fig CALIF. LIBRARY. LOS ANGELA
 
 Master Hathorne's Family. 
 
 Page 96. 
 
 Frontispiece.
 
 MASTER HATHORNE'S 
 FAMILY: 
 
 A STORY OF THE EARLY BOSTON BAPTISTS 
 
 GEORGE E. MERRILL. 
 
 PHILADELPHIA: 
 AMERICAN BAPTIST PUBLICATION SOCIETY; 
 
 1430 CHESTNUT STREET.
 
 CONTENTS. 
 
 CHAPTER I. 
 
 PACK 
 
 MASTER HATHORNB AT HOME 7 
 
 CHAPTER II. 
 RUTH HATHORNE 23 
 
 CHAPTER III. 
 PAUL WALLINGFORD'S VIEWS 40 
 
 CHAPTER IV. 
 THE WRECKED BOAT 58 
 
 CHAPTER V. 
 THE ANXIOUS INOJJIRER 72 
 
 CHAPTER VI. 
 PAUL WALLINGFORD'S PURPOSE. 91 
 
 CHAPTER VII. . 
 
 A STORM IN THE FAMILY 117 
 
 I
 
 4 CONTENTS. 
 
 CHAPTER VIII. 
 
 THE JOURNEY TO PROVIDENCE 131 
 
 CHAPTER IX. 
 THE STORY OF OBADIAH HOLMES 157 
 
 CHAPTER X. 
 THE TREACHEROUS ATTACK. 179 
 
 CHAPTER XI. 
 THE RESCUE OF RUTH 188 
 
 CHAPTER XII. 
 ARRIVAL AT ROGER WILLIAMS' 200 
 
 CHAPTER XIII. 
 PAUL EXPLAINS HIS PLANS 214 
 
 CHAPTER XTV. 
 RUTH'S JOURNAL 222 
 
 CHAPTER XV. 
 RUTH'S PERPLEXITIES 231 
 
 CHAPTER XVI. 
 THE DECISION OF JOHN AND RUTH 949
 
 CONTENTS. 5 
 
 CHAPTER XVII. 
 
 PAGB 
 
 PRBPARINO FOR A RETURN HOME 366 
 
 CHAPTER XVIII. 
 THE PURITAN RECEPTION OF JOHN AND RUTH 274 
 
 CHAPTER XIX. 
 GOODMAN LOWE'S HOME 293 
 
 CHAPTER XX. 
 GRACE HATHORNE VISITS RUTH 305 
 
 CHAPTER XXI. 
 THE MIDNIGHT ARREST 320 
 
 CHAPTER XXII. 
 BAPTISM OF JOHN AND RUTH 337 
 
 CHAPTER XXIII. 
 JOHN AND RUTH CAST INTO PRISON 335 
 
 CHAPTER XXIV. 
 LITTLE GRACE'S RESOLUTION. 344 
 
 CHAPTER XXV. 
 PLAN FOR ESCAPE J5I
 
 6 CONTENTS. 
 
 CHAPTER XXVI. 
 CAST OUT FROM HOME . . . 
 
 CHAPTER XXVII. 
 THE PURITAN'S DEATHBED 372 
 
 CHAPTER XXVIH. 
 THE NEW FAMILY HOME AT PROVIDENCE 381
 
 MASTER HATHORNE'S FAMILY. 
 
 CHAPTER I. 
 
 THE FAMILY CIRCLE. 
 
 |HE dark November night had settled 
 down stormily over the town of 
 Boston, and the wind howled drearily 
 enough through the deserted streets, whirling 
 the snow-flakes hither and thither and heaping 
 up many a drift beneath the fences and walls. 
 Winter had set in with all the severity of 
 bleak New England, and the colonists had 
 been for the last month looking carefully to 
 \heir dwellings and the shelters for their cattle, 
 and laying in large stores of firewood. 
 
 The night was dreary out of doors, but the 
 little family-room of Ezekiel Hathorne's dwell- 
 ing was only made the more attractive by the
 
 6 MASTER HATHORNB'S FAMILY, 
 
 tempest without and the beating of the sleet 
 against the closed shutters. Even had the 
 room been without occupants, the cosy, com- 
 fortable furniture, the blazing wood-fire, the 
 tall candles burning upon the table, would 
 have assured the stranger a retreat full of 
 ease and security ; but with the father of the 
 family seated in his comfortable arm-chair by 
 the hearth, with the mother busily engaged 
 in knitting at the table, and with John and 
 Ruth and Grace and little Willie seated 
 around at different occupations and in the 
 unstudied attitudes of home, it was such a 
 picture of peace and comfort that one could 
 have wished for nothing more. 
 
 The dwelling of Master Hathorne was not 
 of the class usually found in the little towns 
 of the colony. It was finished with some 
 pretensions to the architectural style of the 
 period, built of substantial material, and, as 
 the house of a man of wealth, displayed traces 
 of care and skill in construction, though utter- 
 ly devoid of any attempt at exterior adorn- 
 ment. The timbers were covered with rough 
 boards, to which the changes of the weather
 
 MASTER HATHOKNE'S FAMILY. 9 
 
 had given a dark brown color. The upper 
 story of the house projected over the lower 
 one in front, shading the door and windows 
 of the ground floor, and the roof was deep 
 and overhanging, allowing spaces at the ends 
 of the house for windows above the second 
 story. Surrounded by a large garden and 
 orchard, and approached from the street by 
 means of a winding path of some length, the 
 dwelling had all the advantages of retirement 
 in the midst of the town. 
 
 The interior of the house was of a much 
 more finished and elegant appearance than 
 the exterior. The large hall extending from 
 the front to the back of the house, with a door 
 at each end, the one in front opening upon a 
 little paved court-yard, and that at the rear 
 upon an ample vegetable garden, from which 
 the kitchen was supplied was sprinkled with 
 a neat covering of white beach-sand. At the 
 foot of the broad staircase stood the tall clock 
 that had been brought with the family from 
 England, and two large oaken arm-chairs ex- 
 tended a hospitable invitation to rest to all who 
 came beneath the roof. Doors upon each side
 
 10 MASTER HATHORNE'S FAMILY. 
 
 of the hall opened into cheerful rooms, some 
 of which had walls covered with hangings 
 imported at considerable expense, and fur- 
 nished in a manner becoming the dwelling 
 of the wealthy and honored master. 
 
 Mr. Hathorne had left England on the 
 occasion of some political trouble that ren- 
 dered it expedient for him to seek the New 
 World a little less than thirty years after 
 the founding of Plymouth Colony, bringing 
 with him a capital large enough to establish 
 a prosperous business and to enable him to 
 greatly increase his wealth. He was a man 
 of note in the colony, having sufficient claims 
 to gentility to be styled master by his fellow- 
 townsmen, and of such uprightness of cha- 
 racter and manifest piety as to be looked upon 
 as a strong pillar of the church. Shrewd in 
 business, always keeping an eye open for the 
 main chance, scrupulously attentive to the 
 requirements of the church, and maintaining 
 in all cases a strict reserve toward his infe- 
 riors, while he was always affecting an affa- 
 ble, and at the same time a humble, demeanor 
 toward those in high places, he had succeed-
 
 MASTER HATHORNE'S FAMILY. II 
 
 ed in gaining the respect, if not the love, cf 
 all who knew him ; and had Master Ezekiel 
 Hathorne's place become empty by any mis- 
 hap, his loss would have been sorely felt by 
 the community. 
 
 Hannah, his wife, was of a somewhat 
 different nature. Hers was a disposition 
 eminently designed to attract the love as 
 well as the reverence of her companions. 
 Mild and humble, living wholly in the fear 
 of God, and displaying a true Christian 
 benignity toward all men whether of high 
 or low station, her influence over her house- 
 hold was unlimited. A noble example of 
 a true, pure-souled Christian mother, she 
 moulded the hearts of her children after her 
 own, and endowed them with every good gift 
 in the power of a mother to bestow. Her 
 two youngest children had been born in 
 America, while John and Ruth the former 
 a young man of twenty-eight years of age 
 and the latter a girl of nineteen had crossed 
 the ocean with her, bringing with them, 
 though so young, many refining remem- 
 brances of their happy home in England.
 
 12 MASTER HAT HORNETS FAMILY, 
 
 The family had been seated thus in their 
 cosy sitting-room for about an hour after the 
 evening meal, when the old house-servant, 
 Prudence, entered with a folded paper in her 
 hand. Ruth, the dark-haired, brown-eyed 
 girl, arose, and taking it from her, handed it to 
 her father. Prudence remarked that it had 
 been left at the door while the family were at 
 supper, and then withdrew to the kitchen. A 
 shadow of displeasure crept over Mr. Ha- 
 thorne's face as he cast his eye upon the con- 
 tents of the note. Ruth noticed the change 
 in his countenance, and with ill-concealed 
 impatience waited for him to speak, for she 
 had marked his quick, disturbed glance at 
 herself and John as soon as he had learned 
 the subject of the writing. 
 
 " Unpleasant news," he said as he slowly 
 folded up the paper and nervously pressed 
 the creases between his fingers. " Mr. 
 Wilson warns me to keep strict regard over 
 our young friend from Rhode Island. He 
 fears he has brought among us the taint of 
 heresy, and God forbid the church should 
 suffer from any one sheltered beneath my
 
 MASTER HATHORNE'S FAMILT. 13 
 
 roof. John, Ruth, you are more in his com- 
 pany than your mother or I. I shall depend 
 upon you to watch carefully for this sin." 
 
 " Paul Wallingford I" said John, looking 
 up quickly and laying aside the book he was 
 reading; "there is no thought farther from 
 his mind than the thought of heresy. As 
 for the doctrines of the Quakers, to which his 
 parents, as he has often told me, at one time 
 inclined, he could " 
 
 "It is not that which Mr. Wilson fears. 
 Unhappily, Quakerism has no longer the 
 vigorous enemies it once had. But there are 
 other forms of dissent as deeply sinful and 
 as carefully to be guarded against as that. 
 Paul Wallingford, though not of Baptist 
 parents, may yet espouse their doctrines him- 
 self, and I would object no more to harboring 
 a Quaker beneath my roof than to receiv- 
 ing as our family friend one of these other 
 heretics." 
 
 " I had not thought of the Baptists," John 
 answered, passing his hand across his brow. 
 " But I have no fears on that question. Paul 
 is too sensible a young man to be led away
 
 H MASTER HATHORNE'S FAMILY. 
 
 by the absurdities and the deep sinfulness of 
 their belief. It can never be." 
 
 "Then you have never heard him express 
 any dangerous opinions?" asked the father, 
 doubtingly. 
 
 " Never, sir, upon any occasion whatever.** 
 
 " Nor you, Ruth?" and he fixed his search- 
 ing glance upon his daughter's face. 
 
 " No, sir. We have spoken of the Baptists 
 as of the Quakers and Antinomians, but only 
 to call up their differences from the belief of 
 the church. Paul cherishes no such opinions, 
 I feel sure. 
 
 His daughter spoke with so much warmth 
 and assurance that her father was satisfied and 
 pursued his inquiries no farther, and for the 
 time the subject was dropped. 
 
 The person of whom they spoke, Paul 
 Wallingford, was a young man who had come 
 to Boston from Providence for the purpose of 
 completing his education by passing a year at 
 Harvard College, having already mastered the 
 course of study pursued by the lower classes 
 of that institution at his home. He brought 
 with him a letter of introduction to Master
 
 MASTER HATHORNE'S FAMILY. 15 
 
 Hathorne from Roger Williams, with whose 
 family his own was intimate, and he had thus 
 been a welcome and frequent visitor at the 
 Hathorne mansion since his arrival, now a 
 period of two months. 
 
 Wallingford was by nearly seven years 
 the junior of John Hathorne, of fine and com- 
 manding appearance, possessed of a tall and 
 well-shaped frame, of an ardent disposition, 
 and a large, generous heart. His dark, wavy 
 hair, brushed back from his forehead, revealed 
 an extraordinary breadth of brow ; his black, 
 piercing eye was beautiful to his friends, but 
 its glance was feared by those who had of- 
 fended him ; his naturally dark complexion 
 was still darker from exposure to the rays of 
 the New England sun, and his firm-set lips 
 and unshrinking mien displayed the straight- 
 forward determination of his character. A 
 strong friendship had sprung up between him 
 and John in the beginning of their acquaint- 
 ance, and no difference had ever occurred to 
 mar its continuance. As far as the studies 
 of the former would permit, they were con- 
 stantly together, sharing each other's pleasures
 
 1 6 MASTER HATHORNE'S FAMILT. 
 
 and aiding as far as possible in each other's 
 labors. 
 
 Let it not seem strange that Mr. Hathorne, 
 one of the strictest of the Puritans, should 
 have received Paul Wallingford as his guest 
 upon an introductory letter from that energetic 
 opponent of the Puritan Church, Roger Wil- 
 liams ! Previous to the departure of the latter 
 from England, and long before his political 
 and religious opinions had differed so widely 
 from established principles, the two had been 
 neighbors and close friends. During the 
 residence of Williams in Salem he had been 
 a neighbor of William Hathorne, a magistrate 
 of the colony, and a near relation of his for- 
 mer friend, Ezekiel, in England. While in 
 Salem he had repeatedly interchanged letters 
 with his old friend through the aid of his own 
 friends and those of Williams who made the 
 voyage between the two countries. Ezekiel 
 did not emigrate to New England till many 
 years after Roger Williams' banishment, when 
 not only his political opinions had changed, 
 but also when his religious dogmas had de- 
 clared him to be the bitter enemy of the Pur-
 
 MASTER HATHORNE'S FAMILY. 17 
 
 itan faith. All communication had long 
 since ceased between them, the breach of 
 friendship growing wider with the lapse of 
 years. But a few years after Hathorne's ar- 
 rival, he had been obliged to leave his home 
 and spend enough time in Providence to ar- 
 range some important business transactions. 
 
 The length of time he was obliged to pass 
 away from home induced him to take with 
 him on his journey his wife and daughter, an 
 undertaking of no small difficulty in those 
 days of dangerous wilderness travel. Upon 
 their arrival in Providence, their old friend, 
 with the noble-hearted generosity which he 
 exercised even toward his persecutors, had 
 hastened to greet them. By his kind words 
 and kinder actions he had allayed all unpleas- 
 antness of feeling, and had actually forced Mr. 
 Hathorne, anxious as he was for the welfare 
 and comfort of his wife and daughter, to ac- 
 cept the hospitality of his roof; and here, for 
 nearly ten months, the two families had lived 
 together in perfect amity, differing only in the 
 peculiar tenets held by Williams, and, for the 
 time at least, passing over every approach to 
 
 2 B
 
 1 8 'MASTER HATHORNE'S FAMILY. 
 
 disaffection. The stern Puritan could not find 
 it in his heart, even after his return to his home, 
 to allow for a moment the hatred of the enemy 
 of the church to destroy the remembrance of 
 the kindness and benefactions of his friend. 
 
 Our little family circle was not long un- 
 disturbed in its quiet, for a quick knock at 
 the door announced the arrival of him of 
 whom they had just been speaking. John 
 laid aside his book and hastened into the hall 
 to aid his friend in laying off his thick outer 
 cloak, while a cheerful bustle in the little 
 room plainly showed that their visitor was 
 no other than a welcome one. 
 
 Exchanging greetings with all in the formal 
 Puritan manners, though so far departing 
 from this as to stoop and kiss the little Willie, 
 who stood by his knee, Paul Wallingford took 
 the chair placed by the fire for him, and be- 
 came at once a glad contributor to the joys of 
 the evening. 
 
 It was a hard journey upon such a stormy 
 evening from the college to Boston. The 
 way must be traversed by a little-frequented 
 road to the river-side, and there the dashing
 
 MASTER HATHORNB'S FAMILY. 19 
 
 waves must be crossed in a small boat, blown 
 hither and thither by the force of the tempest. 
 The fact of Paul's presence among them upon 
 such a night would have been enough to prove 
 the young man's need of the enjoyments of a 
 home. 
 
 "We had a hard time on the river to- 
 night," he said. " I almost regretted at one 
 time that I set out in such a storm, but then 
 the recollection of the warm place here by 
 your fireside for me and the cheerful faces to 
 greet me strengthened my arm and gave me 
 courage. I had to take an oar myself, for 
 old James, the one who always rows me over, 
 was so exhausted with pulling against the 
 wind that he was glad enough to accept my 
 offer of help." 
 
 "The offer would have been made had 
 the water been as smooth as glass," said John, 
 smiling. "You know you always help the 
 old man when you cross ; and as I am so well 
 aware of your habit, you need not try to hide 
 your kind deeds." 
 
 "We know you, sir!" cried little Grace* 
 merrily; "when you say, 'This time the
 
 20 MASTER HATHORNE'S FAMILY. 
 
 waves were so high,' we think every time, 
 rough or smooth ;" and the little girl shook 
 her head in grave negation at Paul's modest 
 way of speaking. 
 
 "But merely to take an oar, when " 
 ventured Paul. 
 
 " Merely to take an oar, when it would be 
 easier to sit still and let an old man do all the 
 work, is not to be covered up so easily," cried 
 Grace again. " I wish I had so many good 
 qualities that I could afford to hide any of 
 them." 
 
 Thus spoke "little Grace," as her sister 
 and John familiarly called her, a child of 
 fourteen years, the light of the household, in 
 whom Ruth often said to "the others no fault 
 was to be found. When the elder sister said 
 this of their pet, the mother would smile grate- 
 fully, but the father shook his head doubting- 
 ly. Sometimes he would speak and say : 
 " The heart is deceitful above all things." 
 
 So passed the evening pleasantly away 
 till the hour for retirement came. Then Ruth 
 took the family Bible from its table and laid 
 it before her father. The domestics were
 
 MASTER HATHORNE'S FAMILT. 21 
 
 summoned from the kitchen, and when all 
 were assembled in respectful silence, the 
 father of the family began the exercises of 
 evening worship. 
 
 Mr. Hathorne had chosen for this evening 
 a part of the fourth chapter of Ephesians. 
 With particular emphasis he read: "There 
 is one body, and one spirit, even as ye are 
 called in one hope of your calling; one Lord, 
 one faith, one baptism, one God and Father 
 of all, who is above all, and through all, and 
 in you all. But unto every one of us is given 
 grace according to the measure of the gift of 
 Christ. . . . And he gave some apostles ; 
 and some prophets ; and some evangelists ; 
 and some pastors and teachers ; . . . that 
 we henceforth be no more children, tossed to 
 and fro, and carried about with every wind of 
 doctrine by the sleight of men, and cunning 
 craftiness, whereby they lie in wait to de- 
 ceive." 
 
 The prayer followed, and the solemn voice 
 of the good man prayed that the Giver of all 
 good things would send down upon them the 
 blessing of peace ; that they might be kept
 
 22 MASTER HATHORNE'S FAMILY. 
 
 from the evil of the world ; from the taint of 
 the heresies that sought the destruction of 
 God's church ; from all the sleight and cun- 
 ning craftiness of men. 
 
 Then a psalm was sung, the clear voice of 
 Ruth leading the others in beautiful, soul-stir- 
 ring melody. The " good-nights" were said, 
 the light of the candles flickered along the 
 dark walls of the hall, the uncarpeted stairs 
 echoed to the tread of retiring footsteps, and 
 darkness and silence brooded over the dwell- 
 ing. 
 
 O ye blessed angels who watch over the 
 abodes of men, must schism and discord mar 
 the peace of this happy home, dividing the 
 ties between parent and child, between hus- 
 band and wife? 
 
 Ay I if the ofttimes bitter drop of truth, dis- 
 tilled from the alembic of the soul, be pre- 
 sented to the thirsting lips of the child of 
 God. Ay I schism and discord, sorrow and 
 even death, if for conscience* sake.
 
 CHAPTER II. 
 
 RUTH HATHORNE. 
 
 JEAUTY is spiritual ; the most perfect 
 features are unmeaning until irradiated 
 by the light of the soul." 
 Ruth Hathorne was a beautiful woman, be- 
 cause her whole being was flooded with this 
 inner light, beaming forth in the perfect 
 brightness of truth and holiness. Yet her 
 beauty was not such as would readily attract 
 the notice of a casual observer. Her dark 
 eyes were shaded by long and heavy lashes ; 
 her cheeks were pale, needing the impulse of 
 excitement to bring the rose flush to them; 
 her small mouth, with lips bowed like the 
 little archer's weapon, disclosed pearl-white 
 teeth ; but, withal, she was not what one 
 would call handsome. It was to those who 
 knew her that she was beautiful, supremely 
 
 23
 
 H MASTER HATHORNE'S FAMILY. 
 
 lovely. Her face needed study, as her soul 
 invited careful reading. Then few blemishes 
 could be found in either. 
 
 Her " little Grace," too, was beautiful, 
 though her beauty was of a different cast 
 from her own. Grace had her mother's com- 
 plexion and features ; Ruth resembled her 
 father more closely. Light, almost golden, 
 hair shed a beautiful radiance upon the 
 younger sister's countenance ; and light blue, 
 dancing eyes and a perpetually smiling mouth 
 gave her an appearance of vivacity and even 
 sportiveness seldom seen in the children of 
 the staid Puritans. Indeed the joyousness of 
 her disposition was continually boiling over 
 and eliciting rebuke from Mr. Hathorne for 
 her unbecoming levity. 
 
 The two sisters, though very different in 
 temperament, were ardently attached to each 
 other, seeking in each other's society, in the 
 quiet of their own home, almost all the pleas- 
 ures they enjoyed. Ruth would often tell her 
 sister of their old home in England ; and 
 Grace would listen for hours, as they worked 
 together, to these beautiful tales of a land she
 
 MASTER HATHORNE'S FAMILT. 25 
 
 had seen only in her sleeping arid waking 
 dreams of the bright gardens and pleasant 
 green lawns that stretched away in front of 
 the houses in plains as smooth and soft as 
 velvet ; of the flowing rivers and picturesque 
 hills and dales ; of the forests, unlike the wild 
 and dreadful woods of America, where fierce 
 beasts and hostile Indians ranged beneath the 
 deep shadows, but more open and free from 
 tangled underbrush, and where, sometimes, 
 the king would have great hunts after the 
 timid deer and the wild boar ; and then of the 
 great cities, hundreds of times larger than 
 their Boston, packed with houses and filled 
 with bustle and confusion, where timid 
 maidens like themselves could easily be lost 
 in the maze of streets and throngs of people 
 hurrying to and fro. 
 
 Grace was never tired of hearing of her 
 sister's early home, and her blue eyes would 
 become serious and open wide with wonder ; 
 her work would lie neglected in her lap ; 
 and all her attention be wrapped up in the 
 scenes pictured out to her imagination by the 
 glowing descriptions of Ruth. The fair nar-
 
 26 MASTER HATHORNE'S FA MILT. 
 
 rator herself was as glad to talk of the old, 
 familiar scenes as was her listener to attend, 
 for with her old home only the pleasantest 
 memories of childhood were connected, and 
 it was only a delightful task to recall again 
 and again the happy hours that had passed 
 away for ever ; for Ruth sometimes remember- 
 ed with sadness that she was now a woman, 
 or if not quite one in years, yet wholly mature 
 in experience. The cares and labors that 
 devolved upon the younger members o'f a 
 New England household were by no means 
 so light as to leave no trace upon the cha- 
 racter ; and those who had but a few months 
 before been mere children suddenly became 
 men and women, taking their full part in all 
 the active concerns of life. 
 
 These emergencies of the daily life of New 
 England had served to render Ruth not only 
 more mature in character and experience than 
 in years, but to make her already susceptible 
 nature more keenly alive to the signification 
 of every incident that occurred in the course 
 of events both at home and abroad ; of these 
 she was a careful observer, and many a lesson
 
 MASTER HATHORNE'S FAMILY. 27 
 
 of deep importance had been gleaned by her 
 ever watchful mind. 
 
 It was about two years before the time of 
 the opening of our story that Ruth had been 
 deeply impressed by the circumstances that 
 then transpired in connection with the Qua- 
 kers. The dreadful proclamations of punish- 
 ment by scourging, banishment, and death, 
 sometimes made beneath the very windows 
 of her home, had shocked her pure soul, and 
 led her to think deeply of the interests for 
 which this persecuted sect were striving and 
 suffering. She knew little of their doctrines, 
 but the very fact of their being ready to 
 endure distress and all manner of disgrace 
 in the championship of what they believed to 
 be religious truth was an invincible argument 
 with her in their favor. 
 
 A few months before the execution of Mary 
 Dyer, Mr. Hathorne had one day taken his 
 family to Roxbury to be present at a large 
 gathering of Indians and colonists to hear 
 the pious Eliot preach. After the services 
 were concluded, Mr. Hathorne had to remain 
 :i while to complete some arrangements for a
 
 28 MASTER HATHORNE'S FAMILT. 
 
 second meeting with the missionary, Eliot, 
 and the church elders. John and Ruth in 
 the mean time strayed away into the woods, 
 searching for wild flowers with which to 
 adorn their table at home. Unconsciously 
 they wandered farther away than they at first 
 intended, and their steps were only arrested 
 by the sudden opening of the woods, where 
 a little clearing presented itself. In this was 
 an assemblage of people much fewer in 
 number than those they had left, engaged 
 in the same occupation that had held them- 
 selves during the afternoon. A few moments 
 sufficed to show them that a body of Quakers 
 were holding their meeting in the secluded 
 spot, one of them at that moment speaking to 
 them from a mossy stone that raised him a 
 few feet from the ground. 
 
 John was for immediately returning to their 
 party, but Ruth begged him so earnestly to 
 remain, if but for a moment, to hear the words 
 that fell from the lips of the preacher, that he 
 reluctantly consented, and leaving the covei 
 of the forest, they joined the listening band. 
 
 The speaker was a young man, singularly
 
 MASTER PIATHORNE'S FAMILY. 29 
 
 earnest in his manner, engaging and holding 
 the attention of every one of his audience. 
 His sermon for sermon it was was near its 
 completion, and he was now closing with 
 solemn words concerning their dangers and 
 duties, the mistakes of the past and the plans 
 he warned them to follow that a better future 
 might be ensured to them. After the first few 
 words that fell upon her ear, Ruth listened 
 with breathless attention, fearing to lose a 
 syllable, a gesture, a breath. These were 
 new ideas to her. It was a new doctrine, 
 this belief that God had placed an inward 
 light in the soul a light whose illumination 
 might some time be greater even than that of 
 the Scripture. She knew not at first whether 
 to fear or admire this dogma, but the earnest, 
 eloquent words of the young speaker, infect- 
 ing each one of his hearers with his own in- 
 tense enthusiasm, led her to mistrust her own 
 fears, and to hope that there could not be so 
 deadly a poison in it, since one so wise and 
 noble, so near the moral stature of a perfect 
 man, as this zealous advocate seemed to be, 
 could receive it as his rule of life. 
 
 3*
 
 3 MASTER HATHORNE'S FAM1LT. 
 
 She was glad, too, that he warned them of 
 the consequences of the mistaken zeal that led 
 them to such unseemly acts as those which 
 had been their shame in the past. He con- 
 jured them to forsake this folly the wearing 
 of sackcloth, the sprinkling of ashes on the 
 disheveled hair, the insults offered to the 
 ministers of the church while in the discharge 
 of their public duties. He reminded them 
 with burning words that their thirst for 
 martyrdom, if not unholy, was at feast a 
 curse to their cause ; that it was not the sacri- 
 fice, torn and bleeding, which was most ac- 
 ceptable to God, but the gift of a broken and 
 penitent heart worshiping in the secrecy of 
 the closet, not seeking to display its piety to 
 the public gaze ; and that the manifest truth 
 and sublimity of their great doctrine, the re- 
 vealed light of the soul, should be thought 
 sufficient to win the belief of strangers to 
 their own form of religion, without the aid of 
 virulent attacks upon all those of another 
 faith and disgraceful suffering upon their 
 own part. 
 
 Then a silence fell on all the assembly, and
 
 MASTER HATHORNE'S FAMILT. 31 
 
 the rustling of the leaves, the babbling of the 
 brook, and the sweet songs of the birds that 
 fluttered over their heads, as if waiting to 
 bear away to the highest heaven the words 
 of the prayer that should follow, were the 
 only sounds that broke the otherwise perfect 
 stillness. 
 
 Then the calm, solemn voice that had 
 ceased exhorting arose in reverent petition 
 and thanksgiving to the most high God. 
 There was not a soul of those that listened 
 that was not in the presence of the Infinite. 
 Slowly the tears began to flow from Ruth's 
 uplifted eyes ; with fervid earnestness her 
 clasped hands quivered in her lap. She 
 thought not who was leading up her soul to 
 such a dazzling height ; whether Puritan or 
 Quaker, it did not trouble her ; she was gaz- 
 ing on the face of God, she was clinging to 
 the outstretched hand of Christ. 
 
 Even John trembled. The zealous young 
 Puritan, the leader of the youth of the church, 
 he to whom all the elder members looked as 
 the chief spirit of those who should one day 
 fill their places, trembled beneath the burning
 
 32 MASTER HATHORNE'S FAMILY. 
 
 eloquence of the praying soul. His proud 
 head remained sternly erect, but the half- 
 scornful smile that had rested upon his face 
 at the beginning of the prayer had faded 
 entirely away, and when with the closing 
 words silence again fell upon the assembly, 
 a low murmured "Amen" came almost un- 
 bidden to his lips. 
 
 It was quite late in the afternoon when 
 they turned away to retrace their steps to 
 the party they had left. Their absence had 
 created some uneasiness on the part of their 
 friends, who had delayed their departure on 
 their account, but the abundance of bright- 
 hued flowers which burdened their hands was 
 a sufficient excuse for their tardiness, and as 
 John had given ready assent to Ruth's re- 
 quest, nothing further was said as to the 
 manner in which they had spent their time. 
 
 The influence of this Quaker meeting had 
 been great in leading Ruth to think upon 
 their doctrines and the conflicting teachings 
 of her own church. The more she reflected 
 upon what she had heard that day, the more in- 
 clined was she to respect the spirit that prompt-
 
 MASTER HATHORNE'S FAMILT. 33 
 
 ed men to avow doctrines they knew would 
 bring them into disrepute, yet which they 
 could not reject without violation of the sacred 
 law declared to them by conscience "The 
 voice of God revealed in the heart of man." 
 What was this light that seemed breaking in 
 upon her soul? She could not tell. She did 
 not dare to admit to herself for a moment that 
 the heresy of the Quakers was making the 
 conquest of her heart, but she was conscious 
 of a change in herself, of a calmer, nobler 
 trust in God, in Christ, the Son of God and 
 the Son of man, than she had ever known 
 before. Yet there was one thing that troubled 
 her : if it was the voice of God that spake in 
 the hearts of the Quakers, if it was a divine 
 light that illuminated their souls so brightly 
 that its radiance was sufficient for their journey 
 through life, why were they led to such ex- 
 tremes of fanaticism as those which their 
 youthful adviser had warned them to avoid? 
 Why were they not all like him to whose 
 eloquent words her heart had throbbed in 
 joyful response? As time went on, each 
 day only brought new tidings of the violence
 
 34 MASTER HATHORNE'S FAMILT. 
 
 and almost insufferable insolence of the most 
 notorious of the sect, and as a natural result 
 her modest soul shrunk appalled from such 
 an excess of spiritual zeal, from such a turbu- 
 lence of unrestrained feeling. Then came the 
 crisis. Persons had suffered public punish- 
 ment before scourging, mutilation, banish- 
 ment, death but now an aged woman was to 
 ascend the scaffold. Ruth herself had seen 
 the trouble occasioned by this turbulent spirit 
 at one time, when the services in church had 
 been interrupted by the entrance of two 
 women Mary Dyer following them and en- 
 couraging them by her presence who had 
 desecrated the house of God, applying all 
 manner of opprobrious language to the head 
 of the Boston church, the aged and pious 
 Wilson, and stopping the progress of the 
 service. She had gazed with wonder upon 
 the gray head that could so disgrace itself, 
 so dishonor the religion of the true and living 
 God, as to be a participant in such a scene, 
 and she ceased to wonder at the severity of 
 the judges who were called upon to punish 
 these evil-doers. She was shocked that they
 
 MASTER HATHORNE^S FAMILT. 35 
 
 should be made to suffer death ; better submit 
 to their mad folly and wait for time to erad- 
 icate the evil ; but every feeling, every instinct 
 of her nature forbade the slightest sympathy 
 for their shameless excesses ; and now that 
 even the gray hairs of age were polluted 
 with the mire of fanaticism, she began to 
 distrust the faith of such spirits, that faith 
 which she had almost begun to reverence 
 and cherish in the days that had now for 
 ever gone by. 
 
 Ruth awakened from her dream. " The 
 inward light" she saw was not enough. The 
 light of God's revealed word, the Holy 
 Scriptures, was not to be shaded, and even 
 put out, by the light of the soul. Both might 
 be combined and throw united lustre upon the 
 pathway of life, but alone, the light in the 
 soul was insufficient, for it was too often 
 shaded by error, too often counterfeited by 
 false lights that would lead far astray. 
 
 Yet her experience had been of much use 
 to her. She had seen good things lying be- 
 yond the pale of the church of which she was 
 a member, and had been candid enough to
 
 36 MASTER HATHORNE'S FAMILY. 
 
 confess that the good, wherever found, was 
 not to be despised. 
 
 Ruth had never mentioned to any one the 
 partial conflict that had been going on in her 
 mind, excited by the heretical principles of 
 the despised and persecuted Quakers. John, 
 who had been present with her at the meeting 
 in the wood, had more than suspected the in- 
 fluence of what they had there seen and heard 
 upon his sister's susceptible nature, but since 
 that day he had never spoken to her upon the 
 subject, perhaps fearing that any words from 
 him, by indicating to her that he too was 
 pondering the question, would encourage her 
 to pursue to the end the thoughts that were 
 agitating her mind. It would have been vain 
 for Ruth to expect sympathy from him, or in- 
 deed from any member of the family. She 
 knew the bitterness with which Mr. Hathorne 
 regarded those who held the proscribed doc- 
 trines, and that she could not have aimed a 
 severer blow at her beloved father's happiness 
 than to bring it to his knowledge that one 
 of his children, and that one the elder 
 daughter, whose love had occupied for many
 
 MASTER HATHORNE'S FAMILT. 37 
 
 years the warmest place in his heart, had al- 
 lowed herself to entertain any faith in those 
 doctrines, thus making herself an enemy of 
 the church and therefore his enemy. Even 
 had she become thoroughly imbued with the 
 principles which had forced themselves upon 
 her consideration, she would have concealed 
 with care from her father the knowledge of 
 the change in her faith, for her filial love 
 would have demanded any sacrifice of her by 
 which she could shield her father from pain. 
 It would have been with no less cost had she 
 made her mother the confidante of her thoughts. 
 Between few mothers and their children did 
 there exist closer ties of affection than between 
 Mrs. Hathorne and her daughters, yet there 
 were insuperable difficulties in the way of 
 perfect sympathy between them upon a sub- 
 ject like this. Among the women of the 
 church Mrs. Hathorne was what her husband 
 was among the men. Holding a position of 
 high influence, and using this influence in 
 every way for the advancement of the church 
 and its members, she held a place in the hearts 
 of a large portion of the people which few
 
 38 MASTER HATHOKNE'S FAMILT. 
 
 could ever hope to reach. The abundance of 
 her temporal means gave her the power of 
 contributing to the supply of the wants of the 
 poorer class, many of whom were in actual 
 need in the rigor of their New England home. 
 By such persons she was regarded almost in 
 the light of a patron saint, to whom they need 
 only look and straightway their wants, both 
 of a temporal and spiritual nature, would be 
 satisfied ; for the good woman never reached 
 forth her hand to give without the attendance 
 upon her bounty of many a good word of 
 hope and cheer. Thus it will be seen her 
 position in the church was of an important 
 character, and of its doctrines she was as 
 stout a defender among her own sex as was 
 her husband in his own. Besides this, be- 
 tween husband and wife there existed the 
 closest intimacy of thought and feeling* It 
 would have been treason to the mind of the 
 good wife, burdened with such a secret as 
 this of her daughter's, to conceal it from 
 her husband's knowledge. As Ruth rightly 
 judged, it would have been worse than vain 
 to have confided in her mother, for it wpuld
 
 MASTER HATHORNE'S FAMILY. 39 
 
 not only have given her the greatest pain, but 
 in the end the sorrow would be fully shared 
 in by her father. Moreover, Ruth had a brave 
 heart. She was not afraid to encounter the 
 difficulties of her situation alone, believing 
 that the Omniscient would give her his aid to 
 bring her to the right end at last. 
 
 We have seen how the conflict in her mind 
 had been decided. For the time she had com- 
 promised. That there was truth outside of 
 her own church she was aware, and that it 
 was for that truth she thirsted she had not an 
 instant's doubt. She had weighed the strange 
 doctrine of the persecuted Quakers in the 
 balance and had found it wanting ; yet in it 
 she had discovered, she thought, a part of 
 that pure soul-truth whose absence she so 
 sadly felt. Where should she find the glori- 
 ous whole?
 
 CHAPTER III. 
 
 PAUL WALLINGFORD S VIEWS. 
 
 |T was a beautiful sight the next morn- 
 ing, when the little household awoke 
 and gazed abroad on the outer world. 
 All night the snow had fallen ; all night the 
 gusty wind had blown ; and now the grea f 
 drifts were piled against houses and fences, 
 trees and bushes, in a rich confusion of swell- 
 ing and glittering white. The tall trees were 
 covered over with a shining bridal garment. 
 Every branch and twig had its tender drapery 
 fastened around it, glistening as if covered 
 with myriads of diamonds that flashed in the 
 rays of the newly-risen sun. 
 
 The fall of snow had been a very heavy 
 one, and it lay in such depth in the streets 
 that all passing was effectually prevented. 
 
 40
 
 MASTER HATHORNE'S FAMILY. 41 
 
 Against the doors and lower windows of the 
 dwellings great banks were piled, and it 
 would require the labor of lusty arms to 
 break away the barriers and force communi- 
 cation with the streets and neighboring houses. 
 But they had not yet had all of the storm. 
 The rising sun had but unveiled his head to 
 look for an hour upon the little town, when 
 again the clouds closed up the rent, and the 
 white flakes, as if not satisfied with the work 
 they had already done, hurriedly chased each 
 other earthward through the murky air. The 
 sturdy colonists gave up the hope of outspeed- 
 ing the elements in their labors, and sat down 
 composedly within their homes, surrounded 
 by their families, to enjoy as best they might 
 the repose thus forced upon them. 
 
 Of course there was no such thing possible 
 as Paul Wallingford's return to the college 
 that day, and indeed, as it was Saturday and 
 there was very little need of his doing so, the 
 young man was not particularly sorry for the 
 circumstances that laid this obligation upon 
 him, and was disposed to look upon the storm 
 as befriending him in the most signal manner. 
 
 4 *
 
 42 MASTER HATHORNE'S FAMILT. 
 
 John was only too glad to have the company 
 of his friend during the long day in-doors, and 
 found it very agreeable to pass the slow-going 
 hours in the quiet occupations of reading and 
 conversation. It was a novel thing for the 
 young merchant for John was in his father's 
 business to have a day for quiet pursuits at 
 home, and he was glad enough to embrace 
 this opportunity of pursuing his study of a 
 work in which he had become deeply inter 
 ested, the letter of Mr. John Cotton to Roger 
 Williams and the latter's examination and an- 
 swer, copies of which he had lately received 
 from England. The two young men, there- 
 fore, passed the stormy day in the perusal of 
 their books and in animated discussion of the 
 topics thus presented to their minds. 
 
 It was a busy day for Ruth and her mother. 
 It was Saturday, and the preparations for the 
 morrow were all to be completed before the 
 going down of the sun. All the morning, 
 therefore, Ruth was busy in the kitchen and 
 chambers, and only an hour or two before the 
 close of the day found time to become one of 
 the littie circle in the front room of the house.
 
 MASTER HATHORNE'S FAMILY. 43 
 
 When she entered the room she found her 
 brother and Paul engaged in the considera- 
 tion of a question suggested by the reading 
 of the former and bearing immediately on the 
 painful events of the time. The subject was 
 no new one, even to Ruth, for it had been 
 discussed at length for years both in the Old 
 and New Worlds. Many treatises had been 
 written upon it, of which those that had last 
 appeared the works of Williams and Cotton 
 upon what the former had styled "The Bloody 
 Tenet" had created no little stir upon both 
 sides of the water. 
 
 Ruth drew her chair to the side of her 
 father's before the fire, and while she applied 
 herself to her work soon became interested in 
 the conversation. Mr. Hathorne took no part 
 in the discussion, seeming to be busily em- 
 ployed over some mercantile papers that lay 
 in his lap and in a large bundle upon the 
 floor by his side ; but Ruth noticed that once 
 or twice he moved uneasily in his chair and 
 looked up quickly at the speaker, when Paul 
 gave expression to some opinion of unusual 
 boldness.
 
 44 MASTER HATHORNE'S FAMILY. 
 
 For Paul, as might be expected of a young 
 man who had been reared in the respect for 
 civil and religious toleration which obtained 
 in the Providence Plantations, argued the 
 right of man to think as he pleased, inde- 
 pendently of magistrate or churchman ; and 
 as he spoke upon a subject of so much in- 
 terest to himself his eye brightened, his cheek 
 flushed, and forgetting the dictates of mere 
 prudence, he hurried on with all the incon- 
 siderate warmth of youth to the conviction of 
 his opponent, none the less eager than he. 
 
 I shall not attempt to follow their argument 
 through. Suffice it to say that it was a good 
 close to their studies of the day. The young 
 men were seated upon opposite sides of the 
 fireplace, and its flickering light fell upon 
 their earnest faces, bringing out each trace 
 of youthful vigor and manly beauty in fair 
 proportion. John's calm blue eyes seemed 
 ever watchful for some new turn of his nimble 
 adversary, and he spoke in measured tones, 
 weighing each word carefully and duly esti- 
 mating its value in the debate. Paul, on the 
 contrary, was quick and impulsive. His eye,
 
 MASTER HATHORNE'S FAMILY. 45 
 
 seeming to dart forth conviction from its black 
 depths, was itself an enemy hard to encounter. 
 His attacks were from a well-fortified position, 
 and his defences so ably sustained that his op- 
 ponent more than once began to grow uneasy 
 for the success of his cause. 
 
 Ruth became intensely interested. Uncon- 
 sciously, the young men were debating a point 
 over which, led by her thoughts upon the suf- 
 ferings of that sect whose doctrine had made 
 such an impression on her mind, she had 
 pondered in perplexity, but had at last ar- 
 rived at a firmly-fixed conclusion. Would 
 this conclusion stand the test of this debate? 
 She waited the result with almost feverish 
 anxiety. More than once did her lips part as 
 if about to suggest some new thought in aid 
 of her champion, but it would have ill become 
 the modesty of the Puritan maiden to allow 
 her voice to be heard in the strife between the 
 young men. Ruth would have been startled 
 had she heard the sound of her own voice 
 pleading with Paul Wallingford, and even her 
 own eagerness called up a faint flush to her 
 cheek. She was not bold, she was not over
 
 46 MASTER HATHORNE'S FAMILT. 
 
 desirous of partaking in pursuits unseemly in 
 her sex, but her soul was stirred, and burned 
 with a longing for truth that would be satis- 
 fied. 
 
 But Paul Wallingford needed no assistance. 
 He was standing upon firm ground ground 
 that he knew perfectly well so his confidence 
 in his position was unshaken by' any attack 
 of his adversary. Gradually his warmth in- 
 creased, and his enthusiasm began to bear 
 him steadily onward to victory. He saw the 
 end coming ; his eyes already flashed triumph- 
 antly as he saw the spoils of the conqueror 
 lying before him. 
 
 " Ah, John," he cried springing to his feet, 
 throwing back the wavy hair from his broad, 
 bold brow, ' ' you have your antiquity to boast 
 of, your experience in governments of centu- 
 ries* duration ; you have your great minds of 
 the past minds so great that they feared a 
 fall from such a height, stumbling over this 
 little block of offence ; you can name with 
 pride the labors of your Cottons ; but I thank 
 God, none of these are my defence ! I have 
 no higher argument than this : I point you
 
 MASTER HATHORNE'S FAMILY. 47 
 
 only to that grand, sublime man, Roger 
 Williams ; I bid you look at his disinterested 
 labors, his dreadful sufferings both of the 
 body and spirit, his utter fearlessness in his 
 championship of the right ; and, last of all, I 
 charge you to regard his glorious success, 
 Who shall dare to say that the hitherto 
 despised Providence Plantations have not 
 more than held their own among the colonies 
 of America? You say you send to us the 
 flagitious spirits you cannot brook within 
 your own bounds. You say our Providence 
 is your great prison, your place of punish- 
 ment for your malefactors. Send them to 
 us. We thank you for them. Your male- 
 factors are those who cannot stand upon 
 your soil and call themselves free men ; they 
 feel the yoke of your narrow prejudices and 
 the binding weariness of your conscience 
 fetters, and when they dare to raise the voice 
 in expostulation, when they would ease the 
 chafing of their bonds by declaring their 
 manhood and their manhood's faith, you 
 scourge them, malefactors indeed, and cast 
 them out to us. Now see these men, for
 
 MASTER HATHORNE'S FAMILT. 
 
 they are men with us. No brawls of religious 
 factions threaten the life of our little state, 
 Her simple covenant, subscribed by your 
 malefactors, remains intact ; and though civil 
 strife may come, for we know not what God 
 hath in store for us ; though our government 
 may be disturbed and rent, as others have 
 been before, the one grand principle that 
 stands at the foundation of all will still re- 
 main unmoved. That truth, shining like 
 the star of old when the angels sang their 
 hymns of joy at the incarnation of Divine 
 Love, proclaims to-day, and will proclaim 
 as long as time shall last, the same benedic- 
 tion : ' Glory to God in the highest, and on 
 earth peace, good will toward men.'" 
 
 As if his soul were raised above the earth 
 upon the eagle wing of his faith, his eye 
 gazing fixedly at the dull gray sky as see- 
 ing in prophetic vision the verification of his 
 words in these latter days, he stood before 
 them for a moment unconscious, unmoved. 
 In that instant the storm-clouds parted, the 
 setting sun, as at his rising, shone again, and 
 a flood of golden light poured into the little
 
 MASTER HATHORNE'S FAMILY. 49 
 
 room and wrapped about the young man's 
 form a mantle of glory. It was as if the 
 approval of heaven were manifested, as when 
 the " glory of the Lord shone round about." 
 
 Ruth heard and drank in all. The argu- 
 ment was done ; the others passed to the 
 windows to admire the brilliant spectacle dis- 
 played upon the face of nature, but she sat 
 still, not yet aroused from her contemplation 
 of that divine truth that had been the theme 
 of what she had heard. Paul was no longer 
 before her ; he had gone with the others and 
 was pointing out to Willie, who sat upon his 
 knee, the wonderful caps of snow on every 
 post and rail ; but unconsciously her eyes 
 rested still upon his face, as his eloquent 
 words still remained impressed upon her 
 mind. Her mother's voice called her from 
 the hall. As she rose to obey the summons, 
 she met her father's glance fixed upon her 
 face. Why was it that instantly the long 
 lashes dropped over her eyes and the rose 
 hue sprang to her cheek? She could not 
 have told. 
 
 The Lord's Day dawned beautiful and clear. 
 6 D
 
 5" MASTER HATHORNE'S FAMILY. 
 
 The frosty air was filled with that peculiar, 
 life-giving freshness which a winter morning 
 among the hills of New England can alone 
 give to the atmosphere ; the white covering 
 of the earth shone brightly in the sun ; the 
 long icicles hung from the eaves of the dwell- 
 ings, forming a fairy fringe to the low, quaint 
 roofs ; and ever and anon great clouds of the 
 finest snow would whirl aloft far above the 
 roof-trees, borne upon the wings of the sea- 
 breeze, and spreading out into the most fra- 
 gile veils of gauze would settle noiselessly 
 down upon the still streets. 
 
 Long before the storm had spent its fury 
 men had been out, breaking a way through 
 the principal streets to the meeting-house, so 
 that when the time for the service arrived even 
 the frail forms of women, wrapped up warmly 
 in their cloaks and furs, braved the loose snow 
 and keen wind, and wended their way to the 
 sanctuary. 
 
