Believe me, the great panacea for all the disorders ia. 
 the universe is love. For thousands of years, the world 
 has gone on perversely, trying to overcome evil with evil, 
 with the worst results, as the condition of things plainly 
 testifies. Nearly two thousand years ago, the prophet of 
 the Highest proclaimed that evil could be overcome only 
 with good. But when the Son of man cometh, shall he find 
 faith on the earth ? If we have faith in this holy princi 
 ple, where shall we find it, on our laws or our customs ? 
 
 " Write it on thine own life, and men reading it shall 
 say, Lo, something greater than vengeance is here, a power 
 mightier than coercion ! And then individual faith shall 
 become a social faith ; and to the mountains of crime around 
 us, it will say, Be thou removed, and be thou cast into the 
 depths of the sea ! And they will be removed, and the places 
 that knew them shall know them no more. 
 
 ..." A society has lately been organized here for the 
 reform of prisons and their inmates. Their first object is 
 to introduce into our prisons such a mode of discipline as is 
 best calculated to reform criminals, by stimulating and en 
 couraging what remains of good within them, while they 
 are at the same time kept under strict regulations, and 
 guided by a firm hand. Their next object is to render to 
 discharged convicts such assistance as will be most likely to 
 guide them into paths of sober and successful industry. 
 
 "John W. Edmonds, President of the Board of Inspec 
 tors at Sing-Sing Prison, pleaded for the benevolent objects 
 of the institution with real earnestness of heart ; and brought 
 forward abundant statistics, carefully prepared, to show the 
 need of such an association, and to prove that crime always 
 diminishes in proportion to the amelioration of the laws. 
 He urged the alarming fact, that from two hundred to two 
 hundred and fifty convicts a year from Sing Sing were 
 returned upon society, nearly without money, without
 
 310 BELLA ; 
 
 friends (except among the vicious), without character, and 
 nearly without employment. . . . Poor, unfriended, dis 
 couraged, and despised, in a state of hostility with the world, 
 which often has, in reality, done them more grievous wrong 
 than they have done the world, how terribly powerful must 
 be the temptation to new crimes ! . . . He said he had no 
 faith whatever in the system of violence which had so long 
 prevailed in the world, the system of tormenting criminals 
 into what was called good order, and of never appealing to 
 any thing better than the sentiment of fear. ... Of late 
 there has been a gradual amelioration of discipline at Sing 
 Sing. Three thousand lashes, with a cat-of-nine tails, used 
 to be inflicted in the course of a month ; now there is not as 
 many hundred ; and the conviction is constantly growing 
 stronger, that it will be wisest, as a mere matter of policy, to 
 dispense with corporeal punishment altogether." 
 
 Let us pause ! 
 
 That statement takes away one s breath. How can the 
 pen write it, or the soul think of it ? Yet we must. We 
 must think; and not only think, but write and talk; and 
 not only that, but we must act. We must " act in the liv 
 ing present, truth within, and God o erhead." 
 
 Three thousand lashes with a cat-of-nine tails in a 
 month ! Three thousand ! 
 
 This on the soil of the United States ! And the men 
 who inflicted the lashes were not called lunatics ! And the 
 government that countenanced such things is not called 
 insane, but is supposed to be a rational government ! Nay, 
 more, it is held up before the whole world as the star of the 
 earth ! And the nation is full of professing Christians ! 
 All over it are people singing " that sweet story of old, when 
 Jesus was here among men." 
 
 Was this Jesus method for healing sin ? Does he tell 
 us to cure sin-sick souls in this way ? Does he advise us to
 
 . OR, THE CRADLE OF LIBERTY. 311 
 
 turn upon these unhappy people, and thrash them, and 
 scourge them, and lock them up under the caprices of hired 
 keepers ? It is not done by his instructions. 
 
 How then ? Does common sense, or experience, teach 
 us that harsh punishments, vindictive retributions, and un- 
 forgiveness, whether by individuals or government, are 
 promoters of civilization, good-will, and peace ? It seems 
 rather that love, just such broad, true, forgiving love as was 
 in our Saviour, is a better civilizer than whips, gallows, 
 penitentiaries, guillotines, and dungeons. Love, under the 
 guidance of intelligence, is the great civilizer of mankind. 
 It spreads over the lands, and touches hearts with new emo 
 tions. It reaches frontiers, and the barbarians subside 
 before its power ; it speaks to the masses, and wickedness 
 flees from its presence ; it whispers, and ignorance perishes. 
 Intelligent love is the world s reformer. Prisons are the 
 insignia of barbarism. 
 
 Since our public men are fond of going to Europe to 
 study the best systems of asylum and prison management, 
 let us introduce here an incident in one of their institutions. 
 The revelations made by one of the women after her release 
 from a Continental prison led to an official investigation. 
 She showed the investigating officials the indelible marks 
 of innumerable floggings which she had received from Louis 
 Bassewitz, and his mistress, Louisa Rasch, the matron of 
 the female department. Not only have men been flogged 
 there, and subjected to all sorts of tortures, worthy of the 
 fiendish ingenuity of an Apache chief, but delicate women 
 have been whipped upon the most futile pretexts. Such 
 was the terror which the threats of Bassewitz and Mine. 
 Easch struck into the hearts of the poor victims, that few or 
 none of them ventured to prefer complaints against their in 
 human tormentors. Painful as were the floggings by. Bass 
 ewitz, the suffering caused thereby was slight in comparison
 
 312 BELLA ; 
 
 with the exquisite torture of the rod with which Mme. 
 Kasch frequently belabored the bare limbs of the prisoners 
 upon the most insignificant violations of the rigid prison 
 discipline. The rod itself was nearly four pounds hi weight, 
 and consisted of innumerable small birch twigs, held together 
 by an iron band. Mme. Rasch, a powerful woman, had 
 often given her female victims fifty strokes with this terri 
 ble rod; and when the indescribable pain, as the rod de 
 scended on their bare hips, irresistibly wrested agonizing 
 screams from them, the severity of the punishment was 
 increased by the harridan, who seemed to be infuriated by 
 the cries of the helpless sufferers. One of the witnesses 
 before the officials testified as follows : " Had I not been 
 upheld by the sense of my innocence, and the stern desire 
 to avenge my wrongs by bringing to justice that man and 
 matron, I would have dashed my brains out after being four 
 or five hours within the walls of the prison. I was sent 
 there for one year on a charge of larceny, which has since 
 been proved to be entirely without foundation. After my 
 arrival, I was immediately turned over to Mme. Rasch. who 
 pushed me into a small, dark room, in the middle of which 
 stood a curiously-shaped wooden arm-chair. She rudely 
 pressed me into it, and, with leather straps, fastened ray 
 arms and legs to it. I was so frightened that my heart 
 beat audibly. She then pulled my hair down, and did it so 
 carelessly that she hurt me. I uttered a faint cry, where 
 upon she struck me in the face. I may have struggled a 
 bit to free my hands : this seemed to enrage the matron 
 greatly. She almost hissed out, Wait, you hussy, you 
 shall catch it for this. She then quietly cut off my hair 
 till my head was almost bald. I could not help crying. 
 She then ordered me to strip off my clothes ; and, when I 
 had done so, she suddenly pushed me towards a door covered 
 with a linen curtain. It was the bath-room ; and I fell hard
 
 OR, THE CRADLE OF LIBERTY. 313 
 
 into the cold water, hurting myself severely against the 
 wooden steps. The matron then pulled me out of the bath, 
 and rubbed me off with a coarse hempen towel. Without 
 saying a word, she pushed me to the wall, and fastened my 
 hands and my feet in two iron rings in the wall and floor. 
 I was petrified with terror, not knowing what was in store 
 for me. I was shivering with cold, my skin having been 
 but partially dried. Mine. Raseh went into an adjoining 
 room, and returned with that rod. Before I recovered myself 
 from the fear with which that terrible instrument filled me, 
 the matron began beating me with it on the back and on 
 the hips. Oh ! I never experienced such dreadful pain in my 
 life ; and I broke into loud cries of despair, but she did not 
 desist. My agony seemed to lend additional strength to 
 her arms ; and I fainted away, unable to bear the torture. 
 How long she beat me after I fell into a swoon, I cannot 
 tell. When I awoke, I was dripping wet. The matron 
 had thrown a pail of cold water over me. I was almost 
 delirious when she began to rub my smarting skin anew 
 with the coarse towel, and I cried again ; but the fierce 
 threat of further birching silenced my voice. The matron 
 said, that, having shown so obstreperous a spirit, she would 
 lock me up for twenty-four hours in the dark cell. After I 
 had put on the prison garb, she hustled me into an abso 
 lutely dark hole, where I sank down in utter exhaustion on 
 wet and mouldy straw. Next morning Mme. Rasch 
 brought me a tin-cup of water and a slice of stale brown- 
 bread. I was so sick that I was unable to eat. I could 
 hardly stir. In the evening I was taken to my regular 
 cell, and fell into a fever. I tried to tell the doctor how I 
 had been treated. He ordered me to shut my mouth, and 
 said, that, in case I should manifest still further a refractory 
 spirit, I would be disciplined again. 
 
