'/> HS ^^8^H[ m ,\ HBRf BH ' -fr 3uwKU H EHQ^BKE i > < A ! ^ ,' N J > : > H^R Hn BBBBH 1 j> H^HJ dBXuSDBSl '>'} - \> ^H^9I^I^^K ' ", ' ' 3BHJ^^^H^K Qy^^w ; ;..y ^^KBI ^^^^^H i^D^fliflj^^^y - > ^B^^^^K IHraMi I LIB.7A3Y UNIVERSITY OF CALIFORNIA SAN DIEGO __ ' H.55 A 65 A TNT DELIGHTS SCHOOL. PETER PARLEY'S OWN STORY. FROM THE PERSONAL NARRATIVE OF THE LATE SAMUEL G. GOODRICH, ("PETER PARLEY.") W.\i\i Illustrations. NEW YORK: PUBLISHED BY SHELDON & COMPANY, 335 BROADWAY, COB. WORTH ST. 1864. ENTERED according to Act of Congress, in the year 1863, by THE HEIRS OF 8. G. GOODKICH, In the Clerk's Office of the District Court of the United States, for the Southern District of New York. KLKOTBOTTPKD BY SMITH & MoDouGAL, 82 & 84 BEKKMAN Br. PEINTED BY C. 8. "WESTCOTT & Co.. 79 JOHN ST. CONTENTS CHAPTER L PAOB Birth and Parentage The Old House Ridgefleld The Meeting-house Parson Mead Keeler's Tavern The Cannon-ball Lieutenant Smith... CHAPTER II. The New House High Eidge Nathan Kellogg's Spy-glass The Shovel The Black Patch in the Eoad Distrust of British Influence Old Chich-es-ter Aunt Delight Return after Twenty Years. 16 CHAPTER IH. Kidgefleld Society Trades and Professions Chimney Corner Courtships Domestic Economy Dram-drinking Family Products Molly Gregory and Church Music Travelling Artisans Festival of the Quilts Clerical Patronage Raising a Church The Retired Tailor and HisFarm 80 CHAPTER IT. Habits of the People Their Costume Amusements Festivals Mar riagesFunerals Dancing Winter Sports My Two Grandmothers Mechanical Genius Importance of Whittling Pigeons Sporting Adventures . 46 IV CONTENTS. CHAPTER V. PA9B Death of Washington Jerome Bonaparte and Miss Patterson Sunday Travelling Oliver Wolcott Timothy Pickering American Politeness quite natural Locomotion Public Conveyances My Father's Chaise 68 CHAPTER VI. The Upper and Lower Classes of Ridgefield Master Stebbins and hlB School What is a Noun ? Deacon Benedict and his Man Abijah My Latin Acquirements Family Worship Widow Bennett The Temple of Dagon 65 CHAPTER VII. The Clergy of Fairfield A Laughing Parson The Three Deacons 79 CHAPTER VHL Mat Olmstead, the Town Wit The Salamander Hat Solar Eclipse- Lieutenant Smith Extraordinary Meteor Fulton and his Steam-boat Granther Baldwin and his Wife Sarah Bishop and her Cave 87 CHAPTER IX. Farewell to Home Danbury My New Vocation My Brother-in-law His Conversations with Lawyer Hatch Clerical Anecdotes 108 CHAPTER X. New Haven Distinguished Men Whitney's Cotton-ginDurham My Grandmother's Indian Pudding In Search of a Doctor Return to Danbury The Cold Friday Factory Workmen Mathematics 117 CHAPTER XI. Arrival at Hartford My Occupation there Restlessness My Friend George Sheldon 12* CONTENTS. CHAPTER XII. PASB Wat with England In the Army My Uncle's Advice Campaigning On the March Our Military Coetume My first Soldier's Supper 184 CHAPTER New London Our Military Reputation Sent with a Letter British Cannon-balls Out of Harm's Way An Alarm On Guard Take a Prisoner Strange Emotions My Left-hand Chum A Grateful Coun try 188 CHAPTER XIV. Effects of War in New England Personal Experience News of Peace Illuminations Confessions .......................................... 145 CHAPTER XV. Evil Effects of Night Study Commencement of a Literary Career Thoughts on Dancing New York Saratoga Death of my Uncle Become a Bookseller Cold Summer T' other Side of Ohio .......... 149 CHAPTER XVL Marriage Walter Scott Byron Sidney Smith's Taunt Publication of Original American Works Mrs. Sigourney 159 CHAPTER XVIL Domestic Troubles Sketch of Brainard Aunt Lucy's Back Parlor The fall of Niagara Death of Brainard : 184 CHAPTER XVIII. My First Visit to Europe Hurricane Arrival at Liverpool London Travel on the Continent Return to Bristol Interview with Hannah More Design in Travelling Visit to Ireland and Scotland. 1T2 CONTENTS. CHAPTER XIX. PAGE The Etlinburgh Lions Literary Celebrities Jeffrey in the Forum Sir "Walter at the Desk Biding with Scotch Ladies Beautiful Scenery , A Scotch Mist 17 CHAPTER XX. Blaekwood The General Assembly Sir Walter Scott Mr. and Mrs. Lockhart Origin of "Tarn O'Shanter" Last Words of Scott 187 CHAPTER XXI. En Boute for London u The Laird o' Cockpen" Localities of Legendary Fame Difference between English and American Scenery 195 CHAPTER XXII. London again Jacob Perkins and his Steam-gun Dukes of Wellington, Sussex, and Tork British Ladies at a Beview House of Commons and its Orators Catalan! Distinguished Foreigners Edward Irving compared to Edmund Kean Byron lying in State 208 CHAPTER XXHI. Beturn to the United States Boston and its Worthies Business Opera tions Ackermann s Forget-me-Not the Parent of all other Annuals The American Species Their Decline 216 CHAPTER XXIY. " The Token" N. P. Willis and Nathaniel Hawthorne Comparison be tween them Lady Authors Publishers' Profits Authors and Pub lishers... 222 CHAPTER XXV. I become an Author His real Name a profound Secret How it was dl vulged Great Success Illness The Doctors disagree English Imita tions Conduct of a London Bookseller Objections to Parley's Tales Mother Gooe , CONTENTS. CHAPTER XXVI. PAOB Children my first Patrons A Visit to New Orleans Feelings of Humil iation The Mice eat my Papers A Wrong Calculation .............. 251 CHAPTER XXVH. I make a Speech Lecture on Ireland Personal Attacks Become a Senator The "Fifteen Gallon Law" A Pamphlet in its Favor "My Neighbor Smith" A Political Career unprofitable ............... .'.... 257 CHAPTER XXVIIL Am appointed U. 8. Consul to Paris Louis XVIII. A few Jottings upon French Notabilities Cure for Hydrocephalus Unsettled State of Things in Paris .................................................. 266 CHAPTER XXIX. Louis Philippe and the Revolution List of Grievances The Mob at the Madeleine Barricades "Down with Guizotl" The Fight com menced Flight of the King and Queen Scene in the Chamber of Deputies Sack of the Tuileries ..................................... 274 CHAPTER XXX. After the Eevolution "Funeral of the Victims" The Constituent As- .. sombly Paris in a State of Siege Cavaignac Louis Napoleon chosen President ........................................................... 296 CHAPTER yXXT. The Author's Duties as Consul Aspect of Things in Paris Louis Napo leon's Designs The 3d of December, 1852 The New Reign of Terror complete Louis Napoleon as Emperor Out of Office Return to New York Conclusion ........ . ......................................... 801 CHAPTER XXXTT. The Death of Peter Parley ........................................... 818 ILLUSTRATIONS. AUNT DELIGHT (JfronUtpieet) MAKING MAPLE SUGAR 8T DEACON OLMSTEAD. 82 FIRST ADVENTURE ON THE SEA 119 THE COLD FRIDAY 124 WHITTLING... .. 167 PETER PARLEY'S OWN STORY, CHAPTEE I. BIRTH AND PARENTAGE THB OLD HOUSE BIDOEFIKLD THE MEETING- BOUSE PAB8ON MEAD KEELEB'S TAVEBN THE CANNON-BALL LIEU TENANT SMITH. IN the western part of the State of Connecticut is a small town named Ridgefield. This title is descriptive, and indicates the general form and position of the place. It is, in fact, a collection of hills, rolled into one general and commanding elevation. On the west is a ridge of mountains, forming the boundary between the States of Connecticut and New York ; to the south the land spreads out in wooded undulations to Long Island Sound ; east and north, a succession of hills, some rising up against the sky and others fading away in the dis tance, bound the horizon. In this town, in an antiquated and rather dilapidated house of shingles and clapboards, I was born on the 19th of August, 1793. My father, Samuel Goodrich, was minister of the Con gregational Church of that place, and there was no other religious society and no other clergyman in the town. He was the son of Elizur Goodrich, a distin guished minister of the same persuasion at Durham, Connecticut. Two of. his brothers were men of emi- 10 PETER PARLEY'S nence the late Chauncey Goodrich of Hartford, and Elizur Goodrich of New Haven. My mother was a (laughter of John Ely, a physician of Say brook, whose name figures, not unwoithily, in the annals of the revo lutionary war. I was the sixth child of a family of ten children, two of whom died in infancy, and eight of whom lived to be married and settled in life. My father's annual salary for the first twenty-five years, and during his ministry at Ridgefield, averaged four hundred dollars a-year : the last twenty-five years, during which he was settled at Berlin, near Hartford, his stipend was about five hundred dollars a-year. He was wholly without patrimony, and owing to peculiar circumstances, which will be hereafter explained, my mother had not even the ordinary outfit when they began their married life. Yet they so brought up their family of eight children, that they all attained respectable positions in life, and at my father's death he left an estate of four thousand dollars. These facts throw light upon the simple annals of a country clergyman in Connecticut, half-a-century ago ; they also bear testimony to the thrifty energy and wise frugality of my parents, and especially of my mother, who was the guardian deity of the household. Ridgefield belongs to the county of Fairfield, and is now a handsome town, as well on account of its artificial as its natural advantages ; with some two thousand in habitants. It is fourteen miles from Long Island Sound, of which its many swelling hills afford charming views. The main street is a mile in length, and is now em bellished with several handsome houses. About the middle of it there is, or was, some forty years ago, a white, wooden Meeting-house, which belonged to my OWNSTORT. 11 father's congregation. It stood in a small grassy square, the favorite pasture of numerous flocks of geese, and the frequent playground of school-boys, especially on Sunday afternoons. Close by the front door ran the public road, and the pulpit, facing it, looked out upon it on fair sum mer Sundays, as I well remember by a somewhat amusing incident. In the contiguous town of Lower Salem dwelt an aged minister, by the name of Mead. He was all his life marked with eccentricity, and about those days of which I speak, his mind was rendered yet more erratic by a touch of paralysis. He was, however, still able to preach, and on a certain Sunday, having exchanged with my father, he was in the pulpit and engaged in making his opening prayer. He had already begun his invocation, when David P , who was the Jehu of that genera tion, dashed by the front door upon a horse, a clever animal, of which he was but too proud in a full, round trot. The echo of the clattering hoofs filled the church, which, being of wood, was sonorous as a drum, and arrested the attention, as well of the minister as the con gregation, even before the rider had reached it. The minister was fond of horses, almost to frailty ; and, from the first, his practised ear perceived that the sounds came from a beast of bottom. When the animal shot by the door, he could not restrain his admiration ; which was accordingly thrust into the very marrow of his prayer "We pray Thee, O Lord, in a particular and peculiar manner thafs a real smart critter-^-to forgive us our manifold trespasses, in a particular and peculiar man ner," &c. I have somewhere heard of a traveller on horseback, who, just at eventide, being uncertain of his road, in- 12 PETER PARLEY'S quired of a person he chanced to meet, the way to Barkhamstead. " You are in Barkhamstead now," was the reply. " Yes, but where is the centre of the place ' " It hasn't got any centre." " Well, but direct me to the tavern." " There ain't any tavern." " Yes, but the meeting-house ?" " Why didn't you ask that afore ? There it is, over the hill !" "So, in those days, in Connecticut, as doubtless in other parts of JSfew England, the meeting-house was the great geographical monument, the acknowledged me ridian of every town and village. Even a place without a centre, or a tavern, had its house of worship ; and this was its point of reckoning. It was, indeed, something more. It was the town-hall, where all public meetings were held for civil purposes ; it was the temple of re ligion, the pillar of society, religious, social, and moral, to the people around. It will not be considered strange, then, if I look back to the meeting-house of Ridgefield, as not only a most revered edifice, but as in some sense the starting-point of my existence. Here, at least, linger many of my most cherished remembrances. A few rods to the south of this there was, and still is, a tavern, kept in my day by Squire Keeler. This insti tution ranked second only to the meeting-house ; for the tavern of those days was generally the centre of news, and the gathering-place for balls, musical entertainments, public shows, &c. ; and this particular tavern had special claims to notice. It was, in the first place, on the great thoroughfare of the day, between Boston and New York ; and had become a general and favorite stopping- OWN 8T O RT. 13 place for travellers. It was, moreover, kept by a hearty old gentleman, who united in his single person the varied functions of publican, postmaster, representative, justice of the peace, and I know not what else. He, besides, had a thrifty wife, whose praise was in all the land. She loved her customers, especially members of Congress, governors, and others in authority who wore powder and white top-boots, and who migrated to and fro in the lofty leisure of their own coaches. She was, indeed, a woman of mark ; and her life has its moral. She scoured and scrubbed, and kept things going, until she was seventy years old ; at which time, during an epidemic, she was threatened with an attack. She, however, declared that she had not time to be sick, and kept on working ; so that the disease passed her by, though it made sad havoc all around her, especially with more dainty dames who had leisure to follow the fashion. Besides all this, there was an historical interest at tached to Keeler's tavern ; for, deeply imbedded in the north-eastern corner-post, there was a cannon-ball, plant ed there during the famous fight with the British in 1777. It was one of the chief historical monuments of the town, and was visited by all curious travellers who came that way. Little can the present generation im agine with what glowing interest, what ecstatic wonder, what big, round eyes, the rising generation of Ridgefield, half a century ago, listened to the account of the fight, as given by Lieutenant Smith, himself a witness of the event and a participator in the conflict, sword in hand. This personage, whom I shall have occasion again to introduce to my readers, was, in my time, a justice of the peace, town librarian, and general oracle in such loose matters as geography, history, and law; then 14 PETEK PARLEY'S about as uncertain and unsettled in Ridgefield, as is now the longitude of Lilliput. He had a long, lean face ; long, lank, silvery hair ; and an unctuous, whining voice. With these advantages, he spoke with the au thority of a seer, and especially in all things relating to the revolutionary war. The agitating scenes of that event, so really great in itself, so unspeakably important to the country, had transpired some five-and-twenty years before. The ex isting generation of middle age had all witnessed it; nearly all had shared in its vicissitudes. On every hand there were corporals, Serjeants, lieutenants, captains, and colonels, no strutting fops in militia buckram, raw blue and buff, all fuss and feathers, but soldiers, men who had seen service and won laurels in the tented field. Every old man, every old woman, had stories to tell, radiant with the vivid realities of personal observation or ex perience. Some had seen Washington, and some Old Put ; one was at the capture of Ticonderoga under Ethan Allen ; another was at Bennington, and actually heard old Stark say, "Victory this day, or my wife Molly is a widow !" Some were at the taking of Stony Point, and others in the sanguinary struggle of Mon- mouth. One had witnessed the execution of Andre, and another had been present at the capture of Bur- goyne. The time which had elapsed since these events had served only to magnify and glorify these scenes, as well as the actors, especially in the imagination of the rising generation. If perchance we could now dig up and galvanize into life a contemporary of Julius Caesar, who was present and saw him cross the Rubicon, and could tell us how he looked and what he said, we should listen with somewhat of the greedy wonder with which. OWN STORY. 15 the boys of Ridgefield listened to Lieutenant Smith, when of a Saturday afternoon, seated on the stoop of Keeler's tavern, he discoursed upon the discovery of America by Columbus, Braddock's defeat, and the old French war ; the latter a real epic, embellished with romantic episodes of Indian massacres and captivities. When he came to the Revolution, and spoke of the fight at Ridgefield, and punctuated his discourse with a pres ent cannon-ball, sunk six inches deep in a corner-post of the very house in which we sat, you may well believe it was something more than words it was, indeed, "action, action, glorious action !" How little can people now-a- days comprehend or appreciate these things ! CHAPTER II. 90* NEW HOUSEHIGH BIDOE NATHAK XELLOGG's SFYOLAS6 TOT SHOVEL THB. BLACK PATCH IN THIS HOAD DISTEU6T OF Bl'.ITISB INFLUENCE OLD CHICH-B8-TER AUNT DELIGHT 11ETUKN AFTEB TWENTt TEARS. Mr memory goes distinctly back to the year 1797, when I was four years old. At that time a great event happened great in the narrow horizon of childhood : we removed from the Old House to the New House ! This latter, situated on a road tending westward and branching from the main street, my father had just built ; and it then appeared to me quite a stately mansion and very beautiful, inasmuch as it was painted red behind and white in front : most of the dwellings thereabouts being of the dun complexion which pine-boards and chestnut- shingles assume, from exposure to the weather. Long after, having been absent twenty years, I revisited this my early home, and found it shrunk into a very small and ordinary two-story dwelling, wholly divested of its paint, and scarcely thirty feet square. This building, apart from all other dwellings, was situated on what is called High Ridge, a long hill, look ing down upon the village, and commanding an exten sive view of the surrounding country. From our upper windows, this was at once beautiful and diversified. On the south, as I have said, the hills sloped in a sea of PKTEE PARLEY'S OWN STORY. 17 undulations down to Long Island Sound, a distance of some fourteen miles. This beautiful sheet of water, like a strip of pale sky, with the island itself, more deeply tinted, beyond, was visible in fair weather, for a stretch of sixty miles, to the naked eye. The vessels, even the smaller ones, sloops, schooners, and fishing-craft, could be seen, creeping like insects over the surface. With a spy-glass and my father had one bequeathed to him by Nathan Kellogg, a sailor, who made rather a rough voy age of life, but anchored at last in the bosom of the Church, as this bequest intimates we could see the masts, sails, and rigging. It was a poor, dim affair, com pared with modern instruments of the kind ; but to me, its revelations of an element which then seemed as beautiful, as remote, and as mystical as the heavens, sur passed the wonders of the firmament. To the west, at a distance of three miles, lay the undu lating ridge of hills, cliffs, and precipices already men tioned, and which bear the name of West Mountain. They are some five hundred feet in height, and from our point of view had an imposing appearance. Beyond them, in the far distance, glimmered the peaks of the highlands along the Hudson. These two prominent features of the spreading landscape the sea and the mountain, ever present, yet ever remote impressed them selves on my young imagination with all the enchant ment which distance lends to the view. I have never lost my first love. Never, even now, do I catch a glimpse of either of these two rivals of nature, such as I first learned them by heart, but I feel a gush of emotion as if I had suddenly met with the cherished companions of my childhood. In after days, even the purple velvet of the Apennines and the poetic azure of the Mediterranean, 18 PETER PARLEY'S have derived additional beauty to my imagination from mingling with these vivid associations of my childhood. It was to the New House, then, thus situated, that we removed, as I have stated, when I was four years old. On that great occasion, everything available for draught or burden was put in requisition ; and I was permitted, or required, I forget which, to carry the peel, as it was then called, but which would now bear the title of " shovel." Birmingham had not then been heard of in those parts, or at least was a great way off; so this particular utensil had been forged expressly for my father by David Olmstead, the blacksmith, as was the custom in those days. I recollect it well, and can state that it was a sturdy piece of iron, the handle being four feet long, with a knob at the end. As I carried it along, I doubt less felt a touch of that consciousness of power which must have filled the breast of Samson as he bore off the gates of Gaza. I recollect perfectly well to have per spired under the operation, for the distance of our migra tion was half-a-mile, and the season was summer. One thing more I remember : I was barefoot ; and as we went up the lane which diverged from the main road to the house, we passed over a patch of earth blackened by cinders, where my feet were hurt by pieces of melted glass and metal. I inquired what this meant, and was told that here a house was burned down by the British troops already mentioned, and then in full retreat, as a signal to the ships that awaited them in the Sound, where they had landed, and where they intended to embark. This detail may seem trifling ; but it is not without significance. It was the custom in those days for boys to go oarefoot in the mild season. I recollect few things OWN STORY. 19 in life more delightful than, in the spring, to cast away my shoes and stockings, and have a glorious scampei over the fields. Many a time, contrary to the express injunctions of my mother, have I stolen this bliss ; and many a time have I been punished by a severe cold for my disobedience. Yet the bliss then seemed a com pensation for the retribution. In these exercises I felt as if stepping on air ; as if leaping aloft on wings. I was so impressed with the exultant emotions thus experienced, that I repeated them a thousand times in happy dreams ; especially in my younger days. Even now these visions sometimes come to me in sleep, though with a lurking consciousness that they are but a mockery of the past; sad monitors of the change which time has wrought upon me. As to the black patch, in the lane, that, too, had its meaning. The story of a house burned down by a foreign army seized upon my imagination. Every time I passed the place I ruminated upon it, and put a hun dred questions as to how and when it happened. I was soon master of the whole story, and of other similar events which had occurred all over the country. I was thus initiated into the spirit of that day, and which has never wholly subsided in our country ; inasmuch as the war of the Revolution was alike unjust in its origin, and cruel as to the manner in which it was waged. It was, moreover, fought on our own soil ; thus making the whole people share, personally, in its miseries. There was scarcely a family in Connecticut whom it did not visit, either immediately or remotely, with the shadows of mourning and desolation. The British nation, to whom this conflict was a foreign war, are slow to com prehend the popular dislike of Engand, here in America. 20 PETER PARLEY'S Could they know the familiar annals of our towns and villages burn, plundered, sacked with all the attendant horrors, for the avowed purpose of punishing a nation 01 rebels, and those rebels of their own kith and kin : could they be made acquainted with the deeds of those twenty thousand Hessians, sent hither by King George, and who have left their name in our language as a word signify ing brigands, who sell their blood and commit murder for hire : could they thus read the history of minds and hearts, influenced at the fountains of life for several generations, they would perhaps comprehend, if they could not approve, the habitual distrust of British influ ence, which lingers among our people. About three-fourths of a mile from my father's house, on the winding road to Lower Salem, which I have already mentioned, and which bore the name of West Lane, was the school-house where I took my first lessons, and received the foundations of my very slender educa tion. I have since been sometimes asked where I graduated : my reply has always been, " At West Lane." Generally speaking, this has ended the. inquiry ; whether, because my questioners have confounded this venerable institution with " Lane Seminary," or have not thought it worth while to risk an exposure of their ignorance as to the college in which I was educated, I am unable to say. The site of the school-house was a triangular piece of land, measuring perhaps a rood in extent, and lying, ac cording to the custom of those days, at the meeting of four roads. The ground hereabouts as every where else in Ridgefield was exceedingly stony ; and, in making the pathway, the stones had been thrown out right and left, and there remained in heaps on either side, from OW K ST O KT . 21 generation to generation. All around was bleak and desolate. Loose, squat stone walls, with innumerable breaches, inclosed the adjacent fields. A few tufts of elder, with here and there a patch of briers and poke- weed, flourished in the gravelly soil. Not a tree, how ever, remained; save an aged chestnut, at the western angel of the space. This, certainly, had not been spared for shade or ornament, but probably because it would have cost too much labor to cut it down ; for it was of ample girth. At all events, it was the oasis in our desert during summer ; and in autumn, as the burrs disclosed its fruit, it resembled a besieged city ; the boys, like so many catapults, hurled at it stones and sticks, until every nut had capitulated. Two houses only were at hand : one, surrounded by an ample barn, a teeming orchard, and an enormous wood -pile, belonging to Granther Baldwin ; the other was the property of "Old Chich-es-ter ;" an uncouth, unsocial being, whom everybody, for some reason or other, seemed to despise and shun. His house was of stone, and of one story. He had a cow, which every year had a calf. He had a wife dirty and uncombed, and vaguely reported to have been brought from the old country. This is about the whole history of the man, so far as it is written in the authentic traditions of the parish. His premises, an acre in extent, consisted of a tongue of land between two of the converging roads. No boy, that I ever heard of, ventured to cast a stone, or to make an incursion into this territory, though it lay close to the school-house. I have often, in passing, peeped timidly over the walls, and caught glimpses of a stout man with a drab coat, drab breeches, and drab gai ters, prowling about the house ; but never did I discover 22 PETER PARLEY'S him outside of his own dominion. I know it was darkly intimated he had been tarred and feathered in the revo lutionary war ; but as to the rest, he was a perfect myth. The school-house itself consisted of rough, unpainted clap-boards, upon a wooden frame. It was plastered within, and contained two apartments, a little entry, taken out of a corner for a wardrobe, and the school room proper. The chimney was of stone, and pointed with mortar, which, by the way, had been dug into a honeycomb by -uneasy and enterprising penknives. The fireplace was six feet wide and four feet deep. The flue was so ample and so perpendicular, that the rain, sleet, and snow fell directly to the hearth. In winter, the battle for life with green fizzling fuel, which was brought in lengths and cut up by the scholars, was a stern one. Not unfrequently the wood, gushing with sap as it was, chanced to go out, and as there was no living without fire, the thermometer being ten or twenty degrees below zero, the school was dismissed, whereat all the scholars rejoiced aloud, not having the fear of the schoolmaster before their eyes. It was the custom at this place to have a woman's school in the summer months, and this was attended only by young children. It was, in fact, what we now call a primary or infant school. In winter, a man was employed as teacher, and then the girls and boys of the neighborhood, up to the age of eighteen, or even twenty, were among the pupils. It was not uncommon, at this season, to have forty scholars crowded into this little building. I was about six years old when I first went to school. My teacher was Aunt Delight, that is Delight Benedict, a maiden lady of fifty, short and bent, of sallow com- OWNSTORT. 23 plexion and solemn aspect. I remember the first day with perfect distinctness. I went alone for I was familiar with the road, it being that which passed by our old house. I carried a little basket, with bread and but ter within, for my dinner, and this was covered over with a white cloth. When I had proceeded about half way, I lifted the cover, and debated whether I would not eat my dinner then. I believe it was a sense of duty only that prevented my doing so, for in those happy days I always had a keen appetite. Bread and butter were then infinitely superior to pate de foie gras now ; but still, thanks to my training, I had also a conscience. As my mother had given me the food for dinner, I did not think it right to convert it into lunch, even though I was strongly tempted. I think we had seventeen scholars boys and girls mostly of my own age. Among them were some of my after-companions. I have since met several of them one at Savannah and two at Mobile respectably estab lished, and with families around them. Some remain, and are now among the grey old men of the town : the names of others I have seen inscribed on the tomb stones of their native village. And the rest where are they? The school being assembled, we were all seated upon benches, made of what were called slabs that is, boards having the exterior or rounded part of the log on one side : as they were useless for other purposes, these were converted into school-benches, the rounded part down. They had each four supports, consisting of straddling wooden legs set into augur-holes. Our own legs swayed in the air, for they were too short to touch the floor. 24 PETER PARLEY'S Oh, what an awe fell over me, when we were all seated and silence reigned around ! The children were called up one by one to Aunt De light, who sat on a low chair, and required each, as a preliminary, "to make his manners," which consisted of a small, sudden nod. She then placed the spelling-book which was Dilworth's before the pupil, and with a buck-handled penknife pointed, one by one, to the letters of the alphabet, saying, What's that ?" If the child knew his letters, the " what's that ?" very soon raH on thus : "What's that?" "A." " 'Stha-a-t 2" " B." "Sna-a-a-tP "C." " Sna-a-a-t ?" D."&c. I looked upon these operations with intense curiosity and no small respect, until my own turn came. I went up to the schoolmistress with some emotion, and when she said, rather spitefully, as I thought, "Make your obeisance !" my little intellects all fled away, and I did nothing. Having waited a second, gazing at me with indignation, she laid her hand on the top of my head, and gave it a jerk which made my teeth clash. I believe I bit my tongue a little ; at all events, my sense of dig nity was offended, and when she pointed to A, and asked what it was, it swam before me dim and hazy, and as big as a full moon. She repeated the question, but I was doggedly silent. Again, a third time, she said, " What's that ?" I replied : " Why don't you tell me what it is ? OWN STORY. 26 I didn't come here to learn you your letters." I have not the slightest remembrance of this, for my brains were all a wool-gathering ; but as Aunt Delight affirmed it to be a fact, and it passed into a tradition in my family, I put it in. What immediately followed I do not clearly remem ber, but one result is distinctly traced in my memory. In the evening of this eventful day the schoolmistress paid my parents a visit, and recounted to their astonished ears this my awful contempt of authority. My father, after hearing the story, got up and went away ; but my mother, who was a careful disciplinarian, told me not to do so again ! I always had a suspicion that both of them smiled on one side of their faces, even while they seemed to sympathize with the old lady on the other ; still, I do not affirm it, for I am bound to say of both my parents, that I never knew them, even in trifles, say one thing while they meant another. I believe I achieved the alphabet that summer, but my after progress, for a long time, I do not remember. Two years later I went to the winter school at the same place, kept by Lewis Olmstead a man who made a business of ploughing, mowing, carting manure, &c., in the sum mer, and of teaching school in the winter ; with a talent for music at all seasons, wherefore he became chorister upon occasion, when, peradventure, Deacon Hawley could not officiate. He was a celebrity in ciphering, and Squire Seymour declared that he was the greatest "arith- meticker" in Fairfield county. All I remember of his person is his hand, which seemed to me as big as Goli ath's, judging by the claps of thunder it made in my ears on one or two occasions. 3 26 PETER PARLEY'S The next step of my progress which is marked in my memory, is the spelling of words of two syllables. I did not go very regularly to school, but by the time I was ten years old I had learned to write, and had made a little progress in arithmetic. There was not a grammar, a geography, or a history of any kind in the school. Reading, writing, and arithmetic were the only things taught, and these very indifferently not wholly from the stupidity of the teacher, but because he had forty scholars, and the custom of the age required no more than he performed. I did as well as the other scholars, certainly no better. I had excellent health and joyous spirits ; in leaping, running, and wrestling I had but one superior .of my age, and that was Stephen Olmstead, a snug-built fellow, smaller than myself, and who, despite our rivalry, was my chosen friend and companion. I seemed to live for play : alas ! how the world has changed since then ! After I had left my native town for some twenty years, I returned and paid it a visit. Among the monuments that stood high in my memory was the West Lane school-house. Unconsciously carrying with me the measures of childhood, I had supposed it to be thirty feet square ; how had it dwindled when I came to estimate it by the new standards I had formed ! It was in all things the same, yet wholly changed to me. What I had deemed a respectable edifice, as it now stood before me was only a weather-beaten little shed, which, upon being measured, I found to be less than twenty feet square. It happened to be a warm summer day, and I ventured to enter the place. I found a girl, some eighteen years old, keeping a ma'am school for about twenty scholars, some of whom were studying Parley's Geography. The mis- OWN STORY. 27 tress was the daughter of one of my schoolmates, and some of the boys and girls were grandchildren of the little brood which gathered under the wing of Aunt De light, when I was an abecedarian. None of them, not even the schoolmistress, had ever heard of me. The name of my father, as having ministered to the people of Ridgefield in some bygone age, was faintly traced in their recollection. As to Peter Parley, whose geography they were learning, they supposed him to be a decrepit old gentleman hobbling about on a crutch, a long way off, for whom, nevertheless, they had a certain affection, inasmuch as he had made geography into a story-book. The frontispiece picture of the old fellow, with his gouty foot in a chair, threatening the boys that if they touched his tender toe he would tell them no more stories, secured their respect, and placed him among the saints in the calendar of their young hearts. " Well," thought I, " if this goes on, I may yet rival Mother Goose !" I hope the reader will not imagine that I am thinking too little of his amusement and too much of my own, if I stop a few moments to note the lively recollections I entertain of the joyousness of my early life, and not of mine only, but that of my playmates and companions. In looking back to those early days, the whole circle of the seasons seems to me almost like one unbroken morn ing of pleasure. I was of course subjected to the usual crosses incident to my age, those painful and mysterious visitations sent upon children the measles, mumps, whooping-cough, and the like ; usually regarded as retributions for the false step of our mother Eve in the Garden ; but they have almost passed from my memory, as if overflowed 28 PETER PARLEY'S and borne away by the general drift of happiness which filled my bosom. Among these calamities, one monu ment alone remains the small-pox. It was in the year 1798, as I well remember, that my father's house was converted into a hospital, or, as it was then called, a " pest-house," where, with some dozen other children, I was inoculated for this disease, then the scourge and terror of the world. The lane in which our house was situated was fenced up, north and south, so as to cut off all intercourse with the world around. A flag was raised, and upon it were inscribed the ominous words, " Strir 3 SMALL-POX." My uncle and aunt, from New Haven, arrived with their three children. Half-a-dozen others of the neighbor hood were gathered together, making, with our own children, somewhat over a dozen subjects for the experi ment. When all was ready, like Noah and his family, we were shut in. Provisions were deposited in a basket at a point agreed upon, down the lane. Thus we were cut off from the world, excepting only that Dr. Perry, the physician, ventured to visit us. As to myself, the disease passed lightly over, leaving, however, its indisputable autographs on various parts of my body. Were it not for these testimonials, I should almost suspect that I had escaped the disease, for I only remember, among my symptoms and my sufferings, a little headache, and the privation of salt and butter upon my hasty-pudding. My restoration to these privileges I distinctly recollect : doubtless these gave me more pleasure than the clean bill of health which they implied. Several of the patients suffered severely, and among them my brother and one of my cousins. OWN STORY. 