 Mr. Hathorne's family were not missing 
 from their accustomed seat he himself, 
 sterner, graver, even than usual ; his wife 
 with her calm, devout face, eagerly expect-
 
 MASTER HATHORNE'S FAMILY. 51 
 
 ant of the spiritual refreshment to be afforded 
 her soul in the two short hours she should 
 pass in the temple of God ; and between them 
 their children, John beside his father;' Ruth 
 her beautiful countenance more lovely from 
 contrast with the hood of dark stuff which 
 she wore sitting just opposite upon her 
 mother's side of the aisle, with fair Grace 
 beside her and Willie next. The house was 
 a very plain one in which these sturdy Pu- 
 ritans worshiped God. It was a square 
 building, the roof rising to a point in the 
 centre, the rough beams which supported it 
 being left exposed to view. There was no 
 trace of an attempt at elegance or even come- 
 liness in the whole structure, save perhaps the 
 crimson curtain and cushion of the pulpit and 
 the canopy above the seat of the governor. 
 The pews were little more than rude benches 
 of common pine, without cushions, and the 
 floor was covered only with sand strewn in 
 the aisle. Not a trace of paint was to be 
 seen upon the whole structure within or with- 
 out, and the only coloring it had, a rich, deep 
 shade of brown, was imparted to it by the ac-
 
 5* MASTER HATHORNE'S FAMILT. 
 
 tion of the elements. Up9n the pulpit, with- 
 in reach of the hand of one of the elders, 
 whose seats were in front of the pulpit facing 
 the audience, stood an hour-glass, whose 
 shining sand was oftentimes allowed to empty 
 itself into the lower compartment more than 
 twice before the services were completed. 
 Rank and distinction were observed, more 
 than the division of the congregation into 
 families, in the assignment of the seats to the 
 audience, and the right side of the house was 
 reserved for the male sex, the left for the 
 gentler portion of the assembly. The chil- 
 dren were usually placed under the care of 
 persons appointed for the purpose in seats by 
 themselves, and every appearance of uneasi- 
 ness or irregularity was promptly rebuked by 
 these watchful guardians of the church peace. 
 If it be remembered that religion was the 
 one great end for which these Puritan pilgrims 
 had severed themselves from their European 
 homes ; that it was the only solace of their 
 lives, the chief pleasure and comfort of their 
 desert dwelling-place ; and that, therefore, 
 every one looked forward to the Lord's Day
 
 MASTER HATHORNB'S FAMILY. 53 
 
 as to the coming of a sacred feast of good 
 things, a better idea may be gained of the as- 
 semblage that came together weekly for the 
 worship of God. This rude wooden building 
 was filled to its utmost capacity. The gover- 
 nor was escorted hither by his halberdiers and 
 established beneath the canopy of state ; the 
 magistrates and those of the highest rank 
 came next in order ; then the rich and influ- 
 ential members of the church ; and farther 
 back from the pulpit and around the walls 
 were seated the poorer class and the servants. 
 The high and low, the rich and poor, the former 
 often dressed in costly robes of silk and velvet, 
 in lace ruffs and delicately wrought wide col- 
 lars, and the latter in their rude leathern gar- 
 ments, all flocked to the sanctuary eager for 
 the words of divine cheer they knew to be 
 awaiting them. 
 
 Mr. Hathorne's family was among the 
 wealthiest of the congregation, and he per- 
 haps the most influential of the laymen ; 
 therefore, his seat was in a conspicuous 
 position, where the pious occupant could find 
 
 no difficulty in hearing or seeing, and where 
 
 &*
 
 54 MASTER HATHORNE'S FAM1LT. 
 
 he could as easily be seen by all as an ex- 
 
 * 
 
 ample of godliness worthy of the utmost 
 veneration. 
 
 Upon this particular occasion there was 
 to be a baptism of children after the close of 
 the sermon. The aged Wilson preached 
 appropriately, taking for his text the familiar 
 passage in which the loving Lord blesseth 
 little children and declareth to men the king- 
 dom which awaits them. 
 
 Slowly the old man spoke, with tones of 
 loving reverence describing the deep signifi- 
 cance of Christ's act. Eagerly the hearers 
 listened to his words, which were fraught with 
 argument to satisfy the minds of the deeply 
 learned, and yet were simple and plain enough 
 to rivet the attention of young children. It 
 was the friend of all who was speaking, and 
 the affection existing between him and each 
 member of his charge rendered his words of 
 greater effect and more exalted beauty. His 
 arguments were elaborate and his conclusions 
 apparently justly drawn, and the firm -set lips 
 of the stern Puritan fathers were pressed closer 
 together as their convictions were thus ably de-
 
 MASTER HATHORNE'S FAMILY. 55 
 
 fended, and new vigor was given to the roots 
 of the faith spreading throughout the fertile 
 soil of their hearts. Mr. Wilson did not suffer 
 the occasion to pass without a violent attack 
 upon the opponents of the doctrines of the 
 church, particularly of the one which was 
 the subject of the morning's discourse. It 
 would have been a dark blot upon the pious 
 teacher's conscience had he neglected so 
 important a duty in those degenerate days, 
 when he had marked with pain the indica- 
 tions of heresy upon this point becoming more 
 frequent every day. As he had entered the 
 church that morning, he had noticed the 
 young man, of whom he had heard evil 
 tidings which he had communicated, as we 
 have seen, to Mr. Hathorne seated in a 
 humble position near the door. With com- 
 passion he looked upon Paul Wallingford 
 with compassion for his weakness, for his 
 inability to resist evil, for the error that he 
 feared was creeping into his heart to choke 
 with its tares the beautiful ripening wheat 
 of truth. He had inwardly repeated the 
 young man's name, while he had prayed
 
 56 MASTER HATHORNE'S FAMILY. 
 
 for divine mercy upon the youthful and head- 
 strong, that they who were going astray 
 might be recalled ; and now, as his solemn 
 voice thundered forth the violent denunciation 
 of the deadly sin of departure from holy 
 truth, his eye sought out the glance of the 
 attentive youth, and tried to read in it the 
 index of his soul. But Paul's steadfast look 
 was unmoved ; no consciousness of guilt had 
 an abiding-place in his heart, and fearlessly 
 he listened to the piercing words that were 
 meant to bring the rebel to submission. 
 
 The sermon ended and the benediction pro- 
 nounced, again the narrow streets were filled 
 with the congregation returning to their 
 homes. Mr. Hathorne made no remark 
 during the noon meal, but listened attentive- 
 ly to the conversation sustained between his 
 son and their guest, who as usual found many 
 a point suggested by the discourse upon which 
 to differ. At last, as the family were rising 
 from the table, Mr. Hathorne spoke. 
 
 "My son," he said, "our faith, praise God I 
 needs no better defence than that it has re- 
 ceived this morning. If there was one present
 
 MASTER HATHORNE'S FAMILT. 57 
 
 who was not prepared to acknowledge the 
 truth, his eyes must have been dazzled by the 
 bright light of argument exhibited by our be- 
 loved teacher. No such heresy as that which 
 denies the baptism of innocent babes babes 
 that the Saviour received could stand before 
 that blaze, but could only wither away." 
 
 Paul's keen eye flashed. He felt that Mr. 
 Hathorne was speaking to his son, but at 
 himself. His lips quivered and his voice 
 trembled as he answered with suppressed 
 emotion : 
 
 " ' Believe, and be baptized.' There was 
 one present, sir, who does not assent to your 
 doctrines, who was not terrified by the scorch- 
 ing words of your preacher. God bless those 
 who are in the right ! God bless even the 
 Baptist heretics, if their doctrines are his 1" 
 
 This was all, but it was enough. In one 
 instant Paul Wallingford had made himself 
 an enemy. From this hour he was to be 
 watched and shunned as a venomous serpent.
 
 CHAPTER IV. 
 
 THE WRECKED BOAT. 
 
 fjITH the going down of the sun the 
 sacred day of the Puritans ended. Paul 
 Wallingford must take his departure 
 for an absence of a week from the household 
 he so dearly loved, from his only home in the 
 Colony of the Bay. There were no hand- 
 shakings at parting that would have been 
 too demonstrative of affection for the Puritan 
 taste only a spoken ' ' good-bye " and a slight 
 bow, and friends might part for months, and 
 that, too, when no means of communication 
 could exist between them in the interval of 
 absence. 
 
 Paul hurried away over the brow of 
 Beacon Hill and down the western slope to 
 the river-side. It seemed likely that he would 
 have another hard passage, for during the 
 
 68
 
 MASTER HATHORNE'S FAMILT, 59 
 
 afternoon the wind had been steadily rising, 
 and it now blew in gusts, whipping the waves 
 of the broad Charles into foam. He sum- 
 moned the old ferry-man whom he always 
 employed in crossing, and who was expect- 
 ing his coming as usual after the setting of 
 the sun. 
 
 "A hard row we shall have of it," Paul 
 said, cheerily, greeting the old man. 
 
 "A clear night, but the wind is dead 
 ahead," answered the boatman as he took 
 his hat from his head and wound a dark 
 cloth about it, confining his hair. " We 
 shall have a long pull and a cold one." 
 
 Even as he spoke the water dripping from 
 his oars was freezing into tiny icicles, that 
 glistened in the light of the rising moon. His 
 boat, a large and heavy one, seemed able to 
 buffet any storm, but its very weight was an 
 impediment to progress when the sea was 
 rough, and it was more than one man's labor 
 to keep the boat from drifting before the wind. 
 To-night the old man did not dare to raise the 
 sail ; and indeed, had the gale not capsized 
 the craft, it would have rent the canvas into
 
 60 MASTER HATHORNE'S FAMILY. 
 
 shreds. Paul thought the old man seemed a 
 little loth to put off on such a night, but as 
 he was anxious to begin his studies again in 
 the morning, he took no notice of his reluct- 
 ance. If they could only get across, there 
 would be no danger in the old man's return- 
 ing alone, for he would need to do little else 
 than keep his boat before the wind in order 
 to reach his destination. 
 
 Old James received his passenger without 
 objection, however, and they commenced 
 their voyage. 
 
 " You'll find the old boat heavier than the 
 one you came in," said he to Paul as the 
 young man took an oar. "The small boat 
 wouldn't live a minute in this sea. Are you 
 ready, sir? Give way !" And slowly they 
 drew away from the shore, out upon the dark, 
 white-capped waters. 
 
 Not a cloud floated in the atmosphere to ob- 
 scure the light that fell upon the snow-covered 
 hills which bordered the stream. The full 
 moon and myriads of stars cast their cold 
 beams upon the colder earth below, illuminat- 
 ing its glittering garment with the sparkling
 
 MASTER HATHORNB'S FA MILT. 61 
 
 of a mine of jewels. In spite of the severe 
 labor that taxed every muscle to the utmost, 
 Paul could not help admiring the scene of 
 which he was the centre. Just astern of their 
 boat the slope of Beacon Hill, its foot and the 
 adjacent shore partially shaded as yet, rose 
 white and silent. On his right the shore 
 trended away to the southward, leaving a 
 wide sheet of water, whose snowy waves 
 were only bounded by the low neck of land 
 uniting Boston with the main land, and on 
 which the surf fell with an unbroken roar. 
 Beyond and behind him were the wood- 
 covered hills of Roxbury and the rich graz- 
 ing lands of Brookline, then called Muddy 
 River ; while a little farther to his left, and 
 still behind him, lay the slightly rising ground 
 of Cambridge, yet separated from him by a 
 weary waste of water and meadowy plain. 
 Upon his left the black waves were all that 
 met his sight, their tops now and then casting 
 their deep foam-fringe up into the moonlight, 
 as if striving to rival the white purity of the 
 surrounding shores, and then, after their glory 
 of a moment, sinking back again into their
 
 62 MASTER HATHORNE'S FAMILY. 
 
 black obscurity. Now and then, perhaps, a 
 faint light would twinkle out upon the dark-- 
 ness for an instant from the direction of far- 
 off Charlestown, but its gleaming was soon 
 swallowed up in the distance. 
 
 Harder and harder yet blew the wind as 
 they labored at the oars and advanced slowly 
 out into the midst of the stream. Tossed 
 hither and thither, sometimes exerting all their 
 powers merely to hold the position they had 
 gained and to keep their direction, sometimes, 
 in a momentary lull, creeping onward at a 
 snail's pace, only a few inches to a stroke, 
 their task became continually more discourag- 
 ing and hopeless. Visions of the bright fire- 
 side he had left began to creep in upon Paul's 
 mind. He saw the glowing logs piled high 
 and lighting up the happy group assembled 
 before them. He almost wished himself back 
 again in their midst conversing with John 
 and and gathering inspiration from the 
 dark eyes of an attentive listener, aiding him 
 in his argument more than she knew by her 
 presence and interest. Perhaps they were 
 speaking of him now. Perhaps as Mr.
 
 MASTER HATHORNE'S FAMILY. 63 
 
 Hathorne was condemning his bravely- 
 spoken principles, John, the staunch old 
 friend, was defending him, and Grace and 
 He could not help smiling as he caught him- 
 self so busy upon anything but the work of 
 the hour, though his wearied arms had never 
 flagged in their labor and his steady, un- 
 heeded strokes had been so vigorous as to 
 pull the old man round and considerably alter 
 their course. A word from his companion 
 recalled him to his work, and, ashamed of his 
 negligence, he resolved to dream no more. 
 But it was hard work ; his arms began to be 
 oh so weary, now that he thought of them. 
 "Surely," after a five minutes' silence and 
 straining work, "Mr. Hathorne and John " 
 
 "I haven't the strength I used to have," 
 panted old James, falling forward, almost ex- 
 hausted, upon his oar. " I cannot do it, sir ! 
 We must go back !" 
 
 They had rowed perhaps a mile. Paul 
 could not object to turning and retracing theii 
 course. He was only sorry to have fatigued 
 his companion so fruitlessly. It was well they 
 stopped as they did, for at the moment the
 
 64 MASTER HATHORNE'S FAMILY. 
 
 blast seemed to redouble its fury, and it was 
 evident to both that they could have made no 
 farther headway. 
 
 Paul bent to his oar ; a few vigorous strokes 
 would put them about, when all the rest would 
 be easy. 
 
 There came a quick, sharp crack. Old 
 James' heart sank within him. Paul's oar 
 had snapped in twain, and already the blade 
 was far behind them on the water. Quickly 
 as the tossing of the boat would allow, the 
 old man sprang to the stern and running his 
 oar into the water brought the boat before the 
 wind. There was nothing to be done now 
 but this. They might succeed in effecting a 
 landing at some spot where a sandy beach 
 would receive them without harm, but woe 
 betide them if their lot should be the rocks ! 
 Old James knew this. There were beaches 
 enough on the outer side of the peninsula ; 
 here he only knew of one or two, and these 
 so very small it would be a hopeless task to 
 direct the boat thither in the dark. 
 
 Paul had not spoken. As his companion 
 had passed to the stern, he had sprung to the
 
 Master Hathorne's Family. 
 
 Page 64.
 
 MASTER HATHORNE'S FAMILY. 65 
 
 bow, comprehending at once the danger, and 
 ready to perform his part in meeting it. 
 
 Thus in silence they sped onward through 
 the night, the old man standing upright in 
 the stern, wielding his oar with despairing 
 energy ; the young man kneeling in the bow, 
 straining his gaze to pierce the darkness and 
 read the mystery of the still shadowy shore. 
 Was the dark river to be the river of death to 
 them? Was their boat to be indeed, as it 
 seemed to be in the pale light, the bark of 
 Charon? And the shore what of the shore, 
 where their swift course should end? God 
 help them ! 
 
 Only a few short moments could now pass 
 before their fate should be decided. Already 
 they knew it would be impossible to make the 
 usual landing-place, for the dashing of the ice 
 ahead told them of the dangers that awaited 
 them. The old boatman redoubled his exer- 
 tions to force the boat's head toward the low 
 strip of sand whence they had begun their 
 journey, but superhuman strength alone 
 could make sufficient headway to overcome 
 the effects of the drift. Nearer, nearer, ever 
 
 6*
 
 66 MASTER HATHORNE'S FAMILY. 
 
 nearer, the ice and rocks ! At last, when 
 there was no hope longer of creeping nearer 
 the shelving beach, old James cast his weight 
 upon the oar, turning the boat's head suddenly 
 upon the coast, and ceased longer to exert 
 either strength or skill, save what was re- 
 quired to keep the boat's bow steady that she 
 might strike, as he said, " bows on." 
 
 Paul stepped back from his position and 
 took his seat upon a thwart. His lips were 
 firmly compressed ; his face was pale in the 
 moonlight ; his heart beat quickly within his 
 bosom. 
 
 A sudden dash of spray blinded him, and 
 like a war-horse leaping to the charge the 
 boat sprang forward upon the rocks. Both 
 men were cast upon the bottom of the boat 
 from the violence of the shock. The grind- 
 ing masses of ice closed in upon the fated 
 boat ; the timbers groaned and cracked ; there 
 came another deadly crash and a quick, loud 
 cry for help, and Paul remembered nothing 
 more. 
 
 That night a messenger awoke the inmates 
 of Mr. Hathorne's house, just as the midnight
 
 MASTER HATHORNE' S FAMILY. 67 
 
 hour had passed away. A few hurried words 
 were interchanged between the man who had 
 knocked and Hathorne, and the latter hasten- 
 ed with hushed footstep to John's chamber. 
 Ruth could not distinguish the low words 
 spoken by the messenger to her father at the 
 window, but she heard him pass her door and 
 awake her brother. The few minutes of 
 silence that followed were to her an age, 
 and when she heard them both leave the 
 house together, she arose from the side of the 
 sleeping Grace and sought her mother's room. 
 She was disappointed. Mr. Hathorne had 
 only said there had been an accident and 
 he was needed. Stilling her fearing heart, 
 Ruth went back again to Grace, to lie awake 
 and toss uneasily upon her bed until the 
 dawn. 
 
 Then Mr. Hathorne came home, his face 
 graver than ever, his eye no longer seeking 
 his daughter's, whose glance eagerly inter- 
 rogated his face as she met him at the door. 
 
 " Ruth," he said, " wrap yourself up 
 warmly and come with me. Ask mother 
 for the strongest brandy she can find, and
 
 68 MASTER HATHORNE'S FAMILT. 
 
 bring it with you. Never mind now," he 
 continued as he saw her alarmed, inquir- 
 ing glance; "I will tell you as we go, but 
 hurry and get ready. John is waiting for 
 us." 
 
 Poor, trembling maiden ! would her limbs 
 fail ere she completed her preparations? She 
 tried to encourage her doubting heart; be- 
 sides, her pride must sustain her. No one, 
 her father, John, must see the trepidation of 
 her poor little heart ; it would have revealed to 
 them what she had not yet dared to confess to 
 herself. 
 
 Out into the cold morning air, facing the 
 bleak wind that still blew with violence, the 
 father and daughter hastened away upon 
 their errand. He led her straight up over 
 Beacon Hill and down to the river's bank. 
 Her heart sank within her as she saw the 
 direction he was taking, but she steeled her 
 mind to listen to the account he was giving 
 her of the nature of their mission. 
 
 The boat had gone ashore at a point half 
 a mile below the landing-place, upon a little 
 point that formed the northern side of a cove
 
 MASTER HATHORNE'S FAMILY. 69 
 
 in which a fisherman's hut was situated. Old 
 James had recognized the location, and just 
 as the boat struck had caught the friendly 
 gleam of the light from the window of the 
 humble dwelling; his quick, loud cry for 
 help had been heard and speedily answered 
 by his fellow-craftsman, but it was too late 
 for human aid to save them from the waves. 
 In an instant the poor boat had been shivered 
 on the ice and rocks, and her burden given to 
 the sea. The old fisherman had clung con- 
 vulsively to the oar, which he still held, as the 
 icy waters closed over him, and thus he was 
 cast upon the shore almost as his preserver 
 reached the spot. Stunned and bleeding, he 
 was quickly borne to the warm hut and 
 placed before the fire. The genial heat re- 
 called his faculties ; he opened his eyes and 
 gazed quickly around, and instantly re- 
 membering, he started to his feet to hurry 
 again to the shore. He sank back exhausted 
 by the motion, but he waved his friend im- 
 patiently away, speaking only the name of 
 him who had been his passenger and com- 
 panion.
 
 70 MASTER HATHORNE'S FAMILT. 
 
 Fruitless had been the search for nearly an 
 hour's time, when, just as he was turning away 
 to retrace his steps, the fisherman saw the 
 gleam of moonlight upon a white, upturned 
 face. It was the work of a moment to hasten 
 to the rock where it lay at some distance from 
 the water, and disengage the prostrate form 
 from the broken ice and fragments of wood 
 that partially imprisoned it. It was found 
 that the bow post and a part of the planks 
 secured to it had remained undisturbed, and 
 caught in this and there held by the entangle- 
 ment of a rope, the body of the young man 
 had been preserved from a watery grave and 
 driven upon the land. Still, the protection 
 had not been such as to shield the form from 
 contact with the rocks and ice. Bruised and 
 torn and bleeding, with no sense nor move- 
 ment, Paul lay before the fire the long night 
 through, making no sign of life. 
 
 There Ruth found him. His eyes closed, 
 his black hair, wet from the icy waves, matted 
 back from his forehead, his lips still firm as in 
 the instant of peril, his poor hands hanging 
 helplessly at his side as if the life-blood no
 
 MASTER HATHORNE'S FAMILY. 71 
 
 longer pulsed in their veins, ah ! it was a 
 fearful sight for those dark maiden eyes to 
 meet ! She did not murmur, did not sob nor 
 weep, while she knew her poor heart was 
 breaking within her as she gazed. Nobly, 
 with heroic fortitude, she devoted her whole 
 mind to the task before her the task, she felt, 
 that Heaven had set for her. 
 
 Slowly, slowly came back the life to the 
 poor body. The eyes unclosed, then slept 
 again. The pale lips parted, smiled, as if 
 the returning spirit would fain impart to the 
 body some tithe of the beauty of which it had 
 caught a faint, faint gleam. God had saved 
 this life, rewarding the efforts and answering 
 the prayers God had saved this life, this 
 young life. Should it not now be consecrated 
 unto him, that it might prove his merciful 
 design not to have been in vain ? Paul Wal- 
 lingford lived. Ruth prayed that his life 
 might be spared for the service of the Lord, 
 for the eternal love of Jesus Christ.
 
 CHAPTER V. 
 
 THE ANXIOUS INQUIRER. 
 
 WO days passed before Paul Walling- 
 ford was able to leave the hospitable 
 roof of the fisherman for that of his 
 friends. His strong constitution had proved 
 itself able to resist the heavy pressure brought 
 to bear upon it ; and the fearful exposure to 
 which he had been subjected did not result, 
 as it was feared, in a prolonged fever. Upon 
 the third day, then, wrapped warmly in shawls 
 and cloaks, and resting as comfortably as pos- 
 sible upon a bed of pillows, he was transferred 
 in Mr. Hathorne's family-carriage, placed for 
 the occasion upon a sledge, to the home he 
 had left in the height of proud health and 
 happiness. 
 
 Every motion was attended with great pain, 
 and his removal occasioned much more ex- 
 
 72
 
 MASTER HATHORNB'S FAMILY. 73 
 
 haustion than he had anticipated. It was 
 therefore of great service to him that soon 
 after his arrival and establishment in a warm, 
 soft bed, he fell into a sweet sleep, from which 
 in the course of a few hours he awoke much 
 refreshed. Every care and attention was 
 shown the invalid by the inmates of the 
 dwelling ; Mr. Hathorne came every day to 
 his room to inquire in person for his improve- 
 ment, and his wife was indefatigable in her 
 efforts for the supply of every comfort and 
 for the speedy return of his health. John 
 and Ruth and Grace, what could they do 
 more, after so much was done by their 
 parents, save to make the slow-going time 
 pass as pleasantly as possible by their pres- 
 ence and agreeable conversation? 
 
 After all it was only a week that Paul lay 
 sick in his room, his own natural strength 
 proving the best physician and rapidly re- 
 pairing the inroads upon his health made by 
 that hour of peril. He had not found it so 
 unpleasant, in spite of the pain he had suf- 
 fered and it had been considerable to be 
 housed up there, for it was a good home and
 
 74 MASTER HATHORNE'S FAMILY. 
 
 his friends were of the kindest. Besides, he 
 had found much time for reflection calm re- 
 flection, which he felt he needed and that he 
 knew he should not have had if his mind had 
 been taken up during the week, as usual, by 
 his college studies. Paul's mind was very im- 
 pressible ; his narrow escape from death had 
 exerted an influence upon it of no slight mo- 
 ment ; and many an hour he had passed alone 
 in the quiet of his sick-room pondering upon 
 the mercy that had spared his life and given 
 him still an opportunity of following out to 
 the end the thoughts that had occupied so 
 much of his attention for the past few months. 
 For his youthful heart had been touched by 
 the study of divine truth, and he, who had 
 been brought up in a family without the light 
 of the love of God, who was the son of a 
 father scorning religion and all its claims, had 
 bestowed more thought upon his obligations 
 to the Creator than ever before. Often when 
 his eyes had been closed as if in sleep and his 
 watcher had stolen softly from the room to 
 seek repose, he had been tracing inwardly the 
 signs of the finger of the Deity, manifest in
 
 MASTER HATHORNE'S FAMILT. 75 
 
 shaping the whole course of his life. And 
 ever culminating in that dread hour, his medi- 
 tations came again and again to the ice-cold 
 waves that had swept over him to claim him 
 for their own ; to the unconscious hours upon 
 the verge of the other world, when his spirit 
 had been he knew not where ; to the return- 
 ing life ; to the present, the time marked out 
 to him by the finger of God as the season for 
 securing for his own the proffered blessings 
 of the gospel of Christ ; and as he thought, 
 ofttimes the tears would course their way 
 down his pale cheeks and fall upon his pil- 
 low, and he would murmur a prayer that his 
 mother, his mother who was dead, had taught 
 him in his infancy, that God would make him 
 good and keep him in all fear and love. 
 
 Oh the poor, poor soul ! There may be 
 what men call a good heart, a loving disposi- 
 tion ; there may be a great intellect, a giant 
 mind ; but if sin be not forgiven, and the soul 
 be not safely folded in the arms of Christ, it 
 will often moan and cry, and lisp its childish 
 prayers for that which it hath not. For the 
 Loving One said: ''Come unto me and I
 
 j6 MASTER HATHORNE'S FAMILY. 
 
 will give you rest," and rest can be found 
 nowhere else. 
 
 One day toward the last of the week Paul 
 had become much stronger, and had been 
 lying in this way alone, apparently asleep. 
 Ruth, who had left him an hour before, and 
 to whose care her mother had entrusted the 
 patient, entered the room with noiseless tread 
 and sat down to wait till he should awake. 
 Her chair was placed a little behind the bed, 
 where Paul could not easily have seen it had 
 he been awake. She had remained in perfect 
 quiet a few minutes, thinking over the events 
 of the past week, when she was startled by a 
 sob from the invalid. She arose quickly and 
 stood by his side, but as he still seemed 
 asleep, she did not disturb him. She thought 
 that he dreamed, for his eyes were moist with 
 tears, and again the low, smothered sob came 
 as he lay so quietly. But no I Still with eyes 
 closed, the dark lashes quivering on his 
 cheek, his lips murmured and ihe caught 
 the words 
 
 "O mother, come and teach me again 1 
 O Jesus, give me thy love ! thy love I"
 
 MASTER HATHORNE'S FA MILT. 77 
 
 Ruth heard and her heart beat fast as it 
 breathed a responsive, "Amen." She bent 
 over the young man before her and spoke. 
 She could not hope to withdraw without 
 attracting his attention, and her native deli- 
 cacy would not allow her to remain silent, as 
 it was evident he was not aware of her 
 presence. 
 
 "Paul," she said in a low voice, "you 
 were speaking. Can I do anything for 
 you?" 
 
 He started quickly, and his dark eyes look- 
 ed up into her hers. He saw there that she 
 had heard and understood his words. After 
 gazing long and earnestly into the face of 
 his beautiful watcher, he smiled and said 
 abruptly, 
 
 " Yes, Ruth I Get for me the peace you 
 have !" and he laid his hand beseechingly 
 upon hers. She was almost startled at the 
 earnestness of these few simple words. She 
 had not known of the contest that had been 
 going on in the young man's breast ; and as 
 she had been surprised to hear his low words 
 spoken to himself, so was her surprise in-
 
 78 MASTER HATHORNE'S FAMILY. 
 
 creased at this earnest and sudden appeal to 
 her. In answer to his words, instantly and 
 almost without thought she repeated solemnly 
 the promise of the Redeemer : 
 
 " Come unto me, all ye that labor and are 
 heavy laden, and I will give you rest." Then 
 after a little silence : " Paul, I am powerless 
 to give you that for which you ask. You 
 must go to him from whom I received it, 
 and who is ready to give it to you also." 
 
 " But how am I to go? And whither? It 
 is easy to say 'Go,' but it is hard, oh so hard, 
 to find the way." He moved uneasily and 
 partly turned away. " I believe my sickness 
 has made me weak in mind as well as in 
 body," he said with a half-bitter smile. "You 
 found me with my eyes wet, my voice over- 
 come by emotion almost too great to allow me 
 to speak, and when I did speak I said that 
 which I had determined to keep locked in my 
 own breast, perhaps for ever. Oh, Ruth, 
 Ruth, pity me and do not think me wholly 
 devoid of sense ! I have spoken now, and 
 you may as well know all. I have suffered 
 torments here on this sick bed. The pain of
 
 MASTER HATHORNE^ FAMILY. 79 
 
 body has been, but the sting of a poor fly to 
 the agony that has racked my soul, and in 
 spite of all my striving I am no nearer the 
 end. I would give everything, my life, if I 
 could find the one treasure, the pearl of great 
 price, but I am beginning to think it will 
 never be mine. God can give it to others 
 who are not half so wretched as I am, who 
 are not half so eager for the gift, but he for- 
 gets me. Ah, Ruth, you have it and you 
 cannot know; but it is hard, oh, hard indeed 
 to feel its want as I do !" 
 
 His voice failed him and he lay silent, 
 overcome by the violence of the storm within 
 his breast. The blessing could not be given 
 to him, he thought. Ah, it was even then 
 nearer the doubter of divine mercy than he 
 dreamed 1 
 
 Ruth stood by his side in silence still look- 
 ing down upon his averted face, her hand 
 resting upon the coverlet beneath his. She 
 had never seen before the struggle of a noble 
 spirit, of a spirit yearning for that love higher 
 than any that the world can give. She was 
 at a loss ; she was almost alarmed at the
 
 So MASTER HATHORNE'S FAMILY. 
 
 violence of his emotion, and she had no hope 
 of giving him the help he so much desired, 
 save by referring the agonized soul to the 
 great Physician. Her own experience had 
 been so totally different from this that she 
 could not understand the young man's feel- 
 ings. She could hardly remember the time 
 when she had not loved Christ, and when she 
 had been without that blessed peace which 
 that love alone can give. With her there 
 had never been that depth of desire, that 
 almost despair, which she now saw exhibited. 
 
 In a moment Paul spoke again. It seemed 
 as if he could not rest an instant, now that the 
 step had been taken, and he had confided to 
 another the thoughts contending in his mind. 
 He motioned Ruth to draw her chair to the 
 bedside and turned toward her. 
 
 " You know a part of my past life and his- 
 tory," he said, " and even from that you 
 understand what my advantages have been. 
 You know that I lost my mother while still 
 very young, scarcely more than six years 
 old ; that since her death I have never had 
 that loving care ^which fostered my earliest
 
 MASTER HATHORNE'S FAMILY. 8l 
 
 years ; that my father has always been so 
 absorbed in business affairs that he has had 
 little time or care for anything else, even for 
 his son. I do not complain ; indeed, I have 
 no reason to do so, as far as this world's com- 
 fort and well-being are concerned, for if my 
 father's attention has been absorbed almost 
 entirely by objects extraneous to myself, he 
 has still not forgotten me, providing liberally 
 for every want, and indeed, as I believe, 
 making me the only object for which he is 
 continually exerting every power of body 
 and mind. Having no wife, no other child 
 save me, he labors, as he himself has often 
 said, solely to amass sufficient wealth for me, 
 that I may never want. Still, his immediate 
 attentions are all engrossed in this very pur- 
 suit, and while he has thought he was caring 
 for me most there has really been the great- 
 est neglect. I look back now and wonder at 
 myself. Before we came to this country, in 
 our old home in England, I was compara- 
 tively happy. It is true, after my studies 
 were done, I was every day, for the most 
 part, entirely alone, having no playmates, as 
 F
 
 82 MASTER HATHORNE'S FAMILT. 
 
 other boys had, and not wishing for them , 
 but I would steal away into the great deserted 
 library and curl myself up in a window-seat 
 with the books for my companions. Hours 
 and hours, when my father was away in the 
 city and the servants were busy about their 
 tasks, I have passed poring over some old 
 book and making its secrets my own. Father 
 would sometimes ask me how I had spent the 
 day, and if I would not like to be with him 
 in the city or where I could find some play- 
 mates; but I was happy enough by myself, 
 and as he saw that I was contented he 
 thought no more about me. I used some- 
 titnes to wish, when he laid his hand on my 
 head and spoke thus kindly to me, that in 
 the long, dull evenings he would study with 
 me, or talk more to me ; but I hardly dared 
 to ask him to do so, he seemed so distant, 
 and I more than half feared him. I re- 
 member I always loved to read the Bible 
 particularly. I do not know why ; perhaps 
 because I remembered my mother with so 
 much fondness, and was feeling the effects 
 of her instructions. Certainly I never enjoyed
 
 MASTER HATHORNE'S FAMILT. 83 
 
 reading in any Bible so much as in the one 
 that had been hers. 
 
 "So I lived from day to day, until we came 
 here, in my eighteenth year. Since then I 
 have missed my old friends, the books ; and, 
 as I had much time to myself until I came to 
 college, I amused myself in trying to recall 
 what I had read previously and in speculating 
 upon the subjects thus presented to my mind. 
 Particularly have I been interested since our 
 arrival here in the subject so much discussed, 
 which was our theme only a few days ago ; 
 and our intimacy with Mr. William's family 
 has fostered this interest until I have can- 
 vassed the whole ground, and think that I 
 understand it thoroughly. It was this in- 
 quiry that first turned my thoughts toward 
 my own condition as a sinner, and for the 
 last few months I have had little peace. I 
 have searched the Scriptures, I have pon- 
 dered and prayed, I have wept the bitter 
 tears of repentance and desire, and yet the 
 boon is denied me. Oh, Ruth, Ruth, do not 
 say you cannot help me. You are God's 
 child, you are loved by him. He will listen
 
 S4 MASTER HATHORNE'S FAMILY. 
 
 while you pray, though he is deaf to me. 
 Oh, Ruth, that religion, Christ's religion, 
 should be to all others a blessing, but not to 
 me!" 
 
 The deepest chord of sympathy trembled 
 in the listening maiden's breast in response to 
 these soul-rending words. What could she 
 do or say for his assistance she whose ex- 
 perience in such matters had been so small? 
 She knew not. A silent prayer went up from 
 her heart to the ear of the Infinite. A light 
 dawned upon her bewildered mind, and she 
 seized upon the thought as the only hope. 
 Her voice was calm and clear as she spoke 
 in answer to her companion's words. There 
 was no uncertainty of manner, no doubt ex- 
 pressed by her simple declaration, for she felt 
 that in answer to her prayer this truth had 
 come to her mind from heaven, and ere she 
 opened her lips to speak she felt assured that 
 the Lord was with her, giving her the words 
 that were needed by this inquiring soul. 
 
 "Paul," she said, "the One from whom 
 yon expect this blessing has said, ' Believe on 
 the Lord Jesus Christ, and thou shalt be
 
 MASTER HATHORNB'S FAMILY. 85 
 
 saved.' You have nothing more to do. That 
 is all. Do you believe?" 
 
 "God knows I believe, and I love his Son !" 
 
 "Then the promise is yours; you are a 
 Christian." 
 
 She had laid her hand on his, and her gaze 
 was fixed upon his face. He did not move as 
 she spoke ; his eyes gazed into hers, as if 
 drinking in the full meaning of the words 
 that she uttered. He saw in the divine sen- 
 tence she had repeated a new meaning, 
 fraught with deeper consequence than he had 
 ever dreamed before. The truth began to 
 dawn upon his soul ; the grand yet simple 
 truth, that to believe is to be, in the Christian 
 world ; he had never before realized in all its 
 beauty the meaning of the word Christian. 
 Now he saw the "straight and narrow way," 
 that had seemed to him before a dreary, im- 
 passable waste, opening fair and beautiful and 
 leading to the heavenly country. He saw 
 Jesus the gracious Giver of salvation. 
 
 "The Saviour has sent you to deliver me 
 and lead me to him," he said, simply. 
 "Ruth, he is my elder brother."
 
 86 MASTER HATHORNE'S FAMILY. 
 
 Thick and fast fell her tears upon his hand , 
 tears of devout thanksgiving to him who had 
 led her aright, and who had redeemed this 
 one more soul from sin. She arose hastily 
 and stood by his side. There was yet one 
 thing that must be said. 
 
 "Paul, upon that night, that dreadful 
 night" 
 
 "For which I thank my God !" 
 
 "I prayed that if your life came back 
 again it might be given to the service of God. 
 That prayer is now answered. I know you 
 will serve him as you best can, with all hon- 
 esty and earnestness of heart, no matter what 
 way you walk or with what people you cast 
 your lot. But one thing I must ask of you. 
 You do not think as we do ; my father's re- 
 ligious doctrines I know cannot be yours, for 
 you have declared it as unmistakably as if 
 you had spoken it in words, when, on the day 
 you left us, you parried his attack. He is al- 
 ready alarmed. Do not bring hatred to his 
 heart and sorrow to our home, for he cannot 
 love an enemy of his church. Pardon me, 
 Paul, for speaking thus, but, believe me, it is
 
 MASTER HATHORNE'S FAMILT. 87 
 
 for the good of all. Avoid disputes while 
 here, and before you take any step to declare 
 yourself the friend of another people, let me 
 know, that I may prevent, if possible, any 
 discord between us." 
 
 "Thank you," he said; "I am glad you 
 have spoken. I will do as you say." 
 
 Ruth left him and passed to her own room, 
 and as he lay and pondered upon his new -joy, 
 his eyelids closed and he fell into a sweet, 
 childlike sleep. 
 
 Not many days passed before Paul was 
 well again, and he returned to his studies with 
 renewed zeal. His absence from college had 
 been no loss to him. Had he not gained that 
 for which he would have given all else, and 
 in comparison with which even life itself wzs 
 not to be valued? Now there was more pur- 
 pose in study ; everything wore a new aspect 
 in his eyes ; the face of nature had never 
 been so beautiful before ; the songs of the 
 birds, the ripple of the waves, the sighing of 
 the breezes, all seemed to bear to his mind 
 new messages of love and peace. Even
 
 3S MASTER HATHORNE' S FAMILT. 
 
 when the wintry storms beat and the earth 
 seemed to shrink in terror beneath the fury of 
 the tempest, there was that in the storm which 
 led his thoughts above; for he turned again 
 to the hour when he had hung between life 
 and death, and remembered the mercy which 
 had restored him to life and strength. 
 
 It was with greater pleasure than ever that 
 he looked forward to the return of Saturday, 
 that he might revisit the friends who had so 
 kindly cared for him during his sickness. 
 Their dwelling was now more than ever his 
 home, and the happiest hours of the week 
 were those he spent beneath its roof. There 
 was only one thing to trouble him and mar 
 his happiness. He could not fail to notice a 
 growing coldness on the part of Mr. Hathorne 
 toward himself. He knew not to what it was to 
 be attributed, unless perhaps to suspicions of 
 his heretical principles, of which Ruth had 
 hinted. Mr. Hathorne, however, had shown 
 him the kindest attentions during his sickness, 
 and he was unwilling to believe that this was 
 due merely to the hospitality which the host 
 felt obliged to observe. Mr. Hathorne always
 
 MASTER HATHORNE'S FAMILT. 89 
 
 received him to his home with some appear- 
 ance of cordiality; still, there was that in his 
 mien that often made him uncomfortable, and 
 compelled him to feel that he no longer held 
 the warm place in his heart which he had 
 once possessed. 
 
 Yet Paul could not find it in his heart to 
 renounce all the pleasures, so dear to him, of 
 this quiet home. All the other members of 
 the family were the same as ever. John was 
 still his staunch friend, standing almost in the 
 position of a brother to him, aiding him by 
 his advice and the experience that his addi- 
 tional years had given ; Ruth and Grace 
 were ever ready to make their home pleasant 
 to the lonely student so far away from his 
 own ; and Mrs. Hathorne filled as well as she 
 could the place so long ago made vacant by 
 the death of his fondly-remembered mother. 
 Therefore, though it was with pain that 
 he saw the indications of Mr. Hathorne's 
 changed feeling, he was unable to sever 
 himself entirely from all the influences which 
 he felt to be so necessary to his happiness. 
 
 Paul had not mistaken Mr. Hathorne's feel- 
 
 8
 
 90 MAST Elf HATHORNE'S FAMILY. 
 
 ings in regard to himself. His answer to 
 the stern Puritan's attack upon his sentiments 
 had revealed his position, and it was impossi- 
 ble for Paul Wallingford, the dissenter from 
 his doctrines, to retain the affection that had 
 begun to spring up in the old man's heart. 
 Paul was not a Christian when he entered 
 into so many arguments with John upon 
 doctrinal points ; and it may seem strange 
 that one having so little personal interest at 
 stake should be so ready to offer himself as 
 the champion of any particular faith. But it 
 must be remembered that nearly all his life 
 had been passed in study ; and many of the 
 busiest days of his later years when the 
 tumultuous events of the reign of the second 
 Charles had impressed his thoughtful mind 
 with the importance of the subject had been 
 devoted to the consideration of the different 
 phases of religious belief that had occasioned 
 such bitter persecutions upon both sides of the 
 sea. Thus it was that he so well understood 
 the great questions of the day, and was ena- 
 bled, now that the time had come, easily to 
 make a choice for himself.
 
 CHAPTER VI. 
 
 PAUL WALLINGFORD'S PURPOSE. 
 
 j N the quiet little town of Boston more 
 than two hundred years ago the daily 
 life of our forefathers was very little 
 varied. There were times when the whole 
 community would be stirred by some im- 
 portant proceeding, or by some revolutionary 
 doctrine proclaimed amongst them ; but these 
 disturbances would soon subside, and day 
 would follow day with no more important 
 event than the arrival of a vessel from 
 England bearing news from home, and 
 perhaps a carriage consigned to some one 
 of the wealthier citizens, or the visit of a 
 larger number of Indians than usual to the 
 neighborhood for the purpose of trading or of 
 profiting by the teachings of the good apostle, 
 Eliot. 
 
 91
 
 92 MASTER HATHORNE'S FAMILT. 
 
 No incident worthy of particular note 
 occurred in the history of our little family 
 for several months after Paul's sickness. The 
 days and weeks went by ; the snows of winter 
 gradually disappeared beneath the rays of the 
 warmer sun of spring ; the ice-bound coast 
 became free again, and the swollen streams 
 rushed joyfully from their winter fastnesses 
 among the hills, and mingled their life with 
 their parent sea ; the willing earth began 
 again to put on her robes of beauty and pre- 
 pare herself for all the glories of the summer 
 days. 
 
 It was one day in the last of May that Paul 
 Wallingford came earlier than usual on Satur- 
 day morning to his home with the Hathornes. 
 It was a busy day, as Saturday always was 
 in every New England household, but Paul 
 was gladly welcomed, and his request that 
 Ruth might be spared by her mother for a 
 sail with him on the bay met with no such 
 opposition as he feared. Grace urged her 
 sister to go, and with her help her mother 
 anticipated little trouble in doing all the 
 necessary work. Paul told them he had
 
 MASTER HATHORNB'S FAMILT. 93 
 
 engaged John to go with them upon their 
 excursion, and so Mrs. Hathorne consented 
 the more readily to Ruth's absence. 
 
 The morning was beautiful just fitted for 
 so rare an occurrence as the excursion which 
 Paul had planned. Seldom could either 
 young men or maidens gather enough time 
 from their many arduous duties to spend a 
 half day in such pastime as our young friends 
 now proposed ; therefore it was with the more 
 zest that Paul and Ruth hurried away to the 
 water-side, where the boat awaited them. 
 They found John already upon the sands, 
 and without much delay they pushed out into 
 the bay. Paul was somewhat skilled in the 
 management of a boat, and under his com- 
 mand they sped away from shore with a full 
 sail and a boiling wake at the stern. 
 
 An excursionist in the Boston harbor of our 
 days gazes upon an entirely different scene 
 from that which unfolded itself to view in the 
 year 1664 or thereabout. Now there are piles 
 of granite and substantial brick dwellings and 
 warehouses to be left behind ; the smoky 
 wharves of South Boston and the closely-
 
 94 MASTER HATHORNE'S FAMILY 
 
 built hill lie upon the right; the lumber- 
 strewn yards of East Boston and her skeleton 
 ships stretch along the left shore ; and the 
 speeding steam-boat glides away through a 
 naze of vessels, from the size of a skiff to 
 that of the iron-clad man-of-war, past the 
 green-capped granite wall of Fort Indepen- 
 dence, past the black and threatening guns of 
 Winthrop and Warren, winding a devious 
 way along the buoyed channel down to the 
 open sea. The islands lie sandy, for the 
 most part, and bare of trees; the tall light- 
 houses lift up their ghostly lengths upon the 
 summits of the steeps ; the many sails flit 
 hither and thither over the waters ; and all 
 is joyful life and activity. But this is modern 
 Boston. 
 
 At the time of our story the beautiful bay 
 wore a far different aspect. Then a little 
 town of low, unpainted wooden houses rested 
 lovingly upon the green hills and valleys of 
 the peninsula, of which a writer of 1634 ob- 
 served : "It being a neck, and bare of wood, 
 they (the inhabitants) are not troubled with 
 three great annoyances, of wolves, rattle-
 
 MASTER HATHORNB'S FAMILT. 95 
 
 snakes, and mosquitoes."* The prominent 
 objects to one upon the waters of the bay 
 would be the fort upon "a great broad hill" 
 on the south side and a windmill that crowned 
 the top of a hill "equal in bigness" to the 
 former elevation upon the north side. The 
 islands far and near, save where the hand of 
 man had cleared them for the supply of fuel 
 for the town, were covered with a luxuriant 
 growth of trees, and the shores of the main- 
 land were dark and majestic with their forests 
 that had stood centuries. 
 
 Almost always some vessel would be riding 
 at anchor upon the waves, but the ships were 
 so few that they were always objects of the 
 greatest interest, not, as now, passed by with 
 a glance. Indian canoes darted noiselessly 
 about, in and out between the islets, their 
 swarthy navigators wielding the light paddles 
 with inimitable dexterity, propelling and guid- 
 ing the frail craft with a single turn of the 
 blade. Here and there rafts of fire-wood 
 were floating up toward the town, and lighters 
 
 * " New England's Prospect," by William Wood London, 
 1634. Page 37.
 
 Q6 MASTER HATHORNE'S FAMILY. 
 
 laden with hay for the cattle crept silently 
 along. It was all a scene of the rarest 
 beauty a scene at once of peace and plenty 
 and of busy activity. 
 
 For some time our three young people 
 sailed on in silence. Paul held the tiller, 
 John sat near the centre of the boat, having 
 the sheet under his care, and Ruth sat be- 
 tween them upon the windward side, her 
 white hand clinging half in fear to the gun- 
 wale as the little craft careened before the 
 breeze. 
 
 After the first few words of instruction 
 given to John by Paul a silence had fallen 
 upon them as each drank in the placid beauty 
 stretched out before them. It was enough 
 for the eye to gaze, and no word of exclama- 
 tion was needed to impress upon either of 
 them the delight felt by the others. The 
 water curling at the bow was all that broke 
 the stillness, save at intervals the distant cry 
 of some sailor or the falling of an oar dropped 
 from the hand of a careless boatman. The 
 white gulls wheeled unmolested in their flight, 
 swooping down ever and anon to the waters
 
 MASTER HATHORNE'S FAMILY. 97 
 
 and resting for a moment their flapping 
 wings, or seizing for their food some luck- 
 less fish ; and from beneath the waves the 
 silver}' mackerel would leap above the sur- 
 face in fruitless attempts to escape their 
 voracious pursuers. 
 
 At last Paul altered their course a few 
 points to avoid a large mass of floating sea- 
 weed, in which they would have become 
 entangled, and abruptly broke the silence by 
 calling the attention of the others to an Indian 
 canoe that darted rapidly out from the island 
 they were approaching and moved in their 
 direction as if to meet them. 
 
 "Here is an old friend of mine," said Paul, 
 " whom I engaged to meet us here. He is 
 an Indian who has had dealings with us at 
 home, and is an ardent friend of my father. 
 He found me out when he came here a 
 month ago, and we have seen each other 
 many times since. He is a Narragansett, 
 true as steel, and always ready to favor me 
 as he can. I think we shall find he has some 
 dinner for us on the island." 
 
 As he thought, the Indian no sooner came
 
 9? MASTER HATHORNE'S FAMILY. 
 
 within hail than he ceased paddling and 
 pointed to the cove he had left. 
 
 " Oh, duck ! Roast him duck ! Good foi 
 eat to the ladee !" he cried out, beckoning 
 them to hasten. 
 
