n^ 
 
GEORGE MASON, 
 
 , 
 
 THE 
 
 YOUNG BACKWOODSMAN; 
 
 OR 
 
 DON'T GIVE UP THE SHIP.' 
 
 A STORY OF THE MISSISSIPPI. 
 
 BY THE AUTHOR OF ' FRANCIS BERRIAN.' 
 
 BOSTON: 
 HILLIARD, GRAY, LITTLE, AND WILKINS. 
 
 1829, 
 
DISTRICT OF MASSACHUSETTS, TO WIT : 
 
 District Clerk's Office. 
 
 BE it remembered, that on the twenty-third day of January, A. D. 
 1829, and in the fifty-third year of the Independence of the United 
 States of America, William Hilliard, of the said district, has deposited in 
 this office the title of a book, the right whereof he claims as proprietor, 
 in the words following, viz. 
 
 (( George Mason, the Young Backwoodsman ; or ' Don't give up 
 the Ship.' A Story of the Mississippi. By the Author of ' JFVc;iCi$ 
 Berrian.' " 
 
 In conformity to the Act of the Congress of the United States, enti 
 tled, " An Act for the encouragement of learning, by securing the copies 
 of maps, charts, and books, to the authors and proprietors of su }'. 
 copies, during the times therein mentioned : " and also to an Act, en 
 titled, " An Act supplementary to an Act, entitled, * An Act for the en 
 couragement of learning, by securing the copies of maps, charts, and 
 books, to the authors and proprietors of such copies, during the times 
 therein mentioned ; ' and extending the benefits thereof to the arts of 
 designing, engraving, and etching historical and other prints." 
 
 JNO. W. DAVIS, 
 Clerk of the District of Massachusetts. 
 
 CAMBRIDGE : 
 HILLIARD. METCALF, AND CO. 
 
GEORGE MASON. 
 
 CHAPTER I. 
 
 t 
 
 I drag alone my load of care, 
 
 For silent, low, on beds of dust, 
 
 Lie all, who should my sorrows share. 
 
 WIDOW, who weepest sore in the night, and whose 
 tears are on thy cheeks, because thy young children are 
 fatherless, and the husband of thy bosom and thy youth 
 in the dust, dry thy tears. Remember Him, who hath 
 promised to be the husband of the widow, and take 
 courage. Orphan, who hast seen thy venerated father 
 taken from thee by the rude hand of death, and whose 
 thought is, that in the wide world, there is none to love, 
 pity, or protect thee, forget not the gracious Being, who 
 has promised to be a father to the orphan, and remem 
 ber, that thy business in life is, not to give up to weak 
 and enervating despondence, and waste thy strength in 
 sorrow and tears. Life is neither an anthem nor a 
 funeral hymn, but an assigned task of discipline and 
 struggle, and thou hast to gird thyself, and go to thy 
 duty in the strength of God. I write for the young, 
 the poor, and the desolate; and the moral and the max 
 im which I wish to inculcate is, that we ought never to 
 
 M117264 
 
/ , '. .GEORGE MASON, 
 
 despond, either in our religious or our temporal trials. 
 To parents I would say, inculcate the spirit, the duties, 
 and the hopes of religion upon your children in the 
 morning and the evening, in the house and by the way. 
 Instil decision and moral courage into their young bo 
 soms. Teach them incessantly the grand maxim self- 
 respect. It will go farther to gain them respect, and 
 render them deserving of it, than the bequeathed stores 
 of hoarded coffers. A child, deeply imbued with seif- 
 respect, will never disgrace his parents. The inculca 
 tion of this single point includes, in my view, the best 
 scope of education. If my powers corresponded to my 
 wishes, I would impress these thoughts in the following 
 brief and unpretending story. The reader will see, if 
 he knows the country, where it is laid, as I do, that it 
 is true to nature. He will comprehend my motive for 
 not being more explicit on many points ; and he will not 
 turn away with indifference from the short and simple 
 annals of the poor, for he will remember, that nine in 
 ten of our brethren of the human race are of that class. 
 He will not dare to despise the lowly tenants of the val 
 ley, where the Almighty, in his wisdom, has seen fit to 
 place the great mass of our race. It has been for ages 
 the wicked, and unfeeling, and stupid habit of writers, 
 in selecting their scenery and their examples, to act as 
 if they supposed that the rich, the titled, and the dis 
 tinguished, who dwell in mansions, and fare sumptuously 
 every day, were the only persons, who could display 
 noble thinking and acting ; that they were the only char 
 acters, whose loves, hopes, fortunes, sufferings, and 
 deeds had any thing in them, worthy of interest, or 
 sympathy. Who, in reading about these favorites of 
 fortune, remembers that they constitute but one in ten 
 thousand of the species ? Even those of humble name 
 and fortunes have finally caught the debasing and en 
 slaving prejudice themselves, and exult in the actions, 
 and shed tears of sympathy over the sorrows of the 
 titled and the gre%t, which, had they been recorded of 
 
THE YOUNG BACKWOODSMAN. ^ 
 
 those in their own walk of life, would have been viewed 
 either with indifference or disgust. I well know that 
 the poor can act as nobly, and suffer as bitterly and 
 keenly as the rich. There is as much strength and 
 force and truth of affection in cottages as in palaces. 
 I am a man, and as such, am affected with the noble 
 actions, the joys and sorrows, the love and death of the 
 obscure, as much as of the great. If there be any dif 
 ference, the deeds, affections, fortunes, and sufferings of 
 the former have more interest ; for they are unprompted 
 by vanity, unblazoned by fame, unobscured by affecta 
 tion, unalloyed by pride and avarice. The actings of 
 the heart are sincere, simple, single. God alone has 
 touched the pendulum with his finger, and the vibra 
 tions are invariably true to the purpose of Him who 
 made^the movement. If, therefore, reader, you feel 
 with me, you will not turn away with indifference from 
 this, my tale, because you are forewarned, that none of 
 the personages are rich or distinguished. You will be 
 lieve, that a noble heart can swell in a bosom clad in 
 the meanest habiliments. You will admit the truth as 
 well as the beauty of the poet's declaration, respecting 
 the gems of the sea, and the roses that " waste their 
 sweetness on the desert air ;" and you will believe, 
 that incidents, full of tender and solemn interest, have 
 occurred in a log cabin in the forests of the Missis 
 sippi. 
 
 In the year 1816, the Rev. George Mason arrived 
 towards sunset at a settlement, eight miles south of the 
 Iron Banks, in what is commonly called the Jackson 
 Purchase, on the lower Mississippi. The family had 
 emigrated from New-England, and consisted of this 
 gentleman, a man of dignified appearance, though in 
 dicating fatigue, exhaustion, and feeble health, and turn 
 ed of forty years ; his lady, with a complexion which 
 had originally been as fair as a lily, but now browned 
 by the suns of a long journey, in the warmer days of 
 Autumn, and with an expression of sweetness, rendered 
 i* 
 
GEORGE MASON, 
 
 interesting by a strong touch of care and sorrow, and 
 whose age, from appearance, might be thirty-five ; and 
 five children, four sons and a daughter. George, the 
 hero of this story, was a fair, white-headed, blue-eyed 
 boy of fourteen ; Eliza, a sweet little girl of twelve, 
 with a keen black eye, a face of Italian contour, and 
 slightly olive. Glossy ringlets of black hair curled in 
 her neck. A shrinking and timid manner evidenced 
 natural sensibility, the seclusion and retirement, in 
 which she had been reared, and the rough people, 
 from whom she had recently shrunk, on a journey of 
 sixteen hundred miles. Henry, Thomas, and William 
 were eight, six, and four years old. It was a group, in 
 whrch the parents were of uncommon interest, and the 
 children lovely, beyond what I wish to describe ; be 
 cause I would avoid expressions, that might seej^i ex 
 travagant. They had that singular expression of min 
 gled pride and lowliness, which is apt to be marked 
 upon the countenance and manner of the children of 
 ministers, who constitute the connecting link between 
 the rich and the poor ; their education, arid the stand 
 ing annexed to the profession, placing them on a 
 level with the rich ; and the scantiness and precari- 
 ousness of their subsistence placing them distinctly on 
 the footing of the poor. It was obvious, from their fa 
 tigued and weather-beaten appearance, and their being 
 apparently much exhausted, that jhey had travelled a 
 long way. A slight inspection of their dress, and the 
 hired wagon that had brought them and their effects 
 from the banks of the Mississippi, where they had de 
 barked from a flat boat, manifested that one of their 
 trials had been want of sufficient money to bring 
 them comfortably over such a long way, by such a tedi 
 ous and expensive route. There was a shyness about 
 them, too, which marked, however they disguised it ex 
 ternally, that their hearts revolted from the outlandish 
 and foreign aspect of the tall planters, dressed in deer 
 skin hunting-shirts, with fringed epaulets of leather on 
 
THE YOUNG BACKWOODSMAN. 7 
 
 their shoulders, a knit sash of red, green, and blue about 
 their waists, buck-skin pantaloons and moccasins, a rifle 
 on their shoulders, five or six dogs attending each one 
 of them, and a dozen ragged and listless negroes loung 
 ing behind them.. Real dignity, however, is an internal 
 thing, and belongs only lo the mind. A family could 
 not have been reared, as they had been, where self- 
 respect had been inculcated every day, and every hour, 
 both by precept and example, without showing the in 
 fluence of their discipline, be their dress and appearance 
 in other respects, as they might. There was a look of 
 decency, uprightness, and calm assertion of their stand 
 ing, a certain indescribable, but easily felt manner im 
 pressed upon the- whole family, .which manifested at a 
 glance, that it was the family of -a gentleman, it at once 
 awed and repressed rude and impertinent curiosity, and 
 made the vulgar rich, for therfe were three or four such, 
 who had come to be spectators of the arrival of this fam 
 ily, shrink, from the manifestation of that unfeeling and 
 insulting superiority, wRich such people are apt to evince 
 in the presence of those, who are poorer than them 
 selves. Mr. Pindell, the owner of twenty-five negroes, 
 and Mr. Gorvin, the owner of fifteen, were among the 
 dozen nearest settlers who had come professedly to wel 
 come them to their cabin in the woods. There was 
 much rough but well intended complimenting, and prof 
 fer of aid and courtesy, and desire that they might be 
 better acquainted ; in short, all the kindly meant cere 
 monial, customary among such people on such occa 
 sions. After an acquaintance of two years, it would 
 have been pleasant to Mr. Mason and his family. At 
 present the dim shades of twilight gathering over the 
 boundless woods, the savage aspect of these huntsmen 
 and their negroes, even the joyous evening yell of the 
 hounds, the unwonted and strange terms of welcome, 
 the foreign look of every thing about them, all this was 
 of a character to inspire dismay and homesickness in 
 the hearts of people, recently transferred from a pleas- 
 
GEORGE MASON 
 
 ant New-England village. Way-worn, and but slender 
 ly furnished with the means of simple subsistence, 
 whether they looked around them upon the new soci 
 ety, in the midst of which their lot was cast, upon the 
 dark and sterile woods, whose leaves were falling about 
 them, or into the roofless and unfloored cabin, where 
 they were to shelter for the night ; the whole scene was 
 desolate and chilliag. God is a shade, a shelter, and a 
 .high tower of defence in such cases. The young chil 
 dren had wept with weariness, had thrown themselves 
 on a blanket, and were asleep under the open sky. 
 The neighbours saw that their newly arrived friends 
 were weary, and wished to be by themselves. They 
 had considerately provided plenty of such provisions, as 
 the settlement afforded ; spread bear skins on the sward 
 in the interior of the cabin, and left a black woman to 
 cook supper and breakfast for them. In that mud sea 
 son, and cloudless weather, there was nothing formida 
 ble to them, in the idea of leaving the family to repose 
 on bear skins under the open canopy. One after 
 the other, with the significant Western salutation, " I 
 wish you well," left them to themselves. The younger 
 children were too soundly asleep to be awakened to sup 
 per. The parents and George and Eliza took a hasty 
 supper, provided for them by the black woman, and 
 soon forgot their cares and slept as deeply as if they 
 had been reposing on down, in the most magnificent 
 dwelling. 
 
 Mr. Mason, on report only, and without having seen 
 it, had purchased, as an asylum and a shelter from the 
 approaching winter, this unfinished log-house, in the 
 midst of a clearing of three acres, cut out of the deep 
 forest, in this settlement, eight miles from the river. 
 The nearest habitation was distant two miles. Beyond 
 that, there was a considerable settlement, recently es 
 tablished in the forests. Some of the planters, as we 
 have remarked, were comparatively opulent, and had a 
 considerable number of slaves. The neighbours, of 
 
THE YOUNG BACKWOODSMAN. 
 
 whom we have spoken, had visited them, as is custom 
 ary, to welcome them to the settlement, and to proffer 
 their acquaintance and their aid. 
 
 A bright morning sun, slanting its beams through the 
 forests, at this season delightfully rich with all the mel 
 low colors of autumn, a plentiful breakfast provided for 
 the family, before they were awake, by the black wo 
 man, and to which she awaked them, the devouring 
 appetite of the children, refreshed by their sleep, the 
 air, prospects, and cheerful sounds of the morning, ren 
 dered the scene before them as different from that of 
 the evening, as can be imagined. Every member of 
 the family was cBeerful, and the sole theme was, how 
 they should render the habitation comfortable, and lay 
 in a sufficient quantity of the provisions, which the set 
 tlement furnished, for the approaching winter. We 
 have remarked, that Mr. Mason was in feeble health. 
 He suffered, also, from nervousness, and a tempera 
 ment, probably resulting from that habit, inclining to de 
 jection and despondency. But his was a wisely reli 
 gious family, which had been taught by constant train 
 ing, that despondency, indulged and allowed, under 
 any circumstances, is a sin, implying dishonoring and 
 distrustful views of God, and particularly so, when it 
 hinders the desponding from exertions, which they 
 might otherwise make, to better their condition. 
 
 The depression of Mr. Mason was that of feebleness 
 of health and the physical nature, and not that of the 
 mind. Immediately after breakfast, and the departure 
 of the black woman, the father was seen in company 
 with George, making mortar from the clay, and exert 
 ing himself to fill up the intervals between the logs, in 
 the language of the country, " daubing" the house, and 
 in all the common expedients of the country, to render 
 the habitation a warm and secure shelter from the frosts 
 and rains of the approaching winter. Though his neigh 
 bours were rough, some of them were kind in their 
 way, and they came in and aided him. He saw in 
 
10 GEORGE MASON, 
 
 their mode of managing the business, that there is a 
 dexterity in every business, to be acquired only by 
 practice, and that they knew infinitely better than he 
 did how to " daub and chink " a log cabin. In a 
 couple of days, which fortunately continued fair, the 
 house had a roof, which would shed the rain, though 
 the covering was of cypress-splits, secured in their place 
 by logs, laid at right angles over them, and a chimney, 
 which did not smoke, although it was made of clefts, 
 plastered with clay-mortar, in which, as the material 
 was abundant, there was no lack of thickness of coating. 
 The intervals between the logs were tightiy closed with 
 chinking, well covered with the same material. A 
 partition of small and straight timbers, with an opening 
 cut through one end for a door, divided the area of the 
 cabin into two apartments, one of which contained one, 
 and the other two husk mattrasses. The neighbours 
 assisted him to raise another smaller cabin, in the lan 
 guage of the country, a " logpen," covered and daubed 
 in the same manner, but without a chimney, and here 
 was another mattrass, in which George and Henry 
 slept. These mattrasses, thanks to the cheapness of 
 bleached cottons in our country, though coarsely cov 
 ered, had an appearance of coolness and neatness, which 
 spread a charm round the precincts of the rustic, but 
 neat cabin. A draft was necessarily made upon the 
 small sum of money, that remained to the family, and 
 which was reserved for the most pressing emergencies, 
 to purchase a supply of winter provisions. These con 
 sisted of the substantial materials of a west country 
 man's diet, corn, bacon, and sweet potatoes. Such are 
 the appointments with which a hundred thousand fami 
 lies have commenced in the Western country, and with 
 which they have, probably, been more contented and 
 happy than their posterity will be when dwelling in 
 spacious mansions. 
 
 When the first white frosts of November rendered an 
 evening fire necessary ; when a bright one was kindled 
 
THE YOUNG BACKWOODSMAN. 1 1 
 
 on their broad clay hearth ; when their " puncheon " 
 shutters, for glass they had none, had excluded the un 
 certain light and the chill air of evening ; when the broad 
 table, made with an adz from white poplar clefts, was 
 spread before this fire ; when the repast of smoking 
 corn loaf, sweet potatoes, and fried bacon were arranged 
 on it ; when the fragrant tea was added, in remembrance 
 of New-England, for they still retained a few pounds, 
 brought all the way from that country ; and when the 
 whole was seasoned by cheerful conversation, and that 
 appetite, which is felt in such cabins, and by industrious 
 backwoodsmen in the highest perfection, the guests at 
 this humble feast had no need to envy those of any 
 other. A brilliant blaze, kindled with dry wood, en 
 lightened the whole interior structure of this fresh-look 
 ing, rough-cast, timbered apartment. The faithful dog, 
 that had followed them all the way from their late home, 
 and now doubly dear to them, as associated with their 
 fond remembrances of that country, sat beside the table, 
 looking earnestly upon its contents, apparently as hungry, 
 and as happy, as the children, wagging his tail, and 
 occasionally interpolating a yelp of joy, as an interjec 
 tion in the pauses of the gay conversation. The pro 
 longed and distant howl of the wolves, the ludicrous 
 and almost terrific noises of a hundred owls, the scream 
 of other nocturnal animals, the measured creaking of 
 the crickets and catadeds, and the gathering roar of 
 autumnal winds along the forest, only sweetened a sense 
 of present protection to the children, and rendered the 
 brightness and shelter of the scene within more delight 
 ful, by contrast with the boundless and savage forest 
 without. Such are the scenes, where narratives of the 
 incidents of common life have their highest zest and 
 charm. Such are the scenes, where the confidence 
 and affection of children towards their parents root deep 
 and strong in the heart, and have no touch of merce 
 nary and selfish expectation mixed with them. I have 
 never passed, and I never expect to pass, happier hours, 
 
12 GEORGE MASON, 
 
 than I have spent, while an inmate of such a cabin. It 
 has seemed to me, that a woodsman's cabin that has 
 just risen in the forests, rendered happy by innocence, 
 compeience, contentment, and prayer, concentres af 
 fection, and produces some singular and undescribed 
 associations of contrast, that render it the chosen and 
 hallowed abode of that unassuming happiness, which is 
 the most durable and satisfying, that we can feel here 
 below. I have delightful remembrances of my long 
 sojourn in such places ; and as they return to my 
 thoughts, I earnestly invoke the blessing of God upon 
 the dwellers in cabins. 
 
 The children, each one of whom inherited a sprink 
 ling of romance from th-eir parents, were charmed with 
 these first essays of the life of a backwoodsman. 
 Poor things ! They had as yet seen but the romance 
 and the illusion of the picture. Long may they remain 
 under this pleasant spell, which charms the woods and 
 this new condition for them. A circumstance contributed 
 to heighten the charm. The sixth day after their ar 
 rival, a deer strayed so near the cabin, that George shot 
 it from the door. The same day the father and son, in 
 exploring the grounds directly about them, in relation 
 to commencing a clearing, started a bear from the cane 
 brake. He retreated slowly, and growling from their 
 path, and made his retreat upon a prodigious sycamore. 
 A passing neighbour came to the place. Two or three 
 dogs surrounded the tree, and made the woods ring 
 with cries, which indicated, to a knowing huntsman, that 
 fear was mingled with their joy. A few rifle-shots 
 brought the savage to the ground. There was some 
 thing less wounding to their feelings in the slaughter of 
 such a ferocious animal, than in that of an inoffensive deer. 
 Apart from the noble and spirit-stirring sport of bringing 
 down a large and fat bear, the meat, which is excel 
 lent, and easily preserved, was a matter of no small con 
 sideration to a family like this. Even the skin is an 
 important item in the arrangement of a backwoods 
 
THE YOUNG BACKWOODSMAN. 13 
 
 cabin. I can scarcely imagine more ample materials 
 for pleasant evening conversation and amusement, than 
 were furnished by the hunting of the day. Tender 
 pieces of venison and bear's-meat smoked on the table. 
 The fortunes of that day seemed to promise, that there 
 would be no danger of want of meat, while they pos 
 sessed a rifle, powder, and lead. The black eyes of 
 the charming Eliza glistened with intense interest, as 
 she contemplated the terrible claws and teeth of the 
 savage animal, with an involuntary shudder, observ 
 ing, that much as she longed to gather the wild flow 
 ers, she should always tremble to go in woods, where 
 such terrible beasts were common. George exulted in 
 the spirit of a little Nimrod, as he related the circum 
 stances of bringing down the bear to his younger 
 brothers, who had not been permitted to be in at the 
 death. The misfortune of this pleasant circle was, that 
 there were generally two or three speakers chattering 
 at a time. None, but a canine Lavater, would have 
 comprehended all the visible satisfaction of the dog, 
 who was evidently listening with all his ears, and proba 
 bly regretting the want of speech, that he could not 
 disclose his thoughts among the rest. Even the head 
 of this family turned a countenance, brightening from 
 its common dejection, on Mrs. Mason, who, it would ap 
 pear, had been averse to this immigration. " Eliza," 
 said he, with an air of quiet triumph in his eye, " are 
 you sorry now, that we have brought our dear ones 
 here?" 
 
 How often has my heart been glad in view of scenes 
 like these ! How often have I thanked God, that the 
 world was not made for a favored few ! How often 
 have I felt a religious gladness, in thinking, that calm, 
 simple, pure, and natural enjoyments were thus accessi 
 ble to the tenants of such habitations ! An unenvious 
 spirit of contentment, industry, and prayer rests upon 
 you, ye dwellers in this lowly habitation. Only know 
 your happiness, and you need not envy the tenants of 
 2 
 
1 4 GEORGE MASON, 
 
 palaces. Mrs. Mason herself, as she pressed the hand 
 of her husband, admitted, that the first samples of their 
 new ways of life were more pleasant, than she had an 
 ticipated. To say the truth, though she never remon 
 strated against the plans of her husband, she had enter 
 tained in her heart the most gloomy forebodings, in 
 reference to a new existence in such a distant and 
 unknown country. 
 
THE YOUNG BACKWOODSMAN. 15 
 
 CHAPTER II. 
 
 " Let not ambition mock their useful toil, 
 Their homely joys and destiny obscure." 
 
 IT would too long detach me from the thread of my 
 narrative, if I were to go minutely into the relation of 
 the causes which brought such a family, as that of Mr. 
 Mason's, from the condition of a New-England minis 
 ter's place and duties, to the forests of the lower Missis 
 sippi, and a society, for which they were evidently so little 
 assorted. Few of my readers would comprehend the 
 peculiar trials of a minister in such a place, or would 
 be able to understand the complication of minute diffi 
 culties and vexations, which, during a ministry of sixteen 
 years, in a country village, had broken dovyn his health 
 and spirits, and finally induced him to ask a dismission 
 from his people, and to move to this distant and unknown 
 country. His parish comprehended every shade of 
 opinion in religion and politics. Embittered parties 
 and eternal disputations were the consequence. In 
 attempting to keep clear of all, the pastor became em 
 broiled with all. Both himself' and his wife had been 
 reared delicately. The salary was small, and the family 
 increasing. He became poor, and obnoxious both to 
 the religious and political parties ; and after sixteen 
 years of the prime of his life spent among them, ad 
 mitting, the while, that he was exemplary, of good feel 
 ings, learned and eloquent, they refused him, in town- 
 meeting, a request to add something to his salary. In 
 disgust he asked a dismission, and it was granted. 
 
 To account for his thoughts taking this direction, as 
 a place where to fix himself and family, it would be 
 necessary to explain something of the peculiar texture 
 of his mind and his thoughts. In the progress of his 
 vexations in his parish, he had become, perhaps I ought 
 
16 GEORGE MASON, 
 
 to say, unreasonably disgusted with the condition of a 
 minister in that country. His health and spirits had 
 failed, and while his lady earnestly wished him to make 
 the experiment of trying to settle again, he had be 
 come determined never to be resettled in the ministry. 
 While she would have preferred his trying any other 
 expedient for a livelihood than agriculture, a pursuit 
 for which he was so liitle fitted, he had been accustom 
 ed for years to allow his thoughts to expatiate in fabri 
 cating the romance of pastoral enjoyments and pursuits. 
 By accident the romances of Inilay and Chateaubriand, 
 and other writers equally historical, presenting such 
 illusive pictures of the southern and western country, 
 had fallen into his hands. During the long winter 
 evenings, 
 
 " When fast came down the snow, 
 And keenly o'er the wide heath the bitter blast did blow,'* 
 
 this romance of freedom from the vexations of a minister's 
 life, and the miseries of political and religious alterca 
 tion in a populous village, and escape from the inclement 
 climate, to a country where he might find health, free 
 dom, solitude, rich land, and independence, formed in 
 his imagination. Once formed there, all his reading 
 and reasonings, all the opposing arguments, all the re 
 monstrances of his friends, and each renewed vexation, 
 embellished his romance, and confirmed his purpose. 
 His wife, at first, argued gently against the plan ; but 
 she loved her husband, and his often repeated, and elo 
 quently painted views of his romance, finally presented 
 it to her mind as a reality. 
 
 I need not describe the departure of this family from 
 their New-England home. As he was leaving them, 
 the villagers, some of them at least, seemed to relent, 
 and to understand and feel their loss. Many tears were 
 shed upon all sides. Mr. Mason himself found it was 
 a different thing from his imaginings, to break away 
 from such a place, where he had so long identified his 
 feelings with the joys and sorrows of the people ; where 
 
THE YOUNG BACKWOODSMAN. 1 7 
 
 he had prayed with so many sick, and followed so many 
 dead to their long home. His fair and loved wife, pale, 
 shrinking, and in tears, kissed her mother. The' chil 
 dren kissed their schoolmates. Old people said, " Good 
 bye, Mr. Mason ; pray for us ; we shall never see you 
 again." The children, their eyes red arid swollen with 
 weeping, were packed along with Mrs. Mason, with the 
 dilapidated but bulky baggage, into a two-horse wagon. 
 Young George sat forward, as driver. Amidst suppres 
 sed weeping, and almost inaudible farewells, with his 
 hat drawn over his eyes, George started his team. The 
 family dog saw that matters went wrong, and whined 
 piteously, as he followed the lingering steps of his 
 master, who walked behind the wagon, to indulge in 
 the sad luxury of the last look at his church-spire glit 
 tering in the sun-beams of a bright morning in autumn. 
 
 I trust there are few readers who cannot fill out the pic 
 ture of the feelings, trials, and accidents of such a family, 
 in their journey to the western hills. They can imagine, 
 how often the horses gave out, the harness broke, and the 
 carriage escaped upsetting. They can imagine, how often 
 the children cried with fatigue and sleepiness at night ; 
 and how fresh, alert, and gay they were, when setting out, 
 after a full breakfast, on a bright sunny morning ; how 
 often they were brought in contact with rough and un 
 feeling people 5 how often, in their tavern bills, and bills 
 for repairs, they dealt with harpies, eager to wrest from 
 them an unjust claim upon their scanty pittance. But 
 if they met with many painful occurrences on this long 
 route, there were many pleasant ones too. If the gul 
 lied road, or the rain-washed precipices rendered the 
 way almost impassable to their wagon, in other places 
 they found many miles in succession of pleasant travel 
 ling. On the whole, there were many more fair days 
 than stormy ones. George proved himself, for a boy 
 of his years, a firm and an admirable driver. While 
 he was whistling on the front of the wagon, and cheer 
 ing his horses, and the children were asleep among the 
 2* 
 
18 GEORGE MASON, 
 
 baggage, the husband and wife walked many a pleasant 
 mile, seating themselves occasionally for rest on the 
 breezy side of a hill or a mountain, and tracing back as 
 on a map, the dusty road, the river, the villages, spires, 
 mansions and groves, by which they had passed. Nor 
 will the feeling -and experienced traveller in this emi 
 grating march, fail to add to the picture the dog, repos 
 ing at their feet, whenever they rested. There is a 
 charm in the evershifting mountain and valley scenery, 
 on such a long route, that Mr. Mason felt in all its de 
 light. 
 
 In due time, and with the common experience of the 
 mixture of bitter and pleasant things, they had labored 
 over the last of the Alleghany hills ; had descended to 
 the Ohio; had sold, if sale it might be called, their wag 
 on and team ; had purchased a flat boat, and were 
 floating down the beautiful Ohio, which happened this 
 Autumn to be in an uncommonly fine stage for boating. 
 They had been wafted down that beautiful river, had 
 admired the forests, the vallies and bluffs, and the incipi 
 ent towns and villages, as they alternated on its long 
 course ; had encountered the sweeping and turbid 
 current of the Mississippi; had debarked at the Iron 
 Banks, and had hired a wagon to carry them out to 
 the settlement, where, as we have seen, Mr. Mason had 
 purchased the cabin and clearing, which he now inhab 
 ited. 
 
 Mr. Pindall and Mr. Garvin. from their wealth, the 
 number of their slaves, and from their possessing, along 
 with a drove of horses, four-wheeled carriages, which 
 were called coaches, were by estimation the distinguish 
 ed inhabitants of the settlement. Illiterate and rude as 
 they were, they perceived, and felt the character of their 
 new neighbours. An unpleasant sense of mental infe 
 riority at first awed them to a respectful kindness of 
 manner towards them ; and they evinced no little 
 pride in showing the new family, with their compara 
 tively polished manners, and their bright and beautiful 
 
THE YOUNG BACKWOODSMAN. ID 
 
 faces, as their guests. They gave them dinners, in 
 which there was no want of substantial good cheer ; 
 nor any deficiency of custards, delicious sweet potatoe 
 pies, and various wild fruits. Aware, that whiskey 
 would not be the beverage of Mr. Mason's choice, even 
 generous foreign wines were spread on the board. All 
 this was painful to the family ; for they were conscious 
 that it was not in their power to return the invitations 
 in kind, and that they could not expect long to preserve 
 the respect of such people, in this visible manifestation 
 of inferiority, in a point, which they would deem of so 
 much importance. It is, in fact, an unfortunate trait in 
 the character of people of that class, that they are un 
 duly delighted with every thing that is new ; and caress 
 recent emigrants for a while. As soon as they be 
 come thoroughly acquainted with them, they discover 
 something, which awakens envy, or comparison, and 
 begin to find fault with them ; circulate unfavorable 
 reports of them, and especially, if they are poor, com 
 bine to keep them down, and prevent their emerging 
 from their humiliation and poverty. 
 
 This view of the character of the settlers about them 
 soon began to disclose itself, and convince them that 
 there were babbling and disagreeable people else where, 
 than in New England. But their general circum 
 stances were so pleasant, and the romance of their con 
 dition still so fresh, during the winter that succeeded 
 their arrival, that Mr. Mason pronounced himself quite 
 as well satisfied with his new condition, as he had an 
 ticipated. Young George became at once a hunter of 
 considerable expertness. It is true, neither he nor his 
 father, in the phrase of the country, were "quite up" 
 to the mystery of hunting bears and deer. But, du 
 ring this winter, whatever the neighbours said of them 
 in private, they were externally kind, and sent them, in 
 presents, more venison and bear's-meat, than they could 
 consume. Whenever they chose, by rambling a few 
 hours, they could at any time bring home, for variety in 
 
20 GEORGE MASON, 
 
 their fare, wild ducks, squirrels, opossums, and rabbits. 
 The tea, coffee, and sugar, which they had brought with 
 them, it is true, were soon exhausted, and it did not suit 
 their scanty resources to replenish these articles. The 
 want at first, from the power of habit, was felt as a try 
 ing and painful privation. As a substitute, the milk of 
 a couple of cows, which they had purchased, and which 
 fed in the rich range near the house, furnished a bever 
 age more healthful and nutritive, if not so pleasant, as 
 that which they were compelled to renounce. 
 