29 But although there is evidence that I was subject to the usual drawbacks upon the happiness of childhood, these were so few that they have passed from my mind ; and those early years, as I look back to them, seem to have flowed on in one bright current of uninterrupted enjoyment. i* CHAPTEE III. BTOOBITELD SOCIETY TRADES AND PROFESSIONS CHIMNEY-CORNER COURT SHIPS DOMESTIC ECONOMY DRAM-DRINKING FAMILY PBODUCT8 MOL LY GREGORY AND CHURCH MUSIC TRAVELLING ARTISANS FESTIVAL OF THE QUILTS CLERICAL PATRONAGE RAISING A CHURCH THE RETIRED TAILOR AND HIS FARM. LET me now give you a sketch of Ridgefield and of the people, how they lived, thought, and felt, at the be ginning of the present century. It will give you a good idea of the rustic life of New England fifty years ago. From what I have already said, you will easily imagine the prominent physical characteristics and aspect of my native town: a general mass of hills, rising up in a crescent of low mountains, and commanding a wide view on every side. The soil was naturally hard, and thickly sown with stones of every size. The fields were divided by rude stone walls, and the surface of most of them was dotted with gathered heaps of stones and rocks, thus clearing spaces for cultivation, yet leaving a large portion of the land still encumbered. The climate was severe, on account of the elevation of the site, yet this was per haps fully compensated by its salubrity. Yet, despite the somewhat forbidding nature of the soil and climate of Ridgefield, it may be regarded as presenting a favorable example of New England country life and society at the time I speak of. The town was originally settled by a sturdy race of men, mostly the PETER PARLEY'S OWN STORY. 31 immediate descendants of English emigrants, some from Milford. Their migration over an intervening space of savage hills, rocks and ravines, into a territory so uninvit ing, and their speedy conversion of this into a thriving and smiling village, bear witness to their courage and energy. At the time referred to, the date of my earliest recol lection, the society of Ridgefield was exclusively English. I remember but one Irishman, one negro, and one Indian in the town. The first had begged and blarneyed his way from Long Island, where he had been wrecked ; the sec ond was a liberated slave ; and the last was the vestige of a tribe which dwelt of yore in a swampy tract, the name of which I have forgotten. We had a professional beg gar, called Jagger, who had served in the armies of more than one of the Georges, and insisted upon crying, " God save the king !" even on the 4th of July, and when openly threatened by the boys with a gratuitous ride on a rail. We had one settled pauper, Mrs Yabacomb, who, for the first dozen years of my life, was my standard type for the witch of Endor. Nearly all the inhabitants of Eidgefield were farmers, with the few mechanics that were necessary to carry on society in a somewhat primeval state. Even the persons not professionally devoted to agriculture had each his farm, or at least his garden and home lot, with his pigs, poultry, and cattle. The population might have been 1200, comprising two hundred families. All could read and write, but in point of fact, beyond the Almanac and Watts' Psalms and Hymns, their literary acquirements had little scope. There were, I think, four newspapers, all weekly, published in the State : one at Hartford, one at New London, one at New Haven, and one at Litch- field. There were, however, not more than three sub- 32 PETER PARLEY'S scribers to all these in our village. "We had, however, a public library of some tw f o hundred volumes, and, what was of equal consequence, the town was on the road which was then the great thoroughfare, connecting Boston with New York ; and hence we had means of intelligence from travellers constantly passing through the place, which kept us acquainted with the march of events. If Ridgefield was thus rather above the average of Connecticut villages in civilization, I suppose the circum stances and modes of life in my father's family were somewhat above those of most people around us. We had a farm of forty acres, with four cows, two horses, and some dozen sheep, to which may be added a stock of poultry, including a flock of geese. My father carried on the farm, besides preaching two sermons a-week, and visiting the sick, attending funerals, solemnizing mar riages, &c. He laid out the beds and planted the garden ; pruned the fruit-trees, and worked with the men in the meadow in hay-time. He generally cut the corn-stalks himself, and always shelled the ears ; the lat ter being done by drawing them across the handle of the frying-pan, fastened over a wash-tub. I was sometimes permitted, as an indulgence, to share this favorite em ployment with my father. With these and a few other exceptions, our agricultural operations were carried on by hired help. It was the custom in New England, at the time I speak of, for country lawyers, physicians, clergymen, even doctors of divinity, to partake of these homespun labors. In the library of the Athenaeum, at Hartford, is a collection of almanacs, formerly belonging to John Cotton Smith one of the most elegant and accomplished OWNSTORY. 33 men of his time a distinguished Member of Congress, Judge of the Superior Court, and several years Governor of the State; in looking it over, I observed such notes as the following, made with his own hand : " Cut my barley," " began rye harvest," " planted field of potatoes," &c. : thus showing his personal attention to, if not his participation in, the affairs of the farm. Nearly all the judges of the Superior Court occasionally worked in the field, in these hearty old federal times. But I returned to Ridgefield. The household, as well as political, economy of those days lay in this, that every family lived as much as possible within itself. Money was scarce, wages being about fifty cents a-day, though these were generally paid in meat, vegetables, and other articles of use seldom in money. There was not a factory of any kind in the place.* There was a butcher, but he only went from house to house to slaughter the cattle and swine of his neighbors. There was a tanner, but he only dressed other people's skins. There was a clothier, but he generally fulled and dressed other people's cloth. All this is typical of the mechani cal operations of the place. Even dyeing blue a portion of the wool, so as to make linsey-woolsey for short gowns, aprons, and blue-mixed stockings vital necessi ties in those days was a domestic operation. During the autumn, a dye-tub in the chimney corner thus placed so as to be cherished by the genial heat was as familiar in all thrifty houses as the Bible or the back-log. * I recollect, as an after-thought, one exception. There was a hatter who supplied the town ; but he generally made hats to order, and usually in exchange for the skins of foxes, rabbits, muskrats, and other chance peltry. I frequently purchased my powder and shot from the proceeds of skins which I sold him. 34 PETER PARLEY'S It was covered with a board, and formed a cosy seat in the wide-mouthed fireplace, especially of a chill evening. When the night had waned, and the family had retired, it frequently became the anxious seat of the lover, who was permitted to carry on his courtship, the object of his addresses sitting demurely in the opposite corner. Some of the first families in Connecticut, I suspect, could their full annals be written, would find their foundations to have been laid in these chimney-corner courtships. Being thus exposed, the dye-tub was the frequent sub ject of distressing and exciting accidents. Among the early, indelible incidents in my memory, one of the most prominent is turning this over. Nothing so roused the indignation of thrifty housewives, for, besides the stain left upon the floor by the blue, a most disagreeable odor was diffused by it. To this general system of domestic economy our family was not an exception. Every autumn, it was a matter ot course that we had a fat ox or a fat cow ready for slaughter. One full barrel was salted down ; the hams were cut out, slightly salted, and hung up in the chimney for a few days, and thus became " dried " or hung beef," then as essential as bread. Pork was managed in a similar way, though even on a larger scale, for two bar rels were indispensable. A few pieces, as the spare-ribs, &c., were distributed to the neighbors, who paid in kind when they killed their swine. Mutton and poultry came in their turn, all from our. own stock, except when on Thanksgiving-day some of the magnates gave the parson a turkey. This, let me observe, in those good old times, was a bird of mark ; no timid, crouching biped, with downcast head and pallid countenace, but stalking like a lord, and having wattles OWN8TORY. 35 red as a " banner bathed in slaughter." His beard was long, shining, and wiry. There was, in fact, something of the native bird still in him, for though the race was nearly extinct, a few wild flocks lingered in the remote woods. Occasionally, in the depth of winter, and towards the early spring, these stole to the barnyard, and held communion with their civilized cousins. Severe battles ensued among the leaders for the favors of the fair, and as the wild cocks always conquered, the vigor of the race was kept up. Our bread was made of rye, mixed with Indian meal. Wheat bread was reserved for the sacrament and com pany ; a proof not of its superiority, but of its scarcity and consequent estimation. All the vegetables came from our garden and farm. The fuel was supplied by our . own woods sweet-scented hickory, snapping chestnut, odoriferous oak, and reeking, fizzling ash the hot juice of the latter, by the way, being a sovereign antidote for the earache. These were laid in huge piles, all alive with sap, on the tall, gaunt andirons. The building of a fire, a real architectural achievement, was always begun by daybreak. There -was first a back-log, from fifteen to to four-and-twenty inches in diameter, and five feet long, imbedded in the ashes ; then came a top log, then a fore stick, then a middle stick, and then a heap of kindlings, reaching from the bowels down to the bottom. Above all was a pyramid of smaller fragments, artfully adjusted, with spaces for the blaze. Friction matches had not then been invented. So, if there were no coals left from the last night's fire, and none to be borrowed from the neigh bors, resort was had to flint, steel, and tinder-box. Often, when the flint was dull, and the steel soft, and the tinder damp, the striking of fire was a task requiring both 36 PETER PARLEY'S energy and patience. If the pile on the andirons waj skilfully constructed, the spark being applied, there was soon a furious stinging smoke ; but the forked flame soon began to lick the sweating sticks above, and by the time the family had arisen, and assembled in the " keeping- room," there was a roaring blaze, defying the bitter blasts of winter, which found abundant admittance through the crannies of the doors and windows.- To feed the family fire in those days, during, the severe season, was fully one man's work. But to go on with our household history. Sugar was partially supplied by our maple-trees. These were tapped in March, the sap being collected, and boiled down in the woods. This was wholly a domestic operation, and one in which all the children rejoiced, each taking his privilege of tasting, at every stage of the manufacture. The chief supply of sugar, however, was from the West Indies. Rum was largely consumed, but our distilleries had scarcely begun. A half-pint of it was given as a matter of course to every day laborer, more particularly in the summer season. In all families, rich or poor, it was offered to male visitors as an essential point of hospitality, or even good manners. Women I beg pardon ladies, took their schnapps, then named "Hopkins' Elixir," which was the most delicious and seductive means of get ting tipsy that has been invented. Crying babies were silenced with hot toddy. Every man imbibed his morn ing dram, and this was esteemed temperance. There is a story of a preacher, about those days, who thus lectured his parish : " I say nothing, my beloved brethren, against taking a little bitters before breakfast, and after break fast ; especially if you are used to it. What I contend OWN STORY. 37 against is, this dramming, dramming, dramming, at all hours of the day. There are some men who take a glass at eleven o'clock in the forenoon, and at four in the after noon. I do not purpose to contend against old-establish ed customs, my brethren, rendered respectable by tune and authority ; but this dramming, dramming, is a crying sin in the laud." As to brandy, I scarcely heard of it, so far as I can recollect, till I was sixteen years old, and, as an appren tice in a country store, was called upon to sell it. Cider was the universal table beverage. Brandy and whisky soon after came into use. I remember, in my boyhood, to have seen a strange zigzag tin tube, denominated a " still," belonging to one of our neighbors, converting, drop by drop, certain innocent liquids into " fire-water." But, in the days I speak of, French brandy was confined to the houses of the rich, and to the drug-shop. Wine, in our country towns, was then almost exclu sively used for the sacrament. There was, of course, no baker in Ridgefield ; each family not only made its own bread, cakes, and pies, but its own soap, candles, butter, cheese, and the like. The manufacture of linen and woollen cloth was no less a domestic operation. Cotton that h, raw cotton was then wholly unknown among us at the North, except as a mere curiosity, produced somewheix in the tropics ; but whether it grew on a plant, or an animal, was not clearly settled in the public mind. We raised our own flax, rotted it, hackled it, dressed it, and spun it. The little wheel, turned by the foot, had its place, and was as familiar as if it had been a member of the family. How often have I seen my mother, and my grandmother, too, sit down to it though this, as I 38 PETER PARLEY'S remember, was for the purpose of spinning some finer kind of thread the burden of the spinning being done by a neighbor of ours, Sally St. John. By the way, she was a good-hearted, cheerful old maid, who petted me beyond my deserts. I grieve to say, that I repaid her partiality by many mischievous pranks; for which I should have been roundly punished, had not the good creature forgiven and concealed my offences. I did, indeed, get fillipped for catching her foot one day in a steel-trap ; but I declare that I was innocent of malice prepense, inasmuch as I had set the trap for a rat, instead of the said Sally. Nevertheless, the verdict was against me ; not wholly on account of my misdemeanor in this particular instance, but because, if I did not deserve punishment for that, I had deserved it, and should deserve it for something else ; and so it was safe to administer it. The wool was also spun in the family ; partly by my sisters, and partly by Molly Gregory, daughter of our neighbor, the town carpenter. I remember her well as she sang and spun aloft in the attic. In those days, church-singing was the only one of the fine arts which flourished in Ridgefield, except the mnsic of the drum and fife. The choir was divided into four parts, ranged on three sides of the meeting-house gallery. The tenor, led by Deacon Hawley, was in front of the pulpit, the bass to the left, and the treble and counter to the right ; the whole being set in motion by a pitch-pipe, made by the deacon himself, who was a cabinet-maker. Molly took upon herself the entire counter, for she had excellent lungs. The fuguing tunes, which had then run a little mad, were her delight. In her solitary operations aloft I have often hoard her send forth, from the attic win dows, the droning hum of her wheel, with fitful snatches OWN8TOKY. 39 of a hymn, in which the bass began, the tenor followed, then the treble, and, finally, the counter winding np with irresistible pathos. Molly singing to herself, and all unconscious of eavesdroppers, carried on all the parts thus: Bass. " Long for a cooling Tenor. " Long for a cooling Trebk. " Long for a cooling Counter. " Long for a cooling stream at hand, And they must drink or die 1" The knitting of stockings was performed by the women of the family in the evening, and especially at tea-parties. This was considered a moral, as well as an economical, employment ; for people held, with Dr. Watts, that " Satan finds some mischief still For idle hands to do." Satan, however, dodged the question! for if the hands were occupied the tongue was loose ; and it was said that, in some families, he kept them well occupied with idle gossip. At all events, pianos, chess-boards, graces, battledoors and shuttlecocks, with other safety-valves of the kind, were only known by the hearing of the ear, as belonging to some such Vanity Fair as New York or Boston. The weaving of cloth linen as well as woollen was performed by an itinerant workman, who came to the house, put up his loom, and threw his shuttle, till the season's work was done. The linen was bleached and made up by the family ; the woollen cloth was sent to the fuller to be dyed and dressed. Twice a-year, that is, in the spring and autumn, the tailor came to the house 40 PETER PARLEY'S and made a stock of clothes for the male members ; this was called " whipping the cat." Mantuamakers and milliners came, in their turn, to fit out the female members of the family. There was a similar process as to boots and shoes. We sent the hides of the cattle cows and calves we had killed to the tanner, and these came back in assorted leather. Occa sionally a little morocco, then wholly a foreign manufac ture, was bought at the store, and made up for the ladies' best shoes. Amby Benedict, the travelling shoemaker, came with his bench, lapstone, and awls, and converted some little room into a shop, till the household was duly shod. He was a merry fellow, and threw in lots of sing ing gratis. He played all the popular airs upon his lap- stone as hurdygurdies and hand-organs do now. Carpets were then only known in a few families, and were confined to the keeping-room and parlor. They were all home-made : the warp consisting of woollen yarn, and the woof of lists and old woollen cloth, cut into strips, and sewed together at the ends. Coverlids generally consisted of quilts, made of pieces of waste calico, sewed together in octagons, and quilted in rect angles, giving the whole a gay and rich appearance. This process of quilting generally brought together the women of the neighborhood, married and single ; and a great time they had of it, what with tea, talk, and stitch ing. In the evening the men were admitted ; so that a quilting was a real festival, not unfrequently leading to love-making and marriage among the young people. This reminds me of a sort of communism or socialism, which prevailed in our rural districts long before Owen or Fourier was born. At Ridgefield we used to have "stone bees," when all the men of a village or hamlet OWN STORY. 41 came together with their draught cattle, and united to clear some patch of earth of stones and rocks. All this labor was gratuitously rendered, save only that the pro prietor of the land furnished the grog. Such a meeting was always, of course, a very social and sociable affair. When the work was done, gymnastic exercises such as hopping, wrestling, and foot-racing took place among the athletic young men. My father generally attended these celebrations as a looker-on. It was, indeed, the custom for the clergy of the olden time to mingle with the people, even in their labors and their pastimes. For some reason or other, it seemed that things went better when the parson gave them his countenance. I followed my father's example, and attended these cheerful and beneficial gatherings. Most of the boys of the town did the same. I may add that, if I may trust the traditions of Ridgefield, the cellar of our new house was dug by a u bee" in a single day, and that was Christmas. House-raising and barn-raising, the framework being always of wood, were done in the same way by a neigh borly gathering of the people. I remember an anecdote of a church-raising, which I may as well relate here. In the eastern part of the State, I think at Lyme, or Pauti- paug, a meeting-house was destroyed by lightning. After a year or two the society mustered its energies, and raised the frame of another on the site' of the old one. It stood about six months, and was then blown over. In due time another frame was prepared, and the neighbor hood gathered together to raise it. It was now proposed by Deacon Hart that they should commence the per formances by a prayer and hymn, it having been sug gested that perhaps the want of these pious preliminaries on former occasions had something to do with the calam- 42 PETER PARLEY'S itous results which attended them. When all was ready, therefore, a prayer was made, and the chorister of the place gave out two lines of the hymn, thus : " If God to build the house deny, The builders work in vain." This being sung, the chorister completed the verse thus, adapting the lines to the occasion: " Unless the Lord doth shingle it, It will blow down agin 1" I must not fail to give you a portrait of one of our village homes, of the middle class, at this era. I take as an example that of our neighbor, J. B., who had been a tailor, but having thriven in his affairs, and being now some fifty years old, had become a farmer. It was situated on the road leading to Salem, there being a wide space in front occupied by the wood-pile, which in these days was not only a matter of great importance, but of formidable bulk. The size of the wood-pile was, indeed, in some sort an index to the rank and condition of the proprietor. The house itself was a low edifice, forty feet long, and of two stories in front ; the rear being what was called a breakback that is, sloping down to a height of ten feet ; this low part furnishing a shelter for garden tools and various household instruments. The whole was constructed of wood, the outside being of the dun complexion assumed by unpainted wood, exposed to the weather for twenty or thirty years, save only that the roof was tinged of a reddish brown by a fine moss that found sustenance in the chestnut shingles. To the left was the garden, which in the productive OWN STORY. 43 season was a wilderness of onions, squashes, cucumbers, beets, parsnips, and currants, with the never-failing tansy for bitters, horseradish for seasoning, and fennel for keep ing old women awake in church time. The interior of the house presented a parlor with plain, whitewashed walls, a home-made carpet upon the floor, calico curtains at the window, and a mirror three feet by two against the side, with a mahogany frame : to these must be added eight chairs and a cherry table, of the manufacture of Deacon Hawley. The "keeping" or sitting-room had also a carpet, a dozen rush-bottom chairs, a table, &c. The kitchen was large fully twenty feel square, with a fireplace six feet wide and four feet deep. On one side it looked out upon the garden, the squashes and cucumbers climbing up and forming festoons over the door ; on the other it commanded a view of the orchard, embracing first a circle of peaches, pears, and plums ; and beyond, a wide-spread clover-field, embower ed with apple-trees. Just by was the well, with its tall sweep, the old oaken bucket dangling from the pole. The kitchen was, in fact, the most comfortable room in the house ; cool in summer, and perfumed with the breath of the garden and the orchard : in winter, with its roaring blaze of hickory, it was a cosy resort, defying the bitterest blasts of the season. Here the whole family assembled at meals, except when the presence of company made it proper to serve tea in the parlor. The bed-rooms were all without carpets, and the furni ture was generally of a simple character. The beds, how ever, were of ample size, and well filled with geese feathers, these being deemed essential for comfortable people. I must say, by the way, that every decent family had its flock of geese, of course, which was picked 44 PETER PARLEY'S thrice a -year, despite the noisy remonstrances of both gcose and gander. The sheets of the bed, though oi home-made linen,- were as white as the driven snow. Indeed, the beds of this era showed that ' sleep was a luxury, well understood and duly cherished by all classes. The cellar, extending under the whole house, was by no means the least important part of the establishment. In the autumn, it was supplied with three barrels of beef and as man)' of pork, twenty barrels of cider, with numerous bins of potatoes, turnips, beets, carrots, and cabbages. The garret, which was of huge dimensions, at the same time displayed a labyrinth of dried pump kins, peaches, and apples, hung in festoons upon the raf ters, amid bunches of summer savory, boneset, fennel, and other herbs, the floor being occupied by heaps of wool, flax, tow, and the like. The barn corresponded to the house. It was a low brown structure, having abundance of sheds built on to it, without the least regard to symmetry. It was well stocked with hay, oats, rye, and buckwheat. Six cows, one or two horses, three dozen sheep, and an ample supply of poultry, including two or three broods of turkeys, constituted its living tenants. The farm I need not describe in detail, but the orchard must not be overlooked. This consisted of three acres, covered, as I have said, with apple-trees, yielding abund antly as well for the cider-mill as for the table, includ ing the indispensable winter apple-sauce according to their kinds. I think an apple orchard in the spring is one of the most beautiful objects in the world. How often have I ventured into Uncle Josey's ample orchard at this joyous season, and stood entranced among the robins, blackbirds, woodpeckers, bluebirds, jays, and OWN STORY. 45 orioles, all seeming to me like playmates, racing, chas ing, singing, rollicking, in the exuberance of their joy, or perchance slily pursuing their courtships, or even more slily building their nests and rearing their young. The inmates of the house I need not describe, further than to say that Uncle Josey himself was a little deaf, and of moderate abilities ; yet he lived to good account, for he reared a large family, and was gathered to his fathers at a good old age, leaving behind him a hand some estate, a fair name, and a good example. His wife, who spent her early life at service in a kitchen, was a handsome, lively, efficient woman, and a universal favorite in the neighborhood. This is the homely picture of a Ridgefield farmer's home half a century ago. There were other establish ments more extensive and more sumptuous in the town, as there were others also of an inferior grade ; but this was a fair sample of the houses, barns, and farms of the middle class. CHAPTEK IY. HABITS OF THE PEOPLE THEIR COSTUME AMUSEMENTS FESTIVALS MAR* BIAUES FUNERALS DANCING WINTER SPORTS MX TWO GRAND MOTHERS MECHANICAL GENIUS IMPORTANCE OF WHITTLING PIGEONS SPORTING ADVENTURES. You will now have some ideas of the household industry and occupations of the country people in Connecticut, at the beginning of the present century. Their manners, in other respects, had a corresponding stamp of homeli ness and simplicity. In most families, the first exercise of the morning was reading the Bible, followed by a prayer, at which all were assembled, including the servants and helpers of the kitchen and the farm. Then came the breakfast, which was a substantial meal, always including hot viands, with vegetables, apple-sauce, pickles, mustard, horseradish, and various other condiments. Cider was the common drink for laboring people : even children drank it at will. Tea was common, but not so general as now. Coffee was almost unknown. Dinner was a still more hearty and varied repast characterised by abundance of garden vegetables ; tea was a light supper. The day began early : the breakfast hour was six in summer and seven in winter ; dinner was at noon the work-people in the. fields being called to their meals by a conchshell winded bv some kitchen Triton. Tea was PETER PARLEY'S OWN STORY. 47 usually taken about sundown. In families where all were laborers, all sat at table, servants as well as masters the food being served before sitting down. In families where the masters and mistresses did not share the labors of the household or the farm, the meals of the domestics were taken separately. There was, however, in those days a perfectly good understanding and good feeling between the masters and servants. The latter were not Irish : they had not as yet imbibed the plebeian envy of those above them, which has since so generally embit tered and embarrassed American domestic life. The terms " democrat " and " aristocrat " had not got into use : these distinctions, and the feelings now implied by them, had indeed no existence in the hearts of the peo ple. Our servants, during all my early life, were generally the daughters of respectable farmers and mechanics in tlie neighborhood, and, respecting others, were themselves respected and cherished. They were devoted to the interests of the family, and were always relied upon and treated as friends. In health they had the same food, in sickness the same care, as the masters and mistresses or their children. At the period of my earliest recollections, men of all classes were dressed in long, broad-tailed coats, with huge pockets ; long waistcoats, breeches, and hats with low crowns and broad brims : some so wide as to be supported at the sides with cords. The stockings of the parson, and a few others, were of silk in summer and worsted in winter; those of the people were generally of wool. Women dressed in wide bonnets, sometimes of straw and sometimes of silk ; and gowns of silk, muslin, gingham, &c., generally close and short-waisted, the breast and shoulders being covered by a full muslin 48 PETER PARLEY'S kerchief. Girls ornamented themselves with a large white vandike. On the whole, the dress of both men and women has greatly changed ; for at Ridgefield, as at less remote places, the people follow, though at a distance, the fashions of Paris. The amusements were then much the same as at pres ent, though some striking differences may be noted. Books and newspapers were then scarce, and were read respectfully, and as if they were grave matters, demand ing thought and attention. They were not toys and pastimes, taken up every day, and by everybody, in the short intervals of labor, and then hastily dismissed, like waste paper. The aged sat down when they read, and drew forth their spectacles, and put them deliberately and reverently upon the nose. Even the young ap proached a book with reverence, and a newspaper with awe. How the world has changed ! The two great festivals were Thanksgiving and "Train ing-day ;" the latter deriving, from the still lingering spirit of the revolutionary war, a decidedly martial char acter. The marching of the troops, and the discharge of gunpowder, which invariably closed the exercises, were glorious and inspiring mementoes of heroic achievements upon many a bloody field. The music of the drum and fife resounded on every side. A match between two rival drummers always drew an admiring crowd, and was in fact one of the chief excitements of the great day. Tavern-haunting, especially in winter, when there was little to do, for manufactures had not then sprung up to give profitable occupation during this inclement season, was common even with respectable farmers. Marriages were celebrated in the evening, at the house of the bride, with a general gathering of the neighborhood, and OWN8TORY. 49 were usually finished off by dancing. Everybody went, as to a public exhibition, without invitation. Funerals generally dre\v large processions, which proceeded to the grave. Here the minister always made an address suited to the occasion. If there were anything remarkable in the history of the deceased, it was turned to religious ac count in the next Sunday's sermon. Singing-meetings, to practise church music, were a great resource for the young in winter. Dances at private houses were com mon, and drew no reproaches from the sober people pres ent. Balls at the taverns were frequented by the young ; the children of deacons and ministers attended, though the parents did not. The winter brought sleighing, skating, and the usual round of indoor sports. In gene ral, the intercourse of all classes was kindly and con siderate, no one arrogating superiority, and yet no one refusing to acknowledge it where it existed. You would hardly have noticed that there was a higher and a lower class. Such there were, certainly ; for there must al ways and everywhere be the strong and the weak, the wise and the foolish. But in our society these existed without being felt as a privilege to one, which must give offence to another. It may serve in some degree to throw light upon the manners and customs of this period, if I give you a sketch of my two grandmothers. Both were widows, and were well stricken in years when they came to visit us at Ridgefield, about the year 18034. My grand mother Ely was a lady of the old school, and sustaining the character in her upright carriage, her long, tapering waist, and her high-heeled shoes. The customs of Louis XV.'s time had prevailed in New York and Boston, and even at this period they still lingered there in isolated 5 50 PETER PAKLEY'S cases. It is curious enough, that at this time the female attire of a century ago is revived ; and every black-eyed, stately old lady, dressed in black silk, and showing her steel-grey hair beneath her cap, reminds me of my ma ternal grandmother. My other grandmother was in all things the opposite ; short, fat, blue-eyed, and practical ; a good example of a hearty country dame. I scarcely knew which of the two I liked the best. The first sang me plaintive songs, told me stories of the Revolution her husband, Col. Ely, having had a large and painful share in its vicissitudes she described Gen. Washington, whom she had seen ; and the French officers, Lafayette, Rochambeau, and others, who had been inmates of her house. She told me tales of even more ancient date, and recited poetry, generally ballads, which were suited to my taste. And all this lore was commended to me by a voice of inimit able tenderness, and a manner at once lofty and conde scending. My other grandmother was not less kind, but she promoted my happiness and prosperity in another way. Instead of stories, she gave me bread and butter : in place of poetry, she fed me with apple-sauce and pie. Never was there a more hearty old lady : she had a firm conviction that children must be fed, and what she be lieved she practised. I can recollect with great vividness the interest I took in the domestic events I have described. The operations of the farm had no great attractions for me. Ploughing, hoeing, digging, seemed to me mere drudgery, imparting no instruction, and affording no scope for ingenuity or invention. Mechanical operations, especially those of the weaver and carpenter, on the contrary, stimulated my curiosity, .OWN STORY. 51 and excited my emulation. Thus I soon became familiar with the carpenter's tools, and made such windmills, kites, and perpetual motions, as to win the admiration of my playmates, and excite the respect of my parents ; so that they seriously meditated putting me apprentice to 8 carpenter. Up to the age of fourteen, I think this waa regarded as my manifest destiny. It was a day of great endeavors among all inventive geniuses. Fulton was struggling to develop steam navigation ; and other dis coverers were seeking to unfold the wonders of art as well as of nature. It was, in fact, the very threshold of the era of steam-boats, railroads, electric telegraphs, and a thousand other useful discoveries, which have since changed the face of the world. In this age of excitement, perpet ual motion was the great hobby of aspiring mechanics. I pondered and whittled intensely on this subject before I was ten years old. Despairing of reaching my object by mechanical means, I attempted to arrive at it by magnetism, my father having bought me a pair of horse shoe magnets in one of his journeys to New Haven. J should have succeeded, had it not been a principle in the nature of this curious element, that no substance will in tercept the stream of attraction. I tried to change the poles, and turn the north against the south ; but there, too, nature had headed me, and of course I failed. A word, by the way, on the matter of whittling. This is generally represented as a sort of idle, fidgety, frivo lous use of the penknife, and is set down, by foreigners and sketchers of American manners, as a peculiar charac teristic of our people. No portrait of an American is deemed complete, unless with penknife and shingle in hand. I feel not the slightest disposition to resent even, this, among the thousand caricatures that pass for traits 62 PETEB PARLEY-' 8 of American life. For my own part, I can testify that, during my youthful days, I found the penknife a source of great amusement, and even of instruction. Many a long winter evening, many a dull, drizzly day, in spring, and summer, and autumn sometimes at the kitchen fire side, sometimes in the attic, sometimes in a cosy nook of the barn, sometimes in the shelter of a neighboring stone wall, thatched over with wild grape-vines have I spent in great ecstasy, making candle-rods, or some other sim ple article of household goods, for my mother ; or in perfecting toys for myself and my young friends ; or per haps in attempts at more ambitious achievements. This was not mere waste of time ; mere idleness and dissipa tion. I was amused : that was something. Some of the pleasantest remembrances of my childhood carry me back to the scenes I have just indicated ; when, in happy soli tude, absorbed in my mechanical devices, I listened to the rain pattering upon the roof, or the wind roaring down the chimney: thus enjoying a double bliss, a pleas ing occupation, with a conscious delight in my sense of security from the rage of the elements without. Nay more ; these occupations were instructive : my mind was stimulated to inquire into the mechanical pow ers, and my hand was educated to mechanical dexterity. If you ask me why it is that this important institution of whittling is indigenous among us, I reply that, in the first place, our country is full of a great variety of woods, suited to carpentry, many of them easily wrought, and thus inviting boyhood to try its hands upon them. In the next place, labor is dear ; and therefore even children are led to supply themselves with toys, or perchance to furnish some of the simpler articles of use to the house hold. This dearness of labor, moreover, furnishes a OWN STORY. 