 Paul laughed heartily at his Indian friend's 
 language and gesticulations ; and as the Indian 
 himself seemed amused thereupon, Ruth and 
 John no longer restrained their merriment, 
 but joined in the laugh. 
 
 "Solomon is afraid his dinner will get 
 cold," Paul said. "We must run in and 
 help him eat it, and then sail longer after- 
 ward. He has anticipated my orders by a 
 \vhole hour." 
 
 They rapidly neared the shore, the Indian 
 following in his canoe, and it was but a 
 moment before the keel grated on the sandy 
 beach of the little cove and they stepped 
 from the boat. Long Solomon, as he was 
 called, a red-skin of immense stature, lifted 
 his canoe upon the beach above the tide- 
 mark, and then led the way by a small path 
 into the woods. A minute's walk brought 
 them to a little clearing, in the midst of
 
 MASTER HATHORNE'S FAMILY. 99 
 
 which there was a smouldering fire, before 
 which was the duck roasting upon a spit. 
 The Indian's first care was to turn the duck 
 and rake the fire together ; then he conducted 
 the party to a rude cover he had erected out 
 of bark and birch poles. A low seat of stones 
 and moss was ready, and Solomon, waving his 
 hand majestically, signified to Ruth, by a 
 repetition of the word " Ladee, ladee," that 
 she was to rest there until the preparations 
 for dinner were completed. 
 
 Their sail of an hour had whetted the 
 appetite of all the party, and it was with 
 great satisfaction that they partook of the 
 meal which Solomon and Paul served to 
 them. The duck was roasted to a turn, and 
 the vegetables, baked in the ashes, were ex- 
 cellent. Solomon stood looking on with great 
 gravity as the three partook of the repast. 
 Ruth and John thought they had never seen 
 so fine a specimen of a man among the 
 natives of the forest, and it was with the 
 greatest admiration they regarded him at- 
 tentively as he leaned with folded arms 
 against a pine-trunk, the great muscles of
 
 100 MASTER HATHORNB'S FAMILT. 
 
 his bare and tawny limbs in dignified re- 
 pose. 
 
 Their hunger having been allayed, a pleas- 
 ant hour was spent beneath the cool shade, 
 '.he brother and sister trying to induce the 
 Indian to talk with them ; but his persevering 
 monosyllables discouraged their attempts, and 
 he soon stepped aside from them and stretched 
 himself out beneath a tree for rest. A very 
 giant he seemed, lying upon the green earth 
 among the great roots, and Ruth was glad 
 such a man was not likely to meet her alone 
 in the forest wandering and lost. She did 
 not know Long Solomon as she did after- 
 ward, and as she looked on him she little 
 thought of the devoted service she was yet to 
 receive at his hands. 
 
 It was noon when they set sail again and 
 drew away from the island. Paul had made 
 an arrangement with Solomon to meet him 
 during the next week, and the latter, embark- 
 ing in his canoe, paddled away toward the 
 hills of Dorchester. They watched the blade 
 of his paddle as it flashed in the sunshine, 
 scattering the glistening drops in a bright
 
 MASTER HATHORNE'S FAMILT. 101 
 
 shower behind him, and they marked the 
 grace with which his powerful arms forced 
 his way over the waves. 
 
 "As true a heart as ever beat in white man 
 or red man is in Solomon's breast," said Paul, 
 enthusiastically. ' ' I venture to say I have no 
 truer friend than that dark man of the forest, 
 and there is nothing he would not do for any 
 of our family. My father befriended him 
 upon one occasion, and he will never forget 
 it. I had an object in introducing him to you 
 to-day ; if you like his appearance, he is the 
 guide I propose to take on our journey." 
 
 "If in other respects he is as good as in 
 cooking a dinner, I could desire no better red- 
 skin," said John, laughing. "You say he is 
 to be trusted? I am loth to believe in any 
 Indian, and really, if it were not for powder 
 and ball, I think we should find few of them 
 friendly." 
 
 "Not so with this one," Paul answered. 
 "I know him thoroughly, and I would trust 
 my life in his hands at any moment." 
 
 "A good pledge, Paul. I vote for Solo- 
 mon."
 
 102 MASTER HATHORNE'S FAMILY. 
 
 " He is so noble and " Ruth began. 
 
 " We are all of a mind, I see," cried John, 
 smiling. "Roast duck is a capital means of 
 obtaining friends. Solomon was wise to re- 
 aort to so good an expedient." 
 
 "lie goes with us, then, next month," said 
 Paul. "Now for a matter of more import- 
 ance. We have chosen a guide, but perhaps 
 you will not go yourselves when you hear 
 what I have to say. I will tell you my story, 
 and then you can be guided by your own 
 judgment in the case. I could not have set 
 out with you on the journey we anticipate 
 without telling you of this great decision I 
 have made." 
 
 Ruth looked up quickly into the speaker's 
 face, divining the words that were to follow. 
 Paul's eyes did not meet hers. He was 
 looking seaward with fixed glance, evidently 
 thinking of nothing but what he was about to 
 say. His face was solemn and earnest as he 
 spoke. 
 
 " More than six months ago, when I was 
 sick beneath your roof, there came a day 
 when God revealed himself to me in all the
 
 MASTER HATHORNE'S FAMILT. 103 
 
 power of the salvation which he has provided 
 for men. As you both know, I at that time 
 resolved that my future life should be very 
 different from the years past indeed, a new 
 life had taken its root in my heart a new 
 love had sprung up there, that could only 
 influence me to the pursuit I have chosen. 
 Previous to that time my studies had taken 
 such a course that I became well acquainted 
 with all, or nearly all, of the great religious 
 questions of our day. Already I had can- 
 vassed with considerable care and the 
 greatest interest the grounds of difference 
 between the faith of the Puritans and the 
 peculiar doctrines of the other smaller sects ; 
 the Ranters and Seekers, Brownists and 
 Baptists and Quakers, the Antinomians and 
 Universalists, received as much study and 
 consideration as my facilities would allow. 
 You may have gathered from the conversa- 
 tions we have held together that to all but 
 one of these sects I have been as unable to 
 unite in belief as to the Puritans. You know 
 already my grounds for dissent from the Pu- 
 ritans' doctrines, and of the others it is of
 
 104 MASTER HATHORNE'S FAMILY. 
 
 little moment what opinions I hold, since but 
 one faith can receive my unqualified assent. 
 It is of this I am to tell you now. 
 
 * ' None of my family or friends have ever 
 cherished, to my knowledge, the sentiments 
 of the Baptists. I am the first to proclaim 
 myself of their number ; and I do so now only 
 after the most diligent study, which began 
 before that eventful day six months ago, and 
 has been continued, with earnest prayer for 
 divine guidance, since my heart has been 
 fixed in the love of Christ. I have been 
 wholly unable to make a different decision, 
 and henceforth my lot must be cast in with the 
 Baptists. Had it been possible, I would have 
 united gladly with such dear friends as you 
 have all been to me, but God has seen fit to 
 convince me that such was not my duty. It 
 is my purpose, when I return home next 
 month, to unite with the church there founded 
 by Mr. Williams and his associates by the 
 only true baptism, as I believe it immersion." 
 
 He stopped speaking. His voice had not 
 wavered, his eye had remained as bright and 
 earnest and unflinching before the gaze that
 
 MASTER HATHORNE'S FAMILT. 105 
 
 he felt was fixed upon him, as if he had not 
 been giving utterance to what they would 
 deem the deepest heresy. Now that he had 
 done speaking, he looked toward John as if 
 expecting some word of reply from him, but 
 his friend had turned from him and was gaz- 
 ing at the distant shore, fixed in deep and 
 grave meditation. After a silence of a few 
 
 V 
 
 moments, Paul said in a low tone : 
 
 "John, tell me that I have not lost my 
 friend. Tell me that our love for each other 
 rested upon a stronger basis than the perfect 
 unity of our opinions." 
 
 John turned to him slowly and gazed an in- 
 stant into Paul's deep, black eye. Then he 
 held him his hand, and as Paul placed his 
 with a glad smile in its grasp, he lifted his 
 other hand to heaven and said gravely : 
 
 "The love of our Lord Jesus Christ has 
 made me wiser than you think. I am a Pu- 
 ritan a member of that sect which was 
 driven from England to their home in the 
 wilderness. As God helps me, I will never 
 cast out a brother of another faiJi, either 
 from my home or my heart."
 
 lo6 MASTER HATHORNE'S FAMILY. 
 
 Could John have seen the light of gladness 
 that beamed from Ruth's eyes as he spoke he 
 would have had no fear that what he had said 
 would meet with her disapproval ; but she had 
 turned away, and her face was lifted toward 
 the bright, calm sky, in thankfulness to God 
 that he had given peace where she had feared 
 only discord. John thought her silence, her 
 averted face, were only to conceal her disap- 
 proval. 
 
 "It has been a hard duty," said Paul, his 
 face lighted up with joy, "to tell you this, 
 John. But, thank God I it is not as I feared. 
 It would have been a sad, sad day for me 
 had I lost so good a friend as John Hathorne. 
 Oh that I might have had your help in my 
 anxiety ! You would not have had me come 
 to this conclusion, I know, but I should have 
 been spared my fears for the friendship I prize 
 so much ; and in trying to lead me your way 
 I know I should, in some points, have been 
 helped on in my own. As it is " 
 
 "As it is, I am glad," interrupted John, 
 "for as I know you have come to your deci- 
 sion by yourself, I reverence the more the re-
 
 MASTER HATHORNE'S FAMILT. 107 
 
 suit of your mental conflict; for I think it 
 must have been a conflict that could bring 
 you to become one in heart and mind with 
 those who suffer so much trouble and per- 
 secution." 
 
 There was a little silence after John had 
 spoken, and Ruth wondered if it had been 
 Paul's bold arguments that had tempered her 
 brother's opinions to such a degree that he 
 could declare himself averse to the oppres- 
 sion of heresy. She knew that but little more 
 than two years ago, when the Quaker excite- 
 ment had culminated in the execution of Mary 
 Dyer, he had been opposed to lenient meas- 
 ures, though not approving that grave sen- 
 tence which brought an aged woman to the 
 scaffold. Since that time he had come to 
 know Paul, and might it not be due in some 
 part to his influence that this change in his 
 sentiments had occurred? 
 
 "Tell us, Paul, of your Baptist principles 
 and your way of arriving at them?" John 
 asked, thoughtfully. "I have not studied 
 these subjects so carefully as you have, 
 though I know enough of them to understand
 
 IOS MASTER HATHORNE'S FAMILT. 
 
 my own ground perfectly well. I am a 
 different man from what I was a few years 
 ago ; it is no longer with pain and anger I 
 hear other religious sentiments than my own 
 announced and defended ; and it is with 
 sorrow I have to confess that for so many 
 years I suffered myself to sympathize with 
 the bitter spirit of intolerance so prevalent in 
 our colony." 
 
 Paul was very willing to comply with his 
 friend's request. He thoroughly appreciated 
 the alteration in his character, and was re- 
 joiced that he whom he had thought to make 
 an enemy was still his friend, glad to listen 
 to his voice even though it spoke words for 
 which others would hate him. 
 
 " I will begin at the earliest period of my 
 studies in which I began to incline to my 
 present faith," Paul said, lying back upon the 
 thwart and gazing upon the waves that danced 
 merrily up and down in the direction of the 
 fair and graceful form of Ruth, who sat near 
 his side, her dark and thoughtful eyes fixed 
 in deep attention upon his face. " It was three 
 or four years ago that I came naturally from
 
 MASTER HATHORNE'S FAMILY. 1 09 
 
 a consideration of the Brownists to that of the 
 Baptists. Of their belief, that they receive 
 their faith directly from Christ and the apostles, 
 I will not now speak, for you will want to 
 debate that point with me; but I will only 
 tell you the simple story of how I found my- 
 self to be of their number. In the course of 
 my reading I came down through the per- 
 secution of the times of Henry VIII. and 
 Elizabeth, when the fires of Smithfield were 
 kindled alike for Papists and Baptists, to the 
 tyranny of Archbishop Laud in the reign of 
 Charles I., and to the heartrending accounts 
 of the fines, imprisonments, mutilations, 
 brandings, and tortures of all kinds inflicted 
 by that cruel servant of the church. His 
 pretensions to mercy and his claim that he 
 was performing the duty laid on him by the 
 meek and gentle and forgiving Saviour only 
 made his character the more hideous and 
 revolting in my eyes. As I read of these 
 terrible scenes, I shuddered at the violence 
 of the persecutors, and an irresistible impulse 
 came upon me to believe rather with the 
 
 suffering martyrs than with the monsters of 
 
 10
 
 iio MASTER HATHORNE'S FAMILY. 
 
 cruelty who oppressed them. Then recurred 
 to my mind the words of one of these Chris- 
 tians, who had endured much for the cause 
 in common with his brethren. Speaking of 
 his persecutors, he had said : * Be these, I 
 pray you, the sheep whom Christ hath sent 
 forth in the midst of wolves? can the sheep 
 persecute the wolf ? Doth Abel kill Cain ? 
 Doth David, though he might, kill Saul? 
 Doth he which is born of the Spirit kill him 
 that is born after the flesh?' I could only 
 answer, Kay ! the sheep whom Christ hath 
 sent forth are the weak rather than the strong ; 
 the birth of the Spirit is not for the unbridled 
 license of anger, malice, and revenge. The 
 children of God are they who are poor in 
 spirit ; for theirs is the kingdom of heaven : 
 the children of God are they who are merci- 
 ful ; for they shall obtain mercy ; and blessed 
 are they which are persecuted for righteous- 
 ness' sake ; for theirs is the kingdom of 
 heaven. Though my heart was sickened 
 within me, I tried not to think uncharitably 
 of those whose mistaken zeal pursued to the 
 death their less powerful opponents in faith,
 
 MASTER HATHORNE'S FAMILY. Ill 
 
 but in spite of all, I could only believe that 
 the help of God was with those who suffered 
 so much for his sake. 
 
 " Then a noble act of Christian heroism 
 provoked my admiration. Fifty years ago 
 John Robinson, the celebrated Puritan divine 
 to whom is due the early emigration of the 
 Pilgrims to this country, wrote in defence of 
 the civil power to punish ' religious actions,' 
 thus giving his authority in support of the 
 principles which have actuated the course of 
 the Colony of the Bay since its foundation to 
 the present day. A man of superior abilities, 
 John Smyth, who had been an Episcopal 
 clergyman, controverted these opinions, and 
 at one time the contest waxed very warm, 
 the arguments upon either side exciting much 
 attention from the friends and enemies of both 
 parties. This John Smyth, as you know, 
 was the celebrated Baptist pastor suffering 
 with his brethren upon the continent at the 
 time of which I speak. His is the deed that 
 so forcibly impressed me. His persecuted 
 brethren in England were bearing the haughty 
 rule of King James and his Puritanic parlia-
 
 112 MASTER HATHORNE'S FAMILY. 
 
 ments, suffering much from their efforts to 
 suppress the Baptist faith, though hoping for 
 better times from the disagreements between 
 the Puritans and James and the concealed 
 dislike of the former for their sovereign. 
 Smyth could not see his brethren in distress 
 and needing his assistance without moving 
 for their relief; gathering the exiles together, 
 he placed himself at their head as their pastor, 
 and returned to London. Christ had told 
 his disciples when here on earth that those 
 who ministered to their suffering brethren 
 ministered to him ; and that they might dis- 
 charge this Christian duty, Smyth and his 
 brethren braved the wrath of a king and the 
 consequences of a return from exile. This 
 act of moral heroism, though others may be 
 found to equal or even to surpass it, coming 
 to my attention at the opportune moment, 
 demanded and gained at once my admiration 
 and love for men who could so boldly execute 
 Christ's commands in the face of the mightiest 
 earthly power. 
 
 "There was a difference, too, in the way 
 in which this sect bore their persecutions
 
 MASTER HATHORNE'S FAMILY. 113 
 
 that distinguished them from other sects. 
 Look not only at those I have spoken of be- 
 fore, but also at that noble champion of 
 religious liberty and of Baptist principles, 
 Roger Williams, your friend and mine, thank 
 God ! His mildness and affecting sufferance 
 of ill, and his noble, Christian benevolence 
 toward those who dissent from his religious 
 views, illustrate the general character of the 
 Baptists in this respect. 
 
 " Now all these were but the means of bring- 
 ing my attention to the earnest study of the 
 Baptist doctrines, and of these how can I 
 speak so that you, who do not believe in them, 
 can appreciate my feelings in having found 
 in them the nearest approach to the perfect 
 church of Christ? Let me say nothing to 
 wound your feelings, for I respect the opinions 
 of your church, as you serve still the same 
 Master ; but, however my enthusiasm may 
 lead me to defend my new-found faith, re- 
 member that I am still filled with all the 
 ardor of a new disciple, and excuse on this 
 ground all I may say amiss. 
 
 "The Baptists wish for no higher testimony
 
 114 MASTER HATHORNE S FAMILY. 
 
 than the words of the great Founder of the 
 church, Christ himself: and when they cite 
 his declarations in favor of their belief and 
 practice, they consider that all which is neces- 
 sary is done. I turned immediately, then, to 
 their rule of faith, the New Testament, and I 
 was not disappointed. In those sacred pages 
 I read the confirmation in Christ's words and 
 those of the apostles of the assertions of the 
 Baptists. I found that such only as believed 
 in Christ were baptized and brought into the 
 churches, and that baptism was preceded by 
 going down into the water, and was called a 
 burial with Christ that it was an immersion. 
 I passed many days and often the nights also 
 in a careful study of what had begun to seem 
 to me the way of truth. 
 
 "Then after a while, and when my thoughts 
 were still troubled, there came the day when 
 my heart was opened to receive the light of 
 the Saviour's love. It was to me as if I 
 heard the word of God coming out of heaven, 
 calling me to some work for the Lord Jesus 
 a work of which I then only had the foreshad- 
 owing, but which I have now accepted in all
 
 MASTER HATHORNE'S FAMILY. 115 
 
 its fullness as my own. Since that day I have 
 striven to learn the duty God has laid upon 
 me, and now I have discovered that whereto 
 I am called, and as he shall help me I will try 
 to serve him faithfully to the end." 
 A little pause and then he continued : 
 "I know the troubles I am to expect as a 
 minister proclaiming the doctrines of a small, 
 despised, and persecuted people, but I trust I 
 shall have the strength requisite for my task. 
 I may be rejected of men, but so was Jesus 
 before me; I may be reviled and hated, and 
 may suffer pain both physical and spiritual, 
 but his agony was greater than mine can ever 
 be ; I may even be led to death, as others 
 have been before me, but I shall be at the 
 foot of that cross whereon the Son of man 
 breathed out his life for me, and if I may gaze 
 up into his face and hear from his lips the 
 blessed words, This day thou shalt be with 
 me in paradise,* gladly shall I suffer for his 
 sake." 
 
 The face of the youthful speaker shone with 
 the fervor of his hope. He had laid aside his 
 hat, and the breeze lifted his black hair from
 
 n6 MASTER HATHORNE'S FAMILY. 
 
 his brow and waved it back over his temples ; 
 his eye beamed with a heavenly radiance as 
 he spoke of the trial that might be in store for 
 him, and his cheeks wore a rosy flush. His 
 two friends looked upon him with a thrill of 
 admiration as he spoke so calmly of what he 
 hoped and feared, and when by a common 
 impulse their glance turned upon each other, 
 they as quickly shunned each other's gaze, as 
 if conscious of a secret to be possessed alone 
 by the individual soul. 
 
 Paul turned to John after a moment's silence, 
 and said in a tone of unfeigned joy : 
 
 " My dear old friend^ I shall have one at 
 least to remain with me, whatever may be the 
 issue of my other friendships. I know that 
 most of my other acquaintances here will 
 shun me indeed I have lost some of them 
 already but those I love best are mine still. 
 Ruth," and he turned suddenly to her, "you 
 too will not leave me?" 
 
 The maiden laid her hand in his and an- 
 swered, "No!"
 
 CHAPTER VII. 
 
 A STORM IN THE FAMILY. 
 
 1HE visit to Providence Plantations had 
 long been talked of by the little family 
 of our friends, and now, when at length 
 the project had become a settled plan, many an 
 evening was spent in discussing the subject and 
 in completing arrangements for the journey. 
 
 One evening a few days after the events 
 recorded in the last chapter, when the family 
 were assembled after supper and there had 
 been some talk about the event which en- 
 grossed the attention of all, Mr. Hathorne 
 laid aside the document he had been perus- 
 ing, and surprised Ruth by the announce- 
 ment that he had bought a horse for her use, 
 and that he had that day arrived in a small 
 vessel from England. He said that John 
 should ride with her on the following day, 
 
 nr
 
 IlS MASTER HATHORNE'S FAMILT. 
 
 and he hoped she would be satisfied with the 
 animal. 
 
 The tears sprang quickly to her eyes as 
 Ruth thanked her father for his valuable gift ; 
 yet it was with a feeling almost of annoy- 
 ance that she recognized his thoughtful at- 
 tention to her wants, for now she must dis- 
 close to him disagreeable tidings that might 
 put a stop to their journey and render his gift 
 of no avail for the immediate purpose for 
 which it was bought. Neither she nor John, 
 from a natural dislike of imparting disagree- 
 able news, had informed their father of Paul's 
 important decision. But now they both felt 
 that the discovery could no longer be deferred. 
 Thus it was that Ruth had other feelings than 
 mere pleasure and gratitude awakened by her 
 father's kindness. She had little doubt that 
 her father would forbid her journey when he 
 knew of their friend's change of opinion, and 
 it was with the more sorrow that she learned 
 of his care for her ease and comfort while 
 upon the road through the wilderness. She 
 arose from her seat at the opposite side of the 
 table and came round to him. Then she put
 
 MASTER HATHORNE'S FAMILT. lit,- 
 
 her arm about his neck as she stood by his 
 chair and kissed him before she spoke. 
 
 What is there in a woman's kiss so calm- 
 ing to the spirit, so purifying to the soul? I 
 think a wicked man could not withstand that 
 potent charm from the lips of a mother, a 
 wife, a daughter. His sin must shrink back 
 within itself, and leave at least a little room in 
 his heart for good to enter and occupy as its 
 abiding-place. 
 
 "Father, I have something to tell you," 
 Ruth began. "Perhaps this journey which 
 we have been planning so long a time, and 
 for which you have provided me with this 
 beautiful present, may never be made. You 
 will object, I know, to have me go so far from 
 home with one whom you will look upon as 
 no longer a proper companion. Paul has de- 
 clared himself the heretic you feared so long 
 ago he would become. He told us all, John 
 and myself, when we were sailing in the 
 harbor a few days ago. If you reject him as 
 an unsafe companion for your children, I 
 k low you will do so admiring the frankness 
 with which he has refused to allow them to
 
 130 MASTER HATHORNE'S FAMILY. 
 
 make this journey with him while his true 
 sentiments were concealed. His purpose is 
 to become a member of the Baptist Church in 
 Providence when he arrives there, and his life 
 is to be passed in the ministry of the truth as 
 he believes it." 
 
 Mr. Hathorne remained silent for a moment ; 
 then springing hastily to his feet, and thrust- 
 ing his daughter rudely aside, he paced the 
 room in a storm of angry excitement. His 
 children had never seen him so excited before, 
 and indeed it generally required strong, very 
 strong reason to arouse to such a degree the 
 dormant fires of indignation in the staid Pu- 
 ritan character. It was with surprise and 
 sorrow that the two eldest witnessed this 
 unusual outbreak of emotion ; and though 
 their reverence for their parent was undi- 
 minished, they could never reflect upon the 
 event of that evening without a feeling of re- 
 gret, of disappointment, mingled with their 
 love. 
 
 He had feared this from the first. He had 
 cherished a serpent in the security of his 
 home, and now the venomous reptile was
 
 MASTER HATHORNE'S FA MIL 1. 121 
 
 ready to turn upon its preserver. Do what 
 he might, the fact was undeniable, irrevoca- 
 ble he had nourished heresy beneath his 
 roof, he had soiled his fair fame by contact 
 with that sin which the church feared most, 
 Years of labor were undone ; his heart's best 
 hopes and desires were retarded in their ac-' 
 complishment ; and the cause of God, through 
 his means partly, had received a check. He 
 was ready to curse the day whose light had 
 brought Paul Wallingford to his dwelling, 
 and in his heart to renounce the friendship 
 whose obligation had presented the young 
 man to his attention. 
 
 At last, when he became a little calmer, 
 when the kiss, perhaps, was beginning to do 
 its work, Ruth went to him in the strength of 
 her filial affection and womanhood, and taking 
 his hand, she led him back to his seat. He 
 sat for a long time in moody silence, no one 
 daring to interrupt his meditations. Only 
 Ruth stood behind him, and smoothed his 
 gray hairs with her hand. 
 
 "Ruth," he said, slowly, "I believe the 
 
 young man has acted as his conscience, in- 
 11
 
 122 MASTER HATHORNE'S FAMILY 
 
 fluenced perhaps by the early instructions of 
 the mistaken people around him, has led him ; 
 but I cannot make any difference in my con- 
 duct on this account. He has evil in his heart 
 and poison in his tongue, and though I have 
 ever loved him in the past as a friend and as 
 a friend's friend, I cannot receive him beneath 
 my roof in the future. He sets himself as an 
 opposer of my church ; to me therefore he 
 can be no longer a friend. He has my good 
 wishes for the future, but henceforth his path 
 and that of me and mine through life must be 
 different. John, you of course- are at liberty 
 to proceed as you think fit ; as for Ruth, she 
 will remain at home this summer, and as I 
 forbid your friend my roof, I shall expect her 
 to see him no more." 
 
 This was all. The family Bible was 
 brought, and with unmoved countenance Mr. 
 Hathorne proceeded with the closing service 
 of the day, and then the members of the house- 
 hold with sad hearts separated for the night. 
 
 Ruth slept little, for her disappointment was 
 a heavy one, and the pleasant dream of months 
 was not to be dissipated without much sorrow.
 
 MASTER HATHORNB'S FAMILY. 123 
 
 She had anticipated with so much joy the 
 pleasure and excitement of the journey; she 
 had longed so much for a renewal of the close 
 intimacy that had sprung up years before be- 
 tween herself and the sweet-tempered daugh- 
 ter of Mr. Williams, and she had not feared 
 that her friend Mary, though her senior by 
 more than a decade and separated from her 
 for so long a time, would forget one who had 
 loved her so dearly. But now it must all be 
 given up thought of no more for it could 
 only bring her mind fresh regret, disappoint- 
 ment, and pain. 
 
 Nor was this all ; she was sorry that their 
 young friend would be wounded and possibly 
 his affections estranged by this severe act of 
 her father. She knew the susceptibility of 
 his feelings, and that so great an affront 
 would be deeply felt, even though he under- 
 stood that it was not any personal reason that 
 had caused his banishment from their family 
 circle. On the other hand, she was glad that 
 his college course was finished, for now per- 
 haps his duties would not require his piesence 
 in the Bay, and thus the want of what he had
 
 124 MASTER HATHORNE'S FAMILT. 
 
 formerly enjoyed would be felt less ; and if 
 John would still make the journey as antici- 
 pated, it would be a proof to Paul that all 
 hearts were not estranged from him. At last, 
 just as the gray light began to dawn, her 
 weary eyes closed in sleep. 
 
 As was very natural, Mr. Hathorne was 
 hardly satisfied with himself. His rest, too, 
 was for a time much disturbed, and before he 
 slept he began to wish he had not been so 
 hasty, though he did not repent of the man- 
 date given that Paul should no longer be 
 received beneath his roof. He had no 
 personal objection to the young man ; he had 
 respected and even loved him, as he said, 
 and it troubled him that he had made his 
 rejection of his friendship so severe. He 
 even regretted that he had forbidden his 
 daughter her anticipated pleasure ; though 
 he thought he should not be sorry ultimately, 
 if in reality, as he suspected, there was an 
 attachment springing up between her and 
 Paul. But as for this, he had noticed of 
 late that Grace claimed a larger share of the 
 young man's attention than her elder sister,
 
 MASTER HATHORNE'S FAMILY. 125 
 
 and he really entertained no serious fears 
 upon this point. 
 
 Besides all this, he had promised that his 
 daughters should visit him who had been 
 so good a friend to him in Providence. 
 He could not now withdraw his promise with- 
 out stating his reasons. It was likely that his 
 refusal to let Ruth make the visit and his 
 conduct toward Paul would entirely estrange 
 Mr. Williams from him. This alone was an 
 important consideration with him, but there 
 were other considerations, for he had business 
 interests which were somewhat under the con- 
 trol of Mr. Williams and others in Providence. 
 In trading with the natives, Mr. Williams 
 held the first place in their confidence and 
 esteem ; and this good feeling for their friend 
 Mr. Hathorne had used to good advantage, 
 and it would now be a great detriment to his 
 interests to lose so powerful an alliance. Mr. 
 Williams, though unable to enter the colony 
 of the Bay from the prohibition of the govern- 
 ment, had consented nevertheless to assist 
 Mr. Hathorne in this way, and one purpose 
 
 of John's visit to the Plantations was to com- 
 11
 
 126 MASTER HATHORNE'S FAMILY. 
 
 plete further business arrangements there 
 through the good man's influence. 
 
 Considering all things, therefore, the mind 
 of Mr. Hathorne was not a little disturbed, 
 and as reflection continued he found the more 
 cause to wish he had not been so hasty. 
 
 If Ruth upon her sleepless bed could have 
 known all that was passing in her father's 
 mind, perhaps she would not have seen so 
 much cause for disappointment and regret. 
 But unfortunately she did not know her 
 father's character well enough to admit of 
 more favorable hopes. 
 
 When the family assembled around the 
 breakfast-table, Ruth greeted her parents in 
 the usual way, and wore her accustomed 
 cheerful mien, though the faces of the others 
 had not lost the shade left by the unpleasant 
 incident of the night before. Mr. Hathorne 
 was stern and grave, seldom speaking during 
 the meal, and casting upon the rest a gloom 
 which the cheerful face of Ruth and the forced 
 gayety of Grace could not dissipate. When 
 he arose from the table, he said to John and 
 this was the only allusion to the subject
 
 MASTER HATHORNE'S FAMILY. 127 
 
 "John, I shall expect you to go to Provi- 
 dence as arranged, so you can continue your 
 preparations." Then he went away to his 
 warehouse. 
 
 Mr. Hathorne was not wholly hypocritical 
 in character ; though, as may be seen, mingled 
 in large proportion with his true love for the 
 church and its religion was a veneration for 
 worldly interests that one would not expect to 
 find in a heart unfeignedly devout. In those 
 days the church was so closely connected 
 with every department of life, and held such 
 great influence in affairs of government, that 
 it would have been impossible for a man of 
 Mr. Hathorne's aspirations to meet with any 
 success outside of its pale. Therefore, while 
 he was really interested for the welfare of his 
 church, he still was keenly alive to his own 
 requirements ; and by taking a very promi- 
 nent stand in religious matters, he sought to 
 advance at the same time the cause of the 
 Puritan and the interests of the private in- 
 dividual. None of his fellow-townsmen, how- 
 ever, would have suspected him of any but 
 the most disinterested motives, and, indeed,
 
 128 MASTER HATHORNE'S FAMILY. 
 
 he himself was hardly aware of the near 
 approach he made to the scribe and Pharisee. 
 Let us not judge him too harshly. The whole 
 tendency of the times was, perhaps, such as 
 would readily lead to this great error ; and if 
 a man like Mr. Hathorne, respected and 
 honored alike as a man and Christian, was 
 led into it, let us hope that his eyes were 
 blinded by the fanaticism of the day. 
 
 There was a change in his demeanor at 
 noon. The firm frigidity had departed, and 
 his face relaxed once or twice into a genial 
 smile. He spoke, too, of John's departure 
 with some interest, and even went so far 
 as to express regret that Ruth must remain. 
 He said he hardly thought it safe to send her 
 away under such pernicious influences, though 
 of course he had every confidence in her 
 Christian steadfastness. The storm was over, 
 and perhaps the sun would yet shine again, 
 though not as brightly as before. 
 
 In the afternoon two horses were brought 
 to the door with a message from Mr. Ha- 
 thorne that John was very busy, and he him- 
 self would accompany his daughter upon her
 
 MASTER HATHORNE'S FAMILY. 129 
 
 ride. He wished to see for himself the excel- 
 lence of the newly-purchased animal. While 
 Ruth was dressing he returned, and was 
 ready when she issued from her room. 
 
 It was a happy ride for Ruth, in spite cf 
 her disappointment. They took the road out 
 over the Neck, and thence through Roxbury 
 by a woody, winding way to Cambridge, and 
 home by the ferry across Charles River. The 
 horse, a fine black animal, with clean limbs, 
 small head, and full, broad neck and breast, 
 was in every respect satisfactory, sure-footed 
 and swift, afraid of nothing, though at first 
 a little timid about entering the boat on the 
 river, and gentle enough for a lady's use. 
 Ruth was delighted ; and her warm ex- 
 pressions of admiration, coupled with her 
 gratitude to her father for his gift, were all 
 that was needed to determine Mr. Hathorne 
 that he had been unnecessarily severe to de- 
 prive his daughter of so great a pleasure as 
 her journey would be to her. Ere they alight- 
 ed at their door he had almost decided to 
 allow their former plans to be carried out. 
 
 "I have changed my mind," he said, sud-
 
 130 MASTER HATHORNE'S FAMILT. 
 
 denly, in the evening, as he sat in his happy 
 home surrounded by his family; "Ruth 
 shall go with John. If I cannot trust my 
 children to remain firm in the faith of their 
 father when exposed to such slight opposing 
 influence as young Wallingford's generous 
 nature will give them, I can have little confi- 
 dence in the principles themselves which con- 
 stitute that faith. But God forbid that the 
 taint of heresy should come upon them ! 
 
 "As I said last night, I have always re- 
 spected Wallingford. I can no longer extend 
 my hospitality to him. Nevertheless, I pity 
 him, and pray for him that his errors may 
 be brought to his clear sight ; and I tell you 
 frankly, my daughter, it is with this end in 
 view, as one of my reasons that I send you 
 with John, that the influence may be strong 
 upon this mistaken young man, and that he 
 may yet be reclaimed." 
 
 Ruth tearfully thanked her father and went 
 away to her room. Poor, foolish little heart I 
 as she had not slept before for sorrow, so to- 
 night she lay awake from very joy.
 
 CHAPTER VIII. 
 
 THE JOURNEY TO PROVIDENCE. 
 
 |AUL came no more to Mr. Hathorne's 
 dwelling, no more to the roof he had 
 rejoiced to call his home ; and though 
 he had expected to be shut out by its doors, 
 now that he actually found them closed against 
 him the world seemed darker than he had 
 thought it would. In the solitude of his little 
 room at college the sense of loneliness pressed 
 so heavily upon him that he was glad he was 
 so soon to leave it for his distant home. John 
 had ridden over to see him the morning after 
 Ruth's ride with her father, and had told him 
 everything that occurred the day before. It 
 was some comfort to Paul that both John and 
 Ruth were as much his friends as ever, and 
 he was surprised as well as rejoiced that their 
 journey with him was not to be given up 
 
 131
 
 f3 2 MASTER HATHORNE'S FAMILT. 
 
 but it was none the easier to bear that he 
 must no longer see them save at the rare in- 
 tervals when John could ride over to Cam- 
 bridge, and Ruth But he should not see 
 her again, probably, until they met for their 
 journey. 
 
 It was yet three weeks before the collegiate 
 year would close and they would leave Boston, 
 but the time passed quickly enough to Ruth 
 and John, busied as they were with the prep- 
 arations necessary for such an important event ; 
 and even to Paul, though so lonely and some- 
 times almost disheartened, it did not seem so 
 very long, for there was much to hold his at- 
 tention his closing examinations, his prepa- 
 ration for the commencement, and his pro- 
 vision for departure. Paul saw Ruth but 
 twice before they were to set out for Provi- 
 dence. Once, as Mr. Hathorne was riding 
 with his daughter past the college, they met 
 him in the street ; when he bowed Ruth smiled 
 a glad recognition, but her father passed him 
 by without notice. The second time was on 
 commencement-day that day of so much im- 
 portance in the little colony, when every one
 
 MASTER HATHORNB'S FAMILY. 133 
 
 who could leave home or business, though re- 
 quiring weeks of anxious preparation, pressed 
 on eagerly to Cambridge to attend upon the 
 exercises of the occasion. Paul had seen 
 John earlier in the morning, but he did not 
 know of Ruth's presence until he ascended 
 the stage to deliver his oration. Then his 
 eyes met hers. Her calm, thoughtful face 
 was full of eager expectation, and as he 
 gazed upon it he was conscious of a thrill of 
 delight passing through his frame. He felt 
 that his audience had vanished away, that in 
 that one attentive listener was centred all his 
 interest. The eloquent words fell from his 
 lips with a pathos seldom known within the 
 walls of the old building, and his deep, clear 
 voice, in perfect modulations, was like music 
 to the ear. When he finished there was a 
 breathless silence for an instant, and then a 
 loud murmur of admiration ran through the 
 assembly. Paul heard but did not heed it. 
 He was already pressing his way to where 
 Ruth sat, and though he could speak but a 
 word with her, for the crowd was passing 
 from the building and her father's voice spcke 
 
 12
 
 1 34 MASTER HATHORNE'S FAMILY. 
 
 to her from a little distance, he counted her 
 welcome smile of approbation of more value 
 than all the applause of the multitude. 
 
 So at last the day came when they were to 
 leave Boston. It was a bright, pleasant day, 
 the soft breezes murmuring through the trees, 
 and the birds caroling their praises to the God 
 who had made the world so beautiful. Ruth 
 arose with a glad heart as soon as the early 
 light peeped in at the window. There were 
 still a few things remaining to be done her 
 chickens to be fed for the last time for many 
 weeks ; the mossy seat beneath the rose- 
 covered bower in the garden to be visited, the 
 place where so many happy hours had been 
 passed with her mother and Grace ; then re- 
 turning to her room, there was her Bible to 
 pack and the last charges to be given to 
 Grace, whom she awoke with a kiss ; there 
 were " good-byes" to be said through her 
 sister to many a fair friend, and messages too 
 many to be all remembered ; and last, when 
 little Willie, sleeping in his bed, had been 
 kissed and the horses stood waiting at the 
 door, when the breakfast had been tasted
 
 MASTER HATHORNE'S FAMILY. 135 
 
 but not eaten, and all were assembled to bid 
 the travelers farewell, her mother hung so 
 long and fondly on her neck that Ruth almost 
 wished she could give up the journey, even at 
 this late hour, and let John ride away alone. 
 But quickly her brother called her from the 
 courtyard, and almost before she knew it she 
 was in the saddle and waving a last adieu 
 with her little gloved hand as they rode out 
 into the street. 
 
 We have iron horses now and a clear, level, 
 unobstructed way over which we can speed 
 at the rate of twenty miles an hour toward 
 the city that Roger Williams founded more 
 than two centuries ago. To us it may seem 
 worthy of a smile that emotion should be ex- 
 cited by a parting for so short a distance as 
 that which can be annihilated by a two hours' 
 pleasant ride. But let it be remembered that 
 in the days of our story it was a journey of 
 perhaps four or five days, by rough and, in 
 many places, perilous roads, oftentimes so 
 winding that they would turn again toward 
 the point from which they had set out ; and 
 after the traveler had gone beyond the vicinity
 
 13^ MASTER HATHORNE S FAMILT, 
 
 of the settled towns only foot-paths through 
 the thick forests would lead to his destination. 
 It was an undertaking of some danger for 
 Ruth, and she felt that, before the end of the 
 journey was reached, she should need all the 
 strength and fortitude she could summon to 
 her aid. It was no light thing for men to un- 
 dertake the passage of a wilderness haunted 
 by wild beasts, and possibly hostile Indians ; 
 and no expedition of the kind was ever made 
 without an abundant supply of firearms and 
 a strong band to use them. For a woman, 
 then, it was doubly difficult, and a task not 
 very often attempted. Our friends, however, 
 had completed the necessary arrangements 
 very satisfactorily, and they anticipated .no 
 trouble during the three or four days they 
 should spend on the way ; and though the 
 tears of the mother and daughter could not be 
 restrained at parting, the excitement of the 
 road soon banished all disquieting thoughts 
 from the mind of Ruth, and her spirits re- 
 gained their wonted flow. They were to 
 meet Paul at a point between Cambridge and 
 Watertown, where the guide was also to join
 
 MASTER HATHORNE'S FAMILT. 137 
 
 them ; thence they were to proceed the rest 
 of the way together, their party having been 
 completed by this meeting. 
 
 Before they arrived at the appointed place 
 they met Paul, who had grown tired of wait- 
 ing for them, and had ridden slowly in the 
 direction from which they were to come. He 
 was accompanied by Long Solomon, who 
 was to act as their guide through the forest. 
 The stern face of the red man was lighted up 
 by a passing gleam of intelligent joy as he 
 greeted Ruth with his extended hand after 
 the manner of the pale faces, but his satisfac- 
 tion was so suppressed and its manifestation 
 so momentary, in accordance with the native 
 stoicism of the Indian character, that Ruth 
 did not notice it. Paul, however, who was 
 better acquainted with the man's habits, and 
 who watched his countenance narrowly as 
 Ruth spoke to him, was gratified by what 
 he saw, for he knew that their safety for the 
 journey depended in great measure upon the 
 Indian. He was pleased, therefore, to see 
 his evident interest in Ruth. 
 
 After a few minutes' delay the party pro- 
 12
 
 138 MASTER HATHORNE'S FAMILY. 
 
 ceeded on their way, taking up now the order 
 of march that they intended to preserve during 
 the whole journey. Though as yet his services 
 were not required, since they would have a 
 good road for many miles, Long Solomon 
 took the advance, moderating his pace to 
 the speed of the party. The Indian was on 
 foot, but he had the red man's power of 
 endurance, and he found no difficulty in 
 keeping by the side of those who were 
 mounted. Following in the rear of Solomon 
 and in the immediate van of the party, were 
 two hardy Puritan yeomen, who had been 
 engaged to accompany the expedition for the 
 better protection 01 the travelers. Each of 
 these men was armed with a musket slung at 
 the back, a sword and pike, the latter at 
 least ten feet in length besides the spear- 
 head at the end. After them rode John and 
 Paul with Ruth between them, while the 
 rear was brought up by two friendly Indians, 
 whose confidence had been tested during the 
 Pequod war, and who often served upon occa- 
 sions like the present. 
 
 John was mounted upo-n a strong and heavy
 
 MASTER HATHORNE'S FAMILY. 139 
 
 roan, an animal devoid of any trace of beauty, 
 but well adapted to the rough travel of the 
 wilderness. The young Puritan's accoutre- 
 ments were all of a like character, utility 
 alone having been consulted in their prepara- 
 tion and disposal about his person. He wore 
 at his side a sword, as did the other white 
 men of the party, and two formidable pistols 
 were at his saddle-bow, ready for his hand at 
 an instant's notice. 
 
 Ruth's whole appearance was in striking 
 contrast to that of her brother. Her slight 
 figure was habited in a plain dress of gray, 
 which fell at the side of her horse in flowing 
 folds that waved gently backward in the 
 breeze. A case containing a cup and a 
 small platter of silver, for her use at meals, 
 was strapped upon the horn of the saddle, 
 while a small leathern roll at the back of the 
 saddle contained all the other conveniences 
 for the journey. 
 
 Paul was well equipped in every respect, 
 riding an iron-gray horse of tried endurance, 
 and being even more fully armed than John. 
 He was in the best of spirits, overjoyed at
 
 140 MASTER HATHORNE'S FAMILY. 
 
 meeting Ruth again and at the prospect of so 
 pleasant a journey to his home. 
 
 They rode only a few miles beyond Water- 
 town, when a halt was made because of the 
 excessive heat. It was their plan to travel 
 during the earlier and later hours of each day, 
 thereby lengthening the time of the journey, 
 but escaping the great fatigue of summer 
 travel over the rough roads and difficult 
 bridle-paths which they would have to follow. 
 A little apart from the road, beneath the pro- 
 tecting shade of some tall chestnuts that formed 
 a grove by themselves, they alighted and dis- 
 posed themselves to get what rest they could 
 for the few hours they should remain. Pau) 
 found an uncovered and twisted root thai 
 formed a sort of natural seat, and here Ruth 
 was comfortably settled, with the two young 
 men reclining near her upon the soft turf. 
 Withal, it was a picturesque group. 
 
 The horses were tethered in the back 
 ground, and near them stood the two sturdy 
 men, the guard of the party, leaning idly 
 against a huge trunk and conversing in low 
 tones ; the three Indians were stretched at
 
 MASTER HATHORNE'S FAMILY. 141 
 
 length on the sward in a group by themselves, 
 their easy attitude determined by their native 
 grace. At a little distance a pure spring 
 bubbled up from beneath a large overhang- 
 ing rock, and after spreading out in a pool of 
 clear brightness, the waters rippled over a 
 pebbly bed till they were lost among the 
 trees. 
 
 Our young people were fully alive to the 
 beauties of the scene, and for some time, as 
 often the perfection of nature is best enjoyed 
 in silence, they did not break the quiet with 
 their voices. At last it was noticed that Solo- 
 mon had withdrawn from his companions and 
 was following the little stream away into the 
 forest. Paul marked the fact, and asked one 
 of the natives whom he called to him if the 
 pool before them was called the Cold Water 
 of Spring-time Saunko-paugot Sequan in the 
 melodious Narragansett tongue. The answer 
 was in the affirmative, and explained to Paul 
 the reason of Solomon's departure ; and as 
 they rested beneath the shade, he told the 
 others the Indian's story. 
 
 In earlier years, when still the white man
 
 142 MASTER HATHORNE'S FAMILY. 
 
 had not leveled the trees of the forest nor 
 frightened the timid deer from their leafy 
 haunts, when the man who was now old had 
 seen but twenty summers, he had been a man 
 of note in his tribe. In their significant lan- 
 guage he was known as the Snake of the 
 Forest, wily, watchful, deadly as the reptile 
 whose name he bore. The aim of his arrow 
 was sure, its poison fatal ; and whether in the 
 hunt or upon the war-path, it needed but the 
 name of the Snake to be known in the band, 
 and every heart was confident of success. Thus 
 for ten years more, after the landing of the 
 white men at Plymouth, the Indian chief was 
 untamed ; but then there came a day when 
 the man who would only take the Indians' 
 lands by fair purchase invited the Snake to a 
 conference. The fierce native had never be- 
 fore looked upon the face of a white invader 
 of his realms with aught but fury in his eye, 
 but now his savage heart was not proof 
 against the righteous dealings, the kind con- 
 sideration, the winning mildness of Roger 
 Williams. As the hearts of all the natives 
 brought into contact with that peculiarly gifted
 
 MASTER HATHORNE'S FA MILT. 143 
 
 man were allied to his in friendship, so the 
 cunning Snake of the Forest, the sworn 
 enemy of the pale-faced foe, yielded to the 
 benign influence, and was glad of the white 
 man's love. From that day there was a 
 change in the stern chief's character. He was 
 still successful in the hunt ; his name was no 
 less a terror to his enemies than it had ever 
 been ; but his enemies were fewer ; he sought 
 more the friendship of the whites, particularly 
 striving for further intercourse with the man 
 who had gained his love. It was one summer 
 while he was encamped in the neighborhood 
 of the trading-post established by Roger 
 Williams that an event occurred which in- 
 fluenced greatly his future life. An epidemic 
 malarious fever broke out in his tribe and 
 snatched away the lives of hundreds of those 
 about him. Day after day the braves fell; 
 there was no way of meeting this destroyer ; 
 the cunning and the bravery of the Snake 
 could do no good ; he must be passive and 
 witness the ghastly stride of Death without 
 an attempt to check his progress. The chief 
 sat in the door of his tent and saw his people
 
 144 MASTER HATHORNE'S FAMILY. 
 
 die. Soon the living would be too few to 
 bear away the dead ; soon he too should lie 
 beneath the ground with his bow at his side 
 and the arrows resting on his breast. Then 
 at last there came some help. The white 
 father learned of their distress, and moved 
 from lodge to lodge, his presence bringing 
 hope and often the beginning of a return of 
 health to the dying. Slowly the disease 
 began to abate, but it was not till the red 
 man's heart had been well stricken ; the 
 youth, his only son, his pride and hope for 
 the future, the destined chief of his people, 
 had been taken from his side, and his lodge 
 was vacant. 
 
 As the season came, the broken chief with 
 the poor remnant of his tribe departed for 
 their hunting-grounds farther in the interior 
 of the country ; and as the years passed on 
 the evil began to be repaired and his people 
 approached their former number. But the 
 heart of the red man never recovered the 
 blow given it by the hand of God. His 
 family had perished ; the braves with whom 
 he had trodden the war-path so often had
 
 MASTER HATHORNE'S FA MILT. 145 
 
 been destroyed ; the high rank of his tribe was 
 gone for ever ; his pride was extinguished, 
 and he hoped no more. 
 