 "Altogether I was seven months in the prison, and dur- 
 27
 
 314 BELLA ; 
 
 ing that time received the rod eighteen times. I was a 
 prey to such despair, that I often begged the matron on my 
 bended knees not to torture me any more, as I was not 
 strong enough to bear so much punishment ; but she 
 birched me only the more frequently. One day, in my 
 misery, I began to cry and sob, when Bassewitz whipped 
 me cruelly with a rattan. I told the doctor this, and he 
 remonstrated with the warden ; whereupon Bassewitz re 
 peated the infliction. Many other women in the prison 
 were treated with equal barbarity. Every morning, I heard, 
 with a shudder, the screams of the girls as they were 
 birched." 
 
 This was on a continent where bastiles and dungeons 
 have long had sway ; but we are not far behind in prison 
 discipline. Who supposes that " three thousand lashes 
 with a cat-of-nine tails " could be inflicted without swooning 
 and agonizing misery on the part of the victims, such as is 
 fearful even to the thoughts ? Whatever the crimes for 
 which they were imprisoned, these crimes against them in 
 their helplessness are greater. Their crimes were com 
 mitted under temptations, and passion s besetting allure 
 ments ; but these crimes against them are done in cool 
 blood, in hidden situations, where they are powerless to 
 shield themselves from the tempers of their assailants, who 
 often become infuriated like Mme. E-asch, and, like people 
 drunk with personal power, go on in these hidden cruelties. 
 
 That American people are not far behind the Europeans, 
 we should soon learn it we lifted the curtain of silence from 
 these up-ground, living tombs. Under date of June 24, 
 1873, a writer in one of our dailies says, " Editor of the 
 
 . Will you allow me to say through the columns of 
 
 your widely-circulated paper, that the most cruel murders 
 ever committed in America have been committed in our 
 jails and prisons; viz., Death in the shower-bath; death
 
 OE, THE CRADLE OF LIBERTY. 315 
 
 at the wliipp ing-post ; frosted feet while in the punish 
 ment cell, amputation, and a lingering death following. 
 Some of the punishments inflicted on prisoners are of the 
 most degrading character. I have had large experience as 
 a prison officer. At no time, and under no circumstances, 
 have I known the law of kindness to fail, when properly 
 administered to prisoners. I never fail. God s loving kind 
 ness is ever faithful, ever sure. I have known prison 
 officers to be killed by prisoners. In justice to the great and 
 holy law of kindness, I can say that I have never known a 
 prison officer to be killed by a sane prisoner where said 
 officer had not inflicted on said prisoner wicked, cruel, and 
 unnecessary punishment. I have had some fifteen years 
 experience as a prison officer, having at one time six hun 
 dred and fifty convicted felons under my charge, and have 
 never carried a pistol or weapon of any kind for one single 
 hour when in charge of prisoners, and have never had cause 
 to use one. No prisoner has ever resisted me, or attempted 
 to, witli force. No class of persons in our nation require the 
 attention of the Christian community more than our pris 
 oners do." 
 
 In this brief letter, there is much food for thought. He 
 says, " the law of kindness, when properly administered." 
 We who have lived in asylums can understand that phrase ; 
 for kindness in these places, from attendants and keepers, 
 rests on a basis entirely unlike kindness in the outer world, 
 and is usually so administered as to give the patient-prison 
 ers a sense of degradation that never leaves him, and never 
 will. 
 
 The above letter on prison discipline was not written in 
 Europe, nor thirty years ago in Sing Sing ; but is a thing 
 of to-day, progressing at this moment on American soil. 
 And the wail of the prisoners goes up as a discord in the 
 ears of the Lord of Sabaoth, who has blessed our people 
 beyond other nations.
 
 316 BELLA ; 
 
 Before any radical changes can be rna de in the inner 
 lives of prisoners, either penal or medical, there must be 
 radical changes in the ^dispositions of those who- supervise 
 and rule these inner departments. The cupidity of the 
 officers, and the tempers of the attendants and keepers, are 
 the great obstacles to ameliorations. Of this reformers and 
 philanthropists take little heed. They meet and "string 
 out" the most beautiful resolutions; but who is to execute 
 the resolutions ? Angels should come down and do it ; for 
 men s tempers will not be suitable. 
 
 What shall we do, then ? Shall we let crime go unpun 
 ished, and lawlessness be free? We answer, that God in 
 nature has established penalties for crime. It is our duty 
 to instruct the people, and the children everywhere, in the 
 natures of the penalties, and to train the intelligent world 
 to prevent crime and lawlessness. 
 
 Prison discipline, model it as we may, can never be a 
 missionary of the cross to thinking people. It holds a 
 scourge in one hand, and the gospel in the other. It 
 coerces and forces people to goodness ; but such goodness is 
 never the real goodness, nor. is this Christ s method for 
 reformations. Something better, deeper, broader, more 
 suited to the needs of souls diseased, must supersede this 
 mode of punishment, or crime will ride more rampant, and 
 evil prove more destructive. We should see that crime is 
 disease, to be healed by science and care. 
 
 By present customs, insanity and crime are treated on 
 similar principles. And, indeed, they are naturally related. 
 Both are the result of perturbed mental faculties ; and, 
 though insanity is not necessarily criminal, all crime is, in 
 some degree, insanity. The causes of these perturbations 
 lie deep in the natures of people. 
 
 The crimes within prisons, there committed against pris 
 oners, are not known to the world ; for prison overseers do
 
 OR, THE CRADLE OF LIBERTY. 317 
 
 not report themselves, and the sufferers are withheld from 
 reporting by various reasons. If now and then a case of 
 tyranny finds its way out, people read of it, and pass it by 
 as a thing of no moment ; or a meeting for prison reform 
 follows, speeches are made, and a few resolutions adopted. 
 These are printed, and there is the end. The hateful tem 
 pers within the walls are not uprooted. The system is not 
 cleansed. A few poisonous qualities may be disturbed, but 
 only to settle back into new combinations ; and still the 
 prisons flourish, the innocent and guilty suffering together, 
 and often suffering equally, by our practices. 
 
 There came one day, when the sun was shining gladly, 
 and the earth was gloriously enrobed, a tall, strong officer 
 of the law to the door of one of our Christian asylums. 
 He bore in his arms a delicate, innocent girl. She was 
 bound in iron shackles, and handcuffs were on her wrists. 
 He sat her down in the public hall of the asylum. People 
 gathered around her staring. The frightened girl looked 
 at her wrists bound tightly together ; and her fingers con 
 vulsed in agony, while tears rolled from her face in streams. 
 " What is this ? " she cried. " What is this you have 
 done to me ? Why have you disgraced me so ? God, 
 my Father ! what is this has come to me ? " And the peo 
 ple stood by indifferently, caring nothing for her agony ; for 
 was not it an insane asylum, and was not she a patient ? 
 It was only a variation in the scale of commitments ; one of 
 those variations in which force was employed instead of 
 deception. The greatest felon in the country would not 
 have been carried to prison in a more ignominious manner 
 than was this innocent Massachusetts girl. 
 
 There went up the asylum inner stairs one day a pale 
 
 young man. His hands were tied, and a handkerchief was 
 
 bound about his face. On his way up, hidden there from 
 
 outward eyes, he was kicked, cursed, thumped, and pulled, 
 
 27*
 
 318 BELLA ; 
 
 till it would seem that the poor young man must be stunned 
 and dazed beyond recovery, ere he could reach the hall where 
 he was to be still further abused. A looker-on remarked, 
 " He must be a fearful criminal." Lo ! a few days after 
 there came a bowed old man, and asked to see his son. " He 
 was a good lad," said the grief-stricken father ; " and I 
 couldna bear to have him brought away from me ; but the 
 doctor said twas best. Ye ll be good to him, will na ye ? " 
 
 So then it came out that he who was kicked up the stairs, 
 and forced into prison by merciless hands, was no felon, but 
 " a good lad," and sent from a kind home by medical advice, 
 to be " treated " for mental disease ! A convict could not 
 have fared worse ! We who have seen these things with 
 our own eyes feel justified in saying, that, in our country, 
 the innocent and guilty are treated alike in our prisons. 
 Insanity and crime are placed on one stand. Prisons for 
 both are uprising on every hand, reared for coming genera 
 tions. Between prisons for criminals, and asylums for the 
 insane, few families are safe from supplying victims for 
 imprisonment. 
 
 " But," says the world, " these imprisonments are neces 
 sary. The guilty must be shut up ; and the insane are not 
 safe abroad." 
 
 On this reasoning people rest, while acts of fearful injus 
 tice are continually transpiring amongst us. 
 