53 powerful stimulant to the production of labor-saving machines ; and hence it is through all these causes co operating one with another that steam-navigation, the electric telegraph, the steam-reaper, 9 Let me here repeat an anecdote; which I have indeed told before, but which I had from the lips of its hero, a clergyman, of some note thirty years ago, and which well illustrates this part of my story. At a village school, not many miles from Ridgefield, he was put into Web ster's Grammar. Here he read, " A noun is the name of a thing as horse, hair, justice? Now, in his innocence, he read it thus : " A noun is the name of a thing as horse-hair justice" " What, then," said he, ruminating deeply, " is a noun ? But first I must find out what a horse-hair jus tice is." Upon this he meditated for some days, but still'he was as far as ever from the solution. Now, his father was a man of authority in those parts, and, moreover, he was a justice of the peace. Withal, he was of respectable an cestry, and so there had descended to him a stately high- backed settee, covered with horse-hair. One day, as the youth came from school, pondering upon the great gram matical problem, he entered the front door of the house, and there he saw before him his father, officiating in his legal capacity, and seated upon the old horse-hair settee. " I have found it !" said the boy to himself, greatly de lighted " my father is a horse-hair justice, and there fore a noun !" Nevertheless, it must be admitted that the world got on remarkably well in spite of this narrowness of the country schools. The elements of an English education were pretty well taught throughout the village seminaries of Connecticut, and, I may add, of New England. The teachers were heartily devoted to their profession : they respected their calling, and were respected and encour aged by the community. They had this merit, that 70 PETER PARLEY'S while they attempted little, that, at least, was thoroughly performed. I went steadily to the Tip-town school for three win ters ; being occupied during the summers upon the farm, and in various minor duties. I was a great deal on horseback, often carrying messages to the neighboring towns of Reading, Wilton, Weston, and Lower Salem, for then the post routes were few, and the mails, which were weekly, crept like snails over hill and valley. I be came a bold rider at an early age : before I was eight years old I frequently ventured to put a horse to his speed, and that, too, without a saddle. A person who has never tried it, can hardly conceive the wild delight of riding a swift horse, when he lays down his ears, tosses his tail in air, and stretches himself out in a full race. The intense energy of the beast's movements, the rush of the air, the swimming backward of lands, houses, and trees, with the clattering thunder of the hoofs all con vey to the rider a fierce ecstasy, which, perhaps, nothing else can give. About this period, however, I received a lesson, which lasted me a lifetime. You must know that Deacon Benedict, one of our neighbors, had a fellow living with him named Abijah. He was an adventurous youth, and more than once led me into tribulation. I remember that on one occasion I went with him to shoot a dog that was said to worry the deacon's sheep. It was night, and dark as Egypt, but Bige said he could see the creature close to the cow house, behind the barn. He banged away, and then jumped over the fence, to pick up the game. After a time he came back, but said not a word. Next morning it was found that he had shot the brindled cow ; mistak ing a white spot in her forehead for the dog, he had OWN STORY. 71 taken a deadly aim, and put the whole charge into her pate. Fortunately her skull was thick and the shot small, so the honest creature was only a little cracked. Bige, however, was terribly scolded- by the deacon, who was a justice of the peace, and had a deep sense of the importance of his duties. I came in for a share of blame, though I was only a looker-on. Bige said the deacon called me a " parsnip scrimmage," but more prob ably it was a particeps criminis. But to proceed. One day I was taking home from the pasture a horse that belonged to some clergyman I believe Dr. Ripley, of Greensfarms. Just as I came upon the level ground in front of Jerry Mead's old house, Bige came up behind me on the deacon's mare an ambling brute with a bushy tail and shaggy mane. As he approached he gave a chirrup, and my horse, half in fright and half in fun, bounded away, like Tarn O'Shanter's mare. Away we went, I holding on as well as I could, for the animal was round as a barrel. He was no doubt used to a frolic of this sort, although he belonged to a doctor of divinity, and looked as if he be lieved in total depravity. When he finally broke into a gallop he flew like the wind, at the same time bounding up and down with a tearing energy, quite frightful to think of. After a short race he went from under me, and I came with a terrible shock to the ground. The breath was knocked out of me for some seconds, and as I recovered it with a gasping effort, my sensations were indescribably agonizing. Greatly humbled and sorely bruised, I managed to get home, where the story of my adventure had preceded me. I was severely lectured by my parents, which, however, I might have forgotten, had not the concussion made an indelible im- 72 PETER PARLEY 8 pression on my memory, thus perpetuating the whole some counsel. When I was about twelve years old, a man by the name of Sackett was employed to keep a high-school, or, as it was then called, an academy. Here I went irregu larly for a few weeks, and at a public exhibition I remem ber to have spoken a piece, upon a stage fitted up in the meeting-house, entitled " Charles Chatterbox." This was the substance of my achievements at Sackett's seminary. The narrowness of my father's income, and the needs of a large family, induced him to take half-a-dozen pupils to be fitted for college. This he continued for a series of years. It might seem natural that I should have shared in these advantages ; but, in the first place, my only and elder brother, Charles A. Goodrich now widely known by his numerous useful publications had been destined for the clerical profession, partly by his own predilection, partly by encouragement from a relative, and partly, too, from an idea that his somewhat delicate constitution for bade a more hardy career. To this may doubtless be added the natural desire of his parents that at least one of their sons should follow the honored calling to which father, grandfather, and great-grandfather had been devoted. Hence he was put in training for college. The expenses to be thus incurred were formidable enough to my parents, without adding to them by attempting any thing of the kind for me. And, besides, I had manifest ed no love of study, and evidently preferred action to books. Moreover, it must be remembered, that I was regarded as a born carpenter, and it would have seemed tempting Providence to have set me upon any other career. So, with perfect content on my part, from the age of twelve to fourteen, I was chiefly employed in OWN STORY. 73 active services about the house and farm. I could read, write, and cipher ; this was sufficient for my ambition, and satisfactory to my parents, in view of the life to which I was apparently destined. Nevertheless, though my school exercises were such as I have described, I doubtless gathered some little odds and ends of learning about those days, beyond the range of my horn-books. I heard a good deal of conversation from the clergymen who visited us, and, above all, I listened to the long discourses of Lieutenant Smith upon matters and things in general. My father, too, had a brother in Congress, from whom he received letters, documents, and messages, all of which became subjects of discussion. I remember, further, that out of some childish imitation, I thumbed over Corderius and Eras mus the first Latin books, then constantly in the hands of my father's pupils. I was so accustomed to hear them recite their lessons in Virgil, that Tityre, tu patulce recubans sub tegmine fagi and Arma, arms virumque, and the man cano, I sing, were as familiar to my ears as hillery, tillery, zachery zan, and probably conveyed to my mind about as much mean ing. Even the first lesson in Greek Ev, in dpxy, the beginning rjv was o Aoyof, the "Word was also among the cabalistic jingles in my memory. All this may seem nothing as a matter of education ; still, some years after, while I was an apprentice in Hartford, feeling painfully impressed with the scantiness of my knowledge, I borrowed some Latin school-books, under 4 PRTER PARLEY'S the idea of attempting to master that language. To my delight and surprise, I found that they seemed familiar to me. Thus encouraged, I began, and bending steadily over my task at evening, when my day's duties were over, I made my way nearly through the Latin Grammar and the first two books of Virgil's ^Eneid. In my poverty of knowledge, even these acquisitions became useful to me. From the age of twelve to fifteen, though generally occupied in the various tasks assigned me, I still found a good deal of time to ramble over the country. Whole days I spent in the long, lonesome lanes that wound be tween Ridgefield and Salem, in the half-cultivated, half- wooded hills that lay at the foot of West Mountain, and in the deep recesses of the wild and rugged regions be yond. I frequently climbed to the tops of the cliffs and ridges that rose one above another ; and having gained the crown of the mountain, cast long and wistful glances over the blue vale that stretched out for many miles to the westward. I had always my gun in hand, and though not insensible to any sport that might fall in my way, I was more absorbed in the fancies that came thronging to my imagination. Thus I became familiar with the whole country around, and especially with the shaded glens and gorges of West Mountain. I must add that these had, besides their native, savage charms, a sort of fascination from being the residence of a strange woman, who had devoted herself to solitude, and was known under the name of " the Hermitess." This per sonage I had occasionally seen in our village ; and I frequently met her as she glided through the foists, while I was pursuing my mountain rambles. I some times felt a strange thrill as she passed; but this only OWN STORY. 75 seemed to render the recesses where she dwelt still more inviting. I have no doubt that I inherited from my mother a love of the night side of nature ; not a love that begets melancholy, but an appetite that found pleasure in the shadows, as well as the lights, of life and imagination. Eminently practical as she was laborious, skilful, and successful in the duties which Providence had assigned her, as the head of a large family, with narrow means she was still of a poetic temperament. Her lively fancy was vividly set forth by a pair of the finest eyes I have ever seen ; dark and serious, yet tender and sentimental. These bespoke, not only the vigor of her conceptions, but the melancholy tinge that shaded her imagination. Sometimes, indeed, the well of sadness in her heart be came full, and it ran over in tears. These, however, were like spring showers ; brief in duration, and after wards brightening to all around. She was not the only woman who has felt better after a good cry. It was, in fact, a poetic, not a real sorrow, that thus excited her emotions ; for her prevailing humor abounded in wit and vivacity, not unfrequently taking the hue of playful satire. Nevertheless, her taste craved the pathetic, the mournful ; not as a bitter medicine, but a spicy condi ment. Her favorite poets were King David and Dr. Watts : she preferred the dirge-like melody of Windham to all other music. All the songs she sang were minors. You will gather, from what I have said, that my father not only prayed in his family night and morning, but be fore breakfast, and immediately after the household was assembled he always read a chapter in the sacred volume. It is recorded in our family Bible, that he read it through, in course, thirteen times in the space of about 76 PETEE PARLEY'S five-and-twenty years. He was an excellent reader, hav ing a remarkably clear, frank, hearty voice ; so that I was deeply interested, and thus early became familiar with almost every portion of the Old and New Testa ment. The practice of family worship, as I before stated, was at this time very general in New England. In Ridgefield, it was not altogether confined to the strictly religious ; to clergymen, deacons, and church members. It was a custom which decency hardly allowed to be omitted. No family was thought to go on well without it. There is a good story which well describes this trait of man ners. Somewhere in Vermont, in this golden age, there was a widow by the name of Bennett. In consequence of the death of her husband, the charge of a large farm and an ample household devolved upon her. Her hus band had been a pious man, and all things had prospered with him. His widow, alike from religious feeling and affectionate regard for his memory, desired that every thing should be conducted as much as possible as it had been during his lifetime. Especially did she wish the day to begin and close with family worship. Now, she had a foreman on the farm by the name of Ward. He was a good man for work, but he was not a religious man. In vain did the widow, in admitting his merits at the plough, the scythe, and the flail, still urge him to crown her wishes, by leading in family prayer. For a long time the heart of the man was hard, and his ear deaf to her entreaties. At last, however, wearied with her importunities, he seemed to change, and, to her great joy, consented to make a trial. On a bright morning in June at early sunrise the OWNSTORT. 77 family were all assembled in the parlor, men and maidens, for their devotions. When all was ready, Ward, in a low, troubled voice, began. He had never prayed, or at least not in public, but he had heard many prayers, and possessed a retentive memory. After get ting over the first hesitancy, he soon became fluent, and taking passages here and there from the various petitions he had heard Presbyterian, Methodist, Universalist, and Episcopalian he went on with great eloquence, gradually elevating his tone and accelerating his delivery. Ere long his voice grew portentous, and some of the men and maids, thinking he was suddenly taken either mad or inspired, stole out on their toes into the kitchen, where, with gaping mouths, they awaited the result. The Widow Bennett bore it all for about half an hour ; but at last, as the precious time was passing away, she lost patience, and sprang to her feet. Placing herself directly in front of the speaker, she exclaimed, " Ward, what do you mean ?" As if suddenly relieved from a nightmare, he ex claimed, " Oh dear, ma'am, I'm much obliged to you ; for somehow I couldn't wind the thing off." I must not pass over another incident having reference to the topic in question. Under the biblical influence of those days my father's scholars built a temple of the Philistines, and when it was completed within and with out, all the children round about assembled, as did the Gazaites of old. The edifice was chiefly of boards, slen derly constructed, and reached the height of twelve feet ; nevertheless, all of us got upon it, according to the 16th chapter of Judges. The oldest of the scholars played Samson. When all was ready, he took hold of the pil lars of the temple, one with his right hand and one with 78 PETER PARLEY'S OWN STORY. his left. " Let me die with the Philistines !" said he, and bowing himself, down we came in a heap ! Strange to say, nobody but Samson was hurt, and he only in some skin bruises. If you could see him now dignified even to solemnity, and seldom condescending to any but the gravest matters you would scarcely believe the story, even though I write it and verify it. Neverthe less, if he must have played, he should have taken the part of Samson, for he is one of the most gifted men I have ever known. CHAPTEE VII. THE CLERGY OP FAIEFIELD A LAUGIIIXG PARSON TUB THREE DEACOHS. BEFORE I complete my narrative so far as it relates to Ridgefield, I should state that in the olden time a country minister's home was a ministers' tavern, and therefore I saw at our house, at different periods, most of the orthodox or Congregational clergymen belonging to that part of the State. My father frequently exchanged with those of the neighboring towns, and sometimes consocia tions and associations were held at Ridgefield. Thus, men of the clerical profession constituted a large portion of the strangers who visited us. I may add that my lineage was highly ministerial, from an early period down to my own time. The pulpit of Durham, filled by my paternal grandfather, continued in the same family one hundred and twenty-six consecutive years. A short time since we reckoned among our relations, not going beyond the degree of second cousin, more than a dozen ministers of the Gospel, and all of the same creed. As to the clergy of Fairfield county, my boyish im pressions of them were, that they were of the salt of the earth ; nor has a larger experience altered my opinion. If I sometimes indulge a smile at the recollection of particular traits of character, or more general points ot 80 PETER PARLEY'S manner significant of the age, I still regard them with affection and reverence. I need not tell you that they were counsellors in re ligious matters, in the dark and anxious periods of the spirit, in times of sickness, at the approach of death. They sanctified the wedding, not refusing afterward to countenance the festivity which naturally ensued. They* administered baptism, but only upon adults who made a profession, or upon the children of professors. I may add that, despite their divinity, they were sociable in their manners and intercourse. The state of the Church was no doubt first in their minds, but ample room was left for the good things of life. Those who came to our house examined my brother in his Greek and Latin, and I went out behind the barn to gather tansy for their morning bitters. They dearly loved a joke, and relished anecdotes, especially if they bore a little hard upon the cloth. The following will suffice as a specimen of the stories they delighted in. Once upon a time there was a clergyman the Rev. Dr. T , a man of high character, and distinguished for his dignity of manner. But it was remarked that frequently as he was ascending the pulpit stairs he would smile, and sometimes almost titter, as if beset by an un controllable desire to laugh. This excited remark, and at last scandal. Finally, it was thought necessary for some of his clerical friends, at a meeting of the As sociation, to bring up the matter for consideration. The case was stated, the Rev. Dr. T being present. " Well, gentlemen," said he, " the fact charged against me is true, but I beg you to permit me to offer an explana tion. A few months after I was licensed to preach I was in a country town, and on a Sabbath morning was about OWN STORY. 81 to enter upon the services of the church. At the back of the pulpit was a window, which looked out upon a field of clover, then in full bloom, for it was summer. As I rose to commence the reading of the Scriptures, I cast a glance into the field, and there I saw a man per forming the most extraordinary evolutions jumping, whirling, slapping in all directions, and with a ferocious agony of exertion. At first I thought he was mad ; but suddenly the truth burst upon me he had buttoned up a bumblebee in his pantaloons ! I am constitutionally nervous, gentlemen, and the shock of this scene upon my risible sensibilities was so great, that I could hardly get through the services. Several times I was upon the point of bursting into a laugh. Even to this day, the remem brance of this scene, through the temptation of the devil, often comes upon me as I am ascending the pulpit. This, I admit, is a weakness, but I trust it will rather excite your sympathy and your prayers than your re proaches." It may be amusing, perhaps profitable, to give here a few sketches of the remarkable characters of Ridgefield, at the opening of the present century. Some were types of their time ; others, however eccentric, were exemplifi cations of our race and our society, influenced by peculiar circumstances, and showing into what fashions this stuff of humanity may be wrought. They are still prominent in my recollection, and seem to me an essential part ol the social landscape which encircled my youth. I begin with the three deacons of my father's parish. First was Deacon Olmstead, full threescore years and ten at the opening of the present century. His infancy touched upon the verge of Puritanism the days of In crease and Cotton Mather. The spirit of the Puritans 82 PETEBPARLEY'S lived in his heart, while the semblance of the patriarchs lingered in his form. He was fully six feet high, with broad shoulders, powerful limbs, and the august step of a giant. His hair was white, and rolled in thin curls upon his shoulders ; he was still erect, though he carried a long cane, like that of father Abraham in the old pictures, representing him at the head of his kindred and his camels, going from the land of Haran to the land of Canaan. Indeed, he was my personification of the great progenitor of the Hebrews ; and when my father read from the twelfth chapter of Genesis, how he and Lot and their kindred journeyed forth, I half fancied it must be Deacon Olmstead under another name. Deacon Olmstead was in all things a noble specimen of humanity an honor to human nature, a shining light in the church. I have spoken of him as having some 1 - thing grand about him, yet I remember how kindly he condescended to take me, a child, on his knee, and how gently his great brawny fingers encircled my infant hand. I have said he was wise ; yet his book-learning was small, though it might have been as great as that of Abraham, or Isaac, or Jacob. He knew, indeed, the Bible by heart, and that is a great teacher. He had also lived long, and profited by observation and experience. Above all, he was calm, just, sincere, and it is wonderful how these lamps light up the path of life. I have said he was proud, yet it was only toward the seductions of the world : to these he was hard and stern : to his God he was simple, obedient, and docile as a child : toward his kindred and his neighbor, toward the poor, toward the suffering, though not so soft, he was sympathetic as a sister of charity. I must now present a somewhat different portrait !)KA(JOX U1.MSTEA1). J'. 74. OWN STORY. 83 that of Deacon John Benedict. He was a worthy old man, and enjoyed many claims to respect. He was not only a deacon, but a justice of the peace; moreover, he was the father of Aunt Delight, of whom I desire ever to speak with reverence. She, not being a beauty, was never married, and hence, having no children of her own, she combed and crammed the heads of other peo ple's children. In this way she was eminently useful in her day and generation. The Deacon respected the law, especially as it was administered in his own person. He was severe upon those who violated the statutes of the State, but one who violated the statutes of Deacon John Benedict committed the unpardonable sin. He was the entire police of the meeting-house on Sunday, and not a boy or girl, or eren a bumblebee, could ofiend without condign punishment. Nevertheless, the Deacon is said, in one case rather before my time to have met his match. There was in the village a small, smart, nervous woman, with a vigor ous clack, which, once set going, was hard to stop. One day she was at church, and having carried her dinner of mince-pie in a little cross-handled basket, she set it down under the seat. In the midst of sermon-time a small dog came into the pew, and getting behind her petti coats, began to devour the pie. She heard what was going on, and gave him a kick. Upon this the dog backed out with a yelp, taking with him the dinner- basket, hung about his neck, across the pew into the broad aisle. " Oh dear !" said the woman, in a shrill voice, " the dog's got my dinner ! There ! I've spoken loud in meeting-time ! What will Deacon Benedict say ? Why ! 84 PETER PARLEY-' 8 I'm talking all the time. There it goes agin ! What shall I du " " Hold your tongue !" said the Deacon, who was in his official seat, fronting the explosion. These words operated like a charm, and the nervous lady was silent. The next day Deacon John appeared at the house of the offender, carrying a calf-bound volume in his hand. The woman gave one glance at the book, and one at the Deacon. That was enough : it spoke volumes, and the man of the law returned home, and never mentioned the subject afterward. Deacon Hawley was very unlike either of his two asso ciates whom I have- described. He was younger, and of a peculiarly mild and amiable temper. His countenance wore a tranquil and smooth expression. His hair was fine and silky, and lay, as if oiled, close to his head. He had a soft voice, and an ear for music. He was a cabinet maker by trade, a chorister by choice, and a deacon by the vote of the church. In each of these things he found his place, as if designed for it by nature. In worldly affairs as well as spiritual, Deacon Hawley's path was straight and even : he was successful in busi ness, beloved in society, honored in the church. Exceed ingly frugal by habit and disposition, he still loved to give in charity, though he did not talk of it. When he was old, his family being well provided for, he spent much of his time in casting about to find opportunities of doing good. Once he learned that a widow, who had been in good circumstances, was struggling with poverty. He was afraid to offer money as charity, for fear of wounding her pride the more sensitive, perhaps, be cause of her change of condition. He therefore inti- OWN STORY. 85 mated that he owed a debt of fifty dollars to her late husband, and wished to pay it to her. " And how was that ? " said the lady, somewhat startled. " I will tell you," said the Deacon. " About five-and- twenty years ago, soon after you were married, I made some furniture for your husband to the amount of two hundred dollars. I have been looking over the account, and find that I rather overcharged him in the price of some chairs that is, I could have afforded them at somewhat less. I have added up the interest, and here, madam, is the money." The widow listened, and as she suspected the truth, the tears came to her eyes. The Deacon did not pause to reply, but laid the money on the table and de parted. The term deacon is associated in many minds with a sort of affectation, a cant in conversation, and an I-am- holier-than-thou air and manner. I remember Deacon C , who deemed it proper to become scriptural, and talk as much as possible like Isaiah. He was in partner ship with his son Laertes, and they sold crockery and furniture. One day a female customer came, and the old gentleman being engaged, went to call his son, who was in the loft above. Placing himself at the foot of the stairs, he said, attuning his voice to the occasion, " La-ar-tes, descend a lady waits !" Deacon C sought to signalize himself by a special respect to the ways of Providence ; so he refused to be insured against fire, declaring that if the Lord wished to burn down his house or his barn he should submit without a murmur. He pretended to consider thunder, and lightning, and conflagrations as special acts of the Almighty, and it was 86 PETER PARLEY'S OWN STORY. distrusting Providence to attempt to avert their effects. Deacon Hawley had none of these follies or frailties. Though a deacon, he was still a man ; though aspiring to heaven, he lived cheerily on earth ; though a Chris tian, he was a father, a neighbor, and, according to his rank in life, a gentleman, having in all things the feelings and manners appropriate to each of those rela tions. CHAPTEE VIII. MAT OLHSTEAD, THE TOWN WIT THE SALAMANDER HAT BOLAB EOLIMB THE OLD HEN AND THE PHILOSOPHER LIEUTENANT SMITH EXTRAOB- DINARY METEOB FULTON AND HIS STEAM-BOAT GBANTHKE BALDWIN AND HIS WIFE SAKAH BISHOP AND HEB OAVB. ANOTHER celebrity in Ridgefield, whom I must not forget, was Matthew Olmstead, or Mat Olmstead, as he was usually called ; he was a day laborer, and though his specialty was the laying of stone fences, he was equally adroit at hoeing corn, mowing, and farm-work in general. He was rather short and thick-set, with a long nose, a little bulbous in his latter days ; with a ruddy complex ion, and a mouth shutting like a pair of nippers, the lips having an oblique dip to the left, giving a keen and mis chievous expression to his face : qualified, however, by more of mirth than malice. This feature was indicative of his mind and character; for he was sharp in speech, and affected a crisp, biting brevity, called dry wit. He had also a turn for practical jokes, and a great many of these were told of him ; to which, perhaps, he had no historical claim. The following is one of them, and is illustrative of his manner, even if it originated elsewhere. On a cold, stormy day in December, a man chanced to come into the bar-room of Keeler's tavern, where Mat Olmstead and several of his companions were lounging. The stranger had on a new hat of the latest fashion, and 88 PETER PARLEY'S still sinning with the gloss of the iron. He seemed con scious of his dignity, and carried his head in such a man ner as to invite attention to it. Mat's knowing eye immediately detected the weakness of the stranger ; so he approached him, and said, " What a very nice hat you've got on ! Pray who made it f " " Oh, it came from New York," was the reply. " Well, let me take it," said Mat. The stranger took it off his head, gingerly, and handed it to him. " It is a wonderful nice hat," said Matthew ; " and I see it's a real salamander !" " Salamander ?" said the other. " What's that ?" " Why, a real salamander hat won't burn !" " No ? I never heard of that before : I don't believe it's one of that kind." " Sartain sure ; I'll bet you a mug of flip of it." "Well, I'll stand you!" . " Done : now I'll just put it under the fore-stick ?" " Well." It being thus arranged, Mat put the hat under the fore-stick into a glowing mass of coals. In an instant it took fire, collapsed, and rolled into a black, crumpled mass of cinders. " I du declare," said Mat Olmstead, affecting great as tonishment, " it ain't a salamander hat arter all ! Well, I'll pay the flip !" Yet wit is not always wisdom. Keen as this man was as to things immediately before him, he was of narrow understanding. He seemed not to possess the faculty of reasoning beyond his senses. He never would admit that the sun was fixed, and that the world turned round. OWNSTORY. 89 I remember, that when the great solar eclipse of 1806 was approaching, he with two other men were at work in one of onr fields, not far from the house. The eclipse was to begin at ten or eleven o'clock, and my father in vited the workmen to come up and observe it through some pieces of smoked glass. They came, though Mat ridiculed the idea of an eclipse not but the thing might happen ; but it was idle to suppose it could be foretold. While they were waiting and watching, my father ex plained the cause and nature of the phenomenon. Mat laughed with that low, scoffing chuckle, with which a woodcock, safe in his den, replies to the bark of a besieging dog. " So you don't believe this?" said my father. " No," said Mat, shaking his head ; " I don't believe a word of it. You say, Parson Goodrich, that the sun is fixed, and don't move ?" " Yes, I say so." "Well : didn't you preach last Sunday out of the 10th chapter of Joshua ?" " Yes." " And didn't you tell us that Joshua commanded the sun and moon to stand still ?" "Yes." " Well : what was the use of telling the sun to stand still if it never moved ?" This was a dead shot, especially at a parson, and in the presence of an audience inclined, from the fellow ship of ignorance, to receive the argument. Being thus successful, Mat went on, " Now, Parson Goodrich, let's try it again. If you turn a thing that's got water in it bottom up, the water '11 run out, won't it ?" 90 PETER PARLEY'S "No doubt." "If the world turns round, then, your well will be turned bottom up, and the water '11 run out !" At this point my father applied his eye to the sun, through a piece of smoked glass. The eclipse had be gun : a small piece was evidently cut off from the rim. My father stated the fact, and the company around look ed through the glass, and saw that it was so. Mat Olm- stead, however, sturdily refused to try it, and bore on his face an air of supreme contempt ; as much as to say " You don't humbug me !" But ignorance and denial of the works of God do not interrupt their march. By slow and invisible degrees, a shade crept over the landscape. There was no cloud in the sky ; but a chill stole through the atmosphere, and a strange dimness fell over the world. It was mid-day, yet it seemed like the approach of night. All nature seemed chilled and awed by the strange phenomenon. The birds, with startled looks and ominous notes, left their busy cares and gathered in the thick branches of the trees, where they seemed to hold counsel one with an other. The hens, with slow and hesitating steps, set their faces toward their roosts. One old hen, with a brood of chickens, walked along with a tall, halting tread, and sought shelter upon the barn-floor, where she gathered her young ones under her wings, continuing to made a low sound, as if saying, " Hush, my babes, lie still and slumber." I well remember this phenomenon the first of the kind I had ever witnessed. Though occupied by this seeming conflict of the heavenly bodies, I recollect to have paid some attention to the effect of the scene upon O WW STORY. 91 others. Mat Olmstead said not a word ; the other work men were overwhelmed with emotions of awe. At length, the eclipse began to pass away, and nature slowly returned to her equanimity. The birds came forth, and sang a jubilee, as if relieved from some im pending calamity. The hum of life again filled the air ; the old hen with her brood gaily resumed her rambles, and made the leaves and gravel fly with her invigorated scratchings. The workmen, too, having taken a glass of grog, returned thoughtfully to their labors. " After all," said one of the men, as they passed along to the field ; " I guess the parson was right about the sun and the moon." " Well, perhaps he was," said Mat ; " but then Joshua was wrong." This incident of the total eclipse was, many years later, turned to account in Parley's Magazine, in the following dialogue between Peter Parley and his children : Parley. Come, John, you promised to write some thing for this number of the Magazine ; is it ready ? John. Well * * * not exactly. Jane. Oh, Mr. Parley 'tis ready he read it all to me, and it's real good, if anybody could understand it. P. Bring it here, John. (John comes up gingerly, and gives Mr. Parley a piece of paper.) John. There 'tis but you mustn't read it aloud. All the children. Yes, yes, read it ! Read it ! Go ahead ! P. Well, I'll read it it looks pretty good. Now let all be perfectly still. (Parley reads.) 92 PETER JPARLEY'S PART I. KEFLECTIONS OK A HEN WITH CHICKENS DURING AN ECLIPSE OP THE BUK. " Craw * * * craw * * * craw ! What's the matter with ray eyes ? It looks very dark, for a clear summer's day. I must be getting old, for it ain't more than ten o'clock, and it seems exactly like sundown. Craw * * * craw * * * craw ! Why, it's getting cold. It seems as chill as evening. Cut, cut, cudawcut ! What can be the matter ? Why, the sun is going to bed before it's fairly got up. Cur r-r-r-r-r ! Well, after all, it may be only a fit of the vapors or my gizzard may be put out of order by that toad I ate yesterday. I thought, then, I should pay dear for it. Cur r-r-r-r-r ? Here chicks come under my wings ! I'm going to take a nap. Come along Nip, Dip, Pip, Kip come into your featherbed, my little dearies ! There ! Don't stick your noses out be still now I'm going to sing a song. Hush, my chickies don't you peep Hush, my children go to sleep 1 Now the night is dark and thick Go to sleep each little chick ! Fiddle-de-dee I can't sleep, and the chickens are as lively as bed-bugs. Cut cut cu daw cut! What on airth is the matter ! The sun has got put out, right up there in the sky, just like a candle. Well never did I see or hear of such a thing afore ! And now it's night O W N S"T O R Y . 93 in the middle of the day ! What will come next ? Why, I expect I shall walk on my head, and fly with my claws ! It ain't half fair, to shave an old hen and chick ens out of their dinner and supper in this way. How ever, it's too dark for decent people to be abroad. So, my chicks, we must get into the coop and go to rest. Cur r-r-r-r it's very queer indeed. How thankful I am that I don't make day and night, and get the world into such a scrape as this. Come in ! Come in, chicks ! It ain't our aft'air. Come along there you rowdies ! You ain't sleepy, and I don't wonder at it. But hens and chickens must go to bed when the lamp is put out. Cur r-r-r-r-r. PART II. REFLECTIONS OF A PHILOSOPHER UPON A BLADB OF GKA88. Here is a leaf, which we call a blade of grass. There are myriads like it in this field ; it seems a trifle; it seems insignificant. But let me look at it with mv glass. How wonderful is its texture ! It seems woven like net work, and nothing can exceed the beauty of its struc ture. And yet every blade of grass is like this. It ex ceeds all human art in the delicacy of its fabric, yet it grows here out of the ground. Grows! What does that mean? What makes it grow? Has it life 1 ? It must have life, or it could not grow. And what is that life? It cannot think; it cannot walk; who makes it grow then ? Who made this blade of grass ? It was not man ; it is not the beast of the field. It is God who made it! And is God here in the field, all around 94 PETEK BARLEY'S me in every blade of grass, in every leaf, and stem, and flower ? It must be so, indeed. How full of instruction is every thing around us, if we use the powers we possess! Moral. Some people believe, that birds and beasts have minds and souls as well as human beings ; but we see that the most stupendous wonder of nature excited in one of the most intelligent and civilized of birds, only a queer sort of surprise, expressed in the words cut cut cu dawcut ! At the same time it appears that a single blade of grass opens to the philosopher a sublime strain of thought, teaching the profound lesson that God is everywhere ! Is there not a gulf as wide as eternity, between the human soul and animal instinct ? All the children. Bravo, bravo John ! Parley. Well, John that'll do for a boy. I shan't insert it as my own, you know ; people will say, it's good for John Smith, only fourteen years old ; but for Peter Parley why, it's too ridiculous, altogether. At any rate John the moral is good and if people do laugh at the article, you just say to 'em keep your tongue be tween your teeth, till you do better, and you won't speak for a year! There's nothing like showing a proper spirit upon occasions of importance. To return to Mat Olmstead. Notwithstanding his habitual incredulity, he had still his weak side, for he was a firm believer in ghosts : not ghosts in general, but in two that he had seen himself. These were of enor mous size, white, and winged like angels. He had seen OWN STORY. 