 At last, in one of the seasons when he was 
 encamped near Providence, the man whom 
 this poor son of the forest almost worshiped 
 came to visit him in his lodge. While partak- 
 ing of his hospitality, Mr. Williams, as was 
 his wont, conversed cheerfully with him of 
 the religion of Christ. This was not the first 
 time the chief had listened to the good man's 
 words, but now his soul was ready for God's 
 blessing. He saw how unsatisfactory was 
 the religion of his fathers, how powerless it 
 was to console and heal the broken heart. 
 He listened entranced to the simple words 
 that fell from the good man's lips, and when 
 he departed from his dwelling, he prayed him 
 to teach him further of the Master whom he 
 longed to serve. Several times after this the 
 Indian sought interviews with his friend, and 
 he treasured up in his heart the instruction he 
 received. Then for days he wandered in the 
 forest, avoiding the companionship of his 
 fellows, particularly that of his tribe. The 
 n K
 
 146 MASTER HATHORNE'S FAMILT. 
 
 solitude of the woods awed his soul ; the God 
 of the white men was everywhere, even here 
 with him as he sat by his fire at night ponder- 
 ing the mighty truths that were taking fast 
 hold upon his soul ; and, more than this, Christ, 
 the Son of God, was speaking to him, telling 
 him of his death for man. At length, as it 
 comes to the heart of every chosen one, the 
 conviction came to him that for love, for 
 infinite, holy, divine love for poor sinful man, 
 God's Son could even die ; and in that death 
 he saw the proof of the love of Jesus to him- 
 self. Then he returned to seek his friend, 
 but in this he was doomed to disappointment, 
 for Mr. Williams had sailed the day before 
 upon his first voyage to England. Without 
 counsel, but acting in accordance with the 
 promptings of his heart, he returned to his 
 tribe. He told them of the change in him- 
 self; of his long struggle and of the new God, 
 the only true and great Father, the ever- 
 blessed Saviour whom he had found. He 
 had not expected the storm of fury that burst 
 upon him from those who had been accustom- 
 ed to submit to his authority. In his brief
 
 MASTER HATHORNE'S FAMILY. 147 
 
 absence an enemy had risen up to dispute his 
 sway, and now this man stirred up the people 
 against him, seizing eagerly the pretext offer- 
 ed by his chief's abjuration of the religion of 
 his ancestors. Stung to the quick by the 
 ingratitude of his people, the forsaken chief 
 wandered away into voluntary exile. He had 
 now no friend but God, but as he turned his 
 back upon the familiar lodge, his heart, 
 though filled with sadness, yet found no dis- 
 appointment in the love of his Saviour, and he 
 was glad because this Friend would be always 
 the same, not only for this life, but for the great 
 future beyond the grave. 
 
 The haunts of the red man were now for- 
 saken. He came to look upon the beautiful 
 town- near the mouth of the Mooshausick as 
 his home, for there he found that true sympa- 
 thy that he so much needed. Here he dwelt 
 for years, subsisting upon the products of his 
 skill in the hunt, and occasionally acting as a 
 guide to travelers between the settlements, 
 and ever adding from day to day to his know- 
 ledge of the great truths whose cause he had " 
 espoused.
 
 148 MASTER HATHORNE'S FAMILY. 
 
 At last, in the year 1650, he was employed 
 to conduct the Reverend John Clarke and his 
 companions upon their journey to the bay, and 
 on this eventful occasion his conviction became 
 settled that it was his duty to unite with 
 the body of Christians in whose midst he had 
 dwelt so long, and whose doctrines his simple 
 mind found no difficulty in accepting. The 
 heart of the man was touched by the persecu- 
 tion his friends suffered in Boston by their 
 imprisonment and the fines imposed upon 
 them or the alternative of public scourging. 
 When he was to conduct Mr. Clarke back 
 again to Newport, he informed him of his 
 desire to become a member of the visible 
 church of Christ ; and with his native im- 
 petuosity he requested that he might be 
 baptized at once. Upon their way they 
 came to the beautiful spring of water by 
 which this story was now told, and the 
 Indian, leading the way along the course 
 of the little stream for nearly a mile, until 
 it spread out into a little lake, was baptized 
 in the name of the Father, the Son, and the 
 Holy Ghost.
 
 MASTER HATHORNE'S FAMILY. 149 
 
 It was evident to both of his listeners, now 
 that Paul had told them the history of their 
 guide, whither Solomon had gone, and the 
 eyes of Ruth filled with sympathetic tears as 
 she thought of the lonely red man sitting by 
 the side of the waves beneath which he had 
 been buried in baptism, recalling to his mind 
 the blessed hour and pondering upon the joys 
 and the terrible sorrows of the past. His 
 history had been varied its commencement 
 brilliant, and its later years solitary and sad, 
 yet surrounded with a halo of peace such as 
 the world can neither give nor take away. 
 Hence it impressed her mind forcibly, and 
 gave rise to a feeling of affectionate regard 
 and almost reverence for the man which she 
 had not hitherto possessed. But her thoughts 
 could not dwell longer upon this subject, for 
 her brother and Paul were discussing with 
 animation a theme that had been suggested 
 by a part of the story to which she had just 
 listened. She had often heard mentioned 
 the visit of the Rev. Mr. Holmes of Newport 
 and his companions to Lynn ; but as the event 
 
 had taken place some time before the arrival 
 is
 
 150 MASTER HATHORNE'S FAMILT. 
 
 of Mr. Hathorne's family, all the circum- 
 stances had not come to her knowledge. 
 
 " It was with clear foresight of this very 
 thing," Paul was saying, " that Mr. Williams 
 wrote and published his work in 1644. 'The 
 Bloody Tenet' was a prediction, fulfilled 
 somewhat sooner, probably, than its author 
 anticipated ; for I do not think he dreamed 
 that in only seven years' time Baptists would 
 be cruelly whipped, and a little later 
 Quakers would be hung. I admit that in 
 this case of the persecution of Clarke, Holmes, 
 and Crandall there was some provocation 
 upon their part, but a provocation so slight 
 as not to warrant the punishment inflicted. 
 Had it not been for the spirit of the * Bloody 
 Tenet' existing in the hearts of the magistrates 
 and ministers of the Bay, a servant of God 
 visiting an old and sick brother, even though 
 he held religious worship at his host's house, 
 would never have been punished." 
 
 "If it had been only as you say, there 
 would have been little excuse for the conduct 
 of the government," John replied. "But 
 Clarke was well aware that his presence in
 
 MASTER HATHORNE'S FAMILY. 151 
 
 the bay would create trouble. He had left 
 the colony, fourteen years before, under cir- 
 cumstances that made his departure little else 
 than a voluntary banishment, and for seven 
 years a law had existed under which he 
 could expect nothing but punishment if he re- 
 turned. A man of such keen judgment, of 
 intelligence and resolution, ought to have hesi- 
 tated long before disturbing willfully the peace 
 of a community. I have always suspected, 
 too, that he timed his visit more in reference 
 to political troubles than to the necessities of 
 his sick friend. I confess I may be uncharita- 
 ble in saying this, but I fear it is the truth." 
 
 Paul's face wore a shadow of displeasure. 
 
 "I have heard this charge made before," 
 he said, his dark eye flashing, "but I beg you 
 to dismiss such a thought as unworthy of re- 
 tention. I acknowledge that appearances 
 would support the charge ; Coddington was 
 expected daily with his commission from 
 England, and Clarke must have known that 
 by his own persecution in Massachusetts the 
 Baptists at his home would be excited to op- 
 pose the ascendency of the man who was
 
 152 MASTER HATHORNE'S FAMILY. 
 
 plotting to unite the colony of pure, religious 
 liberty with the confederacy that represented 
 oppression and tyranny. But it is only his 
 enemies that charge him with this wicked- 
 ness, for it is nothing else. I did not know 
 him then, of course, for I was too young to 
 take an interest in such an event or in the 
 actor, though he often visited my father's 
 house; but for the last five years I have 
 known him well, and I believe there could be 
 nothing farther from his heart than to take 
 any part in so disgraceful an action. His 
 character is too eminently Christian for him 
 to consent to such a means of obtaining a 
 political end. But consider the improbabilities 
 that he would do so, even if he could be base 
 enough. His sacred office, his recently ac- 
 quired position as assistant in the government, 
 the influence he had gained also from his resi- 
 dence in their midst for fourteen years, gave 
 him a prominence in the eyes of his friends 
 that would have given the greatest weight 
 to any opinions he might have expressed. 
 Would he have given up the sure means of 
 personal labor against the opponent of his
 
 MASTER HATHORNE'S FAMILT. 153 
 
 principles, by meeting him face to face and by 
 urging on his friends to his own support, for 
 the uncertain influence which the action of 
 another colony would have upon the minds 
 of those he wished to move, while he himself 
 was so far distant from them? It is more 
 than improbable." 
 
 "I am glad you have removed the un- 
 pleasant conviction I had," John returned, 
 candidly; "though I am sorry that my opin- 
 ions of the action of the magistrates must be 
 changed for the worse. But it still seems to 
 me your friends were wrong to violate the law 
 existing against them, and to take those steps 
 which they knew would exasperate their ene- 
 mies and disturb the colony.** 
 
 "I agree with you partially. They might 
 have forborne to preach in Mr. Writer's house, 
 except to him and his family, though I cannot 
 think they were absolutely wrong in doing so, 
 particularly as they took no pains to assemble 
 a congregation and as there were only four or 
 five strangers present at most. But it is evi- 
 dent to me they were right in going to Lynn, 
 for the law of God is higher than the law of
 
 154 MASTER HATHORNE'S FAMILY. 
 
 man ; and if, by its teaching, Mr. Clarke saw 
 it to be his duty to visit his brother, who was 
 sick, aged, and liable to persecution at any 
 moment, and while with him to hold religious 
 services for their mutual comfort and to ad- 
 minister the sacrament, it was but a practical 
 recognition of the superiority of divine over 
 human law." 
 
 "You know my sentiments have changed 
 lately in regard to the proceedings of states 
 against individual conscience, and so I cannot 
 approve the arrest made for this cause. But 
 the penalty affixed by the government was 
 not wholly undeserved. The conduct of 
 Clarke in the meeting was such as to pro- 
 voke the authorities and give them reason to 
 make the punishment severe." 
 
 " I have no doubt they were angered," 
 Paul said, smiling a little, " and I am ready 
 to make this excuse for them. But consider 
 the case. Two constables arrested the party, 
 and then, before taking them to prison as 
 common criminals which they afterward did 
 for no other purpose, it seems to me than 
 to insult them, they led them to the meeting
 
 MASTER HATHORNE'S FAMILY. 155 
 
 and forced them to enter. What could they 
 do under such circumstances? By force they 
 were made to partake in a service to which 
 they could lend neither assent nor recogni- 
 tion ; and when Clarke, after the close of the 
 exercises, boldly and manfully asserted his 
 dissent and explained truthfully the reason of 
 his presence, he performed a duty which he 
 owed to his conscience and to the principles 
 for which he was called to suffer." 
 
 John did not seem disposed to contest the 
 point further, and as they were at that moment 
 summoned to the noonday meal, the subject 
 was dropped. Enough had been said, how- 
 ever, to start a train of thought in Ruth's 
 mind that was to have a great influence 
 upon her future life. 
 
 Paul, who acted as the leader of the 
 party, intended to advance a few miles farther 
 and pass the night at a little log-house about 
 a mile from their direct path, where a beauti- 
 ful sheet of water spread out between the hills 
 and offered facilities to the Indians for spear- 
 ing fish for their supper. Accordingly, they 
 set out again as soon as the heat became less
 
 I5 6 MASTER HATHORNE'S FAMILY. 
 
 oppressive, when the sun was within two or 
 three hours of the horizon. At this rate their 
 course would be slow, but Paul was determin- 
 ed to make the journey as much like a pleas- 
 ure excursion for Ruth as possible. 
 
 As they left the chestnuts that had afforded 
 them such grateful shelter from the noonday 
 heat, John rode forward a few paces and fell 
 into conversation with the two men who ac- 
 companied the party, and the three Puritans 
 took little heed of the others behind them. 
 Ruth seized the opportunity to ask Paul, who 
 was still at her side, about the event which 
 had formed the subject of conversation be- 
 tween John and himself in the morning. She 
 was glad John was engaged apart from them- 
 selves, for she was unwilling to lead the two 
 young men into another discussion, thinking 
 it better that little should be said between them 
 upon questions relating to their different re- 
 ligious beliefs, at least during this journey. 
 
 Then Paul told her the story of the per- 
 secution of those three men in the year 
 1651.
 
 CHAPTER VII. 
 
 THE STORY OF OB AD I AH HOLMES. 
 
 j|E began by laughingly telling Ruth 
 that he had resolved to shun every 
 attempt to make her or John a prose- 
 lyte to his own faith, since her father had 
 tacitly trusted his honor in this respect by al- 
 lowing her to make the journey, and there- 
 fore, if he should say anything tending to 
 such a result, she must bear the responsibility. 
 Ruth laughed gayly, the merry sound causing 
 John to turn and smile in sympathy. She 
 said that there was little need of even guard- 
 ing against such a result. Then as they rode 
 together, each forgetting the company of the 
 others, he spoke, in substance, as follows : 
 
 There was a little body of Baptists at Lynn, 
 in 1640, who continued still to reside there 
 
 14 157
 
 1 58 MASTER HATHORNE'S FAMILY. 
 
 after the passage of the law against them, 
 their orderly ways and their avoidance of 
 all efforts to force their views upon public 
 notice gaining some degree of tolerance from 
 the government. One of these Baptists, 
 William Witter by name, an aged man and 
 ill, sent a message to the church in Rhode 
 Island, praying for the visit of some of the 
 brethren, that his old age might not be with- 
 out the comfort and counsel to be afforded 
 only by those still engaged in the active duties 
 of a Christian life. His request was promptly 
 met by the appointment of three representa- 
 tives of the church, Messrs Clarke, Holmes, 
 and Crandall. Their hearts full of love and 
 Christian sympathy for the aged man whom 
 they were to visit, the three pursued their 
 journey, hardly thinking of the dangers to 
 which they were subjected, and little expect- 
 ing to be brought to so much suffering for 
 their deed of love. 
 
 Upon their arrival at Mr. Witter's house, 
 about two miles out of the town, as it was 
 Saturday, they arranged to spend the follow- 
 ing day in religious worship at their host's
 
 MASTER HATHORNE'S FAMILY. 159 
 
 dwelling. Accordingly upon the Lord's Day 
 morning Mr. Clarke began the services in the 
 usual manner, four or five of the neighbors, 
 also Baptists, having come together to listen 
 to the words for which they had long patiently 
 waited. The hymn was sung, the Scriptures 
 read and expounded, and the prayer uttered. 
 Then Mr. Clarke rose to preach from the text, 
 ' ' Because thou hast kept the word of my pa- 
 tience, I also wilt keep thee from the hour of 
 temptation, which shall come upon the world, 
 to try them that dwell upon the earth." While 
 illustrating the meaning of the text, the little 
 assembly was suddenly disturbed. The mag- 
 istrates had received intelligence of the pres- 
 ence of the strangers, and now the officers 
 were at the door to apprehend them. Sor- 
 rowfully they submitted and were led away, 
 for what trials they knew not. 
 
 With a refinement of insult hardly con- 
 ceivable, the officers forced their prisoners to 
 accompany them to the meeting-house, where 
 the congregation were assembled at worship. 
 Mr. Clarke and his companions plainly told 
 the constables what would be the necessary
 
 160 MASTER HATHORNE'S FAMILT. 
 
 result of such a proceeding ; but they were 
 deaf to all entreaty or remonstrance, evidently 
 anticipating some action on the part of their 
 prisoners that would be still further offensive. 
 When, therefore, the prisoners entered the 
 house of worship, "as those that first trusted 
 in Christ, to be obedient unto him both by 
 word and deed," they declared their dissent 
 from the doctrines of those into whose midst 
 they were forced by voice and gesture. From 
 the meeting they were conducted to the inn 
 where, as Mr. Clarke afterward wrote, they 
 were "watched over night as thieves and 
 robbers," and the next morning were taken 
 before the magistrate and committed to prison. 
 After a weary imprisonment of two weeks, 
 the court of assistants passed sentence upon 
 them. Mr. Clarke was to pay a fine of 
 twenty pounds, Mr. Holmes of thirty, and 
 Mr. Crandall of five, or be publicly whipped. 
 Neither of the persecuted men would consent, 
 by payment of the fine, to buy himself off 
 from the full measure of suffering which was 
 to be endured for the sake of Christ. They 
 were therefore remanded to prison.
 
 MASTER HATHORNE'S FAMILY. l6l 
 
 Contrary to the wishes of Mr. Clarke, and 
 without his knowledge, some of his friends 
 paid his fine, and he was soon released. Mr. 
 Crandall, released upon his promise of ap- 
 pearing at the next court, was not notified of 
 the time of its sitting, and his fine was ex- 
 acted of the keeper of the prison upon his 
 non-appearance. But Mr. Holmes was des- 
 tined to a worse fate. Detained in prison 
 until September it was July when he was 
 arrested the day for his punishment at last 
 came. He still refused to act save in accord- 
 ance with the dictates of his conscience, and 
 was bidden to prepare himself for his dis- 
 grace. In the morning his friends visited 
 him in prison, but to all their offers of refresh- 
 ment or of stimulants to prepare him for his 
 dreadful ordeal, he turned a deaf ear, fearing 
 lest the cause for which he suffered would be 
 injured if it should be said he was made 
 strong to bear his pain by aught else than the 
 love of Christ in his heart. With prayer and 
 inward communings of the soul with itself 
 and with its Lord, he awaited calmly the 
 appointed hour ; and when the keeper's voice 
 
 14* L
 
 1 62 MASTER HATHORNE'S FAMILT. 
 
 was heard in the passage, he took his Testa- 
 ment in his hand and rose to meet him. At 
 the place of execution he stood with un- 
 daunted mien and spoke to the people, de- 
 claring "the word of God and the testimony 
 of Jesus Christ" for which he suffered ; and 
 when, stripped to the waist and bound to the 
 cruel post, the blows of the three-corded whip 
 fell upon him, cutting the flesh with each 
 stroke so that the red blood ran in streams, 
 he still spoke, saying that though his flesh 
 should fail and his spirit should fail, yet his 
 God would not fail. 
 
 "You have struck me as with roses," he 
 said to the executioner when at last he stayed 
 his arm and loosed the 'bands that held the 
 sufferer to the stake. As he was borne back 
 to prison, two friends came and took him by 
 the hand, and expressed sympathy for his 
 condition ; the act was remembered and pun- 
 ished by fines. Mr. Holmes, faint and bleed- 
 ing, was borne to his cell, where a friend cared 
 for his wounds, while the sufferer soon became 
 insensible from his pain. 
 
 In a manuscript written a hundred years
 
 MASTER HATHORNE'S FAMILY. 163 
 
 ago by Governor Jenks, he says: "Mr. 
 Holmes was whipt thirty stripes, and in such 
 an unmerciful manner, that in many days, if 
 not some weeks, he could take no rest but as 
 he lay upon his knees and elbows, not able 
 to suffer any part of his body to touch the 
 bed whereon he lay." 
 
 We can hardly believe that such an event 
 as this took place in Boston but little more 
 than two centuries ago. With all the en- 
 lightment of the present age, with the bless- 
 ing of religious freedom as firmly in our pos- 
 session as any of the civil rights guaranteed 
 by government, it is with horror that the 
 darkness of those early days, the depth of 
 error and fanaticism, come to our considera- 
 tion. 
 
 Paul told the story without any attempt to 
 make the naked facts appear more horrible 
 than they naturally would to Ruth's mind. 
 When he had finished the recital they rode 
 on in silence, both feeling the sadness excited 
 by the contemplation of so dreadful a deed. 
 Paul could not help thinking that he might 
 yet be called upon to suffer like pain and dis-
 
 164 MASTER HATHORNE'S FAMILT. 
 
 grace should his duties of the future not be 
 confined to his own colony. Moreover, he 
 already loved the little band of brethren to 
 whose service he had consecrated his life, 
 and it was with inexpressible sorrow that he 
 thought of the fierce persecutions which they 
 were called to endure. 
 
 As for Ruth, her soul was filled with hor- 
 ror. Could it be possible that such a deed 
 had been enacted in sight, perhaps, of her 
 own home by the men upon whom she had 
 always looked as leaders in the cause of God's 
 love? Yes. She had forgotten for the 
 moment, so lost had she been in the thought 
 of this one deed, what her own eyes had 
 seen, what groans of anguish her own ears 
 had heard. She shuddered as she thought that 
 her father's hands might have been imbrued 
 in this innocent blood had their arrival been 
 a few years earlier ; and her cheek blanched 
 as she reflected that she herself, unwittingly 
 and tacitly it is true, had given her approba- 
 tion to such a deed by her membership with 
 the church which had performed it. Yet the 
 thought came to her instantly, she must keep
 
 MASTER HATHORNE'S FAMILT. 165 
 
 her place in its midst, for she did not doubt 
 the truth of its doctrines and the divine sanc- 
 tion of its ordinances. 
 
 She was glad when they reached the little 
 hut that was to serve as their shelter for the 
 night, for the preparations for rest recalled 
 her mind from the sad theme upon which it 
 was dwelling. Still, as the little party sat 
 at their evening meal about the shining blaze 
 of the fire and in the quiet of the sombre twi- 
 light, the thought of what she had heard 
 would steal in upon her mind, and the sight 
 of the bleeding victim, and of the distant wife 
 and children weeping for the absent father's 
 fate, more than once brought the tears to her 
 eyes. She could not sleep for a long time 
 that night, and when at last her eyelids closed 
 in slumber she dreamed that her father was 
 bleeding beneath the cruel blows before his 
 own door, and awoke with a cry of terror 
 upon her lips. 
 
 The next day it was much cooler than it 
 had been, yet with all their endeavors to take 
 advantage of the favorable w r eather they could 
 only advance about twenty miles ; yet they
 
 1 66 MASTER HATHORNE'S FAMILY. 
 
 were well satisfied at the progress they had 
 made when they came to encamp at night. 
 The next night they would sleep in Provi- 
 dence, having passed a much shorter time 
 upon the journey than they had anticipated. 
 
 The Indians constructed a shelter out of 
 bark and leafy boughs, within which Ruth 
 could be shielded from the dew. The night 
 in the depth of the forest was somewhat chilly, 
 although it was the middle of summer. So, 
 at an early hour, Ruth wrapped herself in a 
 warm cloak, lay down upon the rude couch 
 spread for her, and soon fell asleep. Paul 
 and John sat up much later by the fire, con- 
 versing in low tones, the former occasionally 
 singing to himself the words of an old Latin 
 hymn on which he had spent many happy 
 leisure hours, attempting to translate it into 
 English that should preserve at once the 
 spirit and rhythm of the original. John 
 could not have translated the words, though 
 he knew their meaning, for Paul, with whom 
 the grand old hymn was a favorite, had often 
 repeated it in his presence, and had once, at 
 his request, given him a translation. Now
 
 MASTER HATHORNB'S FAMILT. 167 
 
 the shadowy silence of the night was broken 
 by no sound save the deep voice of the singer, 
 who chanted the verses in a low tone to 
 melodious music which his own correct taste 
 had applied. 
 
 After he had ended there was a little 
 pause, when John said to him : 
 
 "Paul, I pity your lot, that your convic- 
 tions of the right must lead you to unite with 
 a down-trodden and persecuted sect. When 
 we were talking yesterday of the sufferings 
 of Mr. Clarke and his companions, I won- 
 dered how you could recall such an event 
 with so much calmness ; and I tried to place 
 myself in your situation, to think what would 
 be my feelings if I could look into the future 
 and read there for myself either the anguish 
 of an unsatisfied conscience or the certainty, 
 almost, of trouble and persecution. Paul, 
 I respect the manhood that can so rely upon 
 itself; and though I cannot assent to the doc- 
 trines of which you are a defender, I believe 
 that in that future rest you will have the sceptre 
 and the crown of a child of God. We are 
 going now to your home, but if you ever
 
 1 68 MASTER HATHORNE'S FAMILT. 
 
 have occasion to come again to Boston, re- 
 member that you always have my sympathy 
 and friendship. I speak of this now, for this 
 is the last night we may pass together, and I 
 know not how much we shall see each other 
 at Providence." 
 
 Paul pressed his friend's hand in silence, 
 while his eyes were filled with grateful tears. 
 He felt peculiarly to-night the need of just 
 such a friendship as this, for he knew not 
 what the morrow might have in its keeping 
 for him. He was going to his home, it was 
 true, but it was a home where no mother's 
 kiss would greet him, where only his father's 
 welcome awaited him a welcome that he 
 feared might soon be turned into a father's 
 frown, for his son had yet to tell him of the 
 disappointment of his hopes, of the change 
 that had come over the future of both. Paul 
 trembled as he thought that he might be 
 doubly an orphan ere another night should 
 succeed the day, and it was with joy that he 
 now had the assurance again given him that 
 all his earthly friends would not fail him in 
 his trouble.
 
 MASTER HATHORNE'S FAMILY. 169 
 
 After a silence of a moment, Paul thanked 
 his friend in tremulous tones, and said : 
 
 "The words of the hymn which I sang say 
 there all will be rest and glory, however the 
 troubles of the world may vex us here. There 
 we shall see our everlasting Friend, whom 
 each of us is trying to serve in his own way 
 the way which he believes is shown to him by 
 God. There may be error here, but the hymn 
 says that all doubt shall there be dissolved, 
 and we can only live here in the hope of that 
 glorious day. Ah, John, what a blessing our 
 faith is ! I wonder any one can live without 
 it ! It is a marvel to me that I could so long 
 do without its beautiful hopes, its longing de- 
 sires, its blissful satiety. Oh, my friend, it is 
 a thing to suffer for, it is a thing for which to 
 give up one's life, if the glorious cause re- 
 quire." 
 
 The young man had risen to his feet as he 
 spoke, his face glowing with enthusiasm and 
 his black eye kindled with the flame of de- 
 vout and holy zeal. John was electrified by 
 the deep and powerful feeling manifested by 
 his friend. He arose from the ground and 
 
 15
 
 17 MASTER HATHORNE'S FAMILT. 
 
 stood by his side ; then taking his hand in his 
 own, he said : 
 
 " I too, Paul, if my God demands it of me, 
 am ready to follow him to death. Paul, here 
 to-night, beneath these shadowy arches of the 
 vast temple in which we stand, let us dedicate 
 ourselves again to his service, whatever we 
 may find it to be in the future." Then after 
 a little pause, he continued, as he linked his 
 arm in that of his friend and commenced 
 walking back and forth before the fire : 
 "Paul, I am troubled. I would not have her 
 know it," he said, glancing hastily toward 
 Ruth, who still was sleeping sweetly, "but I 
 have thought much of late of the faith you 
 have accepted as your own. I am in the 
 strait of Mr. Mitchell, the minister at Cam- 
 bridge, who said, after his conversation with 
 President Dunster, that 'unreasonable sug- 
 gestions' would obtrude themselves upon his 
 thought; but, unlike him, I cannot ascribe 
 them to the devil. Give me your help, Paul. 
 Tell me again the truth as you believe it." 
 
 Paul was surprised beyond measure. Could 
 it be that so great a blessing was in store for
 
 MASTER HATHORNE'S FAMILY. l?i 
 
 him? Was this young man, so eager for the 
 right, so strong in spirit, no longer to be ar- 
 rayed against his persecuted brethren, but to 
 become a defender of their faith? He hardly 
 dared to hope it ; still he was not deceived ; 
 John was asking him again for the truth of 
 the word of God. Paul sat down by the fire, 
 and taking a Testament from his pocket, he 
 began to read some passages to his com- 
 panion. 
 
 After he had read several parts of the 
 Gospels which relate particularly to that 
 doctrine of the Baptists which had given 
 them their name, he closed the book and 
 turned to his friend with the simplest but 
 best argument for the faith upon his lips. 
 
 " I can add nothing," he said ; " the truths 
 that I have read to you are those on which I 
 found my belief, and it is to these truths, un- 
 supported by any other evidence than that the 
 word of God is true, unaided by subtile argu- 
 ment or profound logic, that I am willing to 
 entrust the faith I have accepted as my own. 
 The waves of opposition may roll and dash 
 against it from your councils, but I fear not
 
 /7 2 MASTER HATHORNE'S FAMILY. 
 
 the security of the word. Human reason can 
 not touch this truth. It is solely the possession 
 of divine revelation ; it is a law from which, 
 to my mind, there is no appeal, and the 
 decree of synods, even the usages of antiquity, 
 can in no way affect its authority. I have de- 
 termined, John, through all my course to rely 
 upon this argument alone for the support of 
 my faith, for it is impregnable." 
 
 " Is this all, then, that you have to urge?" 
 John asked, with a shade of disappointment 
 upon his face. 
 
 "This is enough," Paul answered, gazing 
 earnestly upon his companion's face. "Others 
 would undoubtedly press other claims. I sup- 
 pose President Dunster must have canvassed 
 all the ground to have made such a man as 
 Mr. Mitchell admit as much as you have 
 mentioned he did. But I am willing to leave 
 my cause with you, relying for its support 
 solely upon the truth of the Bible solely 
 upon the foundation God himself has given 
 it." 
 
 "But I am not sure that the original is 
 correctly translated in these instances."
 
 MASTER HATHORNE'S FA MILT. 173 
 
 "You are willing to accept the translation 
 for other parts of the Bible. I only ask you 
 to accept this as candidly, though it opposes 
 your opinions. Besides this, the validity of 
 the translation is questioned by very few 
 scholars. It is not upon this point that the 
 arguments of your church are founded, at 
 least the arguments most worthy of considera- 
 tion. It is freely admitted by many of your 
 best representatives that infant baptism has 
 not the authority of the Scriptures, but they 
 found their belief in it upon ancient custom, 
 upon church history, as they say. Even 
 admitting that they have the authority of the 
 ancient church which, I think, is far from 
 being true you will agree with me upon 
 deliberation that the ground will not bear 
 comparison with the Scriptures. This one 
 of our doctrines is strong enough in the great 
 authority we claim for it, and we have no fear 
 that the worth of that authority will ever 
 fail." 
 
 " But this is only one of the points in which 
 you differ from us," said John. 
 
 " Another is what you have already ac- 
 
 15*
 
 174 MASTER HATHORNE'S FAMILY. 
 
 cepted : Freedom of conscience and the 
 separation of Church and State. Besides this, 
 and the doctrine that the immersion of be- 
 lievers is the only baptism of the New Testa- 
 ment, we hold that the sacraments are in- 
 operative without faith, and that conversion 
 alone can entitle one to membership. These 
 are the most important principles of the Bap- 
 tist faith." 
 
 The young Puritan sat in silence, his head 
 resting upon his hand, engaged in deep 
 thought. He cared not now for a support of 
 these doctrines ; the mere enunciation of 
 them was enough to occupy his mind with 
 attendant thoughts and rivet his attention in 
 their study. He had never before known so 
 clearly what the tenets of this persecuted 
 people were ; the doctrine of baptism by im- 
 mersion and the denial of infant baptism were 
 points in the Baptist creed which were par- 
 ticularly distasteful to the Puritan mind, and 
 these other articles of faith were generally 
 but little considered ; it was enough for the 
 intolerant spirit of the times that the sect was 
 polluted by one stain of heresy, and this stain
 
 MASTER HATHORNE'S FA MILT. 175 
 
 was black enough to throw all others into the 
 shade. It was for the first time, then, thai 
 John Hathorne now thought of these doc- 
 trines, which have been, since those early 
 days, the cherished belief of so many of 
 God's children. As he looked upon them 
 and pondered them now, he was surprised 
 that he found so little in them that was really 
 contrary to his own views. He saw that they 
 were greatly at variance with the teachings 
 of his own church, but of late he had learned 
 not to trust so implicitly to the truth of those 
 teachings, for he had found his personal ex- 
 perience taking him beyond their reach in 
 some instances. 
 
 One of his most cherished recollections was 
 of the time when a great change had taken 
 place in his life, when religion had suddenly 
 assumed a new aspect to him and when his 
 soul had received a new blessing, as he al- 
 ways termed the peaceful love of God and 
 Christ that filled it with joy unspeakable. 
 Now he asked himself whether this was the 
 conversion upon which the Baptists placed so 
 much stress. He had loved God before this
 
 17 6 MASTER HATHORNE'S FAMILY. 
 
 change, he thought; but his heart told him 
 that there was a new, a better, a holier love 
 dwelling in it now a love recognizing as its 
 origin the bleeding heart of the Saviour of 
 men. Yes ! there had been a change, a con- 
 version something of more value to him than 
 any other event of his life ; and if it was this 
 upon which the Baptists founded the right to 
 church membership, he must believe with 
 them. This was the new birth of the third 
 chapter of John. This it was to believe ; but 
 to "believe and be baptized," ah ! he was not 
 yet ready for that. When the question ad- 
 vanced to this point, the old, old objection 
 came up : How could so many great and good 
 men be mistaken in a practice of centuries? 
 Surely he could not go astray if he followed 
 in the footsteps of his fathers ! He lifted his 
 eyes, as he thought, and they fell upon the 
 form of their native guide ; instantly the old, 
 old objection was met and answered for ever ; 
 the savages of the forest, for generations he 
 knew not how many, had followed in the 
 footsteps of their ancestors, but their ways 
 were only ways of black darkness and error
 
 MASTER HATHORNE'S FA MILT. If? 
 
 "The sacraments inoperative without faith." 
 He found himself repeating the words over 
 and over again. What did they mean, except 
 that the institution of the church was not for 
 the fostering of sin? that the protection of its 
 fold was only for the believers in Christ? that 
 the broken body of the Saviour was given for 
 the nourishment of those that received him, that 
 had faith in his atonement? 
 
 Far into the night the young man sat by 
 the fire and communed with his thoughts. 
 The flames died away, and the smouldering 
 embers emitted now and then a faint flash of 
 light, that shone dimly upon his face. Paul 
 had long since wrapped himself in his cloak 
 and thrown himself down to sleep. The 
 young Puritan was alone, and the silent 
 grandeur of the forest solitude began to awe 
 his soul. Imperceptibly at first his thoughts 
 began to be recalled from the attentive study 
 tD which they had been devoted ; the fire was 
 too low for the emission of heat, and a chilly 
 sense of loneliness made the silence oppres- 
 sive. He made an effort still to follow out 
 the train of thought which he had been last 
 
 M
 
 178 MASTER HATHORNE'S FAMILY. 
 
 pursuing, but his attention had become avert- 
 ed, the terrible silence still forced itself upon 
 his mind, and he found the attempt vain. 
 
 Perhaps that mysterious influence so often 
 exerted upon the mind by which sleep can 
 be broken by the mere presence of a person 
 standing over the slumberer by which, too, 
 the thoughts are directed to a friend who has 
 been absent many months but the next moment 
 speaks in our presence may have caused his 
 temporary uneasiness. He was just about to 
 rise and retire to the shelter provided for him, 
 when a low whisper startled him. It came 
 from the guide, who was lying upon the 
 ground a few feet from where he was sitting. 
 He had thought the Indian was asleep, but 
 now the words came directly to John's ear : 
 
 " Go ! Be still ; lie down and make sleep I 
 Solomon watch !" 
 
 John had presence of mind enough to follow 
 out the Indian's instructions with manifest 
 composure, and in a few minutes was, to all 
 appearance, in a sound sleep.
 
 CHAPTER X. 
 
 THE TREACHEROUS ATTACK. 
 
 j|OR nearly an hour all was still, wh.le 
 John Hathorne lay quietly in a feign- 
 ed slumber, all his nerves upon the 
 stretch to catch the first signs of the approach- 
 ing danger. He began to think the Indian 
 must have been mistaken in his fears at the 
 time there were no hostilities between the 
 natives and the colonists and was somewhat 
 at a loss to account for Solomon's sudden 
 alarm. The only thing that occurred to him 
 as in any way possible was the approach of 
 some one of the small bands of Indians, 
 marauders, hardly belonging to any tribes, 
 which at very rare intervals had been known 
 to attack travelers for the sake of booty or 
 ransom of the captives that might be taken. 
 
 Neither John nor Paul had noticed the ab- 
 
 179
 
 I So MASTER HATHORNE'S FAMILY. 
 
 sence of the Indians of the party early in the 
 evening, so engaged had they been with their 
 conversation. But though they were unaware 
 of the threatened danger, they had a trusty 
 guard in the person of their native guide. 
 He did not allow it to escape him that the 
 other two Indians stole away into the forest 
 after the encampment had been arranged for 
 the night. His keen eye had seen reason for 
 distrusting them through all the second day 
 of the journey, and now he followed their 
 trail with stealthy footsteps, darting from one 
 cover to another and just keeping their dusky 
 forms in view as they glided away into the 
 depths of the forest. Thus he followed them 
 for nearly two miles, when suddenly a light 
 gleamed through the openings of the woods 
 and the objects of his pursuit stood in the 
 presence of a band of eight stalwart Indians. 
 Then creeping with noiseless tread near to 
 the council-fire, he listened to the traitors ; 
 plans. They were to attack the party that 
 night and in the confusion that would ensue 
 rob them of what little baggage they carried. 
 The two traitors were to set fire to the half-
 
 .MASTER HATHORNE'S FAMILT. iSl 
 
 enclosed hut where Ruth was sleeping, and 
 then, under the pretext of taking her to a 
 place of safety, were to bear her away to a se- 
 cure haunt to be retained until a large ransoi; 
 saould be paid. The plan was well laid ; the 
 two would return at once and lie down to 
 sleep at a seasonable hour, and be ready 
 for the approach of their companions at an 
 advanced hour of the night. 
 
 Solomon learned it all, and his own ex- 
 perience taught him all that must be known 
 in addition, and he hoped to be able to destroy 
 their hopes and keep his little party unharm- 
 ed, though his foes were more than twice the 
 number of his own force. He sped back 
 to his place by the camp-fire with only time 
 enough to assume a position of negligent ease 
 before the return of the two Indians. When 
 he uttered his whispered warning to John, he 
 was so near him that there was no possibility 
 of the treacherous red-skins hearing his voice, 
 for contrary to the usual custom they had 
 thrown themselves down for their feigned 
 slumber at a little distance from the guide 
 and the party, though still near enough not 
 
 16
 
 1 82 MASTER HATHORNE'S FAMILT, 
 
 to excite suspicion. All had their weapons 
 where they could seize them at an instant's 
 warning, so that the carefully arranged arms 
 of the two hostile Indians and of Solomon 
 could have awakened no mutual distrust. 
 
 For nearly an hour all was still in the forest. 
 Then John caught the note of a distant whip- 
 poor-will. Soon it was repeated, and a few 
 minutes after he heard it again, a little nearer. 
 So this strange whip-poor-will continued slowly 
 to approach, until its note was quite near and 
 loud enough to draw the attention even of one 
 who had not been listening for it. 
 
 John had felt the time had come, for what 
 he knew not. The bird hushed its signal 
 note. All was perfect stillness. His eyes 
 half closed, John lay in almost breathless 
 suspense, his lips compressed, his heart beat- 
 ing quickly and a cold chill of fear running 
 through his frame. Yet the young Puritan 
 was brave. The coward is he only who 
 yields to his fear; the hero trembles in the 
 presence of danger, but still shrinks not from 
 the performance of his duty. 
 
 He had not long to wait. The sharp re-
 
 MASTER HATUORNE'S FAMILY. 183 
 
 port of a musket reverberated through the 
 forest arches. In an instant all were aroused 
 and upon their feet, arms in hand. John 
 called to his companions to keep close to the 
 guide and obey him in everything, and then, 
 saying one word of encouragement to Ruth 
 as he passed by, he rushed to the aid of 
 Solomon and the two Puritan guards, who 
 were surrounded by more than double their 
 number, and who had as much as they could 
 do to defend themselves with their pikes and 
 swords. The contest was so close and the 
 attacks of the red-skins so vigorous that the 
 smaller firearms could not be used, and John 
 and Paul could not have recourse to these 
 weapons nor to the muskets for fear of wound- 
 ing their friends. 
 
 The impetuous rush of John and Paul for 
 an instant bore back the assailants, and two or 
 three of the Indians darted to the cover of 
 neighboring trees; but Solomon had closed 
 with one of his foes, and they were locked in 
 a struggle for life, each trying to prevent his 
 adversary from drawing the keen knife from 
 his belt. Paul's quick eye detected the gleam
 
 184 MASTER HATHORNE'S FAMILT. 
 
 of a blade behind a tree which the two com- 
 batants were rapidly nearing in their struggle. 
 Leaving John and two soldiers to cope with 
 the three or four opposing them, he sprang to 
 Solomon's relief; but no sooner was this move- 
 ment observed than the sharp report of a 
 musket sounded on the air and a ball whizzed 
 past his ear, fired by one of the red-skins from 
 the cover he had sought. Undeterred, Paul 
 raised his sword to thrust the guide's antago- 
 nist through; the blade descended, but with 
 uncertain aim, for a quick, sudden sting un- 
 nerved his arm, and he only succeeded in 
 giving the savage a wound upon the shoulder. 
 This was enough, however, to give Solomon 
 a little the advantage and to allow him time 
 to see that Paul was at his side. 
 
 "Back! back!" he cried, with a gesture 
 of alarm. " Ladee ! Care ladee ! Solomon 
 kill these Injin man !" 
 
 Paul comprehended in an instant the guide's 
 fears. He turned to hasten to Ruth, whose 
 safety he had taken for granted if the fierce 
 attack of the enemy could be frustrated. But 
 now as he turned to retrace his steps his heart
 
 MASTER IIATHORNE'S FA MILT. 185 
 
 sickened within him, for suddenly a bright 
 light leaped up from the little lodge where he 
 had left her, and in the glow he saw two 
 dusky forms spring into the doorway and seize 
 upon the maiden. He leaped forward, but he 
 was stayed in his course. Two savages threw 
 themselves in his path with their empty mus- 
 kets clubbed and raised above him. His first 
 impulse upon seeing the Indians in the lodge 
 was to draw a pistol from his belt, though he 
 could not fire before the Indians seized upon 
 Ruth. The weapon was still in his hand, 
 and instantly a bullet pierced the heart of the 
 red-skin nearest him. Still he had more than 
 a match in the other savage. A gleam of 
 triumph flashed across the stern features of 
 his foe, as his raised musket descended with 
 a murderous blow; but Paul's raised sword 
 broke the force of the shock, the faithful 
 weapon falling to the ground, shattered to 
 pieces. Still he did not escape wholly, for 
 the heavy stock fell upon his right shoulder, 
 striking him to the earth. His head swam 
 as he sank down, and the last thing he re- 
 membered to have seen was the poor maiden 
 
 16
 
 l86 MASTER HATHORNE'S FAMILY. 
 
 still struggling with her captors amid the 
 dancing flames. Then all was dark. 
 
 The savage drew the glittering knife from 
 his belt and stooped over the young man's 
 prostrate form. He turned the body over on 
 its face, but before his dreadful purpose could 
 be accomplished he fell backward with a bullet 
 through his brain. John raised his friend and 
 supported his head upon his hand, and as Paul 
 opened his eyes he told him that the fight was 
 over and the Indians fled. 
 
 "There goes the last of the rascals" 
 John's face was turned away from the burn- 
 ing lodge " and they've had enough of their 
 bargain. Three dead, and as many pretty 
 badly used, though they have managed to get 
 away. They found us better prepared than 
 they expected." 
 
 Paul started quickly from his friend's sup- 
 port and sprang to his feet. "Ruth!" he 
 cried. " Where is she?" and then without 
 waiting for an answer, he staggered away 
 toward the spot where he had last seen her, 
 struggling in the hands of the savages. 
 
 John sprang quickly with a cry of pain and
 
 MASTER HATHORNE'S FAMILY. 187 
 
 terror, and followed him. It had been but a 
 half minute since he had put his own antago- 
 nist to flight and sped to the rescue of Paul, 
 and not an instant had he had for thought. 
 The bright light of the flames had sprung up 
 while his every energy was upon the strain in 
 defence of his own life, and it had escaped 
 him that it was the lodge that was burning. 
 Indeed, all that we have related took place in 
 so short a time, only a few minutes, and the 
 danger of each combatant was so great, that 
 no one of the party, save the guide, had any 
 regard to the things outside of his own vicinity. 
 Everything had been done by instinct, upon 
 mere impulse ; and indeed, had any one 
 thought of Ruth, nothing could have been 
 done ; the assailants were too many, and as in 
 Paul's case the attempt would have been vain. 
 But now all were roused to a sense of the 
 danger they had neglected the greatest 
 danger of all. The ruins of the little lodge 
 were still burning, throwing a faint light over 
 the place of their encampment, but the maiden 
 for whom the shelter had been made was no- 
 where to be found.
 
 CHAPTER XI. 
 
 THE RESCUE OF RUTH. 
 
 |AUL only advanced a few paces, and 
 then fell heavily to the earth ; his 
 eager feet refused their office, a 
 dizziness came over him, and he felt with 
 inexpressible pain that he could not join 
 in the efforts made for Ruth's recovery. 
 The others pressed on and left him. He 
 saw them pause by the burning embers at 
 a little distance from him, and after a hurried 
 consultation commence searching, .in a large 
 semicircle behind the spot where the lodge 
 had been, for traces of the flight of the miss- 
 ing one and her captors. As the little party 
 of three held this hasty conference it struck 
 Paul for the first time that Solomon was no- 
 where to be seen ; the dead Indians lay 
 
 188
 
 MASTER HATHORNE'S FAMILY. 189 
 
 where they had fallen, the savage with 
 whom the guide had been engaged lying 
 farthest from Paul, but still near enough 
 for him to recognize the body; the guide 
 had not been killed, then, in the struggle, 
 and Paul gathered some hope from his 
 absence, for he knew that it could not be 
 without purpose. 
 
 John and the two soldiers were not long in 
 finding the traces they sought. A piece of 
 the fringe of Ruth's dress was found clinging 
 to a thorny bush, and a little farther into the 
 forest the light of the flaming pine knots, 
 which they used as torches, revealed a light 
 gray glove, dropped upon the ground. Now 
 the pursuers would find but little difficulty in 
 tracking the Indians, and perhaps overtaking 
 them before they had borne their captive far 
 away. They returned to Paul, to leave him 
 as comfortably and safely situated as possible 
 and to seek for the guide. But as Paul assured 
 them that Solomon must be already in pursuit 
 of Ruth's captors, they waited only to place 
 him at the foot of a huge oak, propped up by 
 blankets and wrapped in his cloak, with his
 
 190 MASTER HATHORNE'S FAMILY. 
 
 loaded weapons within reach of his hand, and 
 then left him to follow the trail. Paul saw 
 them disappear with a feeling of loneliness 
 and almost vexation. It was by no means 
 pleasant to be the only one left upon a desert- 
 ed battle-field, with the consciousness that the 
 enemy might return to carry away their dead 
 comrades, while his wounded shoulder very 
 sensibly reminded him that his right arm 
 would be of little use, should he have to 
 contend again for his life. But it was not 
 on this account that he was most troubled ; 
 it was with bitter vexation that he saw the 
 others depart on an errand in which he would 
 gladly have taken part, in which he felt he 
 ought to have, if not by right at least b} : 
 inclination, the first place. In the few hours 
 during which he was left alone with his own 
 misgivings, he came to a more thorough 
 knowledge of himself and his feelings. It 
 was vain for him to try to convince himself 
 that Ruth was not in any danger in the hands 
 of the savages ; that all that was to be feared 
 would be the effects of her own terror ; that 
 the Indians only wished to obtain a large
 
 MASTER HATHORNE'S FAMILY. 191 
 
 ransom for her. His heart was not so easily 
 to be quieted. Paul loved Ruth ; he loved 
 her as he had never known until this night ; 
 but now the whole force of his passion became 
 manifest to him as he sat in the darkness, 
 trying to calm his mind enough to implore 
 the divine Power to save her from her 
 danger. 
 
 But we must follow Ruth and her captors. 
 
 Awakened in excessive terror, she could do 
 but little besides watch with all anxiety the 
 defence her friends were making after they 
 had rushed to the encounter. She stood be- 
 neath the low roof, intent only on the danger 
 threatened from before, from the band of 
 savages which had made the open attack. It 
 was without any suspicion on her part, there- 
 fore, that the two traitors approached their 
 victim from the shades in the rear of the 
 lodge. She saw not the flickering light of 
 the fire-brands with which they ignited the 
 dry twigs and boughs of which the little 
 shelter was made, and before she could cry 
 out or flee from so unexpected a danger she 
 was standing in the midst of crackling flames.
 