 Not only are insane people treated like criminals during 
 imprisonment, but also on the way thither, and in the 
 methods of first taking them. The police and law officers 
 handle them as roughly as if they were convicted felons. 
 A man, a good husband and father, was taken from his 
 bed by police force, and transported to an asylum, for cure. 
 He was a man of spotless integrity, and irreproachable life, 
 fallen ill because of his deep love for his fainjly, and over- 
 exertiou in business for their sakes. Such a cause for ill-
 
 OR, THE CRADLE OF LIBERTY. 319 
 
 ness should have entitled him to the utmost tenderness ; 
 and, whether his illness disturbed his bodily or mental fac 
 ulties, his physicians should have censidered the cause, and 
 his worth as a man of truth and honor, and should have 
 treated him with the utmost care medically, and with the 
 highest respect as a man. Instead of that, they ordered 
 him to an asylum. He went, as a criminal goes. The two 
 policemen treated him as coarsely, and with as little civility, 
 as they would have treated a thief or drunkard. When 
 they wanted to pause for an hour, they locked him up. At 
 night they threw him into a small out-house, where there 
 was only a board ; and on that board, bare of comforts or 
 necessaries, they left him, under lock and key ; and he had 
 not even a pillow for his tired head. What right has a 
 physician to consign an honorable man to such a fate ? 
 And who shall say that the insane and criminals are not 
 treated alike ? 
 
 It is said that the present condition of the insane is 
 better than the former, when they were shut up in attics 
 and cages, and kept in miserable conditions. It is also said 
 that criminals are treated with more humanity than for 
 merly. If we have made advances, let us thank God, and 
 stride on in the work of reform. Let us take broader views 
 of humanity, seeing that it is the highest work of God on 
 earth, being part and parcel of his essence, made and fitted 
 to move in him forever, in glory and freedom and seraphic 
 universal love. Let us not suppose that intelligent beings, 
 by being shut into solitude, can improve, either morally or 
 physically ; nor that society is thus rendered safe, seeing 
 that the seeds of crime and other diseases are left outside 
 to germinate and grow.
 
 320 
 
 BELLA 
 
 nature. 
 
 CHAPTER XXVI. 
 
 NATURALIST placed upon his desk two germs, 
 and over them he held a glass of immense magnify 
 ing power. He wanted to read those germs, and to 
 discover what the Invisible was doing in them. 
 He had already read many marvellous works of 
 He had read nature itself. He had learned that 
 the whole universe, from the largest boundary to the small 
 est microscopic atom, is as an egg. From the globules of 
 mist, up to the spheroidal earth, and to the distant and still 
 larger spheroids, all is as an egg, an egg within an egg ; 
 all full of life and law and glory and God. He had 
 studied and thought of the earth in its vast circumference ; 
 with its heaving centre of fire ; its melted, glowing rocks ; its 
 metals and varied secretions ; its broad expanse of "billowy 
 foam ; its motions, winds, and tides; its glory in light ; its re 
 sistless, onward course ; its moving among, and mingling 
 with, other earths; and his soul filled with the wonders of 
 .that power, that, over all, in all, and through all, held the 
 mighty reins, and guided the whole, clothing himself with 
 his works. as he would wrap about him the " drapery of 
 di eams." 
 
 The soul of the naturalist grew larger ; and, as it expanded, 
 he sought to know yet more of his mother earth. He ex 
 tended and deepened his researches ; and behold ! he still 
 found all things as eggs, and in all was life. Everywhere 
 was life, expanding, growing, bursting, its forms decaying,
 
 OR, THE CRADLE OF LIBERTY. 321 
 
 but still renewing. And this life was God. It was the 
 principle of creation, the light of the world. 
 
 The naturalist examined the productions of the earth. He 
 studied the blades of grass, flowers with their dusty pollens, 
 fruit, shrubs, weeds, animals of all kinds, and even the 
 depths so wondrous, and behold ! all were rich with life s 
 rich eggs, joined in wonderful cohesion, with God-life mov 
 ing in their midst. 
 
 The naturalist could not see God. He could not see the 
 life ; but he could see the works of life, which are the works 
 of God. He could feel life within himself, and he knew it 
 was God animating his existence. He knew the same God 
 was in all living organizations ; giving them life, animation, 
 and reproducing seed. 
 
 Then he stood up reverently; and, glowing with wonder, 
 he stretched out his arms, and said, " What ! Am I, too, 
 but an egg? Am I made up of eggs within eggs ? Am I 
 so full of life? Have I, within me, life that I cannot see, 
 life intense, whose particles are beyond my microscopic 
 power, beyond the power of any mortal vision, more subtle 
 than any other power, yea, able to rule all other powers ? 
 Am I but clothing for this power ? Then do I belong to 
 it, to him ! My hands, my limbs, my globular eyes with 
 which I see, my soul, my body, the life within me, all are 
 his ! Nay, I am all his ! Let me pause and worship ! In all 
 things I see his works, and everywhere they are life. Life, 
 falling away and reproducing, forever in motion, moved by 
 rule, and by laws fixed and firm, is God ! And all these 
 works are but as eggs ! Let me go out and worship ! I 
 will cover my head here in his presence ; and I will go out 
 to adore ! " 
 
 Then, reverently placing on his head his wonted hat, he 
 went out out farther and farther through the fields, 
 looking earnestly at all the wonders he had passed a life-
 
 BELLA ; 
 
 time without truly seeing. Now he saw them in a new 
 aspect; for a new light had broken into his mind, and the 
 mirror in which all these creations were reflected was a God- 
 given thought within himself. The friends and servants 
 accompanying him, seeing him so absorbed, dared not even 
 speak. So they went on till they reached the mountains. 
 There the naturalist paused ; and looking about him, at 
 the slopes ascending, the fields waving with green, the 
 wooded heights, the valleys with their flowing streams, and 
 the white peaks beyond ascending to the clouds, he turned 
 his gaze abroad, and his soul swelled with wonder. Then 
 he stooped; and, picking up a piece of moss, he began look 
 ing at it, turning it from side to side, and peering at its 
 fantastic particles, as thdugh some hidden treasure lay 
 within. His servant, alarmed, approached him, hat in 
 hand, and, bowing respectfully, said, "Master, what aileth 
 thee ? Art thou mad ? What seest thou in that twig ? " 
 
 " God ! " said the man, and placed it in his coat breast 
 button-hole. 
 
 Then, girding up his strength, he led the way up the 
 ascent. On and on he went, up and up, across ravines, 
 through woods, through ferns, through tangled bushes, 
 across high rocks, up where the free air played in whirl 
 winds, where the eagle screamed, the high rocks piled, and 
 the "cavernous roars on every side seemed full of spirits 
 playing with the old bards. Here the Unseen seemed visi 
 ble in wildness, and nature lay as it had proceeded from the 
 word of God. 
 
 The naturalist paused. He listened to the deep sepul 
 chral sounds, he heard the winds above him ; and he said, 
 " Spirits and bards are these! There are spirits in every 
 thing ; there are bards the wide world o er. I hear them as 
 the voice of God." 
 
 Then, turning, he saw another mountain opposite. Ita
 
 OR, THE CRADLE OP LIBERTY. 323 
 
 wild, precipitous sides, its fissures where the tiny flowerets 
 straggled through, its clumps of trees, its peaks beyond, 
 hoary with venerable age, inspired the man as he stood look 
 ing from his height. The hat that he had worn as covering 
 between himself and Maker, he now took off; and, holding 
 it in his left hand, with his right he brushed his hair back 
 from his brow, looked upward, downward, and around, and 
 then again at the mountain opposite. The old, old moun 
 tain held its grand sway in dignity, unheeding its own 
 beauty, its caverns, or its roaring winds. The naturalist 
 stood and regarded it ; then, drawing himself up to his full 
 height, with reverence in his countenance, he stooped for 
 ward, and bowed. Then he drew back, and waited ; but 
 the grand old hill returned not his salute. He paused a 
 moment ; then, planting one foot forward, as though to make 
 a nearer approach, he drew himself up proudly, and bowed 
 again, with a reverence deep and long. 
 
 Then his friends were alarmed for his sanity ; and as his 
 servant had approached him respectfully, so they drew near 
 now. They gathered before him ; and, with the rights of 
 men who had been his equals, they looked him in the face. 
 " Ay, surely, thou art mad ! Dost thou worship a moun 
 tain ?" 
 
 He turned his eyes to them, and said simply, "Xay. It 
 is not the mountain I am worshipping, but the God I see 
 within it ; for it is the same God here as everywhere, the 
 same that I saw at home. Creation is all the same. It is 
 all life. Life is its spirit, life its essence ; its manifestations 
 are beings of life. It is all a living egg within an egg. 
 These rocks, once molten particles, the drops of water every 
 where, the trees, the air, the clouds, the vegetation, the skip 
 ping gazelle, the mountain acorn at my feet, this wrinkled 
 moss, all, when in life, are of tiny globlets filled with divine 
 life. Dying, they throw themselves into fantastic forms;
 
 324 BELLA ; 
 
 but, living, their minutest atoms are full of the life we none 
 of uu may give, though we may talce. Let us ascend." 
 