95 them one dark night as he was going to his house, which was situated in a lonesome lane that diverged from the high road. It was very late, and Mat had spent the evening at the tavern, like Tarn O'Shanter ; like him, he " was na fou, but just had plenty." Well, Mat Oln> stead's two angels turned out to be a couple of white geese, which he had startled into flight as he, stumbled upon them quietly snoozing in the joint of a rail fence ! It has often appeared to me that Mat Olmstead was a type, a representative of a class of men not very rare in this world of ours. It is not at all uncommon to find people, and those who are called strong-minded, who are habitual unbelievers in things possible and probable nay, in things well established by testimony while they readily become the dupes of the most absurd illusions and impositions. Dr. Johnson, it is stated, did not be lieve in the great earthquake of Lisbon in 1755, until six months after it had happened, while he readily accepted the egregious deception of the Cock Lane Ghost. In our day we see people, and sharp ones, too, who reject the plainest teachings of common sense, sanctioned by the good and wise of centuries, and follow with implicit faith some goose of the imagination, like Joe Smith or Brigham Young. These are Mat Olmsteads, a little in toxicated by their own imaginations, and in their night of ignorance and folly they fall down and worship the grossest and goosiest of illusions. I now turn to a different character, Lieutenant, or, as we all called him, Lef tenant Smith, who has been already introduced to you. He was a man of extensive reading and large information ; he was also some sixty years old", and had stored in his memory the results of his own ob servation and experience. He read tlie newspapers and 96 PETERPARLEY'S conversed with travellers, affected philosophy, and deemed himself the great intelligencer of the town : he dearly loved to dispense his learning, asking only in return at tentive listeners ; and he liked discussion, provided the talk was all left to himself. He was equal to all ques tions : with my father, he dilated upon such high matters as the purchase of Louisiana ; Lewis and Clarke's ex ploring expedition ; the death of Hamilton in the duel with Aaron Burr; the attack of the Leopard on the Chesapeake ; Fulton's attempts at steam navigation, and the other agitating topics of those times, as they came one after another. I have an impression now that Lieut. Smith, after all, was not very profound ; but to me he was a miracle of learning. I listened to his discussions with very little interest, but his narratives engaged my whole attention. These were always descriptive of actual events, for he would have disdained fiction : from them I derived a satisfaction that I never found in fables. The travels of Mungo Park, his strange adventures and melancholy death, which about those days transpired through the newspapers, and all of which Lieut. Smith had at his tongue's end, excited my interest and my imagination, even beyond the romances of Sinbad the Sailor and Robinson Crusoe. In the year 1807 an event occurred, not only startling in itself, but giving exercise to all the philosophical powers of Lieut. Smith. On the morning of the 14th of December, about daybreak, I had arisen, and was oc cupied in building a fire, this being my daily duty ; sud denly the room was filled with light, and, looking up, I saw through the window a ball of fire, nearly the size of the moon, passing across the heavens from north-west to OWN STORY. 97 south-east. It was at an immense height, and of intense brilliancy. Having passed the zenith, it swiftly descended toward the earth : while still at a great elevation it burst, with three successive explosions, into fiery fragments. The report was like three claps of rattling thunder iu quick succession. My father, who saw the light and heard the sounds, declared it to be a meteor of extraordinary magnitude. It was noticed all over the town, and caused great excite ment. On the following day the news came that huge fragments of stone had fallen in the adjacent town of Weston, some eight or ten miles south-east of Ridgefield. It appeared that the people in the neighborhood heard the rushing of the stones through the air, as well as the shock when they struck the earth. One, weighing two hundred pounds, fell on a rock, which it splintered ; its huge fragments ploughing up the ground around to the extent of a hundred feet. This meteor was estimated to be half-a-mile in diameter, and to have travelled through the heavens at the rate of two or three hundred miles a minute. On this extraordinary occasion the Lieutenant came to our house, according to his wont, and for several suc cessive evenings discoursed to us upon the subject. I must endeavor to give you a specimen of his perfor mances. " I have examined the subject, sir," said he, addressing my father, " and am inclined to the opinion that these phenomena are animals revolving in the orbits of space between the heavenly bodies. Occasionally, one of them comes too near the earth, and rushing through our atmos phere with immense velocity, takes fire and explodes !" " This is rather a new theory, is it not ?" said my 9 98 PETER PARLEY'S father. " It appears that these meteoric stones, in what ever country they fall, are composed of the same ingre dients : mostly silex, iron, and nickel : these substances would make rather a hard character, if endowed with animal life, and especially with the capacity of rushing through space at the rate of two or three hundred miles a minute, and then exploding ?" " These substances I consider only as the shell of the animal, sir." " You regard the creature as a huge shell-fish, then ?" " Not necessarily a fish ; for the whole order of nature, called Crustacea, has the bones on the outside. In this case of meteors, I suppose them to be covered with some softer substance ; for it frequently happens that a jelly- like matter comes down with meteoric stones. This resembles coagulated blood ; and thus what is called bloody rain or snow has often fallen over great spaces of country. Now, when the chemists analyze these things the stones, which I consider the bones ; and the jelly, which I consider the fat ; and the rain, which I consider the blood they find them all to consist of the same ele ments ; that is, silex, iron, nickel, &c. None but my animal theory will harmonise all these phenomena, sir." " But," interposed my father, " consider the enormous size of your aerial monsters. I recollect to have read only a short time since, that in the year 1803, about one o'clock in the afternoon, the inhabitants of several towns of Normandy, in France, heard noises in the sky, like the peals of cannon and musketry, with a long-continued roll of drums. Looking upward, they saw something like a small cloud at an immense elevation, which soon seemed to explode, sending its vapor in all directions. At last a hissing noise was heard, and then stones fell, spreading OWN STORY. 99 over a country three miles wide by eight miles long. No less than two thousand pieces were collected, weighing from one ounce to seventeen pounds. That must have been rather a large animal, eight miles long and three miles wide !" " What is that, sir, in comparison with the earth, which Kepler, the greatest philosopher that ever lived, conceived to be a huge beast ?" " Yes ; but did he prove it ?" "He gave good reasons for it, sir. He found very striking analogies between the earth and animal exis tences : such as the tides, indicating its breathing through vast internal lungs ; earthquakes, resembling eructations from the stomach ; and volcanoes, suggestive of boils, pimples, and other cutaneous eruptions." " I think I have seen your theory set to verse." Saying this, my father rose, and bringing a book, read as follows, " To mo things are not as to vulgar eyea I would all nature's works anatomize : This world a living monster seems to me, Eolling and sporting in the aerial sea : The soil encompasses her rocks and stones, As flesh in animals encircles bones. I see vast ocean, like a heart in play, Pant systole and diastole every day. The world's great lungs, monsoons and trade-winds show From east to west, from west to east they blow. The hills are pimples, which earth's face defile, And burning Etna an eruptive boil. On her high mountains living forests grow, And downy grass o'erspreads the vales below: From her vast body perspirations rise, Condense in clouds and float beneath the skies." 100 PETER PARLEY'S My father having closed the book, the profound Lieutenant, who did not conceive it possible that a thing eo serious could be made the subject of a joke, said, " A happy illustration of my philosophy, sir, though I cannot commend the form in which it is put. If a man has anything worth saying, sir, he should use prose. Poetry is only proper when one wishes to embellish folly or dignify trifles. In this case it is otherwise, I admit ; and I am happy to find so powerful a supporter of my animal theory of meteors. I shall consider the subject, and present it for the consideration of the philosophic world." One prominent characteristic of this philosopher was, that when a great event came about, he fancied that he had foreseen and predicted it from the beginning. Now, about this time Fulton actually succeeded in his long- sought application of steam to navigation. The general opinion of the country had been, all along, that he was a monomaniac, attempting an impossibility. He was the standing theme of cheap newspaper wit, and a God-send to orators who were hard run for a joke. Lieutenant Smith, who was only an echo of what passed around him during the period of Fulton's labors, joined in the cur rent contempt; but when the news came, in Octobei, 1807, that he had actually succeeded that one of his boats had steamed at the rate of five miles an hour against the current of the Hudson river then, still an echo of the public voice, did he greatly jubilate. " I told you so ! I told you so !" was his first exclama tion, as he entered the house, swelling with the account, " Well, and what is it ?" said my father. "Fulton has made his boat go, sir ! I told you how it OWN 8TORT. 101 would be, sir. It opens a new era in the history of navi gation. We shall go to Europe in ten days, sir." Now, you will readily understand, that in these sketches I do not pretend to report with literal precision the profound discourses of our Ridgefield savant ; I re member only the general outlines, the rest being easily suggested. My desire is to present the portrait of one of the notables of our village one whom I remember with pleasure, and whom I conceive to be a representa tive of the amiable, and perhaps useful race of fussy philosophers to be found in most country villages. From the town oracle I turn to the town miser. Granther Baldwin, as I remember him, was threescore years and ten perhaps a little more. He was a man of middle size, thin, wiry, and bloodless, and having his body bent forward at a sharp angle with his hips, while his head was thrown back over his shoulders, giving his person the general form of a reversed letter Z. His complexion was brown and stony ; his eye grey and twinkling, with a nose and chin almost meeting like a pair of forceps. His hair, standing out with an irritable friz, was of a rusty gray. He always walked and rode with restless rapidity. At church, he wriggled in his seat, tasted fennel, and bobbed his head up and down and around. He could not afford tobacco, so he chewed, with a constant activity, either an oak chip or the roots of ele campane, which was indigenous in the lane near his house. On Sundays he was decent in his attire, but on week-days he was a beggarly curiosity. It was said that he once ex changed hats with a scarecrow, and cheated scandalously in the bargain. His boots a withered wreck of an old pair of whitetops dangled over his shrunken calves, and a coat in tatters fluttered from his body. He rode a 9* 102 PETER PARLEY'S rat-tailed, ambling mare, which always went like the wind, shaking the old gentleman merrily from right to left, and making his bones, boots, and rags rustle like his own bush-harrow. Familiar as he was, the school-boys were never tired of him, and when he passed, "There goes Granther Baldwin !" was the invariable ejaculation. I must add, in order to complete the picture, that in contrast to his leanness and activity, his wife was very fat, and, either from indolence or lethargy, dozed away half her life in the chimney-corner. She spent a large part of her life in cheating her husband out of fourpence- ha'pennies, of which more than a peck were found secreted in an old chest at her death. It was the boast of this man that he had risen from poverty to wealth, and he loved to describe the process of his advancement. He always worked in the corn field till it was so dark that he could see his hoe strike fire. When in the heat of summer he was obliged occa sionally to let his cattle breathe, he sat on a sharp stone, lest he should rest too long. He paid half-a-dollar to the parson for marrying him, which he always regretted, as one of his neighbors got the job done for a pint of mustard-seed. On fast-days he made his cattle go with out food as well as himself. He systematically stooped to save a crooked pin or a rusty nail, as it would cost more to make it than to pick it up. Such were his boasts or at least, such were the things traditionally imputed to him. He was withal a man of keen faculties ; sagacious in the purchase of land, as well as in the rotation of crops. He was literally honest, and never cheated any one out of a farthing, according to his arithmetic, though he had sometimes an odd way of reckoning. It is said OWN STORT. 103 that in his day the law imposed a fine of one dollar for profane swearing. During this period, Granther Baldwin employed a carpenter who was notoriously addicted to this vice. Granther kept a strict account of every in stance of transgression, and when the job was done, and the time came to settle the account, he said to the carpenter, "You've worked with me thirty days, I think, Mr. Kellogg?" " Yes, Granther," was the reply. "At a dollar a-day: that makes thirty dollars, I think ?" "Yes, Granther." " Mr. Kellogg, I am sorry to observe that you have a very bad habit of taking the Lord's name in vain." " Yes, Granther." " Well, you know that's agin the law." "Yes, Granther." " And there's a fine of one dollar for each offence." " Yes, Granther." " Well here's the account I've kept, and I find you've broken the law twenty-five times ; that is, sixteen times in April, and nine in May. At a dollar a time, that makes twenty-five dollars don't it ?" "Yes, Granther." " So, then, twenty-five from thirty leaves five ; it ap pears, therefore, that there is a balance of five dollars due to you. How'll you take it, Mr. Kellogg ? In cash, or in my way say in 'tatera, pork, and other things ?" At this point the carpenter's brow lowered, but with a prodigious effort at composure he replied, u Well, Granther, you may keep the five dollars, and I'll take it out in my way that is, in swearing !" 104 PETER PARLEY'S Upon this he hurled at the old gentleman a volley of oaths, too numerous and too profane to repeat. One sketch more, and my gallery of eccentricities is finished. Men hermits have been frequently heard of, but a woman hermit is of rare occurrence. Neverthe less, Ridgefield could boast of one of these among its curiosities. Sarah Bishop was, at the period of my boy hood, a thin, ghostly old woman, bent and wrinkled, but still possessing a good deal of activity. She lived in a cave, formed by nature, in a mass of projecting rocks that overhung a deep valley or gorge in West Mountain, about four miles from our house. The rock, bare and desolate, was her home, except that occasionally she strayed to the neighborhood villages; seldom being absent more than one or two days at a time. She never begged, but received such articles as were given to her. She was of a highly religious turn of mind, and at long intervals came to our church, and par took of the sacrament. She sometimes visited our family the only one thus favored in the town and occa sionally remained overnight. She never would eat with us at the table, nor engage in general conversation. Upon her early history she was invariably silent ; indeed, she spoke of her affairs with great reluctance. She neither seemed to have sympathy for others, nor to ask it in return. If there was any exception, it was only in respect to the religious exercises of the family : she listened intently to the reading of the Bible, and joined with ap parent devotion in the morning and evening prayer. My excursions frequently brought me within the wild precincts of her solitary den. Several times I have paid a visit to the spot, and in two instances found her at home. A place more desolate, in its general outline, OWN STOKY. 105 more absolutely given up to the wildness of nature, it is impossible to conceive. Her cave was a hollow in the rock, about six feet square. Except a few rags and an old basin, it was without furniture ; her bed being the floor of the cave, and her pillow a projecting point of the rock. It was entered by a natural door about three feet wide and four feet high, and was closed in severe weather only by pieces of bark. At a distance of a few feet was a cleft, where she kept a supply of roots and nuts, which she gathered, and the food that was given her. She was reputed to have a secret depository, where she kept a quantity of antique dresses ; several of them of rich silks, and apparently suited to fashionable life : though I think this was an exaggeration. At a little distance down the ledge there was a fine spring of water, near which she was often found in fair weather. There was no attempt, either in or around the spot, to bestow upon it an air of convenience or comfort. A small space of cleared ground was occupied by a few thriftless peachtrees, and in summer a patch of starveling beans, cucumbers, and potatoes. Up two or three of the adjacent forest-trees there clambered luxuriant grape vines, highly productive in their season. With the ex ception of these feeble marks of cultivation, all was left ghastly and savage as nature made it. The trees, stand ing upon the tops of the cliff, and exposed to the shock of the tempest, were bent and stooping towards the valley : their limbs contorted, and their roots clinging, as with an agonized grasp, into the rifts of the rocks upon which they stood. Many of them were hoary with age, and hollow with decay ; others were stripped of their leaves by the blasts ; and others still, grooved and splintered by the lightning. The valley below, enriched with the decay 106 PETER PARLEY'S of centuries, and fed with moisture from the surrounding hills, was a wild paradise of towering oaks, and other giants of the vegetable kingdom, with a rank under growth of tangled shrubs. In the distance, to the east, the gathered streams spread out into a beautiful expanse of water called Long Pond. A place at once so secluded and so wild was, of course, the chosen haunt of birds, beasts and reptiles. The eagle built her nest and reared her young in the clefts of the rocks ; foxes found shelter in the caverns ; and serpents revelled alike in the dry hollows of the cliffs and the dark recesses of the valley. The hermitess had made companionship with these brute tenants of the wood. The birds had become so familiar with her, that they seemed to heed her almost as little as if she had been a stone. The fox fearlessly pursued his hunt and his gambols in her presence. The rattlesnake hushed his monitory signal as he approached her. Such things, at least, were enter tained by the popular belief. It was said, indeed, that she had domesticated a particular rattlesnake, and that he paid her daily visits. She was accustomed so said the legend to bring him milk from the villages, which he devoured with great relish. It will not surprise you that a subject like this should have given rise to one of my first poetical efforts ; the first verses, in fact, that I ever published. I gave them to Brainard, then editor of the Mirror, at Hartford ; and he inserted them, probably about the year 1823. The facts in respect to this Nun of the Mountain were, indeed, strange enough, without any embellishment of fancy. During the winter she was confined for several months to her cell. At that period she lived upon roots and nuts, which she had laid in for the season. She had OWN STORY. 107 no fire ; and, deserted even by her brute companions, she was absolutely alone. She appeared to have no sense of solitude, no weariness at the slow lapse of days and months. When spring returned, she came down from her mountain a mere shadow ; each year her form more bent, her limbs more thin and wasted, her hair more blanched, her eye more colorless. At last, life seemed ebbing away, like the faint light of a lamp sinking into the socket. The final winter came ; it passed, and she was not seen in the villages around. Some of the in habitants went to the mountain, and found her standing erect, her feet sunk in the frozen marsh of the valley. In this situation, being unable to extricate herself, she had yielded her breath to Him who gave it ! The early history of this strange personage was in volved in some mystery. So much as this, however, was ascertained, that she was of good family, and lived on Long Island. During the Revolutionary war, in one of the numerous forays of the British soldiers, her father's house was burned, and she was infamously treated. Desolate in fortune, blighted at heart, she fled from luman society, and for a long time concealed her sor- ows in the cavern which she had accidentally found, ler grief softened by time, perhaps alleviated by a veil f insanity was at length so far mitigated, that, although he did not seek human society, she could endure it. he continued to occupy her cave till the year 1810 or 811, when she departed in the manner I have described ; . id we may hope, for a brighter and happier existence. CHAPTEK IX. FABEWKLL TO HOME DANBUKY MY NEW VOCATION MY BROTIJEB-IN-LAW HIS CONVERSATIONS WITH LAWTBK HATCH CLEBIOAL ANECDOTES. IN the autumn of the year 1808, a sudden change took place in my prospects. My eldest sister had married a gentleman by the name of Cooke, in the adjacent town of Danbury. He was a tradesman, and being in want of a clerk, offered me the place. It was considered a de sirable situation by my parents, and, overlooking my me chanical aptitudes, they accepted it at once, and at the age of fifteen I found myself installed in a country store. This arrangement gratified my love of change ; and at the same time, as Danbury was a much more consider able town than Ridgefield, going to live there naturally suggested the idea of advancement, especially as I was to exchange my uncertain prospects for a positive profes sion. However, I little comprehended what it meant to say, " Farewell to home :" I have since learned its sig nificance. In thus bidding adieu to the paternal roof, we part with youth for ever. We part with the spring tide of life, which strews every path with flowers, fills the air with poetry, and the heart with rejoicing. We part with that genial spirit which endows familiar objects brooks, lawns, play-grounds, hill-sides with its own sweet illusions ; we bid adieu to this and its fairy com panionships. Even if, in after life, wo return to the PETER PARLEY'S OWN STORY. 109 scenes of our childhood, they have lost the bloom of youth, and in its place we see the wrinkles of that age which has graven its hard lines upon our hearts. Farewell to home implies something even yet more serious : we relinquish, and often with exultation, the tender care of parents, in order to take upon ourselves the responsibilities of independence. What seeming in fatuation it is, that renders us thus impatient of the guidance of those who gave us being, and makes us at the same time anxious to spread our untried sails upon an untried sea, to go upon a voyage which involves all the chances, evil as well as good, of existence ! And yet it is not infatuation it is instinct. We cannot always be young ; we cannot all remain under the paternal roof. The old birds push the young ones from the nest, and force them to a trial of their wings. It is the system of nature that impels us to go forth and try our fortunes, and it is a kind Providence, after all, which endues us with courage for the outset of our uncertain career. I was not long in discovering that my new vocation was very different from what I had expected, and very different from my accustomed way of life. My habits had been active, my employments chiefly in the open air. I was accustomed to be frequently on horseback, and to make excursions to the neighboring towns. I had also enjoyed much personal liberty, which I failed not to use in rambling over the fields and forests. All this was now changed. My duties lay exclusively in the store, and this seemed now my prison. From morning to night I remained there, and, as our business was not large, I had many hours upon my hands with nothing to do but to consider the weariness of my situation. My brother-in-law was always present, and being a man of 110 PETER PARLEY'S severe aspect and watchful eyes, I felt a sort of restraint, which, for a time, was agonizing. I had, consequently, pretty sharp attacks of homesickness ; a disease which, though not dangerous, is one of the most distressing to which suffering humanity is exposed. This state of misery continued for some weeks, during which time I revolved various plans of escape from my confinement : such as stealing away at night, making my way to Norwalk, getting on board a sloop, and going as cabin-boy to the West Indies. I believe that a small impulse would have set me upon some such mad expedi tion. By degrees, however, I became habituated to my occupation, and as my situation was eligible in other re spects, I found myself ere long reconciled to it. The father and mother of my brother-in-law were aged people, living with him in the same house, and as one family. They were persons of great amiability and ex cellence of character : the former, Colonel Cooke, was eighty years of age, but he had still the perfect exercise of his faculties, and though he had ceased all business, he was cheerful, and took a lively interest in passing events. Never have I seen a more pleasing spectacle than this reverend couple, at the age of fourscore, both smoking their pipes in the evening, with two generations of their descendants around them. My brother-in-law was a man of decided character, and his portrait deserves a place in these annals. He had graduated at Yale College, and had been qualified for the bar ; but his health was feeble, and therefore, chiefly for occupation, he succeeded to the store which his father had kept before him. Being in easy circum stances, he made no great efforts in business. Though, as I have said, he was of stern aspect, and his manners OWN STORY. Ill were somewhat cold and distant, his character was that of a just and kind man. In business he treated people respectfully, but he never solicited custom : he showed, but never recommended his goods. If his advice were asked, he offered it without regard to his own interest He gave me no instructions, but left me to the influence of his example. He was of a religious turn of mind, not merely performing the accustomed duties of a Christian, but making devotional books a large part of his study. Perhaps he was conscious of failing health, and already heard the monitory voice of that disease which was ere long to terminate his career. Nevertheless, he was not insensible to the pleasures of cultivated society, and however grave he might be in his general air and manner, he was particularly gratified with the visits of a man, in all things his opposite, Moses Hatch, then a leading lawyer in Danbury. This person was a frequent visitor to the store, and the long winter which commenced soon after I entered upon my apprenticeship was not a little enlivened by his con versations with my master. It frequently happened dur ing the deep snows, that the day passed without a single customer, and on these occasions Lawyer Hatch was pretty sure to pay us a visit. It was curious to see these two men, so opposite in character, attracted to each other as if by contradiction. My brother-in-law evidently found a pleasant relaxation in the conversation of his neighbor, embellished with elegant wit and varied learn ing, while the latter derived equal gratification from the serious, manly intellect of his friend. In general the former was the talker, and the latter the listener ; yet sometimes the conversation became discussion, and a teen trial of wit versus logic ensued. The lawyer al- 112 PETER PARLEY'S ways contended for victory ; my brother-in-law for the truth. The precise form of these conversations has vanished from my mind, but some of the topics remain. I recol lect long talks about the embargo, non-intercourse, and other Jeffersonian measures, which were treated with un sparing ridicule and reproach ; anecdotes and incidents of Napoleon, who excited mingled admiration and terror ; with observations upon public men, as well in Europe as America. I remember also a very keen discussion upon Berkeley's theory of the ideality of nature, mental and material, which so far excited my curiosity, that, finding the " Minute Philosopher" by that author, in the family library, I read it through with great interest and atten tion. The frequent references to Shakespeare in these conversations led me to look into his works, and, incited by the recommendations of my sister, I read them through, somewhat doggedly, seeking even to penetrate the more difficult and obscure passages. It frequently happened that my master, owing to the influence of disease, was affected with depression of spirits ; and the lawyer's best wit and choicest stones were expended without even exciting a smile. Not dis couraged, but rather stimulated by such adversity, he usually went on, and was pretty sure at last to strike the vein, as Moses did the water in the rock, and a gush of uncontrollable laughter was the result. I remember in one instance, Mr. Cooke sat for a long time, looking moodily into the fire, while Squire Hatch went on telling stories, chiefly about clergymen, of which he had a great assortment. I will endeavor to give you a sketch of the scene. " I know not why it is so," said the lawyer ; " but the OWN 8TO BY. 113 fact is undeniable, that the most amusing anecdotes are about clergymen. The reason perhaps is, that incongruity is the source of humorous associations ; and this is evi dently the most frequent and striking in a profession which sets apart its members as above the mass of man kind, in a certain gravity of character and demeanor, of which the black coat is the emblem. A spot upon this strikes every eye, while a brown coat, being the color of dirt, hides rather than reveals what is upon its surface. Thus it is, as we all know, that what would be insipid as coming from a layman, is very laughable if it happens to a parson. I have heard that on a certain occasion, as the Rev. J M was about to read a hymn, he saw a little boy sitting behind the chorister in the gallery, who had intensely red hair. The day was cold, and the little rogue was pretending to warm his hands by holding them close to the chorister's head. This so disconcerted the minister, that it was some minutes before he could go on with the services." The only effect of this was, that my master drew down one corner of his mouth. " I have heard of another clergyman," said the lawyer, " who suffered in a similar way. One day, in the very midst of his sermon, he saw Deacon B fast asleep, his head leaning back on the rail of the pew, and his mouth wide open. ^. young fellow in the gallery above, directly over him, took a quid of tobacco from his mouth, and taking a careful aim, let it drop plump into the dea con's mouth. The latter started from his sleep, and went through a terrible paroxysm of fright and choking before he recovered." Mr. Cooke bit his lip, but was silent. Lawyer Hatch, although he pretended to be all the while looking into o* 114 PETER PARLEY'S the fire, got a quick side-glance at the face of his auditor, and continued, " You know the Rev. Dr. B , sir ? Well, one day he told me, that as he was on his way to New Haven he came to the house of one of his former parishioners, who, some years before, had removed to that place. As he was about to pass it, he remembered that this person had died recently, and he thought it meet and proper to stop and condole with the widow. She met him very cheer fully, and they had some pleasant chat together. " ' Madam,' said he, after a time, ' it is a painful sub ject but you have recently met with a severe loss.' "She instantly applied her apron to her eyes, and said, " Oh yes, doctor ; there's no telling how I feel.' " ' It is indeed a great bereavement you have suffered.' " * Yes, doctor ; very great, indeed.' " * I hope you bear it with submission ?' " * I try tu ; but oh, doctor, I sometimes feel in my heart Goosy, goosy gander, where shall I wander?'" The lawyer glanced at the object of his attack, and seeming to see a small breach in the wall, he thought it time to bring up his heavy guns. He went on, " There's another story about this same Dr. B , which is amusing. Some years ago he lost his wife, and after a time he began to look out for another. At last he fixed his mind upon a respectable lady in a neighbor ing town, and commenced paying her his addresses. This naturally absorbed much of his time and attention, and his parish became dissatisfied. The deacons of the church held several conferences on the subject, and it was finally agreed that Deacon Becket, who had the grace of smooth speech, should give the Reverend Doctor OWN STORY . 115 a Lint of what they deemed his fearful backsliding. Ac cordingly, the next Sabbath morning, on going to church, the deacon overtook the parson, and the following dia logue ensued, " ' Good morning, Dr. B .' " ' Good morning, Deacon Becket.' " ' Well, Doctor, I'm glad to meet you ; for I wanted to say to you as how I thought of changing my pew !' " ' Indeed ! And why so ?' " ' Well, I'll tell you. I sit, as you know, clear over the backside of the meeting-house ; and between me and the pulpit there's Judy Vickar, Molly Warren, Experi ence Pettibone, and half-a-dozen old maids, who sit with their mouths wide open, and they catch all the best of your sarmon ; and when it gets to me, it's plaguy poor stuff !' " My brother-in-law could hold out no longer : his face was agitated for a moment with nervous spasms ; and then, bending forward, he burst into a round, hearty laugh. The lawyer who made it a point never to smile at his own jokes still had a look upon his face as much as to say, " Well, sir, I thought I should get my case." It may be easily imagined that I was greatly interested by these conversations and discussions ; and always felt not a little annoyed, if perchance, as sometimes hap pened, I was called away in the midst of a good story, or a keen debate, to supply a customer with a gallon of treacle, or a paper of pins. I know not if this disgusted me with my trade ; but it is very certain that I con ceived for it a great dislike, nearly from the beginning. Never, so far as I can recollect, did I for one moment enter heartily into its spirit. I was always, while I con- tinued in it, a mere servile laborer ; doing my duty, per- 116 PETER PARLEY'S OWN STORY. haps, yet with a languid and reluctant heart. However, I got through the winter; and when the summer came, Mr. Cooke nearly gave up personal attention to business in consequence of ill health ; and we had a new clerk, who was older than myself, and took the responsible charge of the establishment. He was an excellent mer chant, and to me was a kind and indulgent friend. He afterwards settled in Troy, where he is still living, in the enjoyment of an ample fortune, and in excellent reputa tion as a father, friend, Christian, and neighbor; the natural fruit of good sense, good temper, and good con duct. CHAPTEK X. jntW HAVEN DISTINGUISHED MEN WHITNEY'S COTTON-GIN DURHAM 1ft GRANDMOTHER'S INDIAN PUDDINGS IN SEARCH OF A DOCTOR RETURN TO DANBURY THE COLD FRIDAY FACTORY WORKMEN MATHEMATICS. IN the summer of 1809 I made a short tour with my brother-in-law and my sister, for the health of the former. This, to me, was a grand expedition ; for among other places we visited was New Haven, then a sort of Jerusa lem in my imagination ; a holy place containing Yale College, of which Dr. Dwight was president. Besides all this, one of my uncles and some of my cousins lived there ; and, better still, my brother was there, and then a member of the college. Ah, how my heart beat when we set out ! Such was the vividness of my perceptions, that I could fill a book with recollections of that short, simple journey ; the whole circuit not exceeding one hundred and twenty miles. I was duly impressed with the beauty of New Haven ; for then, as now, it was celebrated for a rare union of rural freshness and city elegance. I have recently, in passing through it, had a transient view of its appear ance ; and may safely affirm that, after pretty large ob servation in the Old World as well as in the New, I know of no town or city more inviting ; especially to one whose judgment is cultivated by observation and study, and whose feelings are chastened by reflection and 118 PETER PARLEY'S experience. There is something of the activity and bustle of commerce in a part of the town, and at one point, all the spasm of a railway station. In other por tions of the place, and over three-fourths of its area, there is the quietude and repose proper to a seat of learn ing. Here the houses seem suited to the city, each with a garden breathing the perfumes of the country. At the period of the visit I am describing, New Haven had not one-half its present population; and many of the institutions which now adorn it did not exist. The College, however, was then as now, a leading literary insti tution in the country. To me it was an object of special reverence, as my grandfather and his five sons had all graduated there. My brother and two of my cousins were at this time among its inmates. Of course, I look ed with intense curiosity at the several buildings that be longed to it. Many things here excited my admiration. I looked with particular interest I may add, with some degree of envy at the students, who seemed to me the privileged sons of the earth. Several were pointed out as promising to be the master-spirits of their age and generation ; in some cases, I have since seen these antici pations fulfilled. Next to the College I visited the Bay, and for the first time actually stood upon the shore of that living sea which, through my whole childhood, had spread its blue bosom before me in the distant horizon. A party of three or four of us took a boat, and went down toward the entrance of the Bay, landing on the eastern side. From this point the view was enchanting ; it was a soft summer afternoon, and the sea only breathed upon by light puffs of wind that came from the west. I looked long, and with a species of entrancement, at its heaving FIRST ADVEXTVKK ON II IK SKA. P. 110. OWN STORY. 