 192 MASTER HATHORNE'S FAMILY. 
 
 Immediately one of the Indians called her to 
 rush from the danger and he would place her 
 in safety ; but it was no easy matter to obey 
 this warning. Her terror made her power- 
 less, and her strength failed her, as she 
 started to leap forward through the flames ; 
 at the instant the two savages sprang in and 
 drawing her hands behind her with a grip of 
 steel, dragged her hastily and rudely forth 
 into the forest. She could not call or cry out ; 
 ler mouth was parched ; she understood now 
 the whole position of affairs, and saw herself 
 in the hands of savages, doomed perhaps to a 
 long captivity. She was hurried away be- 
 tween her captors, their sinewy arms almost 
 lifting her from the ground. Her thoughts 
 did not desert her, however ; and bravely she 
 resorted to the only means that occurred to 
 her ready wit by which she could help herself. 
 They had gone but a few steps when she 
 managed to drop one of her riding gloves 
 without attracting the notice of her captors, 
 and a little farther on the veil, that she had 
 tucked into her belt upon the close of the 
 day's journey, floated away behind her as
 
 MASTER HATHORNE'S FAMILY. 193 
 
 she was hurried onward through the dark- 
 ness. It was with little hope that she took 
 these precautions, and she little knew that her 
 deliverance would depend entirely upon these 
 careful acts of presence of mind. 
 
 With the greatest possible speed the In- 
 dians pursued their way toward the spot 
 where the band had been encamped before 
 the attack. After proceeding nearly a mile, 
 they ventured to light a pine torch, which one 
 of them carried in advance, while the other 
 followed with Ruth. Their course was now 
 more rapid, and they soon emerged into the 
 little open space where the savages had been 
 encamped during the early part of the night. 
 Stopping only for a few minutes to give Ruth 
 a little rest and recruit her strength for the re- 
 mainder of their flight, they pressed on again 
 into the forest; but they had delayed long 
 enough to leave a trace of their presence. 
 Ruth had crouched by the few embers of the 
 dying fire, half reclining on the ground to re- 
 gain the strength she so much needed, and 
 one of her captors, thinking her cold in the 
 chilly dampness of the night, raked the 
 U N
 
 194 MASTER HATHORNE'S FAMILT. 
 
 smouldering fire together and roused the dor- 
 mant flame. Had he known that the pursuer 
 was already near, he would not have been 
 guilty of such an indiscretion. 
 
 Away through the forest solitudes, over 
 stones and through briers, they dragged the 
 almost fainting maiden. She could not speak 
 and implore the mercy of the savages, for a 
 leathern band had been placed over her mouth 
 when they had stopped early in the march to 
 light the torch. 
 
 Suddenly the light of the torch was thrown 
 back from a bare wall of rock, rising almost 
 perpendicularly for twenty or .thirty feet, and 
 crowned upon the summit with a dark mass 
 of shrubbery, embracing the rising trunks of 
 hemlock trees. Beneath this cliff they held 
 their way, and turning suddenly around its 
 curving base, came upon a little pathway lead- 
 ing up the steep. Ruth felt that this was the 
 end of their journey, that this forest fastness 
 was to be her prison, and overcome by weari- 
 ness and her utter hopelessness, she sank 
 heavily to the earth. Her captors bent over 
 her to raise her in their arms and bear her up
 
 MASTER HATHORNE'S FA MILT. 195 
 
 the pathway, but a quick, low sound made 
 them pause for an instant. Again it came, 
 nearer than before ; and they knew the pur- 
 suer was close upon them. More than this, 
 they knew with what a foe they would have 
 to deal, for the noise was not loud enough to 
 be made by a white man's foot ; it could only 
 be by the moccasined foot of a native of the 
 woods. Rudely and hastily they seized their 
 burden and sprang up the steep pathway, but 
 they were too late. 
 
 Solomon had no sooner rid himself of his 
 antagonist than his quick eye had taken in 
 all the situation. Instantly he flew to the 
 rescue of John, who was bravely contending 
 with two powerful red-skins, and who must 
 soon have fallen beneath their united efforts. 
 Then the blaze of the burning lodge forced 
 itself upon his notice, occupied as he already 
 was with his active foe, and he redoubled his 
 exertion, fighting with despairing energy. It 
 would have been death for him had he turned 
 to the defence of Ruth, but as he fought he 
 marked the spot where her captors entered 
 the forest, and when his foe had watched his
 
 *9 6 MASTER HATHORNE'S FAMILY. 
 
 opportunity and turned to fly, he no longer 
 sought his life, but leaped forward to the pur- 
 suit as eagerly as the hound set free from the 
 leash springs onward to the chase. He found 
 the traces of their flight the fringe, the glove, 
 the veil and seeing instantly the direction of 
 their path, he pressed on at all his speed to the 
 camp he had visited once before that night. 
 Here the flames were still burning feebly, and 
 one glance at the embers was enough to con- 
 vince him that they had been recently disturb- 
 ed. But he was now at fault, though certain 
 that those whom he was seeking had been 
 there but a little while before. He searched 
 the vicinity of the point directly opposite that 
 at which he had entered the little open space, 
 but he found no trace of the fugitives, and he 
 was loth to keep on with no sign to guide 
 him. He knew of the cliff to which they 
 had really gone, but it was in a direction 
 nearly at right angles to their former course, 
 and he thought they would hardly lose time 
 by not proceeding directly thither. But in 
 searching a little in that direction he found at 
 last what he sought, for the briers had not
 
 Master Hathorne's Family 
 
 197.
 
 MASTER HATHORNE'S FA MILT. 197 
 
 only been an injury to the poor girl, but now 
 held up to her deliverer the tokens they had 
 so rudely wrested from her. The impatient 
 guide needed nothing more, but sped away to 
 the rescue. 
 
 He reached the cliff just as the savages 
 bore their helpless burden up the steep. His 
 foot no longer trampled in its haste the crack- 
 ling twigs ; silently, like a very ghost of 
 vengeance, nay 1 of recurring retribution, he 
 sprang up the pathway in the footsteps of his 
 victims. The glittering knife flashed for an 
 instant in the air and then was buried in the 
 heart of one of the savages ; the other turned 
 upon him for a minute and then glided swiftly 
 away into the forest. 
 
 Solomon raised the slight form from the 
 ground and bore it away in his arms. He 
 dared not delay for rest, nor could he follow 
 the same path in returning which he had kept 
 in the pursuit. Striking boldly into the woods 
 in a straight line for the place o f encampment, 
 he hurried away into the darkn :ss. 
 
 It was some time before Ruth regained 
 her consciousness, and not until she was far 
 
 17*
 
 198 MASTER HATHORNE'S FAMILY. 
 
 away from the haunt that would have been 
 her prison did she open her eyes and rec- 
 ognize her deliverer. The first gray light of 
 morning was peeping through the leafy arches 
 as the Indian halted for rest and placed his 
 burden upon a soft bed of moss beside a 
 spring of water. He smiled as she asked 
 him how he had found her and overcome her 
 captors, and in his brief, abrupt way he told 
 her of the rescue. And when the tears of 
 gratitude rilled her eyes as she called him her 
 dear, dear friend, the stalwart Indian became 
 uneasy, anxious to be upon the road again, 
 and Ruth laughingly arose to spare him his 
 honest confusion. Taking her again in his 
 strong arms, for she was still as weak as a 
 child, the guide hastened onward, and reached 
 the camp as the sun rose up from the horizon 
 and gilded the tree-tops with his golden-red 
 rays. A cry of welcome greeted them as 
 they entered the camp. John and his com- 
 panions had returned before dawn, discour- 
 aged and almost hopeless, and they had been 
 but little cheered by the intense anxiety that 
 was manifest in every act and word of Paul.
 
 MASTER HATHORNE'S FAMILY. 199 
 
 They had all agreed that their only hope lay 
 in the absent guide. Whether he was at work 
 for the rescue of Ruth, or whether he was only 
 engaged in the pursuit of the savages, that 
 they might not escape without severe punish- 
 ment, they could not tell. One of the soldiers 
 suggested that the guide too had played them 
 false, but neither John nor Paul would for a 
 moment entertain the thought ; they knew the 
 man too well. 
 
 But when Solomon strode into the camp 
 bearing the rescued maiden in his arms as he 
 would have carried a little child, they were 
 not prepared for so speedy a return, and the 
 Indian was fain to escape the united expres- 
 sions of gratitude that were heaped upon him, 
 pleading his need of rest and stretching him- 
 self out for a short sleep beneath a close cluster 
 of tall bushes.
 
 CHAPTER XII. 
 
 ARRIVAL AT ROGER WILLIAMS'. 
 
 |T was past noon when the little com- 
 pany entered the town in which their 
 journey was to end, and passed 
 through its quiet streets to the bank of the 
 beautiful river where stood the dwelling o f 
 Master Jacob Wallingford. Paul would hear 
 of no other plan than that all should proceed 
 at once to his home, to gain rest and refresh- 
 ment before Ruth and John should present 
 themselves before their friends. The master 
 of the house received them joyfully, greeting 
 them as his son's friends and expressing 
 without disguise the satisfaction he felt at 
 having them beneath his roof. As for John 
 and Ruth, they were much gratified at re- 
 ceiving so warm a welcome the more so 
 
 200
 
 MASTER HATHORNE'S FAMILT. 2OJ 
 
 because Master Wallingford's manner was 
 so much more unreserved than that to which 
 they had always been accustomed. His 
 welcome was free from that constrained, that 
 Puritan manner, which said so plainly that 
 not even reasonable joys the pleasure of 
 hospitality, of friendship, of brotherly love 
 were to be allowed the control of the mind 
 for an instant. 
 
 Mr. Wallingford, probably from his want 
 of sympathy with the strict Puritans in their 
 religious views, had gone even to the other 
 extreme, if the word may be used in speak- 
 ing of the easy manners of any one of that 
 day. 
 
 With the easy air of one in possession of 
 abundant wealth, half inviting, half expect- 
 ing his request to be regarded as a command, 
 he received his guests and conducted them 
 into his spacious dwelling. His son he 
 greeted with marked affection, devoting as 
 much attention to him as his courtesy to his 
 guests would admit, asking particularly of 
 all that had occurred since the time of the 
 last letter Paul had sent home. He did not
 
 202 MASTER HATHORNE'S FAMILY. 
 
 notice for a little time that the young mnn 
 appeared weak and ill, but finally, when a 
 chance word dropped by John brought it to 
 his attention, he became deeply anxious, and 
 as soon as his fears were sufficiently allayed 
 by the light way in which Paul spoke of his 
 injury, he flew off in a fierce denunciation of 
 the whole Indian race, expressing his utter 
 hatred of the whole family and wishing that 
 he might never see one of the red-skins again. 
 His indignation was not modified when he 
 learned that Ruth too had suffered at their 
 hands, and his anger was really getting the 
 better of his reason and surpassing the bounds 
 of common politeness to his guests, when a 
 ridiculous light was cast upon the whole 
 matter by Paul, who suggested to his father 
 that his trading operations depended some- 
 what upon the Indians, and it would be in- 
 convenient to have them annihilated at once. 
 Mr. Wallingford laughed good humoredly, 
 and devoted his attentions to the refreshment 
 of the wearied travelers. 
 
 It was not till late in the day that John and 
 Ruth departed for the house of their friend,
 
 MASTER HATHORNE'S FAMILY. 203 
 
 Master Roger Williams. Paul promised to 
 see them on the following day, and they left 
 him to reveal to his father the change that 
 had come upon his prospects, and a feeling 
 of sadness occupied their hearts as they saw 
 the first great storm-cloud of their friend's 
 life rising into view and already casting its 
 sombre shadow upon him. Paul knew their 
 thoughts and was glad of their heartfelt 
 sympathy ; and though he felt that he should 
 not see them again till his parent's frown had 
 fallen upon him, a smile rested upon his face 
 as he bade them farewell and turned back 
 into the house. So may the radiance of the 
 upright soul expel from the Christian's face 
 all trace of doubt or gloom in the hour of 
 deepest trial ! 
 
 The clattering of the horses' hoofs brought 
 to the window of the pleasant family-room of 
 Mr. Williams' dwelling the eager faces of 
 three children, who returned to their mother's 
 inquiry the answer that two strangers were 
 alighting at the door. 
 
 ' ' It must be our friends ! It is John and 
 Ruth I" exclaimed the good woman, and the
 
 204 MASTER HATHORNE'S FAMILY. 
 
 next moment her voice was heard in the hall 
 giving a warm welcome to the young people 
 as they entered. 
 
 * Praise the Lord our fears were vain 1" 
 she said, devoutly. " A rumor reached us at 
 noon that a party had been attacked by the 
 Indians, and that many had been killed. 
 Father said that God would have you in 
 his hand, and that our hearts must not be 
 troubled. But it is sometimes hard, dear 
 children, to do just as we ought, and even 
 father himself was at last so anxious that he 
 went out to make inquiries of some of the 
 people. We were not sure of your coming, 
 but we feared you were of the party. But 
 God hath brought you to us in safety. My 
 children, may his blessing be with you I" 
 
 She began helping Ruth to lay aside her 
 outer garments, after leading the way to the 
 room where she had been sitting. John went 
 with one of the children to see that the horses 
 were properly cared for, and to give some 
 directions to the two soldiers who had ac- 
 companied them on the journey. The two 
 guests felt perfectly at home, though they
 
 MASTER HATHORNE'S FAMILY. 205 
 
 had not seen their hosts for some years, for 
 the smile of welcome that had rested on the 
 face of Mrs. Williams when she had first 
 greeted them was so kind and loving and 
 motherly that they almost felt they had only 
 returned to another parent, whose warm heart 
 would cherish them as her own. 
 
 John had returned, and they had been sit- 
 ting for nearly an hour talking together of 
 all that had occurred since their visit long 
 ago, while Ruth was a child, when footsteps 
 were heard at the door, and Mrs. Williams 
 announced the return of her husband. Ruth 
 started quickly from her chair as she heard a 
 well-remembered voice in conversation with 
 Mr. Williams in the hall, but she as quickly 
 drew back and restrained her desire to run 
 and throw her arms about the neck of her 
 friend Mary, for Mr. Williams, the great Mr. 
 Williams he for whom she had conceived a 
 reverence amounting almost to awe would be 
 the witness of their meeting. She sank abash- 
 ed into her chair, and in another moment the 
 great man was before her. 
 
 He had greatly changed since she had last 
 
 18
 
 206 MASTER HATHORNE'S FAM1LT. 
 
 seen him. As she remembered him he had 
 a full, genial face, his hair and beard just 
 streaked with gray, his eyes bright and 
 piercing, and his lips firm, and hardly ever 
 relaxing into the benevolent smile that so 
 well became them. But now the glory of 
 years had been added to him. His step 
 had lost somewhat of its lightness ; his form 
 was a trifle bent; his long hair was of a 
 snowy whiteness, and he had now no beard 
 to hide his finely-turned chin or obscure the 
 bright smile that sat so often on his lips. It 
 was evident that his great labors, involving 
 often the necessity of exposure and want, had 
 performed their work in weakening his phys- 
 ical powers and undermining his strong con- 
 stitution, but at the same time each year had 
 given additional sweetness to a character al- 
 ways lovely ; and as the soul had grown more 
 beautiful, putting on a nobler form with the 
 passing time, so the outward man had gained 
 that serenity of aspect which is the glory of a 
 life advanced in years. 
 
 Ruth almost trembled as the good man 
 greeted her brother, cordially offering him
 
 MASTER HATHORNE'S FAMILT. 207 
 
 all the great hospitality of his home and in- 
 quiring affectionately after all those who had 
 been left in Boston ; but when he turned to 
 her and took her hand in his, and, with his 
 other hand resting upon her head as he look- 
 ed down into her upturned face, asked if that 
 was the Ruth, the little Ruth Hathorne who 
 had crept into his heart so long before, she 
 found that the great Mr. Williams, of whom 
 she had heard so much that she had come to 
 fear her meeting with him, had, after all, as 
 tender a heart as his gentle daughter Mary, 
 and one in which she would find almost as 
 much love for herself. The warm tears of 
 gratitude filled her dark eyes as he spoke, 
 and when he released her hand she was 
 very glad to turn away to Mary's embrace 
 and hide them in the bosom of her friend. 
 
 There were so many things to be said, so 
 many messages from the loved ones at home 
 to be given, that it was somewhat later than 
 usual when the Bible was brought from its 
 shelf and placed at the good man's side. 
 Ruth found herself wondering, at the close of 
 the simple service, what could be the charm
 
 2oS MASTER HATHORNE'S FAMILY. 
 
 in the voice and manner of him who had con- 
 ducted it, to make the familiar words so far 
 more beautiful than they had ever seemed be- 
 fore, and to inspire within her soul a deeper 
 feeling of love for the great Master ; and she 
 often thought afterward of the effect produced 
 upon her on this first evening, knowing then 
 that it was not the influence of voice or man- 
 ner, but the purity of the reader's soul shining 
 beyond his outward form, as he pondered the 
 divine words, and exerting its calm power 
 upon all who heard. 
 
 It was a joy merely to look on the good 
 man's face, its expression was so benign, it 
 was so lighted up by the love of his heart for 
 God and all of his creatures. Ruth could not 
 have entertained any feeling of fear, of un- 
 pleasant restraint, in his presence, however 
 much she might have reverenced him. To 
 see him was to love him, and it made little 
 difference whether the honored of the land 
 or the poor, simple, half-naked savage came 
 to him for friendship or service ; every one 
 found a warm place in his heart. It may 
 well be imagined, then, how easily a tempera
 
 MASTER HATHORNE'S FAMILY. 209 
 
 ment like Ruth's would yield to such a power, 
 and we can almost see the bright smiles of 
 love and joy that lighted up her beautiful face 
 whenever the good man laid his hand on her 
 head, as he would often do, and say some 
 happy word to her. 
 
 Ruth found her waist encircled by the arm 
 of her friend Mary when the little band be- 
 gan to separate for their rest, and she was 
 glad to be led away to share her companion's 
 bed. Though two hundred years have 
 passed away since the date of our story, the 
 nature of young girls has not changed ; so, 
 of course, Ruth and Mary lay awake more 
 than half the night talking of that numberless 
 multitude of subjects which the feminine mind 
 alone can conjure up. Perhaps their talk 
 was on topics a little different from those 
 that would now be chosen by equals in age, 
 for those were not the days so much of dress 
 and fashion as of sterner customs ; and it 
 should be remembered also that Mary was 
 the elder of the two by a dozen years , yet 
 they had enough sympathies in common to 
 keep them busily employed for many hours
 
 -JIO MASTER HATHORNE'S FAMILY. 
 
 after the eyes of the wearied traveler should 
 have been closed in sleep, and as a natural 
 consequence it was but little refreshed they 
 were when the morning dawned and the 
 early day of the New England household 
 was begun. 
 
 It was nearly noon, and Ruth had stolen 
 away to her room for a little while that she 
 might lie down and rest, when she heard 
 Paul Wallingford's voice in the hall inquir- 
 ing for her. She hastened immediately to 
 see him, for John was away, and she too 
 well divined the object of Paul's visit to 
 allow him to depart without its accomplish- 
 ment. 
 
 The young man met her at the foot of the 
 stairs, and Ruth read in his saddened brow 
 and sorrowful eye the confirmation of her 
 fears. Paul held her hand for a moment 
 without speaking, and in silence they passed 
 into the room and sat down. 
 
 " It is as we feared, Ruth," he said at last. 
 " As I told you, I knew my father too well to 
 be mistaken. The blow was too great, too sud- 
 den, the destruction of his life-long hopes too
 
 MASTER HATHORNE'S FAMILY. 211 
 
 complete, for any way of reconciliation to be 
 left." 
 
 "Is there none? Can a father become so 
 estranged from his son in a moment that 
 there can be no hope of change?" 
 
 "Ah, Ruth, I would not have believed it 
 myself, and even when I told you my fears 
 there was still a little doubt in my mind that 
 he would go so far. But it is worse even than 
 I had expected at the uttermost. I have seen 
 his hasty temper excited before, but never 
 till now have I seen him so determined. Had 
 he given way to an outburst of passion 1 
 should augur better for the future, but he 
 was even calm, his voice only betraying 
 the depth of his feeling. His words were 
 measured and slow, too carefully weighed 
 to be lightly retracted ; and though they were 
 not those that I expected to hear from his 
 lips, their burning significance will ever be 
 the more painful in my remembrance. It 
 was with scorn that he spoke of his son, 
 the heir to his wealth, who had only return- 
 ed to blast his hopes and to leave him for 
 his enemies, or perhaps to remain an inmate
 
 <5I2 MASTER HATHORNE'S FAMILY. 
 
 jf his house while in reality an outcast from 
 his heart. It was hard to hear him speak 
 thus, and harder still to listen to his cruel 
 taunts, that I had come back to seek my 
 inheritance, that it was not his love I prized, 
 but only the results of his labors, and that 
 of course the sooner my ingratitude com- 
 pleted its work upon him, the better it would 
 be for me ; but it was hardest of all when he 
 turned from me to my Master, and calmly, 
 with deliberate forethought, gave utterance to 
 words that I cannot, I must not, recall. That 
 was too hard to bear, and I turned from him 
 and left him alone. I saw him this morning. 
 The cold sneer rested still on his face when 
 he saw that I was still beneath his roof, but 
 without any farther word he went away. Of 
 course I am decided what to do. Though he 
 has not banished me his presence in so many 
 words, I am still, as he said, an outcast from 
 his heart; and if I can have no home there, 
 his dwelling cannot be mine. It has come 
 to pass as we feared, Ruth, but with the ac- 
 companiment of more terrible memories for 
 the future than I had thought.**
 
 MASTER HATHORNE'S FAMILT. 213 
 
 He leaned his head upon his hand, and 
 after a little silence said slowly : 
 
 "No mother and no father, brotherless and 
 sisterless, my friends every day dropping away 
 from me, I go out into the world. If I live, 
 there will be few to care for me ; if I die, 
 there will be few to mourn my loss. It is 
 harder to be friendless, Ruth, than I thought 
 it would be." 
 
 "Not wholly friendless, Paul," Ruth an- 
 swered, laying her hand on his appealingly. 
 "Remember, the few that are left are firm 
 and true, and you have yet life before you in 
 which to win others." 
 
 " A life that persecution may cut short, or so 
 embitter that it can hardly be called life." 
 
 "If it should be your lot to suffer as others 
 have suffered, remember what the eternal 
 Friend, the Elder Brother, has said : ' He that 
 findeth his life shall lose it ; and he that loseth 
 his life for my sake shall find it.' And his 
 blessed lips also uttered the words : ' Ye are 
 my friends, if ye do whatsoever I command 
 you. " 
 
 So she comforted him.
 
 CHAPTER XIII. 
 
 PAUL EXPLAINS HIS PLANS. 
 
 |OME days passed away before Ruth 
 again saw Paul, but then he came to 
 her with a face no longer cloud- 
 ed over by the shadow of sorrow and re- 
 gret, but radiant with happiness, and telling 
 plainly to the beholder that every hesitation, 
 every longing, backward look was passed 
 away for ever, and that the joyous soul was 
 ready for the contest that might be before it. 
 He came to her with a light step as she sat 
 upon her horse in front of the house waiting 
 for John to mount ; and he laid his hand upon 
 the gathered reins, as if desiring to retain her 
 while he talked. He had been staying at the 
 house of a friend since he last saw her, and 
 in the interval had made arrangements with 
 which he desired Ruth and her brother to be 
 
 214
 
 MASTER HATHORNB'S FAMILT. 215 
 
 acquainted. It was now Tuesday, and on the 
 following Sunday he was to be baptized by 
 the pastor of the Baptist church, and was 
 to unite with that body. He had also con- 
 cluded arrangements to study a few months 
 with Mr. Williams, that he might be ben- 
 efited by his great experience with the 
 Indians, and get enough knowledge of their 
 language to be able to act in the capacity of 
 a missionary. He was full of hopes for the 
 future, full of his burning desire to be at work 
 in his chosen calling. There was now no 
 mention made of the father who had rejected 
 him or of the friends who had cast him off. 
 All of the future that was not bright with sun- 
 shine he was determined to shut out from his 
 present sight ; all the darkness of the past he 
 was resolved to forget, save as it should serve 
 to make his work still more glorious in his 
 eyes and nerve him to its better fulfillment. 
 
 It was only for a few minutes they could 
 talk together, and Paul was obliged to say 
 good-bye when John came from the house 
 and mounted his horse. A little feeling of 
 sadness crept into his heart as he stood alone
 
 2l6 MASTER HATHORNB'S FAMILY. 
 
 and saw the brother and sister ride away 
 together a feeling not of envy at their 
 mutual love and happiness, for he would 
 not have deprived them of it for the world, 
 but of loneliness, of inexpressible regret that 
 his lot was so very different from that of his 
 friends ; but he turned away with a resolute 
 step and steeled his mind to think of other 
 things. 
 
 As he passed out into the street and turned 
 away to go to his home, he met the Indian 
 guide. Solomon was on his way to the house 
 of Mr. Williams, where he expected to see the 
 good man, but as Paul told him that he was 
 away from home, he turned and accompanied 
 him for some distance, as the way of both led 
 them toward the river. Paul was glad to 
 meet him, for he had already formed a plan 
 in which Solomon was to bear a part, if he 
 could be persuaded to help him. Solomon 
 listened attentively as Paul laid before him 
 the work that was to occupy his own atten- 
 tion in the future, and he expressed his joy 
 that his fellows were to be taught the blessed 
 truths which he had learned to love and to
 
 MASTER HATHORNE'S FAMILT. 217 
 
 trust so implicitly. But when Paul began to 
 speak of help, and of help that an Indian 
 alone could give, Solomon began to grow 
 a little disturbed. It was not that he was un- 
 willing to work, and to work in this way, 
 but Paul proposed to begin with his own 
 tribe, and he distrusted his own ability to 
 gain the respect and attention of those who 
 had been so long estranged from him. 
 
 Paul did not succeed in convincing him be- 
 fore they reached the water's edge. Then at 
 the Indian's solicitation he embarked with him 
 in his canoe, and they shot out upon the clear 
 surface of the stream. After they reached 
 the open river and felt the force of the current, 
 Solomon allowed the little craft to float pretty 
 much at its own will, and they continued their 
 conversation. 
 
 The idea was so wholly new to the Indian 
 that it was only with the greatest difficulty he 
 could be made to believe that he could be of 
 assistance to Paul in his great work. The 
 late afternoon gave place to early evening be- 
 fore they turned their course again up stream, 
 but ere they reached the shore and Paul step- 
 
 19
 
 21 8 MASTER HATHOKNE'S FAMILT. 
 
 ped from the canoe upon the beach, he had 
 prevailed on his companion to act as his col- 
 league in his mission, though the Indian was 
 still distrustful of any success in his efforts. 
 
 Paul walked away thoughtfully to the house 
 of the friend who had offered him a home, 
 and in his little room gave himself up to the 
 crowding thoughts of the hour. He was 
 troubled no longer about questions relating to 
 his future work ; they were all settled now, 
 and he was all ready for active labor. He 
 had long been decided too on the subject of 
 his approaching baptism. The hour was 
 now near, and his heart was filled with joy 
 at the hope of following in the footsteps of his 
 Master, yet he had so long looked forward 
 to the event that it did not occupy all of his 
 thoughts. There were other thoughts and feel- 
 ings now craving his attention. Since those 
 terrible hours of suspense in the solitude of 
 the forest, when he had first realized how the 
 happiness of his life was centred in another 
 being, he had not ceased to ponder the ques- 
 tion whether he should frankly tell Ruth 
 Hathorne of his love. He felt that now this
 
 MASTER HATHORNE'S FAMILY. 219 
 
 question must be definitely settled. But there 
 came to his mind the recollection of Mr. Ha- 
 thorne's reluctant consent to Ruth's visit ; how 
 he had at first forbidden it, when he had learn- 
 ed of the heretical influences to which she- 
 might be subjected upon the journey ; how he 
 had finally consented trusting to his daugh- 
 ter's firmness of principle and faith and con- 
 fiding in his own sense of honor. Could he, 
 then, in honor make known to Ruth the wishes 
 and the hopes of his heart? At once came the 
 firm, decisive answer to his lips, and as he 
 started to his feet and paced the room he re- 
 peated it to himself, as if beating it in upon his 
 brain, that he might not be betrayed into any 
 hasty action. It was with a redoubled sense 
 of loneliness that he sank again into his seat, 
 and gazed from the window across the dark- 
 ened waters of the river, but he quickly chided 
 himself for doubting for an instant that the 
 divine order was the best, and he thanked 
 God that he could trust his heavenly Father 
 in every event of life. 
 
 He found it a little difficult to dismiss the 
 whole subject from his thoughts at once, and
 
 220 MASTER HATHORNE'S FAMILY. 
 
 almost wished that he might not be obliged to 
 see Ruth so often during the next few months. 
 He felt that it would be a hard task to subdue 
 his strong desire for the sympathy she alone 
 could give him, as he should see her from 
 day to day during her stay in Providence, 
 and should learn to love her better, no 
 matter how much he might strive against it ; 
 but he clearly saw the task before him, and 
 from that moment he began to school his 
 heart to be patient in its struggle, hoping for 
 better things in the future. 
 
 There was another reason why he felt that 
 he must preserve silence in regard to his wishes ; 
 he feared that now, if he should discover 
 that his affection was returned by Ruth, he 
 might find it difficult to give all the time and 
 attention necessary for the successful pursuit 
 of his studies and labors. Now he must 
 devote every energy, every power, every 
 thought, to his great mission, until he should 
 be so firmly established in its pursuit that he 
 could with safety avert his eyes from the 
 pathway even while he was treading it. 
 Then, and then only, would he allow the
 
 MASTER HATHORNE'S FAMILY. 221 
 
 desires of his heart the gratification which 
 they craved. 
 
 He arose and took his Bible from the table, 
 and opened, not at random, but naturally, to 
 one of the places at which he loved best to 
 read. The holy words were a balm to his 
 spirit, an authoritative voice from the inspired 
 word of God speaking unto a conscience that 
 reproached not its possessor : 
 
 " I charge thee, therefore, before God and 
 the Lord Jesus Christ, who shall judge the 
 quick and the dead at his appearing and his 
 kingdom, preach the word ; be instant in 
 season, out of season ; reprove, rebuke, ex- 
 hort, with all long-suffering and doctrine." 
 And again: " But watch thou in all things, 
 endure afflictions, do the work of an evangel- 
 ist, make full proof of thy ministry." And 
 immediately the words of the Master himself 
 came to the young man's mind, and he re- 
 peated them again and again : " I must work 
 the works of him that sent me while it is day : 
 the night cometh, when no man can work."
 
 CHAPTER XIV. 
 RUTH'S JOURNAL. 
 
 IT had not been without some misgiv- 
 ings on the part of Mrs. Hathorne 
 that she had consented to the plans 
 formed by her children and their father for a 
 visit to their distant friends. She was secretly 
 glad when Mr. Hathorne revoked his deci- 
 sion, and determined that Ruth should not go 
 with John, though her sympathy for her 
 daughter in her disappointment led her to 
 forget her own preferences, and to intercede 
 with her husband in Ruth's .behalf. She 
 feared, as did her husband, the influence that 
 might be exerted upon her mind to lead her 
 away from the faith, but she had not the 
 reasons that Mr. Hathorne had for wishing 
 her to go at all hazards ; and had she even 
 
 328
 
 MASTER HATHORNE'S FAMILY. 223 
 
 suspected that motives of worldly advantage 
 had induced her husband to consent to the 
 trial of his daughter, she would have been 
 wholly averse to the fulfillment of the design. 
 As it was, she was unwilling that Ruth should 
 be wholly and at once deprived of that 
 mother's influence to which she had ever 
 been accustomed in the past. Therefore 
 it was that she resolved upon a plan by 
 which she hoped some of it might still be 
 retained. Ruth should keep a journal, for 
 the ostensible reason that her mother might 
 be made a participant in the pleasures of her 
 visit, but with the motive of greater import- 
 ance which has just been set forth. Mrs. 
 Hathorne hoped that her daughter might be 
 restrained from any indiscreet or venturesome 
 actions or thoughts, feeling that she must sub- 
 mit to her mother's eye a correct record of 
 all that occurred in connection with her 
 visit. 
 
 The intentions of the parent were of the 
 best ; but, ah ! how short-sighted to believe 
 that the innocent, unsuspecting soul could 
 be fettered in its aspirations and deep work-
 
 <224 MASTER HATHORNE'S FAMILT. 
 
 ings by so slight a bond ! Ruth cheerfully 
 acceded to her mother's request, and in fulfill- 
 ing its obligations she had no thought for any- 
 thing but that her parent should share as 
 fully as possible in every joy and every sor- 
 sow of her own heart. 
 
 The journal was made for the mother's eye ; 
 as we open it, therefore, let us look upon 
 what we find therein as the offering of a 
 child to a parent ; and as we hereafter make 
 free use of its pages we may remember that, 
 from the very fact that they were not intended 
 for our perusal, we may get the better know- 
 ledge of the life they describe. 
 
 "Saturday, August 7. I can hardly re- 
 alize that dear Mary is so much older than I 
 am, there is so much sympathy in our hearts 
 for each other. This morning we had a long 
 and confidential talk together about our future 
 life, and what we hoped it might be. As she 
 spoke of having desires so nearly coincident 
 with my own, I could not think of her as 
 thirty years old, but only as one who had 
 seen no more of life than myself. Ah ! if I
 
 MASTER HATHORNE'S FAMILY. 225 
 
 could only be sure that when I have passed 
 the joys and sorrows of so long a time I may 
 bring away from them a spirit as pure and 
 humble as hers, I should not tremble as I do 
 when I think of my own weakness and of 
 what the future may have in store for me. 
 
 "This morning I rode out with John, as 
 we do on almost every pleasant day, and he 
 took me to the spot that Mr. Williams had 
 previously pointed out to him as the place 
 where the Indians gave him their welcome, 
 after he had been forced to leave Seekonk 
 on the eastern side of the river. John says 
 we can ride to Seekonk some day, when we 
 have time enough to go farther up the stream, 
 where we can more easily find means to cross. 
 We enjoy these rides very much, all the 
 scenery is so beautiful and new ; I am only 
 sorry that Mary cannot enjoy them with us, 
 but she has never ridden and fears to make 
 the attempt. 
 
 "Ah, mother, as I write this afternoon, 
 you cannot know what thoughts are pressing 
 through my brain, making it almost painful 
 for me to remain quiet for a few minutes at a
 
 226 MASTER HATHORNE'S FAMILY. 
 
 time, that I may think without interruption. 
 To-morrow Paul is to be baptized, and John 
 and I are to be present at the ceremony with 
 Mr. Williams' family. I wish I could pre- 
 vent my foolish wicked, in this instance 
 curiosity, for it almost torments me, I so 
 much desire to know of these doctrines that 
 Paul has received. If I were by mother's side, 
 1 think my thoughts would not trouble me so. 
 She would clear away every doubt, every 
 fear. Without her influence my task will be 
 a hard one. I cannot talk with John ; he 
 would only put me off in his blunt way ; he 
 would not make any easier my struggle with 
 temptation. Is my visit an ill-timed one? I 
 will pray God it may not prove so." 
 
 " Sunday evening, August 8. The holy 
 hours have passed away, and my trouble is 
 not allayed ; it is even changed to anxiety, 
 my doubt and desire have united in feverish 
 solicitude, and I am wearied with thought. 
 
 " We all went to the Baptist meeting this 
 morning, and directly after the services the 
 baptism took place. The exercises, held in a
 
 MASTER HATHORNB'S FAMILT. 22j 
 
 grove, were very much like our own, and 
 therefore were different from what I sup- 
 posed they would be ; for I did not think Bap- 
 tists and Puritans could worship God in the 
 same way, they are so very different in belief. 
 But I suppose the danger is the greater, as 
 the apparent distinctions are less. Yet there 
 is one question that troubles me : How can 
 Paul have made so terrible a mistake, after 
 studying so carefully not only our faith, but 
 that of so many other sects? It seems to me 
 that it is wrong to judge even heresy till we 
 examine it ; but I remember father said that 
 was a dangerous doctrine when Paul said so 
 once in argument with John. Oh that I were 
 not so weak, so prone to evil ! 
 
 ' ' But I am not writing of the event of the 
 day, and mother will find my diary uninterest- 
 ing if I am not more careful. I did not like 
 the sermon, it was so different from the 
 preaching of Master Wilson, though I con- 
 fess I learned from it somewhat of the things 
 I have been troubled about lately. And, after 
 all, it was not so much what was said as the 
 way it was said which I did not like. I had
 
 228 MASTER HATHORNE'S FAMILY. 
 
 the thought continually in my mind that the 
 minister knew we were to be there and had 
 written his sermon particularly for us, such 
 was his manner and I seemed so often to find 
 his eye looking directly into mine ; but I am 
 smiling now at the mere remembrance of my 
 presumption. However, I forgot all unpleas- 
 ant thoughts when we left the grove and went 
 away to the bank of the river. 
 
 " I think, if the beauty of the ceremony is 
 considered, the Baptists have by far the ad- 
 vantage ; but of course it is wrong even to 
 think of this, for if their way is not the true 
 way, it is all the worse for its charm. Yet I 
 cannot help thinking this very beauty of the 
 rite may be an argument in its favor ; for the 
 solemn, peaceful ceremony, with its deep, 
 symbolic meaning, seemed to me almost 
 worthy of divine origin. 
 
 " The assembly at the river was a very large 
 one, yet there was no appearance of disorder, 
 no confusion nor noise ; and we could hear the 
 songs of the birds in the clear air above us 
 and from the trees near by as plainly as if 
 we had been alone. The church members
 
 MASTER HATHORNR'S FAMILT. 229 
 
 were assembled in a group by themselves, 
 and suddenly they commenced singing a 
 hymn. I could not catch the words, as John 
 and I stood at some distance apart from them, 
 but Mary repeated them to me after we came 
 home, and they were so beautiful I think I 
 shall never forget them. I will write them 
 here as she said them, and oh, I wish I could 
 write as well the beautiful melody to which 
 they were sung; for, dear mother, if you had 
 been with us to listen, I know you would 
 have wept as I did, and would have half for- 
 given the heresy that could express its peace 
 an .-'. hope and joy so beautifully. 
 
 'As thou, O Christ the Blessed, 
 
 Hast bowed thy sacred head, 
 And passed beneath the portal 
 
 That openeth for the dead ; 
 As thou for our salvation 
 
 Didst lie within the tomb, 
 And in glorious resurrection 
 
 Depart its darksome gloom ; 
 
 ' So we, as thou in Jordan, 
 
 Thy death do symbolize ; 
 With thee we lie in burial, 
 
 With thee to life arise. 
 20
 
 230 MASTER HATHORNE*S FAMILY. 
 
 We leave our deathly garments 
 
 Beneath the liquid wave, 
 And show thy resurrection, 
 
 Thou Conqueror of the grave. 
 
 And in the great hereafter, 
 
 From care and pain set free, 
 Ransomed, thy praises we shall sing, 
 
 The joy we have from thee, 
 And standing by the river 
 
 That flows thy throne before, 
 We then shall see thee eye to eye. 
 
 And bless thee evermore.' 
 
 ' ' They sang these words as they all stood 
 on the shore, with Paul and the minister in 
 their midst. After the hymn words of prayer 
 floated out over the multitude, gathering the 
 devotion of the many hearts before soaring 
 upward to the bright, peaceful heavens. 
 
 "Then the two went out from their com- 
 panions and descended slowly into the water, 
 while the silence on the shore was so great 
 that we could hear even the dash of the little 
 ripples as they broke upon the beach. The 
 minister's voice was distinctly audible as he 
 pronounced the solemn formula of baptism, 
 and, mother, as he spoke I saw the face of
 
 MASTER HATHORNE'S FAMILY. 231 
 
 Paul, and it was so calm, so peaceful, and at 
 the same time so full of triumphant joy, that I 
 almost thought he saw the Christ whom he 
 was following as he gazed so fixedly toward 
 his beautiful sky. 
 
 " They sang again as they came up out of 
 the water, and Paul and his companion joined 
 in the singing, making it seem to me that the 
 band upon the shore was giving its welcome 
 to those who answered from the water, and 
 all uniting in the praise of God. 
 
 " There was only one thing I wanted then ; 
 I felt that if dear mother were only with me, 
 to see and enjoy the beautiful scene in all its 
 solemnity and depth of meaning, and to know 
 the thoughts in her poor daughter's mind, I 
 should be content. Yet I knew I could never 
 be content until I should be either satisfied 
 my thoughts were right, or convinced of their 
 sinfulness, so that I could put them away 
 for ever. And that brings me back again 
 to the all-absorbing question ! Oh, that I 
 may be helped to do what is right what 
 my Saviour would wish me to do."
 
 CHAPTER XVI. 
 RUTH'S PERPLEXITIES. 
 
 IEDNESDAY, August n. it h?s been 
 
 very rainy for the last two days, and 
 now, as I write, the sun seems very 
 reluctant to show his face, reminding me of a 
 naughty child who has been commanded by 
 his parent to dry his tears, and who complies 
 with poor grace. On account of the weather 
 we have been obliged to omit our daily rides 
 and out-of-door occupations, and confine our- 
 selves to the house. John, of course, has not 
 been so closely imprisoned as I have, and has 
 passed some time with Paul at his rooms ; but 
 I have found the time to pass not wearily, 
 but uncomfortably, for I have had no out- 
 ward circumstances to call away my thoughts 
 from the temptation within that temptation 
 222
 
 MASTER HATHORNE'S FAMILY. 233 
 
 which I have come to look upon as so dread- 
 fi.l, and which, in spite of all my efforts, I 
 cannot escape. 
 
 " There is one thing that troubles me very 
 much : the more I pray to God to keep me 
 from evil, to keep me even from my sinful 
 thoughts, the harder I find it to banish from 
 my mind these questions that vex me con- 
 tinually. It seems as if there is some power 
 outside of myself that forces me to ponder 
 the subject I would so gladly put off. Ah, 
 dear mother for I remember always that I 
 am writing this for you if you could only 
 be by my side I know your poor, perplexed 
 daughter would lose half her trouble. 
 
 "A half hour has passed since I wrote 
 the above words, and almost without knowing 
 it I have been over the whole ground again, 
 until now I think suddenly of my diary, and 
 find it has fallen from my lap, unheeded, to 
 the floor. I have come to a determination 
 upon one point. The clouds have all closed 
 up again, and I fear there will be no sunshine 
 to-day ; I must find what comfort I can, for I 
 
 think it may assist me somewhat in writing 
 20*
 
 ^34 MASTER HATHORNE'S FAMILY. 
 
 down some of the thoughts that trouble me 
 so, just as I should pour them out into 
 mother's ear, if she were with me. 
 
 " I think Paul's baptism has had a great in- 
 fluence upon me, because it has materially 
 changed some of the views I formerly held, 
 and has intensified some thoughts which I 
 before passed over with little notice. This 
 first immersion that I have ever seen has not 
 impressed me as I feared it would, leading me 
 to regard those who practice the rite as utterly 
 filled with folly, substituting for our own 
 beautiful form one without comeliness of any 
 sort, unauthorized either by Scripture or 
 usage, and unnecessary for the fulfillment 
 of Christ's commands ; and I am glad this 
 fear of mine was groundless, for I should 
 be sorry to think thus of Mary or of Paul. But 
 so far from this has been the effect of the 
 ceremony upon my mind that I can no longer 
 regard our own form as even satisfactory, 
 when I look at it as the outward expression 
 of inward consecration to Christ; and more 
 than this, and what troubles me most of all, 
 I can no longer read the history of the
 
 MASTER HATHORNE'S FAMILY. 235 
 
 Saviour's baptism in Jordan without the re- 
 membrance of last Sunday's scene coming 
 vividly before my mind. I am certain this 
 only immersion I have seen would not come 
 so instantly to mind if I were not conscious 
 that it is a close imitation of the scene de- 
 scribed by the sacred writers ; and therefore 
 the conviction ah, mother, it is fast becom- 
 ing a conviction ! that the Baptists do not 
 lack authority for their practice is forced 
 upon me with a power almost irresistible. 
 
 " Still I am not ready to say that we are 
 wrong; that the Baptists have the only 
 authority. God knows I would not dare to 
 say that I, a poor, weak, uneducated girl, 
 am better fitted to judge of such a question 
 than all the learned men who have stood at 
 the head of our church for ages ! Even our 
 own good Master Wilson ought to know what 
 is the Lord's will in this matter, and surely it 
 is not right for me to dispute his authority, 
 when I see that he has not only concluded 
 for himself, but is so well convinced that he 
 hesitates not to teach his way to others as 
 the way the Lord commands. But the best
 
 236 MASTER HATHORNE'S FAMILY. 
 
 are mistaken sometimes ; the wisest are often 
 led astray ; and the dear Saviour gave thanks 
 to the Father because some things were 
 hidden from the wise and prudent, and re- 
 vealed unto babes. 
 
 ** I have been thinking to-day I would talk 
 with John ; yet I am very reluctant to take 
 this step, for I know I can expect but little 
 sympathy from him, though of course he 
 would give me advice and help me as far 
 as he had the power. Mary has been very 
 thoughtful and kind, not speaking to me 
 at all upon the subject that she must know 
 occupies so much of my attention ; and 
 I am grateful for her delicate reserve, for I 
 should not like to have her urge me to her 
 way of thinking without regard to my own 
 feelings, as many might do in the present 
 circumstances. I have thought of telling 
 her plainly all my trouble, but she could 
 not help me to the right, if the right is really 
 as we believe it to be. She could only lead 
 me still farther astray. I am resolved to tell 
 John all and ask him to help me. 
 
 " I believe this anxiety, this constant strif-,
 
 MASTER HATHORNE'S FAMILY. 237 
 
 is making me ill. My cheeks are hot, my 
 eyes burn, and my aching head throbs heav- 
 ily. I must not be sick so far away from 
 home. On Thursday, that is, to-morrow, if 
 the weather is favorable, John and I are to ride 
 to Seekonk and then a few miles farther on 
 into the forest, to visit the encampment of 
 Long Solomon's tribe, to which he is again 
 united, since his great bravery in defending 
 us against the red-skins who attacked us has 
 won for him again the respect of the tribe. I 
 am glad for Solomon, the brave, good old 
 friend. I shall never forget I owe my life to 
 him. If we ride as we intend, there will be 
 a good opportunity to talk with John." 
 
 " Thursday Morning^ August 12. Is it 
 my lot to wander on in darkness, without any 
 helping hand to lead me, until I may of my 
 own efforts find the light? No ! I am wrong 
 to let such a thought creep into my mind even 
 for an instant; I fear it was almost impious. 
 God will give me aid, though he may delay 
 it and if I have his guiding hand, what finite 
 helper do I need?
 
 238 MASTER HATHORNE'S FAMILY. 
 
 "The day is mild and clear and beautiful, 
 but I am forced to stay at home and my talk 
 with John must be put off. Of one thing I am 
 glad, however : Mary has at last been induced 
 to mount my horse, and John is giving her the 
 first riding-lesson. I hope it may not be the 
 last, and I think she will soon find courage 
 enough, to sit as easily upon my saddle as on 
 the pillion behind her father. 
 
 " I can write no more to-day. Is it wrong 
 to wish I were too ill to think ? to perplex my- 
 self farther throughout the long, long day ?" 
 
 " Friday, August 13. I am much better 
 to-day, and think it could only have been a lit- 
 tle cold that made me so unwell yesterday. I 
 hardly thought it prudent to ride, however, 
 when John asked me this morning, and I per- 
 suaded him that it would be better for us both 
 if he would remain at home, as I wished to 
 talk with him. I think he knew what I had 
 in mind, for he stood a few moments looking 
 thoughtfully into my eyes, and then without a 
 word he turned away and went to order the 
 horses to the stable.
 
 MASTER HATHORNB'S FAMILY. 239 
 
 " When he returned I beckoned him to fol- 
 low me, and led the way to my room. It so 
 happened that Mary was away looking after 
 some poor people who had lately come to the 
 town, and I knew we should be uninterrupted. 
 When we were seated I told him plainly all 
 that was agitating my mind, concealing noth- 
 ing of the trouble I have felt for the last few 
 days, and of the seemingly hopeless task be- 
 fore me, the decision of the question contin- 
 ually forcing itself upon my mind. Brother 
 was very patient with me much more so than 
 I thought he would be and he listened very 
 attentively till I finished speaking. I think 
 he felt a good deal for me, for I believe I saw 
 a tear in his eye once or twice, and when I 
 had told him all, he arose and walked away 
 to the window, where he stood looking out for 
 some time without speaking. At last, when 
 I had begun to fear he was after all displeased 
 and angry, he came back and sat down by my 
 side, very kindly and gently taking my hand 
 in his while he spoke. 
 