 We have seen, that from ill health and discourage 
 ment Mr. Mason, when he left New England, had de 
 termined finally to renounce the public duties of his 
 profession. While he was still fresh in the acquaintance 
 and respect of the people in his new residence, in their 
 zeal to hear a new preacher, they wearied him with 
 solicitations to preach, until finally he consented. A 
 " preaching," as it is called, that creates any excitement, 
 is there not unlike an ordination in New England. 
 There is a simultaneous rush from all quarters, within 
 ten miles, to the spectacle. Mrs. Mason, who per 
 ceived from the excitement, what a show it was like to 
 prove, was compelled, poor woman, to task her utmost 
 powers, to fit up the sabbath dresses for the dear chil 
 dren, so as to enable them to make any tolerable ap 
 pearance, beside those of her rich neighbours. Eliza 
 would have been the pride of any mother. It went to 
 the heart of this mother to find, that, do all she could, 
 in the way of turning, and mending, and contriving, the 
 sweet child of her pride and her heart would show a 
 beautiful face and form under the disadvantage of a mean 
 and faded dress. Mr. Mason had comprehended the 
 tone of public feeling, and wished not to distinguish 
 himself by a dress for this occasion different from the 
 common one. In this single respect Mrs. Mason showed, 
 that she felt on this subject, as a woman. Forth came 
 the gorgeous and flowing silk cassock and surplice, and 
 about his neck were the large and well starched bands. 
 
THE YOUNG BACKWOODSMAN. 21 
 
 The important Sabbath dawned at length, and the peo 
 ple were seen, some on horseback, some on foot, some 
 in dearborns, and some in carriages, emerging from the 
 deep woods, in every direction, where an alley had 
 been opened through them. Mr. Mason and every 
 member of his family made their way on foot to the 
 place of worship, distant two miles and a half. It was 
 a large log building, on the verge of a gentle bluff, 
 whence issued two or three springs, which were en 
 closed in unheaded casks, and amply provided with 
 gourd shells for drinking vessels. The building within 
 was rough and capacious, and had an aspect, which I 
 should describe to no purpose to one, who has not seen 
 such a church. I shall only mention one peculiarity of 
 the structure. It was so contrived that in the cold 
 weather of winter, logs, sixteen feet in length, could be 
 drawn, or, as it is technically phrased, -snaked into 
 diurch and placed parallel to the mud-daubed wall, and 
 a fire kindled along the whole length. 
 
 The church was full to overflowing, and the display 
 of scarlet and coquelico dresses and artificial wreaths 
 and roses, contrasted their barbaric splendor strangely 
 with the huge logs in their native forms and dimensions, 
 that composed the walls ; and, in the mind of Mrs. Ma 
 son, with the cotton jackets of her boys, patched until 
 the original cloth could hardly be distinguished. But 
 had she been able to fathom the hearts of the collected 
 multitude, she would have discovered, that display of 
 dress is no passport to the hearts, if it is to the admira 
 tion of beholders. She would have discovered, that her 
 idolized little girl, in her plain and faded calico robe, 
 shrinking with modesty, and blushing like the morn, 
 was a hundred times more an object of interest, than 
 she would have been in all the glaring finery of the 
 rest. The uncommon beauty of the children, so habit 
 ed, excited no envy, and made itself more conspicu 
 ous by contrast. The brawny bosoms of Hercules Pin- 
 dall and Jethro Garvin, Sabbath though it was, were 
 
22 GEORGE MASON, 
 
 transfixed with the first look of this sweet girl of twelve 
 years, now just expanding like an opening rose-bud, 
 into the mature splendor of beauty. Well had it been 
 for Mr. Mason, too, if his ill fated cassock, surplice, 
 and bands had never been seen in that church. The 
 naughty woman of Babylon, in all her meretricious 
 trappings, could not have excited a more general and 
 unpleasant revulsion of feeling. The sermon, in fact, 
 was settled before hand. The audience, it is true, said 
 nothing on the spot ; but they looked with all their 
 eyes, and like the parrot, " thought the more." Mr. 
 Mason was, what we consider, a charming preacher. 
 He had voice, gesture, manner, tone, pathos, unction, 
 and deep thought. His heart was full in his discourses, 
 and a strain of solemn and earnest tenderness ran 
 through them, that deeply affects my heart in such an 
 exercise. The sermon, which he now delivered, was 
 one of his best. But he fought with the air, and af 
 forded a proof, that what is good and delightful in one 
 place, may be an abomination in another. The audience 
 expected, that before the close of his discourse, he 
 would have made the woods echo. They expected 
 some of those strong, coarse, and vehement appeals to 
 their feelings, interlarded with figures and colloquial 
 phrases and allusions, that were familiar to them, and 
 their peculiar ways of life. Mr. Mason was himself 
 affected with his own earnestness, and his eye moisten 
 ed, but none of his audience caught the infectious feel 
 ing. They heard him patiently to the end, and dis 
 persed, with their thoughts and words on a kind of 
 grumbling key. I am not sure that it would subserve 
 the cause of criticism, if I were able to relate all the 
 judgments that were passed upon the services, as the 
 people made their way home. Some said, that every 
 thing in the sermon was mixed up, like mush and milk. 
 Others said, that if that was college-learning preaching, 
 give them, for their money, old Mr. Dawson, emphati 
 cally denominated, " Thunderlungs." Some said, there 
 
THE YOUNG BACKWOODSMAN. *o 
 
 were too many long words, or, as they called them, 
 " Booktionary " words in it. Others said, that it was 
 not a searching discourse, and had no heart religion in it. 
 Others, and they were the most numerous class of critics, 
 said, it was a " mighty proud " sermon ; and one 
 and all agreed, that the cassock, and gown, &ic. 
 were right Roman concerns, and most of them conclud 
 ed, that he was a Roman Catholic. In short, every one 
 found fault with it in some way. An itinerant preacher 
 had been of the audience, too, and had most faithfully 
 espied out, and reported the nakedness of the land. 
 
 Mr. Mason was but a man, and as such, had expect 
 ed, no doubt, a very different result from this labored 
 effort. The real judgment of the audience made its 
 way slowly, but effectually, to him. He saw it in the 
 manifest coolness of the people, whom he met in the 
 ensuing week. A shrewd free mulatto woman, who 
 knew every body, and heard all that was going, called 
 upon Mrs. Mason, affecting some slight errand, but 
 really to undo the budget, and let her know the whole 
 amount of the comments upon her husband's preaching. 
 The mind of Mr. Mason was fixed at once, in regard 
 to his duty. He had been wearied into the effort by 
 solicitation. He had done his best ; and he determin 
 ed never to expose himself and his cause to the same 
 humiliation again. A few books and a favorite work, 
 which he was preparing for the press, afforded sufficient 
 occupation for all his leisure hours within, when the 
 weather, or other circumstances, forbade his working 
 abroad. 
 
 In his own family, as a substitute for public worship 
 on the Sabbath, he adopted a private course of wor 
 ship, blending interest and amusement with religious in 
 struction ; associating the highest exercises of the un 
 derstanding and the best affections of the heart, with 
 the tranquillizing and elevating pleasures of religion. 
 Prayers, instructions, select readings from the scrip 
 tures, tales calculated to excite moral reflection, and to 
 
24 GEORGE MASON, 
 
 foster tender and benevolent feelings, were read first by 
 the father, then the mother, and the children in suc 
 cession. Their understandings were exercised by ques 
 tions. The hearts were improved by representations 
 of the baseness and self-torment of pride, envy, and the 
 bad passions in general. One grand aim, in this wor 
 ship, was to represent the Almighty in that amiable 
 character, in which He shows himself in his word, and 
 in his works, and sedulously to shield their minds from 
 any associations with his being and providence, but 
 those of love, mercy, justice, goodness, and truth. It 
 closed with a kind of court of inquest, in which the pa 
 rents were judges, and the children witnesses. The 
 general tenor of the children's deportment, words, and 
 actions, during the past week, underwent a solemn re 
 view. The facts were proved. The character and 
 tendency of the actions pointed out ; the source whence 
 they had arisen, explained ; and if matter of reprehen 
 sion existed, what ought to have been said or done, in 
 the case, declared ; and, finally, praise and blame 
 were distributed, according to the merits of the actions. 
 None but those who have tested this discipline know its 
 admirable effects. 
 
 When these services were concluded, instead of 
 holding the children in durance, as a penal expiation to 
 the sanctity of the Sabbath, and weaving in their young 
 minds associations with it of austerity and gloom, as 
 soon as the ardors of the sun were quenched by his de 
 scent behind the forests, they walked together into the 
 woods. Every object in these walks was at once a 
 source of amusement and instruction, and a theme, 
 whence Mr. Mason did not fail to deduce new proofs 
 of the wisdom, mercy, and power of Him, who has 
 formed every thing by weight and by measure. The 
 moss, or the evergreen at the foot of the sycamore, the 
 parroquets settling on their branches to feed, the par 
 tridge flitting from their path, the eagle screaming in 
 the blue far above the summits of the trees, the car- 
 
 4 
 
THE YOUNG BACKWOODSMAN. 25 
 
 rion vultures, sailing round, and at times to the eye 
 seeming to lie still it? the air, as they scented intensely, 
 in the heights of the firmament, for their appropriate 
 food ; the squirrels skipping, and displaying themselves 
 in gambols, or evincing the impotent sauciness of their 
 pride ; the rahbit, starting from the cane-brake ; the va 
 riety of trees and shrubs in the wide forest ; the prodi 
 gious grape-vines, that climbed to their highest tops ; the 
 violets, even now at the commencement of winter, 
 starting into bloom ; the diversified seed capsules of 
 flowers, that had already come to maturity ; the various 
 starry forms of the gossamer down of seeds, sailing 
 slowly in the breeze ; in fine, every object, with which 
 they met, was sufficient to arrest the attention and in 
 terest of the family, and furnish a theme for a lecture 
 on natural history, or a warm and home-felt sermon on 
 the goodness and wisdom of the Almighty. The dis 
 sipated people of fashionable life do not await the re 
 turn of their nightly gaieties with more earnest expecta 
 tion than did this humble and lonely family their Sab 
 bath evening's walk in the woods. It is thus that minds 
 rightly constituted and trained, find everywhere amuse 
 ment and instruction. 
 
 Though they had delightful Sabbath walks in the 
 woods; though it was a source of constant amusement 
 to the parents to answer the thousand questions of their 
 children, raised by the novelty of the objects in their 
 walks ; though the illusive veil, which imagination 
 spreads over an unexplored region, still rested upon the 
 country, we must not infer that they were all the time 
 happy, and had not an abundant mixture of bitter with 
 their pleasant things, it belongs to earth to have this 
 mixture, and they were not exempt from the portion of 
 man everywhere under the sun. On their return from 
 this evening walk, there was no tea, no coffee, to ex 
 hilarate their evening conversations, and to satisfy the 
 cravings of long habit. The family often visited their 
 neighbours by invitation. The rustic abundance and 
 3 
 
26 GEORGE MASON, 
 
 the varied comforts, which were seen there, the re 
 sult of a rich soil, and the labor of slaves, contrasted but 
 unfavorably with their own stinted resources. Mrs. 
 Mason was herself still young and pretty, and her fading 
 dress showed to greater disadvantage, beside the gaudy 
 expensiveness of the appearance of their host. Eliza, 
 now beginning to feel conscious upon these points, was 
 dragged to these visits as to a sacrifice. Her very heart 
 ached to introduce her barefooted little ones among the 
 Creole children, who instinctively held up their red mo 
 rocco shoes to provoke a comparison. It was now pal 
 pable, too, that if there were parties and divisions and 
 heart-burnings in New-England from one cause, there 
 were here the same evils in a different and more aggra 
 vated form. The same innate seeds of evil temper 
 produced the same kind of trials, the more galling, be 
 cause they were not yet broken to them as they had 
 been to the other. 
 
 In this climate, every one has remarked the human 
 form, intellect, and passions develope more early than in 
 the north. Vacant lands of the greatest fertility can 
 be had at pleasure. All that is necessary for the com 
 mencement of a new married couple is, teams, imple- 
 -ments of agriculture, and a few servants. To build the 
 bouses, quarters, and stables of the establishment, is but 
 the work of a few days, and the foundation is laid for 
 rustic opulence and indolence. The amusements of 
 the husbands are hunting, shooting at a mark, horse- 
 racing, elections, cards, and drinking; and of the wives, 
 dances, parties, and tracasserie. Education and men 
 tal discipline, so far from being necessary or in request, 
 are in the few cases, where they occur, matters to ex 
 cite envy nnd ridicule. Of course, having nothing to 
 learn, and little to acquire, they marry early. I have, 
 more than once, seen mothers of fourteen.. It need not, 
 therefore, be matter of surprise, that Hercules Pratfall 
 did not conceal his fondness for Eliza Mason, consider 
 ed by her parents no more than a child. Nor will those 
 
THE YOUNG BACKWOODSMAN. 27 
 
 who know the ways of the country, admire, that this 
 young giant completely ruled his father, who ruled the 
 settlement. It soon came to the ears of Mrs. Mason 
 that this enamoured Cyclops would make proposals for 
 her daughter. This supposed good fortune was matter of 
 envy to the other mothers and daughters, nor did it oc 
 cur to them that she would be disposed, or even dare 
 to reject this alliance, should it be proposed. The 
 prospect that it would be, was a source of serious ap 
 prehension to them. 
 
28 GEORGE MASON, 
 
 CHAPTER III. 
 
 " For him no more the blazing hearth shall burn, 
 Or busy housewife ply her evening care ; 
 No children run to lisp their sire's return, 
 Or climb his knees the envied kiss to share." 
 
 To meet these evils they had one grand resource 
 beside religion. We would to God that every family in 
 the world had the same. Nearly one half of the misery 
 of our earth comes from selfishness and disunion in fami 
 lies. The heads care not for each other or their children. 
 The members have no sympathies in common. The 
 voice of angry jangling, dispute, and separate interest is 
 heard in the family dwelling. Good angels scatter not 
 their blessings in such habitations. Such was not this 
 family. Their evening union was one of peace, love, 
 and joy. Every one, even to their youngest boy, 
 brought love and good feeling to the common stock. 
 From the heads to the youngest member, whoever 
 touched one touched the whole. There was no onQ 
 of the number that had been taught to sit down and 
 brood over his selfish joys by himself. The bright 
 evening fire was kindled. The Bible was read. They 
 prayed together, and each one of these affectionate in 
 mates loved each other one, as he loved his own soul. 
 This mutual affection shone in every look and action. 
 The mother loved her husband and her children with 
 an affection almost guilty and idolatrous. Nor were 
 protestations of similar feelings on the part of the hus 
 band and the father at all necessary. The unity and 
 beauty of this mutual attraction, if the comparison 
 might not seem too learned, was like that of the sun for 
 all the planets in our system, which, in their turn, and 
 according to their size and importance, exercise an at 
 traction back again upon their centre. When th.e mem 
 bers of a family really and sincerely love one another, 
 
THE YOUNG BACKWOODSMAN. 29 
 
 this alone is food and raiment, and society, and cheer 
 fulness, and every ihing. To such ja family external 
 sorrows and troubles are what weight is, pressing upon 
 an arch, the strength of which increases with the 
 amount of pressure applied. But when to poverty and 
 trouble and evil report and sickness, are added selfish 
 ness, jarring, disputing, and quarrelling within, I know 
 not how the members of such a family can sustain life. 
 With this resource, notwithstanding their passing dis 
 quietudes and vexations, the winter wore away comfort 
 ably and pleasantly. On every fine sunshine day Mr. 
 Mason was seen along with young George before the sun 
 beams kad dispersed the frost, girdling the trees. The 
 latter had his little axe and grubbing-hoe, cutting down 
 the smaller trees, and grubbing up the shrubs by their 
 roots, delighted with the mellow appearance and the 
 healthy smell of the virgin mould. A hundred times his 
 delight was excited by seeing the gray and black squir-* 
 rels skip away from the trees which he began to fell. The 
 parroquets, in their splendid livery of green and gold, 
 were fluttering about among the sycamores, raising their 
 shrill scream, as disagreeable as their plumage is bril 
 liant, and seemed to be scolding at these meddlers with 
 the freshness of their empire. The red-bird, springing 
 away from the briar copse, which he began to disturb 
 with his grubbing-hoe ; the powerful mocking-bird seat 
 ed at its leisure on a dead branch, and pouring its gay 
 song, and imitating every noise that was heard ; the 
 loud and joyous bark of the family dog, as he was pur 
 suing his own sport beside them, digging for an opos 
 sum ; the morning crow of the cock ; the distant cry of 
 the hounds in the settlement, ringing through the for 
 ests ; the morning mists, lying like the finest drapery of 
 muslin, spread over the tops of the trees ; these, and a 
 thousand mingled and joyous morning cries of animals 
 in the woods, filled his young and susceptible heart 
 with the purest joy. Excitement and the fulness of joy 
 often arrested his axe and his grubbing-hoe. The 
 
30 
 
 GEORGE MASON, 
 
 father once saw him musing in this way, and asked 
 him of what he was thinking. 
 
 " I cannot tell you," replied George, laying his hand 
 upon his bosom, " how glad I feel -here, this morning. 
 When I see the sun slanting his light along the white 
 arms of the sycamores, and hear the birds sing, and 
 every thing so gay, I cannot tell you how happy I am. 
 How different is all this from January in New-England ! 
 Yet, glad as I feel here, I cannot forget th^old church 
 and the grave-yard, and the school-house, and my 
 school-mates. Oh ! if one could be here, and there at 
 the same time ! Before the people came here it was 
 all woods, without people. Yet, I suppose, the birds 
 sung as sweetly then as now." 
 
 " Undoubtedly, my son," answered the father. " This 
 forest was a temple of God as soon as the waters flow 
 ed, and the trees were green, as much as now. All 
 these joyous sounds, which you hear, were the morning 
 praises of the Almighty. Who knows but His angels 
 feel the same joy at contemplating these green solitudes 
 which we do ? There may be eyes to see, and ears to 
 hear in these forests, which we cannot behold." 
 
 In such conversations and such pursuits passed away 
 the morning, until breakfast. 
 
 When the labor of clearing was resumed after break 
 fast, the mother and Eliza came out, attended by the 
 younger children, and looked on the work as they sat 
 knitting on the logs beside the clearing. The crash of 
 a falling tree was a grand object of awaited excitement 
 and terror to them. Henry, a fine stout boy of ten, 
 had already obtained permission to take his share in 
 these labors. Not unfrequently the whole group of 
 laborers would suspend their toils from laughter, to see 
 him tug upon the branch of a shrub, catching by its points 
 upon others and pulling him back, delighted to see his 
 little cheeks flush with pride and exercise, and to note 
 the promise of future perseverance in seeing him tug 
 until he had overcome the resistance and added it to 
 the pile. 
 
THE YOUNG BACKWOODSMAN. 31 
 
 After sunset it was a high treat to the children to fire 
 the huge piles of dry bushes and logs, heaped for burn 
 ing, and see the flames rising above the tops of the 
 highest trees, gleaming in the forests, enlightening every 
 object as far as they could see, and disturbing the owls 
 and roosting birds from their retreats. The noise of 
 the bursting cane-stalks was like the report of a thou 
 sand guns, and they called these evening fires their 
 celebrations.* Not but there were discouragements and 
 difficulties even in this work of clearing. Mr. Mason 
 was both unused to labor and feeble in health. A sin 
 gle Mississippi sycamore of the larger size, afforded 
 three days' occupation for his best exertions to cut 
 down. Of course he was compelled to allow all the 
 larger trees to stand in his clearing, only deadening 
 them by girdling. His taste on this as on every sub 
 ject, was severe to a morbid excess. How it grieved 
 him to see his rich and level field marred in its appear 
 ance by a hundred huge, standing, dead trees, and the 
 broken limbs and branches, that the wind was constantly 
 detaching from them to the ground. It was trying to 
 his pride, too, to have one of his coarse neighbour plant 
 ers regard his work with a sneer of affected pity, ex 
 pressed in conversation something like this : <; Why, 
 doctor, if you do not get a greater force you will have 
 a field hardly large enough for a truck patch. One of 
 my negroes will cut away more trees in d day than 
 you would in a month. Doctor, you want some ne 
 groes." But he generally took especial care not to 
 oiler their services. 
 
 But the severest of the whole experiment was split 
 ting rails. This was a task absolutely beyond the 
 strength of young George. The kind-hearted boy was 
 assiduous to hand the wedges and the maul to his ex 
 hausted father. In this most laborious business there is 
 a dexterity to be learned only by practice. Many a 
 tree, cut down \vith great labor, would not split at all. 
 It was long beTore Mr. Mason, with his utmost exer- 
 
32 GEORGE MASON, 
 
 tions, could make twenty-five in a day. It did not 
 help the matter to.be told by those who looked on his 
 work, that one hundred and fifty a day was the regular 
 task of each one of their negroes. At night the father's 
 hands were one blister. Poor George could count his 
 blisters too. Mrs. Mason bound up their sore hands, 
 and turned away her face to conceal her tears. The 
 severe toil, too, caused Mr. Mason rheumatic pains and 
 sleepless nights. He found, moreover, when stormy 
 weather confined him to the house, that a body full of 
 the pains of exhausting labor, would not allow scope to 
 his thoughts, when he sat down to his great work with 
 his pen. Unremitting toil, in such a frame, blunts the 
 sensibilities, suspends the exercise of the imagination 
 and fancy, and after a fruitless effort to stir up his 
 thoughts, he was compelled to admit, that severe labor 
 and writing are incompatible. But neither the voice of 
 complaining nor of dejection was heard ;^for in this fam 
 ily there was union, mutual affection, prayer, confidence 
 in God, and the hope of immortality. 
 
 The middle of March was soon at hand ; and in this 
 climate it is the dawn of Spring. The wilderness be 
 gan to be gay. The Red Bud in a thousand places 
 was one compact tuft of peach-blow flowers. The um 
 brella tops of the Dogwoods were covered with their 
 large blossoms of brilliant white. At every step the 
 feet trampled on clusters of violets. The swelling buds 
 and the half formed leaves diffused on every side the? 
 delicious aroma of Spring. The labors of Mr. Mason 
 had been slow and painful, but they had been constant 
 and persevering. A little every day soon makes a 
 great result. In four months the clearing was increas 
 ed from six to nine acres, which were well fenced and 
 prepared for planting. The surface of the soil was 
 black, rich, and perfectly tender. It was a pleasant 
 novelty to him to plant corn without ploughing, and 
 among thick deadened trees, reaching almost to the 
 clouds. The field was laid out in rows in right lines, 
 
THE YOUNG BACKWOODSMAN. 33 
 
 by taking sight from one tree to another. The father 
 went before, making a hole for the corn with his hoe. 
 George followed dropping the corn, and covering it 
 with -his. Eliza, with her face shaded by her large sun 
 bonnet, and Henry with his broad straw hat, with little 
 bags pinned to their sides, walked beside George and 
 his father. They carried beans, the seeds of pump 
 kins, squashes, cucumbers, and the different kinds of 
 melons, to hand to each, where a place offered, that 
 seemed suitable to these seeds. A garden, or, as the 
 people call it, a truck patch, was also prepared, and 
 sowed, and planted with such seeds and transplanted 
 vegetables as their more considerate neighbours taught 
 them, were congenial to the soil and climate, or would 
 be luxuries in the summer, or capable of being pre 
 served through the winter. 
 
 The violent thunderstorms of that climate and season 
 were at first a source of alarm to the family. They 
 trembled as they heard the thunder echoing through 
 the forests, and saw the lightning firing the high, dead 
 trees. They soon perceived that the thunderbolts fell 
 harmless to the earth. Their ears became accustomed 
 to the crash, and the beautiful mornings, that ensued, 
 hailed by all the birds of spring, and embalming the air 
 with the mingled ambrosia of the forest, more than 
 compensated for the passing terrors of the night. 
 There are a few, and I could wish there were many lov 
 ers of nature, who will be able to comprehend the en 
 joyment of this family, on visiting their field the first Sab 
 bath after their crop had fully come up. It is a delightful 
 spectacle to any one that has eyes and a heart. But 
 this family loved nature with a keen relish for her pleas 
 ures. It was the promise of future support to a family 
 that had nothing else on which to depend. It promised 
 future subsistence and comfort to all they loved on 
 earth. It was cultivated vegetation, just sprung up 
 on the wild soil, where nothing but weeds and bush 
 es had flourished from the creation. I enter into their 
 
34 GEORGE MASON, 
 
 delight, as their eye caught the straight stems of the 
 corn, rising in lines that already marked the rows with 
 a strength of vegetation and a depth of verdure, which 
 they had never seen corn wear before. Parents and 
 children gazed with unsated eagerness upon the melons 
 and cucumbers, starting up with leaves broader arid 
 fresher than any they had ever beheld in New-England, 
 There they required great care in preparing the hills, 
 and laborious attention to the kind and amount of the 
 manure. Here they were barely deposited in the vir 
 gin soil. There, in March, the ground was still cover 
 ed with snow. Here, these vegetables had already 
 thrown out the second leaves. The inspection of the 
 sweet potatoe patch, which was large, and the hills of 
 which had been prepared with great care, was a source 
 of still more gratifying curiosity. The family were ex 
 ceedingly fond of this nutritious vegetable, and had 
 never seen it growing. There are some minds so con 
 stituted, as to imagine with what gratified observation, 
 they watched the unfolding stem, and the first develop 
 ment of the leaves of this beautiful creeper. 
 
 The season was f-i^or^.b!^ and. their c rnn came for 
 ward to their utmost hopes. To watch its daily ad 
 vance was a constant source of amusement. But the 
 sad leaven of sorrow and discouragement remained at 
 the botom of the cup. The high heats of the new cli 
 mate began to make themselves felt early in April. 
 The lassitude that ensued was a new sensation to the 
 family, at first scarcely unpleasant. But the increase 
 of this lassitude, as the season and the heat advanced, 
 became a source of disheartening apprehension to Mr. 
 Mason. A half an hour's labor in his field, after the 
 sun was^fully up, completely drenched him in perspira 
 tion, and left him powerless to renew his labor, until 
 after he had rested an hour on his mattrass. The 
 reasoning of his inward apprehension was, If such be 
 the effect of p.n April sun, what will be that of July and 
 August? Had he been aware of the wise and kind 
 
THE YOUNG BACKWOODSMAN. 35 
 
 plan of Providence, in the process of acclimation, he 
 would have dismissed all fears upon this head, and 
 would have so accommodated himself to the impercep 
 tible change of the season, as to have been prepared to 
 meet the high heats of July and August with as little 
 inconvenience as he felt from those of April. 
 
 Their neighbours, now grown familiar with them, had 
 broken through the first unconscious restraint, arising 
 from feeling the difference of their education and char 
 acter. The respect extorted from them by this com 
 parison, once laid aside, their feelings naturally vibrated 
 to the other extreme. The natural dignity of their 
 manner was now called pride and self-importance. "If 
 they were such great people," it was remarked, "that 
 nobody must speak to them, except with such respect, 
 why did such poor folks come away from a country, 
 where people knew what was due to them ? S( range, 
 that they, who had to work like negroes, should hold 
 their heads so high ! It was mighty pretty to see Mrs. 
 Mason and Eliza look so grand, merely because they 
 were a little fairer than the Creoles." When Mr. Ma 
 son did preach, he was proud of his college learning, 
 and had no religion ; and when he did not preach, it 
 was because he was lazy, and never cared any thing 
 about it from the first. There were two or three wick 
 ed babblers among them, who answered in this settle 
 ment the purposes of newspapers elsewhere, who be 
 gan to whisper stories, " that the old man," as they 
 called Mr. Mason, " had been driven out of the coun 
 try for slandering the President and passing counterfeit 
 money !" The effect of these conversations was soon 
 visible to the family, in the cool contemptuousness and 
 the rude familiarity of their manners toward them. 
 Many an hour did the family spend in vain conjectures 
 what could be the cause of this. As these stories re 
 mained uncontradicted, ihe propagators began to gather 
 boldness. One of them, aware that the family knew 
 not the specific charges against them, and desiring that 
 
36 GEORGE MASON, 
 
 they should have a full taste of the bitterness, officiously 
 pretending kindness and sincerity, divulged the whole 
 story, and told them with many an ingenious added 
 comment of his own, all that was said of them. 
 
 It does not need much knowledge of human nature 
 to know what kind of torment the general circulation of 
 such reports would naturally create in the bosoms of a 
 high-minded famHy, with a keen sense of honor. They 
 had a long debate in conclave upon the question, what 
 was proper to be done in the case, and whether it 
 was better to take any steps to vindicate themselves. 
 In the close of the argument upon which Mr. and Mad 
 am Mason, and George, and Eliza, had each given an 
 opinion, it was unanimously settled, that people, who 
 could invent and circulate such falsehoods, would in 
 vent and circulate another brood if these were refuted, 
 and that it was wise and right to treat the whole affair 
 with sitent contempt. All said that the inventors were 
 people not worth the trouble of attempting to disprove 
 what they said. The meeting broke up by a mutual 
 agreement of each member, to meet the propagators of 
 these stories as before, and to think and to care noth 
 ing about the slanders. But while we are in the flesh, 
 we shall always feel as in the flesh. These high-spir 
 ited children promised to forget, and the more they at 
 tempted to do it the more deeply the remembrance and 
 the humiliation rankled in their bosoms. Time is the 
 only efficacious remedy for such evils. 
 
 Midsummer already furnished their table with green 
 corn and the common table vegetables of the season in 
 ample abundance. But their joy in view of the pros 
 pects of their crops was damped by observing, that as 
 the summer heals advanced, the health of Mr. Mason 
 more visibly sunk under the influence of the season. 
 He could no longer labor abroad more than an hour in 
 the day, and that must be in the morning before the 
 sun was above the trees. The heavy dews which lay 
 like rain upon the leaves of the corn, and the rank 
 
THE YOUNG BACKWOODSMAN. 37 
 
 weeds, were found scarcely less noxious to his health, 
 when necessarily drenched by them, than the heats of 
 the sun. Young George, fully comprehending the case, 
 labored from morning until night to spare his father, 
 and to keep down the weeds. It discouraged him to 
 see, that more grew up in a night, than he could cut 
 down in a day. 
 
 In attempting to work with his son in the sweet- 
 potatoe patch on the fourteenth of July, under the in 
 fluence of a powerful sun, Mr. Mason expeiienced a 
 sun-stroke, and was aided to his bed by the united ex 
 ertions of his whole family. For three hours he was 
 not expected to survive from one moment to another. 
 I do not design, nor wish to attempt, to describe the 
 agony of the family, during this interval. He, who 
 knows how they loved one another, can imagine it. 
 There are events, too, which bring upon the mind the 
 stupefaction of a thunder-stroke, and it was only when 
 Mr. Mason exhibited manifest signs of being out of im 
 mediate danger, that tears were shed in this family. 
 
 He slowly revived until the evening. At the hour in 
 which he had been accustomed to lead in evening 
 prayers, after informing the children that he was too 
 weak to do it this evening, he requested them to retire 
 into George's house, as the smaller cabin was called. 
 He then held a long and solemn conversation with Mrs. 
 Mason alone. A thousand of those tender things, which 
 are appropriate to such conversations, were said upon 
 both sides. They were such things as such a husband 
 would naturally say, in such circumstances, to a wife 
 so loved, and who had been for so many years the 
 faithful and inseparable companion of his toils, who was 
 the mother of his children, who was at once so destitute 
 and helpless, and whom he felt he was about to leave 
 to the sole care of his five children. I know that such 
 circumstances are occurring somewhere every hour 5 
 but if the bare recounting them does not make my 
 reader feel the situation of Mr. Mason, I am aware, 
 4 
 
38 GEORGE MASON, 
 
 that nothing, which I can say, will do it. Having; made 
 many of those remarks, touching his situation, and hers, 
 and his wishes in regard to her and the children for 
 the future, she rallied fortitude to ask, why he chose to 
 make such remarks at this lime. 
 