 Then, covering his head, he turned and climbed. His feet 
 seemed tireless ; and he went as if upborne by unseen 
 wings. His friends followed afar off, gazing at him as he 
 uprose from cliff to cliff, never looking backward, but up 
 ward, onward, upward yet again. Glacial snows beneath 
 his feet, glacial ice and fissures, all were glided over as 
 though they were but sunbeams in his path. Eriends and 
 servants plied their staves, but all in vain. They walked 
 by sight, he went by tireless faith. They climbed as men ; 
 he soared as a man who felt God within himself. At length 
 he reached the summit, the ice-clad brow ; and, on its daz 
 zling peak, he stood, alone. Far down, his friends were 
 panting, as they planted their staves. Looking up, they 
 saw him on the dazzling point ; his hat, thrown off, was roll 
 ing far away ; and his arms outstretched, as his head was 
 lifted up, made him look as a human figure ascending to 
 God. And such he was ! He stood, absorbed, as one en 
 tranced ; and his thoughts, emerging from the microscopic 
 egg, went outward ar.d upward in rapt expansion. 
 
 " And yet," he aid to himself, "I do not see the limit. 
 That great outer limit where is it? Where is the boun 
 dary of God ? Where the outer, farther, most distant rind 
 of space, the great, outer shell, the grand circumference ? 
 Where ? " 
 
 . When his friends reached him, he seemed ready to follow 
 his hat down the backward slide, so eagerly his gaze was 
 fastened upward. They clasped him in their arms. "Mas 
 ter, what aileth thee? Thou art presumptuous." 
 
 He dropped his head, and fixed his deep, luminous eyes 
 on theirs. 
 
 "Yes, I am presumptuous. I thought to find God. I 
 see all earthly forms as eggs, full of life. The earth itself
 
 OR, THE CRADLE OF LIBERTY. 
 
 is but au egg. The sun, the moon, the planets, are but 
 eggs. The solar system is an egg, revolving ever. Other 
 suns, and other systems, are eggs, and all go round together 
 in one vast unity; but the limit the* outer bound in 
 vain I try to find it all in vain." 
 
 " Master," said they, "the limit thou mayst never know. 
 There is no limit to God. Why seek him so far away ? If 
 thou shouldst find him there, he would be the same as here. 
 He is unchangeable. Find him in thine own heart, master. 
 He is there. Find him in thine own home. He is there, 
 also ; and thy Aurelia will marvel what has become of thee." 
 
 " Aurelia ! Yes : I will go to her. I had forgotten her 
 in thinking of God. Lead me down." 
 
 They took his hands, and carefully began the descent. 
 His hair was flying in the wind, and his face was full of 
 awe, unsatisfied. 
 
 " Master," said the servant, " wilt take my hat? " 
 
 " Nay. Let me descend from God s presence with only 
 the covering that his Spirit gave me." 
 
 Then they went down, down, past all they saw in ascend 
 ing ; still down, till the green fields came in view, the old, 
 familiar landscape spread before them, and every thing seemed 
 to say, "Welcome back to us, spirit searcher! The 
 Spirit thou seekest is here." 
 
 He came to his own door at evening tide. His locks 
 were wet with the dew, and his garments flapped limp in 
 the darkening air. Aurelia met him at the door. 
 
 " My husband, I have been troubled for thee. Where 
 hast thou been ? " 
 
 He looked in her face a moment, saw their children 
 gathered near, then, bending forward, he fell into her own 
 outspreading arms. 
 
 " I have been" he said, " to find God ; and, behold ! he 
 is here." 
 
 28
 
 326 BELLA ; 
 
 " Yes, my husband, God is here. Wherefore didst thou 
 seek him elsewhere ? " 
 
 " I thought to seek him in boundless space, as life ia 
 immensity, prolific in eternal thought." 
 
 " Thou art seeking higher than thou canst reach, my 
 husband," said Aurelia, as she smoothed his damp hair, and 
 drew off his limp coat. " Thou canst not reach the Infinite 
 with thy finite mind. Thou must find him with such 
 powers as he has given thee. Find him in love, the love of 
 me and them" 
 
 Her finger pointed to the little ones, gathered near. The 
 father s heart was stirred. 
 
 " Thou art right, Aurelia. Call them hither. Let us 
 kneel and pray." 
 
 Then, beneath that blest home roof, there went up such a 
 prayer that the angels stopped to listen ; and God seemed 
 very, very near, even as a part of the loved household. 
 With infinite sweetness in his heart, the father arose ; and a 
 flood of beauty filled his soul. In solemn voice he repeated, 
 " Thou art right, Aurelia : our God is here." 
 
 This was the naturalist who laid before him, on his desk, 
 two germs, and held his powerful glass above them. He 
 had called his children around him. He wanted to teach 
 them the mysteries of life. He drew them near. 
 
 " I have here," said he, " two little germs. Very small 
 they are, mere atoms ; but in them lies enfolded what ? " 
 
 " Life," answered the eldest. " I know you would say 
 life." 
 
 "Right, my son. Life lies dormant in these germs. 
 Dead, apparently, they are ; but each of these little seeds is 
 so wondrously made, that, in suitable circumstances, life would 
 quicken in them, and they would expand and grow with all 
 the organizations of their natures. Worthless as they look, 
 they have within them every element of growth ; and just
 
 OR, THE CRADLE OF LIBERTY. 327 
 
 one touch of electric warmth and natural force would start a 
 power in them that could be checked only by death. They 
 are organized. Look at them, and tell me what kind of life 
 is in them. They are not alike." 
 
 One by one the children took the glass, and, peering 
 through it, scanned the two magnified germs. At the one, 
 and then the other, they looked, then handed back the 
 glass. 
 
 " We cannot tell what kind of life. They are just alike." 
 
 " No, my children. The germs are not alike. Try once 
 more." 
 
 Again they looked, holding the glass above the tiny 
 specks, and unfolding the most marvellously wonder 
 ful constructions, as though a world was graven within, set 
 with a signet of rare and wondrous value ; but what kind of 
 a world, or what the value, no mortal power could tell. The 
 children handed back the glass. 
 
 "They are truly just the same, father." 
 
 The naturalist smiled. "Just so they seem to me, my 
 children. I have scanned them long and earnestly ; I dis 
 cern no difference. But He. who made them sees a differ 
 ence, and they are different ; for one would grow into a tree, 
 the other into an animal." 
 
 The listeners looked incredulous, but the naturalist con 
 tinued. " It is even so, my children. In these two germs I 
 find no marks by which I can distinguish the tree or ani 
 mal ; but the Creator has planned them, and, by a magnetic 
 touch, they quicken into life, and grow, by laws of nature 
 working unseen by human eyes. Once, as you know, I went 
 far up a mountain to find God. Now I cannot even find 
 him here ; but I know there is a power intelligent in these 
 germs, just as there is in all germs, in all the earth, and in 
 all the universe. This power is a unit in itself; but in its 
 works it is multiplied, and various in forms and ways of in-
 
 BELLA ; 
 
 finite varieties. Truly the mysterious workings of life are 
 wonderful ! " 
 
 " Father," said the children, " do all things spring from 
 little germs ? Do we ? " 
 
 "All earthly forms, my dears, spring from germs. We 
 were once but little germs, lying dormant in God s secret 
 storehouse. He touched us by his own laws of love ; and in 
 an instant we sprang into life, endowed with every attribute 
 that would be ours through our existence. Those attributes 
 we can never tear wholly from ourselves, though we may 
 curb, and guide, and govern ourselves by the laws of rea 
 son, thus directing our growth to forms of beauty and holy 
 symmetry. The more I study the laws of nature, the more 
 deeply I am impressed, that, in the very incipience of the 
 germ, lies the stamp of its future. In human germs, with 
 their wonderful, complex organisms, full of spirit and mind, 
 and passions that are to rule their quickeiiings and growth, 
 lie the elements of their after years ; and, in the impulses that 
 give them life, are the seeds of their after growth in good 
 or bad, to courses of life or soul death. It seems to me that 
 a fact of such infinite importance should be known and un 
 derstood by every being born for immortality. Therefore 
 I have called you all together, to tell you the laws of life in 
 its beginning. I tell you such things as I have learned. 
 God dwelleth in the secrets of life; and those people who 
 tamper with these secrets tamper with the holy laws of the 
 Invisible. . 
 
 " You see these germs lying apparently inanimate. With 
 one hand you might sweep them away as two worthless 
 bits ; but you sweep away a tree which might grow up to 
 beauty and usefulness ; and you sweep away an animal 
 which, also, would become useful in its place." 
 
 " No, father : we sweep away germs only. This speak 
 is not a tree, nor that an animal. "
 
 OR, THE CRADLE OP LIBERTY. 329 
 
 "Not yet ; but, under proper circumstances, they will be 
 in the future, and the future is always before us. If we do 
 not live to encounter its wants, myriads ivill live ; and, in all 
 the seed-sowing of the present, we should think of the 
 future. Every germ of life that we destroy or deface or 
 weaken now, destroys, defaces, and weakens the future." 
 