 " He said he had feared for some time that 
 I was suffering from some such cause as this,
 
 2?0 MASTER HATHORNE'S FAMILY. 
 
 and so he was not surprised that I now came 
 to him with my story. And, moreover, he said 
 he was perplexed how to answer me or help 
 me out of my difficulty, for he was little better 
 able to fully understand the way of truth than 
 I. Then for the first time he told me of a long 
 conversation he had with Paul a few days ago, 
 in which he learned more of the Baptist doc 
 trine than he had ever known before, and he 
 advised me to ask Mary whatever questions 
 might occur to me from time to time, that the 
 way to the truth might become as plain and 
 easy as possible. Particularly he urged me 
 to let no worldly considerations influence me 
 in deciding for myself. However much I 
 might desire to avoid injuring the feelings of 
 our dear parents ; however much the claims 
 of all our kindred might force themselves 
 upon my attention ; and even though I might 
 be called upon to sacrifice personal peace and 
 happiness in the future, it was my duty, he 
 said, to allow no observation to be slighted, 
 no argument or consideration to be passed by 
 that could assist in leading me to the right 
 conclusion. He told me plainly that he
 
 MASTER HATHORNE'S FAMILY, 241 
 
 thought it the duty of every one to examine 
 carefully and prayerfully the Holy Scriptures, 
 and by the light there found to establish for 
 himself his own belief, and not to follow 
 blindly in the footsteps of men who have gone 
 before. He acknowledged that he had been 
 too remiss in the past, too prone to take every- 
 thing as he found it, believing in all things 
 firmly established as having the absolute, 
 unquestionable authority of God. But upon 
 him also the conversion of Paul and his union 
 with this sect have had a great and irresist- 
 ible influence, and he has been led to weigh 
 in the balance of Holy Writ the teachings of 
 the church of which we are members and of 
 that in whose midst we now are. 
 
 "I was greatly surprised to find John so 
 ready for the conversation which I have so 
 long desired, yet looked forward to with a 
 feeling of anxiety and almost dread. I was 
 yet more surprised to find him so liberal, so 
 prepared to grant to every one the liberty of 
 believing as for himself, nay, to insist upon 
 religious freedom as firmly as Paul himself. 
 
 Indeed, I think John is out of place at home 
 21 Q
 
 242 MASTER HATHORNE'S FAMILY. 
 
 in Boston, and I doubt if he ever lives there 
 again in peace and quiet, for either he must 
 change much in his opinions or a more liberal 
 spirit must spring up and grow in the colony, 
 if he is to be tolerated in the community 
 where he has lived so long. But I believe 
 that there is yet a greater change in store for 
 him, for his earnest, soulfelt words have con- 
 vinced me that he will not stop in the in- 
 vestigation of this question until it has led 
 him far away from the faith of his fathers. 
 
 "When he arose to leave me after we had 
 talked together for more than two hours, he 
 placed his hand on my head, and reminded 
 me again that in questions like the one we 
 are now considering the highest authority is 
 the word of God, and he added that hence- 
 forward in every religious controversy the 
 Holy Scriptures should be his only guide. 
 
 "When he had left me, I could only fall 
 upon my knees and pray the good and merci- 
 ful God to give us both strength and know- 
 ledge, that we might be prepared for every 
 event of the future, for every bold and noble 
 Christian deed, for every trial and every sor
 
 MASTER HATHORNE'S FAMILY. 243 
 
 row, and for the hour of blessing and of 
 triumph. 
 
 " On Mary's return she came immediately 
 to bur room, and after a little conversation on 
 other subjects, I asked her some questions 
 that I have long desired to have answered. 
 When she had told me all I wished, I was 
 sorry I had not asked long before, for it 
 would have saved much vain trouble and 
 speculation. Very many doubts were cleared 
 away and much information was given me. 
 Since my conversation with her I have been 
 going over again in my mind many argu- 
 ments that have now assumed a new aspect. 
 
 "The chief question with me now is 
 whether baptism is to be administered only 
 to those who believe, or whether infants also 
 may be baptized. I am ready to acknowledge 
 that there is no account given in the Bible of 
 the baptism of infants, and I have heard both 
 John and Paul say that we have no proof that 
 the rite has the authority of the apostles ; but 
 in some way or other it has become firmly 
 established in the church, and the spotless 
 purity of the little ones to whom it is admin-
 
 244 MASTER HATHORNE'S FAMILY. 
 
 istered seems to me to plead strongly in its 
 favor. I suppose there are arguments, strong 
 and convincing, which wiser heads than mine 
 might urge, but this simple consideration is 
 enough for me ; at least it is sufficient to hold 
 my thoughts and prevent me from acceding 
 at once to the views of the Baptists." 
 
 " Sunday evening^ August 15. The 
 whole day have I spent in prayerful study of 
 my Bible. Mrs. Williams, kind and careful 
 as she ever is, thought I had better not go to 
 meeting, as it is held in the grove, for they 
 have no meeting-house, and I readily ac- 
 quiesced in her decision, because I am still 
 unwell. I am grateful for every moment 
 of quiet I can get, in order to study and 
 think. 
 
 " So great a change has come upon me 
 that I am no longer troubled when I ponder 
 the questions that have so long agitated my 
 thoughts. I have fully determined one point, 
 and that is, that whatever I may find to be 
 my duty, whether to renounce my old faith 
 or to cling to it more strongly than ever, I
 
 MASTER HATHORNE'S FAMILY. 245 
 
 must still act according to my convictions, of 
 right, even at the expense of my own happi- 
 ness and that of others. It has been very 
 hard for me to come to such a decision, but 
 now that it is made I am much calmer, much 
 happier. But, ah, how sad I shall be if I 
 am forced to grieve those dear ones at home 
 who have loved me so tenderly, who have 
 watched over me with perfect care from my 
 infancy, and who are even now counting the 
 days for their daughter's return ! Must that 
 return bring sorrow and discord to the happy 
 home? God only knows ! But he has shown 
 me that it will be better to displease my 
 earthly parents than to grieve my heavenly 
 Father. 
 
 " There is one thing of which I am glad : 
 neither Mary nor her parents nor Paul have 
 urged upon me the consideration of their 
 views. It would be wrong to say that I am 
 as free from influence Baptist influence here 
 as I should be at home ; but in fact not a 
 word has been said to me on this subject 
 unless I have first requested it. If I do 
 become a Baptist, no one will be charged by 
 21*
 
 246 MASTER HATHORNE'S FAMILY. 
 
 my parents with resorting to proselytism for 
 my conversion. 
 
 " I trembled as I penned those words : if 1 
 do become a Baptist. How much is involved 
 in becoming a Baptist? I cannot live here ; I 
 must return to my home my home, where 
 the sect is persecuted, hated, shunned as an 
 evil thing. I shall destroy the peace and joy 
 that have always dwelt beneath our roof; I 
 shall bring disgrace and insult upon the head 
 of my dear, dear father; I may hurry my 
 patient and loving mother to a sorrowful 
 grave ; I may myself be rejected by all those 
 who are dear to me, cast out from home, held 
 up to public scorn and ridicule nay, more, be 
 subjected perhaps to public disgrace and pun- 
 ishment. I shudder at the thought. Ah ! it 
 was cruel, as I always thought, to be so terri- 
 bly severe against the poor Quakers; but 
 when one is liable to the same persecution, 
 how much more does he feel the sting of in- 
 justice and wrong ! 
 
 " Last evening, after the closing worship 
 of the day, Mr. Williams came to me and 
 taking me by the hand drew me aside into his
 
 MASTER HATHORNE'S FAMILY. 247 
 
 study, while the others passed on to their 
 rooms. I could not think at first what he 
 wished, but he soon set my mind at rest, for 
 he took from his desk a little paper and un- 
 folding it, began to read. It was a letter from 
 home, from dear father, which he had just 
 received from the hands of a neighbor who 
 had been on a visit to Boston. I could not 
 keep the tears from my eyes as he read the 
 words my father's hand had written. The 
 good man saw my emotion, and took my hand 
 in his while he continued to read. Though 
 the letter was not written to me, it contained 
 much in which I was interested, beside the 
 tidings of the good health of all the dear ones. 
 When Mr. Williams had finished reading, he 
 turned again to his desk and took out a little 
 parcel for me. I had already begun to won- 
 der that the messenger had brought nothing 
 for me when father had found time to write 
 to Mr. Williams, but now I saw at once the 
 kindness of the latter in allowing me to enjoy 
 the contents of his own letter before the 
 pleasure of hearing it would be lessened by 
 the perusal of my own.
 
 248 MASTER HATHORNE'S FAMILY. 
 
 "I carried my package to my room and 
 read and re-read the precious words from 
 father, mother, Grace, and even little Willie ; 
 for his * Dear sister, love me,' that his little 
 hand guided by mother's, I know, had printed 
 for me, was not in any respect unworthy of 
 the many, many kisses I pressed upon it. It 
 was long past midnight when I put my treas- 
 ures away and lay down by the side of Mary ; 
 but even then I could not sleep for thinking 
 over my letters, and I pictured out to myself 
 the dear ones at home as they had gathered 
 around the table in the evening to write to the 
 absent ones. Ah ! we never know what home 
 is till we are far away from it ; and even then 
 the missives that are so cherished only renew 
 the pang we felt at separation, although we 
 long for them and value them more than gold. 
 
 "John came to my room this morning to read 
 my letters, and we afterward had a few min- 
 utes to talk together before it was time for the 
 meeting. I think it will not be long before he 
 tells me his decision, in one way or another. 
 And I ? Whither shall I turn?"
 
 CHAPTER XVII. 
 
 THE DECISION OF JOHN AND RUTH. 
 
 jjONDAY, August 30. Again, after so 
 long an interval, I open my diary to 
 write my diary, that is to be, after 
 all, only a disappointment to her for whom it 
 is written. I have had many joys, many 
 cares, and much pain and suffering during 
 my visit, but the pages of my journal will 
 give to my mother only a short and meagre 
 account of the days I have passed so far away 
 from her. 
 
 ' ' I have been sick. For two long and weary 
 weeks there has hardly been an hour when I 
 have been free from pain. The cold that was 
 upon me when I last wrote was only deceiv- 
 ing us when we thought it passing off; and 
 on Monday morning, two weeks ago to-day, 
 I was too ill to rise from bed. A week passed 
 
 249
 
 25 MASTER HATHORNE'S FAMILY. 
 
 before I began to grow better a week of 
 much suffering, yet not without its advantages, 
 for I have come to know what true and kind 
 friends are those with whom we are staying. 
 I can never be grateful enough to dear Mrs. 
 Williams and her good husband, and to my 
 sweet, patient, loving friend Mary. She 
 hardly left me for a moment while I was con- 
 fined to my bed, and she has shown me every 
 attention possible. It was last Thursday that 
 I sat up for the first time, and since that day I 
 have steadily grown stronger and better, until 
 now I am able to commence my writing 
 again. 
 
 "Paul has been to see me several times 
 during the last few days, and my room has 
 been supplied with flowers through his kind 
 care ever since I was taken sick. He has 
 commenced his studies with Mr. Williams, and 
 is closeted with him two hours of each day ; 
 then he comes to sit with me a little while, 
 and tell me of what he is doing and is going 
 to do. 
 
 " I wonder if dear mother would refuse her 
 permission to the marriage of her daughter
 
 MASTER HATHORNE'S FAMILT. 251 
 
 with Paul ? I have been led to think much of 
 the subject during the last week, for Paul has 
 so often spoken of Grace, and in such terms 
 that it is easy to see how his thoughts are run- 
 ning. It is true he is a Baptist, but I hope 
 that when the proper time shall come there 
 will be no hindrance to the union of our dear 
 little Grace with one whom we esteem so 
 highly. I should like Paul for a brother, and 
 I feel sure that John has no more cherished 
 wish than to welcome him into our family, 
 our home. But then we must perhaps lose 
 our little Grace, and she will be transplanted 
 to Paul's home here instead of retaining him 
 at ours in Boston. It would be a sore loss, 
 and it would be hard work to sustain it with 
 equanimity ; but the change must come some 
 time, and it will be a cause for joy if one who 
 is no more a stranger than Paul shall inaugu- 
 rate it." 
 
 "Tuesday, August 31. 'Know ye not, 
 that so many of us as were baptized into 
 Jesus Christ were baptized into his death? 
 Therefore we are buried with him by bap-
 
 252 MASTER HATHORNE'S FAMILY. 
 
 tism into death ; that like as Christ was 
 raised up from the dead by the glory of the 
 Father, even so we also should walk in new- 
 ness of life. For if we have been planted 
 together in the likeness of his death, we shall 
 be also in the likeness of his resurrection. 
 Buried with him in baptism, wherein also 
 ye are risen with him through the faith of the 
 operation of God, who hath raised him from 
 the dead.' 
 
 "The time has come! These words are 
 no longer meaningless to me ; they have at 
 last brought me out of my darkness, and they 
 stand before me in letters of light, showing 
 unto me the truth of God. How bitterly 
 sorrowful I am that I have lived so long 
 without obeying my dear Saviour's com- 
 mand 1 that I have hesitated as to my duty 
 when the pages of Scripture have ever held 
 the same significant words as now I 
 
 "Jesus came from Nazareth of Galilee, 
 and was baptized of John in Jordan. I too 
 will be baptized in Jordan. I will follow the 
 footsteps of the Master, I will go down intc 
 the water and come up out of the water, I
 
 MASTER HATHORNE'S FAMILY. 253 
 
 will truly symbolize, as did the great Ex- 
 emplar, the death unto sin and the resurrec- 
 tion unto life. And then, though my lot may 
 be one of trial and suffering, the blessed re- 
 membrance that the Christ whom I follow 
 was persecuted even in the same way shall 
 give me comfort and peace. 
 
 "I am a Baptist my parents would say a 
 heretic but God knows in whose heart is the 
 truth. I am a Baptist, and though I am 
 trembling, fearing, weeping, as I write for 
 I am weak, too weak to bear the sorrow of 
 imposing so much anguish on others I am 
 still rejoicing with a heart full of happiness 
 and thanksgiving that the Father hath at 
 last brought me to the end of the contest and 
 given me the knowledge of his truth. Now 
 it only remains for me to receive strength to 
 perform the duty indicated by that truth. 
 
 " The other doctrines held by the Baptists 
 John explained to me fully the day after Mary 
 taught me what they are, and I soon saw the 
 beauty and truth of those few in which I had 
 not already believed. Only this one was 
 
 left, and from the very reason that this is the 
 22
 
 254 MASTER HATHORNE'S FA MILT. 
 
 most prominent, most distinctive of all, it was 
 the hardest for me to receive. But all the 
 struggle is now over, and peace of mind has 
 again come back to me." 
 
 " Wednesday, September i. As I have 
 had little heart in the common events of life 
 while my thoughts have been so taken up by 
 the perplexities of the last few weeks, so I 
 have not written as fully of those events as I 
 should otherwise have done. Now they shall 
 claim their proper place again. 
 
 "This morning, as Mr. Williams was away 
 on business, Paul came and sat with me an 
 hour, and then, supported by his arm, I took 
 my first walk in the open air since I was 
 taken ill. He was, of course, very much re- 
 joiced that I had been led to adopt his own 
 faith, and I learned much from his conversa- 
 tion, though he could hardly talk calmly on 
 account of his happiness that I had found the 
 truth. We endeavored to conjecture the influ- 
 ence my decision might have on John, who 
 has now been absent two days. I long for 
 his return. He went away upon business
 
 MASTER HATHORNE'b FAMILT. 255 
 
 affairs, as he said, though I strongly suspect 
 he wished to be alone, away from all f riends, 
 all who could exercise any influence upon 
 him, until he should have considered care- 
 fully and settled definitely the great question 
 that I have now laid aside as settled. If 
 solitude is what he desires, and if he wishes 
 it for this purpose, his absence is no errand 
 of business, but a pilgrimage in search of 
 truth and peace. 
 
 ' ' As we walked back and forth in the 
 pleasant garden-path, Paul spoke again of 
 Grace, seeming to love to talk of her, and he 
 spoke even more plainly than ever before, 
 praising her beauty and above all the loveli- 
 ness of her character, which, he said, could 
 only attract the affection of every one who 
 met her. 
 
 "I think Paul feels deeply, far more deeply 
 than he would let any one know, the action 
 of his father in disowning him on account of 
 his bold stand for the truth. He needs a 
 home, and without one he will never be con- 
 tented ; and therefore when he talks so much 
 of our little Grace it is easy for me to see
 
 25 MASTER HATHORNR'S FAM1LT. 
 
 whither his thoughts are turning. I do not 
 at all wonder at this attachment that is so 
 manifest in Paul. Grace is so winsome, so 
 happy in disposition and manner, so lovely 
 and sweet in character, that it would be more 
 worthy of wonder if such a young man as 
 Paul, who is so good and noble, and who has 
 frequented so much our family circle, did not 
 come to love her and to wish for her dear 
 companionship always. Paul's love too would 
 be increased by the peculiar circumstances in 
 which he is placed, for it is only natural that 
 one who is bereft of the love due to him from 
 his kinsmen should seek to replace it by an- 
 other which should richly compensate for all 
 his loss. 
 
 "But I fear all will not be well with the 
 two. First, is it not vain to hope that father 
 will give his daughter to one whom he has 
 cast out from his own heart and home ? I can- 
 not believe that even Paul has this expectation, 
 and surely it would be but increased pain to 
 be forced to abstain from plucking the fruit 
 that would more than satisfy the hunger of 
 his craving nay, starving nature. Then
 
 MASTER HATHORNE'S FAMILY. 257 
 
 even if father's consent could be obtained, 
 there are two reasons why I should fear for 
 the happiness of both Paul and Grace : not 
 only is she so young as to be hardly capable 
 of determining whether she really loves Paul 
 well enough for a life union or not, but our 
 little Grace would also find a drawback upon 
 her joy from the difference between her faith 
 and that of Paul, which would probably lead 
 to mutual sorrow, particularly if the times are 
 to be as stormy as they have been in the past. 
 Yet all these fears may be idle ; and when I 
 say that it is my wish to bring about this great 
 joy if it is possible, I only give utterance to 
 the most cherished hope of my heart. Dear 
 little Grace, our pet, how happy, how blessed 
 she would be ! 
 
 " I feel that my walk tired me, though it 
 gave me strength at the same time. If the 
 pleasant weather continues, I shall grow 
 better rapidly." 
 
 " Thursday, September 2. Paul will be 
 here in a few minutes to take me to ride with 
 Mr. Williams and Mary. We are to ride in 
 22* a
 
 25 8 MASTER HATHORNE'S FAMILY. 
 
 the vicinity of the town for an hour or two. 
 Mr. Williams asked me to his study just after 
 prayers this morning, and we talked much of 
 the change in my religious belief and of the 
 duties that it imposes upon me. I thought I 
 fully realized what they were before, but they 
 assumed double importance as they were 
 clothed in the good man's words, and I be- 
 gan to fear that I could never satisfy my 
 conscience, never please my Master suffi- 
 ciently, if I should try even to the full extent 
 of my powers to perform them. But when 
 we knelt down together, and he prayed that 
 I might have the strength required for the 
 pursuit of my warfare, and that Christ would 
 ever bless my efforts, I was no longer troubled. 
 I think he must be truly inspired who has 
 such marvelous power over the souls of his 
 fellow-men." 
 
 " Saturday, September 4. An eventful 
 day. Brother John returned early this morn- 
 ing, and my first glance at his face assured 
 me that my conjectures about his absence had 
 not been without foundation. He was pale,
 
 MASTER HATHORNE'S FAMILT. 259 
 
 even haggard, so great had been his struggle 
 and the pain it had caused him, and I was 
 shocked as I saw him tremble, as he rose from 
 his seat, and stagger away to his room. I 
 thought it best to leave him to himself for a 
 few hours, that he might have uninterrupted 
 rest. But I became at last so anxious, fear- 
 ing he was sick, that I ventured to his room 
 and knocked. As I received no answer, I 
 raised the latch and entered. He was lying 
 with his face turned from me, and I had to 
 approach him closely to see if he was sleep- 
 ing. I stood by his side a moment watching 
 his peaceful slumber, his breathing as soft and 
 regular as a tired child's, when he became 
 restive beneath my gaze and awoke before I 
 could withdraw. He sprang up suddenly and 
 threw his arms about my neck, weeping bit- 
 terly. What could I do but sit down by his 
 side and mingle my tears with his? for I knew 
 his thoughts ; I knew how great his struggle, 
 his agony, had been. 
 
 "At last he brushed his hand across his 
 eyes and hastily arose. Then he told me how 
 he had passed the days of his absence and
 
 i6o MASTER HAT HORNETS FAMILY. 
 
 what had been the result of his trial ; and as 
 he told me that he too felt it his duty to be 
 baptized according to the command and after 
 the example of Christ, we wept again together 
 in mutual sympathy. 
 
 -'' Ah, how bitterly will our dear father rue 
 the day when he gave his consent to our 
 coming hither ! But our Father in heaven 
 has had us in his keeping, and has ruled each 
 day's events for eternal good. 
 
 "John has decided that we are to return 
 home immediately. He is impatient now, as 
 I am also, to obey our Lord's command ; still, 
 he is unwilling to be baptized while here, 
 thinking rightly that, as our lot is cast in our 
 own colony, our influence there will be in- 
 creased if we take the first great step before 
 the eyes of those in whose midst we are to 
 walk. Therefore we are to leave here as soon 
 as John can settle some business matters of 
 importance, and already I am in a state of 
 anxiety at the prospect of so soon meeting our 
 dear ones. But how very different the cir- 
 cumstances from those under which we took 
 our departure I
 
 MASTER HATHORNE'S FAMILY. 261 
 
 "After John left me this morning I re 
 mained a few moments in his room, looking 
 out upon the beautiful prospect, and almost 
 regretting that we must leave a scene of such 
 pure delight so soon for the turbulent and 
 even dangerous world before us. As I sat at 
 the open window, I heard voices conversing 
 together outside, and looking down beneath 
 the window, I saw that Mr. Williams, who 
 was leaning upon his axe at the side of his 
 wood pile, and Paul were the speakers. I 
 paid no attention for some time to what they 
 were saying, until they were about parting, 
 when Paul dropped a few words that imme- 
 diately caught my notice. 
 
 " * It is the wisest plan,' he said. * I would 
 have preferred to labor here, where I could 
 have the benefit of your experience to aid 
 me ; but as you say, there is no one there ; 
 here you will always be ; and therefore it is 
 evident I am most needed in Massachusetts.' 
 
 " ' The work will be harder there ; and more 
 danger, not only from the authorities but also 
 from the Indians, will undoubtedly surround 
 you. But you will have the arm of the Lord,
 
 262 MASTER HATHORNE'S FAMILY. 
 
 my dear young friend. He will uphold thee 
 in the days of adversity, and in every strait 
 he will compass thee about.' 
 
 " This was all, for Paul turned away imme- 
 diately and went out into the street, while Mr. 
 Williams began his work again, and the blows 
 of the axe seemed to me sharper, stronger 
 than before, as if a weighty matter had been 
 determined. But I had heard enough to show 
 me that another great plan had been matured, 
 and that, if John and I were to leave our 
 friends here for enmity at home, we should at 
 least have one staunch helper in all our trials. 
 I felt deeply thankful that God had so merci- 
 fully disposed events that we were not to be 
 wholly without friends, if rejected by those 
 who are so dear to our hearts. 
 
 " So to-day I have had enough to occupy 
 my thoughts ; first, John and his great 
 change, by which I am not left wholly alone 
 to meet the troubles that are yet to come upon 
 me for Jesus Christ's sake; then, our decision 
 to return home immediately, involving much 
 labor on my part in preparing for the journey, 
 and many misgivings and forebodings as to
 
 MASTER HATHORNB'S FAMILY. 263 
 
 the unhappiness our sudden return will bring 
 to our home ; and, lastly, the joyful news that 
 Paul is to labor in our colony, arriving there 
 soon after ourselves, if, indeed, he does not 
 accompany us. 
 
 4 And this last item suggests to me again 
 the subject of which I have already written. 
 Paul will now be so near us that he will 
 probably be able to see Grace occasionally, 
 though I have no hope, alas ! that father will 
 revoke his decision and allow him to become 
 again a visitor of our dwelling. But there 
 will of course be times when he will see our 
 little Grace ; he will not probably make known 
 his love to her for many a day yet, so young 
 she is, yet I know that he will only be more 
 pleased with her as he comes to know her 
 better, and my cherished hopes will yet have 
 their fulfillment. 
 
 "Ah, mother, let me write now to you as 
 I would speak were you with me, as I would 
 plead and pray, with my arms about your 
 neck. Let me ask your favor for Paul, your 
 love for him who is without a home, without a 
 mother. Let me beseech your tender influ-
 
 364 MASTER HATHORNE'S FAMILY. 
 
 ence to bring about a change in dear father's 
 heart, that there may be peace in our home, 
 and that our little pet may be made happy in 
 the lo.'a of so noble a heart. Paul is not bad. 
 He is a Baptist, but he is not wicked. Ah, 
 mother, do not let your kind and charitable 
 heart be led away by the feelings and argu- 
 ments of others, but if you can still love and 
 trust your children, if you can believe that 
 they may still be as dutiful, as loving, as 
 Christian as ever toward their parents, oh ! be 
 willing still to receive to your heart and home 
 one who is your children's friend, and who 
 would be made your own ; and when the time 
 shall come, as I know it will, when he shall 
 ask for our little Grace to make for him a 
 new home better than all he has lost, may he 
 not be doomed to disappointment in his dear- 
 est earthly hopes ! It will be hard for my mo- 
 ther to give up the light and joy of her house- 
 hold, but it will be a noble sacrifice of love." 
 
 " Wednesday ', September 8. For the last 
 two days I have been much employed in pre- 
 parations for our departure, which John thinks
 
 MASTER HATHORNE'S FAMILY. 265 
 
 will take place on the Monday of next week. 
 I have been visiting, with Mary, all the friends 
 whom I have best known, including many 
 poor people who are under Mary's charge 
 and in whom I have great interest. I have 
 learned much from the order and system 
 which Mary uses in her charitable labors, 
 and I hope I shall be able to apply the ex- 
 perience I have acquired here to my own 
 efforts at home. In the afternoons, too, I 
 have ridden with John and walked with Paul 
 and Mary, for I am quite strong again ; but I 
 think I shall do so no more, for such pleasant 
 hours have two bad effects upon me ; first, the 
 more I enjoy, the harder it will be for me to 
 relinquish all the happiness that I find here ; 
 and, secondly, pure as these enjoyments are, 
 I feel that they while away too many pre- 
 cious moments that should be spent in close 
 ana careful preparation for the trials that are 
 so soon to come upon me. I cannot now be 
 too thoughtful ; I cannot spend too much time 
 in prayer ; for I shall need all the strength I 
 can gain from communion with the Father, 
 Son, and Holy Spirit." 
 
 23
 
 CHAPTER XVIII. 
 
 PREPARING FOR A RETURN HOME. 
 
 j|HESE extracts give but a small por- 
 tion of Ruth's diary only enough to 
 show how her faith and love to the 
 Lord had been tested and tried, and how she 
 emerged from the ordeal prepared to obey 
 to the letter the commands of Christ. 
 
 It was with sorrow at leaving their friends 
 so soon that John and Ruth determined to cut 
 their visit short, but their duty lay before 
 them unperformed, and neither could rest 
 until the great step had been taken which 
 should declare them upon the side of the 
 truth of God as he had made it known to 
 them. To say that Ruth looked forward to 
 her baptism with feelings of unalloyed pleas- 
 ure would be far from the truth. Inasmuch 
 as she followed the Saviour's command, and 
 
 266
 
 MASTER HATHORNE'S FAMILY. 267 
 
 felt that she was performing that which would 
 be most pleasing in his sight, she was truly 
 happy ; but there were too many consequences 
 involved in this one act to admit of her joy's 
 perfection. By it she expected that all the 
 circumstances of her life would be changed, 
 and that she would be subjected to trials and 
 sorrows without number. Sometimes, when she 
 thought of the future in store for her, she was 
 almost ready to despair, feeling only too deeply 
 her weakness and inability to cope with strong 
 opposition ; but she was ever cheered by the 
 remembrance that all that she might suffer 
 would be for Christ's sake, and that in all 
 hours of anguish, when weighed down by 
 heaviness of heart, the cross would become 
 her support that cross which she had taken 
 as her burden. 
 
 As for John, his feelings were very different. 
 His struggle had been hard, the contest 
 fierce ; but now that he had conquered and 
 determined for the right, he chafed with 
 impatience at delay, and would not allow any 
 thought of personal ill to enter his mind for 
 an instant. He was like the eager warrior,
 
 268 MASTER HATHORNE'S FAMILY. 
 
 pressing forward to the strife with quick step 
 and hot cheek, thinking not of the danger after 
 the first thrill of excitement has passed over 
 him, and only exulting in the victory he an- 
 ticipates. He longed for the active work, the 
 privations and hardships that he knew it would 
 afford him, and could not understand the 
 timid, shrinking hesitation of his sister. He 
 was very kind to her, nevertheless ; he never 
 spoke to her but with the utmost gentleness, 
 and even when remonstrating with her and 
 exhorting her to be strong and fear not, his 
 voice was ever mild and brotherly, and his 
 loving tenderness had greater influence upon 
 her than any ill-judged harshness of manner 
 would have had. 
 
 John was very busy during the remainder 
 of their stay at the Plantations in settling his 
 business affairs in such a manner that he 
 could return to Boston, but Ruth found many 
 an hour which she could spend in Mr. 
 Williams' study in compliance with his in- 
 vitations and her brother's wishes, listen- 
 ing to the good man's words of instruction 
 and encouragement. Mr. Williams knew,
 
 MASTER HATHORNE'S FAMILY. 269 
 
 far better than either of his young guests, 
 how bitterly they would be opposed, and 
 how hard it would be for them to bear 
 with patience and meekness the stripes that 
 would be laid upon them, often perhaps 
 by the hands of those whom they dearly 
 loved, and it would have been antagonistic 
 to all the impulses of his nature not to af- 
 ford them what help his experience could 
 give. 
 
 Precious hours were those that were spent 
 in conversation between the old disciple and 
 the maiden, Ruth ; and often in after days, 
 when overwhelmed with perplexity and care, 
 she found the good man's words recurring to 
 her mind, proving themselves fraught with 
 golden truth and wisdom, and great was the 
 help she could often give to the dear ones 
 suffering with her by calling to mind the 
 words of him whose trials had been so much 
 like their own, and by applying to their 
 wants the lessons she had received from the 
 lips of the proved disciple of Christ. 
 
 While preparing her for the work that lay 
 before her, discouraging as the contemplation
 
 270 MASTER HATHORNB'S FAMILY. 
 
 of it might be, the good man always spoke 
 cheerfully and hopefully in regard to it. He 
 had no fear that Ruth, weak and helpless as 
 she felt herself to be, would not prove her- 
 self strong in the Lord ; and it was by letting 
 her see the confidence he had that the Lord 
 would strengthen her for the work that he 
 infused p. part of his own hardy faith and 
 vivid hope into her breast. 
 
 It was the day before their departure, which 
 they were obliged to defer till the middle of 
 the week, when Paul met them with a radiant 
 face, his eyes beaming with joy, and gave 
 them the glad tidings that his father's heart 
 had been again opened to him and he was no 
 longer without a home and the love of a 
 parent. It had proved too much for Mr. Wal- 
 lingford ; he, too, needed the genial warmth 
 of love shining upon the cold pathway of his 
 life, and he found his home no longer tenable 
 with the consciousness that he for whom he 
 had prepared and perfected it was banished 
 from its doors by his mandate. He found 
 himself no less lonely than Paul, and he 
 could no longer deny his heart its fondest
 
 MASTER HATHORNE'S FAMILY. 271 
 
 desire, when he learned from the lips of 
 strangers that his son was soon to depart for 
 a long absence. Mr. Wallingford was hasty, 
 but easily repentant ; passionate, but not obsti- 
 nate ; and when once he made the resolve to 
 correct an error nothing, not even the fear of 
 ridicule or contempt, could deter him from 
 accomplishing his purpose. So now, when 
 he saw how blindly angry he had been, he 
 was not slow to retrace his steps, to seek out 
 his son, his only child, and to ask his forgive- 
 ness for his great sin. 
 
 So Paul had gone back to his dearly-loved 
 home and to him who still kept his love for 
 him great and whole as ever; and now he 
 came to give the good tidings to the friends 
 who had mourned with him upon the loss of 
 these blessings. 
 
 John's warm pressure of the hand and heart- 
 felt words of sympathy, as well as the tears 
 of joy that filled the large, dark eyes of Ruth, 
 would well have assured the young man of 
 the truth and depth of their friendship, even 
 had he not known it fully before ; but now 
 their mani.est feeling was all that was re-
 
 272 MASTER HATHORNE'S FAMILY. 
 
 quired to fill to overflowing his heart, and he 
 wept like a little child. 
 
 But there were too many things to occupy 
 the minds of the three friends for them to 
 allow the luxury of this great joy to hold 
 their thoughts too long, and it was not many 
 minutes before they were talking rapidly of 
 the events that were to transpire in the next 
 few days and weeks. Paul could not be 
 ready for his journey to Boston for nearly a 
 month, but as soon as he should arrive there 
 he purposed to seek them out wherever they 
 might be and ah, he hoped it would be at 
 the old home and unite with them as much 
 as possible in their work of the Master. 
 There were many messages to be given, 
 many friends to be remembered, for Paul had 
 not lived in Cambridge for more than a year 
 without forming many acquaintances, which 
 had not all been lost to him when he 
 espoused the cause of the persecuted and 
 despised ; and then, after all that pertained 
 to others had been called to mind and said, 
 there were still left the parting words between 
 the friends themselves.
 
 MASTER HATHORNE'S FAMILY. 273 
 
 The separation was to be a short one, but 
 the three had become so closely united 
 through the medium of their mutual struggles 
 and fears and hopes that it was no light mat- 
 ter, after all, the parting for this one month. 
 
 The reader is aware, too, of that which 
 Ruth and John did not know ; therefore he 
 will not wonder that Paul Wallingford had 
 many a word to say at parting, both of fare- 
 well to those who were to leave him and of 
 greeting and remembrance to the friends so 
 far away. Every moment of delay was pre- 
 cious, every syllable that fell from the lips he 
 watched so closely was music to his ear, and 
 when at last the time was come that he must 
 go away, Paul wandered toward his home 
 with lingering feet, his thoughts recalling 
 over and over again all the joy and the sad- 
 ness of the last hours. 
 
 And Ruth? She slept at last, though only 
 after a long, long watch, wherein the happy 
 past, the present, with its Ruth and Paul and 
 Grace, and the doubtful, troublous future 
 were all passed before her anxious mind.
 
 CHAPTER XIX. 
 
 THE PURITAN RECEPTION OF JOHN AND RUTH. 
 
 T was a bright, sunny afternoon when 
 the little party passed over the neck 
 of land that connected Boston with 
 the main land, and the face of nature was all 
 so gay and smiling that our young travelers 
 were cheered into the hope that the little town 
 that received them so happily would not cast 
 upon them its severe frown and thus give the 
 lie to the propitious mother of all. 
 
 The cool, breezy atmosphere infused a 
 vigor into every member of the party, though 
 they were somewhat wearied by their day's 
 journey, and even the horses they rode 
 stepped lightly and more easily beneath their 
 burdens, while the tired pack-horse plodding 
 along in the rear sniffed gladly the fresh sea- 
 breeze and neighed loudly with satisfaction. 
 
 874
 
 MASTER HATHORNE'S FAMILY. 275 
 
 Long Solomon, who led the advance for 
 Ruth's entreaties and Paul's request had pre- 
 vailed on him to act again as guide halted 
 suddenly after they had fairly entered the 
 town, and waited until John rode up to him ; 
 then he seized his bridle-rein without speak- 
 ing and led him a little apart where they 
 could converse without being overheard. 
 
 " You home again !" he said, in a low 
 voice. " Me know why you come so soon. 
 You and little squaw Baptist like Solomon. 
 Solomon keep lookout, you keep lookout, 
 both help now and then. Solomon know 
 much about Baptist men and Boston men, and 
 he pray for little squaw." 
 
 " Thank you, Solomon ; I know you are a 
 good friend and wish us well. But have no 
 fear for us ! God will take care of us and 
 show us the way out of all straits." John 
 pressed the Indian's hand as he spoke, but 
 seeing, after a little pause, that the guide was 
 not satisfied, he continued : " We are glad of 
 your friendship, and it has already been valu- 
 able to us on many occasions ; you must see 
 me to-morrow and as often as you can while
 
 276 MASTER HATHORNE'S FAMILY. 
 
 you are waiting for Paul ; and I know Ruth 
 will be only too glad " 
 
 "Yes, yes, me know!" interrupted Solo- 
 mon, with an impatient wave of the hand. 
 " But look out, watch ! Solomon always ready 
 for help you. He knows the strong house 
 and can help away ; save you." 
 
 " Ah, you are afraid for us !" said John, as 
 the Indian's meaning dawned on his mind. 
 " You mean you can help us if we are perse- 
 cuted. Ah, good friend, God will be the only 
 helper then ; for if we are called upon to suf- 
 fer for his sake, we must not try to escape the 
 trial without his manifest approval. We may 
 be imprisoned, but it will be God alone who 
 can set us free, for it would be deserting our 
 cause to show that we are unwilling to suffer 
 for it. No, Solomon, you are kind and 
 thoughtful, but there must be nc desertion of 
 the right, and God would be little pleased if 
 we were to shirk our duty." 
 
 The Indian stood in silence for a moment ; 
 then he looked up suddenly, as if all doubt 
 had been driven from his mind, and said, as 
 he looked away uneasily to where Ruth was
 
 MASTER HATHORNE'S FAMILY. 277 
 
 sitting upon her horse waiting for John s ap- 
 proach: "She must be suffer never! No 
 harm be to little squaw while Solomon lives 
 and can help ! Me saw Indian runner in 
 woods this morning, and he tell how white 
 faces be angry with you and Paul and little 
 squaw, and how a man come from Plantation 
 and tell, and how the teacher talk at other 
 day meeting, yesterday no ! day 'fore then. 
 They know all : the man tell them. Send for 
 me for save you ; me be in hut over river." 
 
 So saying, and waiting for no word of 
 reply, Solomon turned abruptly away and 
 left John to pursue his way without him. 
 
 There were contending emotions in the 
 young man's breast as he rejoined his sister 
 and their attendants. He felt sorry that the 
 tidings of the great change in his opinions 
 had reached his parents from other lips than 
 his own, but at the same time it was a relief 
 that the first shock of sorrow upon the loved 
 ones would not now be witnessed by himself 
 and Ruth, for he knew what pain the sight of 
 their sorrow would inflict upon both. 
 
 As they rode on slowly toward their home,
 
 278 MASTER HATHORNB'S FAMILT. 
 
 he communicated to Ruth the tidings he had 
 just received from the Indian, that she might 
 be fully prepared for anything that should 
 occur upon their arrival ; and Ruth, as well 
 as he, was glad that there would be no long 
 suspense for them, but that all would be 
 known, the real feelings and the true bearing 
 of their parents toward them, immediately 
 upon their reaching home. Yet it was 
 with aching, yearning hearts that they neared 
 the familiar dwelling, and the hand of the 
 maiden trembled as she restrained the eager 
 horse, impatient for his stall, and she would 
 fain have had one little moment to herself to 
 weep and pray ere the great sorrow that she 
 so much feared should come upon her. But 
 they were now only a short distance from the 
 home that they had left in peace and hap- 
 piness two months before, and there must be 
 no delay now that they were returning to find 
 it disturbed and afflicted, they knew, and 
 perhaps a home for them no longer. 
 
 The streets were quite still as they passed 
 on, for it was Saturday and the hours of the 
 sacred day were near at hand. They met
 
 MASTER HATHORNE'S FAMILY. 279 
 
 not more than two or three persons who were 
 well known to them. But it was plain 
 enough to the eyes of the sad travelers that 
 the recognition of these few was far colder 
 than the Puritan frigidity of manners would 
 require or even warrant,' in one instance, 
 where two stood conversing together upon the 
 corner of the street, John saw them shake 
 their heads ominously after the little caval- 
 cade had passed, and overheard a few words 
 of sympathy expressed for Master Hathorne 
 in his great affliction. He turned his eyes 
 quickly to Ruth's face, hoping that she might 
 not have heard the words, but the bright tear 
 glistening on her pale cheek told him that they 
 had reached her ear and sent the first winged 
 arrow to her heart. 
 
 It was but a little time before they turned 
 from the street into the paved courtyard be- 
 fore the door of their home. Anxiously and 
 with straining eyes they scanned the windows 
 of the dwelling for the sight of some one of 
 the dear faces, and the heart of Ruth leaped 
 with joy as she saw the door open quickly 
 and her mother, whose keen ear had caught
 
 280 MASTER HATHORNE'S FAMILY. 
 
 the sound of the horses' hoofs on the stones, 
 stand with outstretched arms upon the thresh- 
 old, waiting to receive them. 
 
 But were there no others to welcome them? 
 Would not the father, would not Grace, little 
 Grace, and Willie greet those who had been 
 so long absent? They knew not; their mother 
 was alone. 
 
 But whatever might be in store for them, it 
 was very dear to have their mother's loving 
 embrace and her warm kiss of welcome, 
 though poor Ruth could only lay her head 
 on her breast and weep long and silently, as 
 she thought how pained and sad was the 
 heart that still gave her its undiminished 
 love, that still remained unchanged in its 
 affection, though all others should be em- 
 bittered even to anger. 
 
 It was hard for John to remain unmoved 
 while he witnessed the emotion of his mother 
 and sister, and he hurried away to his own 
 chamber, that they might feel no restraint 
 upon their conversation, rightly judging that 
 the mother and daughter could better inter- 
 change their feelings and thoughts if the ear
 
 MASTER HATHORNE'S FAMILY. 281 
 
 of no other, even though a son and brother, 
 should listen to their words. 
 
 He stopped a moment as he passed his 
 mother's room upon the second floor, for he 
 heard a child's voice within which he knew 
 to be Willie's. As he entered the apartment 
 he hesitated and drew back an instant ; Grace 
 v/as there, sitting at the window, her face 
 buried in her hands and weeping bitterly. 
 
 " Don't cry, Grace !" little Will was saying, 
 while he stood before her looking up anxious- 
 ly into her face. " I guess sister Ruth will 
 be good. I guess she don't want to be cross 
 and naughty if she is a Baptist, and I shall 
 let her kiss me " 
 
 The child turned and saw John upon the 
 threshold ; in an instant he was in the strong 
 arms held out to him and his own little hands 
 were clasped tightly behind his brother's 
 neck. Grace started quickly from her chair 
 as she heard John's well-known voice speak- 
 ing her name, but after a single hasty step 
 toward him she stopped, turned away again 
 to the window, and sobbed as if her very 
 heart were breaking with its grief. 
 
 24*
 
 282 MASTER HATHORNE'S FAMILY. 
 
 Poor John ! He read it all at a single 
 glance. He saw the love of the heart trampled 
 under foot; the warm feelings of kindred 
 shackled ; the spontaneous outburst of affec- 
 tion restrained by the iron hand of prejudice ; 
 and as he advanced into the room and seated 
 himself upon the low couch on which Willie 
 slept, he felt that the first great trial had come, 
 upon his soul, and an aching, burning wound 
 already convulsed his heart with an agony 
 greater, it seemed, than he could bear. But 
 he calmed himself, and his voice was steady 
 and firm as he took Grace by the hand and 
 drew her to his side. 
 
 " Dear sister, dear little Grace, do not sob 
 so !" he said. " I know you love me as well 
 as ever, and that you and mother and little 
 Willie will never thrust us out of your hearts, 
 though you may be forced to treat us coldly. 
 Never believe that we can think ill of you ! 
 I know that even father still loves us, though 
 he rejects us in obeying what he thinks to be 
 the call of duty. Ruth and I are still yours, 
 still will love and cherish you, though you 
 yield to father's wishes and commands, how-
 
 MASTER HATHORNE'S FAMILT. 283 
 
 ever harsh they may be. And, little Grace, as 
 Willie is bold enough to do what he knows 
 is right, to run to his brother's arms, to offer 
 his sweet kiss to Ruth, so do you do all you 
 can to make all happy and to show father that 
 though he takes our home from us, he can 
 never deprive us of the love of that home." 
 
 Grace could not speak. She leaned her 
 head on John's shoulder, the great sobs still 
 racking her frail form, and as he raised his 
 hand to her cheek and tried to soothe her dis- 
 tress, she kissed it again and again with pas- 
 sionate earnestness. 
 
 And thus they sat until the setting sun cast 
 his golden rays into the room, and on the 
 opposite wall a flood of light-ripples shimmer- 
 ed a little while and then faded quite away. 
 Grace still rested at his side, half fearful that 
 she was disobeying her father's command, 
 yet joyful that she was once more encircled 
 by that strong, brotherly arm; little Willie 
 nestled close upon the other side ; and John, 
 caressing both, now talked with Grace and 
 now with the child of what had occurred 
 during his absence, seeking only with kindly
 
 284 MASTER HATHORNE' S FA MILT. 
 
 art to hold their thoughts, for a little time at 
 least, from the great, distressing theme. 
 
 Once or twice as they talked, Willie was 
 reminded of Ruth, and would have run to 
 her instantly had not -John restrained him, 
 saying that she would come to them soon. 
 He was easily diverted, and prattled on about 
 some new toy he had received or some plan 
 for future play that had entered his little head. 
 Then the twilight deepened into dark, and 
 still there was no sound from below, and their 
 mother and Ruth did not come. 
 
 But let us enter another apartment in the 
 mansion ; let us see the father who did not 
 welcome his children home, and who had laid 
 the command upon the others of his house- 
 hold that they should show by their outward 
 demeanor that they could hold no intercourse 
 with heretics. 
 
 In a small room that adjoined the family- 
 room and which was used by Mr. Hathorne 
 as a sort of office or study if the word may 
 be applied to the private apartment of a man 
 who was no more of a scholar than was 
 Ezekiel Hathorne the worthy Puritan was
 
 MASTER HATHORNE'S FAMILY. 285 
 
 pacing back and forth in a state of restless 
 activity that had become almost painful to his 
 companion, who was no other than his spirit- 
 ual teacher, Master Wilson. 
 
 Mr. Hathorne had witnessed the arrival of 
 his children as he stood at the window be- 
 hind the closed shutters ; he had seen his wife 
 welcome them, as she had before said she 
 must do ; and his own heart had yearned to 
 greet them also, notwithstanding the stern 
 resolution he had made to show no sign of 
 favor or love for any one who could turn 
 away from the Puritan faith, even though 
 that person should be his own child. It had 
 been hard for him to gaze upon Ruth's pale, sad 
 face, the dear face he had not seen for months, 
 the face of the darling of his love, and not bend 
 over it and kiss the lips that would have 
 smiled so sweetly upon him. His brow 
 contracted and the moisture came to his eyes 
 in spite of all his efforts to command his feel- 
 ings, and he was fain to turn away and begin 
 his nervous walk to and fro, to and fro, in the 
 little room. He could not hide his emotion 
 from the keen eyes of the minister, but the
 
 286 MASTER HATHORNE'S FAMILY. 
 
 latter imputed it only to the good man's sor- 
 row at the great affliction that had fallen 
 upon him. 
 
 For some time neither of the two had spo- 
 ken, for Mr. Hathorne could hardly trust his 
 voice and the other was a little discomposed 
 at witnessing the afflicted father's grief, when 
 suddenly the former stopped in his hasty walk 
 and threw himself heavily into the great 
 oaken arm-chair with a deep groan. 
 
 " I have sinned ! I have sinned I" he cried, 
 bitterly. "'I have sinned greatly in that I 
 have done I' Oh, that I had never consented 
 to my daughter's absence from home and its 
 influence ; for she, at least, might have been 
 saved from the sleight of men and their cun- 
 ning craftiness." 
 
 *' It is not your sin," answered Master Wil- 
 son, solemnly; "it is the sin of those who 
 have poisoned the ear and corrupted the heart, 
 not of the Christian father who would have 
 kept his children near the Lord." 
 
 " But I placed them in the way of tempta- 
 tion, and when they wished to go to that evil 
 colony would that it were swept from the
 
 MASTER HATHORNE'S FAMILT. 287 
 
 face of the earth ! I did not hinder them. 
 Upon my conscience rests the stain, and I 
 alone can satisfy God by repentance and the 
 atonement of suffering." 
 
 " You are too severe, too self-criminating, 
 good Master Hathorne. Truly it is hard to 
 see a brother in distress, and I pity you, but 
 you make the case too hard. Both of your 
 children, of an age responsible for itself and 
 its deeds, are subject to our Lord's displeas- 
 ure, but you are free. Let not the agony of 
 the father's heart, as he sees his children for- 
 sake the way of truth to become heretics, and 
 therefore deluded sinners, be increased by 
 useless accusations of self." 
 