 * Bee use, Eliza," he replied calmly, and taking her 
 hand, " I am convinced I shall never rise from the ill 
 ness which this disaster has occasioned me." 
 
 IVIrs. Mason aswered him with tears, embraces, and 
 denials, and an extravagance of grief, which soon spent 
 itself hy its own excess. He replied calmly, that, " ra 
 tional beings were bound by every consideration to take 
 a forecasting contemplation of great changes of condi 
 tion that were certainly before them, and that it much 
 more became such persons as they were, to foresee the 
 evils before them, and forearm themselves against them, 
 than to shut their eyes, like children, upon consequen 
 ces, and shrink from duty, through the enervating influ 
 ence of grief/' He inculcated again and again upon 
 his wife, sobbing upon his bosom, that he now felt it 
 had been the fault of them both, that they had fostered 
 a morbid and shrinking temperament, the effect of 
 which had been to unnerve them, and unfit them for 
 the sterner duties of life He solemnly insisted upon an 
 absolute trust in the sustaining and gracious care of the 
 Almighty, and he placed before her the guilt of distrust 
 ing the love and the mercy of Him, " who noteth the 
 fall of a sparroiv, and heareth the young ravens, when 
 they cry ! " 
 
 " Dear Eliza," he continued, " I am aware that after 
 I am first gone, it will be to no purpose, to expect you 
 to be wise and firm at once. You know where I am 
 to rest, under the sycamore. Come there, and think 
 of the days which we have spent together) and give 
 scope to the first bursts of grief. The wise and the 
 unchangeable laws of Providence will prevent my being 
 visible to you. But I feel that in whatever place and 
 in whatever manner the All Gracious and All Good 
 
THE YOUNG BACKWOODSMAN. 
 
 39 
 
 shall dispose of me, ibis mind and this heart must lose 
 their identity, if I should cease to love you and my 
 children less than I do now. Nor w 11 He, who gave 
 me this spirit, so imprison it as that I shall not be able 
 to descend to the summits of the forest, to look in upon 
 you in the morning, and to cheer you to the duty of 
 watching over our children. I cannot now foresee 
 what you will do for subsistence, or how you will be 
 able to rear our dear helpless children among these 
 rough and wicked people. But 1 have seen a thousand 
 times that God never forsakes them, who do not forsake 
 themselves. You know my motto, " Nil despeiandum" 
 You have heard me repeat it a thousand times. 1 am 
 fully conscious that I have acted too little in the spirit 
 of this motto myself. I have prayed God a hun 
 dred times, that my children, and especially my dear 
 George, may be of a firmer spirit than I have had. 
 Perhaps I have done wrong to bring you here. It is 
 useless now to spend time in mourning over what is ir 
 retrievable. Besides, at the time of coming to the de 
 cision, to bring you here, I called in aid all the reason 
 and forecast that I possessed to the deliberation. With 
 rny temperament and under the same circumstances, I 
 should, probably, come to the same determination 
 again. 1 know you are too kind not to forgive what 
 was done for the best, even if it were wrong. I think, 
 too, had it pleased God to spare me a few years, that 
 I should have become comfortable in my circumstan 
 ces, and should have felt, that I had done wisely in 
 seeking independence in this way. As regards the fu 
 ture, I thank God, that my mind is fixed and settled. 
 I shall resign my spirit in humble confidence to Him 
 who gave it, thanking Him, that through his dear Son, 
 my Saviour, I have not an axiety about it ; but am 
 humbly confident, that in His own gracious way, and in 
 the mansion fitted for it, He will render me happy." 
 
 To such conversations, which, to say the truth, so 
 far as respected his impressions, that he should not re- 
 
40 GEORGE MASON, 
 
 cover, she had ofton listened before, Mrs. Mason could 
 only reply, that she had frequently seen him dis 
 couraged in the same way, and ihat she had found him 
 recover notwithstanding ; that she did not allow herself 
 to doubt for a moment, that he would recover now ; 
 that she was ready to promise, if she survived him, that 
 she would do the best she could ; and that she was very 
 sure, that the best would be so unworthily, that he had 
 much better live, and see to the management of the 
 family himself. Thus this solemn conversaiion termi 
 nated ; he assuring her, that he felt his present case 
 different from any thing he had ever experienced be 
 fore ; and she, the more earnestly she was urged to 
 promise him to be courageous and resigned after he 
 was gone, returning to the beaten track of former 
 thought and conversation, and warning him that the only 
 way to give her courage was, to promise her to get 
 well. 
 
 This event occurred on Saturday. During that night 
 he was feverish and restless. Although, as she remark 
 ed, Mrs. Mason had often heard him assert, in his 
 periodical turns of ill heath and discouragement, that he 
 should never recover, she felt this night more than 
 usually ahrmed respecting him. While he lay delirious, 
 and breathing thick and pantingly, in short and disturbed 
 slumbers, the dreadful thought presented itself to her, 
 for the first time, that the husband of her youth was 
 about to leave her. The loneliness and destitution of 
 her case, in .such a country, and with the care of so 
 many helpless children, came upon her mind in all the 
 gloorn and dismay of the scene. Those deep and 
 bitter meditations, with which strangers do not inter 
 meddle, passed rapidly within. There is but one abid 
 ing resource in cases like these. Happy, and thrice 
 happy they, who can resort to it with humble bold 
 ness. Mrs. Mason had that happiness. She often and 
 earnestly wrestled with God for her dear husband, if it 
 were possible, that the cup of death might pass from 
 
THE YOUNG BACKWOODSMAN. 41 
 
 him. For herself she prayed, " Our Father, who art 
 in heaven! in this my extreme distress and dismay, 
 Thou only canst help. My husband, each of my dear 
 children, and myself, owe Thee a death. Give us re 
 signation and confidence, meekly to pay it in thine 
 own time and way. Only do Thou, in thy great mercy, 
 sustain us, while we are here, and when we depart, do 
 Thou save our souls." 
 
 Next day Mr. Mason had strong fever and shortness of 
 breathing, and was wholly unable to rise from his bed. 
 The heat of the. season was intense, and the exhausting 
 ardors of the dog-star were in the sky. The paleness 
 of foreboding anxiety was spread over every counte 
 nance in the family. The physician resided at the 
 distance of eight miles, and Mr.. Mason affirmed, that 
 his complaint was of a kind to receive no advantage 
 from his aid, and he was wholly unwilling that they 
 should incur the useless expense of sending for him. 
 Mrs. Mason allowed him to believe that his wishes 
 should be fulfilled, and resorted to the innocent decep- 
 ' tion of sending for a physician, without apprising him of it. 
 George promptly offered to take the trace through the 
 woods to the bank of the Mississippi, where the physi 
 cian resided. Henry begged to be allowed to attend 
 him. A pretext was invented, to account to Mr. Mason 
 for their absence through the day. A maternal tear 
 stood in the eye of Mrs. Mason as she kissed them, and 
 bade them make haste, arid not return without bringing 
 the doctor. A trip of sixteen miles, through dark 
 forests, in which they would not pass a single house, 
 was an exploit sufficiently daunting for two such young 
 and inexperienced boys. Love triumphs over fear and 
 death ; and these boys so dearly loved their father, that 
 nothing was formidable to them, which they could do 
 for him. Such conversations passed between these 
 affectionate boys, as might be expected from their years, 
 their errand, and the forests through which they passed. 
 Little Henry was afraid of the wolves, bears, and pan- 
 4* 
 
42 GEORGE MASON, 
 
 thers. More than once he cried with the soreness of 
 his feet. Their thoughts naturally tended to despond 
 ence. Once they lost their way, mistaking a cow-path 
 for their trace. None can tell, if they would not have 
 vyandered into the inextricable tangle of the swamps, 
 and have perished, had they not providentially been 
 met by a man hunting his cattle on horseback. He, 
 seeing them wandering on towards the swamps, naturally 
 comprehended their mistake, and led them back, and 
 put them on the right way. They arrived at length on the 
 ban.ks of the river, and told their tale of distress. The 
 physician was absent, not to return until night. They 
 received the promise, that he should be sent on imme 
 diately upon his return. The people of the house, 
 where the doctor boarded, pitied them, and received 
 them kindly. They gave them a glass of milk and a 
 slice of corn bread. But nothing could induce the af 
 fectionate children to tarry longer than half an hour. They 
 insisted upon starting back to see how their dear father 
 was. The hour of their return was that of burning noon j 
 but their road was one continued covert of shade. Be 
 sides, such children as these always find the road home 
 easier to travel, than that from home. The loneliness of 
 the way, and their apprehensions from the wild beasts, 
 and their fears of getting lost again, took from them the 
 disposition to converse much on the way. They pushed 
 on at the extent of their walking speed, casting fearful 
 glances among the bushes, as birds, or small animals 
 disturbed them. They had arrived in this way, as they 
 judged, within three miles of home, when the fatigue of 
 the way, and exhaustion from the heat, compelled them 
 to sit down and rest themselves. 
 
 They reclined themselves on a patch of wild grass at 
 the foot of a tree. The cheering thought, that they 
 were so near home, restored to them courage and a dis 
 position to converse, and the following conversation 
 passed between them. 
 
 Henry. " My feet are not half so sore coming back, 
 
THE YOUNG BACKWOODSMAN. 43 
 
 as they were on the way out to the river. Why should 
 they ache less now, than they did then?" 
 
 George. " It must he because we love home and 
 the folks there so dearly, that love pushes us on, and 
 keeps us from feeling the soreness." 
 
 Henry. " Yes ; that is just the case. Dear George, 
 I am forced to shut rny eyes, whenever I think how 
 papa looked. I never saw him look so before, nor 
 mama seem so strange. Do you know what is the 
 matter ?" 
 
 George. " Indeed I do not. But I heard him tell 
 mother last night, that he was certainly going to die." 
 
 Henry, (beginning to cry.) " Father shan't die. If he 
 does, Henry will die too. How came he to come away 
 to this wicked country to die ? When he dies, we shall 
 all starve to death here in the woods, and the wolves 
 will come into the house, and eat us. I am sure the 
 wicked people that talked against papa, would not give 
 us a slice of bread, to keep us from starving." 
 
 George. " Henry, don't talk so to me. I feel it in 
 my heart to hate the people there in New-England, that 
 drove us away to this wild country. I could speak just 
 such words about them, as the wicked people used in 
 the boat, when we carne down the river. Oh ! it is too 
 bad, to think what will become of dear little Bill and 
 Tom, and mother, sister and all, when father dies. 
 I should rather a thousand times we might all die to 
 gether." 
 
 The boys were tired. The evening and the hour of 
 discouragement was coming upon them. Henry sob 
 bed, as if his heart would break. George, too, who 
 had been praised in the family for his strength of char 
 acter, was unnerved, to see his brother cry, and the tears 
 coursed one another down his cheeks. They had both 
 indu'ged in this way for some time, when George, sum 
 moning courage, sprang on his feet, kissed his brother, 
 and wiped his eyes. " Get up, Henry, and leave off 
 crying. We can't die but once, thank God. How 
 
44 
 
 GEORGE MASON, 
 
 often has father said over his Latin words to us, which 
 mean, ' Don't give up the ship.' I am getting strong, 
 you see. I feel that I am to be a man. I love my 
 dear father better than rny eyes. But, you know, he 
 is always sick. It is a hard thing to think, that my 
 poor father must die.; but then lie will be sick no more, 
 and will be happy in heaven. Never fear. I will take 
 care of all, when he is gone. To take care of mother, 
 and the rest of you, I would work like a slave, and be 
 stronger than a lion. Don't cry any more, Henry ; 
 father will get well, when the doctor conies. While 
 he is sick, I will work harder, and take care of you all." 
 Saying this, he looked cheerful, and took his brother by 
 the hand, and raised him up, embraced him, and kissed 
 him again and again, and talked to him in a voice so 
 firm and cheering, that Henry caught something of his 
 courage and cheerfulness, and rose up, and they re 
 sumed their way, taking each other by the hand. Shortly 
 after they arrived safely at home. 
 
 The physician in due time arrived, and expressed no 
 certain opinion in reference to the case of his patient. 
 Hope and fear alternately swayed the family for some 
 days, and. they endured the wearing agony of suspense. 
 Mr. Mason was sometimes better, and sometimes worse, 
 and as happens to nervous people, was elevated, or 
 depressed in his mind, according to his passing feelings: 
 Sometimes he was encouraged to think he might recover 
 speedily ; and in an hour afterwards was in complete 
 despondency. Perhaps he might have recovered, had 
 he been able to obtain the common comforts which his 
 case required. But the depressing heat of the season 
 was against him. Affection and ingenuity devised every 
 thing that the field, the garden, or the woods could 
 yield, in the way of sustenance, or medicine. But 
 neither affection nor ingenuity can create from nothing ; 
 and a hundred things, so necessary to the comfort and 
 recovery of a sick man, like him, were absolutely out 
 of the question in that place. Every one of the family 
 
THE YOUNG BACKWOODSMAN. 45 
 
 seemed completely vanquished with grief and dejec 
 tion, but George. Since his return from the river to 
 procure the physician, his character appeared to have 
 undergone an entire transformation. He alone shed no 
 tears. He looked thoughtful, but wa=; always calm. 
 It was sufficiently evident, at the same time, that this 
 apparently strange conduct, in an inexperienced boy of 
 fourteen, who had been hitherto supposed to possess 
 the keenest sensibility, did not at all result from want 
 of feeling; but from a high purpose, and a fixed de 
 termination, not to allow grief and discouragement to 
 unnerve him from his duty. His thoughts appeared 
 constantly occupied in invei,ting some kind of food, or 
 drink, that might be strengthening or pleasant to his 
 father. He seemed at once to be endowed with cour 
 age, vigilance, and patience for watching with him, and 
 the skill and management cf a nurse to take care of 
 him. It was affecting, to see with what heroism, zeal, 
 and tenderness this noble boy discharged offices, some 
 times laborious, sometimes disagreeable, and always 
 trying to the patience and fortitude even of professed 
 attendants upon the sick. It was love that taught him, 
 and every where, and in all trials, love can teach every 
 thing, and, like faith, can remove mountains. 
 
 The love of Mr. IVlason, for this son, had not been 
 visibly partial, but he had been the helper and the com 
 panion of his father. The firmness of the child exactly 
 matched with the ever-changing spirits of the parent. 
 It will be manifest, that this display of such new and 
 untried proofs of character in the son, on such an oc 
 casion, would not abate the affection and confidence of 
 the father. The rest, the mother, Eliza, and Henry, 
 took their turn, indeed, in watching ; but nothing ever 
 kept George long from his station beside the bed, by 
 night and by day. There sat the one holding the hand 
 of his father, and looking steadily on his pale and ema 
 ciated face. The look that was every moment return 
 ed, was that undescribed gaze, that explains all that 
 
46 GEORGE MASON, 
 
 can be explained, of the bitterness of parting, and the 
 dreaded mystery of death. Whenever George was for 
 a moment away, and the father startled from sleep in 
 his absence, the first thing that his eye sought was this 
 cherished son. When George returned, resumed his 
 place, and asked what he could do, the reply, as his 
 satisfied countenance rested upon his son, was, " Noth- 
 ing." 
 
 The sickness of Mr. Mason had taken the form of a 
 gradual, and almost imperceptible, but fixed, and in 
 curable decay. The physician came a few times, and 
 then assured Mrs. Mason, in private, that he could do 
 nothing more for him. It would be to us an affecting, 
 as it might be to others a useful history, to relate how 
 suspense in this family settled into the conviction, that 
 nothing could save him, and that they must prepare to 
 part with him. Words go but a little way, in explain 
 ing this process, every stage of which is agony. The 
 heart of the reader may not be affected with it, as he 
 says, " It is the order of things every where. It has 
 taken place in uncounted millions of cases, and will so 
 continue to the end of lime." True ; but to this fam 
 ily, alone in the woods, it was as hard and as trying to 
 think of laying that venerated form in the silence of 
 death in the ground, as though it were the only case of 
 the kind, that could ever happen on the earth. 
 
 We ought to record for the honor of human nature, that 
 the neighbours, although seemingly insensible, felt that 
 there was misery in this family. Towards the close of 
 his sickness, their slaves were sent every day to watch, 
 and aid the family, and to bring to it such food and 
 comforts as their case required. They performed, also, 
 all the laborious duties of preparation for harvest, and 
 left the family no cares but to watch over its dying head. 
 No grief arrests the steady course of nature. The field 
 ripened. The family gradually reached the conviction, 
 that their head must be taken away, and were still 
 snatching at the hope, that it would be a long time be- 
 
THE YOUNG BACKWOODSMAN. 47 
 
 fore he would wear out. Thus it is, that like children 
 in the dark, we contrive to shut our eyes upon events, 
 and as one bubble bursts, grasp at another. 
 
 For some days, before the scene closed, Mr. Mason 
 was lethargic, arousing only at intervals to transient fits 
 of distress, and turning from side to side. He spoke 
 little more, than to call for water. The hand of George 
 was instantly clasped in his. and his satisfied look told, 
 that he had then obtained all that he wanted. His lips 
 would often move for a moment, and perhaps a tear or 
 two would roll down his cheeks, and he dozed again. 
 
 Such was the order of things until the twenty-fifth of 
 September. It was Sabbath evening, and a glorious 
 sunset. The sun was sinking behind the trees into the 
 misty veil of Indian summer. The turtle-doves were 
 cooing mournfully in the woods, as though sad at the 
 departure of day. Mr. Mason aroused, and instead of 
 relapsing, as usual, into lethargic drowsiness, seemed to 
 revive to unwonted consciousness. It was the myste 
 rious but common and sublime effort of the conscious 
 spirit^ about to take its final flight. He requested that 
 his family might assemble about his bed. The whole 
 family, even to the youngest member, was instantly about 
 him, in that speechless awe, in that mute and unuttera 
 ble excitement of love, astonishment, and terror, which 
 presses too hard upon the whole nature, to allow scope 
 to any individual feeling. They were there to hear his 
 last words and to witness his last struggles with mortal 
 ity. In his left hand was a hand of each of the chil 
 dren ; in his right, that of the worn, pale, and speech 
 less companion of his toils. His eyes were turned up 
 wards, and his lips moved evidently in silent prayer. In 
 noticing what passed across his brow, any one might have 
 seen the earnestness of his pleading with Him, who 
 heareth prayer. It was obvious, that the last move 
 ments of his spirit were those of aironizins: wrestlings 
 with the Angel of the covenant, and the solemn words 
 of mingled failh, humility, and confidence in God, " I 
 
48 GEORGE MASON, 
 
 will not let Thee go, until Thou bless them." When 
 he had finished this sublime and speechless commun 
 ion of a dying father with his Maker, in a firm and dis 
 tinct voice he uttered the following words : 
 
 "The last twelve years of my life have been a suc 
 cession of days of pain and sorrow. I have a thousand 
 times anticipated all the circumstances of this hour. 
 For myself, I should rejoice to be gone. Death is but 
 the pang of a moment. All that is terrible in this hour 
 is, in leaving you behind. Love of you has such entire 
 possession of this heart, that it seems to me, as if it 
 could not grow cold. Eliza, my wife, you need 
 strength, and while you implore it of God, struggle for 
 it yourself. We are not here in sin and tears, to melt 
 in sorrow, but to conflict firmly with trial, temptation, 
 and at last with death. My last charge to you is, to 
 shed as few tears for me, as may be, after I am gone, 
 and to strive to associate pleasant instead of painful re 
 membrances with the intercourse we have had togeth 
 er and with this parting. Gird up the loins of your 
 mind, and strengthen yourself in the strength of God for 
 your duty. Above all, look to God, and never despair. 
 Will you promise your dying husband this . ? " 
 
 A shuddering movement of her head gave consent. 
 
 " For you, George,'' he continued, "' I see the firmness 
 of duty in your eye. God has endowed you, as by a mir 
 acle, with the strength of mind necessary to take care of 
 this helpless family. You are to labor, and to pray, that 
 you may become, as of iron, that you may have no sen 
 sibilities, no fountains of tears; that you may act with 
 the singleness of firm and wise judgment for these dear 
 ones, that I now commit, under God, to your care. 
 In the management of them, will you be faithful, wise, 
 affectionate, and what I, your father, have not been, 
 firm ? You are young, to take such a charge, and 
 make such a promise." 
 
 A slight spasm passed over the beautiful and sun 
 burnt face of the noble boy, which indicated, that the 
 
THE YOUNG BACKWOODSMAN. 49 
 
 machinery of tears was in operation. It was the strug 
 gle of but a moment. He bent down, and kissed his 
 father's forehead, and uttered in a firm and unfaltering 
 voice, 4t Dear father, think only of yourself. I promise 
 all." The father convulsively grasped his hand, looked 
 eagerly, and intently in his face, and said in a low and 
 expiring voice, " Now, Lord, lettest Thou thy servant 
 depart in peace" 
 
 My reader has been over the dying bed of a father, 
 departing from the midst of his family. I leave it to 
 his thoughts to supply what followed. If the holy an 
 gels are affected with aught that belongs to mortality, 
 it is with a scene like this. It is sufficient to say, that 
 no sobbing, no tears, no holding to this earthly prop 
 retained his spirit in its flight. After the sad example of 
 all before him, he. heaved his last sigh. The bosom, 
 which still preserved the semblance of what had been 
 the seat of passion and sorrow, sunk to the stillness of 
 other inanimate matter. 
 
50 GEORGE MASON, 
 
 CHAPTER IV. 
 
 He clothes the lily notes a sparrow's fall, 
 And looks, intent, on man, his handy work. 
 
 A WOMAN, accustomed to those duties in the settle 
 ment, with the aid of two or three slaves, robed and 
 prepared the body for its last sleep. Nor, while these 
 painful duties were performing, were they interrupted 
 by the cries and shrieks, to which, on such occasions, 
 they were accustomed. These mourners remembered 
 the promise, so recently given, and they walked back 
 wards and forwards in the paleness of death ; but there 
 were no words, no audible lamentings. The children 
 clun.u; to their mother with an expression of terror and 
 awe, but were not heard to cry. Silent respect and 
 sympathy were on the countenances of the neighbours. 
 The passing slaves stopped, took off their hats, and 
 gazed respectfully for a moment on the face of the 
 dead, and passed on. Slander had been busy with the 
 name of the deceased, while living; but the claims of 
 truth and justice are every where felt to a certain de 
 gree. The manner of these people told more elo 
 quently than any words, they could have used, what 
 had been their real thoughts of him, while living. Of 
 the case of the mourners we need say nothing. The 
 Author of nature called them to endure it. My reader 
 knows, as 1 know, that this is no distress of fiction ; but 
 that we have each in our turn to be actors in the same 
 scene. There is as much truth as poetry in the figure 
 which calls this earth " a vale of tears." 
 
 I may remark in passing, that it is the character of 
 people, such as those among whom Mr. Mason de 
 ceased, to be deeply moved with such scenes of distress, 
 as these. Whatever appeals directly to their senses 
 powerfully affects them. They forgot their envy and 
 
THE YOUNG BACKWOODSMAN. 51 
 
 slander of the living, and were saying in an under tone 
 among themselves, what a wise and learned man he 
 had been, and how they pitied his poor and helpless 
 family. They were considerate and unequivocal in the 
 offer of the aid of servants, provisions, and ail the little 
 decencies, and mournful preparations for such a funeral 
 as the customs of that region prescribed. There was 
 no white person at that time within thirty miles, who 
 was accustomed to perform the usual religious duties 
 on that occasion. This circumstance was stated to 
 Mrs. Mason. It aroused her feelings from the stupe 
 faction of her distress to think that the remains of her 
 dear husband, who had so many hundred times uttered 
 the voice of prayer over the lifeless bodies of others, 
 should be carried to their long home without prayer. 
 Pompey, a converted methodist slave of Mr. Garvin, 
 was in the habit of preaching to the negroes, and of 
 praying at their funerals. Mrs. Mason very properly 
 preferred, that he should perform the funeral solemni 
 ties of her husband, rather than to have none on the 
 occasion. Through a pardonable remain of former pas 
 sions, and the feelings which had been nurtured in 
 another country and another order of things. - Mrs. 
 Mason chose that the body of her deceased husband 
 should be placed in the coffin, robed in the gown and 
 bands, the insignia of his former office and standing. 
 
 I should be glad to give my youthful reader as dis 
 tinct an image, as I have myself of this rustic funeral in 
 the Mississippi forest. I see the two solitary cabins 
 standing in the midst of the corn, the smaller cabin over 
 topped by the height of the surrounding corn. I see 
 the high and zig-zag fence ten rails high, that surrounds 
 the field, and the hewn puncheon steps in the form of 
 crosses, by which the people crossed over the fence into 
 the enclosure ; the smooth and beaten foot-path amidst 
 the weeds, that leads through the corn-field to the cab 
 ins. I see the dead trees throwing aloft their naked 
 stems from amidst the corn. I mark the square and 
 
52 GEORGE MASON, 
 
 compact enclosure of the deep green forest, which lim 
 its the prospect to the summits of the corn-stalks, the 
 forest, and the sky. A path is cut through the corn a 
 few feet wide to a huge sycamore left in its full ver 
 dure in one corner of the field, where Mr. Mason used 
 to repose with George, when he was weary, and where 
 he had expressed a wish, during his sickness, that he 
 might be buried. Under that tree is the open grave. 
 Before the door of the cabin, and shaded by the west 
 ern slope of the sun behind it, is the unpainted coffin, 
 wanting the covering plank. In it is the lifeless form 
 of the pastor, the cheek blanched to the color of the 
 baiuls about the neck, and contrasting so strongly with 
 the full and flowing black silk robe, in which, in the far 
 country of his birth, he had been accustomed to go up 
 to the house of the Lord. I see the white mothers, 
 their children, and a considerable number of blacks, 
 who had been permitted to attend the funeral in consid 
 eration of the service, which was to be performed by 
 one of their number. I see the tall and swarthy plant 
 ers with the sternness and authority of the rude- despot 
 ism, which they exercise over their slaves, and their 
 conscious feeling of their standing and importance, im 
 pressed upon their countenances. I see the pale and 
 subdued faces of the little group of mourners, struggling 
 hard with nature against lamentations and tears. They 
 could not have, and they needed not, the expensive and 
 sable trappings, which fashion has required for the show 
 of grief. Their faded weeds, and their mended dresses 
 were in perfect keeping with the utter despondency in 
 their countenances, and their forlorn and desolate pros 
 pects. 
 
 The assembled group was summoned to prayer. 
 The black, who officiated, by the contributions of his 
 fellow-servants of the whole settlement, was dressed in 
 a garb as near like that of the methodist ministers, who 
 were in habit of preaching in the settlement, as the case 
 would admit. The position was to him one of novelty 
 
THE YOUNG BACKWOODSMAN. 53 
 
 and of awe. His honest and simple heart was affected 
 at once with the extreme distress of the mourners and 
 the trying position, in which he was placed. He began 
 at first in awkward and unsuccessful attempts to imitate 
 the language and manner of educated ministers. He 
 soon felt the hopelessness of the effort ; and poured out 
 the earnest, simple, and spontaneous effusions of real 
 prayer in the tones of the heart, and in language not less 
 impressive from being uttered in the dialect of a negro. 
 He dissolved into tears from his own earnestness, and 
 while the honest and sable faces of his fellow-servants 
 were bathed in tears, the contagion of sympathy ex 
 tended through the audience, producing a general burst 
 of grief. I should despair of being able at all to catch 
 the living peculiarities and dialect of the discourse, or 
 exhortation, which followed. Nevertheless, I shall at 
 tempt an outline of the beginning, which may fairly 
 serve as a sample of the rest. 
 
 " White Massas and people, please to hark, and hear 
 the poor words of Pompey. Great God let white men 
 bring poor Pompey over the sea, and make him work 
 hard in field. Great God good, when he seem hard 
 with us. He send good men to turn Pompey's heart, 
 and make him Christian. Strange things God work. 
 Here Massa Mason, great Yankee preacher, know all 
 tongues, read all books, wear the grand gown, you see 
 there in coffin, preach in big meetin. He come way 
 off here to Massaseepe to die, die in the woods. No 
 body pray over him, but poor Pompey. Well. Me 
 think all one thing fore God. Me feel here, when me 
 die, me go to heaven. God no turn me out, cause me 
 no got book-learning. Massa Mason he die, he go to 
 heaven. Oh! Lord God, touch Pompey's lips,, that 
 he speak a word in season to poor Missis, and the dear 
 children. Oh ! Missis ! you see heaven, you no want 
 him back. No sin, no labor, no tears." 
 
 And the poor, earnest slave proceeded to pour forth 
 from the fulness of his heart, all the motives of resig- 
 
54 GEORGE MASON, 
 
 nation, patience, and hope, that his retentive memory, 
 and the excitement of his feelings, enabled him to utter. 
 For me, I have often heard the cold and studied words 
 of doctors, learned, and famed in the schools, with less 
 effect, than the heart-felt preaching of this devout 
 slave. The audience melted anew into tears, as he 
 proceeded ; and those of Mrs. Mason, and those of her 
 children, who were able to comprehend, were tears of 
 resignation and religion. "When the service was fin 
 ished, he recited, in his peculiar accent and dialect, 
 those beautiful verses of a methodist funeral hymn, 
 which he had so often heard repeated, as to have com- 
 mittted to memory. 
 
 " Those eyes he so seldom could close, 
 By sorrow forbidden to sleep," &c. 
 
 I have never heard voices so sweet, as of some fe 
 male blacks on such occasions. The thrilling tones 
 will remain on my memory, while 1 live. To me, too, 
 there is something affecting in that sacred music in 
 which the whole congregation join. Every one joined 
 in this hymn, and it seemed to be a general wail sent 
 up from the woods to heaven. 
 
 When the hymn was closed, the man, who officiated 
 as master of ceremonies on the occasion, proposed 
 to those, who wished to take a last look at the deceased, 
 to come forward. It is a common custom in that coun 
 try for widows, who affect refinement, to shut themselves 
 in retirement from the funeral solemnities of their hus 
 bands. Such was not the way, in which Mrs. Mason 
 expressed her grief, and her affection. She walked 
 firmly to the coffin, and all her children came round her. 
 They looked long, and without tears, at the pale and 
 care-worn countenance, and the deep and sunken eye 
 of the husband, the father, the being who had been, 
 next to God, their stay and their dependence. Well 
 might the widow remember the day, when in the prime 
 of youth, love, and hope, in the same robes of office, in 
 
THE YOUNG BACKWOODSMAN. 55 
 
 which his body was now lying before her in the coffin, 
 he had led her to the church, the sabbath after their 
 marriage. Oh ! there are views and reflections of a 
 moment, that fill remembrances of years. The look of 
 unutterable thoughts and feelings was over. The un- 
 painted cover was applied to the coffin, and the nails 
 were driven. Twelve of the most substantial planters 
 were the bearers. The mourners walked directly be 
 hind the coffin, and the whole mass followed through 
 the corn-field in a crowd. The coffin was let down in 
 to the grave, and the fresh and black soil was heaped 
 upon it. According to the affecting and universal cus 
 tom of that region, each one present gathered up a 
 handful of earth, and threw into the grave. A couple 
 of stakes were planted, the one at the head, and the 
 other at the foot of the grave ; and the neighbours dis 
 persed to their several abodes, and the widow and her 
 children returned to their desolate dwelling. 
 