 " But, father, are we expected to preserve and care for 
 every seed and bulb and root and graft of vegetation, or 
 for every little egg and embryo of animals, of which you 
 sometimes tell ? " 
 
 " No," the father answered thoughtfully, " perhaps not 
 in vegetation, or the lower classes of animal creations ; but 
 when we ascend to ourselves, with our natures planted deep 
 in animal powers, yet ascending to God in intellects and 
 affections, we are bound by life itself, and by God who is 
 life, to watch, and guard from harm, each little gerni ! One 
 hidden embryo, be it but a microscopic atom, has in it every 
 element of the future man or woman. They who destroy or 
 injure it, destroy or injure immortality. We all know that 
 seeds, or germs, inherit qualities. The acorn becomes an 
 oak, because the mother of the acorn was an oak, and 
 the seed has inherited its mother s qualities. The germs of 
 different animals grow to maturity in just such structures 
 and natures as their parents had, because they, as germs, 
 derived and inherited these natures. These are all quick 
 ened into growing life by instincts of nature, governed by 
 natural laws ; therefore, each is proper and perfect in its 
 way. But when we ascend to men, we find new elements, 
 and new powers governing each creation. Above instinct, 
 we find reason and moral qualities. The quickening of 
 germs can no longer follow blind instinct ; for reason has 
 usurped the place of instinct, and we must know the whys 
 and wherefores and the hows of all our actions, creation 
 among the rest. I tell these things, my children, because
 
 330 BELLA ; 
 
 you will be men and women ; and while in these tender 
 years you are growing to assume life s duties, you should 
 learn what those duties are. I send you to others to learn 
 your geographies and the higher hranches of what men call 
 learning ; but the secrets of life I teach you myself, even as I 
 teach you to pray and praise : for I believe the keeping of 
 the laws of the secrets of life is more sacred than any 
 outward form of religious worship ; for these secrets are the 
 foundation of human nature and existence. They are 
 secrets resulting from the laws of the unseen God whom 
 men profess to honor, and have been established in nature 
 as an integral and vital part. When men die, all people 
 are serious. All feel that it is a solemn thing to enter upon 
 that unseen existence from which there is no return. But 
 there is a moment of vastly more importance to every indi 
 vidual, a moment of more impressive grandeur and more 
 ineffaceable stamp, when even the eternal destiny of each 
 person is fixed." 
 
 The father paused; and the children, looking up inquir 
 ingly, asked, " Is it when people are born ? " 
 
 " No : it is not when people are called born. At birth 
 the child is already a growing being. It has obtained con 
 sistency and form sufficient to present it to the eyes of love. 
 It has been already stamped with its mental as well as its 
 physical characteristics. Greater than death, greater than 
 birth, greater than any event of life, is that moment, that 
 second, when electric love flashing to electric love, wakens 
 the eternal germ of one hidden, secret atom of eternal human 
 life, and kindles it into an action that must resound through 
 the never-ceasing passages of immortality. That is a hal 
 lowed moment in the acts of Nature, when, in God s own 
 way, a soul immortal springs to action, for weal or woe, for 
 joy or sorrow, for usefulness or crime. By its previous sit 
 uation the human geruihad inherited its physical character;
 
 OR, THE CRADLE OP LIBERTY. 331 
 
 and, in this hallowed moment, its impulses and moral nature 
 are stamped. 
 
 " After years may labor on children ; the father may work 
 for them, the mother may nurture them in love ; society and 
 religion may work together for them ; but never, never, can. 
 the first instantaneous stamp be removed, and never can 
 people be free from the passions and emotions then given 
 them. 
 
 " The Bible recognizes God s secrets and their power. 
 David says, Behold I was shapen in iniquitj , and in sin 
 did my mother conceive me ; and the secret of Christ s pure 
 and wonderful life lay in his pure and holy beginning. The 
 Father did not leave him to the chance mouldings of after 
 life, but made his character sure in the stamp of his crea 
 tion. His strength to overcome all passion was derived 
 from the quickening powers of his germ-life; and no temp 
 tations of manhood could warp or bend that holy nature." 
 
 " And why," asked the children, " does not God have us 
 all made so beautifully ? " 
 
 " Why," repeated the naturalist. "Why? If you ask 
 me the why, I shall be lost, even as I was lost on the moun 
 tain when I sought God s limit. No man may know the 
 limit, or the why ; but this I know : We are right when we 
 keep near God, and walk in his laws of nature. Human 
 beings cannot sink to brutedom. They cannot fall from 
 reason to instinct, but they can fall below it ; and, to save 
 humanity from such a fall, we need instruction. If we 
 would be like Christ, we must be created by God s laws of 
 purity and love." 
 
 " But, father, if Christ was created in a way by which he 
 was more holy than we, then we can never be like him." 
 
 " We can seek to approach him in likeness, my children. 
 And we can seek the laws of life in its secrets, that we may 
 know how to create our children in more purity than we
 
 BELLA ; 
 
 were created, and thus take the first step towards the great 
 regeneration of the human race ; for this purpose, we need 
 instruction in the laws of Nature. Every leaf that falls, 
 every flower that blooms, does so by the laws of Nature. 
 Every particle of dust, and every unseen element, is subject 
 to these laws. Even so every germ that quickens into life 
 is subject to these laws. Herein lie great truths, mighty 
 truths, and truths that hold within them the eternal desti 
 nies of the human race, and the progress of nations. These 
 truths I shall teach to you, my children, from time to time, 
 even as I teach you all truths, as you become capable of 
 understanding them. Let us now kneel down and pray." 
 
 If all fathers were like this naturalist, such truths would 
 be disseminated among the children of our homes as would 
 save them from temptations, crimes, lunacy, diseases, and a 
 myriad of evils that now grow up in people, leading them to 
 prisons, misery, and death. Thoughtful people view the in 
 crease of crime in our country with sorrow, and inquiries 
 how to prevent it. Sabbath schools and pulpits have little 
 power over large classes who never come under their influ 
 ence ; and some who do, seem to have no stamina within 
 themselves by which to follow the good that is taught them. 
 As a consequence, we have prisons, asylums, homes, peniten 
 tiaries, jails, houses of correction, houses of sin, reform 
 schools, and every appliance for punishment ; yet our people 
 seem like the children of a father who is constantly flogging, 
 while, the more he flogs, the more the children transgress. 
 Something different is needed to save us from these evils ; 
 and instruction in themselves, such instruction as teaches 
 them from youth the value of themselves as living creations 
 of God, is needed. 
 
 In no way have nations more surely fallen into degener 
 acy than by the continued and successive creations of new 
 generations, under emotions and influences and circuni-
 
 OB, THE CRADLE OF LIBERTY. 333 
 
 stances that carry death to the soul-powers of the human 
 germs at the instant that they quicken them into life. As 
 the children carry to manhood and old age the inherited 
 traits of their ancestors, so they bear through time and 
 through eternity the very impulses of the parental spirits 
 that moved their earthly creators at their beginnings. 
 Then, being thus begotten by ignorance, they are left to 
 grope their way along, learning the alphabet of letters, but 
 never the alphabet of life. It is derogatory to the intelli 
 gence of young people to suppose they can learn of every 
 other subject in the universe, and have no curiosity with 
 regard to the secrets of human reproduction. They do feel 
 curiosity ; and if they cannot be allowed to have pure, scien 
 tific instruction, they will seek the impure, and the conse 
 quence will appear in the increase of insanity, defilement, 
 and crime. 
 
 Withholding scientific, proper instruction in life from the 
 young does not promote their purity. It throws around 
 these topics a veil of mystery that stimulates the desires of 
 young persons for knowledge of what is carefully kept from 
 them ; and, in default of better instruction, they eagerly seek 
 that which is written by base persons, which is as poison to 
 them. A statement has just appeared in public prints, rel 
 ative to licentious publications. 
 
 "A young man of New York commenced, single-handed, 
 a crusade against the dealers in licentious literature. He 
 had not much encouragement ; the police winked at the 
 traffic ; many influential men were indifferent ; and it was 
 only by the most persevering efforts that he succeeded in get 
 ting any attention paid to his demands. At length he se 
 cured the indirect support of the Young Men s Christian 
 Association, and of the leading men in the American Tract 
 Society, and the hearty co-operation of the Assistant Dis 
 trict Attorney. As a result of his efforts, six of the
 
 334 BELLA ; 
 
 dealers were carried to the State prison, over half a million 
 publications were seized and destroyed. In a single seizure, 
 nine tons were captured. Enough has been brought to 
 light to make it clear that these dealers have emissaries in 
 every town, and canvassers in many of our schools, both 
 male and female." 
 
 " This," says a New York paper, " is a matter which de 
 mands the attention of our public authorities everywhere. 
 It ought not to be left to private individuals to ferret out 
 this species of rascality. The American Tract Society are 
 entitled to the support and commendation of the entire 
 community, irrespective of sect .or party, in the endeavor to 
 arouse public sentiment on this subject, and in their effort, 
 by establishing a cheap arid illustrated literature, to sup 
 plant the obscene and vicious." 
 