 "My cup is full of bitterness ; it runneth 
 over. This gall of heresy is presented to my 
 lips by my own loved ones. How can I bear 
 to see them drink of it, even though I taste 
 not of it myself?" 
 
 "They have sinned, my brother in Christ, 
 but, though their sin be great, there may yet 
 be forgiveness for it. I cannot exhort you not 
 to grieve, for what could pain a father's heart 
 more than to see his offspring departing from
 
 288 MASTER HATHORNE'S FAMILY. 
 
 the truth ? But remember your duty, and let 
 them be turned to repentance. God hath 
 given thee wisdom to deny the dictates of the 
 heart, to show them that in turning from 
 God's way they have turned also from their 
 earthly father's home and love. Be strong 
 and persevere, and God in his mercy will yet 
 bless thee." 
 
 " I will be calm. I will not let the feelings 
 of the father triumph over the duties of the 
 Christian," Mr. Hathorne cried as he sprang 
 hastily to his feet and recommenced his walk. 
 " If my children are not saved, it shall not be 
 through their father's neglect. But do you 
 help me, my guide and teacher. Pray for 
 and support me, and to-morrow tell my afflic- 
 tion to the church, and let the people pray for 
 the removal of this dreadful blight that has 
 come upon me." 
 
 Even as he spoke the door leading to the 
 adjoining room was thrust a little open, then 
 hesitatingly closed, while the sweet voice of 
 Ruth was plainly heard in the room, saying : 
 
 " No, mother, I cannot stay merely because 
 a stranger will witness our meeting. If father
 
 MASTER HATHORNE'S FAMILY. 289 
 
 will not come to me, I must go to him, and 
 God will be with me." 
 
 In the next instant the door was flung 
 back, and Ruth had thrown her arms about 
 her father's neck and was weeping upon his 
 breast. For a few moments the father forgot 
 the words he had been uttering so lately. 
 His darling's head rested once more on his 
 bosom, her dear arms were around his neck, 
 and the old days all came back again to his 
 mind with such force that he could not think 
 that they were gone for ever. But such reflec- 
 tions could not be harbored long, for the eye 
 of Master Wilson was upon him, and no show 
 of weakness either of the man or the Chris- 
 tian could be permitted in the presence of the 
 teacher of the First Church. Mr. Hathorne 
 gently but firmly disengaged his daughter's 
 embrace and held her away from him at arm's 
 length, while he gazed steadily into her weep- 
 ing eyes. Thus for a moment he stood in 
 silence, nerving himself for the task before 
 him, and when he spoke at last, it was with a 
 voice of strong resolve and unbending pur- 
 pose, hard and cruel. 
 
 25 T
 
 290 MASTER HATHORNE'S FAMILY. 
 
 "Ruth Hathorne Ruth no longer to me, 
 for thy beauty hath faded away with thy faith 
 in the Lord's truth thou hast cast away thy 
 father from thee as a worthless thing, and 
 now thou comest back to weep upon his 
 bosom ! There is no longer rest for thee 
 there ; and the roof that shelters thy kindred 
 must no longer shelter thee, the God-forsaken 
 heretic. I cannot turn thee out into the night. 
 Remain here till morning, then seek another 
 home in the hours of the day sacred to him 
 whom thou hast already wronged." 
 
 The cold formality, the forced heartlessness 
 of the words were to the trembling maiden 
 what the foaming, dashing, cruel waves are 
 to the fragile flowers of the sea. She had 
 begun to hope in that little instant that she 
 had passed in his silent embrace, but now the 
 shock was only the more severe, and a weary 
 blank fell upon the heart that had so yearned 
 for words of love and sympathy. 
 
 He released his iron hold upon her arm, 
 and she sank heavily to the floor. Her 
 embrace was now that of a suppliant, as 
 she clung to his feet, praying him for his
 
 Master Hathorne's Family. 
 
 Page 290.
 
 MASTER HATHORNE'S FAMILY. 291 
 
 mercy, but he heeded her not, and only 
 looked away to the aged man, who was the 
 minister of God, with a smile of conscious 
 rectitude upon his lips. And when the maiden 
 cried in her anguish : " Father, be kind to 
 me, for the love you used to have for me, 
 for the sake of Christ, whose servants we 
 are !" he turned away and left her fainting 
 upon the floor. 
 
 And then the aged Wilson, whose heart 
 was really tender and who pitied sincerely 
 the stricken child, but who was led by a 
 conscience blinded by prejudice, approached 
 her as she lay still and motionless, her face 
 buried in her hands. 
 
 "My daughter!" he said, kindly, and the 
 sound of the strange voice aroused her, "be 
 not utterly cast down, but repent of this griev- 
 ous sin and turn again to the way of truth. 
 There is yet time for penitence and forgive- 
 ness." Then he turned away to Mr. Ha- 
 thorne and said in a low voice. "My brother, 
 you have done what is right before the Lord, 
 and he will bless thee. The church shall 
 know thy sorrow and comfort thee."
 
 392 MASTER HATHORNE'S FAMILY. 
 
 When the mother and daughter were again 
 alone, Ruth calmed herself and wiped her 
 mother's tears, and prayed her ever to love 
 the banished daughter, who would always 
 think of her, remember her blessed teach- 
 ings, and feel that whatever should come 
 there would still remain one heart whose 
 love would be undiminished and perfect as 
 in the happiest days. 
 
 Then with lingering steps and sad hearts 
 they went to meet the other dear ones who 
 had been waiting for them so long, and 
 though there was sorrow in all their hearts 
 when Ruth narrated to them what had taken 
 place in the study, though there were many 
 tears shed in thinking that their little band 
 was broken henceforth, they yet rejoiced that 
 they could still love each other in adversity, 
 and could pray that all might yet meet again 
 in the better land.
 
 CHAPTER XIX. 
 
 GOODMAN LOWE'S HOME. 
 
 |N the early morning of the Lord's 
 Day, after the cheerless breakfast 
 of which the father would not partake, 
 John Hathorne sallied forth in quest of a 
 home for himself and Ruth. The streets of 
 the little town were quiet, as if the inhabitants 
 still slept. Only the leaves upon the trees 
 rustled with a subdued murmuring ; the birds 
 sang blithely in the clear, cool air ; the sun- 
 beams flashed upon the dancing wavelets of 
 the bay ; all nature seemed at rest yet 
 rejoicing and giving praise to God. There 
 was no discordance in the outward world, no 
 troublous turbulence, no strife. Alas ! that in 
 the heart of man, for whom all else was made, 
 should be dissension and the blinding storm 
 of pride, fanaticism, and passion. 
 
 26 * 293
 
 294 MASTER HATHORNE'S FAMILY. 
 
 John was not wholly without guide in his 
 efforts ; the old family servant who could not 
 suffer the frail Ruth, whom she had nursed 
 as an infant, to wander forth from her father's 
 roof while she remained inactive had directed 
 John to a family living at the extreme north 
 part of the peninsula, and which she had 
 often served in times of sickness. Goodman 
 Lowe was already known to John, though he 
 was but little acquainted with the members of 
 his family from the circumstance that they 
 were all Baptists a fact that had hitherto 
 kept him from them, as it now was the cause 
 of bringing them together. The old servant, 
 Prudence, was a strong Puritan in everything 
 but the spirit of intolerance ; and though she 
 despised all forms of heresy, she would never 
 turn away from the heretic himself if he had 
 any need of her sympathy or aid. She had 
 been a good friend to many a family in the 
 little town, and she felt sure that if she now 
 asked of this one the favor of shelter for her 
 loved ones, the request would not be denied. 
 
 Nor was the good old servant mistaken in 
 the opinion she had formed. It was an easy
 
 MASTER HATHORNE'S FAMILY. 295 
 
 matter for John to gain admittance beneath 
 the roof of so benevolent a man as Goodman 
 Lowe. He had only to state his need and 
 why his own home was closed against him 
 to enlist the heartfelt sympathies of each 
 member of the family, and to ensure both for 
 himself and Ruth the most cordial welcome. 
 
 The streets were filled with people wending 
 their way to the meeting-house as he passed 
 again to the familiar dwelling of his father. 
 Neighbors and friends he was forced to meet ; 
 some of them greeted him as usual, but many 
 passed him by without recognition, and he 
 was glad when he turned out of the street 
 into the garden before the house. 
 
 Sadly but swiftly Ruth made the necessary 
 preparations for their departure. All that 
 they needed they could not take with them, 
 of course, on the Lord's Day, but they would 
 be sent to them in the following week. As 
 usual, all the family were at meeting in the 
 accustomed seats, not even the mother, whose 
 heart yearned after her absent children, being 
 suffered by the stern Puritan to remain at 
 home.
 
 296 MASTER HATHORNE'S FAMILY. 
 
 The last act of the weeping maiden was to 
 place the journal of her visit upon her mother's 
 table, where she would be sure to find it upon 
 returning ; and then with many a longing 
 glance into the silent rooms, whose doors 
 stood open upon the hall, and with many 
 a prayer that God would bless the loved ones 
 left behind, and lead them to think often with 
 pity and love of the exiled brother and sister, 
 the two went forth into the deserted streets 
 and turned toward their new abode. 
 
 Even as they passed the door of the dear 
 old meeting-house, which they might enter no 
 more, the aged pastor, all unknown to them, 
 was reading from a little slip of paper the re- 
 quest of Mr. Hathorne that his terrible afflic- 
 tion might be alleviated by the divine blessing, 
 besought by the prayers of his Christian 
 brethren. And as the hearts of the congre- 
 gation were stirred against them, the brother 
 and sister, the true sufferers, with the hand of 
 the Lord to uphold them, went their way to 
 their home with strangers. 
 
 Goodman Lowe's family consisted of his 
 wife and three children, one son and two
 
 MASTER HATHORNE'S FAM1LT. 297 
 
 daughters. John was assigned a room in the 
 loft with the son, while Ruth was given a 
 pleasant apartment upon the second floor 
 looking out over the waters of the bay toward 
 Noddle's Island. It was with joy that she 
 learned that she was to occupy the room alone, 
 for she knew that there yet remained for hei 
 many sad hours in the future, when she would 
 think it no small blessing to be able to steal 
 away to her bedside and weep and pray in 
 solitude. As for John, it made less difference 
 to him that he must have a companion to 
 share his room. He would be away the 
 greater part of the day, and in his leisure 
 hours Ruth would be only too glad to have 
 him find in her apartment quiet and rest. 
 
 There was one subject upon which they 
 were doomed to disappointment, and it was a 
 bitter disappointment indeed to Ruth. They 
 had hoped that John, as he would still remain 
 in his father's business for Mr. Hathorne 
 could not find it for his interest to allow his 
 son, though a heretic, to withdraw from this 
 connection with himself would have many 
 opportunities of hearing from the dear ones
 
 298 MASTER HATHORNE'S FAMILY. 
 
 at home and of communicating with them ; 
 but upon the first attempt of John with this 
 end in view, the stern Puritan father com- 
 manded that it should never be repeated. 
 They could speak together of business affairs, 
 but no further word must pass between them, 
 no mention of mother or sister or brother. 
 What part had Baptists with Puritans? or 
 what relations existed longer between the 
 banished children and those of the home cir- 
 cle? The hope must be given up, and, even 
 more than that, John clearly saw the impossi- 
 bility of any duration of business connection 
 between father and son when in all else they 
 were estranged ; and he felt that for his own 
 peace, if for naught else, he must soon take 
 the steps that should make the separation com- 
 plete, if indeed his father himself did not first 
 have recourse to the measure. 
 
 The first week in their new home passed 
 away. It was Sunday evening again, and 
 John and Ruth sat together in her room, look- 
 ing out over the waters silvered by the rays 
 of the full moon. They had attended for the 
 first time the religious services of the little
 
 MASTER HATIIORNE'S FAMILY, 299 
 
 band of Baptists gathered in Charlestown, 
 who had been organized into a church in the 
 preceding May. Both had been deeply im- 
 pressed by the solemnity of the service, held 
 as it was beneath the shelter of no roof and 
 with the dread uncertainty hanging over the 
 assembly of the action of their enemies, ex- 
 cited by the calm persistency of the little 
 church in its Christian duty. 
 
 Now Ruth was speaking of the duty that 
 still remained for them to perform, and which 
 had been pressed upon their minds with re- 
 newed force by what they had seen and heard 
 in the morning. 
 
 ' ' I think the agony of Peter must have 
 been insufferable when he had thrice denied 
 his Lord," she said, after a little silence. " I 
 feel that every day I live without baptism I 
 in a manner deny my Saviour, and the 
 thought is often torture to me." 
 
 "But you are prevented by circumstances 
 entirely beyond your control, and therefore 
 you are wrong in feeling thus," John answer- 
 ed. "We are both desirous from our very 
 hearts to obey the Master's command ; and,
 
 300 MASTER HATHORNB'S FAMILY. 
 
 God be thanked ! he looks not only at the nit- 
 ward act, but at the heart of man." 
 
 " I know I should not let this distress me 
 and indeed it does not when I think calmly 
 upon it but we are so peculiarly placed that 
 I cannot always reflect as deliberately as I 
 ought. The eyes of the whole town are upon 
 us to-day, and I often feel that there may be 
 many who are doubting the strength of our 
 resolution and of our zeal, as they see the de- 
 lay for which they know no reason." 
 
 "But you forget. So much has happened 
 in the last few days you do not realize it is 
 only a week since we returned. Poor sister! 
 you have been lonely, too, and the hours have 
 seemed long, I know. But do not be trou- 
 bled, for the next Lord's Day will witness our 
 baptism, and all will know that we have 
 indeed chosen Christ's way and are trying to 
 follow in his footsteps. My only regret is 
 that none of our family can be present ; but 
 we cannot tell what may be God's will. He 
 often leads men to think deeply and to act 
 boldly through means the very opposite to 
 those we would have chosen."
 
 MASTER HATHORNE'S FAMILY. 301 
 
 " I do not fear for our dear ones, for I be- 
 lieve they are Christians, though of Grace, it 
 is true, we cannot be sure, for she has never 
 spoken of a change of heart, nor has she ever 
 conversed with me about such thoughts and 
 feelings as you and I have often talked of 
 together. But God will have them all in his 
 holy keeping." 
 
 They sat for a time in silence. As Ruth 
 gazed out upon the waters and the confining 
 shores, the hills rising in dark outline against 
 the sky, and then the sky itself studded with 
 countless stars, with the cold, pale moon mov- 
 ing on amid the host like a stately queen 
 surrounded by her court, the words of the 
 Psalmist came into her mind, and in a low, 
 sweet voice she repeated the passage of the 
 divinely-inspired poem: "When I consider 
 thy heavens, the work of thy fingers ; the 
 moon and the stars, which thou hast ordained ; 
 what is man, that thou art mindful of him? 
 and the son of man, that thou visitest him? 
 For thou hast made him a little lower than 
 the angels, and hast crowned him with glory 
 and honor. 
 
 26
 
 302 MASTER HATHORNE'S FAMILY. 
 
 Then as she returned again from the 
 thought of the great goodness of God in giv- 
 ing to her his love and care and protection, to 
 the remembrance of the coming event in 
 which she was to consecrate herself before 
 the eyes of men to the service of his only- 
 begotten Son, the whole beauty and signifi- 
 cance of the act came more vividly than ever 
 before her, and she said : 
 
 "I think I have never realized before so 
 fully as I now do the importance of baptism 
 even apart from the fact that it is commanded 
 by Christ. It seems to bind the Christian by 
 so many obligations, and must surely keep 
 him ever nearer the truth by its sacred mem- 
 ories and holy anticipations ; for it seems to 
 me it is an act not only of the present nor for 
 the past alone, but for all the future. It looks 
 forward as much as it looks backward. It 
 shows our death with Christ and our rising to 
 a new and endless life ; I shall hope always 
 to remember this and to live separated from 
 the world, and in all things to be Christ's own 
 disciple, leaning upon his wisdom and coun- 
 sel, and following without question whither he
 
 MASTER HATHORNE'S FAMILT. 303 
 
 may lead. Ah, John, how happy we are in 
 the consciousness that he is pleased with us, 
 as we give ourselves, in the way he ordained, 
 to his service !" 
 
 "To obedience, to close imitation of his 
 example and perfect life, to submission to his 
 will, whether it seem to us harsh or kind 
 nay, rather to believe it always kind, to think 
 that he can be never any other than our loving 
 and gracious Lord !" 
 
 John paused as he spoke, for the thought 
 was overwhelming for the moment. 
 
 ' ' Rightly is baptism placed at the very 
 starting-post of the Christian race," he con- 
 tinued, "for by it we learn that nothing is 
 more important than to be ready and willing 
 in every event of life, from day to day and 
 hour to hour, to confess our calling and our 
 love for the Master. More than this, the re- 
 membrance of Christ's death for us and our 
 death with him and rising with him to a new 
 life, a life that shall never end, this will 
 make us strong where we might otherwise 
 be weak, unfaltering in our devotion where 
 we might be tempted to look backward
 
 34 MASTER HATHORNB'S FAMILY. 
 
 from the work to which we have put our 
 hands." 
 
 "'Be thou faithful unto death and I will 
 give thee a crown of life,'" repeated Ruth, 
 thoughtfully. "I am not afraid, dear John, 
 that in this ordinance God will not bless us. 
 I am not afraid that we shall ever repent the 
 step that makes us wholly his, not only in his 
 sight, but in the sight of angels and of men. 
 Nor am I afraid to take upon myself, weak as 
 I am, the responsibilities which it imposes 
 upon me, for I know that God will help me, 
 and that the harder the labor becomes, the 
 more strength I shall receive from on high. 
 Whenever I tremble, as I sometimes do as I 
 think of the struggles that may lie before us, 
 the remembrance of Christ's words gives me 
 courage and hope ; for I can never forget that 
 he said : ' Let not your heart be troubled : 
 ye believe in God, believe also in me ;' and in- 
 stead of fearing as I once should have done, 
 when he says : ' I will come again, and re- 
 ceive you unto myself, that where I am, there 
 ye may be also,' I can only whisper, 'Amen, 
 Even so come, Lord Jesus.' "
 
 CHAPTER XX. 
 
 GRACE HATHORNK VISITS RUTH. 
 
 |OHN could not long delay what he 
 plainly saw to be his duty. If his 
 father could not suffer him to dwell 
 beneath the roof that sheltered the rest of the 
 loved ones, was it right to labor in common 
 with him, and thus say to the world that all 
 the tenderest ties of affection could be rudely 
 strained and snapped for the sake of truth, 
 while the claims of business and self-interest 
 could assert their supremacy? Clearly not. 
 In accordance with this decision, John took 
 early occasion to talk with his father, and 
 firmly but respectfully to decline any farther 
 connection with the business of which he had 
 been so long the chief support. 
 
 When this step had been taken, both John 
 
 M * U 305
 
 306 MASTER HATHORNE'S FAMILY. 
 
 and Ruth were much more at ease, for the 
 position in which they stood was much more 
 clearly defined, not only to their own eyes, 
 but to the eyes of others. It grieved them 
 both that they must be so completely severed 
 from all connection with those they loved so 
 dearly ; but as the ripe fruit, hung just above 
 his reach, is only a means of adding to the 
 pangs of the starving man, so the daily occur- 
 rence of the means of learning of their dear 
 ones while that means could never be used 
 was a torture to the brother and sister which 
 they were not sorry to escape. 
 
 Besides, Ruth could not help cherishing the 
 hope that John's act might in some way be 
 the means of changing her father's cruel re- 
 solve. A sad revelation had been made to 
 her upon that memorable night when she 
 had informed her parents of Paul's conversion 
 and of his open avowal of Baptist principles. 
 Since that time she had never been able to 
 reverence so fully her father's character ; she 
 was compelled, though unwillingly, to own to 
 herself that there was weakness where she 
 had before seen only noble strength and
 
 MASTER HATHORNE'S FAMILY. 307 
 
 Christian constancy ; and she dared to think 
 sometimes that perhaps his heart might yet 
 be turned, even though it should be by the 
 baser means of personal profit. 
 
 But no such thought entered the mind of 
 John. He cared less for his banishment 
 from home, for he was every day out in the 
 busy world, active and intent on occupations 
 that held his own mind and energy. There 
 was less suffering therefore on his part than 
 on that of the maiden, who sat alone in her 
 chamber with nothing to withdraw her 
 thoughts from the days gone by, or who at 
 most could enjoy only the companionship of 
 comparative strangers, that were kind indeed, 
 but could not give the full and satisfying love 
 which she needed. 
 
 .Indeed, so different was John's nature from 
 that of his patient, forgiving, and loving sister 
 that even if his father had recalled them to 
 their home, under the influence of such a 
 worldly motive, the high spirit of the young 
 man would have proudly refused the proffered 
 favor. Ruth, however, needed the peace and 
 joys of home too much to reject them if with-
 
 308 MASTER HATHORNE'S FAMILY. 
 
 in her reach, and she would have asked only 
 a hint from her father, prompted by whatso- 
 ever motive, to return at once and forget in 
 the joy of her heart all the trouble of the 
 past. 
 
 But it was not so to be. Day after day 
 went by ; another week was drawing near its 
 close ; still no word from home came to cheer 
 them and bid them rejoice. 
 
 It was on the evening of Friday, when the 
 streets of the town were shrouded in the dark 
 folds of the garment of night, that the inmates 
 of Goodman Lowe's dwelling were alarmed 
 by the loud knock of authority upon the outer 
 door and the voice of the sheriff demanding 
 admission. Both Ruth and John were sitting 
 with the family in the lower room when this 
 rude disturbance occurred, and it was with 
 trembling hearts that they looked upon each 
 other as they were convinced of the character 
 of the visitors. John passed quietly round to 
 where Ruth was sitting, and stood with one 
 hand resting easily upon the back of her 
 chair, as their host advanced to open the 
 door.
 
 MASTER HATHORNE'S FAMILT. 309 
 
 The officers entered immediately, and press- 
 ed forward even into the room where the 
 family were gathered. They drew back, 
 however, on observing the little group about 
 the table, and the sheriff motioned his assist- 
 ants to retire. He then demanded in a loud 
 voice the surrender of the person of Thomas 
 Gold, charged with holding fellowship with and 
 aiding in their convocations, made contrary 
 to the statute, the body of Anabaptists calling 
 itself a church established in Charlestown. 
 
 Goodman Lowe's cheek had paled as he 
 heard the first words of the official, but when 
 the name of the person sought was mentioned 
 his great relief was as apparent as his fear 
 had been. It would have ill accorded with 
 his feelings, with the love he had conceived 
 in the last two weeks for Ruth and John, 
 to have seen either of them taken from the 
 hospitality of his roof to the narrow walls of 
 the Boston prison. 
 
 "Thomas Gold is not here," he said. 
 "Why do you seek him here and so rudely 
 interrupt our peace and quiet? Thomas 
 Gold will be best found at his own home."
 
 313 MASTER HATHORNB'S FAMILT. 
 
 " I was told I should find him here if 1 
 made haste. The law often requires such 
 prompt action of its servants that we must 
 sometimes appear too hasty. Has not Gold 
 been here to-night?" 
 
 "Goodman Gold was here an hour ago, 
 but I know nothing further about him. I 
 suppose he is at his home on the island." 
 
 The officer withdrew almost as abruptly as 
 he had entered, and as he passed through the 
 hall to the door they heard him order one of 
 his assistants to get a boat ready to cross to 
 Noddle's Island, where Goodman Gold dwelt. 
 The little group in the cheerfully lighted 
 room laid aside whatever occupations they 
 had been engaged in, all their thoughts and 
 interests centring in this new and long-feared 
 event. They could only imagine the scene 
 at the quiet home of Thomas Gold, the terror 
 and anguish of the loving family whose head 
 was so suddenly taken away from them to 
 suffer they knew not what. The damp walls 
 of the prison, the cruel scourge, the torture of 
 the branding iron, or the executioner's dread 
 array, all arose in an instant before their
 
 MASTER HATHORNE'S FAMILY. 311 
 
 eyes. Such things had been before. Why 
 should they not be again? The law against 
 Baptists had long been in existence, with no 
 victim besides those three noble men who had 
 suffered in the summer of 1651. Would it 
 not now be the more greedy after its long 
 fast? They dared not hope that this first 
 step had been taken for naught, that Good- 
 man Gold was arrested only to be set free 
 again with no punishment. They had seen, 
 alas ! what the magistrates could do against 
 the enemies of their faith, and they could not 
 expect that the dreadful heresy of the Ana- 
 baptists would receive more favor than hac* 
 been shown to that of others. 
 
 John had been much agitated by the event 
 that had occurred, fearing only its effects 
 upon his sister, whose delicate and sensitive 
 organization, he knew, was little able to bear 
 so rude a shock. But he was surprised be- 
 yond measure to see her calm and composed 
 as she would have been had an old friend 
 called upon the family, and to hear her speak 
 with a firm voice upon the sufferings that they 
 might yet have to endure.
 
 312 MASTER HATHORNE'S FAMILY. 
 
 For a long time nothing could be thought 
 of save the sorrow that would be brought 
 into the little family dwelling upon the island, 
 and it was resolved that Goodman Lowe and 
 his wife should visit them early in the morn- 
 ing and allay their fears as much as possible ; 
 though they felt that it would be almost a 
 hopeless task. However, it was only a Chris- 
 tian duty they were to perform, and Ruth 
 secretly determined to go with them. 
 
 It was quite late when the little circle 
 separated for their rest, and Ruth, retiring to 
 her room, closed the shutters at once, and 
 opened her Bible to end the day in her accus- 
 tomed manner. She had read a few words 
 when there was again a knock at the outer 
 door ; this time a low, timid knock, yet loud 
 enough for her to hear it, as her room was 
 directly overhead. She started involuntarily 
 to her feet and advanced to the window, at 
 the same time so shading the light that she 
 could look out into the darkness of the night. 
 For a few moments she could see nothing, but 
 soon her eyes became accustomed to the 
 feeble light of the stars, and she could just
 
 MASTER HATHORNE'S FAMILY. 313 
 
 discern the forms of two persons, apparently 
 women, waiting silently in the shadow of the 
 doorway. At this instant the screen fell away 
 from her candle and the rays of light streamed 
 through the window out into the street. One 
 of the persons at the door stepped quickly out 
 from beneath the building and looked up at 
 the window, and Ruth had no difficulty in 
 recognizing the features of the old family 
 servant, Prudence. A minute more and the 
 door was opened, and Ruth held in her close 
 embrace once more her " little Grace." 
 
 After the first warm greeting, Ruth drew 
 both of them away to her room and closed 
 the door. Apparently, no other person in the 
 house had heard their knock or knew of their 
 presence, and when Ruth would have called 
 John, Grace stopped her hurriedly and begged 
 her to disturb no one, not even her brother, 
 for she felt that she must be alone with her, 
 to make known without reserve the purpose 
 of her visit. 
 
 Ruth was, of course, much surprised that 
 her sister should come to her, and most of all 
 at so late an hour of the night. Both Pru-
 
 3H MASTER HATHORNE'S FAMILY. 
 
 dence and Grace wore cloaks that nearly 
 enveloped the whole form, and their close 
 hoods shielded their faces from the gaze of 
 any one whom they might chance to meet. 
 This was necessary, for Grace did not wish it 
 known, even by those at home, that she had 
 considered any duty of greater obligation than 
 obedience to her father's command. 
 
 The two sisters sat down together upon a 
 low seat, a sort of bench that extended along 
 one side of the room, and Grace began at 
 once, and as she spoke her blue eyes glisten- 
 ed and her cheeks flushed with eagerness. 
 Ruth did not interrupt her until she paused a 
 little and looked up with tearful eyes into her 
 face. Without heeding the presence of Pru- 
 dence, on whom she knew she could rely 
 for sympathy, Grace began her story. . 
 
 " You know that I have always tried to be 
 good, Ruth," she said and the perfect sim- 
 plicity of her manner touched her sister's 
 heart "but how little I have succeeded you 
 cannot know, for my outward actions have 
 often been very different from what the de- 
 sires of my heart would have prompted. It
 
 MASTER HATHORNE'S FAMILY. 315 
 
 is easy to deceive people and make them 
 think you are good, but you cannot deceive 
 yourself and God. And oh, Ruth, you can 
 never know how I have suffered during the 
 past week. I do not know why I have been 
 so distressed ; I cannot think of anything that 
 has turned my thoughts more than ever be- 
 fore upon myself; but I only know that it has 
 been so, and that I can find no relief from my 
 pain ; for it is pain, more piercing and terrible 
 than any bodily suffering could be. I have 
 talked with mother, and she has helped me 
 somewhat; but oh, Ruth, nothing will take 
 away this aching in my heart, this yearning 
 for something that I do not possess. Mother 
 says it is a feeling that almost every one has 
 at some time in life, and that it will pass off 
 after a little while ; that I should not worry 
 over my sins, for Christ died to save me, and 
 I am baptized in his name ; that I am one of 
 God's children and that he will lead me in the 
 way he wishes me to go. But all this does 
 not satisfy me. The feeling still remains 
 that I need something more to make me what 
 I so desire to be, and to give me peace of
 
 3*6 MASTER HATHORNE'S FAMILY. 
 
 mind. I am sinful and I am sorry for my 
 sin. But what to do I know not. Dear 
 Ruth " and she put her arm around her 
 sister's neck "you can help me, for I re- 
 in smber how you helped Paul Wallingford. 
 You can surely do for your sister what you 
 did for him. The Bible says that every one 
 must be born again before he can see the 
 kingdom of God. It is this that I want. I 
 know it ! I feel it I But how can I be born 
 again ? What is this new birth the birth that 
 alone can give me peace? Where shall I 
 find the answer unless you give it to me, 
 unless you tell me what it is to be born of 
 water and of the Spirit?" 
 
 There fell a little silence as the troubled 
 girl, as yet hardly more than a mere child, 
 waited for her sister to reply. 
 
 "Dear little Grace," Ruth said, caressing 
 fondly the bright locks resting upon her 
 bosom, "you ask me a question that I can- 
 not answer, for the Scriptures say : ' The wind 
 bloweth where it listeth, and thou hearest the 
 sound thereof, but canst not tell whence it 
 cometh and whither it goeth : so is every one
 
 MASTER HATHORNE'S FAMILY. 317 
 
 that is born of the Spirit.' I cannot tell you 
 how one may be born again, but I can tell 
 you what the Lord Jesus would have you to 
 do and what it is to be a Christian." 
 
 " Oh, tell me that, tell me that!" cried the 
 weeping Grace. " It is all in vain that I try 
 to be good of myself; the same old wicked 
 heart cries out against me, and I cannot deny 
 its reproaches." 
 
 "You will never find the power to deny 
 them while you are relying on yourself. 
 The same Christ who said we must be born 
 again has told us what the sinner is to do. You 
 have read often yourself how undone they 
 are in themselves ; how he bids them come 
 to him ; how he died for sinners : how by his 
 sacrifice all are saved who believe on him. 
 Are you not content to believe on Jesus, to 
 trust his promise that your sins though as 
 scarlet shall be white as wool ?" 
 
 " Ah, I have tried to think that, but after all 
 that is not being born again.*' 
 
 " You have tried to think it, Grace, but 
 you have not thought it ; you have not be- 
 lieved it ; you have not made that great truth 
 27*
 
 318 MASTER HATHOKNE'S FA MILT. 
 
 a part of your being, of your very soul ! 'Be- 
 lieve on the Lord Jesus Christ and thott 
 shalt be saved, * was not spoken in vain. Do 
 this, and the new birth is accomplished, the 
 heart is changed how or why we may not be 
 able to explain, but we know that it is so. 
 Dear little Grace, this is all I can do for you. 
 I can show you Jesus ; the rest must all lie 
 between him and you. He has finished the 
 work, he is able to save ; he is ready and 
 holds his hands to you, and bids you come. 
 It is your part to go to him if you would re- 
 ceive the blessing." 
 
 Poor Grace was deeply affected. Her slight 
 frame was shaken by the violence of her sobs, 
 and her breath came heavily from her lips. 
 There was a silence in the room, and the 
 younger maiden clung to her sister as if de- 
 spairing. What more could Ruth do for the 
 dear one at her side? She felt her own in- 
 ability to help her ; she knew, as she had said, 
 that human power could only direct to Christ, 
 and that he must do the rest. Then there 
 came to her mind that blessed saying which 
 had so often proved itself more precious than
 
 MASTER HATHORNE'S FAM1L1 . 319 
 
 even her faith had dared to hope: "Come 
 unto me, all ye that labor and are heavy 
 laden, and I will give you rest," And again : 
 "And whatsoever ye shall ask in my name 
 that will I do, that the Father may be glorified 
 in the Son. If ye shall ask anything in my 
 name, I will do it." 
 
 The two sisters knelt down while the elder 
 prayed. The simple, heartfelt words sank 
 deep into the soul of the distressed girl and 
 bore away to heaven the very anguish of hei 
 grief, the bitterness of her longing ; and as 
 the Son of God bowed his head to listen to 
 the maidens' prayer, the trembling, fearing 
 little Grace saw the cross of Calvary, and 
 hanging there the Crucified the Crucified 
 for her and there was joy in heaven in the 
 presence of the angels of God ; and the sweet 
 voice of Grace, after the words of her sister's 
 prayer were ended, no longer trembling from 
 fear and sorrow, but from triumphant joy, gave 
 thanks to the almighty One who had re- 
 ceived her for his own, who had at last led 
 her out of darkness into his marvelous light.
 
 CHAPTER XXI. 
 
 THE MIDNIGHT ARREST. 
 
 j]HE two sisters sat long together, talk- 
 ing far into the night, for there was 
 much to be said by each relative to 
 their past and future course, and there were 
 many words of hope and encouragement, of 
 warning and exhortation, that came to the 
 lips of each of the loving girls, for each feared 
 for the other and thought with trembling heart 
 on all the dangers that they saw so near at 
 hand. 
 
 Ruth felt obliged to tell Grace of the alarm- 
 ing event that had occurred that evening, for 
 she felt sure that John and herself would not 
 escape the notice of the authorities now thai 
 they were aroused once more to the execution 
 of the law that had so long lain dormant 
 
 320
 
 MASTER HATHORNE'S FAMILY. 321 
 
 She knew that the attention of the magistrates 
 would be fastened upon themselves, that their 
 baptism would inevitably bring upon them the 
 strong and cruel grasp of the law. 
 
 It was necessary, then, that Grace should 
 know their exact position. Ruth was anxious 
 that she should see that they suffered now 
 because they were following their Lord, and 
 that the importance of following him closely 
 might be impressed vividly upon her mind ; 
 she also desired to guard against the eager- 
 ness for action which possesses every heart 
 into which has entered the redeeming love of 
 God. Ruth feared lest her young sister 
 might be led by ideas of duty too hastily 
 formed to pursue a course that would bring 
 trial upon her which she would fail under and 
 finally shrink from, if she had not entered 
 upon it with an enlightened mind and with 
 full purpose of heart. She would not see her 
 little Grace put her hand to the work of God 
 and then look back. What she had to say 
 therefore was calculated to reveal to the new 
 disciple not only the pleasures of God's service, 
 but its toils and dangers. 
 V
 
 322 MASTER HATHORNE'S FAMILY. 
 
 Grace learned with sorrow of this ne\\ 
 action on the part of the magistrates ; she 
 had not expected that the path which John 
 and Ruth had chosen would be a smooth one, 
 but she had little thought that they might be 
 called to suffer so soon the terrible fate of 
 those whom she had seen persecuted so bit- 
 terly and unrelentingly. 
 
 This conversation opened the way for Grace 
 to ask a question that her sister's course had 
 naturally suggested to her mind. She was 
 now a child of God she felt it, she knew 
 it and it was an assurance she had never 
 had before, this blessed consciousness that 
 Christ loved her and had received her into 
 his fold. Now could it be that by her baptism 
 in infancy she had been made a member of 
 the church of God? Could it be that by a 
 ceremony performed during her years of un- 
 consciousness her own independent and re- 
 sponsible position before God had been taken 
 from her? Was she thus freed from personal 
 obligation to obey the Lord's command ? 
 
 In answer to her question, Ruth endeavored 
 to set before her the truth as she believed it.
 
 MASTER HATHORNE'S FAMILY. 323 
 
 She took the sacred word, the great argument, 
 the never-failing reliance of that people of God 
 whose cause she had espoused, and from its 
 pages of living light she expounded to her 
 eager listener the teachings of the Lord 
 Christ. She showed Grace the meaning of 
 the ordinance ; she explained fully the way of 
 its performance ; she indicated to her all its 
 symbolic beauty. 
 
 It was past midnight when the younger 
 maiden rose at last to take her departure 
 Silently, too, and with face pale with anxiety 
 and brow furrowed by thought, the old servant 
 arose from the seat which she had occupied 
 in the farthest corner of the apartment. The 
 sisters had not seen her fixed attention as 
 they conversed together , they had not mark- 
 ed hei deep emotion as they arose from their 
 united prayer, joined together by the love of 
 God ; they had not noted the tears that had 
 filled her eyes as the earnest and tender 
 words of Ruth impressed upon the heart 
 of little Grace the truths of the Scriptures ; 
 and now that she prepared in silence for 
 her walk, they thought her moody brow and
 
 324 MASTER HATHORNE^S FAMILT. 
 
 pale cheeks were only the signs of unwonted 
 weariness. 
 
 Ah, could they have looked into the heart 
 of the aged woman, could they have seen its 
 depths stirred as they had never been before, 
 and could they have known that the words 
 spoken that night had been blessed not only 
 to her to whom they had been addressed, but 
 also to the soul of the humble serving-woman, 
 they would have given the great God thanks 
 that he could turn weakness into strength 
 and cause the little seed sown with not a 
 thought of the harvest to bring forth abundant 
 fruit. 
 
 With hushed footsteps the three passed 
 through the hall and down the dark staircase 
 to the door. A few parting and whispered 
 words of caution and encouragement were 
 interchanged, and Prudence and Grace were 
 about to step out into the street when Ruth 
 hastily motioned them back and with a star- 
 tled, impulsive motion closed the door again. 
 Instantly upon the opposite wall of the 
 long hall there flickered a bright red glare, 
 diamond shaped and double, as if two bril-
 
 MASTER HATHORNE'S FAMILT. 325 
 
 liant, self-luminous gems were set in the oaken 
 boards. At the same instant voices in the 
 street were heard, and they turned to look 
 from the little openings in the door through 
 which streamed the gleaming rays. They 
 had but an instant to wait. Five men passed 
 by at a rapid pace, two of them bearing 
 torches, two of them armed, and one walk- 
 ing in the midst, his head bowed upon his 
 breast and his hands fettered. 
 
 It was only a few seconds that they were in 
 sight, but it was long enough for Ruth to 
 recognize by the fitful glare the face of the 
 prisoner. A cold shudder passed through 
 her fiame as she saw Thomas Gold, their 
 visitor in the early evening, who had been 
 sought beneath that very roof by the officers 
 of the law, passing on his way to the prison. 
 
 When the sound of the footsteps on the 
 hard-trodden earth had died away, Ruth 
 turned again and looked upon the pale face 
 of little Grace. Was any word from her lips 
 needed to enforce the lesson taught by the 
 melancholy spectacle? She saw in the medi- 
 tative blue eyes, in the quivering lip, in the 
 
 28
 
 3 26 MASTER HATHORNE*S FAMILY. 
 
 blanched cheek, that her sister, hardly more 
 than child as she was, understood all, and 
 without speaking, with only one more hurried 
 but fervent embrace, she opened the door and 
 they passed out into the night. 
 
 The gray streaks of dawn came up in the 
 eastern sky and kissed the brow of the sleep- 
 ing Ruth ; and as the bright red beams of the 
 rising sun shone in at the window and cast 
 their glow upon the closed curtains of her 
 eyes, she saw again in her dreams the bright 
 reflection on the wall, the passing torches, the 
 wearied, hurrying men, and in the midst the 
 fettered hands, the bowed head, the faltering 
 steps of Goodman Gold. And then, what 
 more ! At the prison door no longer stood 
 the prisoner she had seen. Now it was a 
 woman a woman thrust into the narrow 
 cell; a woman kneeling on the bare floor, 
 with hands upraised to heaven ; a woman 
 weeping in solitude, awaiting her condemna- 
 tion. As if with another's eyes she saw her- 
 self!
 
 CHAPTER XXII. 
 
 BAPTISM OF JOHN AND RUTH. 
 
 |HE morning of the following Lord's 
 Day dawned clear and beautiful, the 
 cool October air becoming warmer as 
 the day advanced, the landscape wrapped in 
 the mellow light of the glorious Indian sum- 
 mer. To-day John Hathorne and Ruth were 
 to unite themselves with the body of Baptists 
 in Charlestown. 
 
 At an early hour they proceeded with Good- 
 man Lowe's family to the water's edge and 
 took boat for the opposite shore. There was 
 no word spoken by any of the little party as 
 they crossed over. All were intent upon their 
 o\\ n reflections, and there was needed no utter- 
 ance to signify that there dwelt in each breast 
 sympathetic thoughts. Ruth sat in the stern 
 
 827
 
 328 MASTER HATHORNE'S FAMILY. 
 
 of the boat, and leaning over the gunwale, 
 played absently with the sparkling wavelets 
 that danced gleefully about her little hand. 
 It was a tender, solemn joy that filled her 
 heart as she thought of the beautiful river 
 that sparkled beneath the rays of the same 
 sun more than sixteen hundred years before, 
 and of the holy One who went down into its 
 liquid wave, symbolizing the death he should 
 die. She seemed to see the flowing stream, 
 the green and wooded banks, the assembled 
 multitudes, the preacher clothed with the rai- 
 ment of camel's hair, and him, the Son of 
 God. And as she gazed upon his face, as 
 she saw the glance of the eyes so full of love 
 for all mankind resting upon her, as she heard 
 his sacred words, "Suffer it to be so now," 
 and witnessed his lowly submission to the 
 hand of man, she turned her grateful gaze to 
 heaven and gave God praise for his greatest 
 blessing to the world. 
 
 The keel of the boat grated upon the sands, 
 and they proceeded to disembark. The meet- 
 ing was to be held in the open air, as were 
 most of the meetings, unless the state of the
 
 MASTER HATHORNE'S FAMILY. 329 
 
 weather prohibited, and a beautiful spot it was 
 which they used for their temple a gentle 
 slope rising from the very brink of the water, 
 dotted here and there with trees and rocks, 
 and spread with a soft carpet of green turf. 
 A large boulder near the shore formed a sort 
 of natural pulpit from which the preacher de- 
 clared the truths of God to the congregation 
 on the rising slope. 
 
 Goodman Lowe's family were the first to 
 arrive upon the ground, for they had made an 
 early start for the sake of John and Ruth, 
 who were now preparing for the ordinance 
 in a neighboring dwelling. Gradually the 
 people began to assemble and dispose them- 
 selves in little groups over the picturesque 
 hillside. A deep shadow rested upon the 
 faces of the older portion of the congregation. 
 The events of the two preceding days had 
 created a profound feeling of sadness and 
 care in the hearts of all Baptists. Two of 
 their number had been seized by the magis- 
 trates and cast into prison, and there were 
 rumors of the intention of the government 
 to proceed farther. In plain view from their 
 
 28*
 
 33 MASTER HATHORNE'S FAMILT. 
 
 place of meeting lay the dwelling of Thomas 
 Gold upon the green shore of Noddle's Island, 
 and they could not look upon that roof, the 
 house into which so much sorrow and misery 
 had been brought, without feeling more than 
 a deep sympathy for the stricken family. 
 They could not tell where the newly- 
 awakened energies of the law would stop ; 
 they knew that they themselves were liable 
 to be apprehended at any moment and hurried 
 away without warning from their homes. 
 They were saddened by the prospect. 
 
 But when the services were begun, and the 
 solemn hymns arose to heaven, and the voice 
 of the preacher, deep and reverent and calm, 
 was lifted up in thanksgiving and prayer, 
 gradually the faces of the careworn men 
 became bright again as their hearts were 
 cheered by divine consolation. Then when 
 the sermon followed, from the text skillfully 
 chosen to meet the peculiar wants of the day, 
 there was no longer any shade of sorrow left 
 on heart or brow, but the light of joyful tri- 
 umph kindled in every eye. The words 
 were as if spoken anew by the Lord, as they
 
 MASTER HATHORNE'S FAMILY. 331 
 
 had been proclaimed of old to Joshua: "Be 
 strong and of a good courage ; for unto this 
 people shalt thou divide for an inheritance the 
 land which I sware unto their fathers to give 
 them. Only be thou strong and very cou- 
 rageous, that thou mayest observe to do ac- 
 cording to all the law which Moses my ser- 
 vant commanded thee : turn not from it to the 
 right hand or to the left, that thou mayest 
 prosper whithersoever thou goest." It was a 
 noble foundation for a noble sermon, and the 
 troubles of the little band of disciples vanished 
 away like mist before the rising sun, as the 
 power of the Spirit pressed home to every 
 heart the words of divine encouragement ; and 
 when the closing words fell from the lips of 
 the preacher, the hymn that followed bore on 
 its jubilant wings a heartfelt offering of tri- 
 umphant praise to the Father of all. 
 
 Then came the still, calm hour of baptism. 
 There was a short prayer. In this solemn 
 hour why did the voice that spoke with God 
 cause an involuntary start on the part of both 
 John and Ruth? Ah! it was an additional 
 joy for them to know that he who had suffered
 
 33 2 MASTER HATHORNE'S FAMILY. 
 
 with them and helped them to a knowledge of 
 the truth was present now to witness theii 
 dedication to Christ. It was a surprise and a 
 happiness to hear the voice of Paul Walling- 
 ford taking a part in the solemn services. 
 
 Then as the assembled throng upon the 
 shore sang sweetly of Christ's love, Ruth 
 passed from their midst and went down into 
 the water with the servant of God. The 
 voices of the singers were hushed, and the 
 solemn words came back from the waves to 
 the listening disciples : 
 
 "'Whosoever believeth that Jesus is the 
 Christ is born of God. Who is he that 
 overcometh the world but he that believeth 
 that Jesus is the Son of God? This is he 
 that came by water and blood, even Jesus 
 Christ ; not by water only, but by water and 
 blood. And it is the Spirit that beareth wit- 
 ness, because the Spirit is truth.'" 
 
 And then was asked the solemn question, 
 the answer to which fell clearly and distinctly 
 from the lips of the maiden : " ' I believe that 
 Jesus Christ is the Son of God.' " 
 
 And as she came up out of the water, Ruth
 
 MASTER HATHORNE'S FAMILY. 333 
 
 was conscious that God's approving Spirit was 
 resting upon her, for at last the command was 
 fulfilled, and the peace of a satisfied soul 
 dwelt within her breast. 
 
 Then John Hathorne followed his Master's 
 footsteps into the watery grave ; but it seemed 
 to those who saw it that his advance to the 
 fulfillment of the command was more like 
 that of a conqueror than of one who was to 
 symbolize death. His eyes were fixed upon 
 the sunny sky as if he saw above him the 
 crown that should recompense every cross, 
 and his face beamed with conscious joy as 
 his voice, firm and triumphant, proclaimed 
 his faith in the Redeemer. 
 
 Was there yet anything lacking to complete 
 their joy? A flush of crimson mantled the 
 cheek of Ruth as her quick eye caught sigh* 
 of two figures hurrying away among the 
 dispersing congregation. She had received 
 more than she had even dared to hope. She 
 knew not how it could be, but she could not 
 have been mistaken in the form of little 
 Grace. No ! surely her sister and the old 
 servant had been present and witnessed her
 
 334 MASTER HATHORNE'S FAMILY. 
 
 baptism, and it was with a heart full of joy 
 and thanksgiving that she prayed God to give 
 them both a knowledge of the truth. 
 
 An hour afterward, when the boat that 
 had carried Goodman Lowe's family to their 
 home again put off from the Charlestown 
 shore with John and Ruth, an Indian canoe 
 darted noiselessly out into its wake and drew 
 rapidly near. With a skillful turn of the 
 paddle, Solomon dashed alongside of the 
 boat, and Paul leaped lightly over the gun- 
 wale from the canoe. 
 
 Once more the hands of the friends were 
 clasped; a murmured ''Thank God!" from 
 each unlocked the treasures of their hearts, 
 and as the boat went on its way the three 
 lifted up their voices in a song of praise to 
 the Giver of all good things.
 
 CHAPTER XXIII. 
 
 JOHN AND RUTH CAST INTO PRISON. 
 
 |PON the Monday evening after their 
 baptism, John and Ruth were sitting 
 together upon the stoop that was 
 built out upon one side of the house, and 
 which commanded a view of the waters of 
 the bay. Paul had arrived a few minutes 
 before, and was now standing at a little dis- 
 tance with Goodman Lowe, with whom he 
 was talking earnestly of his unsuccessful at- 
 tempt, made that day, to gain admission to the 
 two unfortunate men who had been im- 
 prisoned. Ruth was speaking to John, with 
 a sister's fondness, of little Grace, longing to 
 have another opportunity of conversing with 
 her and of pointing out to her the necessity 
 of studying for herself the divine word, that 
 
 335
 
 Jjo MASTER HATHORNB'S FAMILY. 
 
 she might not blindly follow another's guid- 
 ance, but proceed in accordance with her own 
 enlightened convictions of the truth. 
 