 I feel a chill pass over me, as in imagination I look 
 in this evening upon this desolate family. I mark the 
 empty chair, where the deceased had been used to sit. 
 I observe his vacant place at the rustic table, and the 
 supper removed untouched. I remark the deeper sense 
 of desertion and loneliness, when Mrs. Mason took down 
 the family Bible at the accustomed hour of evening 
 prayer, and gave it to George. The noble boy remem 
 bered, that his dying father had delegated to him the 
 responsible and patriarchal authority of head of the 
 family, and had warned him against giving way to sorrow 
 and tears. He opened the Bible at that sublime and 
 pathetic chapter of Job, which begins, "Man, that is 
 born of a woman, is but of few days, and full of trou 
 ble : " a strain of poetry so deep, pathetic, and sublime, 
 that it reads in my ear, like a funeral hymn, with the 
 accompaniments of an organ. He had reduced to 
 writing his father's evening prayer, as he remembered it, 
 and in a firm and distinct voice he read it. He sung 
 sweetly, and had long been accustomed to raise the 
 
GEORGE MASON 
 
 evening hymn. It was an effort beyond his firmness, 
 and instead of the customary concert of v ? oices, was 
 met by a general burst of grief. I need not describe, 
 how dark this night looked to t^e children, as it settled 
 on the forests, nor describe the thrill, with which the 
 long and dismal howl of the wolves, echoing through 
 the woods, came upon tlieir ears ; nor need I mention 
 the convulsive shudder, with which her orphan daughter 
 lay down with her upon the matlrass, on which her 
 father had died. 
 
 The days that followed, seemed to them of im 
 measurable length. George and William went to the 
 field, as they had been wont, when their father was alive 
 for on the first morning after the funeral, it was agreed, 
 that to proceed to their duties, as usual, was the prop 
 er construction of his dying charge. Resolution in 
 a well-principled rnind can do much. But the heart 
 knoweth, and will feel, its own bitterness. The boys 
 dreamed at their task, or thought too intently of some 
 thing beside it, to make much progress. Days, how 
 ever prolonged by sorrow, came and went to them, as 
 though they had been in joy. For a few days the 
 neighbours looked in upon them, with countenances of 
 sympathy for their distress ; but in a fortnight all this was 
 to them, as though it had not been, and the bereaved 
 family was regarded with as much indifference, as the 
 dead trees about the dwelling. After that, had it not 
 been for the connexion of some of their own selfish 
 feelings with their case, whether they were naked or 
 clothed, whether they were hungry or fed full, whether 
 their hearts ached or were glad, would have been 
 known only to themselves and God. 
 
 It is not with the idle desire to sadden my youthful 
 reader with the relation of the details of a funeral, that 
 I have recorded the above minute delineation of this. 
 We all know, that man is born to die, and that these 
 things belong to our mortal condition. W T e know, too, 
 that sympathy with distress is one of the purest and best 
 
THE YOUNG BACKWOODSMAN. 57 
 
 feelings of our nature. It is never excited, without 
 rendering the subject of it better. I have wished to in 
 spire sympathy in the young bosom of my reader. I 
 have wished, above all, to furnish, by example, lessons of 
 duty, exertion, firmness, and industry under the utmost 
 pressure of bereavement and poverty. 
 
 I do not purpose very particularly to narrate the sub 
 sequent fortunes of this bereaved family, any farther, 
 than as their deportment is calculated to furnish these 
 lessons. I have more particularly in view to develope 
 the character and conduct of George. It is only 
 necessary to say, that for the present the family were 
 amply supplied with corn, and the common vegetables 
 from their field, which nature had been beneficently 
 ripening for them, during their utmost distress. They 
 might, therefore, behold the approach of winter without 
 any immediate apprehension of starving. But a family 
 may suffer, and suffer acutely, from poverty, after the 
 fear of the immediate want of food is removed. The 
 clothes, which they had brought with them from New- 
 England, were wearing out, and there were no means re 
 maining to them to replace them. The deer-skin dress, 
 so common in the country, was still more expensive to 
 purchase, than the cheap domestic articles of the coun 
 try. Either were alike beyond her means, which, as 
 regarded money, by the sickness and death of Mr. 
 Mason were entirely exhausted. There are many re 
 sorts and expedients in such cases to which backwoods 
 people are accustomed, which this family had yet to 
 learn. The decent pride of the mother had hitherto 
 kept the clothes of her children whole, by patching and 
 mending. But this could not be possible much longer. 
 It- is the real pinching and misery of poverty, for such 
 a family, to see one another becoming ragged, and an 
 object of scorn to the rude and undistinguishing passen 
 gers. There are severe frosts even in that climate. 
 Nor could five children be always confined to the narrow 
 precincts of a log-house. In the bright and delightful 
 
68 GEORGE MASON, 
 
 frosty mornings of the first of winter, it is natural, that 
 children should feel the cheering elasticity and invig 
 orating influence of the frosts, as other animals. They 
 soon, like the domestic fowls and animals, becpde ac 
 customed to running abroad unshod. But, when th^ 
 returned from their excursions, to hover round the fire, 
 their feet, red, inflamed, and smarting to agony, with 
 the reaction of the fire, the tender mother felt the in 
 flammation as keenly as though it had been on her own 
 heart. She saw, also, with humiliation and bitterness, 
 rather than the natural maternal pride, the ripening 
 beauty of her daughter, so strongly opposed to the for- 
 lornness of her dress and condition. Her own troubles 
 of the same sort were as nothing in the comparison. 
 
 The mode, in which herself and daughter obtained 
 a partial and present relief from these difficulties, was 
 scarcely less embarrassing than the difficulties them 
 selves. Their utter destitution and inability to remedy 
 it, were matter of common conversation among their 
 neighbours. To some it was a theme of mere indiffer 
 ent conversation. To some, who regarded their im 
 agined pretensions to something above them, it was a 
 subject of envious gratification. From Hercules Pin- 
 dall and Jethro Garvin it effectually excluded the view 
 of Eliza Mason. She was invited to their junkets, their 
 holiday amusements, and their Sabbath meetings, by 
 their sisters to no purpose, and their ingenuity readily 
 assigned the reason. The influence, which these Her 
 culean rustics possessed with their parents, induced 
 them, with no small degree of parade, since they found 
 it must be done, to present the mother and daughter 
 each with a new dress. The articles presented were 
 not in many respects such, as they would have chosen, 
 nor such, as befitted their condition. But necessity, 
 such as theirs, they thought, ought not to know the 
 laws of pride or taste. The mothers of these young 
 men presented the articles, not forgetting their way of 
 emblazoning their own charity and good feelings in the 
 
THE YOUNG BACKWOODSMAN. 59 
 
 case, not manifesting much delicacy, in touching 
 upon their known poverty, nor failing lo leave hroad 
 hints, that they expected that the mother and daugh 
 ter, t(j0p clad, would, show themselves abroad, and 
 qg sit there moping at home, mourning for one, 
 who could never return to them. Of Eliza, they said, 
 it was a pity, that she should always be shut up in the 
 cabin, and not learn any thing of the pleasures and fash 
 ions of the world. They expected, that she would 
 come and see their daughters ; and particularly invited 
 Mrs. Mason to bring her and George to a party, and a 
 nut-gathering, which was to take place at the house of 
 Mrs. Pindall in a few days, stating, as a particular ac 
 commodation of considerate feeling, that out of regard 
 to their case, as mourners, there was to be no dancing, 
 which would otherwise have made a part of the amuse 
 ments on the occasion. 
 
 Mrs. Mason's mind was placed in a Atate of painful 
 doubt and perplexity, whether she ought, under such 
 circumstances, to accept the presents at all. Neces 
 sity, and scruples of conscience, which arose from fear 
 that pride would dictate the refusal, induced her to ac 
 cept the offered presents. She stated, however, and 
 that distinctly, that she should not be understood, by 
 accepting them, to lay herself or her daughter under 
 any obligations of any kind, but those of gratitude, and 
 that she thought her peculiar troubles were too recent 
 to allow her properly to go to such a place, on such an 
 occasion, but that she would take the matter into con 
 sideration, and give them such an answer, as should be 
 thought right, after such deliberation. I hope my read 
 er will never be placed in a situation iike that of this 
 mother, needing such assistance, and yet dreading the 
 pride, that would refuse it, and the obligations to be 
 incurred by receiving it ; recoiling from any intimate 
 connexion with the donors, yet, out of tender regard to 
 those dearer than life, dreading to provoke their wrath, 
 and the weight of their power, by showing a manifest 
 
60 GEORGE MASON, 
 
 purpose to avoid them. Such was precisely the rela 
 tion of Mrs. Mason with these neighbours, whose good 
 will, she was aware, was absolutely essential to her. 
 
 While the family deliberated upon the impropriety of 
 going to a party, in such a place, in six weeks from the 
 time of the decease of its head, the other family, an 
 ticipating the view, which they would take of the affair, 
 changed the name of it to a " preaching," against which 
 they foresaw no objection could lie. This settled the 
 case, and she became convinced, that duty and interest 
 called on her to accept the invitation. So, arming her 
 daughter with all the preparatory cautions, which she 
 could devise, how to conduct with the young people, 
 when they should be by themselves, she sent a note, 
 signifying, that she would accept their invitation, and 
 spend the clay and the evening with them, as requested. 
 
 When the important day arrived, George was left to 
 keep house with the care of the younger children, while 
 the mother and daughter, in their new dresses, with 
 hearts aching with apprehension, were helped into the 
 carriage, which Mr. Pindall had sent, in great form, to 
 convey them to the feast. When they arrived, they 
 found the table spread in a very large hall, the walls of 
 which were of fresh hewn logs, decked everywhere 
 with evergreens, and the last flowers of the season. 
 This hall answered alternately the purpose of a ball 
 room and a church. The company was a selection of 
 all the considerable planters for ten miles round. The 
 number was twenty, with twice as many sons and 
 daughters. The latter, if not generally beautiful in 
 person, were tall, graceful, and powerful in form. Six 
 yellow women, and as many yellow men, waited at ta 
 ble in liveries. The planters and their wives were 
 dressed in their best, and their daughters, as flaunty, 
 as red, coquelico, and crimson could make them. 
 
 The preaching, as we have remarked, was the pre 
 tence for the dinner, and answered, besides, the pur 
 pose of satisfying a multitude of the settlement, that 
 
THE YOUNG BACKWOODSMAN. 61 
 
 conld not be invited to the dinner. To have received 
 from such rich .people an invitation to come there, and 
 feast upon the good word, sent them away satisfied. 
 The preaching was of course the first in order. The 
 minister was ignorant and heavy, and withal smelt the 
 flavor oft' e preparing dinner so keenly, that he hurried 
 through his reluctant services as fast as possible, cur 
 tailing every part of them, but the burst of noise and 
 passion at the close. The good man finished the short 
 campaign, as Bonaparte said, " with a clap of thun 
 der." The lesser people, 'who might not abide the 
 dinner, retired, apparently well satisfied with their pen 
 ny-worth ; and the preacher made his way to the din 
 ner-table, as glad to leave the services as the people 
 were to hear him say, Amen. 
 
 The important matter of arranging the parties at ta 
 ble was next to be settled. It might have been a point 
 of as much difficulty and delay as occurred between 
 the duke and Don Quixote, on a similar occasion, had 
 it not been announced, that this was the freedom din 
 ner of young Mr Hercules Pindall, and that he had of 
 course the privilege of assigning places at the table as 
 he pleased. The young man, dressed in his freedom 
 suit of rich blue broadcloth, and a splendid scarlet sash 
 about his waist, and with all his " blushing honors thick 
 upon him," proceeded immediately to discharge his 
 delegated duties. I am only interested to mention, 
 that Mrs. Mason was seated high in honor, on the right 
 hand of the head of the table, and her daughter oppo 
 site her on the left. Mr. Hercules look the head him 
 self, and his mother was at the foot. These important 
 preliminaries settled, the remainder of the company, 
 old and young, arranged themselves at their choice. 
 The table groaned with turkeys, venison, beef, pork, 
 p es, vegetables, and all the foreign luxuries, which the 
 steam-boats brought from New-Orleans ; in short every 
 thinz, that the country could furnish, or the luxury of 
 cooking in that region prepare. The clatter of knives 
 6 
 
62 GEORGE MASON, 
 
 and forks followed, and the gay and good-natured con 
 versation, inspired by the sight of beauty, and the pal 
 pable relish of good cheer, still further aided by the ar 
 tificial excitement of wine and whiskey-punch, produced 
 that Babel mixture of sounds, that every one, who has 
 been at such a place, so well remembers. Nor let 
 those, who have had the honor to be present at great 
 and given dinners, among the men of power, place, and 
 opulence in cities, vainly think, that elegance, and wis 
 dom, arid wit, will die with them. There was as much 
 smirking and showing off here as there. There were 
 as many attempts at wit, and a much greater amount of 
 laughter. There was as much concealed passion of 
 every sort. In short, there was at this table a sample 
 of every thing that has been seen in pavilions and pal 
 aces, on a like occasion. The grand git of the merri 
 ment, however, was the happy era of the arrival at 
 majority of Mr. Hercules, and a great many broad allu 
 sions to a supposed union, that was contemplated be 
 tween the tall and powerful young heir, and the sweet 
 and blushing child, who sat in her weeds on his left. 
 Her exquisite beauty drew from these hearty fellows 
 the strong terms of encomium, in which backwoodsmen 
 know so well how to express themselves. Hercules, 
 too, elevated by his new dignity, and warmed by the 
 occasion and a glass of wine above fear, made love to 
 the shrinking Eliza in direct and strong terms, and in a 
 Style and language so new and curious, that, child and 
 inexperienced as she was, in another situation, and un 
 der other circumstances, it could not but have drawn 
 smiles from a girl, now turned of thirteen, with fine nat 
 ural powers, and an arch eye. As it was, the whole 
 scene inspired her with terror and aversion. She had 
 recently learned, that the father of Hercules had a claim 
 to the land on which her mother lived, supposed to be 
 better, than that which her deceased father had pur 
 chased. In many ways she felt, that her mother was 
 in the power of this man, so courted, and dreaded 
 
THE YOUNG BACKWOODSMAN. 68 
 
 through the settlement. Her charge from her mother 
 had been to steer in the midst between encouraging, 
 and affronting this young swain. Amidst the uproar 
 and clatter her mother could only partially hear what 
 he said to her, and divine the purport and effect, by 
 discovering the alternate changes from the rose to the 
 lily, in the countenance of her dear orphan. 
 
 The dinner terminated, as such affairs in such places 
 usually do, except that at the earnest remonstrances of 
 the host, there was little intoxication, and the jolly plant 
 ers, arose from table, only " well to live," as the phrase 
 was among them. They dispersed, followed by their 
 dogs and negroes, to shoot at a mark, and decide the 
 comparative merits of the horses, that were entered 
 for the next horse-race. The married ladies retired to 
 another room, to commence a quilting. The young 
 gentlemen and ladies paired themselves and marched off 
 into the woods, to witness the cutting of a bee-tree, and 
 to gather grapes and peccans. Hercules would have 
 insisted upon leading off Eliza, but with a shrewdness 
 and a knowledge of things, which might .not have been 
 expected from her age, she clung firmly to the arm of 
 his sister, Letitia, so far a blue-blocking, as. to be able 
 to read a novel with very little spelling. Seeing him 
 self anticipated in his purpose, the young gentleman 
 had nothing to do, but to saunter, somewhat moodily, 
 by the side of his sister. 
 
 It was a gay spectacle, to see so many girls in their 
 gaudy dresses, and with their streamers fluttering in the 
 breeze, as they spread in groups among the pawpaw 
 groves, under natural bowers, covered with the rich 
 clusters of the blue grape. It was the sweet autumnal 
 season of th<; south country, in which the air is bland, 
 the temperature delicious. The leaves were plashing 
 in the little pools ; and those that remained were red, 
 yellow, crimson, or sear, and in every rich and mellow 
 tint, from green to brown. There was chatting, and 
 laughing, and reckless gaiety in abundance ; and even 
 
64 GEORGE MASON, 
 
 Eliza caught the .gaiety of the rest, and the inspiration 
 of the scene, and would have been cheerful, but for her 
 terror of the tall young man, whose eye was so con 
 stantly fixed on hers, with an expression, before which 
 hers quailed. For the rest, they were as merry, and 
 as witty, and made love in their way as heartily, and to 
 as much purpose, and all their thoughts, hopes, de 
 sires, and affections were as completely filled with the 
 scene, and, probably, far more so, than are the gay 
 parties at Ranelagh. 
 
 When they arrived at the point proposed, Miss Leti- 
 tia informed her young friend, as Hercules left them for 
 a moment, that his inventive brain, inspired, as she in 
 sinuated, by love, had devised the striking spectacle, 
 that they were now to witness. T-hey had come to a 
 grand, perpendicular, lime-stone bluff, four hundred 
 feet high, down which precipitated a white sheet of 
 water from a spring on the summit, looking like a wide 
 ribband of silver-lustre, suspended in the air, and fall 
 ing with a pleasant murmur into a basin at the foot of 
 the bluff. Thence it wound away in a still stream, 
 which crept slowly through the bottom. On the banks 
 of this stream was a wide turf, covered with the most 
 splendid mosses, short, silken, and seeming; like buff- 
 green velvet. H was shaded with prodigious syca 
 mores and ppccans, alive with wild pigeons and par 
 roquets, feeding on the grapes and the nuts. At the 
 basin, refreshments, cakes, pies, and claret wine, were 
 prepared, and two or three blacks, dressed in fantastic 
 finery, played the fiddle and the hurdy-gurdy. 
 
 Beside three trees at a proper distance stood three 
 negroes, each with an axe in his hand. The.young 
 gentlemen and ladies were all assembled around the 
 fountain. The negroes were scraping their fiddles 
 and hurdy-gurdies in great glfe. Suddenly they 
 came to a dead pause, and Miss Letiiia whispered 
 Eliza, that she must wave a handkerchief, and that 
 something grand would happen in consequence. She 
 
THE YOUNG BACKWOODSMAN. 66 
 
 perceived that all eyes were turned upon her, in mute 
 expectation. Merely to get rid of the awkwardness of 
 this pause, she held up a handkerchief, which she 
 had received, as part of her recent present, and waved 
 it. At the signal the three blacks struck two or three 
 quick blows upon the trees, by which they stood, and 
 three prodigious trees, the very giants of the forest, 
 bent in opposite directions, giving two or three sharp 
 cracks, and then thundered down with a crash, that 
 was terrific, sweeping whole trees and limbs. and every 
 thing that opposed, from their course, and striking the 
 earth with a force that made the very earth tremble 
 under their feet and echoed far through the woods. 
 The pigeons and parroquets fluttered in clouds from 
 the scene. The dogs barked. The young men huz 
 zaed, and there was a general and Jong waving of 
 handkerchiefs from the young ladies to correspond. 
 
 One of these prodigious fallen trees was a bee- 
 tree, in which was a large and rich swarm that had 
 been discovered and reserved for the occasion ; and this 
 tree, and the other two were prepared for the festival, 
 by bring cut so nearly off as only to require a blow 
 or two to fell them. One of the other trees was a pec- 
 can, covered with nuts, and the other a sycamore, 
 whose summit was crowned with clusters of the blue 
 grape. It was a new source of amusement to gather 
 nuts and grapes, which, but a few moments before, had 
 been a hundred feet in the air. There was, of course, 
 a new theatre for wit and mutual gymnastic efforts, on 
 the part of the lads and lasses, and many were the 
 feats of springing, reaching, and climbing, on both sides, 
 and well, and gracefully did the lovers show their 
 elected their love and daring, in getting for them, at 
 any effort and any risk, the clusters, or nuts, for which 
 they expressed an inclination. 
 
 When the young ladies had eaten grapes and nuts to 
 their satisfaction, and had filled their handkerchiefs, 
 and given them to their attending servants, ,to carry 
 6* 
 
GEORGE MASON 
 
 home, a trial of the gallantry and devotion of their 
 swains ensued, which, so far from being semblance, 
 and unreal, was one worthy of the "hardihood and dar 
 ing of a Sampson. The bee-tree, in falling, had broken 
 at the point where the swarm had formed their hive. 
 The little exasperated insects were whizzing by thou 
 sands about the ruin of their habitation and fortunes, and 
 were denouncing vengeance against those who should 
 dare to add misery to affliction, by plundering ihera of 
 their honey. One young man after another, covering 
 his head with a handkerchief, walked up to the hollow, 
 amidst the shouts and bravos of the company, and with 
 as much adroitness, and as few /stings, as might be, 
 brought off a fragment of the comb, and presented it 
 with a suitable speech to the young lady of his choice. 
 
 Hercules Pindail, to show more devoted love, and 
 more chivalrous daring, walked deliberately, and with 
 uncovered face, among the thickest of the bees, and 
 stooped down and took a full survey of the comb in the 
 broken hollow, and reached in his hand, and scooped 
 out the white and virgin circles of comb from the very 
 centre of the hive, and with his face and hands swollen, 
 and agonizing with fifty stings, presented his trophy to 
 Eliza. All this was accompanied with a suitable 
 speech, the witty part of which bore for burden, that 
 this external stinging had no relation, nor comparison 
 to certain smarts and agonies, inflicted by her mischiev 
 ous eyes in his bosom. There are few female hearts 
 of thirteen, I ween, that would not have softened some 
 thing from the rigor, imposed by maternal counsels, at 
 such notable proofs of daring constancy. Eliza pleaded, 
 that she was too young to love. Hercules, in reply, 
 was ready to wait her time, so that he might hope at 
 the end of his probation. 
 
 But I willingly pass over this scene. Hercules was 
 earnest, rough, and direct to his point, and used threats 
 withal. Eliza was young, and frightened, and trem 
 bled at the thought of committing the grounds and 
 
THE YOUNG BACKWOODSMAN. 67 
 
 cabin, that sheltered her poor brothers and her mother. 
 It was a scene most trying to the unpractised child, 
 from which she only escaped by lelling him, that even 
 if she were of age to love, it would be no way to in 
 spire it, to threaten ruin to her mother's family, and by 
 warning him, that if he did not desist, and let her off, 
 she would call the company. The party broke up, 
 partaking of the general gloom, created by the vrsible 
 ill humor of the chief entertainer, who was evidently 
 dissatisfied with the progress of his love-making, his 
 prospects, himself, and every thing. It was late in the 
 evening, when the carriage was ordered to carry Mrs. 
 Mason and her daughter home. The narrative of the 
 incidents of the feast was of course reserved for the fol 
 lowing day. 
 
 The first smile, which had been seen in this family, 
 since the death of its head, was excited in the listening 
 group, the next morning, as Eliza described, in her 
 way, the dinner, the nut-gathering, and the gallantry of 
 Hercules, manifested by the number of stings, and the 
 amount of swelling. From the little which she related 
 of what he had said to her, and the answers, which she 
 had made to him, the state of the case was sufficiently 
 obvious not only to the keen discernment of the moth 
 er, but even to the inexperienced judgment of George. 
 They had been for some time aware, that their little 
 homestead was claimed by different titles, and that, 
 probably, that of Mr. Pindall was as valid as theirs. A 
 law suit, at least, was necessary to try their compara 
 tive validity, and this would be as ruinous to them as to 
 be deprived of their home. The opulent, who are in 
 suspense about the fate of their ships, after a storm, can 
 have but a faint idea of the bitterness fff apprehension, 
 with which this family regarded the idea of being turn 
 ed out of their humble home. It was their all, and not 
 the less important to them, because it would have been 
 nothing to another. Various were the devices propos 
 ed, to sooihe the disappointed vanity of the young man, 
 
68 GEORGE MASOIC, 
 
 and ward off the vengeance of his father. Thomas ven 
 tured to propose it as his judgment, that Hercules was 
 a fine, stout, young man, and called by all the people, 
 the " best " in the settlement of his years, and certain 
 ly the richest. He thought sister might tell him, 
 that she would wait for him ; " And you know," he sig 
 nificantly added. " you can make him wait as long as 
 you will. Then you could be sure of this, and the 
 great farm/and ride about in the coach, and we should 
 all be rich and happy." A kind of musing contempla 
 tion of the matter, in the same point of view, seemed 
 for a moment to pass over the brow of Mrs. Mason. A 
 paleness, as of death, and a burst of tears from the 
 daughter showed the light in which she considered the 
 most distant prospect of getting rid of their difficulties 
 in that way. It was settled, that they would deliberate 
 no further upon the subject until future difficulties called 
 upon them to act. 
 
THE YOUNG BACKWOODSMAN. 69 
 
 CHAPTER V. 
 
 " Despise not the poor because he is poor." 
 
 WHENEVER the question of the future course of the 
 family was in discussion, and whenever the investiga 
 tion was followed by gloom and despondency, George 
 never failed 10 p!y his fa h< r's motto, and to dwell upon 
 his last declaration, that God never forsakes them, who 
 do not forsake themselves. " They were in health," 
 he said, " and in a country where sustenance was easy 
 to be procured, and if they could only hit upon the 
 right way, some one might surely be devised, in which 
 they might 'become independent of Hercules Pmdall, 
 and every body, and take care of themselves." The 
 grand burden of their conversations was to search for 
 this way. 
 
 The inquirer after the secret of perpetual motion, 
 the chemist inquiring after the transmuting secret, that 
 will turn lead to gold, the student whipping up his pow 
 ers to put the finish- to an invention that will bring him 
 fame and foitune, know but little of the heart- wearing 
 study of this family, to start in some track, by which 
 they might obtain sufficient money to clothe the family, 
 and p;iy the doctor's bill and the taxes. Destitute as 
 they were, these bills were presented, and payment 
 pressed with persevering importunity. In discoursing 
 every evening upon this theme, Madam Mason, George, 
 and Eliza were of course the chief speakers, though 
 Henry, Thomas, and William, often made their speech, 
 and threw their light upon the subject. These discus 
 sions were pursued with the more earnestness and in 
 terest, inasmuch as the speakers considered themselves 
 urged to those inquiries by the mournful consideration, 
 that in so doing they were fulfilling the last wish and 
 charge of their deceased head. His spirit was consid- 
 
70 GEORGE MASON 
 
 ered as one of the number, still pressing the grand max 
 im of his life, " never to despond," and urging them to 
 task their inventive powers to the utmost to find some 
 branch of industry, in pursuing which, they might ob 
 tain a decent livelihood. If the reader would not have 
 felt a smile out of place in this family, he could not have 
 restrained a smile at hearing some of the propositions 
 of the junior members of this singular debating society. 
 Henry proposed the mystery of bird-catching, and send 
 ing cages of mocking-birds, red-birds, parroquets, and 
 turtle-doves to New-Orleans for sale. Thomas was for 
 applying their exertions to the gathering reed-canes^ 
 and sending them to the Northern manufacturers for 
 Weavers' sleys. George had high hopes from a chemi 
 cal composition for ink and blacking, which he expect 
 ed to complete from the vegetables of the country. 
 Mrs. Mason and Eliza limited their .projects to the 
 tried and simple experiment of raising cotton, and spin 
 ning night and day to clothe themselves, and manufac 
 ture a little surplus for sale. A thousand inconvenien 
 ces attended every experiment, as preliminary diffi 
 culties. The proposer was generally overwhelmed by 
 the objections of the next speaker. One project was 
 abandoned to find difficulties equally insuperable, ap* 
 pewded to another. Niglrt after night, and week after 
 \veek, wore away in the unprofitable speculations of 
 theory. The debating society generally retired from 
 the evening fire to their beds, their brain dry and ex 
 hausted by useless reaching for some practicable pro 
 ject, and their hearts sunk with the discouraging im 
 pression, that nothing was before them but the same 
 hopeless poverty. 
 
 But when their supper of milk, corn-bread, and 
 sweet potatoes was finished, and they were again as 
 sembled about the evening fire, the repetition ot the 
 ancient maxim, " : never despair," like a voice from 
 heaven, renewed their courage and strength for a new 
 discussion. Success, as it ought, ultimately attended 
 
THE YOUNG BACKWOODSMAN. 71 
 
 these counsels. The post-master, on the bank of the 
 river, had noticed George, and had inquired into the 
 circumstances and character of the family. He was a 
 man, who had both understanding and a heart. He 
 never, it is true, had proposed to himself to be a Me- 
 czenas, or to establish a manufacturing village. But if 
 we could know all the good thoughts that pass in the 
 minds of humble and undistinguished people, who ^ex 
 pect neither notoriety nor advantage from those thoughts, 
 we could not but think better of the species and human 
 nature. While this family was wearying itself in fruit 
 less attempts to invent some kind of pursuit in which 
 to employ their industry, he had mere than once been 
 occupied in the benevolent desire to be useful 10 them. 
 As a foretaste of good will to them, he was in the habit 
 of sending George the newspapers and pamphlets, that 
 came to his office, after he had perused them. These 
 were beneficial to thorn in a hundred ways. They 
 taught the children to read. In an imperfect degree 
 they supplied the want of books. They learned from 
 them the events, passions, and employments of the 
 great world. The thousand projects and discoveries of 
 manufacturing inventiveness were brought to their view, 
 They could thus trace the range of other minds in the 
 same inquiries, which themselves were pursuing with 
 so much interest. Among other inventions in manufac 
 tures, they noted with keen interest, that the town from 
 which they had emigrated, had become famous for the 
 manufacture of a new kind of grass-bonnets, in imita 
 tion of Leghorn straw. A premium of fifty dollars had 
 been obtained by a school-mate of Eliza's, for a bonnet 
 of this kind, which had sold for thirty dollars beside. 
 Eighty dollars for a single bonnet, and that made by a 
 girl neither older, nor more ingenious, than herself! In 
 fact the whole family, from constantly seeing the manu 
 facture going on about them, while in New-England, 
 had become familiar with all the mysteries of cutting, 
 splitting, bleaching, and platting straw, and with every 
 
72 
 
 GEORGE MASON, 
 
 stage of the operation, from cutting the grain to ar 
 ranging the anificial flowers on the finished honnet. 
 From a dissertation upon the kind of grass, used in 
 this manufacture, George was confident, that it was 
 none other, than the identical crab-grass, which was 
 such an abundant and troublesome inmate in their corn 
 field. So impatient were they all, to satisfy themselves 
 upon this point, that immediately after reading the ar 
 ticle in question, George and Henry sallied out with a 
 light, at ten in the evening, to gather some of the crab- 
 grass, and to satisfy themselves, as to its capabilities for 
 this manufacture. The article was still unharmed by 
 the frost, though so late in the season, and Madam Ma 
 son and Eliza found it to succeed, on experiment, be 
 yond their most sanguine expectations. They retired 
 to rest, full of cheerful and golden dreams, even Eliza 
 dreaming, that the children were all clad in new suits 
 with shoes and stockings, and that she and her mother 
 were once more fine. 
 
 This was a project for immediate and earnest trial. 
 Sufficient quantities of the grass were collected from 
 the field. George and the boys concluded to try their 
 skill upon the coarser manufacture of Vevay straw-hats 
 for gentlemen, of which some for domestic use were 
 already made in the settlement. Plenty of the finest 
 oat-straw for that purpose was readily obtained in the 
 settlement. In the papers, too, were minute disserta 
 tions upon rearing the silk-worm, and the making of 
 silk. The woods about them abounded in mulberry- 
 trees, and there were acres covered with young and 
 thrifty ones, such as were represented to be iu the right 
 stage, to furnish tender leaves for feeding the silk-worm. 
 Eggs for rearing the worms were offered gratuitously, 
 to encourage this species of industry. Behold the 
 promise of pleasant, practicable, and profitable labor, 
 both for winter and summer. The adventurer, whose 
 ticket has obtained the fortunate prize of fifty thousand 
 dollars may feel more intoxicating enjoyment, in the 
 
THE YOUNG BACKWOODSMAN. 73 
 
 first raptures of success, but we question if his medita 
 tions, on the whole, are as calm, tranquillizing, salatary, 
 and enduring, as were the anticipations of this family, 
 in laying out their plans of future industry and suc 
 cess. 
 