 How can we read that, without seeing secret desires of 
 young people for some light on these secret subjects. This 
 traffic rests, like all trade, on the laws of demand and sup 
 ply. There is a secret demand among our young people 
 for these works, or there would be no supply. The stop 
 page of sales in one quarter will not stop the evil. Other 
 printers will arise, other salesmen will be found ; and, as 
 long as the demand continues, the secret sales will go on. 
 Universal, continued, and persistent instruction on these 
 very subjects is the only remedy that will effectually cure 
 the evil. Good, cheap, and illustrated literature serves its 
 own good purposes ; but it never touches these secret sub 
 jects, therefore the young are still in darkness. Our 
 young people are too intelligent to be left thus ignorant. 
 
 In a nation where liberty is fostered till the people are 
 imbued with its noble spirit, precautions and watchful care 
 are needed lest poisons mingle with the good instruction, 
 and freedom demand rights which are wrong. When free 
 dom encroaches on the laws of right, she seeks ivrong, and
 
 OR, THE CRADLE OF LIBERTY. 335 
 
 her beautiful name is tarnished. When she prefixes free to 
 love, and gives approval to the compounded word, she lays 
 the foundation of practices that will destroy herself, rilling 
 her nursery with vices of every form. 
 
 Love, as it comes from God, is free, impartial, and uni 
 versal ; but we must receive it under laws that we cannot 
 violate without penalties. We have no right to inculcate 
 ideas that lead us as unrestrained passions within may dic 
 tate ; nor have we a right to permit ignorance by which our 
 young people rush blindly into quagmires of destruction. 
 Love has laws, and life has laws ; and we must learn these 
 laws, or we can never follow them. 
 
 Life and love are by nature blended in humanity, even 
 as in God. When we say, God is life, or God is love, we 
 speak synonomous terms ; for life and love have an eternal 
 marriage in infinity. They should be wedded in finite con 
 structions. Love gives birth to life ; and life, when con 
 ceived, should be love. But this love must be free from 
 grossness, else the life will not be pure ; and beings created 
 with impure life will fall victims to insanity, disease, and 
 crime, which is disease. 
 
 Of all diseases, crime is the most deadly, the most to be 
 dreaded. It cannot be driven out by harshness or prisons 
 or chains or coercions. It is a disease that works in the 
 reason, the moral faculties, and the perceptions. It can be 
 cured only by intelligent love seeking its roots, and apply 
 ing remedies there. We shut criminals into prison ; but 
 crime still works outside, springing up in new victims ; and 
 all around us are people on whose vitals the secrets of crime 
 are feeding. 
 
 Works of instruction on the physiology of ourselves 
 should be, as we have said, universal in our public schools ; 
 and, in our homes, there should be text-books on the secrets 
 of human life, seeing that every person is compelled by
 
 336 BELLA ; 
 
 nature to pass through these secrets. If prudish people 
 cover their faces, and call it immodest to introduce works of 
 instruction on these subjects, let them watch the columns of 
 their newspapers, and then ask whether we have not already 
 cause to blush ? Throwing down the evening paper in dis 
 gust, a young girl said, " Father, why don t you take a bet 
 ter paper ? " 
 
 He looked at her in surprise. "That is a first-class 
 paper. I can find no better." 
 
 " It isn t fit to read," she answered. ".It is full of mur 
 ders and robberies and suicides, and all horrible doings." 
 
 " But, my dear, these sad things occur among the people ; 
 and it is the business of the papers to record them." 
 
 "Then I wish we had better people," the girl replied. 
 
 We should all say of our papers as she said, if we had 
 not become hardened by habit of reading them. The dis 
 gusting records of crimes, the lists of advertisements for 
 diseases that never should be, the statistics of our locked 
 institutions, and the records of our courts, show plainly 
 what terrible secrets are lurking beneath the current show 
 of morality. Let legislators vote money to pay our 
 learned men for writing, and our publishers for issuing, 
 books of instruction to supply ever} family of every city, 
 town, ward, and district, with text-books on the workings 
 of life. This would be far less cost than prisons, and all 
 the cumberings of courts in which to try unfortunate peo 
 ple diseased with sin. Let government spend money to 
 teach and save the people, not to punish them with worse 
 than death. 
 
 The strength of a nation lies in the strength of its 
 homes ; but intelligent people can never have strong, 
 virtuous homes, till the beings born in those homes are 
 created, and reared also, by Nature s pure laws. 
 
 This science of life that should be taught in our homes
 
 OK, THE CRADLE OP LIBERTY. 337 
 
 is deeply connected with every human being s welfare. It 
 is ingrafted into our deepest impulsive motive power ; and 
 yet that science is utterly ignored in the education of the 
 masses. Young people step within the bonds of wedlock, 
 take upon themselves the holiest and most essential duties 
 of earth, and become creators of immortal beings, without 
 one sensible idea of what they are doing, or one iota of true 
 knowledge of themselves, or of the helpless immortals they 
 bring into life. Much weeping there is in consequence ; 
 " Rachel weeping for her children, because they are not," 
 and sometimes weeping because they are. Cruel it is to 
 mothers to compel them, or permit them, to bring into the 
 world and rear offspring whose end must be in infamy, 
 because of the moral infamy by which their conceptive 
 births were stamped. 
 
 Much is charged at the door of Providence that should 
 be charged to our own ignorance ; and many parents ask 
 resignation to the will of God, when they have unknow 
 ingly gone in the face of that will "by their direct violations 
 of the laws of Nature, that they might have learned, and 
 would have learned, if society countenanced such knowl 
 edge. Little babes lie in the laps of mothers who have 
 not one trite idea of their inner systems, natures, or needs. 
 The mothers know the piano, the fashions, and, mayhap, 
 their housework ; the fathers know how to make money. 
 But of the little innocents that have come to them, they 
 know nothing. By their stupidity they make the children 
 ill; then they run for a doctor ; the children live perhaps, 
 perhaps they die, and it is all laid to Providence ; and, 
 in all our enlightened land, none rise to teach the people 
 that the fault is in their own ignorance. 
 
 Young people, and people in maturity, yield to vile de 
 basements, and become as scum in our midst j and often 
 this, too, is chargeable to ignorance. 
 
 29
 
 338 BELLA ; 
 
 On whatever subject we permit ignorance to rest its 
 blight, we shall find the saddest of effects. And when 
 that subject is our own selves, in any department of our 
 natures, woe is ours. We cannot escape the penalties if 
 we violate nature ; and we have but one way to escape 
 these violations, that way is by instruction. 
 
 This instruction belongs to government, just as common 
 schools belong to it. Government should cause the sub 
 jects of human life to be made the object of text-book in 
 struction, till every family of every city and town through 
 out our broad land is made acquainted with the inexorable 
 laws of Nature on these delicate, vital points. In no other 
 "way can the people of our country be saved from destruc 
 tion. 
 
 To be forgiven for sin is the greatest blessing a sinner 
 can receive ; but to be saved from becoming sinners is 
 the highest gift intelligent people need. 
 
 Especially does this grand work of instruction belong to 
 us as Americans. By every tie that binds us to humanity, 
 by every ship that sails to the East or to the West, by our 
 situation between the two borders of the immense Eastern 
 hemisphere, by our enlightenment in science, our enter 
 prise, our national vigor, our advance in freedom, and our 
 free, untrammelled gospel, we are bound to start these 
 mighty ideas, and to teach people the natural laws of 
 their own lives. 
 
 There are no more new countries to settle. The earth is 
 girdled with inhabitants. There is no large, empty space 
 whither the good can flee as those Pilgrims came to Ply 
 mouth Rock. Henceforth we must all live in thickly- 
 settled countries ; and shall these countries be covered with 
 people shut into cells and dungeons at a cost of law and 
 expense to government that is fearful to contemplate ? 
 Or shall our governments expend to save the people ? It
 
 OR, THE CRADLE OF LIBERTY. 339 
 
 would cost far less to instruct the nation than to support 
 the heavy array of courts, and ponderous castles studding 
 the land, as temples where the prince of darkness reigns. 
 Let us open our eyes to these facts ; and let us arise to 
 demand instruction from our learned men, ere the seeds of 
 corruption are so thickly sown as to destroy our people. 
 
 Thus, and thus only, we shall be spared the loathsome 
 spectacles that meet us now in dismal corridors and miser 
 able cells.
 
 340 BELLA ; 
 
 CHAPTEE XXVII. 
 
 |E have spoken of the nation as a mass of individu 
 als, and of the cleansing of these individuals, as we 
 would purify the drops of water in order that the 
 ocean may he full of limpid purity. There is 
 another view of a nation, in which all the people may 
 he ranked as one hody, and the nation be as one individual. 
 This individual nation has its currents, its flows, its central 
 head of thought, its working departments, its consuming 
 departments, its intellectual and physical strength, its 
 healthy and unhealthy situations. 
 
 At this moment the question comes to us, Is this nation 
 healthy ? And we answer, The blood is too much in the 
 head. The extremities are cold. In other words, the in 
 tellect and thought power is too centralized in the cities. 
 The rural domains are desolate and cold. 
 