 They had been thus conversing for some 
 time when, just as they were rising to enter 
 the house for shelter from the heavy and 
 chilly dew of night, a dark form glided swiftly 
 around the corner of the dwelling and stood 
 silently before them. They were not a little 
 startled at first, but in an instant they recog- 
 nized the form and features of the faithful In- 
 dian, Long Solomon. Paul knew at once 
 that there must be something of importance 
 to bring the Indian to them in such haste, and 
 he immediately asked him whom he wished 
 to see. 
 
 ' ' All every one somebody !" he answer- 
 ed in a hoarse and hurried whisper. "Me 
 see good father, Eliot, at Muddy Brook, and 
 Solomon hear white chiefs talk with him 
 about Baptists. Say that must be have mercy 
 no longer, but punish, put in prison, whip 
 more men and send them away to Plantation. 
 Solomon creep very near like a snake, and 
 hear when they speak low and look round
 
 MASTER HATHORNE'S FAMILY. 337 
 
 frightened. Solomon hear governor whisper 
 about John Hathorne and ask question if little 
 mother be made prisoner too or send away." 
 
 "And when did all this occur?" asked 
 Paul, his voice trembling with emotion. 
 
 "To-day. Eliot done teaching Indians, 
 and Solomon creeped round behind and hear 
 all." 
 
 "Did you learn anything further? Did 
 they make any plans as to the time or place 
 of arrest?" 
 
 "Me hear them say that must be quick; 
 that every day Baptists get strong, and must 
 make sample of Hathorne, for 'cause he great 
 man and be seen by somebody. Solomon 
 tink there be no stop from coming quick. 
 Run, hurry with Solomon ! His canoe all 
 rrady, and he get horses at Muddy Brook I" 
 
 " No, Solomon," Paul answered, shaking 
 his head slowly, " not so fast. We will con- 
 sult first and see what it is best to do, and 
 then if we need you, you shall know it. 
 Meanwhile, hold yourself ready for a journey 
 to Providence at an hour's notice. You have 
 done us a great service already. Be watchful, 
 
 29 W
 
 33 8 MASTER HATHORNE'S FAMILY. 
 
 and if you see any further movements against 
 us, let us know at once." 
 
 So saying, Paul turned away and entered 
 the house, whither John and Ruth had already 
 gone, the former almost forcing the maiden to 
 go with him, as she would have stayed to 
 hear more and to acknowledge to the faith- 
 ful Indian the great service he had done 
 them. 
 
 Solomon sped away into the darkness, and 
 made his way rapidly through the streets of 
 the town to the vicinity of the prison, where 
 he found everything perfectly quiet. Taking 
 up his post, however, beneath a large beech 
 tree that stood at some distance, but in full 
 view of the door of the building, he remained 
 erect in its shadow, as motionless as the trunk 
 itself. Still as marble and apparently as life- 
 less he stood, his keen eye only moving oc- 
 casionally from the building before him to the 
 stars in the clear, cold sky. 
 
 Meanwhile, in the family-room of the dwell- 
 ing of Goodman Lowe there were earnest, 
 suppressed voices engaged in consultation as 
 to what should be done. John and Ruth were
 
 MASTER HATHORNB'S FAMILY. 339 
 
 both undecided as to the course they ought to 
 pursue. As for Paul, he was determined. 
 No doubt rested in his mind, and he eagerly 
 urged them to make their escape while there 
 was yet time. They need only go to some 
 retreat in the forest, to dwell there for a few 
 days or weeks, perhaps, until the first violence 
 of the storm should have passed away, when 
 they could return to their home and friends, 
 and continue to labor with the little band that 
 needed so much every strong heart and hand. 
 It was their duty to save themselves for future 
 usefulness, and not to deliver themselves at 
 once to the walls of the prison, from which 
 they might not come forth for long and weary 
 months, or, if then, only to perpetual banish- 
 ment from the colony. 
 
 But for a long time the arguments of Paul 
 were unavailing, for they were unwilling 
 to seem to run from danger or trial, and 
 the opinion of their host was that they 
 should await patiently whatever should come 
 upon them. Thomas Gold and Thomas Os- 
 borne had not shunned the trial which they 
 had seen approaching for a long time, be-
 
 34 MASTER HATHORNE'S FAMILY. 
 
 lieving that it was God's will to make them 
 instruments of good in his hands. 
 
 All agreed, however, in the opinion that 
 there would be no movement of the authorities 
 until the next day, and therefore Paul was 
 well content with their promise that they 
 would think of his advice, and if they could 
 reconcile it with their ideas of duty, would 
 leave the town before dawn and betake them- 
 selves to the refuge that Solomon should pro- 
 vide for them. With this understanding, Paul 
 bade them farewell, saying that he should 
 call at an early hour in the morning. 
 
 But even as he was leaving the room a 
 slight noise was heard at the outer door ; in- 
 stantly it was opened from without, and the 
 Indian glided swiftly into the hall. Paul's 
 heart sank within him, for he knew that 
 Solomon's sudden reappearance could be 
 owing only to one cause. He motioned him 
 to speak quickly. The Indian needed no 
 urging. He had seen a sudden stir in the 
 building which he had been watching im- 
 mediately following the arrival of a messen- 
 ger. Creeping then beneath the window of
 
 MASTER HATHORNE'S FAMILt . 341 
 
 the guard-room, the only lighted window of 
 the lower story of the building, with his keen 
 ear ready for the slightest sound, he had heard 
 that the messenger had brought an order from 
 the governor for the immediate arrest of the 
 persons of John Hathorne and Ruth Ha- 
 thorne, and the retention of the same until 
 the pleasure of the court should be made 
 known. 
 
 The Indian urged them eagerly away. 
 His canoe lay drawn up among the bushes 
 that crowned a little beach t a short distance 
 from the house. Once there and afloat, they 
 would be perfectly safe. One minute's hesita- 
 tion, and all might be lost. 
 
 But that one minute's delay occurred and 
 decided the case for them. The hurried ap- 
 proach of feet was heajrd, and Paul had only 
 time to thrust the Indian into an adjoining 
 room, with true foresight knowing that there 
 was no longer any hope for the immediate 
 escape of his friends and that any future 
 attempt must be made with the aid of Solo- 
 mon, when the feet stopped at the door, 
 voices were heard in hasty consultation, and 
 
 29*
 
 34 2 MASTER HATHORNE'S FAMILY. 
 
 the authoritative knock of the leader of the 
 party demanded admission. 
 
 There was an instant's hesitation on the 
 part of the little assembly. Then John him- 
 self stepped quickly to the door and opened 
 it. There was no delay or hesitation on the 
 part of the officers. The warrant was pro- 
 duced and read, and the object of their visit 
 thus formally made known. John listened 
 calmly to the reading, and turning with a 
 smile to Paul, he said: "Indeed, the poor 
 Baptists are honored, to have so much atten- 
 tion shown them by the government." 
 
 The blow had fallen at last, and now that 
 there was no longer any suspense there came 
 a deep feeling of relief to all. Paul and John 
 had greatly feared the effects so rude a shock 
 might have upon Ruth's extremely sensitive 
 nature. But she only turned quietly to one 
 of the daughters of Goodman Lowe, and re- 
 quested her to bring her cloak and hood from 
 her room. 
 
 It was all over. Goodman Lowe had re- 
 monstrated earnestly against the severity that 
 would take a tender maiden from her home ID
 
 MASTEX HATHORNE'S FAMILY. 343 
 
 the darkness of the night and commit her to 
 all the discomforts of a cheerless prison. 
 But all had been in vain, and they were 
 gone gone to what fate no one of them 
 could tell. Paul Wallingford, seated in sor- 
 rowful silence before the table, his head rest- 
 ing heavily upon his hands, neither looked up 
 nor moved when Goodman Lowe spoke of 
 the morrow and of the efforts he would make 
 for the liberation of the prisoners. He had 
 no interest in his words, for he knew how 
 fruitless would be the task of turning the will 
 of those in power. 
 
 At last the sad stillness that had fallen on 
 the little family circle after the few vain 
 words of cheer from its head was broken. 
 The solemn voice of the Goodman was heard. 
 " Let us pray !" he said ; and they all kneeled 
 down and lifted up their hearts in prayer to 
 the great Father, that he might watch over 
 and protect their lost ones, and bless this af- 
 fliction to all with whom it had to do. Thus 
 their hearts were comforted and their fears 
 relieved.
 
 CHAPTER XXIV. 
 LITTLE GRACE'S RESOLUTION. 
 
 HE brother and sister were led away 
 to their prison. The building was a 
 small structure situated in what is 
 now Court street a dismal, gloomy house 
 with small windows and steep roof. The 
 second floor was only one large room, into 
 which prisoners of both sexes were often 
 crowded, particularly when religious perse- 
 cution brought to the doors of the jail more 
 unfortunates than it could well accommodate. 
 The attic was divided into several very small 
 apartments, each with a gable window look- 
 ing out over the town. 
 
 John and Ruth were fortunate enough to 
 have one of these upper rooms assigned to 
 each of them, in opposite ends of the building, 
 
 344
 
 MASTER HATHORNE'S FAMILY, 345 
 
 so that they might not converse together, but 
 where they were only too glad to escape the 
 contact which they dreaded with the mixed 
 assemblage in the room below. It was late 
 when they were thrust into these rooms, and 
 they were left in darkness until the morning 
 should dawn. 
 
 When at last the day appeared, gilding the 
 tops of the houses and the broad surface of 
 the glittering bay, it was only with a feeling 
 of greater sadness that the lonely prisoners 
 looked from the little windows upon the 
 beauties of the outer world. From her win- 
 dow Ruth could plainly see the roof of her 
 father's dwelling, and even the window of the 
 upper room that had always been her own. 
 As she thought of the familiar apartment and 
 of its occupant, her well loved little Grace, 
 and contrasted her own situation with that of 
 her sister, the tears could no longer be kept 
 back, and bowing her weary head upon her 
 hands, she wept and sobbed her lonely grief 
 away. 
 
 At last there was a movement in the dwell- 
 ing that had been her home ; nay, even in the
 
 MASTER HATHORNE'S FAMILY. 
 
 room that had been hers ; and as she strained 
 her eyes to overcome the distance, the window 
 was thrown open and Grace herself stood be- 
 fore it looking out into the street. The poor, 
 imprisoned maiden gazed with unutterable 
 longing upon the form so dear to her. Sud- 
 denly she started up from her seat, and seiz- 
 ing the white coarse towel that was lying on 
 the rude washstand, she reached far out from 
 her window and waved it up and down in the 
 air. One brief minute passed, and she saw 
 that she was observed. Grace started sud- 
 denly, waited until Ruth repeated the sign, 
 and then with a single wave of the hand 
 turned quickly away and passed from the 
 room. 
 
 Ruth had acted upon impulse, and bitterly 
 did she reproach herself for her thoughtless 
 selfishness as she reflected that her hasty act 
 could bring no good to herself, and could 
 only create sorrow for Grace, for she would 
 be unable to exert herself in behalf of her 
 imprisoned sister, and would at best only 
 'have the aggravating power of conversing 
 with her from window to window as they had
 
 MASTER HATHORNE'S FAMILT. 347 
 
 done that morning. She did not know the 
 quickness of thought, the energy and prompt- 
 ness of action, of which little Grace was ca- 
 pable, and she little dreamed that in a few 
 short hours she should clasp her sister in 
 close embrace and speak with her once more. 
 
 Yet it was to be. Grace had no sooner 
 recognized her sifter than she determined to 
 go to her by what means was yet to be dis- 
 covered so without delaying at the window 
 longer than to assure Ruth that she had 
 recognized her, she set about her plans im- 
 mediately. But who could give her the 
 necessary assistance? In her perplexity she 
 appealed to Prudence, and it was speedily 
 arranged between them that the latter should 
 see Mr. Wilson, and relying upon his kind- 
 ness, should ask from him a pass to enter the 
 prison. The old servant was well known to 
 the minister, and readily gained from him the 
 desired favor ; with hurrying feet the two 
 pressed on to the jail, and were admitted 
 without question. 
 
 Unexpected as was this great joy, Ruth 
 was little able to command her feelings at
 
 34 8 MASTER HATHORNB'S FAMILY. 
 
 first so that they could converse calmly 
 For a moment it made her sorrow heavier 
 that her little Grace should come to meet 
 her in such a place ; but quickly she forgot 
 her situation in the joy she felt at seeing her 
 sister once more and hearing from her own 
 lips of the dear ones at home. 
 
 But a more important subject than any 
 personal consideration was pressing itself 
 upon Ruth's attention, for she well knew 
 how Grace's thoughts were tending, and was 
 filled with anxiety for her. It was with 
 emotion, therefore, that she asked her of the 
 opinions that had been forming in her mind 
 since their last interview. There was a little 
 silence before Grace answered, and her beauti- 
 ful face assumed an expression far more 
 solemn than Ruth had ever seen upon it 
 before. At last she took Ruth's hand that 
 was lying in her lap into her own, and said, 
 thoughtfully : 
 
 " Dear Ruth, I must go with you." 
 A thrill of joy flushed Ruth's cheek with a 
 beautiful rose-tinge. Her hopes were ful- 
 filled, her prayers answered, and she raised
 
 MASTER HATHORNE'S FA MILT. 349 
 
 her heart in silent thanksgiving to God. But 
 the same old fear came again to her mind 
 the fear that had haunted her ever since she 
 had last spoken with her sister. She dreaded 
 lest the desire of following her own example, 
 or the thirst for notoriety and for suffering in 
 the sight of others, should have undue influ- 
 ence in bringing about such a decision. 
 
 "You are sure," she asked, "that you have 
 chosen the true way?" 
 
 "I am sure it is the way that the Bible 
 teaches. I have *no doubt that they who 
 follow other courses may be true Christians, 
 but in one respect they are not ; they cannot 
 be so Christ-like as are the Baptists. I believe 
 that saying of the Saviour : ' I am the way, and 
 the truth, and the life : no man cometh unto 
 the Father but by me.' But I also believe 
 that he meant what he said, ' Believe and be 
 baptized,' and I would follow him in his own 
 way as he commanded and as he has revealed 
 it to us." 
 
 "But you are sure of your fixedness of 
 purpose? You know all that the step in- 
 volves? You have thought over and care- 
 so
 
 35 MASTER HATHORNE'S FAMILY. 
 
 fully weighed what losses you must sufFei 
 and what sorrows you must endure?" 
 
 " * That I may know him, and the power 
 of his resurrection, and the fellowship of his 
 sufferings, being made conformable unto his 
 death ; if by any means I might attain unto 
 the resurrection of the dead.' I think I am 
 ready, dear Ruth, if need be, to suffer any- 
 thing for him. Let it be the trial of fire, and 
 I trust I shall cheerfully pass through it, for 
 the Master will be by my side. That which 
 is loss to me shall be gain for Christ." 
 
 There was such calm resolution, such deep 
 earnestness, such simple trust, in the face of 
 the youthful speaker, that Ruth pressed her no 
 more, but was content. So the sisters sat for 
 two happy hours, talking lovingly of their 
 common interests. Then Grace took her 
 leave and passed to the other cell, that she 
 might comfort and cheer her brother's heart, 
 and Ruth was again alone.
 
 CHAPTER XXV. 
 
 PLAN FOR ESCAPE. 
 
 |S Grace left the prison she met Paul 
 waiting at a little distance, as if ex- 
 pecting her coming. He had learned 
 in some way of her visit to her sister, and had 
 come out for the purpose of meeting her and 
 learning something of Ruth and John. They 
 stood a few moments talking together, and 
 then walked away in the direction of Master 
 Hathorne's dwelling. 
 
 Ruth saw their meeting from her window, 
 and at last she had to confess it there was 
 a little shrinking of her heart from what she 
 thought would be ; but in an instant she was 
 herself again, and she remembered that it 
 was no less the part of love to suffer than to 
 enjoy. Her dark eyes filled with tears, but 
 
 351
 
 35 2 MASTER HATHORNE'S FAMILY. 
 
 they were tears more of gladness than of pain, 
 for Paul and little Grace would indeed be 
 very happy together; he would strengthen 
 and support her in all the trials she would 
 yet be called upon to endure. And she 
 knew that, even in their own joy, they would 
 not forget her, the lonely prisoner, for as they 
 had turned to walk away, Grace had pointed 
 out to him the window of her cell, and they 
 had both waved their hands to her for a silent 
 good-bye. 
 
 It was very oppressive, the solitude of her 
 cell, after Grace and Prudence had gone. 
 The silence became almost unbearable, and 
 she walked the room back and forth from 
 very weariness of quiet. At last there came 
 the sound of feet ascending the stairs, and she 
 knew that the jailer's wife was bringing her 
 the meagre noon repast. A sudden thought 
 came into her mind ; she would be no longer 
 so lonely ; she felt that she must have some 
 means of occupying her attention and of 
 taking it away from her sad solitude. She 
 resolved if possible to obtain the requisite 
 materials, and pass the slow-going hours in
 
 MA S TER II A THORNB 'S FA MIL T. 353 
 
 writing a diary, as she had done while at 
 Providence. 
 
 Much to her surprise, she found her re- 
 quest for writing materials readily granted, 
 and when the evening meal was brought to 
 her, the jailer's wife bore also in a neat pack- 
 age abundant means to carry out her pur- 
 pose. 
 
 The next morning dawned bright and clear, 
 and the sunshine streamed in at the little 
 window and fell directly upon the face of the 
 sleeping maiden. She awoke with a smile 
 on her lips, for she had been dreaming that 
 she was free again, walking in the little 
 garden at home, when suddenly the bright 
 sunlight around her had grown more intense 
 and dazzling and a strange joy had taken 
 possession of her breast, because all the worla 
 had suddenly become so much more glorious 
 than ever before. She sprang quickly from 
 her couch, clothed herself, and sat down at 
 the open window with her Bible in her hand. 
 The fresh morning air blew in from the sea 
 with its salt fragrance, the birds were singing 
 blithely, and the trees rustled in the breeze 
 
 30* X
 
 354 MASTER HATHORNB'S FAMILY. 
 
 and shook from their boughs great showers 
 of richly-colored leaves upon the dewy earth. 
 Ruth felt that there was but one thing want- 
 ing to make her dream come true. If she 
 could step forth into the world and wander on 
 and on, free and light-hearted as the little 
 birds that wheeled in swift circles before her 
 window, she felt that she should indeed 
 wonder that the earth could be so beautiful. 
 
 Then she read of the God that doeth all 
 things well, and as hour after hour passed by 
 she forgot in her reading her solitude, the 
 means she had obtained for whiling the time 
 away, and all but the sacred book, for the 
 blessed words of the Gospel of John were 
 feeding her soul with the manna of eternal 
 life. 
 
 She was surprised when the jailer's wife 
 came to her room with her morning meal, 
 which should have been brought to her more 
 than two hours before, and she made no com- 
 plaint of the negligence that had kept her 
 until so late an hour of the morning without 
 food. 
 
 As she ate the plain fare she sat by the
 
 MASTER HAJHORNE'S FAMILY. 355 
 
 window still, and looking out she noticed a 
 peculiar motion in the window of Grace's 
 room. The distance did not allow her to 
 make out, at first, whether it was meant as a 
 sign to her or not, but at last, by straining her 
 eyes and shading them with her hand, she 
 thought she saw enough to justify her in re- 
 turning the sign. Her white handkerchief 
 fluttered an instant on the breeze, and in- 
 stantly in the distant window a bright red 
 cloth was hung, as if to dry, in the air. 
 
 There was no further movement made, and 
 Ruth was at a loss to know what could be the 
 meaning of the sign. But soon, as all still 
 remained quiet in the opposite window, she 
 ceased to think of it, and taking her writing 
 materials, began her labor. 
 
 Night has again drawn its dark curtains 
 over the face of nature, and Ruth lies sleep- 
 ing sweetly upon the little couch of her cell. 
 Upon the table by the window lie the care- 
 fully folded sheets of her journal, the ink and 
 pen, and her precious, only book. Let us 
 take our happy privilege, and see what the 
 maiden has written that we may know the
 
 35 6 MASTER HATHORNE'S FAMILY. 
 
 events of the most eventful afternoon and 
 evening of her imprisonment. 
 
 "Again I begin to write my diary, but 
 under very different circumstances from those 
 in which I last wrote. Then there was no 
 bird happier than I, and surely there was 
 no bird more free to wing its way, care- 
 less and light-hearted, through the air, than 
 was I to tread the beautiful earth and enjoy 
 to the full all the bounteous gifts of God. 
 But now I write only because of the loss of 
 everything else that can make life happy ! 
 Ah, Father, forgive me ! I have sinned in 
 saying that ; for though all things of this 
 world be taken from me, though it were even 
 worse for me than it is, though I were sepa- 
 rated for ever from all that is dear, though I 
 were forgotten by friends and loved ones and 
 were wholly without human pity or love, yet 
 everything would not be lost. The love of 
 him who has redeemed me with his blood is 
 ever, will ever be, mine. Surely I will never 
 doubt him, for I know that my Redeemer 
 loveth me.
 
 MASTER HATHORNE'S FAMILY. 35 ? 
 
 "As I remember this my little cell is no 
 longer sad and lonely. Its bare walls be- 
 come fair and bright, and extend their narrow 
 bounds till they are as wide as heaven itself. 
 I feel no longer that I am a prisoner, for 
 where Christ is there can only be happiness. 
 No, I am not alone. I am not unhappy. 
 In my thoughts, my desires, my hopes, my 
 prayers, I am not a prisoner, but with my 
 blessed Lord I am in spirit free. 
 
 "A long interval has occurred since I 
 penned those last words, and now again I sit 
 down to write the cause of my interruption. 
 It is evening, and I can see to write only with 
 difficulty by the miserable light they have 
 allowed me, but I am anxious to make a rec- 
 ord before I sleep of every little incident that 
 has occurred, that I may not suffer any one 
 of them all to escape my memory. I shall 
 prize it by and by. 
 
 ' I had been sitting for perhaps half an 
 hour, meditating upon subjects naturally sug- 
 gested by what I had written, when suddenly 
 my attention was attracted by something strik- 
 ing against my window, and an instant after-
 
 35 S MASTER HATHORNE'S FAMILY. 
 
 ward a little ball of paper tied with a red 
 string fell at my feet. My first impulse was 
 to look from the window to see who could 
 have thrown it, when I observed the faithful 
 Indian, Solomon, walking leisurely away at 
 some little distance. I then unrolled the 
 paper and read as follows : 
 
 " DEAR RUTH : Paul and Solomon and 
 myself have made all necessary arrange- 
 ments for your escape. I tell you plainly T 
 did not speak of the subject when with you 
 for two reasons : first, I was unwilling to 
 abuse the confidence of Mr. Wilson, through 
 whose means I came ; and then I feared you 
 would try to urge me, for some reason or 
 other, to give up the whole plan. But now 
 that all is arranged you will consent. To- 
 night at midnight you will be ready. Paul 
 and Solomon will meet beneath the prison 
 walls with ropes. The Indian will scale the 
 roof by the aid of the high wall that joins 
 the house at the other side, and so will aid 
 you. Your place of refuge will be where 
 you have seen the sign, the cloth of the same
 
 MASTER HATHQRNE'S FAMILY. 359 
 
 color as the string. Do not delay for John ; 
 he will follow you. 
 
 " Your sister, GRACE.' 
 
 "I was greatly surprised at this letter from 
 little Grace, and, more than this, my heart 
 was full of gratitude to her and Paul for 
 thinking of me and planning for my happi- 
 ness ; but at the same time I was sorry they 
 had made the attempt, for I thought it better 
 for many reasons to wait patiently for our re- 
 lease until those who had brought us within 
 these walls should see fit to restore us to free- 
 dom. I thought long over the note, and re- 
 read it many times. At last I found a few 
 words on the other side of the paper that I 
 had not noticed before. They said that Paul 
 would pass beneath my window at dusk and 
 receive any word I might write to them ; for 
 Grace knew I could get the materials for 
 writing, as she had left money with the jailer's 
 wife to supply the means of granting any re- 
 quest John or I might make. 
 
 "Not only, then, was the plan for our 
 escape made by our little Grace, but the
 
 360 MASTER HATHORNE'S F AM I LI. 
 
 dear, thoughtful girl had foreseen that the 
 hours of our prison-life would pass drearily 
 enough without occupation. I little knew 
 the courageous worth of our sister. She will 
 make a noble woman. 
 
 " It yet lacked full three hours to the time 
 when Paul would expect some word from me 
 in answer to the proposition to escape. What 
 should my answer be? I could not tell, for 
 surely it was a hard question for me to decide 
 without counsel ; there would be many chances 
 of failure, even if I could think it right to make 
 the attempt ; and, more than this, the place of 
 concealment which Grace had indicated was 
 in my father's own house ; from that very fact, 
 of course, secure from suspicion, yet not to be 
 thought of for a moment, for it was the place, 
 the one place of all the world, from which I 
 was debarred by my father's solemn com- 
 mand. 
 
 " While I was yet absorbed in thought I 
 heard the approach of some person in the 
 passage outside of my room, and immedi- 
 ately the jailer himself stopped at my door 
 and requested me to go with him. He said
 
 MASTER HATHORNE'S FAMILY. 361 
 
 that John wished to see me, and that he had 
 given him permission to talk with me in his 
 own cell on condition that the jailer's wife 
 should remain with us during the interview. 
 I knew well that John wished to speak with 
 me about this subject, but I feared from this 
 precaution of the jailer that he would be un- 
 able to do. so. However, I was only too glad 
 to see dear John again, and I followed with 
 joy to his little room. 
 
 " I was much affected by the change that 
 has come upon John since I last saw him. 
 It is true it is not a long time that we have 
 been here, but he looks as if it had been a 
 year. Pale and haggard, he stood by the 
 door to receive me, and as I fell weeping into 
 his arms, he spoke to me with a voice weak 
 and trembling, as if it were that of a sick 
 man. But the time allotted us was short and 
 our words had to be quickly spoken. He said 
 he had not been well ; that he had been deeply 
 anxious for me not only on account of my 
 imprisonment, but because of the punishment 
 he feared might be laid upon us. 
 
 " He spoke rapidly of his fears for my health 
 
 31
 
 362 MASTER HATHORNE'S FAM1LT. 
 
 and of the firm courage I should need to meet 
 the events of the future, and kneeling down, 
 we prayed together for the Master's blessing. 
 " When we arose he seemed more cheerful, 
 ;:nd talked of the monotony of our prison-life 
 and of the means he used to pass the time as 
 profitably as possible. As he spoke he show- 
 ed me a great number of pages he had written 
 over with whole chapters from the Bible, that 
 he might the more readily fix them in his 
 memory. Just before we separated, he took 
 his pen in hand mechanically, and with an 
 air of abstraction wrote upon a blank page 
 the word ' No ' repeatedly. Then placing it 
 so that I could easily see it, he spoke again 
 of the discomforts of a prison, but urged me 
 not to repine, but to await with all patience 
 the slow approach of our trial. He hoped, 
 he said, for our acquittal ; he hoped the 
 magistrates would have become tired of per- 
 secutions ; but whatever might come he urged 
 me to wait, to be still and listen for God's 
 voice to lead me, to draw not back from the 
 path on which we had entered, nor refuse to 
 suffer what the Lord should require of us for
 
 MASTER HATHORNE'S FAMILT 363 
 
 his glory. And so I went back to my cell 
 with my doubt driven away and with the 
 wished-for answer given me. 
 
 "When I was again alone I immediately 
 wrote a few words to Grace and Paul, pray- 
 ing them not to think me ungrateful, but ex- 
 pressing my determination to abide the event 
 of our trial, as John, I knew, would also 
 answer them. Then I sat at the window 
 with my Bible until Paul approached. He 
 took my note from the ground without being 
 seen by any one, and immediately went 
 away. 
 
 ** Perhaps an hour had passed, and it had 
 already become quite dark when the noise 
 of a pebble upon the window pane attracted 
 my notice. The window was closed on ac- 
 count of the chilly air of the evening. I in- 
 stantly opened it, for I knew this to be a signal 
 to attract my attention. I could see no one 
 in the darkness, but soon another little ball of 
 paper fell upon the floor of the room and I 
 eagerly unfolded it. There were but few 
 words : 
 
 *' ' Perhaps it is as well. I have just dis-
 
 364 MASTER HATHORNE'S FAMILY. 
 
 covered that the trial will take place to- 
 morrow. God help us all !' 
 
 "There was no signature, but I knew it 
 came from Paul. I stood by the window and 
 looked out, that he might know, if he was 
 still there, that I thanked him for his thought- 
 ful care. 
 
 " Now that the decision is made I am glad 
 that the matter is thus settled. I am glad that 
 the plan for our escape is not to be carried 
 out, but that we are to show to the world that 
 we are not afraid to abide the consequences 
 of following what we believe to be the direc- 
 tions of our Lord. 
 
 "To-morrow, then, we shall be taken before 
 the magistrates to be tried, and of course con- 
 demned and punished for being Baptists. I 
 say of course^ for I can hardly think that 
 John really hopes for our acquittal, though 
 he tried to make me think so, that I might 
 have the less fear. I see no grounds for any 
 such hope, for we can hardly expect Governor 
 Bellingham to show any more mercy to 
 heretics than was granted them by his 
 decessor."
 
 MASTER HATHORNE'S FAMILY. 365 
 
 We have read what the maiden wrote be- 
 fore she lay down to sleep. Truly, she had 
 reason enough for fear, reason enough why 
 her slumber should be disturbed and restless. 
 But the hours of the night passed away and 
 she neither woke nor stirred ; her dark hair 
 fell in rich, wavy masses over the coarse linen 
 of the bed ; her head rested upon her white, 
 delicately-rounded arm, and her lips wore a 
 half-sad smile, as if in her dreams she saw 
 visions far different from those that the light 
 of the morning might reveal to her. 
 
 " He giveth his beloved sleep.** 
 
 31*
 
 CHAPTER XXVI. 
 
 CAST OUT FROM HOME. 
 
 j|HE magistrates were merciful. John 
 and Ruth were condemned, found 
 guilty of the heresy of the Baptists, 
 and banished from the colony upon pain of 
 death. Only banished ! Not whipped ! not 
 mutilated ! not even remanded to prison to 
 languish within its narrow walls 1 Only 
 banished ! Twelve hours longer they were 
 allowed for their preparations ; then, if they 
 were still within the limits of the town, they 
 would forfeit the mild indulgence of the mag- 
 istrates and be again seized. Forty-eight 
 hours, and they must be beyond the bounda- 
 ries of the colony. 
 
 As the brother and sister came down to- 
 gether from the prisoner's stand, Paul Wal- 
 
 366
 
 MASTER HATHORNE'S FAMILY. 367 
 
 lingford and Grace pressed forward through 
 the crowd an'd met them. A silent pressure 
 of the hand, an earnest glance full of sym- 
 pathy and gratitude, were all the friends al- 
 lowed themselves as an expression of their 
 emotion. They passed out into the street and 
 hurried away to the house that had been their 
 home, to Master Hathorne's dwelling. 
 
 John and Ruth wondered that they should 
 be led in this direction, but Grace bade them 
 wait until they arrived, when all would be ex- 
 plained to them. So they went on their way 
 through the familiar streets, past the houses 
 of their friends, noting carefully and sorrow- 
 fully all things, for this was the last time they 
 would behold them. At length they came to 
 the little garden ; then to the paved court- 
 yard before the house ; and there at the open 
 door stood their mother, as she had stood 
 once before to receive them, alone but with 
 outstretched arms. 
 
 For a little while they all sat together in the 
 family-room, and then it was that John and 
 Ruth learned of their father. He was ill ; in 
 his room above he was stretched upon the bed
 
 368 MASTER HATHORNE^S FAMILY. 
 
 of pain. They did not tell them that it was 
 chiefly his great sorrow, shame, and angei 
 that had brought his illness upon him, but 
 they only said that while he firmly refused to 
 see them before their departure, he had con- 
 sented to their return for the few brief hours 
 of their stay in the town. He felt that he had 
 done his duty in banishing his unbelieving 
 children from his roof, but he would not now 
 inflict such pain upon their mother and the 
 others to whom they were so dear by re- 
 fusing them an interview before their final 
 departure. He would not see them, but 
 others could satisfy their own consciences in 
 the matter. 
 
 And so they were all united once more, 
 but, alas I for the last time. But there was 
 too much to be done to allow of any great 
 delay, and quickly the reunited friends arose 
 to make the necessary preparations for the 
 journey to Providence ; for it was determined 
 that thither the banished brother and sister 
 should direct their steps. 
 
 Grace and her mother left the room to- 
 gether to seek Prudence and make needful
 
 MASTER HATHORNR'S FAMILY. ^69 
 
 arrangements. John went away to the room 
 that had been his own in happier days ; and 
 Ruth Paul Wallingford's hand was laid 
 gently upon her arm, as she was turning 
 away, and she remained with him. 
 
 Sorrowful indeed was the parting when at 
 last the hour came in which the little party 
 turned their faces for ever away from the 
 loved home. Assembled in the great hall, 
 with the household domestics standing around, 
 their faces sad and their eyes filled with tears, 
 the divided family stood. Somewhat busier 
 perhaps than the occasion demanded, John 
 was engaged in buckling and arranging care- 
 fully the strap of his sword belt, while Ruth 
 hung weeping upon her mother's neck, her 
 quick, low sobs thrilling to the heart of every 
 one who heard. Little Grace held one of her 
 sister's hands in her close clasp, as if she 
 could not let her go, and Willie was clinging 
 close upon the other side, nestling his soft 
 cheek and curly head in the warm folds of 
 her traveling-dress. It was indeed a hard 
 thing that the peace of their home should be 
 
 T
 
 37 MASTER HATHORNE'S FAMILY. 
 
 for ever destroyed. It was sad enough thai 
 hearts so dear to each other should be parted 
 without pity by the decree of mistaken zeal. 
 But it would have been far sadder had those 
 hearts remained united at the expense of the 
 truth which it was their duty to cherish. And 
 now, although such sorrow, deep and full, 
 was welling up in the hearts of those who 
 were to depart, they both rejoiced that they 
 were counted worthy to suffer for his name 
 who had called them to know himself and to 
 walk in the way of his own commandments. 
 
 At last the final words had all been spoken, 
 the farewell kisses given, and the exiled ones 
 went on their way. Ah, how different the 
 departure now from that only a few months 
 before ! Their faces were turned toward the 
 same place, but there was weeping now ; 
 there was joy then. There was heart rending 
 now ; there was sweet hope then. Then it 
 was the fair spring-time, but now the brown 
 leaves of autumn were falling in melancholy 
 showers to the earth. As the clatter of the 
 horses' hoofs died away in the distance there 
 fell upon the dwelling a dreary chill, as if the
 
 MASTER HATHORNE'S FAMILY. $J* 
 
 shining sun had hid his face in anger at the 
 deeds of men. 
 
 Ruth and John passed on quickly through 
 the town and out of its narrow bounds into the 
 free and open country ; and as they crossed 
 the neck of land that joins the peninsula with 
 the main land, they breathed more freely and 
 felt as if the shackles of bigotry and fanati- 
 cism were shaken off for ever. It was with 
 thankful hearts that they pressed on toward 
 their destination, for they thought of what 
 might have been their fate had not God in 
 his mercy tempered the anger of their judges 
 with thankful hearts, but with hearts how 
 heavy and sad can only be known by those 
 who are driven guiltless from their home and 
 all that they hold dear.
 
 CHAPTER XXVII. 
 
 THE PURITAN'S DEATHBED. 
 
 jjHE dwelling of Ezekiel Hathorne was 
 hushed and still, for its owner lay 
 upon his dying bed. He had not 
 left his room since the departure of his chil- 
 dren, and four long weeks had passed since 
 that day, and with each hour he had grown 
 more ill. For two weeks he had not left his 
 bed, but had been slowly, almost impercepti- 
 bly* growing feebler and paler and more 
 wasted as the time went by. It was strange, 
 this last illness ; no one could tell exactly 
 what its nature was. He had taken cold 
 at first, and had been seized with fever ac- 
 companied by great pain in the head and 
 chest; but the flush upon his cheek had 
 paled away, the pain bad left him after a 
 
 372
 
 MASTER HATHORNE'S FAMILY. 373 
 
 little while, and he had no acute bodily 
 suffering ; still, he did not become better, but 
 only worse. He lay quietly, uncomplaining, 
 and rarely speaking, but growing weaker 
 with every passing breath and seeming to 
 care less and less about the things going on 
 around him. 
 
 His wife and little Grace were unwearied in 
 their care for him. One of them was con- 
 stantly in the sick room, and often both were 
 at his side. But he seldom noticed them or 
 asked for anything at their hands, and they 
 were always unsuccessful when they tried to 
 draw his thoughts away from himself and the 
 subjects with which they knew his mind was 
 occupied. For both Grace and her mother 
 were well aware that his illness was not so 
 much of the body as of the mind, and that 
 continued sorrow of heart was wearing him 
 slowly away. 
 
 Grace had never told him that she also had 
 accepted the Baptist faith as her own. She 
 would not bring further suffering upon her 
 father and hasten his steps to the grave. 
 Enough pain had already been inflicted upon 
 
 32
 
 374 MASTER HATHORNE'S FAMILY. 
 
 his heart by the action of his two eldest chil- 
 dren. Grace, however, had talked with her 
 mother, and told her frankly all that had been 
 going on in her own mind, the history of her 
 inner life for the last few weeks. The good 
 woman's heart had been greatly troubled by 
 the tidings, for she would gladly have had 
 one of her children keep to the old faith, yet 
 she had concealed as far as possible her feel- 
 ings from Grace, that no further shadow might 
 be cast upon the closing life of her husband 
 from the sad faces of those about him. 
 
 But could they have known all that was 
 passing in the mind of the sick man during 
 those long, still hours, they would not have 
 feared so much to bring to his knowledge his 
 youngest daughter's conversion to the faith 
 that he had so bitterly opposed. For in the 
 quiet of his room he had thought of nothing 
 but the one great subject the heresy of his 
 children ; and though he looked no more leni- 
 ently, as the time went by, upon that heresy 
 itself, yet he began to doubt the rectitude of 
 his own action in regard to those who had 
 espoused its cause.
 
 MASTER HATHORNE'S FA MILT. 375 
 
 It had been a great shock to his already 
 troubled mind when it was announced to him 
 that his children had been imprisoned. It 
 was while he was ill, confined to his bed with 
 the painful fever fire in all his veins, that he 
 learned of his children's arrest; then came 
 the tidings of the trial and the sentence that 
 would probably be passed. He only an- 
 swered "Yes" when little Grace begged him 
 for her mother's sake to allow them to come 
 home once more, before they went away for 
 ever; but he said no more, and they were 
 content and brought them home. 
 
 But how was it with the father while his 
 children were beneath his roof once more and 
 for the last time, yet he would not allow him- 
 self to see them? For the first time during 
 his sickness he was alone, and there was no 
 longer any need of remembering that others' 
 eyes were upon him ; his pride was all put 
 away, and he bowed his face upon his hands 
 and groaned aloud. The voices, ah ! so well 
 known and so well loved voices he had not 
 heard for many a weary day came to his ear 
 faint and indistinct through the closed door.
 
 37<> MASTER HATHORNE'S FA MILT. 
 
 His heart beat heavily, his conscience smote 
 him, his purpose faltered, and he longed to cry 
 out and call the dear, lost ones to his side, to 
 ask their love, their forgiveness ; but he stifled 
 down his voice as the words were even rising 
 to his lips, and burying his face in his hands, 
 he wept like a little child. So the hour 
 passed, until they had gone, and the golden 
 opportunity had been thrown away. 
 
 He was much weaker that night than they 
 had yet seen him, and from that time he grew 
 rapidly worse. Never did he speak of John 
 or Ruth, and he never showed in any way 
 that he thought of them. But his wife and 
 little Grace knew. 
 
 At length the time has come to which the 
 anxious hours have been hurrying him along 
 while he has lain so passively on his bed. As 
 the red sun near his setting often sends across 
 the softened landscape a sudden gleam of 
 splendor, brighter than any of the glories of 
 summer afternoon, so now the failing powers 
 of the sick man grew strong before their final 
 extinction, and his soul in its near approach 
 to its God cast back upon the earth and into
 
 MASTER HATHORNE'S FAMILY. 377 
 
 the hearts of those who surrounded the death- 
 bed s glesm of brighter hope and of fairer 
 beauty than had ever emanated from it be- 
 fore. 
 
 He had lain all the morning in a sort of 
 stupor, taking no heed of anything about 
 him. Mr. Wilson and others had been to 
 see him, but he had recognized no one. At 
 last, late in the afternoon, he awoke, gazed 
 hastily about, and asked in a trembling voice 
 for his wife and children. They were at his 
 side in an instant, and he spoke with a strength 
 they little thought he possessed. 
 
 "I am going to die," he said, taking his 
 wife's hand. "I must go away, but I will 
 not, I cannot, go without forgiveness. I have 
 confessed my sin to God and he has forgiven 
 me, but you, ah, how can you forget the 
 wrong I have done all my dear ones I God 
 has opened my eyes that I may see. I have 
 been blinded, selfish, ignorant, thoughtless, 
 and cruel. I have not been a good father 
 nor a good husband, but God knows I mourn 
 my sin. Ah, John, my son, Ruth, my darl- 
 ing, I loved you both through all, but I drov 
 
 32
 
 378 MASTER HATHORNE'S FAMILT. 
 
 you away for ever; I shall never see you 
 again, never hear your dear voices nevei 
 in this world. But, thank God ! there is 
 a world to come, and our entrance there is 
 through one single door, that is open to all 
 who believe on the Lord Jesus Christ. I 
 have been the Pharisee. I have thought 
 myself too good for the company of my 
 children. But God will receive even a 
 repentant Pharisee, and I shall see them 
 again when they shall see their Saviour. 
 
 " Ah, Grace, I cannot ask them to forgive 
 me the wrong I have done them, but do you 
 tell them that their dying father blessed them ; 
 tell them that he no longer thought their course 
 sinful ; tell them that they have been better 
 Christians than I, for they have acted as their 
 conscience bade them and I have not; and, 
 dear little Grace, remember that it is I who 
 charge you I who have been so harsh and 
 cruel never to depart from that which 
 you think to be right, though all the world 
 would force you in another way. Dear child, 
 love Christ the Master, and it will be well 
 with you, whether you follow your father cz
 
 MASTER HATHORNE'S FAMILY. 379 
 
 your sister. Christ unites us all in him. May 
 he forgive our poor, misguided colony, that 
 would seek to divide from him too many who 
 are really his children ! 
 
 " And, mother, you forgive me too. You 
 have been wiser than I ; you have blessed our 
 children, while I have cursed them. Now I 
 must die. God forgive me and all." 
 
 Then he folded his hands together and 
 said, " Let us pray 1" and they all kneeled 
 down the wife, the sobbing children, the 
 domestics, who had crept with noiseless feet 
 into the dark room and he who stood upon 
 the border of eternity prayed the Father to 
 keep them all in truth and holiness to the end. 
 
 His last words were spoken painfully ; the 
 breath came slowly from his lips ; his eyes 
 opened wide, then closed again ; he mur- 
 mured low, and they bent their ears to his 
 lips to hear; it was only, "Dear John, dear 
 Ruth for give !" 
 
 Ezekiel Hathorne slept the sleep that knows 
 no waking save at the call of God in the 
 resurrection hour.
 
 CHAPTER XXVIII. 
 
 THE NEW FAMILY HOME AT PROVIDENCE. 
 
 FEW weeks after they laid the old 
 man away beneath the sod, on a 
 bright, fresh morning when all the 
 air sparkled with flashing, crystal moisture, 
 all that was left of Master Hathorne's family 
 went forth from the dear old house that 
 looked so reproachfully after them with its 
 staring window eyes, and turned their steps 
 in the way that John and Ruth had twice 
 trodden before. Mrs. Hathorne, who could 
 not keep back the tears of sorrow at leaving 
 the old home, rode upon a pillion behind a 
 sturdy and athletic man. Little Willie was 
 similarly mounted, trembling much inwardly 
 at the novelty of his situation, but carefully 
 
 380
 
 MASTER HATHORNE'S FAMILY. 381 
 
 trying to let no trace of his fears be observed 
 by those about him. Grace rode a small, 
 gentle pacer hired for the occasion. All the 
 domestics of the family had been placed in 
 the families of two of the neighbors, except 
 old Prudence, who insisted upon going to 
 Providence with them, and who now rode be- 
 hind one of the attendants. 
 
 So they went forth. Sadly, with few 
 words, they wended their way through the 
 little town and passed beyond its boundaries, 
 turning toward Watertown, where they were 
 to meet Paul Wallingford ; for he too was to 
 go with them to his home and .theirs. As 
 once before he had lingered full of impatience 
 at the junction of the two roads from Boston 
 and Cambridge, so now he was waiting by 
 the roadside the coming of the little caval- 
 cade, and no sooner did the sharp clatter of 
 the horses' hoofs reach his ear than he gal- 
 loped forward to meet his fellow-travelers. 
 
 Paul had not been idle during his stay in 
 the colony. His work had been so faithfully 
 performed that at last the attention of the 
 magistrates had been drawn to him ; and the
 
 3^ 2 MASTER HATHORNE'S FAMILY. 
 
 brethren of the Baptist church, which had 
 been forced to remove its place of meeting 
 from Charlestown to Noddle's Island, begged 
 him to save himself for future usefulness by a 
 timely departure beyond the power of the 
 Government. For a long time he had re- 
 sisted their appeals, seeing no cause for 
 alarm ; but now the ever watchful Solomon 
 had discovered that his arrest was spoken of, 
 and he had at last consented to go. So, with 
 the Indian, faithful and true as ever, as their 
 guide, the united party pursued their journey 
 toward the home of their loved ones, in the 
 land of religious toleration and freedom. 
 
 Now our task is nearly done. This book 
 is not a novel ; it is an historical narrative, 
 and as such it must be true to its purpose 
 and record the happiness, the peace, the deep 
 joy of the soul, that followed those whose ac- 
 quaintance we have made through its pages, 
 after the days of trouble, doubt, and trial 
 through which it has already carried them. 
 
 There was no delay. The Lord's Day fol- 
 lowing the arrival of friends at the Plantations 
 was bright and fair, the warm sunshine stream-
 
 MASTER HATHORNE'S FAMILY. 383 
 
 ing down through the leafless boughs of trees 
 and cheering all nature into a momentary re- 
 turn to life before the white-robed death of 
 the winter of New England. Once more 
 John and Ruth stood upon the bank of the 
 clear stream where they had first seen the 
 Baptists observe the ordinance of their Lord. 
 Their mother stood beside them with her mild, 
 loving eyes filled with tears of joy ; and as the 
 music of a beautiful Psalm arose upon the clear 
 air from a hundred voices, their little Grace was 
 led by Paul Wallingford down into the peaceful 
 wave, and by him was buried in the baptism of 
 Jesus Christ the Lord. 
 
 The dwelling of Master Wallingford is no 
 longer cheerless and lonely. A happy party 
 is assembled in the great room on the right 
 side of the hall that has hardly been opened 
 before since the house was built ; yet there 
 are no visitors there save the family of 
 Master Roger Williams. But there are many 
 in Master Wallingford's family now, for Ruth 
 and John and Grace and Willie with their 
 mother have all gone to live beneath his roof 
 and make his home happy again for him
 
 384 MASTER HATHORNE'S FAMILY. 
 
 For him ! Yes, and for all ; for the words 
 spoken in that one last hour, when Paul with 
 his hand on Ruth's arm gently kept her by 
 his side until he had told her that he loved 
 Grace, indeed, but not as he loved herself, 
 had at last been crowned by their mutual 
 promises before God, to serve him togethei 
 throughout life. 
 
 Peace had come at last to all. But their 
 peace was that of the followers of Christ 
 peace with God, peace with man, but stern, 
 unyielding warfare with the evil in the world. 
 But as their days went on, and as the days 
 passed into months and the months flocked 
 round the standards of the years, they found 
 it always true that God giveth his strength to 
 his beloved, sustaining them in every trial and 
 abundantly redeeming the promises of his 
 word by the blessing of his love. So they 
 awaited with hope and faith the joys of their 
 Father's house, where the Elder Brother 
 should receive them to himself. 
 
 THE END.
 
 SOUL"! REGIONAL Uf 
 
 A 000 040 549 8 
 
 CHILDREN'S BAPTIST HOME 
 OF SOUTHERN CALIFORNIA 
 
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