 The trials and efforts of Madam Mason and her 
 daughter were commenced with the morning light, and 
 scarcely relinquished until midnight. Their slender 
 fingers were guided by all the skill, derived from prac- 
 tice v in New-England, by way of amusement, and by 
 having been reared where such operations and pursuits 
 were familiar,, and carried on by every one about them. 
 It is true, they did not succeed to their minds at once. 
 But active and ingenious people, who are in earnest, 
 and determined not to be discouraged, seldom fail in 
 such efforts, and soon improve upon their first attempts. 
 As faith in religion can remove mountains^ so cour 
 age, patience, industry, and perseverance conquer all 
 difficulties in practice. The inexperienced manufactur 
 ers made many mistakes, and slow progress at first. 
 But in the course of the winter, the mother and daugh 
 ter had made two grass bonnets, of which the first might 
 be said to be quite tolerable, and *the last even beauti 
 ful, in comparison with Leghorn straws. George and his 
 brothers, in the same interval, had completed eight gen 
 tlemen's straw hats, which were considered merchanta 
 ble, besides one, of a less perfect workmanship and the 
 fruit of their first essays and experiments, for each one 
 of their own number. The last half-dozen were wrought 
 with considerable ingenuity and neatness. In the same 
 period, they had made considerable preparation for the 
 manufacture of silk, in which they were favored by 
 their friend, the postmaster, who not only furnished 
 them with all his printed information, in relation to this 
 business, but franked their letters, requesting eggs, and 
 had the pleasure of learning that their requests were 
 granted, and the eggs forwarded according to their 
 desire. 
 
74 , GEORGE MASON, 
 
 March had come again; but the venerated head of 
 the family would come no more, to enjoy with his dear 
 family the pleasure of seeing the brooks tufted with the 
 beautiful blossoms of the meadow-pink, and the woods 
 rendered gay with the opening flowers of the red-bud. 
 But these harbingers of spring admonished them, in 
 compliance with his~ last wishes, to begin their prepara 
 tions for subsistence through the coming year. It was 
 necessary that the field should be ploughed this season. 
 The frank deportment and the persevering industry of 
 George had so far won upon the good feelings of the 
 planters about them, that two of the richest offered to 
 send their slaves and teams to plough his field. It was 
 regarded in the family as a gift from heaven ; for they 
 could not expect a second crop, without ploughing ; 
 neither had they been able to devise any possible means 
 of hiring it done. It inspired them with new courage. 
 and was regarded as an omen of future good fortune. 
 
 This grand difficulty overcome, it was proposed, that 
 before planting, George and Henry should carry the 
 fruits of their winter's industry to the village on the 
 banks for sale, at the time, when they were advertised 
 by the papers, that a s^eam-boat would arrive there from 
 New-Orleans. It seemed, though they admitted a 
 slender one, the only chance that offered for a market 
 for their bonnets and hats. They had made some ef 
 forts, indeed, to sell these articles tp some of their more 
 opulent neighbours. They had even offered the best 
 bonnet for the ploughing of their field. But such is the 
 effect of prejudice, that these men found the bonnets 
 and hats mean and coarse, compared with much meaner 
 and coarser hats and bonnets bought from the stores. 
 An impartial eye conld have seen at once the superiority 
 of their articles. But these had been made at home 
 and under their eye, and without mystery, and by a 
 destitute family with worn and patched garments and 
 bare feet. Those that they purchased from the stores, 
 were far-fetched and dear-bought. So true is it, that 
 
THE YOUNG BACKWOODSMAN. 
 
 75 
 
 manufactures, like prophets, are not like to be honored 
 in their own country. It is human nature, to undervalue 
 what grows up under our own eye. Of all this Mrs. 
 Mason was fully aware. Hero and emperor, as George 
 was, in her eye, she was aware, that he was an inexpe 
 rienced trader ; that his market was a most unpromising 
 one, and she allowed herself to indulge but very slender 
 hopes from the proposed excursion to the river. But 
 there was neither shoe nor stocking in the family. 
 Notwithstanding the mending and patching of decency 
 and honest pride, their last dress was rapidly verging 
 to rags. They already hid themselves from their neigh 
 bours as they passed. As the mother made her last 
 arrangements for the departure of her boys on this 
 excursion, it was wilh many prayers and tears. Never 
 theless, the grand maxim of her dear departed husband, 
 " never to despair," came to her thoughts, as though it 
 were his spirit hovering near to cheer them. Her last 
 and best exertions were made to render them as neat 
 and decent in their appearance, as circumstances would 
 admit. But though their clothes were so patched and 
 seamed, that the original material and the ground color 
 could be hardly discerned, it was manifest that they 
 were children of a mother who had been used to decency 
 and respectable society. After giving them all the 
 counsels of maternal apprehension and forecast, after 
 long and laborious dictation, what was to be said and 
 done, in various supposed cases, she did up the venture 
 in two bundles in the only two decent handkerchiefs 
 remaining in the family, the larger to be borne by 
 George, and the smaller by Henry; she kissed them both, 
 suppressed her starting tears, and trusting the .return 
 purchases, if they made sales, entirely to the judgment 
 of George, and his knowledge of what they needed 
 most, she sent them forth. An India merchant, who 
 out a ship carrying specie to China, knows nothing of 
 the anxious solicitudes of this mother in the case. The 
 poor widow, who sends her only son on a voyage, and 
 
76 GEORGE MASON 
 
 raises her last dollar to fix him out with an adventure, 
 can understand the case better. 
 
 The younger boys and Eliza were in high spirits, and 
 tripped along with them to the steps that led out of the 
 field. She gave them many counsels in relation to the 
 pretty articles, which she wished them to bring back. At 
 the steps she kissed them, shook hands with them, and 
 again and again wished them a good voyage, which was 
 earnestly echoed by the younger ones, and they set 
 forth alone. 
 
 I know not how the reader feels, but I feel as much 
 interest in the march of these barefooted boys along the 
 deep forest, as I do in reading about the adevntures 
 and ridiculous distresses of fine dressed lords and ladies. 
 Of all stupid things in our world, it is the most stupid, 
 as we have before remarked, that the great mass of 
 readers should have thought, that there Was no dignity 
 nor interest in any adventures, but those of men that 
 have fine houses and coaches. There are only a few 
 hundreds of the former in our whole country. There 
 are a million who can claim the alliance of kindred 
 fortune with George and Henry. The movements of 
 human nature are just as strong in them, and if we 
 would study them, would be found possessing as high 
 an interest as those of the former. 
 
 It was a beautiful March morning when they started, and 
 the swelling buds of the Spice-Wood filled the air with 
 aromatic fragrance. Wherever they crossed a run with a 
 southern exposure, they saw the delicious meadow-pink 
 and the red-bud in flower. The beauty of the day, that in 
 explicable spirit of freshness and joy to the whole creation, 
 which, spring diffuses over earth and through air, and with 
 which it fills every thing that has life with gaiety and 
 songs ; the alcove of branches in the grand forest through 
 H%hich they passed, just beginning to be tinged with 
 
 (countless points of green; every thing on their way was 
 of a freshness to cheer every thing but despair. They, 
 too, were full of the freshness and buoyancy of youthful 
 
THE YOUNG BACKWOODSMAN. 77 
 
 existence, and the sweet illusions of hope were diffused 
 over their minds. They walked almost with a bound. 
 They whistled, and sung, as an echo to the songs of the 
 forest, and for the first six miles of their way, no doubts 
 or fears had mingled with their expectations. But we 
 all of us from four to fourscore are creatures of the 
 elements; our joys and our sorrows, the fabric of a 
 passing remembrance, a floating cloud, a change in the 
 temperature ; and the sunshine of the mind vanishes 
 with that of the sky. Before they reached the river, 
 the sun rode high, and the day was sultry. They had 
 become weary, and the excess of morning gaiety and 
 hope was gone. For a couple of hours they had lived, 
 too fast, and the revulsion of discouragement followed. 
 Whoever had met them at that time, would have noted 
 in their weary and listless step, and their dejected coun 
 tenances, that their sanguine anticipations were gone. 
 Henry began very frankly to confess his doubts and dis 
 couragements. George in heart was as much discour 
 aged, as his brother ; but he had practically and thorough' 
 learned the hard lesson of putting a good face upon a 
 hopeless project. So he put himself, to his utmost in 
 genuity, to prove to his brother, that nobody could ever 
 hope to succeed in any project with a sad countenance, 
 and a discouraged look. " Jf we do not look cheerful and 
 full of hope, when we arrive," said he, " that alone would 
 spoil our market. Tf I were going to the gallows, I 
 would strive to put a good face upon it." He then ex 
 erted his utmost ingenuity to prove to his brother, that 
 they actually would do well. Children are easy to con 
 vince, especially when they wish to be convinced. 
 While they rested a few moments, he entreated his 
 brother to look cheerful, and by making such efforts 
 with him actually became so himself. More of the 
 secret of success in life lies in this thing, than many ^. 
 readers imagine. 
 
 They arose, resuming their morning faces, and march 
 ed on, whistling and singing, until they arrived at the 
 7* 
 
78 GEORGE MASON, 
 
 river. The steam-boat had just fired its cannon, and 
 swept to the bank in all the pageantry of display, as 
 they arrived. It may be imagined, what an imposing 
 spectacle it presented to boys, who for so many months 
 had seen nothing but log-cabins and trees. Hundreds 
 of waggish boat-men were raising the wind on the deck, 
 and seventy-five or eighty gaily dressed cabin-passen 
 gers sprang ashore, as soon as the plank was put out. 
 A trading-boat was moored a few rods above them. 
 George considered this a good omen. The people on 
 those boats are known to be traders and traffickers, who 
 deal in every thing. Besides, it was to remain there 
 two days, whereas the steam-boat was only to take in 
 wood and a few passengers, and would depart in a cou 
 ple of hours ; of course the first trading essay of the 
 two boys would be made upon the steam-boot. It will 
 be seen that it was but an unpromising business for two 
 ragged boys to carry such articles, as hats and bonnets 
 for sale on board such a steam-boat, returning from New- 
 Orleans, crowded with passengers, some of them dan 
 dies, some of them belles, many of them empty, heart 
 less, and unfeeling, most of them in a careless, tooth 
 pick frame, and scarcely one of them disposed to offer 
 a fair chance to the intended speculation of the boys. 
 True, they were boys with fine faces, and keen observ 
 ers might easily have noted, that they were not common 
 boys. But who of the card-playing people, and the 
 vain women on board the sleam-boat, yawning with en 
 nui, and greedy only for some kind of heartless distrac 
 tion, would inspect them close enough to look beyond 
 their first appearance and their rags? Besides, all 
 that could be supposed capable of such a purchase, 
 had been to the great mart of finery, New-Orleans, and 
 would little think of supplying themselves with any 
 thing they had overlooked there, in such a place as this. 
 All these thoughts were sufficiently obvious oven to the 
 inexperience of George. His heart palpitated. His 
 mouth was dry, and as he gave his hand to his brother 
 
THE YOUNG BACKWOODSMAN. 79 
 
 Henry, to lead him along the plank on board the boat, 
 his very hand was covered with a cold sweat. Never 
 had the poor lad more urgent occasion for his motto, 
 " Don't give up the ship." He assumed the courage 
 of desperation, and walked up to a tall gentleman with 
 an air of patronage and authority, who seemed to be a 
 kind of chief gallant among the ladies. " Will you please 
 to have any of our hats and bonnets, sir ? " said he. 
 
 The gentleman answered carelessly, but kindly, 
 " My boys, I have no need of either." But, as if struck 
 with the singularity of the offer of such articles in such 
 a place ; " let us look at them though," he continued ; 
 " what kind of hats and bonnets do you make here ? " 
 To have a chance to display his articles was an unex 
 pected advantage, and no small point gained. So he 
 very modestly undid his handkerchiefs, and spread his 
 hats and bonnets before the gentleman. It is more 
 than probable, that he had made the proposition to the 
 boys merely to bring about a conversation with: the ladies. 
 " Come, and look, ladies," said he. " Why, they are fine. 
 Upon my word, if we have not come all the way from 
 New-Orleans to a bonnet-market at the Iron Banks ! 
 Who made these articles . ? " he continued, handling them 
 rather rudely. " My mother, and myself," answered 
 George, firmly. " Please not to rumple them, sir." 
 
 By this time a circle was formed round the boys and 
 their articles. Any person, who has witnessed such a 
 scene, knows how little feeling there is in such cases. 
 Some of the ladies showed their wit, by laughing at the 
 bonnets. Another took one of them up and ran to the 
 mirror, screwing it sidewise on ther head, and giving 
 herself a great many pretty airs in this ridiculous posi 
 tion, well pleased to have gained the general laugh of 
 the gentlemen. George felt every ill-natured remark 
 upon his hats and bonnets, as he would have felt an 
 insult upon his mother, and every rude pull upon his 
 bonnets, as though it were upon his heart-strings. His 
 temper, for he was a high-spirited boy, was fifty times 
 
80 GEORGE MASON, 
 
 ready to burst forth. But he sa\v, that all depended 
 upon self-possession. So he swallowed his words, and 
 attempted to conceal the palpitations of his heart, as they 
 agitated his tattered jacket, and bade himself be calm. 
 Some tumbled over his hats, remarking, that they show 
 ed an astonishing ingenuity, and began to ask questions 
 about a family, that could originate such manufactures 
 in such a place. To all these questions George and 
 even Henry had such modest, prompt, and proper an 
 swers, that persons of much thought and feeling would 
 naturally have been aroused to an interest in them. 
 But, unfortunately, there is little of the kind to be ex 
 pected in such circumstances. In such places they 
 generally prefer to show their own wit and talent at 
 ridicule, rather than exercise consideration and benevo 
 lence to little paupers like these. There was, in partic 
 ular, a forward young lady with a fine complexion, who 
 was pretty, conceited, and vain, the belle and the wit of 
 her village, when at home, and she had been a third- 
 rate blue-stocking even at New-Orleans ; she was, more 
 over, wealthy and dressed as fine as colors, ribbands, and 
 lace could make her. She made such ridiculous efforts 
 to squeeze the handsomest bonnet over her huge combs 
 upon her head, as made Henry cry out in terror, " that 
 she would spoil the bonnet." A lady of more charac 
 ter and consideration saw, and pitied the distress of the 
 boy 5 and begged her, if she did not wish to purchase it, 
 at least to return it without injury. This polite and 
 proper rebuke piqued her, nor was it the first time she 
 had been piqued with this lady of superior understand 
 ing, during this trip. She returned the bonnet to George, 
 comparing it with her own Leghorn, however, as she 
 returned it. Her own was certainly a meaner bonnet, 
 though dizzened with ornaments and artificial flowers. 
 " You see, my boy," said she., holding her own beside his, 
 " that I should hardly want to buy such a thing, as this. 
 Still, as you seem to be poor, I will give you half a dol 
 lar." At the same time she offered him one from her 
 
THE YOUNG BACKWOODSMAN. 
 
 81 
 
 splendid purse. Half dollars had been rare visitants 
 with George, and he thought how much it would pur 
 chase for his mother. A glo~w passed over his cheek. 
 He knew not, whether the feeling were pride, resent 
 ment, or proper spirit. He was not casuist enough to 
 decide in a moment, whether he ought or ought not to 
 refuse the money. But he answered promptly, " Thank 
 you, ma'am ; I should be glad to sell, but I did not come 
 to beg. As you do'nt find my bonnets worth buying, I 
 will go." An answer so proper from a boy so young 
 and so dressed, produced an instant and unexpected 
 impression. It did the business for George. It aroused 
 attention, and created instant sympathy. The consider 
 ate lady, who had spoken before, whispered a person 
 who seemed to be her brother, and a momentary con 
 sultation ensued between them, and the gentlemen 
 and ladies in general. The gentleman came forward, 
 and asked George the price of his bonnets and his hats. 
 " Six dollars for the one, four for the other, and sev 
 enty-five cents for each of the hats ; " was the answer. 
 The gentleman remarked, as one who was a judge, that 
 the best bonnet was a fine one, and ought to sell for 
 more than the price asked. He proposed to buy it. and 
 dispose of it in a lottery, to which there was an assent 
 by general acclamation. He paid George six dollars, 
 and took the bonnet. I dare affirm, that receiving these 
 six dollars made him happier than Napoleon was, when, 
 amidst all the splendors of Paris, and the acclamations 
 of marshals and nobles and conquered icings, he put on 
 the imperial crown. The example was contagious. 
 All at once it was discovered, that the hats were light 
 and fine for the approaching summer. The story of the 
 cleverness of the poor boys ran through the crowd. 
 Strong feeling, excited in their favour, gave them credit 
 for even more than they possessed. In a few minutes 
 George had sold five of his hats. 
 
 Delighted beyond measure, he skipped up the lad 
 der among the hundreds, who were crowded on the- 
 
82 GEORGE MASON, 
 
 deck. There was no hope for the sale of the remain 
 ing grass-bonnet among the plain and hardy fellows 
 there. But no one laughed at him for being ragged, 
 and he sold another of his straw hats. The bell rung 
 for all on shore to come on board, and all on board, 
 that did not belong there, to be off. The cannon fired, 
 and George was admonished, that the steam-boat was 
 getting under way. He carefully led his brother Henry 
 ashore, and with feelings very different from those 
 with which he came on board. He had in hand ten 
 dollars and a half, and to him it was the treasure of the 
 Indies. The boys were now in a frame of mind to be 
 delighted with seeing the gay steam-boat, with her col 
 ors raised and her pennons flying, moving majestically 
 round, as the wheels began to throw up the foam, and 
 as she began to take her strong march against the cur 
 rent of the mighty stream. 
 
 There still remained one bonnet and two hats. The 
 boys had now acquired confidence from success, and 
 they walked up the stream a few paces, to where the 
 trading-boat was moored. The two partners, who man 
 aged it, probably took them to be boys bringing eggs 
 on board for. sale. One of them held out his hand, to 
 lead them aboard. 
 
 " What do you ask for your eggs ? " was the ques 
 tion. 
 
 " We have none to sell," answered George, " but an 
 imitation Leghorn bonnet, and a couple of gentlemen's 
 straw hats." 
 
 The traders were shrewd fellows from Connecticut, 
 whose business on the river, as they phrased it with 
 the true northern accent, was " trading and trafficking," 
 and to whom no article of barter came amiss. Like 
 the people in the steam-boat, their curiosity was excit 
 ed by having such articles offered there, in a region, 
 where they had been accustomed to suppose nothing 
 was manufactured. These knowing traders examined 
 the articles with seeming carelessness, but they com- 
 
THE YOUNG BACKWOODSMAN. 83 
 
 prehended the character and circumstances of the boys 
 in a moment, learned that they were Yankess, and 
 perceived, that they offered their articles cheap. They 
 ascertained, too, at once, that they had money, which 
 they wished to expend in purchases. Such an oppor 
 tunity to " trade and traffic " was not to be lost. 
 
 The sight of so many goods, arranged for show and 
 effect, and with many a gaudy article on the external 
 part of the shelves, to strike the eye, could not fail to 
 arrest the admiration of the boys from the woods. 
 Henry held up his hands, exclaiming, '" Oh ! brother, 
 brother, what would I give to carry home some of 
 these fine things to mother and the children. Dear 
 George, you must buy some of these things for them." 
 After a little pretended difficulty about the price, the 
 traders purchased the remaining bonnet and hats. But 
 it was part of the contract, that the boys were to re 
 ceive their pay in goods, and moreover, to expend 
 their money in purchases there, they engaging to furn 
 ish every article as cheap as could be bought at the 
 stores. Sorry I am to say, that George, with all his 
 natural cleverness and quickness, had better thrown his 
 articles into the river, than have dealt with one of these 
 traders. But one of the traders was endowed with a 
 heart and a conscience, strange as it may seem, in his 
 case. The artless story of the boys had moved his 
 pity and his feelings. He was determined, that no ad 
 vantage should be taken of their youth and inexperi 
 ence. He called his partner aside, and told him as 
 much. The younger of the traders re'monstrated, but 
 being the inferior partner, was oblighed to yield, while 
 the elder dealt with them. The whole amount of the 
 purchase was to be sixteen dollars. The trader made 
 many considerate and kind inquiries with a sincere 
 view to inform himself, what they most needed at home. 
 It was a business of extreme perplexity with George, 
 to decide between conflicting claims in their purchases. 
 He went on shore with Henry to consult with him on 
 
84 GEORGE MASON, 
 
 points, that pride forbade him to mention before the 
 traders. After all, it would have occupied all the day, 
 to fix on the specific articles to purchase, had it not 
 been necessary, that he should decide in season to re 
 turn honrxe that night. The important selections at 
 length, after much doubt and solicitude, and aided by 
 the honest and more decided judgment of the trader, 
 were made. They consisted of patterns for a chintz 
 dress for the mother and daughter, a pair of shoes for 
 each, and patterns for a domestic cotton dress for each 
 of the children beside. Two dollars, that remained, 
 were bestowed in coffee and sugar, luxuries that had 
 not been tasted in the family, since the first month 
 after their arrival in the country. The trader had not 
 only given them the full value of their money and arti 
 cles, but had generously allowed them more, and in 
 the noble spirit of saving their feelings, and wishing 
 them to receive it, not as a gift, but as a purchase. 
 The whole amount, when done up in a bundle, was'no 
 inconsiderable package, and constituted a burden too 
 heavy for their strength and the distance they had to 
 travel that night. Fortunately a neighbour from the 
 settlement was in at the river, carrying out a load of 
 articles in his horse-wagon to the settlement. He of 
 fered to take their package, and even themselves back 
 again. But as his wagon was heavily loaded, and in 
 convenient, and uncomfortable, as a vehicle, they thank 
 fully accepted the offer for the transport of their pack 
 age, preferring themselves to return on foot, as they 
 came. 
 
 This matter arranged, away marched the boys for 
 home, with hearts as light as a feather. It was cheer 
 ing to hear their young voices echoing in songs through 
 the woods, as they walked briskly onward. The still 
 dusk of a March sunset overtook them, before they 
 readied home. It happened in this case, as it always 
 happens, that too high a flood of joy is succeeded in 
 the mind by an ebb of sadness. The solemn sensations 
 
 
THE YOUNG BACKWOODSMAN. 85 
 
 of decaying light in the forests, weariness and the reac 
 tion of feelings, that had been too highly excited, drew 
 from Henry, with a long sigh, as they rested for a mo 
 ment, this remark : 
 
 " Dear George, it takes away all rny gladness in car 
 rying our fine things home, to think that my poor, deal- 
 father is gone, never to come back. Oh ! I would 
 give all this world that lie were only alive, and well ; 
 what we have got would render him so happy ! Oh ! 
 how glad he would be to see that we are able to make 
 ourselves cornfonable and take care of ourselves ! I 
 shall never see him more, and I care nothing about all 
 we have bought." 
 
 As this thought came over him, in all its bitterness, 
 his surcharged heart found vent to its feelings in a burst 
 of weeping. George was not a little proud of his repu 
 tation for philosophy, but he had been brooding in his 
 mind over the same gloomy train of remembrance, and 
 this ill-timed remark of his brother, the echo of his own 
 thoughts, so nearly vanquished him, that he was obliged 
 to turn away to conceal the tears, that were forming in 
 his own eyes. While they were thus crying in com 
 pany, their neighbour's was;on came up with them. 
 His company, and the view of their package introduced 
 a new train of thought. They were still two miles 
 from home, and as the wagon parted from their path 
 there, and took another direction, it become neces 
 sary, that they should take their package them 
 selves. It was heavy; but it was a precious burden, 
 and they wiped their eyes, as George thanked the 
 neighbour, and bent his neck to it. As he became 
 weary under his proud burden, Henry shouldered it, 
 and staggered on a quarter of a mile, when George re 
 sumed it. Jn this way, they arrived in view of the 
 house. Twilight was just fading. The wooden shut 
 ters were not closed, and a bright light gleamed from 
 the house. The sweet and subdued voice of the moth 
 er and daughter was heard within, singing the evening 
 8 
 
86 GEORGE MASON, 
 
 hymn. They distinctly heard the burden of the clos 
 ing stanza, 
 
 " Oh, guide the dear ones safely home." 
 
 The family dog received them with his caresses at the 
 door. The two boys threw down their package, as 
 they entered, and rushing to the arms of their mother, 
 made no effort to restrain tears of joy. They both sob 
 bed together, " Father, dear father, if you were only 
 here ! " But the happy tears, and kisses, and embraces, 
 that ensued, were only those of tenderness and joy. 
 They all agreed, that if his spirit could be among them, 
 it would only be to chide them for any other feelings, 
 than those of gladness on this occasion. 
 
 And now, after a half an hour spent in this way, 
 came on, of course, the happy business of unrolling the 
 goods and displaying the individual character of their 
 purchases. My reader may have seen a lady in her 
 birth-night ball-dress. lie may have seen a dandy 
 sport a suit of cluthes in an entire new fashion. He 
 may have imagined high degrees of gratified pride and 
 joy on occasions, which he has seen, or of which lie 
 may have read. But I question, if he has ever seen, 
 ov read of a more real, heart-felt, and honest exultation 
 and joy, than that of this family. Ah! my dear reader, 
 I hope you do not know by experience, as these poor 
 people did, that it is bitter privation, that teaches us the 
 value of things ; that it is poverty which instructs us to 
 be content, and glad, with a little. Who can tell the 
 gladness of heart of this mother and daughter, that they 
 should be once more /lecently clad, and in a garb to 
 be seen ! The two boys were exulting proudly in 
 their own wisdom, cleverness, and management, and as 
 a spice of evil mixes with all our good, I much fear, 
 there was in their hearts a dawning feeling, like 
 that of the exulting monarch, who said, " Is not this 
 great Babylon, which I have luilt ? " Add to this 
 the gratified pride of the mother, in seeing this proof of 
 the premature industry and capacity of her children ; 
 
THE YOUNG BACKWOODSMAN. 
 
 87 
 
 and in witnessing the fulfilment of her departed bus 
 band's prediction, " that God would never forsake them, 
 if they did not forsake themselves." One of the most 
 insupportable b'firdens of extreme poverty was not 
 only thrown off, but a prospect opened of a constant 
 remedy of the same kind for the future. It is not 
 necessary, that the parties should be kings, or rulers, or 
 rich, or distinguished, to be capable of all the joy and 
 all the sorrow, which our nature is susceptible of expe 
 riencing. I dare affirm, that this family, for the first 
 hour of unrolling these articles, and examining their ex 
 cellence, and exclaiming, as well they might, at their 
 cheapness, and making their arrangements for the share 
 which each one of the family should have of them, and 
 in the anticipated joy of the smartness of their appear 
 ance in their new dress, and listening to the story of 
 the sales and purchases, was one of the happiest for the 
 time that existed in our world. 
 
 Mrs. Mason, too, had, like her two sons, her painful 
 revulsion, after the first burst of joy. She remembered 
 the eye that used to kindle with such intense affection 
 at seeing the happiness of his family. She remembered 
 him on whose bosom she had divided her joys and sor 
 rows. She remembered his satisfied look, as he saw 
 his children happily seated round the evening fire. 
 She felt, too, how happy this evening would have made 
 him. It was in vain, that she said to herself, that his 
 ashes only remained with them, under the sycamore, 
 and that his spirit was in heaven, and infinitely above 
 such poor and trifling joys. She was after all but a 
 frail being of flesh ; and unavailing longing for his loved 
 society, to share the happiness of that evening, brought 
 bitterness in the midst of her joy. "Some natural tears 
 she dropp'd, but wip'd them soon." Coffee was pre 
 pared, the first they had tasted for a year, and the ex- 
 hilirating beverage had a relish which they cannot 
 know, to whom it is a daily repast. 
 
 To make the dresses was the work of the mother 
 
88 
 
 GEORGE MASON, 
 
 and daughter. Privation rendered this labor, which in 
 so many instances is considered a painful toil, a delight 
 ful pastime. The boys, the while, were in the field, 
 busily engaged in planting, and delighted, on their re 
 turn from labor, to watch the progress of the important 
 operations within. They within, too, often came out to 
 observe how the labors of the field succeeded. During 
 this inspection, we see George in the honest pride of 
 head workman and overseer in this important business, 
 directing Henry to straighten the rows, and Thomas 
 to take some kernels from the hill, or add them, as he 
 saw the case require. These subalterns, too i had a 
 pride, in manifesting under the eye of their mother, 
 the promptness of their obedience. 
 
 The imagination of the reader may easily supply the 
 details of a considerable interval of time that ensued, 
 marked with no incident but the rejoicings of the suc 
 ceeding Sabbath, in which the family performed their 
 customary Sabbath solemnities, in an entire new dress 
 from head to foot. This was a silent joy, and a pride 
 inly felt ; for each member of the family knew too well 
 the claims of self-respect, to exult externally in the dis 
 play of their finery. We should have mentioned, that 
 since the death of Mr. Mason, Sabbath had been in 
 this family, as near'y a day of the same kind of wor 
 ship as while he lived, as die case vyould admit. It 
 was in vain, that their neighbours strolled by with their 
 dogs and guns, and invited the boys ta share with them 
 the pleasure and the profits of the chase. It was in 
 vain that even the women came past the house with 
 their angling iods to fish in the neighbouring creek. 
 The day had always been in ihat family consecrated to 
 pursuits" worthy of the hopes of immortality, and these 
 duties, so far from being remitted after the head was 
 gone, were more exactly performed. The house was 
 that day a Sabbath-school, a place of worship, a house 
 of instruction in sinking, and in training to all the high 
 thoughts and holy feelings of religion. Neither was it 
 
THE YOUNG BACKWOODSMAN. 89 
 
 a "day of gloom. It had long been inculcated on this 
 family, as onc^pf the first duties of the Sabbath to strive 
 in everjPway to render it a pleasant and a cheerful day 
 to the children. Prayers were recited, select por 
 tions of the Scriptures read, questions propounded, and 
 every duty seasoned with an air of cheerfulness and joy. 
 The day never passed away without an affectionate re 
 membrance of him, whose body mouldered, indeed, 
 under the sycamore near them ; but whose spirit, the 
 mother told them, was, probably, permitted that day to 
 descend from heaven, and to be invisibly present with 
 them. 
 
 The field wns planted, and the corn waved in its 
 beauty. The showers descended, and they vyere again 
 cheered with the prospects of an ample harvest. The 
 materials for the labors of the winter were prepared, as 
 they were matured for gathering. It was a delightful 
 employment to tend their silk-worms. For this season 
 they calculated upon little more, than an experiment. 
 But they contemplated with untiring eagerness and un- 
 sated pleasure the manifestations of the astonishing wis 
 dom and contrivance of Providence in the labors of 
 these humble animals. They admired the beauty of the 
 little silken world, in which they enclosed themselves, 
 and sS\v, in the increase of their stock, and the exten 
 sion of their labors another year, the promise not only 
 of pleasant employment, but of adding to their means 
 of support. There was certainly with them every con 
 ceivable motive to industry. One of their most impor 
 tant arrangements was, after the evening service, to set 
 tle the business of the succeeding day, and parcel out 
 the amount of time, that should be appropriated to each 
 duty. This appreciation of time,' this wise and settled 
 distribution of it beforehand, redeems half a life. By 
 rising an hour earlier than other people, and by draw 
 ing on the evening for an hour later, and by saving two 
 hours every day, by having all the employments of the 
 day, and the length of time to be devoted to each, set- 
 S* 
 
90 GEORGE MA5ON, 
 
 tied beforehand, four hours every day were gained upon 
 their most industrious neighbours. 
 