119 and swelling surface : I ran my eye far away, till it met the line where sky and wave are blended together : I fol lowed the lulling surf as it broke, curling and winding, among the mimic bays of the rocky shore. It was a spectacle, not only full of beauty in itself, but to me it was a revelation and a fulfilment of the thousand half- formed fancies which had been struggling in my longing bosom from very childhood. Our party was so occupied with our contemplations, that we had scarcely noticed a thunder-storm, which now approached and menaced us from the west. We set out to return, but before we had got half across the Bay it broke full upon us. The change in the aspect of the sea was fearful : all its gentleness was gone ; and now, black and scowling, it seemed as if agitated by a demon, threatening everything with destruction that came within its scope. By ( a severe struggle we succeeded in reach ing Long Walk, though not without risk. While staying at New Haven, I met many distinguish ed men ; as the house of my uncle, Elizur Goodrich, was frequented by all th'e celebrities of the place. Among these was Eli Whitney, the inventor of the cotton-gin, a machine for combing out the seeds from the cotton in its raw state, to which America may almost be said to owe her cotton trade. Whitney's first gin was made in 1793, at which time almost the whole of our raw material was imported. The results of his invention may be estimated by the fact, that while in 1789 only one million pounds of cotton were produced in the United States, the pro duct of the year 1855 exceeded fourteen hundred mil lions ! We saw the original model of Mr. Whitney's gin at his gun-factory, which was situated in a wild, romantic 120 I PETER PARLEY'S spot, near the foot of East Rock, and about two miles distant from New Haven. Having spent about a week at New Haven, we pro ceeded to Durham, an old-fashioned, sleepy town, of a thousand inhabitants. It is chiefly remarkable for the distinguished men it has produced the Chaunceys, cele brated in the annals of New England, and, I may add, in those of the country at large ; the Wadsworths, no less noted in various commanding stations, military and civil, public and private ; the Lymans, renowned in the battle field, the college, the pulpit, and the senate ; the Austins father and son to whose talent and enterprise Texas owes her position as a member of the Union. To this list of remarkable names, I trust I may add that of the Goodriches, without the imputation of egotism, for historical justice demands it. At the time I visited the place, nearly all the family had long since left it. My grandfather, Dr. Goodrich, died in 1797, but my grandmother was living, as well as her daughter, Mrs. Smith, wife of Rev. David Smith, the clergyman of the place, who had succeeded to my grandfather's pulpit. I trust I have all due respect for my paternal grand mother, who has already, by the way, been introduced to your notice. She was now quite lame, but active, energetic, and alive to everything that was passing. She welcomed me heartily, and took the best care of me in the world, lavishing upon me, without stint, all the treasures of her abundant larder. As to her Indian puddings alas, I shall never see their like again ! A comfortable old body she was in all things, and, as I have before remarked, took a special interest in the welfare of the generation of descendants rising up around her. OWN STOKT. 121 When she saw me eating with a good appetite, her benignant grandmotherly face beamed like a lantern. As to my uncle and aunt Smitb, I may remark that they were plain, pious people, the former worthily filling the pulpit of my grandfather, and enjoying a high degree of respect, alike from his position and character. Besides attending to his parochial duties, he prepared young men for college. Among his pupils were several persons who attained distinction. As a man, he was distinguished for his cheerful, frank, friendly manners: as a preacher, he was practical, sincere, and successful. I must mention a story of him, among my pulpit anecdotes. As some times happens, in a congregation of farmers during mid summer, it once chanced that a large number of his peo ple, even the deacons in the sacramental seat, fell asleep in the very midst of the sermon. The minister looked around, and just at this moment, the only person who seemed quite awake was his eldest son, David, sitting in the pew by the side of the pulpit. Pausing a moment, and looking down upon his son, he exclaimed, in a powerful voice : " David, wake up !" In a moment the whole congregation roused them selves, and long did they remember the rebuke. During our stay at Durham, my brother-in-law was so ill as to need the advice of a skilful physician. Accord ingly, I was dispatched on horseback to Middletown, a distance of eight or ten miles, for Dr. O , then famous in all the country round about. On my way I met a man of weatherbeaten complexion and threadbare garments, mounted on a lean and jaded mare. Beneath him was a pair of plump saddlebags. He had all the marks of a doctor, for then men of his profession traversed 122 PETER PARLEY'S the country on horseback, carrying with them a collection of pills, powders, and elixirs, equivalent to an apothe cary's shop. Instinct told me that he was my man. As I was about to pass him I drew in my breath, to ask if he were Dr. O , but a sudden bashfulness seized me : the propitious moment passed, and I went on. On arriving at the house of Dr. O , I learned that he had gone to the village in the south-western part of the town, six or eight miles off. " There !" said I to myself, " I knew it was he : if I had only spoken to him !" However, reflection was vain. I followed to the designated spot, and there I found that he had left about half an hour before, for another village in the central part of the town. I gave chase, but he was too quick for me, so that I was obliged to return to Durham with out him. " Ah !" I thought, " how much trouble a little courage would have saved me "' In fact, 'I took the incident to heart, and have often practised to advantage upon the lesson it suggested ; which is, Never to let a doctor, or anything else, slip, for the want of asking an opportune question. At length we departed from Durham, and took our way homeward, through a series of small towns, arriving at last at Woodbury. The week of our sojourn here flew on golden wings with me. The village itself was after my own heart. It lies in a small tranquil valley, its western boundary consisting of a succession of gentle acclivities, covered with forests; that on the east is formed of basaltic ledges, broken into wild and pictur esque forms, rising sharp and hard against the horizon. Through the valley, in long serpentine sweeps, flows a stream, clear and bright, now dashing and now saunter ing ; here presenting a rapid, and there a glassy pool. OWN STORY. 123 In ancient times it was bordered by cities of the beaver ; it was now the haunt of a few isolated and persecuted muskrats. In the spring and autumn, the wild ducks, in their migrations, often stooped to its bosom for a night's lodging. At all seasons it was renowned for its trout. In former ages, when the rivers, protected by the deep forests, ran full to the brim, and when the larger streams were filled to repletion with shad and salmon, this was sometimes visited by enterprising individuals of their race, which shot up cataracts, and leaped over obstruct ing rocks, roots, and mounds, impelled by instinct to seek places remote from the sea, where they might deposit their spawn in safety. In those days, I imagine, the accidents and incidents of shad and salmon life often rivalled the adventurous annals of Marco Polo or Robin son Crusoe. There was about this little village a singular union of refinement and rusticity, of cultivated plain and steepling rock, of blooming meadow and dusky forest. The long, wide street, saving the highway and a few stray paths here and there, was a bright, grassy lawn, decorated with abun dance of sugar-maples, which appeared to have found their Paradise. Such is the shape of the encircling hills and ledges that the site of the village seemed a sort of secluded Happy Valley, where everything turns to poetry and romance. And this aptitude is abundantly encour aged by history ; for here was once the favored home of a tribe of Indians. All around the rivers, the hills, the forests are still rife with legends and remembrances of the olden time. A rocky mound, rising above the river on one side, and dark forests on the other, bears the name of " Pomperaug's Castle ;" a little to the north, near a bridle-path that traversed the meadows, was a 124 PETER PARLEY'S heap of stones, called " Pomperaug's Grave." To the east I found a wild ledge, called " Bethel Rock." And each of these objects has its story. It was a great time, that happy week for let it be re membered that for a whole year I had been imprisoned in a country store. What melody was there in the forest echoes then ! Ah ! I have since heard Catalani, and Garcia, and Pasta, and Sontag, and Grisi ; I have even heard " the Swedish Nightingale ;" nay, in France and Italy the very home of music and song I have listened to the true nightingale, which has given to Jenny Liiid her sweetest and most appropriate epithet ; but never, in one or all, have I heard such music as filled my ears that incense-breathing morn, when I made a foray into the wilds of Woodbury ! We returned to Danbury after a tour of some five or six weeks. The succeeding autumn and winter presented no peculiar incident with a single exception. There was, if I rightly remember, in the month of February, a certain " cold Friday," which passed down to succeeding generations as among the marvels of the time. It had snowed heavily for three days, and the ground was covered three feet deep. A driving wind from the north east then set in, and growing colder and colder, it be came at last so severe as to force everybody to shelter. This continued for two days, the whole air being filled with sleet, so that the sun, without a cloud in the sky, shone dim and grey as through a fog. The third day the wind increased, both in force and intensity of cold. Horses, cattle, fowls, sheep, perished in their coverings. The roads were blocked up with enormous drifts ; the mails were stopped, travelling was suspended ; the world, TUB COLD FRIDAY. P. 116. OWN 8TORT. 125 indeed, seemed paralyzed, and the circulation of life to be arrested. On the morning of this third day, which was the ominous and famous Friday, word was brought to my sister that a poor family, about two miles off, to whom she had long been a kind friend, was in danger of starva tion. She knew no fear, and tolerated no weakness. A thing that ought to be done, was to be done. Therefore, a sack was filled with bread, meat, candles, and a pint of rum : this was lashed around my waist. The horse was brought to the door I mounted and set off. I knew the animal well, and we had enjoyed many a scamper together. He was, indeed, after my own heart clean limbed, with full, knowing eyes, and small, point ed sensitive ears. He had a cheerful walk, a fleet, skim ming trot, a swift gallop, and all these paces we had often tried. I think he knew who was on his. back ; but when we got to the turning of the road, which brought his nostrils into the very tunnel of the gale, he snorted, whirled backward, and seemed resolved to return. I, however, brought him steady to his work, gave him sharp advice in the ribs, and showed him that I was re solved to be master. Hesitating a moment, as if in loubt whether I could be in earnest, he started forward ; 7et so keen was the blast, that he turned aside his head, ind screamed as if his nostrils were pierced with hot ron. On he went, however, in some instances up to the addle in the drift, yet clearing it at full bounds. In a few minutes we were at the door of the miserable iut, now half buried in a snow-drift. I was just in time. Tie wretched inmates a mother and three small chil- .ren without fire, without food, without help or hope, 'ere in bed, poorly clothed, and only keeping life in 126 PETER PARLEY'S their bodies by a mutual cherishing of warmth, like pigs or puppies in a similar extremity. The scene within was dismal in the extreme. The fireplace was choked with snow, which had fallen down the chimney : the ill-ad justed doors and windows admitted alike the drift and the blast, both of which swept across the room in cutting currents. As I entered, the pale, haggard mother com prehend at a glance that relief had come, burst into a flood of tears. I had no time for words. I threw them the sack, remounted my horse, and, the wind at my back, I flew home. One of my ears was a little frost-bitten, and occasionally, for years after, a tingling and itching sensation there reminded me of my ride ; which, after all, left an agreeable remembrance upon my mind. Danbury is a handsome town, chiefly built on a long, wide street, crossed near the northern extremity by a small river, a branch of the Housatonic, which, having numerous rapids, affords abundance of mill-sites in its course. At this crossing there were two extensive hat- factories, famous over the whole country. Nearly all the workmen in these establishments, of whom there were several hundred at the time I am de scribing, were foreigners, mostly English and Irish. A large part of the business of our store was the furnishing of rum to these poor wretches, who bought one or two quarts on Saturday night and drank till Monday, and frequently till Tuesday. A factory -workman of those days was thought to be born to toil, and to get drunk. Philanthropy itself had not then lifted its eye or its hopes above this hideous malaria of custom. It is a modern discovery that manufacturing towns may rise up, where comfort, education, morals, and religion, in their OWN STORY. 127 best and happiest exercise, may be possessed by the toil ing masses. A tew words more, and I have done with Danbnry. The health of my brother-in-law gradually failed, and at last, as winter approached, he took to his room, and finally to his bed. By almost insensible degrees, and with singular tranquillity of mind and body, he approach ed his end. It was a trait of his character to believe nothing, to do nothing, by halves. Having founded his faith on Christ, Christianity was now, in its duties, its promises, and its anticipations, as real as life itself. He was afflicted with no doubts, no fears. With his mind in full vigor, his strong intellect vividly awake, he was ready to enter into the presence of his God. The hour came. He had taken leave of his friends, and then, feel ing a sense of repose, he asked to be left alone. They all departed save one, who sat apart, listening to every breath. In a few moments she came and found him asleep, but it was the sleep that knows no waking ! I continued in the store alone for several months, sell ing out the goods, and closing up the affairs of the estate. I had now a good deal of time to myself, and thumbed over several books, completing my reading of Shaks- peare, to which I have already alluded. It happened that we had a neighbor over the way, a good-natured, chatty old gentleman, by the name of Ebenezer White. He had been a teacher, and had a great taste for mathe matics. In those days it was the custom for the news papers to publish mathematical questions, and to invite their solution. Master White was sure to give the an swer first. In fact, his genius for mathematics was so large, that it left rather a moderate space in his brain for common sense. He was, however, full of good feeling, 128 PETER PARLEY'S OWN STORY. and was now entirely at leisure. Indeed, time hung heavy on his hands, so he made me frequent visits, and in fact lounged away an hour or two of almost every day at the store. I became at last interested in mathe matics, and under his good-natured and gratuitous lessons I learned something of geometry and trigonometry, and thus passed on to surveying and navigation. This was the first drop of real science that I ever tasted I might almost say the last, for though I have since skimmed a good many books, I feel that I have really mastered almost nothing. CHAPTER XI. AKBIVAL AT HARTFORD MT OCCUPATION THERE RESTLESSNESS XT FBIEND GEOBGE SHELDON. I NOW enter upon a new era in my life. Early in the summer of 1811, I took leave of Danbury, and went to Hartford. On my arrival there, I was installed in the dry-goods store of C. B. K , my father having made the arrangement some weeks before. My master had no aptitude for business, and spent much of his time away, leaving the affairs of the shop to an old clerk, by the name of Jones, and to me. Things went rather badly, and he sought to mend his fortune by speculation in Merino sheep then the rage of the day. A ram sold for a thousand dollars, and a ewe for a hun dred. Fortunes were made and lost in a day during this mania. My master, after buying a flock and driving it to Vermont, where he spent three months, came back pretty well shorn that is, three thousand dollars out of pocket ! This soon brought his affairs to a crisis, and so in the autumn I was transferred to the dry-goods store of J. B. H . My new employer had neither wife nor child to take up his time, so he devoted himself sedulously to business. He was, indeed, made for it elastic in his frame, quick- uinded, of even temper, and assiduous politeness. He ?as already well established, and things marched along 130 PETER PARLEY'S as if by rail. For a time we had another clerk, but he was soon dismissed, and I was the only assistant; my master, however, seldom leaving the shop during business hours. Had the capacity for trade been in me, I might now have learned my business. I think I may say that I fulfilled my duty, at least in form. I was regular in my hours, kept the books duly journalized and posted. I never consciously wronged arithmetic to the amount of a farthing. I duly performed my task at the counter. Yet, in all this I was a slave : my heart was not in my work. My mind was away ; I dreamed of other things ; I thought of other pursuits. And yet I scarcely knew all this. I had certainly no definite plan for the future. A thousand things floated before my imagination. Every book I read drew me aside into its own vortex. Poetry made me poetical ; politics made me political ; travels made me truant. I was restless, for I was in a wrong position ; yet I asked no advice, for I did not know that I needed it. My head and heart were a hive of thoughts and feelings, without the regulating and sedative supremacy of a clear and controlling intelligence. I was then eighteen years of age. I had been suf ficiently educated for my station. My parents had now removed from Ridgefield to Berlin, a distance of but eleven miles from my present residence, so that I had easy and frequent communication with them. My uncle, Chauncey Goodrich, then a Senator of the United States, lived in an almost contiguous street, and while in the city, always treated me with the kindness and considera tion which my relationship to him naturally dictated. In general, then, my situation was eligible enough ; and yet I was unhappy. OWN STORY. 131 The truth is, I had now been able to sit in judgment npon myself to review my acquirements, to analyze my capacities, to estimate my character, to compare myself with others, and to see a little into the future. The decision was painful to my ambition. I had all along, unconsciously, cherished a vague idea of some sort of eminence, and this, unhappily, had nothing to do with selling goods or making money. I had lived in the midst of relations, friends, and alliances, all of which had cultivated in me trains of thought alien to my present employment. My connections were respectable some of them eminent, but none of them rich. All had ac quired their positions without wealth, and I think it was rather their habit to speak of it as a very secondary affair. Brought up under such influences, how could I give up my heart to trade ? It was clear, indeed, that I had missed my vocation. Full of this conviction, I besought my parents to allow me to quit the store, and attempt to make my way through college. Whether for good or ill, I know not, but they decided against the change, and certainly on substantial grounds. Their circumstances did not permit them to offer me any considerable aid, and without it they feared that I should meet with insuperable difficulties. I returned to the store disheartened at first, but after a time my courage revived, and I resolved to re-educate myself. I borrowed some Latin books, and with the aid of George Sheldon, an assistant in a publisher's estab lishment, and at this time my bosom friend, I passed through the Latin Grammar, and penetrated a little way into Virgil. This was done at night, for during the day I was fully occupied. At the same time I began, with such light and strength 132 PETEE PARLEY'S as I possessed, to train my mind, to discipline my thoughts, then as untamed as the birds of the wilderness. I sought to think to think steadily, to acquire the power of forcing my understanding up to a point, and make it stand there and do its work. I attempted to gain the habit of speaking methodically, logically, and with accumulating power, directed to a particular object. I did all this as well by study as by practice. I read Locke on the Understanding and Watts on the Mind. I attempted composition, and aided myself by Blair's Khetoric. This was a task ; for not only was my time chiefly oc- pied by my daily duties, but it was a contest against habit it was myself against myself; and in this I was almost unaided and alone. I was to lay aside the slip shod practice of satisfying myself with impressions, feel ings, guesses ; in short, of dodging mental labor by jumping at conclusions. I was, indeed, to learn the greatest of all arts, that of reasoning of discovering the truth ; and I was to do this alone, and in the face of diffi culties, partly founded in my mental constitution, and partly also in my training. I did not at first comprehend the extent of my under taking. By degrees I began to appreciate it : I saw and felt, at last, that it was an enormous task, and even after I had resolved upon it, again and again my courage gave way, and I ceased my efforts in despair. Still I returned to the work by spasms. I found, for instance, that my geography was all wrong : Asia stood up edgewise in my imagination, just as I had seen it on an old smoky map in Lieutenant Smith's study ; Africa was in the south east corner of creation, and Europe was somewhere in the north-east. In fact^ my map of the world was very Chi- OWN STORT. 133 nese in its projection. I knew better, but still I had thus conceived it, and the obstinate bump of locality insisted upon presenting its outlines to my mind according to this arrangement. I had similar jumbles of conception and habit as to other things. This would not do ; so I re-learned the elements of geography ; I revised my his tory, my chronology, my natural history, in all of which I had caught casual glimpses of knowledge. What I read I read earnestly. I determined to pass no word without ascertaining its meaning, and I persevered in this, doggedly, for five-and-twenty years. My friend Sheldon was of inestimable service to me in my studies. Possessing advantages over me in age, ex perience, and education, he made many rough places smooth to my stumbling feet. Especially when, during my early efforts in thinking, my mind was assailed with doubts as to the truth of the Christian religion, his clear intelligence and sincere faith did much to help me through my difficulties. CHAPTEK XII. WAR WITH ENGLAND IN THE ABUT MT TJ-XCLK'S ADVICE CAMPAIGNING ON THE 1IARCH OUB MILITARY COSTUME MY FIBST SOLDIEIi's BUFFER. DURING my residence at Hartford war was declared against Great Britain. For some time Connecticut held aloof from all participation in the struggle. But when, in 1813, our own territory was threatened, all feeling vanished before the instinct of self-preservation, and the strong feeling of animosity which then raged against England. Anticipating this state of things, the state government had made preparations for the emergency. As it was midsummer a period when the husbandmen could ill afford to leave their farms orders were sent by Governor Smith to dispatch at once the companies of militia from the larger towns to the defence of New Lon don and the neighboring country. At that time I be longed to an artillery company, and this was among those ordered to the coast. I received a summons at four o'clock in the afternoon to be ready to march next day at sunrise. I went at once to consult my uncle who, by the way, was at that time not only mayor of the city, but Lieutenant-Governor of the State. He had a short time before promised to make me one of his aids, and perhaps thought I should expect him now to fulfill his engagement. He soon set that matter at rest. " You must, of course, go," said he. " We old PETER PARLEY'S OWN STORY. 135 federalists cannot shelter our nephews when there is a question of defending our own territory." " Ought I not to consult my parents 3" said I. " I will go down and see them to-morrow," he replied. "Certainly, then, I shall go. I wish to go. My only feeling is, that my mother may have some anxiety." " I will see her to-morrow. You may be at ease on that subject. Be ready to march at sunrise, according to your orders. I will come and see you before you start." The next morning, while it was yet dark, he came, gave me some letters of introduction, and also supplied me with ten dollars a welcome addition to my light purse. After a little advice he said, " I have only one thing to add : If you come to a fight, don't run away till the rest do. Goodby I" The next morning, June 7, 1813, about sunrise, the whole company, nearly sixty in number, mounted in wagons, departed. At sunset we were on the heights two miles back of New London. No provision had been made for us, and so we went supperless to bed in a large empty barn. I scarcely closed my eyes, partly because it was my first experiment in sleeping on the floor, and partly because of the terrific snoring of a fellow-soldier by my side. Never have I heard such a succession of choking, suffocating, strangling sounds, as issued from his throat. I expected that he would die, and, indeed, once or twice I thought he was dead. Strange to say, he got up the next morning in excellent condition, and seemed, indeed, to feel better for the exercise. This man became quite a character before the campaign was over : he got the title, of JEolus, and as he could not be tolerated in the barracks, he was provided with a tent at a good 136 PETER PARLEY'S distance, where he blew his blast without restraint. At the close of the campaign he was the fattest man in the company. I was glad to see the daylight. The weather was fine, and as the sun came up we saw the British fleet some half-dozen large ships of war lying off the mouth of the Thames. They seemed very near at hand, and for the first time I realized my situation that of a soldier who was likely soon to be engaged in battle. I said nothing of my emotions : indeed, words were unneces sary. I watched the countenances of my companions as they first caught a view of the black and portentous squadron, and I read in almost every face a reflection of my own- feelings. We were, however, not all sentimen talists. There were among us, as doubtless in all such companies, a supply of witty, reckless Gallios, who gave a cheerful turn to our thoughts. We soon dispersed among the inhabitants, scattered over the neighboring hills and valleys, for breakfast. Like hungry wolves we fell upon the lean larders, and left famine behind. Of course every one offered to pay, but not one person would accept a farthing : we were, indeed, received as protectors and deliverers. It was something, after all, to be soldiers ! With our stomachs fortified, and our con sciousness flattered, we came cheerfully together. At ten o'clock we were mustered, and began our march all in our best trim : cocked hats, long-tailed blue coats, with red facings, white pantaloons, and shining cutlasses at our sides. Our glittering cannon moved along with the solemnity of elephants. It was, in fact, a fine com pany all young men, and many from the best families in Hartford. As we entered New London the streets presented some confusion, for the people were still re- OWN 8TOBT. 137 moving back into the country, as an attack was daily ex pected. A few military companies were also gathering into the town. We were, however, not wholly over looked : women put their heads out of the windows and smiled their gratitude as we passed along. Men stopped and surveyed us with evident signs of approbation. It was a glorious thing to belong to such a company ! At last we came to a halt in one of the public squares. Then there was racing and chasing of aids-de-camp for four mortal hours, during which our martial pride droop ed a little in the broiling sun. At four o'clock in the afternoon we were transported across the Thames to the village of Croton, and took up our quarters in a large house on the bank of the river, vacated for our use. Two immense kettles the one filled with junks of salt beef, and the other with unwashed potatoes were swung upon the kitchen trammels, and at six o'clock in the evening we were permitted each to fish out his dinner from the seething mass. That was my first soldier's sup per ; and, after all, it was a welcome meal. CHAPTEE Xlll. HBW LONDON OTJR MILITABY BEPUTATION SENT WITH A LETTER BRITISH CANNON-BALLS OUT OF HABJj'g WAY AN ALARM ON GUARD TAKE A PRISONER 8TEANOE EMOTIONS MY LEFT-HAND CHUM A GRATEFUL COUNTRY. NEW LONDON is situated on the western bank of the river Thames, three miles from its mouth. It has now ten or twelve thousand inhabitants, but at the time I am speaking of there were not more than four thousand. The entrance to the river is broad, and affords a fine har bor. This is defended by Fort Trumbull on the western side of the river, half a mile below the city. It contained a garrison of six or seven hundred soldiers during the war of 1812. Opposite to New London is the village of Groton, the main street running along the river bank ; on an emi nence some hundred rods from the river, and command ing a view of the surrounding country, including the harbor and the islands which lie scattered near it in the Sound, is the site of Fort Griswold. The old fort is now in ruins, but in my time it was in tolerable repair. Our company, as well .as other portions of the militia, labored upon it, and strengthened it, as well by completing its works as by erecting a small redoubt upon the south eastern side. To the defence of the latter, in case of at tack, the Hartford company was assigned. PETER PARLEY'S OWN STORY. 139 The officers of our company were rigid disciplinarians, and accordingly we were drilled for about four hours each day. We soon gained much reputation for our martial exercises and our tidy appearance. Many people came over from New London to witness our perform ances, among whom were often persons of distinction. On Sundays we marched two miles to church, and being in our best guise, caused quite a sensation. Men and women, boys and girls, streamed along at our flanks, often in a broiliug sun, yet always with admiring looks. After a morning drill we were generally at leisure for the rest of the day, taking our turns, however, on guard, and in other occasional duties. Most of the soldiers gave up their rations of mess beef and potatoes, and. lived on their own re'sources. We formed ourselves into a general club for a supply of fresh fish. Every day three of us went out fishing, and generally returned with a half-bushel basket full of various kinds, among which the blackfish or tataug, now so greatly esteemed, was al ways abundant. I was employed by the captain to keep his journal of our proceedings, and sometimes I was dispatched to New London, or to some one of the officers along the line, with a letter or a parcel. I remember that on one occasion H. A , my special companion, and myself, were sent with a letter to an officer who commanded a small picket on the eastern shore, near the mouth of the river ; that is, at Point Groton. It was a distance of some three miles. The weather was pleasant, and our route lay along the shore of the stream, which opens into a wide bay as it meets the Sound. As we approached the southern point of the shore we found ourselves quite near to the British squadron. One of the vessels, ^which we knew as the 140 PETER PARLEY'S "Acasta" for we had learned all their names was under full sail in a light wind, and coming up toward the shore. She was already so near that we could see the men, and note every movement on the deck. "While we were admiring the beautiful appearance of the ship, we suddenly saw several white puffs issue from her sides and uncoil themselves into volumes of smoke. Then came a deafening roar ; a moment after, and in the very midst of it, there were wild howls in the air above our heads. At a little distance beyond the ground was ploughed up, scattering the soil around, and the top of one of the forest trees, of which a few were scattered here and there, was cut asunder and fell almost at our feet. We understood the joke in an instant, and so did the lieutenant who commanded the picket. He was the object of the attack, and the broadside of the " Acasta," sending its shot over our heads, had hurled one or two balls crashing through the roof of the little fish-hut which he and his men occupied. In less than five min utes they were seen trotting off at a round pace, with their cannon jerking right and left over the rough ground behind them. Several other shots were fired, but the party escaped in safety. My companion and myself en sconced ourselves behind the rocks, and though it was grave sport we enjoyed it exceedingly. We could trace the cannon-balls as they flew by, looking like globes of mist twinkling through the air. Several of them passed close over our heads, and grooved the earth in long trenches at our sides. The noise they made as they rose high in the air was a strange mixture, between a howl and a scream. After having thus showed her teeth and made a great noise the frigate returned to her anchorage, and all was quiet. I hope I shall not degrade myself as OWN STORY. 141 a soldier in your eyes by confessing that this was the only battle in which I was engaged during this glorious war! I must, however, mention one circumstance which tried the souls of our company. On a certain Saturday a large accession to the British force arrived in the bay, the whole number of vessels of all kinds amounted to fourteen. This looked very much like an attack, and ac cordingly there was a feverish anxiety among the in habitants of New London and the vicinity, and a general bustle in the army from Groton Point to Allyn's Moun tain. A large body of militia was set to work upon Fort Griswold. Our company was drilled in the little redoubt which we were to defend, and every preparation was made to give the enemy a warm reception. The general idea was, that a landing of British troops would be made on the eastern side, and that we should take the brunt of the first attack. ^ The sun set in clouds, and as the evening advanced bursts of thunder, attended by flashes of lightning, mut tered along the distant horizon. Our company was ad monished to sleep on their arms. Everything wore a rather ominous appearance. There were no signs of cowardice in the men, but they looked thoughtful ; and when the wit of the company let off some of his best jokes which would ordinarily have set the whole corps in a roar he was answered by a dead silence. It chanced that I was that night on guard. My turn came at ten o'clock. Taking my gun, I paced the bank of the river in front of our barracks. I had received orders to let nothing pass by land or water. It was intensely dark, but at frequent intervals thin flashes of lightning 142 PETER PARLEY 8 sprang up against the distant sky behind dark rolling masses of clouds. Gradually the lights in the streets and windows of New London, stretching in a long line on the opposite side of the river, were extinguished one by one ; a few remaining, however, as sentinels, indicating anxiety and watchfulness. The sounds on all sides were at last hush ed, " and left the world to darkness and to me." More than half of my two-hours' watch had passed when I heard the dip of oars and the flapping of waves against the prow of a boat. I looked in the direction of the sounds, and at last descried the dusky outline of a small craft stealing down the river. I cried out, " Boat ahoy ! who goes there ?" My voice echoed portentously in the silence, but no answer was given, and the low, black, rak ing apparition glided on its way. Again I challenged, but there was still no reply. On went the ghost ! I cocked my gun. The click sounded ominously on the still night air. I began to consider the horror of shoot ing some fellow-being in the dark. I called a third time, and not without avail. The rudder was turned, the boat whirled on her heel, and a man came ashore. Accord ing to my orders I marshalled him to the guard-room, and gave notice of what had happened to the captain. The man was only a fisherman going home, but he was detained till morning. So, you see, I can boast that I made one prisoner. My watch was soon over, and re turning to my station I laid down to sleep. All was soon quiet, and I was buried in profound repose, when suddenly there was a cry in the main bar- rack-room overhead, " Alarm ! alarm !" " Alarm ! alarm !" was echoed by twenty voices, at tended by quick, shuffling sounds, and followed by a OWN 8TOEY. 143 hurried rush of men down the staircase. A moment after the guard ia front discharged his musket, and was answered by a long line of reports up and down the river, from the various sentinels, extending for half-a-dozen miles. Then came the roll of drums and the mustering of the men. Several of our company had been out to see what was going on : they came back saying that the enemy was approaching ! J. M distinctly heard the roar of cannon, and positively saw the flash of muskets. B. W found out that the attack had already begun upon our southern pickets. Nobody doubted that our time had come ! In a very few minutes our company was drawn up in line, and the roll was called. It was still dark, but the faint flash gave us now and then a glimpse of each other's faces. I think we were a ghostly-looking set, but it was, perhaps, owing to the blueish complexion of the light. J. S , of West Hartford, who marched at my left shoulder usually the lightest-hearted fellow in the com pany whispered to me, "Goodrich, I'd give fifty dol lars to be at West Division !" For myself, I felt rather serious, and asked a certain anxious feeling in my stomach, " What's to be done ?" Johnson, our captain, was a man of nerve and ready speech. When the roll was finished, he said in a clear, hearty tone, "All right, my good fellows ! Every man at his post !" These few words which were, however, more politic than true, for one fellow was taken with sudden colic, and could not be got out were electrical. We were ready to take our places in the redoubt Messengers were now sent to the two neighboring posts to inquire into the state of facts. Word was brought that the first alarm came from our barracks ! 