 J. G. Holland says, " We find, that, in the world s 
 estimate, certain professions, callings, and trades are held 
 highest, held to be most respectable and honorable. So 
 the world rushes after them, rushes into them ; so half of 
 the world gets out of its place at once, and the world gets 
 made by its callings, and does not make itself at all. 
 
 " Now, the truth is, that every man is respectable, and 
 every power grows in man symmetrically, only when he is 
 in his place." 
 
 Mr. Holland illustrates this by the different classes of 
 horses. He gives the qualities of family-horses, saddle-
 
 OR, THE CRADLE OF LIBERTY. 341 
 
 horses, truck-horses, farm-horses, trotting-horses, and so on, 
 and then proceeds to ask the propriety of fitting an ele 
 phantine truck-horse for the race-course, or of harnessing 
 racers before a heavy load, or of training a farm-horse fora 
 lady s saddle, or using the graceful ambler for a breaking- 
 up plough. " All these horses," he says, " are beautiful in 
 their places, but are spoiled out of place." 
 
 Then he adds, " What a lesson for us is there in this 
 illustration ! Bear me witness that the track of American 
 public and professional life is crowded with human truck- 
 horses, and saddle-horses, and farm-borses, and family- 
 horses, all entered for the premium on speed, all making 
 themselves ridiculous by the efforts they put forth to win it, 
 and all spoiling themselves for the sphere to which their 
 native individualities are adapted. 
 
 " Thousands of these unhappy men were started and 
 stimulated in their courses by such general and indiscrimi 
 nate counsels as I have alluded to. As boys, as young 
 men, they were told to aim high, and were particularly 
 informed, that, if they pointed their arrows at the sun, the 
 flight would be higher than it would be if they aimed 
 lower, another of those precious maxims, by-the-way, of 
 which the world has too many ; as if it were not better to 
 knock from a Virginia rail-fence a respectable gray 
 squirrel, than to spend one s shots on the blank, blue sky. 
 No man who can hit any thing can afford to waste his 
 arrows upon an object which he knows they can never 
 reach. . . . His aim must be determined by the shape of 
 his arrow, the size of his bow, and the strength of his 
 arm. 
 
 " The professional and political lives are those which the 
 great world of unformed mind is taught to regard, not only 
 as desirable above all things, but as attainable by all men ; 
 and, being both desirable and attainable, to be striven for. 
 
 29*
 
 342 BELLA ; 
 
 The effect has been to crowd professional life with mounte 
 banks and inferior men, and political life with demagogues. 
 It will not be disputed, I suppose, that there are more men 
 engaged in the professions of law and medicine than the 
 country has any need of; more than can obtain a respect 
 able livelihood for themselves. The popular notion the 
 popular fallacy is, that, if a man is going to make any 
 thing of himself, he must be in public or professional life 
 of some sort. 
 
 " I hesitate to speak of the effect of these false ideas upon 
 the Christian ministry, because it is impossible to judge 
 how far they have been complicated with conscience, hon 
 est self-consecration, and motives of beneficence. ... I 
 will not undertake to decide so delicate a question as this 
 matter involves ; but I may be allowed to say, that it seems 
 to me a more Christian thing to be a first-rate Christian 
 lawyer, or a first-rate Christian farmer, or a first-rate Chris 
 tian shoemaker, than a fifth-rate Christian minister. If a 
 young man becomes religious, and puts himself under the 
 law of love, it is not, therefore, necessary to his highest 
 efficiency in the Master s service, that he become a preacher. 
 Nay, the pulpit may be the place of all others in the world 
 where he would be the most likely to do damage to the 
 cause he loves. . . . 
 
 " I have sometimes fancied that the reason why so few are 
 adapted to the three varieties of professional life that we are 
 considering is, that there was no original provision made 
 for these classes of men. When Eve, our dear, over- 
 tempted grandmother, did that which brought death into 
 the world, and all our woe, she did that which brought phy 
 sicians into the work and all lawyers, and ministers. If 
 our race had not fallen, it would not have needed ministers 
 certainly ; and a race that would do without ministers would 
 offer a very unpromising field for the professions of law
 
 OR, THE CEADLE OP LIBERTY. 343 
 
 and medicine. I cannot help thinking, that, when the 
 golden thousand years, which have been promised us so long, 
 shall come, professional life will be much less desirable than 
 it is now. Every man will be as good as a minister, and 
 every lawyer will be a man ; and the favorite professional 
 joke about the existence of an " alarming state of health " 
 will become as serious as it is stale. 
 
 " But, at this day, it is in politics, quite as much as in 
 the professions, that we see the effect of those unwise coun 
 sels given to the young, which have been noticed in this 
 discussion. A poor boy rises to become a governor, as many 
 a poor boy has worthily risen, as many a poor boy, I 
 trust, may worthily rise, or he has become a member of 
 Congress, or achieved some higher or humbler position in. 
 political life. To the young mind, these titles, and these 
 positions, are so represented as to appear to be the prizes 
 for which their possessors have striven ; as a fitting and 
 natural object and reward of their labors. The young have 
 not been taught, by their self-appointed counsellors, that 
 manhood is the highest human estate ; that office can con 
 fer honor upon no man who is worthy of it, and that it will 
 disgrace every man who is not. They have not been 
 taught, that to desire office, and to labor for it for the sake 
 of its honors and distinctions, is the meanest of all am 
 bitions, and the most degrading of all pursuits. They have 
 not been taught to distinguish between a self-made man 
 and a self-made governor ; and brought to understand that 
 a self-made man is greater than a self-made governor; and 
 that a self-made governor is less than a man. Vital dis 
 tinctions like these have been ignored ; and the conse 
 quence is, boys without beards may be counted by thousands, 
 in this country, who have already begun their dreams of 
 political distinction as a legitimate aim of life ; and who 
 are, of course, growing up into demagogues."
 
 344 BELLA ; 
 
 In addition to these overcrowded classes that Mr. Hol 
 land enumerates, there should be added another, more 
 overdone, if possible, than the others. It is the class of 
 writers. No persons have more powerful influence than 
 writers for the public; but at the present moment the 
 crowds seeking to behold their writings in print are innu 
 merable, and myriads of them had better never touch a pen. 
 That which is written for the public should proceed from 
 the deepest and best thoughts of the deepest and best peo 
 ple. Public writers should be pure with God s own truths, 
 warm with the very essence of simple, natural life, replete 
 with solid qualities, and never the result of hot-bed culti 
 vation. The present style of fiction is sentimental and 
 highflown, to a degree that is actual poison to young minds, 
 and, therefore, sin. The sentiments are highflown, the 
 lovers are ecstatic, their loves are rhapsodies, the rooms of 
 courtship are palace rooms, the dress of the lovers is fault 
 less, their money flows in unearned, their language is mel 
 lifluous, their dispositions heavenly ; and, in every part of 
 life, they are perfection. These are the pictures on which 
 our young people feed, till their imaginations are colored by 
 falsities never to be realized. They fancy their own loves 
 tame, because the persons they love are only mortal flesh 
 and blood ; and, according to these writers, poor people can 
 never love, because they have not brown-stone fronts, and 
 Brussels tapestry. 
 
 As to country people, if these writers picture them at all, 
 they caricature them in uncouth style, make them appear 
 verdant, and put in their mouths such language, that 
 young people living in the country, and reading these stories, 
 are almost afraid of themselves, and flee to the cities to 
 avoid the stigma of " countrified." 
 
 Thus the writers^ the editors, and publishers, feed the 
 country on sentiments that help it towards ruin, by mis-
 
 OK, THE CRADLE OF LIBERTY. 345 
 
 placing its young and vigorous people, starving the rural 
 domains mentally, and over-stuffing the cities. Thus the 
 beautiful, quiet country, the quaint old places, the valleys, 
 the hill-sides, the mountain recesses, and the once beloved 
 farms, where the dear old fathers and mothers dwelt, are 
 deserted by the educated young people, and by the enter 
 prising who are not educated. They go where they imagine 
 higher spheres await them, and where they imagine life 
 will run on golden wheels. 
 
 Thus the intellect is taken from the broad country where 
 the air is pure with natural aromas, where the minds and 
 and bodies, spirits and intellects, of men may bathe in Na 
 ture s fresh, pure atmosphere ; and people huddle into city 
 passages, to live in miasmas, and partake of the diseases 
 engendered there. 
 
 Why should the cities absorb the intellect, and the broad, 
 beautiful country lie barren? The circulation of thought 
 thus becomes clogged and irregular, too rapid and heated 
 in the central marts, too stupid and slow in the extremities. 
 Good men have less power, and bad men multiply, by this 
 means. 
 
 Dante says, 
 
 " For where the argument of intellect 
 Is added unto evil will and power, 
 No rampart can the people make against it." 
 