 Yet, with their utmost industry, the evils of- poverty 
 pressed hard upon them. Their sugar and coffee were 
 soon expended, anJ the priva;ion rendered more bitter 
 by the inclination for it having been rekindled, and the 
 habit renewed by this transient indulgence. A single 
 dress for each of them only rendered the want of 
 a change more striking and painful. The doctor's bill 
 and the tax bill were presented anew with a sneering 
 remaik, that "people ought to pay their debts before 
 they made themselves fine.''' There were a hundred 
 other things to which they, stinted as their means had 
 been, had been formerly used, which were necessary to 
 common com (bit, and the want of which was felt to be 
 sufficiently galling. But poor people, that have reli 
 gion and good sense, learn to bear many evils, and to 
 endure the want oi many tilings, without envy or re 
 pining. The mother nightly inculcated upon them, 
 thai it was not only making themselves miserable, but 
 wicked, to fret, and murmur, because others had means 
 and comforts which they had not, or to harbour angry 
 and revengeful feelings towards even those who despised 
 them on account oi' their poverty. 
 
 The spring and the summer passed away calmly, and 
 without other incidents than thote, every where brought 
 about by the silent march of time. The sun, the moon, 
 and stars kept their hours of rising and rest. Their 
 days sped in noiseless privacy, in these calm and inno 
 cent employments. Every day added to the strength 
 of the children and developed the energy, firmness, and 
 forecast of George. Their amount of silk was laid by 
 for future winding. An abundant supply of the article 
 for the manufacture of the coming winter was provided. 
 At this period of hope and cheerful anticipation, a 
 catastrophe befel them of which they had been fore 
 warned, but which yet fell upon them like a thunder 
 stroke. They had been told, that they must expect 
 
THE YOUNG BACKWOODSMAN. 91 
 
 the sickness of acclimation, called " seasoning," in the 
 phrase of the country. They had been too busy, too 
 much occupied, and too deep in schemes of the iulure, 
 to think of sickness, until it came. 
 
 The corn had just beiiun lo whiten on the ears, and 
 the intense heats of sumiu-er to soften into the milder 
 temperature of autumn, when, at ten in the morning, 
 Mrs Mason felt a chill, which compelled her to take 
 to her bed. Her lips and her hands had the customary 
 livid appearance. She had hardly lain clown, before 
 the three younger children came in from the field, all 
 attacked in the same way. The little discouraged trem- 
 blers bestowed themselves on their beds. The spasms 
 of the chill in each were most severe. From Madam 
 Mason to her youngest child, their teeth chattered, and 
 a kind of low, mourning nuise accompanied such violent 
 and spasmodic shaking, as made the cabin tremble, and 
 their few earthern plates on the shelf, beside their beds, 
 were heard to clatter with the united shudderings. 
 Each one was under the influence of a delirious excite 
 ment, like that of opium, and the cry of" drink ! drink!" 
 was, uttered with the eager earnestness of a traveller, 
 expiring with thirst, on the parched sands of a desert. 
 In their wild conversations, it was affecting to hear the 
 younger children call upon their father, in such a vari 
 ety of tone and supplication, as would have moved a 
 heart of stone. A couple of hours passed in this way, 
 when they dozed for a few moments, and then aroused 
 with cheeks crimson with fever, and another kind of 
 delirium, attended with new tones and accents of dis 
 tress. Eliza and George were continually carrying the 
 water-gourds, first to one, and then to the other. The 
 patients -eized the vessel with a convulsive grasp, and 
 held to it so lorg, that one would have thought they would 
 have suffocated by the eagerness and duration of their 
 drinking. This paroxysm endured something, longer 
 than the former, and when this passed, a few moments 
 of agony succeeded ; when the sweat began to start, 
 
92 GEORGE MASON, 
 
 slowly at first, and without much sensation of relief. 
 But soon it burst from every pore, and dropped from 
 each particular tress of hair, as though their solid flesh 
 would "resolve into a dew." This immediately 
 brought calmness and relief, and a delightful languor, 
 which they only know, who have felt it, attended by 
 such soothing and tranquillizing sensations, as we may 
 suppose to belong to the spirit of the just, after the last 
 struggles of escape from the prison of the flesh. But 
 though relieved, they were so weak, as to be unable to 
 rise from their beds. A thick fog rose above the tops 
 of the trees, and the sun went down in utter and Egyp 
 tian darkness. What a night for this family, of which 
 two only of the children could walk f om bed to bed of 
 the sick ! Eliza was, as might be expected from 
 her age and sex, subdued and pale as death. 
 George felt that the grand trial of his fortitude was 
 come. He repeated his grand maxim, as he kindled 
 the evening light ; told them in the common rjroverb, 
 u that the darkest time in the night was just before 
 morning;" talked with calmness of this sickness, as- the 
 common course of things in the country; and remark 
 ed, that though distressing to endure, they ought all to 
 be thankful, that it was by no means a dangerous dis 
 order, and prophesied with deep .apparent conviction, 
 that not only would they all be shortly well from this 
 " seasoning," but find it to be the harbinger of good 
 fortune again. 
 
 Still he was aware, tlral in such violent attacks, 
 something must be done, to arrest the fury of the dis 
 order. He consulted none but his sister. He made 
 every considerable arrangement, within the limits of 
 their slender means, to meet the renewal of the parox 
 ysm, which, he was aware, the patients must expect agah 
 on the morrow; and he was away before the dawn in 
 the morning on the road to the river for the doctor. 
 There was now no brother Henry to accompany him, 
 whose prattle might serve to beguile him on the 
 
THE YOUNG BACKWOODSMAN. 93 
 
 way. The day was sultry, and the subject of his med 
 itations dreary and full of gloom. We need not imagine, 
 what he thought and felt. Courage and affection 
 achieve miracles. He reached the river early in the 
 day. The doctor could not accompany him back, but 
 promised, as is customary in that climate, and at that 
 season, to avoid heat and flies, and to save time, that 
 he would start for the sick family at midnight. George 
 was on his return by half after ten in the morning. He 
 had already measured half his distance home, when he 
 felt himself suddenly seized with a chill. So violent 
 was the attack, that after walking t\vo or three minutes 
 under its endurance, he was obliged to stop and sit 
 down. Fortunate-ly the disease had arrested him on 
 the bank of a rivulet and at the ford. He crawled on 
 his hands and knees through the mud, and reclining 
 over the water, drank as long as he could hold his 
 breath. A momentary relief flashed an impulse of 
 courage through his frame, that he should be able to 
 resume his journey. He waded through the ford, and 
 staggered on a few steps. All would not do. Every 
 thing flashed before his eyes, in long and flaky streams 
 of green and yellow light, succeeded by darkness. His 
 head swam, and thick pantings oppressed his bosom. 
 The poor fellow fell, but fortunately on the moss at the 
 foot of a sycamore. It was some minutes before he 
 returned to himself; and as he felt as he had never 
 felt before, and perceived that he was covered with a 
 cold and clammy sweat, his first thought was, that the 
 hand of death was upon him. Even then, the noble 
 lad thought only of the poor sufferers at home, looking 
 in vain through the evening and the night for his return. 
 It was Ions; before he could gather strength to repeat 
 his adage, and resume his cotirage. He settled himself 
 as comfortably as he could, on the moss, and in a posi 
 tion as convenient as might be to crawl to the stream. 
 It was a thought sufficiently gloomy, it must be admit 
 ted, for such a lad to contemplate his probable chance 
 
GEORGE MASON, 
 
 of expiring there in the woods, unattended and alone, 
 and, perhaps, be devoured by panthers, or wolves, even 
 before the death of nature had taken place ; and leave 
 the sufferers at-home entirely forlorn. But he said, 
 ." Our 'Father, vvho art in heaven ! " and he prayed first 
 for those at home, and then for himself, and laid him 
 self down to await the disposal of Providence. His 
 paroxysm was increased by his fatigue, and the want of 
 a bed, and the comforts, which even his home would 
 have afforded. He was afflicted with partial delir 
 ium and devouring thirst. Once more he fainted in 
 his efforts to crawl up the bank, after drinking. It 
 seemed'to him, indeed, on regaining his couch of moss, 
 that he must expire in the woods. Such was his situ 
 ation, as .the dark night came upon him, and the distant 
 howl of the wolves rung in his ear. In the midst of his 
 thoughts within him, it occurred to him, that at one in 
 the night the doctor would pass that way, and that, by 
 that time, his fever would be so far abated, as that he 
 might be able to ride home behind him. But then it 
 would be necessary, that he should remain awake, or 
 the doctor would pass him ignorant that he was 
 there. The sweat soon began to flow, and he was 
 easy, languid, and his eyes SD heavy, that sleep seemed 
 irresistibly to weigh upon his eye-lids. He attempted 
 a hundred expedients to keep himself awake. An in 
 vincible drowsiness pressed upon him, and nature levi 
 ed her tribute. He fell into a profound sleep. The 
 angels of Goc} not only guarded this pale and exhausted 
 lad from the wolves, but inspired pleasant dreams into 
 his innocent bosom. He fancied that he had just ar 
 rived home. His mother and the children were recov 
 ered, and" were about him with kisses and caresses. 
 Water seemed to be hande"d to him, and in his eager 
 ness to grasp the gourd, and bring it to his lips, he 
 awoke himself from his dream, just as he heard the dis 
 tant trampling of the doctor approaching on horseback. 
 Jt might have startled another, to have been thus call- 
 
THE YOUNG BACKWOODSMAN. 95 
 
 ed upon, as he passed, by a feeble human voice, im 
 ploring aid at that hour and in that place. But the doc 
 tor was a man of temperament, such as not to find mir 
 acles in incidents wide from the commofjf and when he 
 learned the v state of the case, it was nothing strange to 
 him, to find a sick lad on the way, who had just passed 
 the paroxysm of the ague. He made some difficulty 
 about taking him up behind him, remarking, that he 
 seemed very comfortably situated there, and that he 
 could notify his mother, to have him sent for in the 
 morning. Poor George had to exert himself to the ut 
 most to be taken up. But he succeeded at length, and 
 was carried home. 
 
 Eliza of course had found it necessary to instruct her 
 mother, as the fever returned upon the family in the 
 morning, what was become of George. I need 
 not say how they endured their severe fever thnt day, 
 or what they thought, when they found, that- George 
 did not. return at night. When he did return, he found, 
 that Eliza, towards night, had been attacked in her 
 turn, and that the family had suffered inexpressibly for 
 water. But they were still alive, and the -sight of him 
 and the doctor revived their spirits. Tiie doctor pre 
 scribed as he thought the case required, and I am sorry 
 to add, that it appeared to him, to call for cheap medi 
 cines. He was one of those physicians who make most 
 exertions for those who pay best. Physicians, gener 
 ally, are kind men, and there are few, who would have 
 left a helpless family in the woods, will) the nearest 
 neighbour distant two miles, and each member so sick, 
 as to be unable to go to the spring and bring a gourd of 
 water for the rest, without having attempted sn ar 
 rangement, to procure some one to nurse them. But 
 this doctor had a thick head and an unfeeling heart. 
 He daily saw much misery and sickness of the same 
 sort, and he thought very little upon the scene before 
 him, except, that it afforded him little immediate pros 
 pect of a bill. He thought in this case, I rather imag- 
 
96 GEORGE MASON, 
 
 ine, if he thought at all upon the subject, that men were 
 made to be sick, take pills, and pay the doctor; and 
 as this family could not do the la'st, he felt it right to 
 hurry away to. ihe care of some patients who could. Be 
 that as it may, he left the family, in which no one was 
 able to walk to the spring, to shift for themselves. They 
 had all taken medicine, and this had produced an exa 
 cerbation of the morning attack. It was distressing to 
 hear their groans during the paroxysm, and their inces 
 sant cries for drink. However Mrs. Mason and George 
 might be able to sustain the agony of thirst in silence, 
 it was an effort of self-restraint not to be expected of 
 the rest. 
 
 For aught that appears, they might all have expired 
 together, without any relief, had not Providence in its 
 own merciful way, sent them aid. Their nearest 
 neighbour had an old slave, Pompey by name, who was 
 a melhodist professor of religion, who was really and in 
 good earnest religious, not from stubbornness, or laziness, 
 as masters are apt to charge their slaves with being, when 
 they pretend to that thing. Pompey had been on an er 
 rand to the river, and had returned that way. Hearing 
 the groans within, he was induced to stop, and enter 
 the cabin. What a scene was before him ! There was 
 none to bring them water to quench their burning thirst. 
 His kind heart was affected. He repaired to the 
 spring, and returned with a coupfe of gourds full of 
 water. He gave them drink. He opened the shut 
 ters to ventilate the room. He cut green boughs, and 
 put in the windows, to keep out the sun, and admit the 
 coolness of the air. He grated the tender corn of the 
 half ripe ears, and made them gruel. He made their 
 beds, and aided them to change from the one to the 
 other, while he did it. In short, he did every thing, 
 which a diligent and affectionate nurse could do, with 
 the means of the house, and then he fell on his knees 
 beside their bed, and prayed with them. Nor was his 
 prayer less effectual in thy divine ear, or less cheering 
 
THE YOUNG BACKWOODSMAN. 97 
 
 and consoling to the patients, because it was uttered in 
 the broken accents of an African dialect. He then sat 
 by them, and talked to them in his good-natured and 
 affectionate way, bidding them take courage, and prom 
 ising them, that he would hurry home, and ask leave of 
 his master to return and watch with them. And as he 
 was old, and as he said, of little account in the field, he 
 had no doubt, that his master would allow him to come 
 back, and stay with them. He added, " Me cure 
 heap people of the ague. Me know six times more 
 about him than the doctor. Me come and cure you 
 all." 
 
 A solemn conversation between the mother and these 
 children on their beds ensued. The two younger chil 
 dren were wild with the delirium of fever. Henry, 
 Eliza, and the mother were in utter despondency, and 
 certainly few prospects on the earth can be imagined 
 more gloomy than theirs. The only article in the cabin 
 for sustenance was corn-meal, and the alternative be 
 fore them seemed only that of perishing of sickness, or 
 hunger. George, though the sickest of the whole, held 
 fast to his grand maxim. He declared an undoubting 
 confidence, that things would yet go well with them. 
 He called them to consider, how mercifully God had 
 dealt with them in many respects already, From 
 their rich experience of the Divine mercy, in time pasfy 
 he called them to take courage for all the future. 
 None, but people so situated, know what invigorating 
 refreshment arises, to cheer despondency, and banish 
 despair*, from one such firm and undoubting prophet of 
 good. 
 
 In due time Pornpey came. The kind-hearted and 
 considerate slave had looked deeply into their condi 
 tion, and had fully espied the nakedness of the land. 
 From the stores of his fellow-servants lie had brought a 
 little sugar and tea. Of his master he had begged 
 powder and shot. He killed squirrels and partridges in 
 an hour's hunt. With these and grated corn he pre- 
 9 
 
98 GEORGE MASON, 
 
 pared a nutritive and rich soup. He then went along 
 the run, and gathered Eupatorium Perfoliatum, or 
 Thorough Wort. He gave each one a cup of the in- . 
 fusion of those leaves, a grand remedy among the 
 the slaves in such cases, and perhaps the best that can 
 be given. The medicine operated at once powerfully, 
 and gently, and 'when the fever, and the effect of the 
 medicine were passed, a devouring appetite returned to 
 them. Nothing could be more restorative than the 
 soup which Pompey had prepared for them. At nine 
 he made tea. Their fear and dejection were dispelled, 
 as by a charm, and the kind black fellow was in the 
 midst of them, a sort of ministering angel, and enjoying 
 their thankfulness and their hopes, with all the sym 
 pathy of his affectionate nature. He prayed with them 
 again in the earnest language of thanksgiving and praise, 
 and he sung his own wild hymns, as a part of the wor 
 ship. Nor did he take his sleep on his blanket beside 
 them on the floor, until he had ascertained, that each 
 one of his patients was asleep. 
 
 Next day, it is true, their fever returned, but with 
 symptoms of abated violence, and an hour later in the 
 day. The same medicine, and the same regimen were 
 repeated and with the same effect. The period of 
 fever was short, and the attack of this day comparative- 
 fy mild. The third day of his attendance, instead of 
 the infusion of Thorough Wort, he gave an infusion of 
 Dog Wood, Wild Cherry, and Yellow Poplar bark. On 
 the fourth day nothing of their sickness remained, but a 
 kind of pleasing languor, and Pompey pronounced the 
 fever broken, assuring them, that all that was now 
 necessary, was to use great caution to prevent relapse, 
 or in his phrase, " getting it again." They were now 
 alt "able to help each other. Leaving them materials 
 for soup, and killing them an abundance of small wild 
 game, obtained in those woods, with but a small effort, he 
 left them with the tears and blessings of them that were 
 ready to perish, as his reward. As they shook hands 
 
THE YOUNG BACKWOODSMAN. 99 
 
 at parting, George gave him his promise, if he was ever 
 able, as he hoped one day to be, to purchase him and 
 give him his freedom. In a few days the family were 
 fully recovered, and resumed their usual routine of 
 cheerful and religious occupation and industry. They 
 had, indeed, incurred an additionol debt of twelve dol 
 lars to the leaden-hearted physician, who shortly let 
 them know as much, by presenting his bill. 
 
100 GEORGE MASON, 
 
 CHAPTER VI. 
 
 Many a sin-worn face 
 Was pale, and woman's sympathetic tears, 
 And children's flow'd ; and men's, who thought no shame 
 In tears. 
 
 THIS family had abundant reason to regard the mer 
 ciful interposition of Providence, in not imposing upon 
 them a double burden at the same time, or one greater 
 than they could bear. The affection of Hercules Pin- 
 dall for Eliza still seemed to preponderate over his re 
 sentments. He was soothed, too, by learning, that the 
 family had promptly rejected similar proposals to his 
 made by Mr. Garvin, in behalf of his son Jethro. A 
 coolness existed between those two families, originating 
 with Mr. Pindall, and founded on the presumption, 
 manifested by his neighbour, in thinking of a movement 
 of that sort, in which even he had been unsuccessful. 
 From the circumstance of the continued passion of 
 young Hercules, or from some cause, it happened, that 
 the dreaded writ of ejection had never yet issued 
 against their humble premises, and a kind of doubtful 
 truce seemed yet to be exercised towards the family, 
 which, it was considered probable, would lake the form 
 of alliance, or war, according as Eliza and her mother 
 should favor, or reject the suit. 
 
 An invitation to the whole family to accompany the 
 Pindall family to a camp-meeting, distant twenty miles 
 among the hills, was urged with so much earnestness, 
 mixed with half threats, in case of refusal, that it was 
 deemed advisable to accept it. There was less plea for 
 rejecting'it, for now all the family was comfortably and 
 decently clad from their own means. They were in 
 formed, too, that a separate carriage should be provided 
 for the family, and all the necessary arrangements made 
 for its subsistence, while out on this religious expedi- 
 
THE YOUNG BACKWOODSMAN, //, 101 
 
 tion. The idea of a ride in the country was pleasant 
 to Mrs. Mason, and delightful to the children, except 
 Eliza ; so that, on the whole, the day was awaited with 
 impatience. 
 
 The time of the camp-meeting had been appointed 
 with reference to the mild and delightful weather in 
 autumn, commonly called Indian Summer, and happen 
 ed on a morning of one of those beautiful days, when 
 the weather is changing to coolness, and when the 
 leaves are in the stage between verdure and the yellow 
 tints of approaching winter. Hercules and his father 
 rode on horse-back, accompanied by half a dozen ne 
 gro servants, and a four-horse baggage-wagon, loaded 
 with provisions, and a couple of tents ; and the family 
 carriage, in which were Mrs. Pindall and daughter, and 
 Mrs. Mason, and all her family. The conversation 
 that took place in the carriage turned upon the custom 
 ary topics. Mrs. Pindall often descanted with a moth 
 er's eloquence, pride, and affection upon her darling 
 Hercules, and without coming directly to the point, 
 took care to draw sufficiently alluring pictures of the hap 
 piness, that would crown the wife, of whom he should 
 be the husband ; and Mrs. Mason expressed herself de 
 lighted with the romantic solitudes on the eastern side 
 of the Mississippi. When they came among the hills, 
 every thing was a charm to the delighted children. 
 Eliza was cheerful, and sometimes made a remark, ac 
 companied by an arch expression of the eye, which 
 told, what she would have said, had the company been 
 pleasant, and her heart light. Miss Letitia found it in 
 keeping to be romantic, and she talked over all that 
 she could remember of all the trumpery novels, that 
 she had read, and found this one to be " the most de- 
 lightfullcst, and that the most genteelest, and the other 
 the most sentimentalist novel," that she had ever read. 
 They took their dinner under a prodigious yellow pOp- 
 lar, on the margin of a clean branch, and had claret and 
 coffee, to carry down the solid parts of the repast. On 
 9* 
 
GEORGE MASON 
 
 their arriving at the ground, Miss Letitia insisted, and 
 Mrs. Mason gave a silent assent to the remark, that this 
 had been a most pleasant clay. 
 
 Long before they arrived at the place of destination, 
 they were passed by multitudes, on horseback, or in 
 various kinds of carriages. They passed multitudes 
 on foot, some mothers carrying a babe in their arms, 
 and having two or three small children holding to them. 
 The very woods seemed to be alive, and populous, and 
 the groves pouring forth their sequestered sons from 
 every side towards the central point of attraction. The 
 place of worship was in the midst of a grove of those 
 noble and beautiful tulip trees, so natural to that region. 
 The spot was a deep verdant bottom-valley. On the 
 east and south it was surrounded by high precipitous 
 hills, faced with an almost perpendicular lime-stone wall, 
 in its fissures charmingly marked with prodigious tossels 
 of the most verdant fern. A clear spring branch rolled 
 gently through it, sufficiently broad and deep, to reflect 
 the trees, and the pillared clouds of the firmament. 
 There were the ambitious and wealthy, because in this 
 region opinion is all powerful, and they were there, either, 
 to extend their influence, or that their absence might 
 not be marked, to diminish it. Aspirants for office 
 were there, to electioneer, and gain popularity. Vast 
 . numbers were there, from simple curiosity, and merely 
 to enjoy a spectacle. The young and beautiful were 
 there with mixed motives, which, perhaps, it were best 
 not severely to scrutinize. Children were there, their 
 young eyes glistening with the intense interest of eager 
 curiosity. The middle-aged fathers and mothers of 
 families were there, with the sober views of people, 
 whose plans in life were fixed, and calmly waiting to 
 hear. Men and women with hoary hairs were there, 
 with such thoughts, it may be hoped, as their years in 
 vited. Such was the congregation consisting of thou 
 sands. 
 
 A host of preachers of different denominations was 
 
THE YOUNG BACKWOODSMAN. 103 
 
 there, some in the earnest vigor of youth, waiting an 
 opportunity for display ; others, who had proclaimed 
 the gospel, as missionary-pilgrims, from the rem-otest 
 north of our vast country to the shores of the Mexican 
 gulf, and were ready to utter the words, the feelings, and 
 the experience, which they had treasured up in a travel 
 ling ministry of fifty years, and whose tones and accents, 
 trembling with age, still more impressively, than their 
 language, announced, that their travels, their toils, and 
 their missionary warfare was soon to terminate. Such 
 were the preachers. 
 
 The two families arrived about sunset, and were re 
 ceived with the marked di-tinction, due to the wealth and 
 importance of Mr. Pindall, a distinction, which, with 
 all its characteristic marks, has found its way even into 
 these woods. Mrs. Mason had been accustomed to 
 think of a camp-meeting with unpleasant associations 
 of every sort. She was therefore in a frame of mind, 
 peculiarly fitted to receive the magic impression of the 
 scene before her. Distant acquaintances and friends, 
 who had not met for years before, here met again. 
 Persons, who knew each other only by dim and, per 
 haps, disfigured description, here met, and were intro 
 duced, and contemplated one another face to face. 
 Long previous canvassing of the merits of the respec 
 tive preachers was here resumed again. The religious 
 were awaiting to hear that their expiring sentiments 
 migbt be rekindled ; the witty, that they might find sub 
 jects for their supposed wit and criticism. In fact, 
 scarcely an element of excitement for the human heart 
 can be imagined, that was not here. Of course, the 
 interchange of apostolic greetings and salutations among 
 the stricken in years, the embraces of women and young 
 girls, the hearty recognition of young men ; the eager 
 questionings, how the time had passed, and the color of 
 the incidents, that had marked it, since they had last 
 met ; the seeming vanishment of the chill indifference of 
 interest and ordinary life, and in its stead the assumption 
 
104. GEORGE MASON, 
 
 of an earnestness, warmth, and life, apparently belonging 
 to a more disinterested and warm-hearted and sublimed 
 race of beings than men ; marked these meetings, and 
 seemed to indicate, that in coming here, they had come 
 to a holier region, and a new country, where the air was 
 love, and where every one cared, not only for the things 
 of himself, but also, for those of his neighbour. 
 
 Mean while a hundred negroes, dressed in their holi 
 day finery, pitched the tents in lines under the rustling 
 of the tulip trees, and just beside the margin of the 
 stream. In the suburbs of this religious city, the growth 
 of a few hours, there were some tents, where the care 
 less, or the irreligious lingered, where cakes, wine, and 
 refreshments were sold, and dispensed ; and where the 
 extremes of frivolity, merriment, and pleasure were 
 brought in direct contrast with those of religious excite 
 ment. Lamps were hung in lines among the surrounding 
 branches, and fires, kindled with pitchy fragments of 
 pine, blazed in front of the tents, and diffused a glare 
 through the forests, and on the sides and summits of tfae 
 hoary bluffs. Coffee and tea were prepared ; and as 
 they sat down to a religious supper, thus furnished, and 
 transported, as they seemed to be, to paradise, even the 
 subdued heart of Mrs. Mason swelled with tender re 
 membrances and undefinable emotions, in which, how 
 ever, pleasure and joy predominated. The hearts of 
 her children danced in rapture. 
 
 By the time that their supper was finished, the moon, 
 broadened and purpled with the mists of Indian summer, 
 began to show her calm orb above the summits of the 
 bluffs, and to pour her pensive and religious light upon 
 the hills, the trees, and the immense gathering of the 
 people. A few stars were seen glimmering through the 
 branches, and dancing in the moving waters of the gen 
 tle stream. The whole scene was as a temple, fitted up 
 with a magnificence and grandeur worthy of a God. 
 
 "Oh ! " said Eliza, as she pressed her mother's hand, 
 il that my dear, dear father were here ! How differently 
 
THE YOUNG BACKWOODSMAN. 
 
 105 
 
 would he think of a camp-meeting ! what a glorious 
 place must be that heaven where he will dwell for ever." 
 Thirty preachers of all ages surrounded the " stand." 
 But the first preacher of the evening was on old man, 
 apparently fourscore, in a dress of the quaintest simplici 
 ty. As he mounted the stand, the glare of the lights 
 upon the polished baldness of his crown, and the thin 
 gray locks that time had spared, and the furrowed 
 wrinkles of his brow, gave him an aspect of fragility 
 and unearthly elevation above flesh and blood, that pre 
 pared the hearers to be impressed, with what he was 
 about to say. In a voice, which was so modulated by 
 age, earnestness, or natural tone, as if it were from a 
 being of another sphere, he gave out that sweet hymn, 
 
 " Thou shepherd of Israel and mine, 
 Thou joy and desire of my heart," &c. 
 
 Instantly the voices of the whole assembled multitude 
 burst forth in an air, familiar to all the people of this 
 region, and as it swelled, and died away among the 
 hills, and forests, and was returned softened in the ech 
 oes, I should deem poorly of the heart, that would not 
 have been affected, and prepared to receive the full 
 impressions of religion. The hoary orator prayed as 
 one who felt, that he was soon to be " caught up ; " and 
 in his exhortations he spake deeply on a deep theme, 
 such as the peace of those, who love God, and have a 
 confidence that He has forgiven their sins ; the misery 
 and the ruin of those suicide reprobates, who turn their 
 backs on God, and despise their own mercies, the hopes, 
 joys, and terrors of eternity ; his own experiences, his 
 travels, toils, and wanderings, his persecutions and wel 
 comes, the many, that he had seen in hope, in peace 
 and triumph, entering the " dark valley;" his determin 
 ed purpose to be diligent through his short remainder 
 of timo, his deep regrets, that the increasing burdens 
 and infirmities of years were taking from him the power 
 to proclaim the mercies of his Saviour ; the hope that 
 he should meet at least some of those present, as his 
 
106 
 
 GEORGE MASON, 
 
 trophies, and his crown in the day of the Lord Jesus 
 such were the themes of this aged servant of Jesus 
 Christ. He had no need of the studied trick of orato 
 ry, to produce the deepest movements of the heart. He 
 was compelled, occasionally, to pause, to dash the gath 
 ering tears from his own eyes. His audience, almost 
 as one person, melted into tears. Even those, who 
 poized themselves on intellectual superiority, and the 
 pride of a nobler insensibility than the crowd, caught the 
 infectious tenderness, and melted into tears, like the 
 rest, and many scoffers, " who came to scoff, remained 
 to'pfay." 
 
 Unhappily these scenes of high excitement are apt to 
 foster and energize all kinds of sentiments, as well those 
 of the animal, as the intellectual nature ; and while the 
 worshippers, generally, had been rekindling the decay 
 ing fires of devotion at the altar, others had been only 
 increasing the intensity of unhallowed ardors. Beauty 
 is never so lovely, as when lighted up with the inward 
 radiance of devotion. Many a person present had re 
 marked Mrs. Mason as the young and lovely widow; 
 for in truth, the excitement of the scene, and the glow 
 of faith and of hope, which it had kindled, had colored 
 her pale cheek, and had imparted a juvenile brilliance 
 to her eye. What was the effect, then, on Eliza, by 
 the influence of a new climate, prematurely developing 
 into the form, feature, and beauty of maturity ? Poor 
 Hercules, and Jethro Garvin, and many others, had 
 felt to their cost how much more lovely she had 
 seemed here, than they had seen her before. But the 
 sanctity of her manner, and the inspirations of the place, 
 had awed them to silence, and had saved her mother 
 and herself much pain, which they had armed them 
 selves to endure, in hearing these swains talk of their 
 love and constancy. The meeting of three days broke 
 up, and the audience dispersed, without an unpleasant 
 incident, save that Hercules and Jethro, on their way 
 home, brought it to a battle, to decide whose claims of 
 
THE YOUNG BACKWOODSMAN. 107 
 
 the two should be resigned to the other, in case Eliza 
 admitted either. In this case, Hercules, like his famed 
 prototype, fairly vanquished the monster, who assumed 
 to come between him and his love, and remained mast 
 er of the field, and his pretensions. 
 
 The father and mother of Hercules were sufficiently 
 weary of this hopeless pursuit of a portionless child, 
 who had nothing but beauty, and were heartily desir 
 ous, that their son should relinquish the chase. But 
 the young master inherited from his father a sufficient 
 portion of that spirit, wich is either a great virtue, or 
 fault, according, as it is perseverance, or obstinacy. 
 He ceased not to tease them, until they had partly 
 wearied, and partly intimidated Mrs. Mason, to give 
 her consent, to carry her family to see the next horse 
 race. As it is a spectacle, which every body in the 
 southern and south-western country attends, as it is one 
 of their capital amusements, and a scene of the next 
 degree of interest to a camp-meeting, I arn not un 
 willing, that the reader should accompany the widow 
 and her orphans to a scene, which some will think im 
 proper for her to have witnessed. Others will view it, 
 as do most of even the religious people of the south, 
 and will consider, that this tender mother had constant 
 ly before her eyes the study, not to break with her 
 powerful neighbours ; the fear, that their aroused ven 
 geance might eject her and her orphans from their 
 humble home, and throw them upon the naked ele 
 ments. What do I know? Perhaps in the different 
 views which mothers take of this thing, from their 
 daughters', she mused in the recesses of her thoughts, 
 that the constancy and importunity of the young man 
 might wear out the aversion of her daughter, and se 
 cure an asylum for her and the family, at least from the 
 evils of poverty. Whatever were the motive, she con 
 sented to accompany the Pindalls to the horse-race. 
 , On the appointed day, away gallopped Hercules and 
 his young companions; and behind them rolled the 
 
 

 108 GEORGE MASON. 
 
 family carriage, with the family of Mrs. Mason along 
 with his mother and sister ; and still behind them, the 
 father and his neighbours brought up the rear. It was 
 a day of huzza and jubilee, and all parties seemed to 
 feel, that the subdued and silent spirit of the camp- 
 meeting was out of place. The negroes, that remained 
 behind, and those, who were allowed to attend the race, 
 parted by singing in alternate divisions, and in their 
 loudest and merriest, " Old Virginia never tire ! " Those 
 that remained, huzzaed for Green Mantle, and those 
 that went for the Cedar Snag. Even the hounds felt 
 the difference between this occasion and the other, and 
 lifted up their long and lantern jaws, and howled to a 
 merry key. 
 