144 PETER PARLEY'S OWN STORY. The matter was inquired into, and it turned out that the whole affair was originated by a corporal of ours, who, in a fit of nightmare, jumped up and cried, " Alarm ! alarm !" Our martial ardor soon reconciled itself to this rather ludicrous denouement, though several persons, who had been somewhat chapfalleu, became suddenly inflated with courage, which signalized itself with outbursts of " Hang the British !" " They're a p'ack of sneaking cowards, after all !" and the like. The next morning was fresh and fair. The skirmishing thunder-gusts of the night had cleared the air, and even distant objects seemed near at hand. Before us lay the whole British fleet, still and harmless, in the glassy bay. My lefthand chum, J. S , who, in the dark hour, would have given fifty dollars to be at West Division, was now himself again. " Come on here, you black old Ramilies !" said he, dash- the doubled fist of his right hand into the palm of his left : " Come on here, you black-hearted British bull-dogs, and we'll do your business for you !" Our period of service was brief. In about six weeks from the time of our departure we were dismissed, and returned to our homes. Thus closed my military career, so far as relates to active service. The remembrances of my first and last campaign are, on the whole, pleasant. There were feelings of fraternity established between the members of the company which have continued to this day. My country has not been unmindful of my servi ces ; for I have received two land-warrants, giving me a title to some hundred and sixty acres, with the fresh virgin soil of the Far West upon them. Say not that republics are ungrateful ! CHAPTER XIV. KfMOTO OF WAR IN NEW ENGLAND PERSONAL EXPERIENCE NEWS OW PEACE ILLUMINATIONS CONFESSIONS. I REMEMBER perfectly well the universal state of anxiety and depression which prevailed in New England during the latter part of the war. The acts of govern ment, the movements of fleets and armies, furnish no idea of the condition of society in its daily life. Let me give you a few items as indications of the embarrass ments, vexations, and privations which the war had brought unto every man's house and home. Such a thing as silver or gold money was almost unknown. The chief circulation consisted of bills of suspended banks, or what were called " facilities ;" that is, bank notes, authorized by the legislature of Connecticut, redeemable in three years after the war. These were at fifteen to twenty- five per cent, discount compared with specie. Banks issued notes of fifty, twenty-five, and twelve-and-a-half cents. Barbers issued bills payable in shaving, and va rious institutions adopted a similar course. The whole mass acquired the title, of " rag-money," " shin-plasters," &c. : a large portion of it was notoriously worthless, either as being counterfeit, or issued by irresponsible par ties, yet it generally passed without scrutiny. I had personal experience of the universal depression. In the summer of 1814 I was out of my time, and cast 13 146 PETER PARLEY'S about for some employment. I went to New York for this object, but found not the slightest encouragement. After some reflection I established a manufactory of pocket-books, in connection with one of my friends, who furnished the capital. The greatest difficulty was to find the materials. I made expeditions to Boston, Charles- town, Providence, &c., and was not able to obtain over fifty pieces of morocco fit for the purpose. In Decem ber I went to New York, and was more successful. I made a considerable purchase, and dispatched my goods by the carrier. Pretty well content with my success, I had gone in the evening to a concert at the City Hotel. While listening to the music there was a murmur in the streets. Soon the door of the concert-room was thrown open, and in rushed a man all breathless with excitement. He mounted on a table, and swinging a white handker chief aloft, cried out, " Peace ! peace ! peace !" The music ceased : the hall was speedily vacated. I rushed into the street, and oh, what a scene ! It was on the evening of Saturday, the llth of Febru ary, 1815, that the news of the treaty of peace reached New York. In half-an-hour after Broadway was one living sea of shouting, rejoicing people. u Peace ! peace ! peace !" was the deep, harmonious, universal anthem. The whole spectacle was enlivened by a sudden inspira tion. Somebody came with a torch : the bright idea passed into a thousand brains. In a few minutes thou sands and tens of thousands of people were marching about with candles, lamps, torches, making the jubilant street appear like a gay and gorgeous procession. The whole night Broadway sang its song of peace. We were all democrats all federalists ! Old enemies rushed into OWN STORY. 147 each other's arms : every house was in a revel : every heart seemed melted hy a joy which banished all evil thought and feeling. Nobody asked, that happy night, what were the terms of the treaty : we had got peace that was enough ! I moved about for hours in the ebbing and flowing tide of people, not being aware that I had opened my lips. The next morning I found that I was hoarse from having joined in the exulting cry of u Peace ! peace !" The next day, Sunday, all the churches sent up hymns of thanksgiving for the joyous tidings. I set out in the stage-coach on Monday morning for Connecticut. All along the road the people saluted us with swinging of hats and cries of rejoicing. At one place, in a rather lonesome part of the road, a schoolmaster came with the whole school at his heels to ask us if the news was true. We told him it was ; whereupon he tied his bandanna pocket-handkerchief to a broom, swung it aloft, and the whole school hosannaed, " Peace ! peace !" A all our stopping-places the people were gathered to rejoice in the good tidings. At one little tavern I looked into a room, by chance, the door being open, and there I saw the good- wife, with a chubby boy in her lap both in a perfect gale of merriment the child crying out, " Peath ! peath !" Oh, ye makers of war, reflect upon this heartfelt verdict of the people in behalf of peace ! We arrived at New Haven in the evening, and found it illuminated : the next day I reached Hartford, and there also was a grand illumination. The news spread over the country, carrying with it a wave of shouts and rejoicings. Boston became clamorous with pealing bells ; the schools had a jubilee ; the blockaded shipping, rot ting at the dilapidated wharves, got out their dusty bunt- 148 PETEE PARLEY'S OWN 6TOKY. ings, and these, ragged and forlorn, now flapped merrily in the breeze. At night the city flamed far and wide from Beacon street down the Bay, telling the glorious tale even unto Cape Cod. So spread the news over the country, everywhere, carrying joy to every heart with, perhaps, a single exception. At Washington, the authors of the war peeped into the dispatches, and found that the treaty had no stipulations against the Orders in Coun cil, Paper Blockades, and Impressments, which were the pretexts for the war. All that could be maintained was, that we had made war, charging the enemy with very gross enormities, and we had made peace, saying not one word about them ! So the war was ended. Let us be frank, and confess the truth : the war, in the aspects in which history thus presents it, was disgraceful to the authors of it : it was, in many respects, disastrous to the country ; and yet it has left us some wholesome lessons. It has shown the danger and folly of plunging a great country into a national conflict for narrow and selfish purposes, because, under such circumstances, the people will be divided, and it will be a partisan, and not a patriotic war ; it has put on record another instance in which war has been declared in boasting, and ended pre cisely where it began, after years of violence, sorrow, and bloodshed. It has shown, also in connection with sub sequent events the superiority of peace to war, even in obtaining the ends of justice ; for let it be remembered that Daniel Webster extorted from Great Britain, by the force of argument, that which the sword could not achieve. CHAPTEK XY. TIL EFFECTS OP NIOHT STUDY COMMENCEMENT OF A LITBEABY CARIES THOUGHTS ON DANCING NEW YORK SARATOGA DEATH OF MY TTNCLE BECOME A BOOKSELLER COLD SUMMER T'OTUBB SIDE OF OHIO. I HAVE told you that my apprenticeship terminated in the summer of 1814. Previous to that time I had made some advances in the study of the French language, under M. Value, or, to give him his title, the Count Value. This person had spent his early life in Paris, but afterward migrated to St. Domingo, where he owned a large estate. In the insurrection of 1794 he escaped only with his life. With admirable cheerfulness and serenity he devoted himself to teaching French and dancing, as means of support. He settled for a time at New Haven, where, at the age of seventy, he was capti vated by a tall, red-haired schoolmistress of twenty, whom he married. The Count finally established himself at Hartford, and I became one of his pupils. I pursued my studies with, considerable assiduity, and to practise myself in French, I translated Chateaubriand's Rene. One of my friends had just established a newspaper at Middletown, and my translation was published there\ About this time my health was feeble, and my eyes became seriously affected in consequence of my night studies. Unaware of the danger, I persevered, and thus laid the foundation of ft 13* 150 PETER PARLEY'S nervous weakness and irritability of my eyes, which has since been to me a rock ahead in the whole voyage of life. From that time I have never been able to read or write without pain. As if by a kind of fatality, I seemed to be afterwards drawn into a literary career, for which I was doubly disqualified first by an imperfect education, and next by defective eyesight. Oh ! what penalties have I paid for thus persisting in a course which seems to have been forbidden to me by Providence. After a long and laborious life, I feel a profound consciousness that I have done nothing well ; at the same time, days, months, nay years, have I struggled with the constant apprehension that I should terminate my career in blind ness ! How little do we know, especially in the outset of our existence, what is before us ! It is well that we do not know, for the prospect would often over whelm us. In the autumn of 1814, as already stated, I establish ed, in company with a friend, a pocket-book factory at Hartford ; but the peace put a speedy termination to that enterprise. We came out of it with a small loss, and my kind-hearted partner pocketed this, " for he had money, and I had none." He forgave me, and would have done the same had the deficit been more considerable, for he was a true friend. Early in the following spring, I made an arrangement to go to Paris as a clerk in the branch of the importing house of Kichards, Taylor & Wilder, of New York. About a month afterwards the news came that Napoleon had suddenly returned from Elba, and as business was prostrated by that event, my engagement failed. For nearly a year, my health continued indifferent, and my eyes in such a state that I was incapable of undertaking O W K 8 T O RT. 151 any serious business. I spent my time partly at Berlin, and partly at Hartford. I read a little, and practised my French with Value and his scholars. I also felt the need of disciplining my hands and feet, which about these days seemed to me to have acquired a most absurd de velopment, giving me a feeling of great embarrassment when I entered into company. I therefore took lessons in dancing, and, whether I profited by it or not as to manners, I am persuaded that this portion of my edu cation was highly beneficial to me in other points of view. As many good people have a prejudice against dan cing, I am disposed to write down my experience on the subject. In the winter, our good old teacher had weekly cotillion parties, for *the purpose of improving his schol ars. The young men invited the young women, and took them to these gatherings, and after the exercises conducted them home again. I know this will sound strange to those who only understand metropolitan man ners at the present day ; but I never knew an instance, in my own experience or observation, in which the strictest propriety was departed from. These parties took place in the evening : they began at eight o'clock, and continued till ten or eleven sometimes till twelve. The company consisted entirely of young persons, from fifteen to twenty years of age : they included the chil dren of the respectable inhabitants, with a number of young ladies from the boarding-schools. Some of these I have since seen the wives of bishops, senators, and governors of States filling the first stations to which women can aspire in this country, and I am satisfied that these Hartford parties, under the auspices of our amiable and respected old teacher, were every way refining and 152 PETER PARLEY'S elevating : not only did they impart ease of manner, but, as I think, purity of sentiment. In the spring of 1815 I paid a visit to New York, and having letters of introduction to Oliver Wolcott and Archibald Gracie, I called on these gentlemen. My lodgings were at the City Hotel, situated on the western side of Broadway, between Thames and Cedar Streets, the space being now occupied by warehouses. It was then the chief hotel of New York, and was kept by a model landlord, named Jennings, with .a model bar-keeper by the name of Willard. The latter was said never to sleep night or day, for at all hours he was at his post, and never forgot a customer, even after an absence of twenty years. It was late in the spring, and Mr.*Gracie called for me and took me to his country seat, occupying a little pro- monotory on the western side of Hurlgate, a charming spot. Contiguous to it were the summer residences of many of the leading citizens of New York. Here I spent a fortnight very agreeably. Mr. Gracie was at this period distinguished alike on account of his wealth, his intelligence, and his amiable and honorable character. Never have I witnessed anything more charm ing more affectionate, dignified, and graceful, than the intercourse of the family with one another. Not many years after, Mr. Gracie lost his entire fortune by the vicissitudes of commerce, but his character was beyond the reach of accident. He is still remembered with affectionate respect by all those whose memories reach back to the times in which he flourished, and when it might be said, without disparagement to any other man, that he was the first merchant in New York. Early in the ensuing summer, my uncle, Chauncey OWN STORY. 153 Goodrich, being in bad health, paid a visit to Saratoga and Ballston for the benefit of the waters, and I accom panied him. We soon returned, however, for it was now apparent that he had a disease of the heart, which was rapidly tending to a fatal result. Experiencing great suf fering at intervals, he gradually yielded to the progress of his malady, and at last, on the 18th of August, 1815, while walking the room, and engaged in cheerful con versation, he faltered, sank into a chair, and instantly ex pired. " His death," says the historian, " was a shock to the whole community. Party distinctions were forgot ten, under a sense of the general calamity ; and in the simple but expressive language which was used at his funeral, ' all united in a tribute of respect to the man who had so long been dear to us, and done us so much good.' " To me, the loss was irreparable ; leaving, however, in my heart a feeling of gratitude that I had witnessed an ex ample of the highest intellectual power united with the greatest moral excellence, and that, too, in one whose relationship to me enforced and commended its teachings to my special observance. Alas, how little have I done in life that is worthy of such inspiration ! Not long after this, my friend George Sheldon, who had established himself as a bookseller and publisher, invited me to become his partner, and this I did early in the year 1816. We pursued the business for nearly two years, during which time we published, among other works, Scott's Family Bible, in five volumes quarto a considerable enterprise for that period in a place like Hartford. In the autumn of 1817 I had gone to Berlin, for the purpose of making a short excursion for the benefit of my health, when a messenger came from Hart ford, saying that my partner was very ill, and wished me 154 PETER PARLEY'S to return. I immediately complied, and on entering the room of my friend I found him in a high fever, his mind already wandering in painful dreams. As I came to his bedside he said, " Oh, take away these horrid knives, they cut me to the heart !" I stooped over him and said, " There are no knives here ; you are only dreaming." " Oh, is it you ?" said he. " I am glad you have come. Do stay with me, and speak to me, so as to keep off these dreadful fancies." I did stay by him for four days and nights ; but his doom was sealed. His mind continued in a state of wild delirium till a few minutes before his death. I stood gazing at his face, when a sudden change came over him : the agitated and disturbed look of insanity had passed a quiet pallor had come over his countenance, leaving it calm and peaceful. He opened his eyes, and, as if wak ing from sleep, looked on me with an aspect of recogni tion. His lips moved, and he pronounced the name of his wife : she came, with all the feelings of youth and love ay, and of hope, too, in her heart. She bent over him : he raised his feeble and emaciated arms and clasped her to his heart : he gave her one kiss, and passed to another life ! The summer of 1816 was probably the coldest that has been known in this century. In New England from Connecticut to Maine there were severe frosts in every month. The crop of Indian corn was almost entirely cut off: of potatoes, hay, oats, &c., there was not, probably, more than half the usual supply. The means of averting the effects of such a calamity now afforded by railroads, steam navigation, canals, and other facilities of intercommunication did not then exist. OWN STORY. 155 The following winter waa severe, and the ensuing spring backward. At this time I made a journey into New Hampshire, passing along the Connecticut river, 111 the region of Hanover. It was then June, and the hills were almost as barren as in November. I saw a man at Orford who had been forty miles for a half-bushel of Indian corn, and paid two dollars for it ! Along the seaboard it was not difficult to obtain a supply of food, although every article was dear. In the interior it was otherwise : the cattle died for want of fod der, and many of the inhabitants nearly perished from starvation. The desolating effects of the war still linger ed over the country, and at last a kind of despair seized upon some of the people. In the pressure of adversity many persons lost their judgment, and thousands feared or felt that New England was destined, henceforth, to be come a part of the frigid zone. At the same time, Ohio with its rich soil, its mild climate, its inviting prairies was opened fully upon the alarmed and anxious vision. As was natural under the circumstances, a sort of stampede took place from cold, desolate, worn-out New England, to this land of promise. I remember very well the tide of emigration through Connecticut on its way to the West, during the summer of 1817. Some persons went in covered wagons frequently a family consisting of father, mother, and nine unall children, with one at the breast some on foot, and some crowded together under the cover, with kettle, gridirons, feather-beds, crockery, and the family Bible, vVatts's Psalms and Hymns, and Webster's Spelling >ook the lares and penates of the household. Others tarted in ox-carts, and trudged on at the rate of ten ailes a-day. In several instances I saw families on foot 156 PETER PARLEY'S the father and boys taking turns in dragging along an improvised hand-wagon, loaded with the wreck of the household goods occasionally giving the mother and baby a ride. Many of these persons were in a state 01 poverty, and begged their way as they went. Some died before they reached the expected Canaan ; many perished after their arrival, from fatigue and privation ; and others from the fever and ague, which was then certain to attack the new settlers. It was, I think, in 1818, that I published a small tract, entitled, " T'other Side of Ohio," that is, the other view, in contrast to the popular notion that it was the paradise of the world. It was written by Dr. Hand, a talented young physician of Berlin, who had made a visit to the West about this time. It consisted mainly of vivid but painful pictures of the accidents and incidents attending this wholesale migration. The roads over the Allegha- nies, between Philadelphia and Pittsburg, were then rude, steep, and dangerous, and some of the more pre cipitous slopes were consequently strewn with the carcases of wagons, carts, horses, oxen, which had made ship wreck in their perilous descents. The scenes on the road of families gathered at night in miserable sheds, called taverns mothers frying, children crying, fathers swearing, were a mingled comedy and tragedy of errors. Even when they arrived at their new homes, along the banks of the Muskingum, or the Scioto, frequently the whole family father, mother, children speedily ex changed the fresh complexion and elastic step of their first abodes, for the sunken cheek and languid movement, which mark the victim of intermittent fever. The instances of home-sickness, described by this vivid sketcher, were touching. Not even the captive Israelites, STORY. 157 who hung their harps upon the willows along the banks of the Euphrates, wept more bitter tears, or looked back with more longing to their native homes, than did these exiles from New England ; mourning the land they had left, with its roads, schools, meeting-houses; its hope, health, and happiness ! Two instances, related by the traveller, I must mention. He was one day riding in the woods, apart from the settlements, when he met a youth some eighteen years of age, in a hunting-frock, and with a fowling-piece in his hand. The two fell into conversation. " Where are you from ?" said the youth, at last. " From Connecticut," was the reply. " That is near the old Bay State !" "Yes." "And have you been there?" " To Massachusetts ? Yes, many a time." " Let me take your hand, stranger. My mother was from the Bay State, and brought me here when I was an infant. I have heard her speak of it. Oh, it must be a lovely land ! I wish I could see a meeting-house and a school-house, for she is always talking about them. And the sea the sea oh, if I could see that ! Did you ever see it, stranger ?" "Yes, often." " What, the real, salt sea the ocean with the ships upon it ?" " Yes." " Well," said the youth, scarcely able to suppress his emotion, " if I could see the old Bay State and the jcean, I should be willing then to die !" In another instance the traveller met, somewheie in ;he valley of the Scioto, a man from Hartford, by the 14 158 PETER PARLEY'S OWN STORY. name of Bull. He was a severe democrat, and feeling sorely oppressed with the idea that he was no better off in Connecticut under federalism than the Hebrews in Egypt, joined the throng and migrated to Ohio. He was a man of substance, but his wealth was of little avail in a new country, where all the comforts and luxuries of civilization were unknown. " When I left Connecticut," said he, " I was wretched from thinking of the sins of federalism. After I had got across Byram river, which divides that State from New York, I knelt down and thanked the Lord for that He had brought me and mine out of such a priest-ridden land. But I've been well punished, and I'm now prepar ing to return ; when I again cross Byram river, I shall thank God that He has permitted me to get back again !" CHAPTEK XYI. JJAEUIAGE WALTER SCOTT BYEON SIDNEY SMITH'S TAUNT PUBLICATION OF OKIGINAL AMERICAN WORKS MBS. 8IGOUENKY. EARLY in the year 1818 I was married to the daugh ter of Stephen Howe Bradley, of Westminster, Vermont. Thus established in life, I pursued the business of book seller and publisher at Hartford for four years. My voca tion gave me the command of books, but I was able to read very little my eyes continuing to be so weak that I could hardly do justice to my affairs. However, I dip ped into a good many books, and acquired a considerable knowledge of authors and their works. During the period in which Scott had been enchanting the world with his poetry that is, from 1805 to 1815 I had shared in the general intoxication. The Lady of the Lake delighted me beyond expression, and even now, it seems to me the most pleasing and perfect of metrical romances. These productions seized powerfully upon the popular mind, partly on account of the romance of their revelations, and partly also because of the simplicity of the style, and the easy flow of the versification. Every body could read and comprehend them. One of my younger sisters committed the whole of the Lady of the Lake to memory, and was accustomed of an evening to it at her sewing, while she recited it to an admiring cir- !e of listeners. All young poets were inoculated with 160 PETEK PARLEY'S the octosyllabic verse, and newspapers, magazines, and even volumes, teemed with imitations and variations in spired by the " Wizard Harp of the North." Not only did Scott himself continue to pour out volume after volume, but others produced set poems in his style, some of them so close in their imitation as to be supposed the works of Scott himself, trying the effect of a disguise. At last, however, the market was overstocked, and the general appetite began to pall with a surfeit, when a sudden change took place in the public taste. It was just at this point that Byron produced his first canto of Childe Harold's Pilgrimage. Scott speedily ap preciated the eclipse to which his poetical career was doomed by the rising genius of Byron. He now turned his attention to prose fiction, and in July, 1814, com pleted and published Waverley, which had been begun some eight or ten years before. . Guy Mannering came out the next year, and was received with a certain degree of eagerness. The Antiquary, Black Dwarf, Old Mor tality, Rob Roy, and the Heart of Mid-Lothian, followed in quick succession. I suspect that never, in any age, have the productions of any author created in the world so wide and deep an enthusiasm. This emotion reached its height upon the appearance of Ivanhoe in 1819, which, I think, proved the most popular of these marvellous pro ductions. At this period, although there was a good deal of mys tery as to their authorship, the public generally referred them to Scott. He was called the " Great Unknown" a title which served to create even an adventitious inter est in his career. The appearance of a new tale from his pen caused a greater sensation in the United States than did some of the battles of Napoleon, which decided the OWN STORY. 161 fate of thrones and empires. Everybody read these works ; everybody the refined and the simple shared in the delightful dreams which seemed to transport them to remote ages and distant climes, and made them live and breathe in the presence of the stern Covenanters of Scotland, the gallant bowmen of Sherwood Forest, or even the Crusaders in Palestine, where Coeur de Lion and Saladin were seen struggling for the mastery ! I can tes tify to my own share in this intoxication. I was not able, on account of tny eyes, to read these works myself, but I found friends to read them to me. To one good old maid Heaven bless her ! I was indebted for the perusal of no less than seven of these tales. Of course, there were many editions of these works in the United States, and among others, I published an edition, I think, in eight volumes, octavo including those which had appeared at that time. About this time I began to think of trying to bring out original American works. It must be remembered that I am speaking of a period prior to 1820. At that date, Bryant, Irving, and Cooper, the founders of our modern literature, had just commenced their literary career. Neither of them had acquired a positive reputation. Halleck, Percival, Brainard, Longfellow, Willis, were at school at least, all were unknown. The general im pression was that we had not, and could not have, a liter ature. It was the precise point at which Sydney Smith had uttered that bitter taunt in the Edinburgh Review " Who reads an American book ?" It proved to be that "darkest hour just before the dawn." The successful booksellers of the country were for the most part the mere reproducers and sellers of English books. It was positively injurious to the commercial credit of a book- 162 PETER PARLEY'S seller to undertake American works, unless they might be Morse's Geographies, classical books, school-books, de votional books, or other utilitarian works. Nevertheless, about this time, I published an edition of Trumbull's poems, in two volumes, octavo, and paid him a thousand dollars and a hundred copies of the work, for the copyright. I was seriously counselled against this by several booksellers and, in fact, Trum- bull had sought a publisher in vain for several years pre vious. There Avas an association of designers and en gravers at Hartford, called the " Graphic Company," and as I desired to patronize the liberal arts there, I employed them to execute the embellishments. For so considera ble an enterprise, I took the precaution to get a subscrip tion, in which I was tolerably successful. The work was at last produced, but it did not come up to the public ex-, pectation, or the patriotic zeal had cooled, and more than half the subscribers declined taking the work. I did not press it, but putting a good face upon the affair, I let it pass, and while the public supposed I had made money by my enterprise, and even the author looked askance at at me in the jealous apprehension that I had made too good a bargain out of him I quietly pocketed a loss of about a thousand dollars. This was my first serious ad venture in patronizing American literature. About the same period I turned my attention to books for education and books for children, being strongly im pressed with the idea that there was here a large field foi improvement. I wrote, myself, a small arithmetic, and half-a-dozen toy-books, and published them anonymously. I also employed several persons to write school histories, and educational manuals of chemistry, natural philosophy, &c., upon plans which' I prescribed all of which I pub- OWN STOUT. 163 lished ; but none of these were very successful at that time. Some of them, passing into other hands, are now among the most popular and profitable school-boots in the country. It was before this period that Miss Huntly, now Mrs. Sigourney, was induced to leave her home in Norwich, and make Hartford her residence. This occurred about the year 1814. Ere long she was the presiding genius of our social circle. I shall not write her history, nor di late upon her literary career, yet I may speak of her in fluence in this new relation a part of which fell upon myself. Mingling in the gayeties of our social gather ings, and in no respect clouding their festivity, she led us all toward intellectual pursuits and amusements. We had even a literary coterie under her inspiration, its first meetings being held at Mr. Wadsworth's. I believe one of my earliest attempts at composition was made here. The ripples thus begun, extended over the whole surface of our young society, producing a lasting and refining effect. It could not but be beneficial thus to mingle in intercourse with one who has the faculty of seeing poetry in all things and good everywhere. Few persons living have exercised a wider influence than Mrs. Sigourney. No one that I now know can look back upon a long and earnest career of such unblemished beneficence. OHAPTEK XYII. DOMESTIC TROUBLES SKETCH OF B BAIN ARD AUNT LUCY'S BACK-PAKLOB THK TALI, OP NIAGARA DEATH OP BRAINAED. IN 1821, clouds and darkness began to gather around my path. By a fall from a horse, I was put upon crutches for more than a year, and a cane for the rest of my life. Ere long death entered my door, and my home was desolate. I was once more alone save only that a child was left me, to grow to womanhood, and to die a youthful mother, loving and beloved. My affairs became embarrassed, my health failed, and my only hope of renovation was in a change of scene. Before I give you a sketch of my experience and ob servations abroad, I must present the portrait of my friend Brainard. He came to Hartford in February, 1822, to take the editorial charge of the Connecticut Mirror. He was now twenty-six years old, and had gained some reputation for wit and poetical talent. One day a young man, small in stature, with a curious mixture of ease and awkwardness, of humor and humility, came into my office, and introduced himself as Mr. Brainard. I gave him a hearty welcome, for I had heard very pleasant accounts of him. As was natural, I made a complimentary allusion to his poems, which I had seen PETER PARLEY'S OWN STORY. 165 and admired. A smile, yet shaded with something of melancholy, came over his face as he replied, " Don't expect too much of me ; I never succeeded in anything yet. I never could draw a mug of cider with out spilling more than half of it !" I afterwards found that much truth was thus spoken in jest. This was, in point of fact, precisely Brainard's ap preciation of himself. All his life, feeling that he could do something, he still entertained a mournful and dis heartening conviction that, on the whole, he was doomed to failure and disappointment. There was sad prophecy in this presentment a prophecy which he at, once made and fulfilled. We soon became friends, and, at last, intimates. I was now boarding at " Ripley V a good old-fashioned tavern, over which presided Major Ripley, respected for revolu tionary services, an amiable character, and a long Conti nental queue. In the administration of the establish ment he was ably supported by his daughter, Aunt Lucy the very genius of tavern courtesy, cookery, and com fort. Here Brainard joined me, and we took rooms side by side. Thus, for more than a year, we were together, as intimate as brothers. He was of a child-like disposi tion, and craved constant sympathy. He soon got into the habit of depending upon me in many things, and at last especially in dull weather, or when he was sad, or something went wrong with him he would creep into my bed, as if it were his right. At that period of gloom in my own fortunes, this was as well a solace to me as to him. After my return from Europe we resumed these relations, and for some months more we were thus together. I cannot do better than sketch a single incident, which 166 PETER PARLEY'S will give you some insight into Brainard's character. The scene opens in Miss Lucy's little back-parlor a small, cosy, carpeted room, with two cushioned rocking- chairs, and a bright hickory fire. It is a chill November night, about seven o'clock of a Friday evening. The Mirror Brainard's paper is to appear the next morn ing. The week has thus far passed, and he has not writ ten for it a line. How the days have gone he can hardly tell. He has read a little dipped into Byron, pored over the last Waverly novel, and been to see his friends ; at all events, he has got rid of the time. He has not felt competent to bend down to his work, and has put it off till the last moment. No further delay is possible. He is now not well ; he has a severe cold. Miss Lucy, who takes a motherly interest in him, tells him not to go out, and his own inclinations suggest the charms of a quiet evening in the rocking chair, by a good fire especially in comparison with going to his comfort less office, and drudging for the press. He lingers till eight, and then suddenly rousing himself, by a desperate effort, throws on his cloak and sallies forth. As was not uncommon, I go with him. A dim fire is kindled in the small Franklin stove in his office, and we sit down. Brainard, as was his wont, especially when he was in trouble, falls into a curious train of reflections, half comic and half serious. " Would to Heaven," he says, " I were a slave ! I think a slave, with a good master, has a good time of it. The responsibility of taking care of himself the most terrible burden of life is put on his master's shoulders. Madame Eoland, with a slight alteration, would have uttered a profound truth. She should have said ' Oh, Liberty, Liberty, thou art a humbug !' After all, liberty is the i v>' ' . "--.:' - aJSi% ; ^V-r Mt* - & ..^Kr^ WHITTUHG. 1'. 100. OWN STOKT 167 greatest possible slavery, for it puts upon a man the re sponsibility of taking care of himself. If he goes wrong, why, he's condemned ! If a slave sins, he's only flogged, and gets over it, and there's an end of it. Now, if I could only be flogged, and settle the matter that way, I should be perfectly happy. But here comes my tormentor." The door is now opened, a boy with a touselled head and inky countenance enters, saying curtly " Copy, Mr. Brainard !" " Come in fifteen minutes !" says the editor, with a droll mixture of fun and despair. Brainard makes a few observations, and sits down at his little narrow pine table hacked along edges with many a restless penknife. He seems to notice the marks, and pausing a moment, says, " This table reminds me of one of my brother Wil liam's stories. There was an old man in Groton, who had but one child, and she was a daughter. When she was about eighteen, several young men came to see her. At last she picked out one of them, and desired to many him. He seemed a fit match enough, but the father positively refused his consent. For a long time he per sisted, and would give no reason for his conduct. At last he took his daughter aside, and said ' Now, Sarah, I think pretty well of this young man in general, but I've observed that he's given to whittling. There's no harm in that, but the point is this : he whittles and whittles, and never makes nothing ! Now, I tell you, I'll never give my only daughter to such a feller as that !' Whenever Bill told this story, he used to insinuate that this whittling chap, who never made anything, was me ! At any rate, I think it would have suited me exactly." Some time passed in similar talk, when, at last, Brai- 168 PETER PARLEY'S nard turned suddenly, took up his pen, and began to write. I sat apart, and left him to his work. Some twenty minutes passed, when, with a smile on his face, he got up, approached the fire, and taking the candle to light his paper, read as follows : "THE PALLS OF NIAGAKA. " The thoughts are strange that crowd into my brain, "While I look upwards to thee. It would seem As if God pour'd thee from his ' hollow hand,' And hung his bow upon thy awful front ; And spoke in that loud voice that seem'd to him "Who dwelt in Patmos for his Saviour's sake, 1 The sound of many waters ;' and had bade Thy flood to chronicle the ages back, And notch his cent'ries in the eternal rocks !" He had hardly done reading when the boy came. Brainard handed him the lines on a small scrap of coarse paper and told him to come again in half-an- hour. Before this time had elapsed, he had finished and read me the following stanza : " Deep calleth unto deep. And what are we That hear the question of that voice sublime ? Oh I what are all the notes that ever rung Prom war's vain trumpet by thy thundering side? Tea, what is all the riot man can make, In his short life, to thy unceasing roar ? And yet, bold babbler, what art thou to Him Who drown'd a world, and heap'd the waters far Above its loftiest mountains ? A light wave, That breathes and whispers of its Maker's might." These lines having been furnished, Brainard left hia office, and we returned to Miss Lucy's parlor. He OWN STORY. 