 There is more danger from evil passions, where intellect 
 is large, to lead them to their evil purposes. Let us remem 
 ber this, and use our knowledge to plant, and train, and 
 bring to fruitage, the trees of goodness. Then we can 
 change the poet s theme, and say, 
 
 " For where the argument of intellect 
 Is added unto goodness, love, and power, 
 No rampart can ill people make against it."
 
 346 BELLA ; 
 
 CHAPTER XXVIII. 
 
 CONCLUSION. 
 
 |E have become a great and a powerful nation; but 
 there is a power that can destroy us, and the name 
 of that power is sin. Sin in the hearts, and in the 
 systems, of individuals, works out its own corrup 
 tions. All the nations of the past have fallen under 
 its influence. It is a disease that eats out the souls and 
 bodies of humanity. N"ot only must we seek to stop it at 
 it s fountain, but we must open the avenues of purification 
 wider all the way along where the rivers of society run. 
 As a nation, we revel in money ; but millions of it are used 
 for purposes that destroy, instead of preserving, morals or 
 physical health. Millions of dollars are expended for jails, 
 penitentiaries, prisons, detectives, lawyers, sheriffs, asylums, 
 houses of correction, and various devices for punishing ; and 
 into these the wayward are thrust, in the full belief, that, 
 in these punishments, lies the healing of sin. Millions 
 more are invested in churches, at which the masses may 
 look, but into which they seldom enter. They feel that 
 they have no rights there. The houses are the houses of 
 a few, owned by private right, with pews set apart and 
 owned by individuals for their own right. If strangers 
 come in, they must wait at the portals for invitation to 
 enter the house of men, not God. God s portals are free 
 as the sunshine of heaven.
 
 OR, THE CRADLE OP LIBERTY. 347 
 
 We have a locking-out, as well as a locking-in. Society- 
 locks the masse* out of churches; and, when they sin, it 
 locks them in-to prisons. 
 
 When men build churches, why do they not make them 
 a free gift unto the Lord ? Why do they hold the seats as 
 private property for those who can afford to hire or buy ? 
 Is it not enough that they have houses of their own, in 
 which they and their families dwell as they list ? In the 
 houses of God we should all meet in common. Because a 
 man has paid largely toward the building, or toward the 
 pastor s maintenance, is no reason why he should have 
 the undisputed right to a certain seat. The house is the 
 Lord s, built especially for his worship, and not that a cer 
 tain few may have private passage to paradise through its 
 portals ! If the men whose money has built and sustained 
 the houses enter and find no place for themselves because 
 the seats are already full of worshippers drawn hither on a 
 lovely sabbath day, let these men stay without, and thank 
 God, saying, " For this did we build the temple, that the 
 people might have where to gather in worship." 
 
 This is the true spirit of Christ. If he should now 
 appear in the flesh, and attend a sale or renting of pews, 
 would he not drive out the money-changers, and say, "Ye 
 shall not make my house a house of merchandise ? " 
 
 But people say, " There are free churches, and free pews 
 set apart in all our churches." 
 
 Perhaps there are, but only the very humble will attend 
 worship under such circumstances. The class who most 
 need religious influences will not take its outward observ 
 ance in this way. Therefore they spend their sabbaths 
 in ways of doubtful benefit, not choosing to advertise their 
 poverty by attending free churches. Rev. Alexander 
 McKenzie sa3 r s, " That pew-rents are high is not the rea 
 son why common people do not all go to church. Those
 
 348 BELLA ; 
 
 I 
 
 who are too poor to pay for a seat in church manage to pay 
 for other things of less value." 
 
 This may be true. It may be that multitudes of people 
 do not feel like depriving themselves of all other pleasures 
 for the sake of a seat in church. We are apt to use our 
 money for that which we like best ; and it may be that 
 myriads of the common people do not so love the pure wor 
 ship of God as to be frugal in the comforts, luxuries, and 
 necessaries of life through the week, for the sake of a place 
 in the house of God on the sabbath. What, then, is the 
 duty of Christians? Is it not to make religion free? If 
 the people at large do not so love the worship of God, 
 Christ s people should remove every stumbling-block out of 
 the way, and love should flow out to those who need pure 
 love. The houses of our Saviour s remembrance should be 
 made free as the streets in which all people walk, that 
 whenever the sabbath stroller sees a church-spire, he may 
 know that there is a spot where people are free, where they 
 have a right to turn in and listen, even as they have a 
 right to walk the streets. Rich men pay by far the heavier 
 amounts for building earthly highways, and the poor walk 
 freely in them. Why should the highways to heaven be 
 held under bondage of money? The rich and virtuous 
 meet all kinds of people in the streets, and are not harmed 
 thereby. Why should not they sit together in the streets 
 that lead towards paradise, in the gates of the houses of 
 God? 
 
 In all our churches, of all denominations, the rich and 
 poor should meet side by side without thought of who owns 
 or who does not own. The " publicans and harlots " should 
 have equal rights with the righteous and pure : for so, may 
 hap, the sinful and criminals will be healed of their soul 
 diseases, and the love of God be increased. Christ would 
 surely direct this method.
 
 OR, THE CRADLE OP LIBERTY. 349 
 
 Our Saviour went out into the by-ways and hedges to 
 find those whom the devout of his nation had left out. We 
 should not only go out to them, hut try to draw them in. 
 The churches are under the control of those who profess to 
 feel an interest in the welfare of the people. Let them 
 prove this interest by opening the portals of the houses they 
 control ; for in this way they may help open the portals of 
 heaven, and bring down upon us the peace thereof. 
 
 We talk of opening public libraries on the sabbath, that 
 people may have places of quiet resort : it surely would be a 
 better thing to open the doors of churches, and let the 
 people walk in and hear the Word of God free, here, in this 
 country, this Cradle of Liberty ! " Ho every one that 
 thirsteth, come ye to the waters : buy wine and milk 
 without money and without price." 
 
 We are told, that, in heaven, we shall all be as one. The 
 criminals in their dark cells have this promise. But here 
 on earth people will not accept the company of these men. 
 The fine lady draws away her garments, the " priest and 
 Levite walk by on the other side." Will they be willing to 
 associate with the criminals on that other shore ? There 
 must be a great change in their hearts ere they accept a 
 heaven in which felons and convicts and low people are 
 found. 
 
 Enemies of our Saviour s gospel accuse our churches of 
 being extravagant, corrupt, and worldly. Let Christians 
 fling back their church doors, and say to all these, " Come in. 
 Come and see what we are. Join your chants with ours, 
 if we are good; if we are not, help to make us better." 
 
 Let those from prisons come ; let the wretched come ; 
 let the strollers come ; let the rich and poor come, and sit 
 side by side. For these churches are way-houses, where all 
 may be guided to heaven. If they are too costly to be 
 made free, let them be made more simple. God does not 
 
 30
 
 350 BELLA ; 
 
 ask for rich houses. He asks for the heart. He aslcs for 
 love and kindness among the people, and he is glorified 
 thereby. 
 
 Thus is ended, " Bella ; or, The Cradle of Liberty ; " but 
 thus is not ended the labors of the people that this book 
 enjoins ; for the people are to lift up these works, and 
 carry them on. We have written what we can in this 
 brief space ; but that which should be written and done is 
 the work of time, and let people be careful, that, when they 
 take up these labors, they do as the God of nature directs. 
 For the year of jubilee is coming, the year when our free 
 dom celebrates its first centennial year. On that day, 
 when bells peal, and cannons echo, and children shout, let 
 there be no prisoners wailing in the midst. Let there be 
 no houses locked to shut sufferers within, nor houses locked 
 to keep worshippers out, nor children created in thought 
 less passion and with broken natures, nor people growing 
 up in ignorance, uncared for and untrained. But from sea 
 to sea, over mountains and hills and plains, through cities 
 and through woods, where Eastern breezes blow through 
 homes, and Western, winds clarify the air, let voices join in 
 one song of acclamation. Mothers and fathers, wives and 
 husbands, children and parents, all shall join. Then Bella, 
 with her curls once more growing, her eyes once more 
 shining, and her heart restored to happiness, shall sing 
 soprano over Mortimer s bass, while Harry, keeping sym 
 phony in his grand old heart, shall shine in their midst 
 as the good and the true ever shine. And this shall be 
 the song of the nation on that day, 
 
 " Joy to the world ! The Lord is come ! 
 
 Let earth receive her King ! 
 Let every heart prepare him room, 
 And heaven and nature sing !
 
 OR, THE CKADLE OF LIBERTY. 351 
 
 Joy to the earth ! The Saviour reigns ! 
 
 Let men their songs employ ! 
 While fields and floods, rocks, hills, and plains, 
 
 Eepeat the sounding joy. 
 
 No more let sin and sorrow grow, 
 
 Nor thorns infest the ground : 
 He comes to make his blessings flow 
 
 As far as sin is found. 
 
 He rules the world with truth and grace, 
 
 And makes the nations prove 
 The glories of his righteousness, 
 
 And wonders of his love. 
 
 Joy to the world ! The Lord is come ! 
 
 Let earth receive her King ; 
 Let every heart prepare him room, 
 
 And heaven and nature sing ! "
 
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