 The place of meeting was a beautiful island-prairie, 
 in the midst of an immeasurable extent of woods, as 
 level, and as smooth, as a shaven and rolled walk. In 
 fact, the " heat," a narrow turnpike of two miles, re 
 turning by an elliptical curve to the goal, had been 
 shaven, and harrowed down. Under the shade of 
 oaks and holly trees, covered with grape vines on the 
 edge of this prairie, were raised galleries, or stands, 
 about six feet above the surface, of an extent, to ac 
 commodate all the spectators, that did not choose to 
 remain on the turf. A horse-race assembles all the 
 beauty and youth arid gaiety of the southern country, 
 and here it is seen arrayed in all its splendor and 
 charms. Beside a great number of small races, that 
 would be considered to be episodes, to take down the 
 excitement of the chief one, there were to be rnerry 
 races of asses and " chunks," by persons, who volun 
 teered, as the fools, or Merry-Andrews of the meeting. 
 The capital race was between the famous racers, Green 
 Mantle and Cedar Snag. The partisans of these 
 horses, and those, who. had staked high bets, wore, 
 badges, the one of green and the other of red, corres- . 
 ponding to that of the latter horse. The jockeys and 
 riders were habited in close silk dresses, of these re- ' 
 
 m 
 
THE YOUNG BACKWOODSMAN. 109 
 
 spective colors, with jockey caps to match. Such was 
 the strength of feeling and of party in the case, that 
 probably, with the exception of Mrs. Mason's family, 
 there were scarcely any persons, male or female, 
 young or old, black or white, but what had a bet de 
 pending on the race. By-bets, as they were called, and 
 increased bets, were continually forming, and persons 
 of honor and grave presence for such occasions were 
 invoked, to attest the terms, and prescribe the forms. 
 The judges were enclosed in awful sanctity from the 
 crowd by a railing. Long before the race was started, 
 there 'had been a number of fist-fights, in which the 
 eyes of the parties about to bet, were bunged up, that 
 their judgments might be less diverted by visible ob 
 jects from a sagacious calculation in regard to the issue 
 of the race. Here might be seen, a in concentrated form, 
 the readiness of the American people, to form parties, 
 and to be stirred up by the fury of party spirit. A 
 bully comes forward, and cries out, u The Green Man 
 tle beats the field," adding an oath, that I jhoose to 
 omit. " Here 's my fist for five dollars, and a fight for 
 Green Mantle.'' " Done," says another ; " ten to your 
 five, and here's at you." Upon the word, they fall to 
 it, and fight, until one, or the other, is hors du combat. 
 Meanwhile, at the cake and grog stands, the matter is 
 debated by the bumpkins and boys and negroes and 
 yellow women, with as much ardor, as by the planters 
 themselves. At the same lime, there are mock-races 
 along the sides of the prairies, between chunks and mules, 
 and blind horses, to the great amusement and delight of 
 the rnob around them. The while, there werp negroes, 
 and awkward boys, and men, who were awnre that 
 they had this sole chance for distinction, riding back 
 and forward, across the field, spurring;, and whipping 
 their horses to their utmost speed, with their clothes 
 streaming away behind them, resembling militia aids, 
 on a muster day, or a mob retreating from an army. 
 Here, too, is a place of display for generous and con- 
 10 
 
1 1 GEORGE MASON, 
 
 'siderate gallantry. The young gentlemen place gloves, 
 hats, and dresses, as stakes for the lady of their love, 
 to suspend upon the horse of their choice. Hercules 
 Pindall, before the assembled crowd, brought a bonnet, 
 pair of gloves, and a beautiful peach-blow Nankin crape 
 dress pattern, showing the articles to Eliza Mason, and 
 informing her that she was elected by him, as the lady 
 of his choice, to bet either upon ihe Green Mantle, or 
 the Cedar Snag, and requesting her to choose between 
 them. At the same time, he expressed a wish, that 
 she would fix upon Green Mantle, as, in his judgment, 
 the winning horse. The poor girl, no doubt, wished 
 the tall Creole in the Red Sea, and pretty decidedly 
 told him, that she chose to be excused from belling up 
 on either. But there was a look of such imploring 
 humility in the countenance of this haughty and power 
 ful young heir, accustomed to such uncontrolled au 
 thority, (some say there was even a tear in his eye,) that 
 it may be fairly presumed, other motives, than an unwil 
 lingness to disgrace him before so many people, and 
 displease her mother, whose eye bade her make a 
 choice and gain the beair.ifiil articles, decided her. 
 She told him that if custom required her to choose, 
 as every one about her told her it did, she should of 
 course choose the Green Mantle, for it seemed to her, 
 that it would, in fact, be the winning horse. What a 
 powerful tamer of wild animals is love ! This young 
 hero, as unmanageable by all beside, as a mule, and as 
 farouche, as the French say, as a dromedary, all at 
 once bowed his tail form, like a lily, cut by a scythe, 
 and went away as subdued, and as sentimental, as an 
 unfledged turtle, took his place on the turf, drew off his 
 hat, and waved it three times over his head, crying out, 
 " Green.Mantle for ever ! " in good set tones, that might 
 have been heard on a still morning three miles. 
 
 Beside the purse, and the great bets, there were 
 many by-bets, many beaver hats, many pairs of boots, 
 and many fancy articles for the fair, pretty equally sus- 
 
 
THE YOUNG BACKWOODSMAN. Ill 
 
 pended upon the two horses. After an hour's prelude, 
 in which these matters were settled, and a dozen chunk- 
 races run, and a goodly number of the spectators ren 
 dered as blind as Justice, by fist-fights, after the judges, 
 too, sitting in their inviolable conclave, had settled the 
 grave preliminaries of the weights, and every thing that 
 appertained to the riders, and what should constitute a 
 " balk," what " flying the truck," and what amount of 
 advance should be adjudged decisive of victory ; the 
 jockeys brought their horses, in their appropriate trap 
 pings, to the goal. The judges issued the cry, " Clear 
 the field ! " Away scamper chunks, donkeys, mules, 
 and negroes, and the audience is as still, as death. The 
 horses are brought with their breasts against a line. It 
 is astonishing, and to me it is absolutely painful, to see 
 to what an extent these noble animals catch the enthu 
 siasm and the excitement of the spectators. You may 
 see it in their eye, You may see it in t'heir bodies, 
 painfully stretched, and prepared for the leap. You 
 may see their trembling impatience in the spasmodic 
 movement of all their muscles. You may see it in the 
 swelling of their veins, and the expansion of their nos 
 trils. The two senior judges, one on each side of the 
 truck, withdrew the string, dropped a hat, and cried, 
 " Go ! " Away sprang the horses, and no one, who has 
 not seen a rare, can imagine the enthusiasm of the mo 
 ment. Mingled cries, shouts, and I wish I was not 
 obliged to add, oaths, in treble, tenor, and bass, in re 
 peated bursts of acclamation, rose to the sky. " God 
 bless the pretty soul of Green Mantle," shouted some 
 ladies. " God bless the noble heart of Cedar Snag," 
 shouted others, and in less time than it takes to trace 
 these lines, the horses had reached the extremity of 
 the ellipse, and were on the return. The cunning rider 
 of Green Mantle, immediately measuring the compara 
 tive speed of his horse, gently reined him in, and amidst 
 deafening cries of " Cedar Snag and Carolina against 
 all the world ! " that horse had gained of the other half 
 
GEORGE MASON, 
 
 a length. " Double the bet for Cedar Snag ! " was 
 the cry, and poor Eliza, whether for Hercules or the 
 peach -blow crape, or other cause, I say not ; but, clear 
 ly, she was sorry, to see Green Mantle dropping astern. 
 But, exactly at the right time, the jockey rider of this 
 horse gives him the rein, a cheer, and a gentle switch, 
 and the noble horse stretches himself almost to the 
 earth. In an instant he gains on Cedar Snag. The 
 spectators now comprehend the movement. The dumb 
 founded partisans of Green Mantle throw up their hats, 
 rend the air, and shout, " Huzza for Green Mantle and 
 Old Virginia ! " By this time the cheek of Eliza and 
 her mother is colored with eagerness. With the cries, 
 " Green Mantle ! Cedar Snag ! Virginia ! Carolina ! " 
 and the names of the betting ladies, and oaths, shouts, 
 and exclamations, until the parties are hoarse, Green 
 Mantle advances a full length before the other to 
 the goal. 
 
 After the shouting and enthusiasm of the partisans of 
 Green Mantle had been allowed time to subside, came 
 on the important business of settling the bets. The de 
 cision of the judges was clear, and irrevocable, and the 
 bets were- paid, in general, without a murmur, for it is 
 deemed mean and unworthy, to question the decision, 
 or to show any backwardness, either in paying, or ad 
 mitting the victory to be a fair one. Here, too, we see 
 the genuine obstinacy of American perseverance in 
 party feeling. The trials of speed had been as fair, as 
 could be imagined. Neither horse balked, or flew the 
 truck, and without some palpable mistake of the horse, 
 or the rider, this trial 'might be considered a fair and 
 unvarying criterion, of what would take place in a hun 
 dred subsequent similar trials. Not so thought or said 
 the partisans of Cedar Snag. Both parties baffled 
 learnedly about heels, wind, and bottom, and the losers 
 found out some mistake, either in the training, or rid 
 ing of their favorite horse, which, they were confident, 
 another trial would rectify, and thus produce a differ- 
 
THE YOUNG BACKWOODSMAN. 113 
 
 ent result. " Here," say they, " is my fist for double 
 the bet on another trial." Well said Hudibras, 
 
 " Convince a man against his will," &c. 
 
 When Hercules came forward with the beautiful 
 dress, to offer it to Eliza, it was done with so much 
 visible satisfaction in her success and pleasure in offer 
 ing it to her, tempered with so much humility and a 
 manner so different from bis usual proud and saucy 
 bearing, that I am not sure, had he been a little more 
 polished, and she a few years older, but some touch of 
 pity and tenderness would have mingled with her ac 
 ceptance. As it was, there was something so near like 
 relenting, in the eye and manner of Eliza, that the 
 young man went off as happy, as a prince, treasuring 
 the kind look in his memory, and growing as proud 
 upon it, as if he had vanquished her young heart as 
 completely, as he had the authority of his parents. 
 Poor young man ! Before the carriage set off with 
 Mrs. Mason for her cabin, he took occasion to renew 
 his suit, in such earnest and assured terms, that both 
 the mother and daughter were obliged once more to 
 cut off his hopes, and leave him as much in despon 
 dency and dudgeon as before. 
 
 I have said nothing of the extacy of the children in 
 the enjoyment of the race. It is of all others the show, 
 that seizes most strongly upon the affections of their 
 years. George, in truth, had been too deeply occu 
 pied with the examination of Hercules, and his bearing 
 towards his sister, on the occasion to enjoy it. But for 
 the rest, they chattered about the race all the way 
 home, and more than once sprang up from their mat- 
 trasses by night, shouting, " Green Mantle, for ever ! " 
 in their sleep. 
 
 But I find myself entering too minutely into the for 
 tunes of this family, and 1 must hasten to follow the 
 thread of events by a more general outline. For a 
 considerable time, too, there does not appear any strik 
 ing incident in their course. I may only say, that the 
 
114 
 
 web of their life, the while, was of mingled yarn, as 
 falls to the common lot of mortals. Their scheme of 
 silk-making had not been pursued to an extent, to yield 
 much beyond amusement ; though it was completely 
 successful, as far as it went. They labored incessantly 
 at their occupation of making hats and bonnets. But 
 it was not always, that George was so successful in his 
 sales, as he had been at first. Eliza had plied her 
 spinning-wheel, with cotton of their own raising. But 
 the evils of poverty continued to press upon them- The 
 love of Hercules seemed fast verging towards revenge. 
 When he had first thought of wooing a girl, who had 
 nothing but beauty, the parents had considered it, and he 
 had considered it, graciousness and condescension. 
 When it was perceived, that after the pursuit of a year, 
 in which she had become turned of fourteen, and as beau 
 tiful as May, after the mother and daughter had received 
 such magnificent presents, still no real progress was made 
 towards success, and that the mother and daughter still 
 shrunk from the alliance, the parents began to talk again 
 of the law-suit, and the writ of ejectment, Hercules had 
 ventured once to solicit the interference of George on 
 the s'ibject. But the tall and powerful young man abso 
 lutely quailed under the flashing of the eye of this poor 
 orphan lad, and he never cared to resume the subject 
 again. The people, generally, in the settlement, con 
 sidered this as another proof of the foolish and insolent 
 pride of the family, and passed many a bitter remark 
 upon this fancied union of poverty and ambition. These 
 circumstances operated, as a new and complete cause 
 of severance between them and their neighbours, and 
 days often passed without their speaking with a single 
 human being, except those of their own number. 
 
 Mrs. Mason and iier daughter, though they could be 
 fine, wanted the plain and common articles of comfort 
 able clothing. The boys were only dressed to the point 
 of the plainest decency, while a small payment of the 
 taxes and the doctor's bill was made, and a trifle reserv- 
 
THE YOUNG BACKWOODSMAN. 115 
 
 ed to aid in carrying on the law-suit with Mr. Pindall, 
 whenever he should commence it. No part of these 
 privations weighed so heavily on the spirits of George 
 and his mother, as the necessity of such unremitting 
 labor, imposed upon them all, as left them neither 
 time, nor opportunity for the instruction and education 
 of the younger children. The progress of George and 
 Eliza had been respectable, during the life of their 
 father, who had devoted his whole heart to this task, 
 and who had found in them uncommon docility. But 
 it went to the heart of Mrs. Mason, to see her younger 
 children growing up in the woods, as ignorant, and un 
 disciplined, " as the ivild ass's colt." Some more en 
 larged niid efficient plan had occurred to the scheming 
 mind of George a thousand limes, to remedy ihis'*and 
 various oilier evils of their condition. His rising 
 thoughts and -purposes spurned the idea of his vegetat 
 ing his whole life in the forest. Nor could he endure 
 the idea, that the beauty and sweetness of Eliza should 
 never he contemplated by any other, than such, as the 
 Pinclalls and Garvins. But to go abroad, for his plans 
 always terminated in the necessity of this, and to leave 
 his mother and the desolate and dear ones, to whom 
 his dying father had confided the charge, like lambs 
 in the wilderness; this, too, was an idea, from which 
 he recoiled. Yet he always said to himself, that it 
 was better to inflict on them and himself a lesser evil 
 for the sake of a greater good ; and that he ought to 
 give them and himself the pain of leaving them, for a 
 time, in order to fix ihem and himself in a position, 
 where they could remain permanently together. His 
 friend, the post-master of the village, had often con 
 versed with him on the subject. He was extensively 
 acquainted with the captains of the steam-boats, that 
 traded on the Ohio and the Upper Mississippi. He 
 recommended to George the place of clerk on one of 
 these, as one. for which lie thought him, as he said, 
 peculiarly qualified, by his being uncommonly ready at 
 
116 GEORGE MASON, 
 
 figures, and his writing a hand of remarkable beauty* 
 Whenever George named his scruples, he resolutely, 
 and successfully combatted them, proving to him, that 
 he was ruining his own prospects, as well as those of 
 his family, by remaining there in ignorance in the 
 woods, and in pursuits, which, however industriously 
 followed, would never procure an adequate maintenance 
 for the family. 
 
 The idea of leaving his mother, sister, and the 
 young children alone, and unprotected, was a gloomy 
 one to his affectionate heart. But in turning over the 
 subject, and taking a view of every side of it, it occur 
 red to him, that it was a part of the duty of mental 
 firmness, to take such measures, as were most for his 
 advantage and theirs, even did they involve the neces 
 sity and the pain of a separation. This deep attach 
 ment to home, identified with a sense of duty, and as 
 sociated with the feeling of homesickness, was the most 
 formidable determent from his project. Once or twice 
 in their evening conversations, lie had ventured to hint 
 the thought of the post-master in the family. It must 
 be allowed, that his mother had already revolved in her 
 own mind the possibility of such an event. She had 
 even allowed herself to contemplate the subject with so 
 much steadiness of vision, as to see, that it would be 
 for his interest, and of course her duty, to consent to it. 
 But whenever she viewed the prospect near at hand, 
 she instinctively shrunk from it, and closed her eyes 
 upon it, as children do upon the terrific notion of a 
 phantom in the dark. At first, when she discovered, 
 that he was actually thinking of leaving home, she 
 burst into tears, and affected to see in this purpose the 
 extinction of filial affection, and a hardness of heart, 
 which cared not for her and the other children, and a 
 selfishness, which regarded only his own ease and com 
 fort, and his own vagabond projects of wandering 
 abroad. George prudently waited until the storm of 
 wounded affection had passed away, and meekly ex- 
 
THE YOUNG BACKWOODSMAN. 
 
 pressing a hope, that she would review the case, and 
 think more favorably of it another time, he withdrew. 
 
 The next time the conversation turned upon the same 
 subject, she viewed it more calmly, and rather in sor 
 row than in anger. For in truth, she had reviewed the 
 subject, when alone, and her conscience had reproach 
 ed her, for this indulgence of anger and invective, in 
 regard to her son. She had deeply and religiously 
 meditated her duties, had considered, that, however her 
 own selfish affections might wish to detain him, she 
 must be convinced, that he could do much more for 
 the family in such pursuits as were proposed to him, 
 than he could at home, that it would enable him to see 
 the world, and form his character, and that she ought 
 to struggle to triumph over the selfish considerations, 
 that operate with so many mothers to the ruin of their 
 children. In the second conversation which they held 
 upon the subject, she consented to his project, and only 
 requested time to prepare her mind for the separation. 
 
 Not many days after r George received a letter from 
 the post-master, informing him, that a most fovorable 
 opportunity offered, for his obtaining u clerkship on 
 board of one of the capital steam-boats. The terms 
 were thirty dollars a month. This excellent man offer 
 ed him, in consideration of the wants of the family, and 
 the diminution of its means, in his leaving it, to advance 
 twenty dollars, on the prospect of his wages, to expend 
 in articles for its comfort. When he read the letter to 
 his mother, it was, after all her good resolutions, as if 
 an ice-bolt had gone to her heart. But she remember 
 ed her duly. She begged him and the children to re 
 tire. It was breaking open the unhealed wound, occa 
 sioned by her husband's death, and she wept, as a trib 
 ute to feeble human nature. She then prayed, and 
 wrestled hard with God for resignation. This is the 
 way to settle high and good purposes. "When George 
 and the children returned, she was calm, and the mat 
 ter was at rest in her mind. She told him, that she not 
 
118 
 
 riEORGE MASON, 
 
 only consented to his going, but considered it the best 
 thing he could do. 
 
 The heart of George was relieved. It seemed to 
 him impossible, that he could ever have forsaken the 
 cabin, unless she had so expressed herself. He hur 
 ried to the river, saw, and thanked his friend, and was 
 by him conducted on board the steam-boat, which was 
 about to ascend the Ohio, and would return in a few 
 days. The captain was pleased with him, and he was 
 reciprocally pleased with the captain and his prospects ; 
 and the bargain was settled, and he was to be on the 
 bank, when the boat returned, to take his place on board 
 of her. We are swayed to our best actions in many 
 instances by some little obliquity of motive. It must 
 be allowed, that when George saw the noble steam 
 boat sweep away up the stream, she carried a portion 
 of his heart off with her. It must be admitied, that a 
 spice of roving disposition, inherited from his father, 
 had its share in overcoming his reluctance to leave his 
 mother and his home. 
 
 It is not material to relate all the conversations, 
 which ensued, between this engagement and the time 
 of his departure, between him and the different mem 
 bers of the family. He was the only one of their num 
 ber, that had yet developed strength of character, and 
 the mother and the children leaned upon him not only 
 for support, but to resolve their doubts, and settle their 
 purposes, and decide their plans, and sustain their 
 mental indecision. Meanwhile, Mrs. Mason had faith 
 fully inve-stigoted, by all the means in her power, the 
 dangers of the river, and had heard of every accident, 
 in all its exaggerations, that had ever happened to a 
 steam-boat on the Mississippi, or Ohio. She learned 
 all, that she could gather about storms, and snags, and 
 more than all, the dreadful death of scalding by the 
 bursting of the boiler. 
 
 Neither was George idle on his part. He had ex 
 pended the advanced twenty dollars for the comfort of 
 
THE YOUNG BACKWOODSMAN. 1 1 9 
 
 the family, during his absence. Henry had come suf 
 ficiently of age, to take his place in the charge of the 
 field, and Uie stewardship of their little concern of silk, and 
 bonnet manufacture, and their other humble affairs. 
 Many and solemn charges did he give him. The main 
 points were reduced to writing, that they might not be 
 forgotten, when he was gone. It was an affecting 
 charge on both hands, and when Henry received this 
 solemn responsibility, he gave a promise, as solemn, 
 that he would strive faithfully to discharge its duties. 
 
 It is painful to me to remember the distress of the 
 family, when the day of separation actually came. 
 But, like every event borne on the wings of time, it did 
 come. They recited their prayers for the last time'to- 
 gether. They mingled their voices for the last time in 
 the song of evening praise. The last evening of tender 
 and solemn conversations passed away. The last 
 promises of affection, remembrance, and prayer for 
 each other were made. They parted over -night, and 
 according to arrangement, long before the sun rose, he 
 was gone. In the morning his place at table was emp 
 ty ; and the mother, and the forlorn young ones walked 
 about, dreaming, and silent, and in stupefaction, not un 
 like that, which followed the death of Mr. Mason. 
 
 George was turned of eighteen, when he was thus 
 thrown upon the world. He was dressed in the most 
 plain and quaker-like style. A small handkerchief- 
 bundle contained his clothes and a bible. Beneath his 
 humble dress beat a heart, at once stout, and affection 
 ate ; and these constituted all his baggage. As I have 
 remarked, he stole away before the family had risen in 
 the morning, to avoid the agony of those partings, which 
 make such a distressing part of such a separation. The 
 deepest emotions, that are excited on such occasions, 
 are not those, that show themselves in words or tears. 
 When he had taken the last look of mother, sister, and 
 brothers, and the humble cabin, which together made 
 that dear and sacred word home, a word which 
 
1 20 GEORGE MASON, 
 
 means more to a good mind and heart, than almost any 
 other! in our language, he turned round, before he 
 crossed the stile that led out of the field, and gave the 
 dear spot the benediction, that rose to the Almighty 
 from a pious child, an affectionate brother, and an un 
 polluted nature. "God keep you," said he, u and 
 watch over your innocent slumbers. For me, though 
 now a wanderer in the wild world, I will think of you, 
 and the thought shall be as a talisman, to shield me 
 against tempation. I will think of the pale face of my 
 mother. I will think of the last look of my father. I 
 will think of my sweet sister, and the dear young ones." 
 I consider such reflections, as the best possible security 
 against temptation to degradation and vice, that a young 
 man can possess. Such thoughts must be expunged 
 from the mind, before he can be led widely astray. 
 
 
THE YOUNG BACKWOODSMAN. 121 
 
 CHAPTER VII. 
 
 Mark now, emerging from yon verdant point, 
 The steam-boat gay, tracing her path in foam, 
 Emitting high above the trees her smoke. 
 
 He arrived at the landing, met the steam-boat, closed 
 the contract with the captain, and found the tender 
 thoughts of home and parting partially erased by occu 
 pations, as different from his former pursuits, as can be 
 imagined. Instead of the silence and seclusion of a 
 small clearing in the forest, instead of the loved and 
 infantine voices of his brothers, and the silver tones of 
 his mother and sister, he is in the midst of a confusion 
 of sounds, which could scarcely be paralleled in Babel. 
 Above, below, around is the incessant babble of human 
 voices. Oaths, catches of songs, reckless laughter, the 
 prattle of a score of ladies, incessant beating upon a 
 piano, the roaring of the furnace, the sharp and horrid 
 hissing of the steam, the eternal pounding of the ma 
 chinery, the unceasing dashing of the wheels in the wa 
 ter, the bustle of the fire-men, the boat-men, and the 
 deck passengers all this, rendered more impressive by 
 immediate contrast with the silence of the woods, is 
 now continually in his ears and before his eyes. Long 
 habit has rendered these sounds familiar to me, and his 
 ear too became, after a while, accustomed to them. 
 But he never paused to think of such an immense ma 
 chine, borne so majestically down the Mississippi forests, 
 but what this impressive manifestation of the triumph 
 of art over nature, struck him with a feeling of sublimi 
 ty and profound respect for the powers of the human 
 mind. 
 
 But he was the same person in- the silence of his 
 
 woods, and in the midst of this new and most singular 
 
 form of society. In this place the repulsiveness of vice 
 
 kept him as firmly in the habits of virtue, as the absence 
 
 11 
 
1 22 GEORGE MASON, 
 
 of temptation, reflection, and right views of things had 
 at home. He was never out of temper, but always 
 calm and collected. With all the wayward spirits, 
 with which he had to deal, he still possessed the in 
 calculable advantage of retaining entire possession of 
 himself. The consequence was such, as self-control, 
 good judgment, right principles, and correct deportment 
 seldom fail to produce. He grew rapidly in the es 
 teem of the captain and crew, and almost invariably 
 secured the good will of the passengers. Among the 
 most dissipated people, and in the midst of lax and 
 even corrupt societies, sobriety, good morals, good fee 
 lings, and good principles are invariably respected. 
 Young men are apt to make ruinous mistakes upon this 
 subject and to think that the abandoned best love those, 
 who are most like themselves. Virtue levies every where 
 her proper dues of homage from vice. 
 
 The accounts of the boat were kept in the most per 
 fect order. The most contentious, dishonest, and even 
 intemperate found his book so clear, his representations 
 so unanswerable, his feelings so under command, and 
 his firmness and moderation so unalterable, that no such 
 difficulties, as disputes, occurred. By a kind of intuition 
 he comprehended the sharpers, vagabonds, and gamblers, 
 that, under the appearance of gentlemen, are occasion 
 ally seen in such places. He always had these people 
 manageable, and at arms length. They were scarcely 
 allowed a chance to go in debt beyond their means of 
 paying, or impose upon the unsuspecting passengers, 
 without a warning from him, sufficient to enlighten them 
 without in any way committing himself. This calm 
 ness of manner, this discriminating judgment, exer 
 cised with suavity and good feeling, soon obtained for 
 him the same influence among the rough people on deck, 
 as he possessed in the cabin. Of course, when the pas 
 sengers were discharged at New-Orleans, the number 
 of his friends might almost be said to equal that of the 
 passengers. 
 
THE YOUNG BACKWOODSMAN. 123 
 
 Many of the circumstances of these new and strange 
 modes of life were positively painful, and that in no 
 small degree. There were others, that so long as they 
 retained the charm of novelty, were delightful. He 
 never wearied in contemplating the noble river. When 
 he sat on deck in his night-watch, and every thing on 
 board the boat, that had life was still, but the fire-men 
 it was a spectacle, that filled his whole mind, to see the 
 great and powerful vehicle, by the light of the moon, 
 borne down with such rapidity and force, between the 
 dim and misty outlines of the forest, on either hand. 
 By day the verdant banks, the ever varying scenery, 
 the ambrosial fragrance of the willow-skirted shores, 
 the cries of the water-fowls, wheeling their courses 
 over-head, were circumstances of delightful contem 
 plation to a musing mind, like his. The variety of 
 characters on board, the different opinions, tempers, and 
 passions, developed by the incidents and conversations 
 on the trip, were a constant study to him. Books, too, 
 were accessible. The boat itself carried a considerable 
 library. Most of the passengers had a select assortment 
 of books, and I hardly need add of such a character, 
 that every moment of his time, that was not necessarily 
 devoted to the duties of his employment, and the occa 
 sions of food and sleep, was occupied either with read 
 ing, or the intense study of the ever open book of hu 
 man life before him. 
 
 The crowded and bustling city of New-Orleans pre 
 sented a new page of the great volume of human 
 nature. He saw himself amidst a moving mass of life, 
 of people of all nations, languages, and manners. When 
 borne along with the tide, and seeing among the hun 
 dreds, that surrounded him, not an individual who knew 
 him, or cared for him, or was connected with him in any 
 other way, than as being a common heir of mortality, 
 then it was, that a sense of loneliness and home-sickness 
 pressed upon him. Then it was, that the comparison 
 of this world of strangers, that seemed in his eye al- 
 
124 GEORGE MASON, 
 
 most like foes, forced upon him a contrast of it with 
 that dear little world, which was engraven, like the lines 
 of a map, upon his heart the little square enclosure 
 cut out of the forest the lonely ones dragging them 
 selves with painful remembrances to their task, and 
 thinking affectionately of him. Then it was, that his 
 heart cried out in the earnest petition of the Scriptures, 
 " Oh ! that 1 had the wings of a dove, that I might fly 
 away" and he with them. 
 
 In the steam-boat, amidst the passengers playing their 
 cards, and resorting to all the customary expedients to 
 kill time, or in the city, when the crowd was rushing to 
 the theatre on the Sabbath evening, he remained still 
 the same. He uniformly spent his Sabbaths as nearly 
 according to his former habits, as his present pursuits 
 would admit. He had his bible. Still more ; he had 
 his assigned hour and the privacy of his birth, where, 
 on his knees before God/ all the restrained feelings of 
 his affectionate and filial heart were poured forth to the 
 Almighty. Then before him he called up to remem 
 brance his mother's necessities, and the determination, 
 that no guilty fear of the charge of meanness should 
 tempt him to squander any part of his wages. Here 
 he determined, that profusion and extravagance should 
 seduce him in vain from his purpose to carry home to 
 her all that he could save from expenditures that were 
 indispensable. 
 
 He had another object in view from the first. His cher 
 ished purpose was to become a captain of a steam-boat. 
 His intention was to quality himself thoroughly for that 
 post. With this view he spent much of his time on 
 deck, gleaning information concerning the river from 
 experienced boatmen. He studied the currents, the 
 boils, and eddies, the marks of shallow and deep water, 
 the indications for steering in the night, and all the hun 
 dred complicated physical aspects of this sweeping and 
 dangerous stream. The captain and pilot were pleased 
 to impart to him all necessary instruction, touching the 
 
THE YOUNG BACKWOODSMAN. 
 