169 seemed utterly unconscious of what he had done. I praised the verses, but he thought I only spoke warmly from friendly interest. The lines went forth, and pro duced a sensation of delight over the whole country. Almost every exchange paper that came to the office had extracted them. Even then he would scarcely believe that he had done anything very clever. And thus, under these precise circumstances, were composed the most suggestive and sublime stanzas upon Niagara that were ever penned. Brainard had never, as he told me, been within less than five hundred miles of the cataract, nor do I believe that, when he went to the office, he had meditated upon the subject. The reader will see, from the circumstances I have mentioned, that I know the history of most of Brainard's pieces, as they came out, from time to time, in his news paper. Nearly all of them were occasional that is, suggested by passing events, or incidents in the poet's experience. Early in the year 1825 I persuaded Brainard to make a collection of his poems, and have them published. At first his lip curled at the idea, as being too pretentious. He insisted that he had done nothing to justify the pub lication of a volume. Gradually he began to think of it, and, at length, I induced him to sign a contract author izing me to make arrangements for the work. He set about the preparation, and at length after much lagging and many lapses the pieces were selected and arranged. When all was ready, I persuaded him to go to New York with me to settle the matter with a publisher. One anecdote, in addition to those already before the public, and I shall close this sketch. Brainard's talent for repartee was of the first order. On one occasion, 15 170 PETKK PARLEY'S Nathan Smith, an eminent lawyer, was at Ripley's tavern, in the midst of a circle of judges and lawyers attending the court. He was an Episcopalian, and at this time was considered by his political adversaries unjustly, no doubt as the paid agent of that persuasion, now clam oring for a sum of money from the State, to lay the foundation of a " Bishops' Fund." He was thus regard ed somewhat in the same light as O'Connell, who, while he was the great patriot leader of Irish independence, was, at the same time, liberally supported by the " rint." By accident, Brainard came in, and Smith, noticing a little feathery attempt at whiskers down his cheeks, rallied him upon it. " It will never do," said he ; " you cannot raise it, Brainard. Come, here's sixpence take that, and go to the barber's and get it shaved off! It will smooth your cheek, and ease your conscience." Brainard drew himself up, and said with great dignity as Smith held out the sixpence on the point of his forefinger "No, sir, you had better keep it for the Bishops' Fund !" In Brainard's editorial career though he was negli gent, dilatory, sometimes almost imbecile, from a sort of constitutional inertness still a train of inextinguishable light remains to gleam along his path. Many a busy, toiling editor has filled his daily columns for years, with out leaving a living page behind him ; while Brainard, with all his failings and irregularities, has left a collection of gems which will be cherished to immortality. And among all that he wrote idly and recklessly, as it might seem there is not a line that, " dying, he could wish to blot." His love of parents, of home, of kindred, was beautiful indeed; his love of nature, and especially of OWN STORY. 171 the scenes of his childhood, was the affection of one never weaned from the remembrance of his mother's breast. He was true in friendship, chivalrous in all that belonged to personal honor. I never heard him utter a malignant thought I never knew him to pursue an un just design. At the early age of eight-and-twenty, with a submissive spirit, he resigned himself to death, and in pious, gentle, cheerful faith, he departed on the 26th of September, 1828. CHAPTER XVIII. MY HB8T VISIT TO EUROPE HURRICANE ARRIVAL AT LIVERPOOL LONDOJC TRAVEL ON THE CONTINENT RETURN TO BRISTOL INTERVIEW WITH HANNAH MORE DESIGN IN TRAVELLING VISIT TO IRELAND AND SCOT- LAND. IT was on the 16th of November, 1823, that I set sail in the " Canada," Captain Macy, on ray first visit to Europe. I have now before me four volumes of notes made during my tour ; which I might, perhaps, have ven tured to publish when they were fresh ; but since that period the world has been inundated with tales of travels, I shall therefore only indulge in a rapid outline of my adventures, and a few sketches of men and things, which may perchance be of interest to the reader. Our voyage was, as usual at that season of the year, tempestuous. As we approached the British Islands we were beset by a regular hurricane. On the 5th of De cember, the Captain kindly informed us that we were almost precisely in the situation of the " Albion," the day before she was wrecked on the rocky headland of Kin- sale, at the south-east extremity of Ireland ; an event which had spread a general gloom throughout the United States. As night set in we were struck by a squall, and with difficulty the vessel was brought round, BO as to lie to. The storm was fearful ; and the frequent concussions of the waves upon the ship, sounding like PETER PARLEY'S OWN 8TORT. 178 reports of artillery, made her reel and stagger like a drunken man. The morning came at last, and the weather was fair, but our deck was swept of its boats, bulwarks, and hen-coops. Our old cow in her hovel, the covering of the steerage, and that of the companion-way, were saved. The next morning we took a pilot, and on the 8th of December entered the dock at Liverpool. I had suffered fearfully by sea-sickness, and had scarcely strength to walk ashore. I felt such horror such disgust of the sea that I could easily have pledged myself never to venture upon it again. However, this all passed away like a dream : my strength revived ; and even my constitution, shattered by long suffering, seemed to be renovated. With the return of health and spirits, my journey to London was delightful. Though it was December, the landscape was intensely green, while the atmosphere was dark as twilight. And this was Eng land ! Oh, what emotions filled my breast as I looked on Kenilworth, Warwick, and Lichfield, and at last on London ! I remained in the latter place about a month, and then went to Paris. In April I visited Switzerland and a por tion of Germany, and followed the Rhine to Cologne. Thence I travelled through Flanders and Holland, and taking a sloop at Rotterdam, swung down the Maese, and in May reached London again. I soon after departed for Bristol, taking Salisbury and Stonehenge on my way. Having reached that city, and seen its sights, I hired a post-coach, and went to Barley-wood, some ten miles distant. Hannah More was still living there! The house was a small thatched edifice half cottage and half villa tidily kept, and garnished with vines and trellises. Its site was on a gentle hill, sloping to the 15* ... . 174 PSTEE PARLEY'S south-east, and commanding a charming view over the undulating country around, including the adjacent village of Wrington, with a wide valley sloping to the Bristol Channel ; the latter sparkling in the distance, and bounded by the Welsh mountains in the far horizon. Behind the house, and on the crown of the hill, was a small copse, threaded with neat gravel walks, and at par ticular points embellished with objects of interest. In one place there was a little rustic temple, with this motto "Audi, Hospes, contemnere opes;" in another, there was a stone monument, erected to the memory of Bishop Porteus, who had been a particular friend of the proprie tor of the place. A little further on I found another monument, with this inscription : " To John Locke, born in this village, this monument is erected by Mrs. Montague, and presented to Hannah More" From this sequestered spot an artificial opening was cut through the foliage of the trees, giving a view of the house about a mile distant in which Locke was born ! Mrs. More was now seventy-nine years of age, and was very infirm, having kept her room for two years. She received me with great cordiality, and mentioned several Americans who had visited her, and others, with whom she had held correspondence. Her mind and feelings were alive to every subject that was suggested. She spoke very freely of her writings and her career. I told her of the interest I had taken, when a child, in the story of the Shepherd of Salisbury Plain ; upon which she recounted its history, remarking that the character of the hero was modelled from life, though the incidents were fictitious. Her tract, called Village Politics, by Will Chip, was written at the request of the British Min istry, and two million copies were sold the first year, OWN 8TORT. 175 She showed me copies of Calebs in Search of a Wife the most successful of her works in French and Ger man ; and a copy of one of her Sacred Dramas, Moses in the Bulrushes, on palm-leaves, in the Cingalese tongue ; it having been translated into that language by the Mis sionary School at Ceylon. She showed me also the knife with which the leaf had been prepared, and the scratches made in it to receive the ink. She expressed a warm interest in America, and stated that Wilberforce had always exerted himself to establish and maintain good relations between Great Britain and our country. I suggested to her that, in the United States, the general impression that of the great mass of the pepole was that the English were unfriendly to us. She said it was not so. I replied that the Americans all read the Eng lish newspapers, and generally the products of the British press ; that feelings of dislike, disgust, animosity, cer tainly pervaded most of these publications ; and it was natural to suppose that these were the reflections of pub lic opinion in Great Britain : at all events, our people re garded them as such, and hence inferred that England was our enemy. She expressed great regret at this state of things, and said all good people should strive to keep peace between the two countries : to all which I warmly assented. My interview with this excellent lady was, on the whole, most gratifying. Regarding her as one of the greatest benefactors of the age as, indeed, one of the most remarkable women that had ever lived I looked upon her not only with veneration, but affection. Be sides, I felt that I owed her a special debt ; and my visit to her was almost like a pilgrimage to the shrine of a livinity. When I left America, I had it in mind to ren- 176 PETER PARLEY'S der my travels subservient to a desire I had long enter tained of making an improvement in books for the young. I had sought in London, France, and Germany, for works that might aid my design. It is true I had little success ; for while scientific and classical education was sedulously encouraged on the Continent, as well as in England, it seemed to be thought that Dilworth and Mother Goose had done all that could be done. In this interview with Mrs. More I had the subject still in mind ; and discerning by what she had accomplished the vast field that was open, and actually inviting cultivation, I began from this time to think of attempting to realize the project I had formed. It is true that, in some respects, the example I had just contemplated differed from my own scheme. Hannah More had written chiefly for the grown-up masses ; whereas my plan was to begin further back with the children. Her means, however, seemed adapted to my purpose : her success, to encourage my attempt. She had discovered that truth could be made attractive to simple minds. Fiction was, indeed, often her vehicle ; but it was not her end. The great charm of these works, which had captivated the million, was their verisimilitude. Was there not, then, a natural relish for truth in all minds ; or, at least, was there not a way of presenting it, which made it even more interesting than romance? Did not children love truth ? If so, was it necessary to feed them on fiction ? Could not History, Natural History, Geography, Biography, become the elements of juvenile works, in place of fairies and giants, and mere monsters of the imagination ? These were the inquiries that from this time filled my mind. Taking leave of Barley-wood and its interesting occupant, I traversed Wales, and embarking at Holy- OWN 8T O RT. 177 head, passed over to Ireland. Having seen Dublin, with the extraordinary contrasts of sumptuousness in some of its streets and edifices, with the fearful squalidness and poverty in others, I passed on to the North ; and after visiting the Giant's Causeway returned to Belfast, and embarked in a steamboat for Greenock. Thence I pro ceeded toward Dumbarton, and in the early evening, as I approached the town in a small steamer, I realized in the distance before me the scene of the song, " The sun has gone down o'er the lofty Ben Lomond, And left the red clouds to preside o'er the scene." On the morrow I went to Loch Lomond, crossing the lake in a steamboat ; thence on foot to Callender ; and spent two days around Loch Katrine, amid the scenery of the Lady of the Lake. With a copy of that poem in my hand, which I had bought of a countryman on the borders of Loch Lomond, I easily traced out the principal landmarks of the story : " Ellen's Isle," nearly in the middle of the lake ; on the northern shore, " the Silver Strand," where the maiden met Fitz-James ; far to the east, Benain, rearing its " forehead fair " to the sky ; to the south, the rocky pyramid called " Roderick's Watch- tower ;" and still beyond, the " Goblin's Cave." Leaving the lake, I passed through the Trosachs, a wild, rocky glen, and the scene of the most startling events in the poem. At last I came to Coilantogle Ford, where the deadly struggle took place between the two heroes of the poem Roderick and Fitz-James. Finally, I went to the borders of Loch Achray, a placid sheet of water, beautiful by nature, but still more enchanting through the delight ful associations of poetic art. 178 PETER PARLEY'S OWN BTORY. " The minstrel came once more to view The eastern ridge of Benvenue, For, ere he parted, he would say Farewell to lovely Loch Achray. Where shall he find, in foreign land, So lone a lake, so sweet a strand 1" * * * * * But I must forbear. I have pledged myself not to weary my reader with descriptions of scenery, and especially with that which is familiar to every one. I will try not to sin again : at least till I get out of Scot land. Having spent two days in this region of poetry and romance, I left for Glasgow, and at last reached Edinburgh. OHAPTEE XIX. THK EDINBURGH LIONS LITEBABY CELEBBITIES JEFFBEY IN THE TOUCH BIB WALTKR AT THB DESK HIDING WIIH SCOTCH LADIES BEAUTIFUL SCKNKRY A SCOTCH MIST. EDINBURGH was then decidedly the literary metropolis of the three kingdoms ; not through the amount of its productions, but their superiority. I had several letters of introduction ; among them one to Blackwood ; another to Constable ; another to Miss Y . The latter proved fortunate. Her father was a Writer to the Signet ; an elderly gentleman of excellent position, and exceedingly fond of showing off " Auld Keekie." Well, indeed, might he be ; for of all the cities I have seen, it is, in many respects, the most interesting. I am told it is gloomy in winter ; but now it was summer. And in these high latitudes, nature makes ample amends in this season for the gloom and inclemency of the winter. The day after delivering my letters, Mr. Y called on me, and showed me the lions of the town. Many of them all, indeed were interesting ; but I pass them by, and shall only linger a short time at the Court of Ses sions, which is the supreme civil court of Scotland. This, with the High Court of Justiciary the supreme criminal court forms the College of Justice, and consti tutes the supreme tribunal of Scotland. Their sessions 180 PETER PARLEY'S are held in the old Parliament House, situated in tho centre of the Old Town. We entered a large Gothic hall, opening, as I observed, into various contiguous apartments. Here I saw a con siderable number of persons, mostly lawyers and their clients ; some sauntering, some meditating, some gathered in groups and conversing together. There was a large number of people distributed through the several apart ments, and in the grand hall there was a pervading hum of voices, which rose and rumbled, and died away amid the groinings of the roof above. Among the persons in this hall, a man some thirty years of age, tall and handsome, dressed in a gown, but without the wig, attracted my particular attention. He was walking apart, and there was a certain look of cold ness and haughtiness about him. Nevertheless, for some undefinable reason, he excited in me a lively curiosity. " Who is that gentleman ?" said I, to my guide. "That large, noble-looking person, with a gown and wig ? That is Cranstoun, one of our first lawyers, and the brother-in-law of Dugald Stuart." "No: that person beyond, and to the left? He is without a wig." " Oh, that's Cockburn ; a fiery Whig, and one of tho keenest fellows we have at the bar." "Yes: but I mean that younger person near the corner." " Oh, that small, red-faced, freckled man ? Why, that's Moncrief ; a very sound lawyer. His father, Sir Harry Moncrief, is one of the most celebrated divines in Scotland." " No, no ; it is that tall, handsome, proud-looking person, walking by himself." OWN 8TO BY . 181 " Oh, I see : that's Lockhart, Sir Walter Scott's son- in-law. Would you like to know him ?" " Yes." And so I was introduced to a man who, at that time, was hardly less an object of interest to me than Scott himself. Though a lawyer by profession, he had devoted himself to literature, and was now in the very height of his career. Peter's Letters to his Kinsfolk, Valerius, and other works, had given him a prominent rank as a man of talent ; and, besides, in 1820, he had married the eldest daughter of the " Great Unknown." My conver sation with him was brief at this time, but I afterwards became well acquainted with him. My guide now led me into one of the side-rooms, where I saw a judge and jury, and a lawyer addressing them. The latter was a very small man, without gown or wig, apparently about forty years of age, though he might be somewhat older. He was of dark complexion, with an eye of intense blackness, and almost painfully- piercing expression. His motions were quick and energetic, his voice sharp and penetrating; his general, aspect exciting curiosity rather than affection. He was speaking energetically, and as we approached the bar my conductor said to me, in a whisper, " Jeffrey !" We paused, and listened intently. The case in itself seemed dry enough : something, I believe, about a stop page in transitu. But Jeffrey's pleading was admirable ; clear, progressive, logical. Occasionally, in fixing upon a weak point of his adversary, he displayed a leopard- like spring of energy, altogether startling. He seized upon a certain point in the history of the case, and insisted that the property in question rested at that period in the hands of the defendant's agent, for at least a fort- 16 182 PETER PARLEY'S night. This he claimed to be fatal to his adversary's plea. Having stated the facts, with a clearness which seemed to prove them, he said, turning with startling quickness upon his antagonist, " Now, I ask my learned brother to tell me, what was the state of the soul during that fortnight ?" To a jury of Scotch Presbyterians, familiar with theological mataphysics, this allusion was exceedingly pertinent and effective. We passed into another room. Three full-wigged judges were seated upon a lofty bench, and beneath them, at a little table in front, was a large man, bent down and writing laboriously. As I approached, I caught a side- view of his face. There was no mistaking him : it was Sir Walter himself! Was it not curious to see the most renowned personage in the three kingdoms sitting at the very feet of these men : they the court, and he the clerk ? They were indeed all " lords," and their individual names were suggestive to the ear : one was Robertson, son of the historian of Charles V. ; another was Gillies, brother of the renowned . Grecian scholar of that name ; another, Mackenzie, son of the author of the Man of Feeling. These are high titles ; but what were they to the author of Waverley ? Mr. Y introduced me to him at once, breaking in upon his occupation with easy familiarity. As he arose from his seat, I was surprised at his robust, vigorous frame. He was very nearly six feet in height, full-chested, and of a farmer-like aspect. His complexion seemed to have been originally sandy, but now his hair was grey. He had the rough, freckled, weather-beaten skin of a man who is much in the open air; his eye was small and grey, and peering out keenly and inquisitively from be neath a heavy brow, edged with something like grey, OWN 8TOEY. 183 twisted bristles : the whole expression of his face, how ever, was exceedingly agreeable. He greeted me kindly, the tone of his voice being hearty, yet with a very decided Scotch accent. A few commonplace remarks, and one or two inquiries as to my acquaintance with American literary men, was all that passed between us on this occasion ; but subsequently, as will be seen, I was more highly favored. One morning I found a note at my hotel, from Miss Y , inviting me to breakfast. I went at ten, and we had a pleasant chat. She then proposed a ride, to which I acceded. She was already in her riding- habit ; so without delay we went forth, calling first upon Mrs. Russell. She led us into another room, and there, on the floor, in a romp with her two boys, was Francis Jeffrey ! Think of the first lawyer in Scotland, the law giver of the great republic of letters throughout Chris tendom, having a rough-and-tumble on the floor, as if he were himself a boy ! Let others think as they will, I loved him from that moment ; and ever after, as I read his criticisms, cutting and scorching as they often were, I fancied that I could still see a kind and genial spirit shining through them all. At least it is certain that, be hind his editorial causticity, there was in private life a fund of gentleness and geniality which endeared him to all who enjoyed his intimacy. I was now introduced to him, and he seemed a totally different being from the fierce and fiery gladiator of the legal arena, where I had before seen him. His manners were gentle and gentle manly : polite to the ladies and gracious to me. We found Mrs. Russell in a riding-dress, and prepared to accompany us in our excursion. Taking leave of Mr. Jeffrey, we went to the stable, and having mounted, 184 PETER PARLEY'S walked our steeds gently out of the town by Holyrood, and to the east of Arthur's seat, leaving Portobello on the left. We rode steadily, noting a few objects as we passed, until at last, reaching an elevated mound, we paused, and the ladies directed my attention to the scenes around. We were some two miles south of the town, upon one of the slopes of the Braid Hills. What a view was before us ! The city, a vast smoking hive, to the north ; and to the right, Arthur's Seat, bald and blue, seeming to rise up and almost peep into its streets and chimneys. Over and beyond all was the sea. The whole area between the point where we stood and that vast azure line, blending with the sky, was a series of abrupt hills and dimpling valleys, threaded by a network of highways and byways ; honeycombed in spots by cities and villages, and elsewhere sprinkled with country seats. It is an unrivalled scene of varied beauty and interest. The natural site of Edinburgh is remarkable, consisting of three rocky ledges, steepling over deep ravines. These have all been modified by art ; in one place a lake has been dried up, and is now covered with roads, bridges, tenements, gardens, and lawns. The sides of the cliffs are in some instances covered with masses of build ings, occasionally rising tier above tier in one place pre senting a line of houses a dozen stories in height ! The city is divided by a deep chasm into two distinct parts : the Old Town, dark and smoky, and justifying the popular appellation of " Auld Reekie ;" the other, the New Town, with the fresh architecture and the rich and elab orate embellishments of a modern city. Nearly from the centre of the Old Town rises the Castle, three hundred and eighty feet above the level of the sea ; on one side looking down almost perpendicularly, two hundred feet OWN STORY. 186 into the vale beneath ; on the other, holding communica tion with the streets by means of a winding pathway. In the new town is Calton Hill, rich with monuments of art and memorials of history. From these two command ing positions the views are unrivalled. But I forget that I have taken you to the Braid Hills. My amiable guides directed my attention to various ob jects some far and some near, and all with names familiar to history, or song, or romance. Yonder mass of dun and dismal ruins was Craigmillar Castle, once the residence of Queen Mary. Nearly in the same direction, and not remote, is the cliff, above whose bosky sides peer out the massive ruins of Roslin Castle; further south are glimpses of Dalkieth Palace, the sumptuous seat of the Duke of Buccleuch ; there is the busy little village of Lasswade, which takes the name of " Gandercleugh" in the Tales of my Landlord ; yonder winds the Esk, and there the Galawater both familiar in many a song ; and there is the scenery of the Gentle Shepherd, presenting the very spot where that inimitable colloquy took place between Peggy and her companion Jenny, ; " Gae farer up the burn to Habbie's How Where a' the sweets o' spring an' summer grow : Between twa birks, out o'er a little linn, The water fa's and makes a singan din : A pool, breast deep, beneath as clear as glass, Kisses wi' easy whirls the bordering grass. We'll end our washing while the morning's cool , And when the day grows hot we'll to the pool, There wash oursels it's healthful now hi May, An' sweetly caller on sae warm a day." While we were surveying these scenes the rain began to fall in a fine, insinuating mizzle ; soon large drops 16* I 186 PETER PARLEY'S OWN STORY. pattered through, the fog, and at last there was a drenching shower. I supposed the ladles would seek some shelter ; not they : accustomed to all the humors of this drizzly climate, and of course defying them. They pulled' off their green veils, and stuffed them into their saddle-pockets : then chirruping to their steeds, they sped along the road, as if mounted on broomsticks. I was soon wet through, and so, doubtless, were they. However, they took to it as ducks to a pond. On we went, the water accelerated by our speed spouting in torrents from our stirrups. In all my days I had never such an adventure. And the coolness with which the ladies took it, that was the most remarkable. Indeed, it was provoking ; for as they would not accept sympathy, of course they could not give it, though my reeking con dition would have touched any other heart than theirs. On we went, till at last, coming to the top of the hill, we suddenly cropped out into the sunshine, the shower still scudding along the valley beneath us. We continued our ride, getting once more soaked on our way, and again drying in the sun. At last we reached home, hav ing made a circuit of fifteen miles. Scarcely a word was said of the rain. I saw the ladies to their residences, and was thankful when I found myself once more in my hotel. As a just moral of this adventure, I suggest to any American, who may ride with Scotch ladies around Edin burgh, not to go forth in his best dress-coat, and panta loons without straps. CHAPTEK XX. BLACKWOOD THE GENERAL ASSEMBLY SIB WALTER SCOTT HE. AND MBS. LOCKHABT ORIGIN OF " TAM O'SUANTEB " LAST WOEDS OT SCOTT. I DELIVERED my letter of introduction to Blackwood, and h e treated me very kindly. I found him an exceedingly intelligent and agreeable gentleman. The Magazine which bears his name was then in its glory, and of course a part of its radiance shone on him. He was a man of excellent judgment in literary matters, and his taste, no doubt, contributed largely to the success of the Magazine. Of course I was gratified at receiving from him a note, inviting me to dine with him the next day. His house was on the south of the old town, nearly two miles dis tant. The persons present were such as I should myself have selected : among them Lockhart and James Ballan- tyne. I sat next the latter, and found him exceedingly agreeable and gentlemanlike. He was a rather large man, handsome, smooth in person and manner, and very well dressed. It must be remembered, that at this time Scott did not acknowledge that he was the author of the Waverley novels, nor did his friends. Perhaps the mys tery was even promoted by them ; for, no doubt, it added to the interest excited by his works. However, the veil was not closely preserved in the circle of intimacy. Bal- lantyne said to me, in the course of a conversation which 188 PETBB PARLEY'S turned upon the popularity of authors, as indicated by the sale of their works, " We have now in course of preparation forty thousand volumes of Scott's poems and the works of the author of Waverley :" evidently inti mating the identity of their authorship. The next day I went to St. Giles's Church, to see the General Assembly, then holding its annual session there. This body consisted of nearly four hundred members, chosen by different parishes, boroughs, and universities. The sessions are attended by a Commissioner appointed by the Crown, but he is seated outside of the area assigned to the Assembly, and has no vote, and no right of debate. He sits under a canopy, with the insignia of royalty, and a train of gaily-dressed pages. He opens the sessions in the name of the King, the Head of the Church : the Moderator then opens it in the name of the Lord Jesus Christ, the only true Head of the Church! It appears that the Scotch, in bargaining for a union with England, took good care to provide for their religious indepen dence, and this they still jealously preserve. The aspect of the Assembly was similar to that of the House of Commons, though somewhat graver. I ob served that the debates were often stormy, with scraping of the floor, laughing aloud, and cries of " Hear, hear !" The members were, in fact, quite disorderly, showing at least as little regard for decorum as ordinary legislatures. Sir Walter Scott once remarked, in my hearing, that it had never yet been decided how many more than six members could speak at once ! The persons here pointed out to me as celebrities were Dr. Chalmers, the famous pulpit orator; Dr. Cook, the ecclesiastical historian ; and Dr. Baird, principal of the University. The first of these was now at the height of OWN 8 T O R V . 189 nis fame. He had already begun those reforms which, Rome years later, resulted in a disruption of the Scottish Church. A few days after the dinner at Mr. Blackwood's I dined with Mr. Lockhart. Besides the host and hostess, there were present Sir Walter Scott, his son, Charles Scott, Mr. Blackwood, and three or four other persons. At dinner I sat next Sir Walter. Everything went off pleasantly, with the usual ease, hospitality, and heartiness of an English dinner. After the ladies had retired the conversation became general and animated. Byron was the engrossing topic. Sir Walter spoke of him with the deepest feeling of ad miration and regret. A few weeks before, on the receipt of the news of his death, he had written an obituary notice of him, in which he compared him to the snn, withdrawn from the heavens at the very moment when every telescope was levelled to discover either his glory or his spots. Lockhart and Blackwood both told stories, and we passed a pleasant half hour. The wine was at last rather low, and our host ordered the servant to bring more. Upon which Scott said, " No, no, Lokert " such was his pronunciation of his son-in-law's name " we have had enough : let us go and see the ladies." And so we gathered to the parlor. 'Mrs. Lockhart spoke with great interest of Washing ton Irving, who had visited the family at Abbotsford. She said that he slept in a room which looked out on the Tweed. In the morning, when he came down to break fast, he was very pale, and being asked the reason, con fessed that he had not been able to sleep. The sight of the Tweed from his window, and the consciousness oi 190 PETER PARLEY'S being at Abbotsford, so filled his imagination, so excited his feelings, as to deprive him of slumber. Our lively hostess was requested to give us some music, and instantly complied the harp being her instrument. She sang Scotch airs, and played several pibrochs, all with taste and feeling. Her range of tunes seemed in exhaustible. Her father sat by, and entered heartily into the performances. He beat time vigorously with his lame leg, and frequently helped out a chorus, the hearti- nese of his tones making up for some delinquencies in tune and time. Often he made remarks upon the songs, and told anecdotes respecting them. When a certain pibroch had been played, he said it reminded him of the first time he ever saw Miss Edgeworth. There had come to Abbotsford a wild Gaelic peasant from the neighbor hood of Staffa, and it was proposed to him to sing a a pibroch common in that region. He had consented, but required the whole party present to sit in a circle on the floor, while he should sing the song, and perform a certain pantomimic accompaniment, in the centre. All was accordingly arranged in the great hall, and the per former had just begun his wild chant, when in walked a small but stately lady, and announced herself as Miss Edgeworth ! Mrs. Lockhart asked me about the American Indians, expressing great curiosity concerning them. I told the story of one who was tempted to go into the rapids of the Niagara river, just above the Falls, for a bottle of rum. This he took with him, and having swam out to the point agreed upon, he turned back and attempted to re gain the land. For a long time the result was doubtful : he struggled powerfully, but in vain ; inch by inch he reced ed from the shore ; and at last, finding his doom sealed OWN STORY. 191 he raised himself above the water, wrenched the cork from the bottle, and putting the latter to his lips, yielded to the current, and thus went down to his doom. Sir Walter then said that he had read an account of an Indian, who was in a boat, approaching a cataract ; by some accident it was drawn into the current, and the savage saw that his escape was impossible. Upon this he arose, wrapped his robe of skins around him, seated himself erect, and, with an air of imperturbable gravity, went over the falls. " The most remarkable thing about the American In dians," said Blackwood, " is their being able to follow in the trail of their enemies, by their footprints left in the leaves, upon the grass, and even upon the moss of the rocks. The accounts given of this seem hardly credible." " I can readily believe it, however," said Sir Walter. " You must remember that this is a part of their educa tion. I have learned at Abbotsford to discriminate be tween the hoof-marks of all our neighbors' horses, and I taught the same thing to Mrs. Lockhart. It is, after all, not so difficult as you might think. Every horse's foot has some peculiarity, either of size, shoeing, or man ner of striking the earth. I was once walking with Southey a mile or more from home across the fields. At last we came to a bridle-path leading towards Ab botsford, and here I noticed fresh hoof-prints. Of this I said nothing; but pausing, and looking up with an inspired expression, I said to Southey, ' I have a gift of second sight : we shall have a stranger to dinner !' " ' And what may be his name f was the reply. " Scott,' said I. " ' Ah, it is some relation of yours,' he said ; ' you have invited him, and you* would pass off, as an example 192 PETER PARLEY'S of your Scottish gift of prophecy, a matter previously- agreed upon !' " * Not at all,' said I. ' I assure you that, till this mo ment, I never thought of such a thing.' " When we got home, I was told that Mr. Scott, a far mer living some three or four miles distant, and a relative of mine, was waiting to see me. Southey looked as tounded. The man remained to dinner, and he was asked if he had given any intimation of his coming. He re plied in the negative : that, indeed, he had no idea of visiting Abbotsford when he left home. After enjoying , Southey's wonder for some time, I told him that I saw the tracks of Mr. Scott's horse in the bridle-path, and in ferring that he was going to Abbotsford, easily foresaw that we should have him to dinner." Presently the conversation turned upon Burns. Scott knew him well. He said that Tarn O'Shanter was written to please a stonecutter, who had executed a monument for the poet's father, on condition that he should write him a witch-story in verse. He stated that Burns was accustomed in his correspondence, more especially with ladies, to write an elaborate letter, and then send a copy of it to several persons ; modifying local and personal passages to suit each individual. He said that of some of these letters he had three or four copies, thus ad dressed to different persons, and all in the poet's hand writing. The evening passed in pleasant conversation, varied by the music of Mrs. Lockhart's voice and harp ; and some amusing imitations by a gentleman of the party, till twelve o'clock. It will readily be supposed that my eye often turned upon the chief figure in this interesting group. I could not for a moment forget his presence j OWN 8TOKY. 193 though nothing could be more unpretending and modest than his whole air and bearing. The general effect of his face was that of calm dignity ; and now, in the presence of children and friends, lighted by genial emotions, it was one of the pleasantest coun tenances I have ever seen. When standing or walking, his manly form, added to an aspect of benevolence, com pleted the image ; at once exciting affection and com manding respect. His manners were quiet, unpretending, absolutely with out self-assertion. He appeared to be happy, and desirous of making others so. He was the only person present who seemed unconscious that he was the author of Wa- verley. His intercourse with his daughter was most charming. She seemed quite devoted to him ; watching his lips when he was speaking, and seeking in everything to anticipate and fulfil his wishes. When she was sing ing, his eye dwelt upon her ; his ear catching and seem ing to relish every tone. Frequently, when she was silent, his eye rested upon her, and the lines came to my mind, " Some feelings are to mortals given, With less of earth in them than heaven : And if there be a human tear From passion's dross refined and clear, A tear so limpid and so meek It would not stain an aagel's cheek : 'Tis that which pious fathers shed Upon a duteous daughter's head 1" Eight years later, when I was again in London, Scott was on his death-bed at Abbotsford. Overburdened with the struggle to extricate himself from the wreck of 194 PETER PARLEY'S OWN STORY. his fortunes, his brain had given way, and the mighty in tellect was in ruins. On the morning of the 17th he woke from a paralytic slumber ; his eye clear and calm, every trace of delirium having passed away. Lockhart came to his bedside. " My dear," he said, " I may have but a moment to speak to you. Be a good man : be vir tuous ; be religious : be a good man. Nothing else will give you any comfort when you are called upon to lie here !" These were almost the last words he spoke ; he soon fell into a stupor, which became the sleep of death. So he died, with all his children around him. " It was a beautiful day," says his biographer ; " so warm, that every window was wide open ; and so perfectly still, that the sound of all others most delicious to his ear the gentle ripple of the Tweed over its pebbles was distinctly audi ble, as we knelt around the bed ; and his eldest sou kissed and closed his eyes 1" CHAPTER XXI. Kf ROUTE FOB LONDON "THE LAIRD O' COCKPEN 1 ' LOCALITIES OP LEGESU- ABT FAMEDIFFERENCE OF ENGLISH AMD AUKKICAX SCENERY. EARLY in June I set out for London. My route led me through the village of Dalkeith, and the possessions of the Duke of Buccleuch, which extended for thirty miles on hoth sides of the road. We were constantly meeting objects which revived historical or poetic remi niscences. Among these was Cockpen, the scene of the celebrated ballad ; and as I rode by the whole romance passed before my mind. I fancied that I could even trace the pathway along whicu the old laird proceeded upon his courtship, as well as the residence of " The penniless lass wi' a lang pedigree;" who was so daft as to reject his offer, although "Hia wig was well powthered and as gude as new; His waistcoat was red, and his coat it was blue ; A ring on his finger, a sword and cocked hat And wha could refuse the laird wi' a' that?" We crossed the Galawater and the Ettrick, and trav elled along the banks of the Tweed. We passed Ab- botsford on our left ; and further on saw the Eildon Hills, ** cleft in three" by the wondrous wizard, Michael Scott ; 196 PETER PARLEY'S as duly chronicled in the Lay of the Last Minstrel. We proceeded along the banks of the Teviot, a small limpid stream, where barefooted lassies were washing, as in the days of Allan Ramsay. We saw Netherby Hall, and a little beyond Cannobie Lea, the scenes of the song Young Lochinvar. All these, and many more localities of le gendary fame, were passed in the course of a forenoon's progress in the stage-coach. One day's journey brought me to Carlisle : thence I travelled through the lake district, looking with delight upon Windermere, Rydal, Grassmere, Helvellyn, Der- wentwater, and Skiddaw. Then turning eastward, I passed over a hilly and picturesque country, to the an cient and renowned city of York. Having lingered, half entranced, amid its antiquities, and looked almost with worship upon its cathedral the most beautiful I have ever seen I departed, and soon found myself once more in London. As I shall not return to the subject again, I must say a few words as to the impression England makes upon the mind of an American traveller. I have visited this coun try several times within the last thirty years, and I shall group my impressions in one general view. The whole may be summed up in a single sentence, which is, that England is incomparably the most beautiful country in the world ! I do not speak of it in winter, when en cumbered with fogs ; when there is " No sun, no moon, no morn, no noon, No dusk, no dawn no proper time of day ; No sky, no earthly view, no distance looking blue ; No road, no street, no t'other side the way I" I take her, as I do any other beauty who sits for her OWN STORY. 197 portrait, in her best attire ; that is, in summer.. The sun rises here as high in June as it does in America. Vege tation is just about as far advanced. The meadows, the wheat-fields, the orchards, the forests are in their glory. There is one difference, however, between the two coun tries ; die sun in England is not so hot, the air is not so highly perfumed, the buzz of the insects is not so intense. Everything is more tranquil. With us, all nature, during summer, appears to be in haste : as if its time was short; as if it feared the coming frost. In England, on the con trary, there seems to be a confidence in the seasons, as if there were time for the ripening harvests ; as if the wheat might swell out its fat sides, the hop amplify its many-plaited flowers, the oats multiply and increase their tassels ; each and all attaining their perfection at leisure. In the United States, the period of growth of most vegetables 1 is compressed into ten weeks; in Great Britain, it extends to sixteen. If we select the middle of June as a point of com parison, we shall see that in America there is a spirit, vigor, energy in the climate, as indicated by vegetable and animal life, unknown in Europe. The air is clearer, the landscape is more distinct, the bloom more vivid, the odors more pungent. A clover-field in America, in full bloom, is by many shades more ruddy than the same thing in England : its breath even is sweeter : the music of the bees stealing its honey is of a higher key. A summer forest with us is of a livelier green than in any part of Great Britain; the incense breathed upon the heart, morning and evening, is, I think, more full and fragrant. And yet, if we take the summer through, this season is pleasanter in . England than with us. It is longer, its excitements are more tranquil, and, being 198 PETER PARLEY'S spread over a larger space, the heart has more leisure to appreciate them, than in the haste and hurry of our American climate. There is one fact worthy of notice, which illustrates this peculiarity of the English summer : the trees there are all of a more sturdy, or, as we say, stubbed form and character. The oaks, the elms, the walnuts, beeches, are shorter and thicker, as well in the trunks as the branches, than ours. The leaves are thicker, the twigs larger in circumference. I have noticed particularly the recent growths of apple-trees, and they are at once shorter and stouter than in America. This quality in the trees gives a peculiarity to the landscape : the forest is more solid and less graceful than ours. If you will look at an Eng lish painting of trees, you notice the fact I state, and perceive the effect it gives, especially to scenes of which trees constitute a prevailing element. All over Europe, in fact, the leaves of the trees have a less feathery ap pearance than in America ; and in general the forms of the branches are less arching, and, of course, less beauti ful-. Hence it will be perceived that European pictures of trees differ in this respect from American ones : the foliage in the former being more solid, and the sweep of the branches more angular. But it is in "respect to the effects of human art and in dustry that the English landscape has the chief advantage over ours. England is an old country, and shows on its face the influences of fifteen centuries of cultivation. It is, with the exception of Belgium, the most thickly- settled country of Europe. It is under a garden-like cultivation ; the ploughing is straight and even, as if regulated by machinery ; the boundaries of estates consist, for the most part, of stone OWN STORY. 199 mason- work, the intermediate 'divisions being hedges, neatly trimmed, and forming a beautiful contrast to our stiff stone walls and rail fences. In looking from the top of a hill over a large extent of country, it is impossible not to feel a glow of delight at the splendor of the scene : the richness of the soil, its careful and skilful cultivation, its green, tidy boundaries chequering the scene, its teem ing crops, its fat herds, its numberless and full-fleeced sheep. Nor must the dwellings be overlooked. I pass by the cities and the manufacturing villages, which, in most parts, are visible in every extended landscape ; sometimes, as in the region of Manchester, spreading out for miles, and sending up wreaths of smoke from a thousand tall, tapering chimneys. I am speaking now of the country ; and here are such residences as are unknown to us. An English castle would swallow up a dozen of our wood or brick villas. The adjacent estate often includes a thou sand acres ; and these, be it remembered, are kept almost as much for ornament as use. Think of a dwelling that might gratify the pride of a prince, surrounded by seve ral square miles of wooded park, and shaven lawn, and winding stream, and swelling hill ; and all having been for a hundred, perhaps five hundred years, subjected to every improvement which the highest art, could suggest ! There is certainly a union of unrivalled beauty and mag nificence in the lordly estates of England. We have nothing in Amirica which at all resembles them. And then there is every grade of imitation of these high examples scattered over the whole country. The greater part of the surface of England belongs to wealthy proprietors, and these have alike the desire and the ability to give an aspect of neatness, finish, and elegance. 200 PETER PARLEY'S not only to their dwellings and the immediate grounds, but to their entire estates. The prevailing standard of taste thus leads to a universal beautifying of the surface of the country. Even the cottager feels the influence of this omnipresent spirit : the brown thatch over his dwelling, and the hedge before his door, must be "neatly trimmed : the green ivy must clamber up and festoon his windows ; and the little yard in front must bloom with roses and lilies, and other gentle flowers, in their season. So much for the common aspect of England as the traveller passes over it. The seeker after the picturesque may find abundant gratification in Devonshire, Derby shire, Westmoreland, though Wales and Scotland, and parts of Ireland, are still more renowned for their beauty. So far as combinations of nature are concerned, nothing in the world can surpass some of our own scenery ; as along the upper waters of the Housatonic and the Con necticut, or among the islands of Lake George, and a thousand other places : but these lack the embellishments of art and the associations of romance or song, which belong to the rival beauties of British landscapes. I confine these remarks to a single topic, the aspect of England as it meets the eye of an American traveller. The English do not and cannot enjoy the spectacle as an American does ; for they are born to it, and have no ex perience which teaches them to estimate it by common and inferior standards. Having said so much on this subject, I shall not venture to speak of English society : of the lights and shadows of life beneath the myriad roofs of towns and cities. The subject would be too ex tensive ; and besides, it has been abundantly treated by others. I only say, in passing, that the English people are the best studied at home. John Bull, out of his own OWN STORY. 201 house, is generally a rough customer : here, by his fire side, with wife, children, and friends, he is generous, genial, gentlemanly. There is no hospitality like that of an Englishman, when you have crossed his threshold. Everywhere else he will annoy you. He will poke his elbow into your sides in a crowded thoroughfare ; he will rebuff' you if, sitting at his side in a railway-carriage, you ask a question by way of provoking a little conversation : he carries at his back a load of prejudices, like the bundle of Christian in the Pilgrim's Progress ; and, instead of seeking to get rid of them, he is always striving to in crease his collection. If he becomes a diplomat, his great business is to meddle in everybody's affairs ; if an editor, he is only happy in proportion as he can say an noying and irritating things. And yet, catch this same John Bull at home, and his crusty, crocodile armor falls off, and he is the very best fellow in the world : liberal, hearty, sincere, the perfection of a gentleman. CHAPTER XXII. LONDON AGAIN JACOB PERKINS AND HIS STEAM-GUN DUKES OF WELLING TON, SUSSEX, AND YORK BRITISH LADIES AT A REVIEW HOUSE O COMMONS AND ITS ORATORS CATALANI DISTINGUISHED FOREIGNERS EDWAED IRVING COMPARED TO EDMUND KEAN BYRON LYING IN STATE. LONDON, when I first knew it, was not what it is now. Its population has at least doubled since 1824. At that time Charing Cross was a filthy, triangular thoroughfare, a stand for hackney-coaches, a grand panorama of show bills pasted over the surrounding walls, with the King's Mews in the immediate vicinity : this whole area is now the site of Trafalgar Square. This is an index of other and similar changes that have taken place all over the city. At the present day, London not only surpasses in its extent, its wealth, its accumulations of all that belongs to art, the extent of its commerce, the vastness of its in fluence, all the cities that now exist, but all that the world has before known. King George IV. was then on the throne, and though he was shy of showing himself in public, I chanced to see him several times, and once to advantage, at Ascot Races. For more than an hour his majesty stood in the pavilion, surrounded by the Duke of Wellington, the Duke of York, the Marquis of Anglesea, and other persons of note. But for the star on his left breast, and the respect paid to him, he might have passed as only an over-dressed and rather sour old rake. I noticed that PETER PARLEY'S OWH BTORY. 203 his coat sat v.ery close and smooth, and was told that he was trussed and braced by stays. It was said to be the labor of at least two hours to prepare him for a public exhibition. He was a dandy to the last. The wrinkles of his coat, after it was on, were cut out by the tailor, and carefully drawn up with the needle. He had the gout, and walked badly. I imagine there were few among the thousands gathered to the spectacle who were really less happy than his majesty the monarch of the three kingdoms. I saw the Duke of Wellington not only on this, but on many subsequent occasions. I think the portraits give a false idea of his personal" appearance. He was really a rather small, thin, insignificant-looking man, unless you saw him on horseback. He then seemed rather stately, and in a military dress, riding always with inimitable ease, he sustained the image of the great general. At other times I never could discover in his appearance any thing but the features and aspect of an ordinary, and certainly not prepossessing, old man. I say this with great respect for his character, which, as a personifica tion of solid sense, indomitable purpose, steady loyalty, and unflinching devotion to a sense of public duty, I con ceive to be one of the finest in British history. At this period our countryman, Jacob Perkins, was as tonishing London with his steam-gun. He was certainly a man of extraordinary genius, and was the originator of numerous useful inventions. At the time of which I write, he fancied that he had discovered a new mode of generating steam, by which he was not only to save a vast amount of fuel, but to obtain a marvellous increase of power. So confident was he of success, that he told me he felt certain of being able, in a few months, to go 204 PETER PARLEY'S from London to Liverpool with the steam produced by a gallon of oil. Such was his fertility of invention, that while pursuing one discovery others came into his mind, and, seizing upon his attention, kept him in a whirl of experiments, in which many things were begun, and comparatively nothing completed. Though the steam-gun never reached any practical result, it was for some time the admiration of London. I was present at an exhibition of its wonderful per formances in the presence of the Duke of Sussex, the Duke of Wellington, and other persons of note. The purpose of the machine was to discharge bullets by steam, instead of gunpowder, and with great rapidity at least a hundred a minute. The balls were put in a sort of tunnel, and by working a crank back and forward, they were let into the chamber of the barrel one b}' one, and expelled by the steam. The noise of each explosion was like that of a musket ; and when the discharges were rapid, there was a ripping uproar, quite shocking to ten der nerves. The balls carried about a hundred feet across the smithy struck upon an iron target, and were flattened to the thickness of a shilling piece. The whole performance was indeed quite formidable, and the Duke of Sussex seemed greatly excited. I stood close to him ; and when the bullets flew pretty thick, and the discharge came to its climax, I heard him say to the Duke of Wellington, in an under-tone, " Wonderful, wonderful wonderful ! wonderful, wonderful wonder ful ! wonderful, wonderful wonderful !" and so he went on, without variation. It was, in fact, a very good com mentary upon the performance. Having spoken of the Duke of Sussex, I must say a few words of his brother, the Duke of York, whom I OWN STORY. 205 nad seen at Ascot. He was there interested in the race, for he had entered a horse by the name of Moses, for one of the prizes. Some person reflected upon him for this. His ready reply was, that he was devoted to Moses and the profits. Despite his disgrace in the Flanders cam paign, and his notorious profligacy, he was still a favorite among the British people. There was about him a cer tain native honorableness and goodness of heart, which always existed, even in the midst of his worst career. I saw the Duke on another occasion, at a cavalry re view on Hounslow Heath. The Duke of Wellington was among the spectators. He was now in military dress, and mounted on a fine chestnut-colored horse. His motions were quick, and frequently seemed to indicate impatience. Several ladies and gentleman on horseback were admitted to the review, and within the circle of the sentries stationed to exclude the crowd. I obtained ad mission by paying five shillings ; for I learned that in England money is quite as mighty as in America. The privileged group of fair ladies and brave men, gathered upon a grassy knoll to observe the evolutions of the soldiers, presented an assemblage such as the aristocracy of England alone can furnish. Those who imagine that this is an effeminate generation, should learn that both the men and women belonging to the British nobility, taken together, are without doubt the finest race in the world. One thing is certain, these ladies could stand ' fire ; for although the horses leaped and pranced at the iischarges of the troops, their fair riders seemed as much it ease as if upon their own feet. Their horsemanship vas indeed admirable, and suggested those habits of exer cise and training, to which their full rounded forms and looming countenances gave ample testimony. 206 PETER PARLEY'S The performances consisted of various marches and counter-marches sometimes slow, and sometimes quick across the extended plain. The evolutions of the fly ing-artillery excited universal admiration. When the whole body about four thousand horse rushed in a furious gallop over the ground, the clash of arms, the thunder of hoofs, the universal shudder of the earth all together created more thrilling .emotions in my mind, than any other military parade I ever beheld. I have seen eighty thousand infantry in the field ; but they did not impress my imagination as forcibly as these few regi ments of cavalry at Hounslow Heath. One incident gave painful effect to the spectacle. As the whole body were sweeping across the field, a single trooper was pitched from his horse and fell to the ground. A hundred hoofs .passed over him, and trampled him into the sod. On swept the gallant host, as heedless of their fallen com panion as if only a feather had dropped from of their caps. The conflict of cavalry in real battle, must be the most fearful exhibition which the dread drama of war can famish. On this occasion both the King and the Duke of York were present ; so that it was one off universal interest. About fifty ladies on horseback rode back and forth over the field, on the flanks of the troops, imitating their evolutions. I have been often at the House of Commons ; but I shall now only speak of a debate, in July, 1824, upon the petition, I believe, of the City of London, for a recogni tion of the independence of some of the South American States. Canning was then Secretary of Foreign Affairs, and took the brunt of the battle made upon the Ministry. Sir James Mackintosh led, and Brougham followed him, on the same side. OWN STORY. 207 I shall not attempt to give you a sketch of the speeches : a. mere description of the appearance and manner of the prominent orators will suffice. Sir James, then nearly sixty years old, was a man rather above the ordinary size ; and with a fine, philanthropic face. His accent was decidedly Scotch, and his voice shrill and dry. He spoke slowly, often hesitated, and was entirely destitute of what we call eloquence. There was no easy flow o t sentences, no gush of feeling, no apparent attempt to ad dress the heart or the imagination. His speech was a rigid lecture, rather abstract and philosophical ; evidently addressed to the stern intellect of stern men. He had a good deal of gesture, and once or twice was boister ous in tone and manner. His matter was logical ; and occasionally he illustrated his propositions by historical facts, happily narrated. On the whole he made the im pression upon my mind that he was a very philosophical, but not very practical, statesman. Brougham's face and figure are familiar to every one ; and making allowance for added years, there is little change in his appearance since the time of which I speak. He had abundance of words, as well as ideas. In his speech on the occasion I describe, he piled thought upon thought, laced sentence within sentence, mingled satire and philosophy, fact and argument, history and anecdote, as if he had been a cornucopia, and was anxious to disburden himself of his abundance. In all this there were several hard hits, and Canning evidently felt them. As he rose to reply, I took careful note of his appearance ; for he was then, I imagine, the most con spicuous of the British Statesmen. He was a handsome man, with a bald, shining head, and a figure slightly stooping in the shoulders. His face was round, his eye 208 PETER PARLEY'S large and full, his lips a little voluptuous : the whole bear ing a lively and refined expression. In other respects, his appearance ' was not remarkable. His voice was musical ; and he spoke with more ease and fluency than most other orators of the House of Commons ; yet even he hesitated, paused, and repeated his words, not only in the beginning, but sometimes in the very midst of his argument. He, however, riveted the attention of the Members ; and his observations frequently brought out the ejaculation of " hear, hear," from both sides of the House. Brougham and Mackintosh watched him with vigilant attention ; now giving nods of assent, and now signs of disapprobation. Of course, I visited the House of Lords, paying two shillings and sixpence fpr admittance. The general as pect of the assembly was eminently grave and dignified. Lord Eldon was the Chancellor a large, heavy, iron- looking man the personification of bigoted Conserva tism. He was so opposed to reforms, that he shed tears when the punishment of death was abolished for stealing five shillings in a dwelling-house ! When I saw him, his head was covered with the official wig : his face suf ficed, however, to satisfy any one that his obstinacy of character was innate. While I was here, a Committee from the House ot Commons was announced ; they had brought up a mes sage to the Lords. The Chancellor, taking the seals in his hands, approached the Committee, bowing three times, and they doing the same. Then they separated, each moving backward, and bowing. To persons used to such a ceremony, this might be sublime ; to me it was lu dicrous : and all the more so, on account of the ponder ous starchness of the chief performer in the solemn farce. OWN STORY. 209 There was a somewhat animated debate while I was present, in which Lords Liverpool, Lauderdale, Harrow- by and Grey participated ; yet nothing was said or done that would justify particular notice at this late day. A great event happened in the musical world while I was in London the appearance of Catalani at the Italian Opera, after several years of absence. The opera was Le Nozze di Figaro. I had never before seen an opera; and could not, even by the enchantments of music, have my habits of thought and my common sense so com pletely overturned and bewitched, as to see the whole business of life intrigue, courtship, marriage, cursing, shaving, preaching, praying, loving, hating done by singing, instead of talking, and yet feel that it was all right and proper. It requires both a musical ear and early training fully to appreciate and feel the opera. Madame Catalani was a large handsome woman; a little masculine and past forty. She was not only a very clever actress, but was deemed to have every musical merit volume, compass, clearness of tone, surpassing powers of execution. Her whole style was dramatic ; bending even the music to the sentiments of the charac ter and the song. I could appreciate, uninstructed as I was, her amazing powers ; though, to say the truth, I was quite as much astonished as pleased. Pasta and Garcia, both of whom I afterwards heard, gave me in finitely greater pleasure ; chiefly because their voices pos sessed that melody of tone which excites sympathy in every heart ; even the most untutored. Madame Cata lani gave the opera a sort of epic grandeur an almost tragic vehemence of expression ; Pasta and Garcia ren dered it the interpreter of those soft and tender emotions, for the expression of which God seems to have given mu~ 210 PETER PARLEY'S sic to mankind. It was, no doubt, a great thing to hear the greatest cantatrice of the age ; but I remember Ma dame Catalani as a prodigy, rather than as an enchantress. On the occasion I am describing, she sang, by request, " Rule Britannia" between the acts ; which drew forth immense applause, in which I heartily joined : not that I liked the words, but that I felt the music. It was about this time that a great attraction was an nounced at one of the theatres ; nothing less than the King and Queen of the Sandwich Islands, who had gra ciously condescended to honor the performance with their presence. They had come to visit England, and pay their homage to George the Fourth ; hence the Government deemed it necessary to receive them with hospitality, and pay them such attentions as were due to their rank and royal blood. The king's name was Kamehamaha ; but he had also the sub-title or surname of Rhio-Rhio : which, being interpreted, meant Dog of Dogs. Can ning's wit got the better of his reverence, and so he pro fanely suggested that, if his majesty was a Dog of Dogs, what must the queen -be ? However, there was an old man about the court, who had acquired the title of Poodle, and he was selected as a fit person to attend upon their majesties. They had their lodgings at the Adelphi Hotel, and might be seen at all hours of the day, looking at the puppet-shows in the streets with intense delight. Of all the institutions of Great Britain, Punch and Judy evidently made the strongest and most favora ble impression upon the royal party. They were, I believe, received at a private interview by the King at Windsor : everything calculated to gratify them was done. I saw them at the theatre, dressed in a European costume, with the addition of OWN STORT. 211 some barbarous finery. The king was an enormous man six feet three or four inches ; the queen was short, but otherwise of ample dimensions. Besides these persons, the party comprised five or six other members of the king's household. They had all large, round, flat faces, of a coarse, though good-humored expression. Their complexion was a ruddy brown, not very unlike the American Indians; their general aspect, however, was very different. They looked with a kind of vacant won der at the play, evidently not comprehending it; the farce, on the contrary, seemed greatly to delight them. It is sad to relate that this amiable couple never returned to their country ; both died in England victims either to the climate, or to the change in their habits of living. Among the prominent objects of interest in London at this period was Edward Irving, then preaching at the Caledonian Chapel, Cross Street, Hatton Garden. He was now in the full flush of his fame ; and such was the eagerness to hear him, that it was difficult to get admis sion. People of all ranks literary men, philosophers, statesmen, noblemen, persons of the highest name and influence, with a full and diversified representation of the fair sex crowded to his church. I was so fortunate as to get a seat in the pew of a friend, a privilege which I appreciated all the more when I counted twenty coroneted coaches standing at the door, some of those who came in them not being able to obtain even an entrance into the building. The interior was crowded to excess ; the aisles were full ; and even fine ladies seemed happy to get seats upon the pulpit stairway. Persons of the highest title were scattered here and there, and cabinet ministers were squeezed in with the mass of common humanity. Mr. Irving'g appearance was very remarkable. He 212 PETER PARLEY'S was over six feet in height, very broad-shouldered, with long, black hair hanging in heavy, twisted ringlets down upon his shoulders. His complexion was pallid, yet swarthy ; the whole expression of his face, owing chiefly to an unfortunate squint, was half-sinister and half- sanctified, creating in the minds of the beholder a pain ful doubt whether he was a great saint or a great sinner. There was a strange mixture of saintliness and dandy ism in the whole appearance of this man. His prayer was affected strange, quaint, peculiar in its phraseology, yet solemn and striking. His reading of the psalm was peculiar, and a fancy crossed my mind that I had heard something like it, but certainly not in a church. I was seeking to trace out a resemblance between this strange parson and some star of Drury Lane or Covent Garden. Suddenly I found the clue : Edward Irving in the pulpit was imitating Edmund Kean upon the stage ! And he succeeded admirably his tall and commanding person giving him an immense advantage over the little, in significant, yet inspired actor. He had the tones of the latter, his gestures, his looks even, as I had often seen him in Richard the Third and Shylock. He had evident ly taken lessons of the renowned tragedian, but whether in public or private is not for me to say. In spite of the evident affectation, the solemn dandy ism^ the dramatic artifices of the performer for, after all, I could only consider the preacher as an actor the sermon was very impressive. The phraseology was rich, flowing, redundant, abounding in illustration, and seemed to me carefully modelled after that of Jeremy Taylor. Some of the pictures presented to the imagination were startling, and once or twice it seemed as if the whole au dience was heaving and swelling with intense emotion, OWN BTOBT. 213 like a sea rolling beneath the impulses of a tempest. Considered as a display of oratorical art, it was certainly equal to anything I have ever heard from the pulpit ; yet it did not appear to me calculated to have any permanent effect in enforcing Christian truth upon the conscience. The preacher seemed too much a player, and too little an apostle. The afterthought was, that the whole effect was the result of stage trick, and not of sober truth. The character and career of Edward Irving present a strange series of incongruities. He was born in Scotland in 1792 ; he became a preacher, and acquired speedy notoriety, as much by his peculiarities as his merits. He attracted the attention of Dr. Chalmers, and through his influence was for a time assistant-minister in the parish of St. John's, at Glasgow. From this place he was called to the Caledonian Chapel, where I heard him. His fame continued to increase ; and having published a volume of discourses, under the quaint title, For the Oracles of God, four Orations : for Judgment to come, an Argu ment in Nine Parts : three large editions of the work were sold in the space of six months. Wherever he preached crowds of eager listeners flocked to hear him. His eccentricities increased with his fame. He drew out his discourses to an enormous length, and on several oc casions protracted the services to four hours ! He soon became mystical, and took to studying unfulfilled prophe cy as the true key to the interpretation of the Scriptures. From this extravagance he passed to the doctrine that Christians, by the power of faith, can attain to the work ing of miracles, and speaking with unknown tongues, as in the primitive ages. Such at last were his vagaries, that he was cut off from communion with the Scottish Church ; in consequence, he became the founder of a 214 PETER PARLEY'S sect which continues to the present time in England, bearing the title of " Irvingites." Worn out with anx iety and incessant labors, he died at Glasgow, while on a journey for his health, in 1834, at the early age of forty- two. One more event I must notice the arrival in London of the remains of Lord Byron, and their lying in state previous to interment. His body had been preserved in spirits, and was thus brought from Greece, attended by five persons of his lordship's suite. Having been trans ferred to the coffin, it lay in state at the house of Sir Edward Knatchbull, where such were the crowds that rushed to behold the spectacle, that it was necessary to defend the coffin with a stout wooden railing. When I arrived at the place the lid was closed. I was told, how ever, that- the countenance, though the finer lines had collapsed, was so little changed as to be easily recognised by his acquaintances. The general muscular form of the body was perfectly preserved. The aspect of the scene, even as I witnessed it, was altogether very impressive. The coffin was covered with a pall, enriched by escutcheons wrought in gold. On the top was a lid, set round with black plumes. Upon it were these words, "GEORGE GORDON NOEL BYRON. BORN IN LONDON, 22o JANUARY, 1788. DIED AT MISSOLONGHI, APRIL 19TH, 1824." At the head of the coffin was an urn containing the ashes of his brain and heart: this being also covered with a rich pall, wrought with figures in gold. The windows were closed, and the darkened room was feebly illumined by numerous wax tapers. OWN STORY. 215 And this was all that remained of Byron ! What a lesson upon the pride of genius, the vanity of rank, the fatuity of fame, all levelled in the dust, and, despite the garnished pall and magnificent coffin, their possessor bound to pass through the same process of corruption as the body of a common beggar ! CHAPTEK XXIII. urcnx TO IB* mrmo STATES BOSTON AXD ns WORTHESS- -Brsrsrses OPMU.T1OSSACKBB.M ANN'S " FOIWIT-MS-NOT " THB PAKXXT OF ALL OTHXK AX3TALS TH* AJUKICAX SPKCHES TKHK DKCLISK. HATIKG made a hurried excursion to Paris and back to London, I departed for Liverpool, and thence em barked for the United States, arriving there in October, I remained at Hartford till October, 1826, and then removed to Boston, -with the intention of publishing original works, and at the same time of trying my hand at authorship the latter part of my plan, however, known only to myself. At that time Boston was recognized as the literary metropolis of the Union the admitted Athens of Amer ica. Edward Everett had established the Xorth-Ameri- can Review, and though he bad now just left the edito rial chair, his spirit dwelt in it, and his fame lingered around ft. R H. Dana, Edward T. Channing, George Bancroft, and others, were among the rising lights of the literary horizon. Society was strongly impressed with literary tastes, and genius was respected and cherished. The day had not yet come when it was glory enough for a college professor to marry a hundred thousand dollars of stocks, or when it was the chief end of a lawyer to become the attorney of an insurance company, or a bank, PETER PARLEY'S OWN 8TORT. 217 or a manufacturing corporation. A Boston imprint on a book was equal to a certificate of good paper, good print, good binding, and good matter. And while such was the state of things at Boston, at New York the Harpers, who till recently had been mere printers in Dover street, had scarcely entered upon their career as publishers ; and the other shining lights in the trade, at the present time, were either unborn, or in the nursery, or at school. What a revolution do these simple items suggest, wrought in the space of thirty years ! The sceptre has departed from Judah : New York is now the acknowl edged metropolis of American literature, as well as of art and commerce. Nevertheless, if we look at Boston literature at the present time, as reflected in its publish ing lists, we shall see that the light of other days has not degenerated ; for since the period of which I speak, Pres- cott, Longfellow, Hawthorne, Whipple, Holmes, Lowell, Hilliard, have joined the Boston constellation of letters. It cannot interest the reader to hear in detail my busi ness operations in Boston at this period. It will be suf ficient to say that, among other works, I published an edition of the novels of Charles Brockden Brown, with a life of the author, furnished by his widow, she having a share of the edition. I also published an edition of Han nah More's woi-ks, and of Mrs. Opie's works : these being, I believe, the first complete collections of the writings of these authors. In 1827 I published Sketches by N. P. Willis, his first adventure in responsible authorship. The next year I issued the Commonplace Book of Prose, the first work of the now celebrated Dr. Cheever. This was speedily followed by the Commonplace Book of Poetry, and Studies in Poetry, by the same author. In 1828 I published a first, and soon after a second, 218 PETER PARLEY'S volume of the Legendary, designed as a periodical, and intended to consist of original pieces in prose and verse, principally illustrative of American history, scenery, and manners. This was edited by N. P. Willis, and was, I believe, his first editorial engagement. Among the con tributors were Halleck, Miss Sedgwick, Miss Francis, Mrs. Sigourney, Willis, Pierpont, and other popular writers of that day. It was kindly treated by the press, which gen erously published, without charge, the best pieces in full, saving the reading million the trouble of buying the book and paying for the chaff, which was naturally found with the wheat. Despite this courtesy, the work proved a miserable failure. The time had not come for such a publication. At the present day, with the present acces sories and the present public spirit, I doubt not that such an enterprise would be eminently successful. The first work of the Annual kind, entitled the Forget- Me-Not, was issued by the Ackermanns of London, in the winter of 1823, while I was in that city. It was success fully imitated by Carey and Lea at Philadelphia, in a work entitled the Atlantic Souvenir, and which was sus tained with great spirit for several years. In 1828 I commenced and published the first volume of the Token, which I continued for fifteen years; editing it myself, with the exception of the volume for 1829, which came out under the auspices of Mr. Willis. In 1836, the At lantic Souvenir ceased ; and after that time, by arrange ment with the publishers, its title was added to that of the Token. The success of this species of publication stimulated new enterprises of the kind, and a rage for them spread over Europe and America. The efforts of the first artists and the best writers were at length drawn into them ; OWN STORT . 219 and for nearly twenty years every autumn produced an abundant harvest of Diadems, Bijous, Amaranths, Bou quets, Hyacinths, Amulets, Talismans, Forget-Me-Nots,