 125 
 
 art and mystery of steersmanship and the management 
 of the boat. He made the powers and capabilities of 
 the engine a thorough study. His eye saw all, and he 
 ceasecl not until he comprehended all, that could be 
 learned on board of the boat. So well had he profited by 
 these lessons, that on his return trip, he found himself 
 invited to take his watch at steering along with the pilot. 
 He managed his watch in such a way, as to show how 
 rapidly he had profited by his lessons. Time with him, 
 as it ought to be with every intelligent and virtuous 
 young man, was seen in its true value. He perceived, 
 that it was all the estate to which he was born, and he 
 determined, that not a fragment of this precious patri~ 
 mony should be lost. When not occupied with one 
 kind of duties, he immediately sped to another. He 
 was reading, writing, gathering information about the 
 country, or in some way engaged in steady reference 
 to his future views in life. He was absent on this trip 
 two months. Good sons, in whose bosoms the heart 
 throbs naturally under the left breast, can tell how he 
 felt, as the boat was at last rounding to the Iron Banks. 
 The passengers, observing the changes from crimson to 
 paleness in his cheek, jested with him about some sweet 
 heart there. But George's was a still profounder and 
 holier feeling, too deep even to endure a jest. The 
 boat would lie by for repairs one day. The only requi 
 site, which he sought in the horse that was to carry him 
 out to the settlement, was fleetness. For once he was 
 a hard rider, and drove his horse to the top of his speed. 
 I can see the tears of tenderness rush to his eye; I 
 can see the heaving of his bosom, as he came in view 
 of the clearing. He sprang over the stile, and in the 
 next moment he was in the arms of his mother. My 
 dear young reader, such a meeting is worth more, than 
 all the pleasures of dissipation and vice for an eternity. 
 Besides God, religion, and the hope of indulging friend 
 ship and these delightful feelings in eternity, there is noth 
 ing worth living for on the earth, but the love springing 
 
126 
 
 from such relations. All on this earth is a dream but 
 virtuous affection and the charities of home. Riches, 
 power, distinction, are all cold externals. This thing is 
 home-felt. It reaches the heart. How proud and how hap 
 py felt Mrs. Mason to fold this dear son to her maternal 
 bosom ! How innocent were the caresses of the charm 
 ing Eliza ! How boisterous the joy of the young chil 
 dren ! How proud was Henry to give an account of 
 his stewardship. It was a full hour, before the books, 
 toys, and dresses, the fruit and rarities, brought from 
 the far city were even contemplated. The pure in 
 heart only know the pleasures of real and deep enjoy 
 ment ; and such high satisfactions as these, are only to 
 be bought by absence and privation. It was long before 
 the mother and sister remarked how much he had im 
 proved in appearance, now, that he was plainly, but re 
 spectably dressed. Besides smaller articles, he had 
 brought some books, a box of paints, and drawing paper, 
 a present for his sister from a friend, whom he had ac 
 quired on his passage, and to his mother forty dollars. 
 To follow his fortunes through the three succeeding 
 years would be little more, than a repetition of similar 
 incidents with those I have just related. All the while 
 he continued in the same employment, running between 
 L. and New Orleans eight months in the year ; and 
 between that place and P. on the Ohio, during the 
 sultry months. A character, genuinely good, needs no 
 artificial blazoning. George was already a great man 
 in the estimation of the settlement. All accounts of 
 him tended to one point. All agreed, that he was an 
 excellent young man. The planters agreed, that he 
 had the " gab," like a lawyer, and Hercules Pindall 
 quailed in view of his manly form and flashing eye. 
 The threat of ejectment was hushed, and his pursuit of 
 Eliza was distant and respectful. The family exer 
 cised the most rigid and careful economy ; but by the 
 aid of their ground, and the assistance derived from the 
 wages of George, and the proceeds of the industry of 
 
THE YOUNG BACKWOODSMAN. 127 
 
 the children, of which he had every chance to dispose 
 in New Orleans, they were not only comfortable, but 
 were laying by a little fund. Eliza was appointed 
 school-mistress, and applied herself with assiduous in 
 dustry to the instruction of the children, and many of 
 the silent hours of the night she spent in reading, and 
 in close application to her studies to inform herself. 
 The people of the settlement in general looked to them 
 as people, the aspect of whose fortune was brightening. 
 Almost every return trip of the boat allowed George 
 some little time to spend with them. For fear he would 
 not be allowed sufficient time to go out to the cabin, 
 they always made it a point to be on the bank, at ,the 
 time when his boat was expected. There are many 
 mothers, who can imagine the impatience, with which 
 they used to gaze on the point below, round which his 
 boat first hove in sight. There are many who can 
 imagine the meeting which took place between the par 
 ties when he did actually arrive. There are many 
 who can imagine the pangs of separation, when these 
 short meetings terminated. 1 need only add, that, to 
 soften them as much as possible, he kept a detailed 
 journal of all that he saw, enjoyed, suffered, and felt 
 a history of events, thoughts, and actions. The moth 
 er, between every passage, had conned this journal 
 a dozen times. Each of the children was familiar with 
 all the words and phrases in it ; and in their own es 
 says at letter writing all the thoughts of brother George 
 became matters of classical quoting and illustration. 
 Even Hercules Pindall and Jethro Garvin, now, that 
 they had become somewhat tamed and modest in their 
 deportment, were occasionally admitted. Even they 
 had heard George's journal. The crafty young men 
 pretended to admire the style and the manner of it pro 
 digiously. In this way, through the honest pride and 
 affection of the mother, they more than once brought 
 about their real object, which was to read a few mo 
 ments in the eye of Eliza, instead of hearing the jour 
 nal of her brother. 
 
128 GEORGE MASON, 
 
 With respect to my hero, I need only remark, that 
 his progress in gaining the confidence of his captain, 
 and the general regard of all, with whom he became 
 associated, was steady and unvarying. After the first 
 trip, his wages, in consequence of ,his uniting the duties 
 of clerk and pilot, were increased to forty-five dollars a 
 month. While at New Orleans in 1822, he received 
 by mail the offer of the command of a beautiful new 
 steam-boat, which had just arrived at L. with an ample 
 salary and perquisites. It was the point to which he 
 had been constantly reaching, and was of course not 
 to be refused. He would have found it difficult, to 
 obtain a release from his present captain, had it not 
 been, that his boat was condemned, as no longer sea 
 worthy. When he had settled with George, he gave 
 him demonstrations of affectionate friendship at parting, 
 equally honorable to both. 
 
 The ill-fated steam-boat Tennessee was just starting 
 at this juncture for the Ohio, and with the multitude of 
 passengers in that boat, he took his passage. I was at 
 New-Orleans, and on the levee, when she swept round 
 for display in the river, fired her gun, and with her deck 
 and cabin crowded with passengers, moved off amidst 
 the shouts, acclamations, and boisterous gaiety of those 
 on board, answered by waving of hats, handkerchiefs, 
 and all the usual demonstrations on. the shore. Never 
 was a more beautiful winter morning seen in that cli 
 mate, so fruitful in beautiful winter mornings. Little 
 could any one have foreseen, or conjectured the terrible 
 catastrophe, that was but a few days behind such de 
 monstrations and such a jubilee of joy. Every one in 
 that region has heard, that in a dark, stormy, and sleety 
 night, in one of the most furious cypress bends above 
 Natchez, she struck a snag, and burst in her bow. 
 Among the numerous passengers were many women 
 and children. What a scene of horror to these unfor 
 tunate beings ! The midnight cry reached them, while 
 asleep in their births. The water poured in upon them 
 
THE YOUNG BACKWOODSMAN. 129 
 
 and all was wailing, confusion, and despair. Some ex 
 hibited, in this terrible emergency, that presence of 
 mind, and that noble forgetfulness of self, that belong to 
 superior natures. Others manifested the extremes of 
 cowardice and selfishness united. On such occasions 
 it is, that we see the dignity and the degradation of hu 
 man nature brought together, and grouped in the strong 
 est contrast. Every one has heard, that that there was 
 one person paddling about the sinking boat in a skiff,- in 
 which he might easily have saved a dozen persons 
 keeping at a distance, however, to allow no one to get 
 on board. He was calling, the while, most earnestly 
 upon some of the drowning passengers, to throw into 
 his skiff his saddlebags, in which was a paltry sum of 
 dollars ! 
 
 Amidst the screaming, agony, and distraction of the 
 scene, George remained calm and self-possessed. To 
 some he imparted counsel respecting the best mode of 
 getting on shore without a boat, on a timber or a plank. 
 In many cases he saved the parties by repressing reso 
 lutions resulting from the counsels of distraction. When 
 his presence was no longer useful on board the sinking 
 boat, he swam on shore behind a periogue, which was 
 so overloaded as to upset. It had already arrived near 
 the shore, and he saved a mother and her child from 
 those that were on board. When the boat first came 
 to the shore, he assisted to pass her cable round a tree. 
 Had his directions been followed, the boat had been 
 saved. But other counsels prevailed, and it was de 
 termined to loose the cable from the first tree, to get a 
 fast round one that was deemed more favorable for 
 bringing the boat to shore. The cable once loosed 
 from the first tree, the boat whirled off into the stream 
 with such power, that they were unable to make fast 
 to another. Her fate was soon consummated. The 
 engineer conducted like a patriot, or a martyr. Uni 
 versally beloved on board, there were friends, who, in 
 escaping themselves, thought of him, and besought him 
 
130 GEORGE MASON, 
 
 to save himself in the periogue, which saved so many of 
 the passengers. His answer was noble. " There is no 
 chance for her if I quit the engine," and he kept the 
 wheels in motion, until they were choked with water, 
 and was drowned in the engine-room, struggling to the 
 last moment to perform his duty. The dwellers on the 
 Mississippi ought to raise a statue to his memory. 
 
 When all, that remained on board, in the darkness and 
 in the storm, .and in the whirling wrath of that mighty and 
 sweeping river, were plunged into its waves, it needs lit 
 tle effort of imagination, to conceive what a scene it must 
 have been. The mother was whirled under the current, 
 among the sawyers, with her babe clinging to her neck ; 
 and between thirty and forty perished. How many our 
 hero saved, we cannot tell. There were other generous 
 spirits, beside him, exerting themselves to the utmost to 
 save all in their power. He was sometimes swimming be 
 hind a canoe full of people, and paddling it to the shore. 
 Relinquishing the canoe to some person who could not 
 swim, he was next seen dragging some rescued victim 
 ashore by his hair. One poor wretch, who had floated 
 a considerable distance down stream, had caught upon 
 a sawyer, and amidst the general uproar, had been cry 
 ing for help a long time in vain. George heard him, 
 and carried a canoe to his relief, and brought him safe 
 ly ashore, after he was so far exhausted by his ex 
 ertions and sufferings, as to be unable to speak, when 
 brought to the land. It cannot be doubted, but he suf 
 fered much himself from cold, exposure, fatigue, and 
 exertion in swimming against the current. But he enjoy 
 ed the most exquisite satisfaction, that a good mind can 
 experience on the earth, meriting the gratitude, and re 
 ceiving the blessings of many, saved by his exertions, 
 when they were ready to perish. 
 
 Having done every thing, that benevolence and hu 
 manity could dictate for the people that had been saved 
 from the foundered boat, and having bestowed his tribute 
 of unavailing sorrow upon the many that perished, not- 
 
THE YOUNG BACKWOODSMAN. 131 
 
 withstanding all exertions, he set off on his way back to 
 Natchez. Thence he took passage on the first boat to L. 
 The pilot engaged for that boat was found, on trial, to be 
 inadequate to the duties, which he had assumed. George 
 was engaged in his place, which once more put him on 
 pay. This was a circumstance, which remembrance of 
 his mother's condition forbade him ever to forget. 
 This boat could not stop at the Iron Banks. From a 
 certain point, indeed, where they took in wood, he had 
 a chance to send a billet to his mother, informing her 
 of his fortunes, and that he should be back in a fort 
 night from that day, requesting her at that time to be at 
 the Iron Banks with the children. 
 
 I hope there are many of my youthful readers who 
 can enter into the feelings of this good young man, as 
 the boat thundered by the Iron Banks, without stopping, 
 and how he strained his eyes to discern the path over 
 the hill, that led out to the settlement, and with what 
 gloomy and disappointed feelings he saw that, and the 
 bluff, and the forests, and all the landmarks, so dear to 
 memory, disappear in the distance. 
 
 He had a short and pleasant trip to L. and a safe 
 return in his own large, new, and handsome boat. 
 Madam Mason and the family were on the banks of the 
 river, some hours before the lime advertised for his 
 return. The mother and the four children were seated 
 under a spreading oak a little below the summit, on the 
 eastern declivity of the Iron Banks, eagerly looking up 
 the bend, affording a reach of vision of about five miles, 
 to a point where the further view of the river was ob 
 structed by the woods of the opposite shore. Every 
 one has perceived, that in a slate of extreme impatience 
 a minute lengthens to an hour. The children com 
 plained of delay. Even the equanimity of the mother 
 was vanquished, and she fidgeted, and wondered what 
 detained the boat. Half a dozen times the children 
 had imagined the column of smoke above the trees, 
 and had cried, clapping their hands, " There she 
 
132 GEORGE MASON, 
 
 comes ! " By and by, there is no mistake, and a col 
 umn of smoke is really seen ; and the children begin to 
 caper for joy. In a few moments afterwards the white 
 bow is just seen shooting from behind the trees. In a 
 minute afterwards a noble steam-boat ' stands confess 
 ed,' with her colors and pennons flying, and an immense 
 cylindrical column of pitchy smoke streaming away be 
 hind, and bearing down upon them, under a movement 
 of twelve miles an hour. The mother's heart still flut 
 ters in suspense, for it may not be her son's boat. In 
 another instant, that doubt is dispelled. A burst of white 
 smoke shoots from the bow, and the children admire at 
 the length of time, before her cannon is heard. Then 
 they are sure it is the boat, they expect. By this 
 time, there are a hundred people on the bank, watch 
 ing the approach of the new steam-boat. I could almost 
 envy the allowable pride and enthusiasm of the mother 
 and the son, as the noble boat rounded to the shore, and 
 as the latter descried her and the children under the 
 tree, and as they distinguished him standing on the bow- 
 deck. In another moment the son was ashore, and 
 folded in his mother's arms. Every one of the family 
 was plainly, but respectably dressed. The hundred 
 spectators, who, in such cases, are uniformly seen loung 
 ing on the shore, to witness the landing of a steam 
 boat, shrunk back from the affecting spectacle and the 
 tender greetings of this interesting group. Hercules 
 Pindall and Jethro Garvin, and two or three other 
 young Creoles, eyed the scene at a distance, and 
 askance, with mingled feelings of love, hate, and envy, 
 exhibiting faces, not unlike those usually assigned by 
 painters to Judas Iscariot. 
 
 The interest of this spectacle was strong evidence, 
 that the amount of deference, respect, and homage in 
 common minds is chiefly regulated by external appear 
 ance. The family was now considered a rising one, 
 and made as much show, as the wealthiest among them. 
 Three years before, in the same place, the same family 
 
THE YOUNG BACKWOODSMAN. 1 33 
 
 would have appeared either objects of indifference or 
 derision. To the dwellers on the shores of the Missis 
 sippi and the Ohio, there are but few personages, en 
 titled to higher and more heart-felt homage than the 
 captains of steam-boats. The coming of a steam-boat 
 breaks the silence of the forest. Jt brings the popula 
 tion and the fashions and the news and the show of a 
 city among them. It purchases their wood, milk, meats, 
 eggs, and vegetables, and it sells them groceries, finery, 
 and whiskey. For a half hour ihey exult in the bustle 
 and traffic and news of a city. It is intensely enjoyed for 
 the time, for they are aware, that the pleasure is tran 
 sitory. The cannon is fired.- The boat is under way, 
 and in ten minutes nothing interrupts the silence of the 
 forest again, but the screaming of the jays. 
 
 In the short interview, which George had with his 
 mother, entirely new arrangements were made for the 
 future. He had taken a handsome house l in a large 
 and thriving village near L. which had the advantage of 
 schools, of a higher class, and respectable society, and 
 here he proposed to place his mother, and to take the 
 family up to their residence on his return from New- 
 Orleans. She was to sell the establishment there for 
 whatever it would bring, and to be on the bank, ready 
 to embark, when the boat should return. It need not 
 be doubled, that all this arrangement was entirely satis 
 factory to her, on its own merits, even had it not been 
 made by one, who, in her eye, was little apt to make 
 wrong decisions. 
 
 Mr. Pindall purchased the claim to the cabin and 
 clearing, giving something more than half its fair value. 
 Hercules had his last interview with Eliza. The avow 
 al of his continued and ill requited devotion was rather 
 noted for its strength, than its delicacy. Having pe 
 rused it in black and white, I find, however, that ir was 
 substantially the same sort of harangue, that has been 
 said and sung in all languages, in all ages, and by all 
 people. His movements wanted something of grace, 
 12 
 
134 GEORGE MASON, 
 
 and his genuflections were not managed upon system, 
 it is true. But what the affair wanted in polish, it 
 gained in energy. His tears soiled no handkerchief, 
 and he told her, that she might go farther, and fare 
 worse, In conclusion he assured her, he hoped, she 
 would not forget him altogether; and for himself, he 
 promised to forget her, as soon, as he could. " For," 
 said he, " I would have had you if I could. But, by 
 gqish, I will now marry Dehby Sweetser, offhand." 
 
 The voyage to New-Orleans was marked by no ac 
 cident, and the boat hove in sight of the Iron Banks 
 within two hours, after the assigned time for her return. 
 The family had made every preparation for removal, 
 and were on the bank, awaiting the return of the boat. 
 A great many respectable passengers came up in her. 
 The family meeting took place a little removed from 
 the public gaze, and when the first transports were over, 
 George led his mother and sister, followed by three fine, 
 brown, healthy-looking Creole boys, into the cabin. 
 Mrs. Mason was richly dressed in black, and though 
 pale and care-worn had a face and figure, in which 
 dignity and interest were united in an uncommon de 
 gree. The younger children were clad in new suits of 
 blue, and looked a little shy and awkward at first, es 
 pecially when they caught the first glimpse of the 
 splendid cabin. It was seventy feet in length, support 
 ed by pilasters, and ornamented with mirors. At one 
 end was a considerable library in an open alcove, and 
 at the other a circular arcade, beyond which was the 
 bar, making a great display of liquors, refreshments of 
 all kinds, and fruits, among which were oranges, pine 
 apples, and bananas. The finishings were fine to gau- 
 diness, and the floor was carpeted with Venetian car 
 peting. The curtains in front of the births were of 
 yellow silk, drawn up with tassels and festoons. Fold 
 ing doors led to the ladies' cabin, in which some one 
 was playing the piano. The furnishings and the doors 
 were of mahogany. Such were the splendor and luxu- 
 
THE YOUNG BACKWOODSMAN. 135 
 
 ry, that had already made their way into the Mississippi 
 forests. 
 
 Eliza Mason, now fully formed and turned of 
 eighteen, was exquisitely beautiful. Her complexion 
 had received a slight tinge of olive from the climate. 
 Seclusion, solitude, and the deeply remembered loss 
 of her father had imparted to her countenance a 
 look of pensive meditation, which threw an inexpressi 
 ble charm over it. She had hitherto been as rustic in 
 her dress, as a shepherdess. On the present occasion 
 her mother had taken great pains to have her plainly, 
 but fashionably dressed. Hercules sighed and Jethro 
 sighed most pastorally, and the young planters gazed 
 upon her, as she went on board the boat, as on a pass 
 ing vision. 
 
 It maybe imagined, that the young children had all 
 their eyes in operation, when just coming from their 
 humble cabin to a scene of so much gaud.iness of dis 
 play. The flame-colored curtaining, the 1 splendid fur 
 niture, all the gay accompaniments, the handsomely 
 dressed ladies and gentlemen, opened upon them at 
 once. As they approached a large mirror, they were 
 ready to retreat in dismay from the sight of three hand 
 some, stiff boys in blue, apparently just like themselves, 
 and who advanced upon them, as ihey advanced. 
 Their sister perceived them just ready to cry out in 
 amazement, and held up her finger, which was a pre 
 concerted signal, when they were to be silent. Their 
 hearts palpitated a little, at first, in view of the black 
 machinery, pounding its cranks and whirling its wheels, 
 with such prodigious force. The sooty faces of the 
 savage-looking and bearded firemen, the glowiflg of the 
 furnace fires, the hissing of the steam, the croaking of 
 the escape steam, the trembling and recoil of the boat 
 under so much power, and the dashing of the water 
 from the buckets, are all, naturally, circumstances of 
 astonishment and terror to children, until they are used 
 to them. But they had come on board with a feeling, 
 
136 GEORGE MASON, 
 
 that all this tremendous power was under the beneficent 
 control of brother George, and this association soon 
 rendeied this otherwise formidable spectacle, this clat 
 ter and power, an object of pride rather than terror. 
 
 The captain led his moiher, and the children into 
 the ladies' cabin. Eliza walked through the long cabin 
 full of gentlemen, as timid as a fawn, and as beautiful 
 as the red-bird of her own woods. She had as yet 
 seen nothing to love, but her mother and brothers, and 
 imagined, that there was not another fine young man in 
 the world, but brother George. As she passed, she 
 could not but be sensible of that almost inaudible, yet 
 clear and sensibly felt expression of admiration, which 
 accompanied her to the cabin door, and it brought the 
 crimson of confusion into her cheek. We may remark, 
 in passing, that one of the passengers, his name was 
 Leonard, was an uncommonly fine young man, whose 
 expressive countenance was rendered more interesting 
 by a flush of hectic floridness in his cheek, and a touch 
 of debility in his eye, who was returning from a win 
 ter's excursion to Havanna, where he had been for his 
 health, to his home in the state of Maine. It is said, 
 that love, and poetry, and madness, and various other 
 endowments, and inflictions, walk in darkness, like pes 
 tilence, and come, no one can tell how nor whence. 
 Certain it is, that Mr. Leonard was returning to the 
 North comparatively cured of the hectic weakness at 
 bis breast, only to suffer from a passing glance of this 
 rural damsel, as she went by to her cabin, an infliction 
 upon the heart, as deep, if not as difficult to cure, as 
 that in the breast, from which he had just escaped. 
 
 Mrs. Mason had never been in a steam-boat before. 
 She felt the common feminine terrors in the case. But 
 she soon began to feel assured, by perceiving how man 
 ageable, as well as swift, was this mighty movement 
 against the current of the Mississippi. A certain confi 
 dence and pride, dear to t'.ie maternal heart, began to be 
 felt in the reflection, that her good son, hardly yet ar- 
 
THE YOUNG BACKWOODSMAN. 137 
 
 rived at majority, bad the command of this powerful 
 machinery, that pushed on this floating city. Defer 
 ence and attention are naturally grateful to all, who 
 have heen once accustomed to them. They are pe 
 culiarly so to the female heart, and more than all, after 
 a long deprivation of them. None but those who have 
 seen, have imagined the sumpiuousness of a dinner on 
 board a first-rate Mississippi steam-boat. At dinner, 
 Mrs. Mason was led by her son to the head of the ta 
 ble, and saw ranged below her eighty well-dressed and 
 genteel-looking people. She was once more seated at 
 a table, where every thing was in order, and where she 
 was respectfully and astiduously helped, and where all 
 the observances of society were understood and prac 
 tised. Her heart expanded, at what she saw, and the 
 pleasant recollections of other days. The simplicity 
 and poverty of a backwoods life had not been the offen 
 sive features of that condition to her. But she was 
 perfectly willing to resign to the disciples of Rousseau 
 their admiration of savage and demi -savage life. It is 
 true, she watched her beautiful daughter with an anx 
 ious and painful solicitude, lest her inexperience in the 
 forms of society should show itself in awkwardness and 
 rusticity. It is true, too, that her daughter had seen 
 but little for a long period of that important time, when 
 her mind was unfolding from childhood to maturity, ex 
 cept woods, Indians, and the coarse young men in the 
 settlement. But it is also true, that she had read some 
 of the smuggled novels of her mother, that she had 
 thought a great deal, and that she had had abundant 
 leisure to study the innocent novel of her own heart. 
 It is equally true, that there are some young ladies, 
 who seem to be instinctively endowed with native grace 
 and tact, to comprehend the proprieties of deportment, 
 and Miss Eliza knew a great many things, with perfect 
 clearness, which no one could have expected from her 
 condition and advantages. For instance, amidst all the 
 clatter, bustle, and novelty of this dinner, and a posi- 
 12* 
 
138 GEORGE MASON, 
 
 tion, which it may be supposed, was not a little embar 
 rassing to her, she had not failed to discover, and had 
 she chosen she could have told a confidant as much, 
 that a young man sat opposite her with the prettiest 
 velvet softness and smoothness of manner and voice im 
 aginable, and that he had evidently wished to anticipate 
 her wants, <^c. She could have admitted, that there was 
 another fine-looking young man in the world, beside her 
 brother. She would not, probably, have allowed to that 
 confidant, or even to her own conscience, what was 
 nevertheless a fact, that her eye had caught a glance 
 of his, and read, and interpreted the expression and 
 import of that glance. 
 
 Young ladies of a certain age and character, it must 
 be confessed, are much more adroit at comprehending 
 and practising the decencies and proprieties of deport 
 ment, than young men, Nature, if she has fair play, 
 knows be.'tter, what she is about, than ait with all her 
 vile instructions in grimace and affectation. Be it as it 
 may, the natural grace, sensibility, and elegance of this 
 untaught wood-nymph did the business for poor Mr. 
 Leonard, for it was he who sal opposite her, more 
 effectual y than if she had been trained to murder at a 
 fashionable boarding-school. To prove in fact, a priori, 
 as they say, that Eliza Mason knew a thing or two, in 
 the way of management, it is only necessary to relate one 
 fact, that anticipating, that her three young brothers 
 brought with devouring appetites from the simple diet 
 of their cabin to such a sumptuous dinner, migjit create 
 unpleasant notice, by their voraciousness, she had given 
 them their fill of sweet cake and raisins three times in 
 the forenoon. Her mother had aimed at the same re 
 sult by giving them an emphatic lecture, in the privacy 
 of the cabin, touching the manner, in which they must 
 behave themselves at table. I will not say, which man 
 agement had the most efficacy upon the deportment of 
 the boys. After all, Eliza cast an anxious eye upon 
 them, as they sat below her at table, and saw with in- 
 
THE YOUNG BACKWOODSMAN. 139 
 
 finite satisfaction, that their total want of appetite gave 
 their sylvan rusticity an air of well-bred indifference and 
 fastidiousness. 
 
 I can imagine few conditions more favorable to en 
 joyment, than this trip of Mrs. Mason to her new resi 
 dence on the Ohio. A steam-boat under such circum 
 stances, as the present, is always delightful at first. In 
 most instances it completely fills the imagination, and 
 wears as well as most pleasant earthly things. It is 
 true, time and repetition dispel at least the charm of 
 novelty. But the first two days of a steam-boat trip in 
 the spring, under favorable circumstances, are even yet 
 after such long; use to them, delightful to me. Every 
 thing conspired to render this a charming voyage to 
 Mrs. Mason. The season was the pleasantest in the 
 year, that is to say, Spring, and that season is nowhere 
 more delightful, than on the shores of the Ohio. An 
 uncommon proportion of the passengers were^of the 
 most respectable class. The boat was in fine order, 
 The river was full to the brim. The vernal gales were 
 breathing their sweetest influences from the south. The 
 verdure of the forests, as far as they could see from the 
 boat, had that depth and grandeur which are peculiar 
 to the lower course of the Ohio and the Mississippi. 
 With the exception of two or three solitary bluffs on the 
 Mississippi, the children had but once seen hills, since 
 they had lived in the country. The first bluffs that are 
 seen on ascending the Ohio, are singularly magnificent 
 and grand. There is deep water, as every one, ac 
 customed to the scenery, knows, directly on the verge 
 of the shore, at the foot of these bluffs. -They have a 
 nobleness of rounding, and a whimsical variety of sum 
 mits, which 1 want words to describe. The boat sweeps 
 along at their base, and early in the afternoon is com 
 pletely in the shade. Oftentimes, these bluffs have an 
 aspect, as if they would roll down upon the boat, and 
 dam up the beautiful river. I have never seen spring 
 more charming, and I have no more pleasant associa- 
 
140 bEORGE MASON, 
 
 tions with the mere physical enjoyment of existence 
 than in sitting on the guard in mild weather in tho 
 spring, after the sun lias sunk behind these noble hills. 
 At this season, on pleasant evenings, there is an ineffa 
 ble softness and mildness in the temperature, and a 
 bland and balmy fragrance in the atmosphere. To my 
 eye there is not a more beautiful shrub in nature than 
 that of the red-bud in full blossom. It is a perfect tuft 
 of beautiful peach-blossom flowers, and they show on 
 the precipitous declivities of these bluffs, strung one 
 above another, and diffused on every side through the 
 forest, so that, taken into the eye along with the splen 
 did white flowers of the dog-wood, the wilderness at 
 this season may literally be said to blossom. A hun 
 dred romantic stories, told by the boatmen, about the 
 "house of nature," " the cave in rock," and the resi 
 dences of robbers, and their exploits of blood, and at 
 tacks of the InJians in former days, concur to give im 
 pression and interest to this scenery. 
 
 Madam Mason was this evening sitting on the guards 
 of the bo;it, as it was gliding swiftly along, in the shade 
 of the lofty and flowering bluff;;, on the north bank of 
 the Ohio. She sat in a cushioned settee with her two 
 younger children on her right hand, and Eliza and 
 Henry on her left. The scene was full of sublimity 
 and repose, and the shrubs, the flowers, the cliffs, the 
 trees, the sky, and the columns of smoke spouted up 
 from the tubes of the furnace, were beautifully painted 
 in the water, as the boat seemed to My over the paint 
 ing, and yet to transport it, as it went. The children 
 expressed their untrained admiration, by interjections ; 
 the mother by the calm and pleasing silence, of contem 
 plation, and communion with the Author of this beauti 
 ful nature. Half way up the cliffs, the birds were sing 
 ing their "vesper hymns," undisturbed by the uproar 
 of the passing boat. 
 
 After the sun no longer gilded the springing verdure 
 on the summit of the bluffs, and as the repose and beau- 
 
THE YOUNG BACKWOODSMAN. 141 
 
 ty of the scene, along with the increasing dusk of twi 
 light, gave confidence to the timidily of incipient love, 
 young Mr. Leonard so contrived it, that he was intro 
 duced by the captain to Mrs. Mason. Of course, he 
 took a seat between the settee and the guards. He 
 soon found where Mrs. Mason was born. It was next 
 discovered, that they were both Yankees; thirdly, that 
 their parents were acquainted ; fourthly, that they were 
 related within the degree of twentieth cousins ; fifthly, 
 that he had taken a strong liking to the captain all the 
 way from New Orleans. From these circumstances of 
 affinity, and as he was, moreover, a remarkably good- 
 looking young man, gentle, mild, quiet, and sweet spoken, 
 handsomely dressed, and of elegant manners, and as he 
 so warmly liked George, it was natural, that Mrs. Ma 
 son should take a motherly interest in him. When he 
 painted the mental anguish it had cost him, to tear him 
 self away from a widowed mother at home, of whom he 
 was the only child, for an absence so long, as a six 
 months' excursion to a distant and strange island, and 
 the agony of his mother's farewell, at a parting under 
 such just grounds of apprehension, that she should never 
 see him again in the flesh, it is natural, that Mrs. Ma 
 son, should remember certain passages in her own life, 
 and that her eyes should fill at the recollection. Nor 
 could Eliza, as she reached her mother her handker 
 chief, forbear to notice the kindling suffusion in the still 
 delicate cheek of Mr. Leonard. This interesting young 
 man was a subject of contemplation ten times more 
 dangerous to such a girl as Eliza, while relating the in 
 cidents of such a parting, with a countenance and form 
 indicative of convalescence only partially established, 
 than he would have been in the perfect glow of the 
 most robust health. 
 
 Two or three such "sentimental" evenings followed in 
 succession, and astronomy, and the starry heavens, and 
 the spirits that dwell in those twinkling orbs, and 
 
142 
 
 GEORGE MASON, 
 
 munion of spirit by moon-light, and domestic happiness, 
 and green hills, and sheltered valleys, and many other 
 pretty and tender talks, that fall in with the feelings of 
 a certain age, drawing from the speakers a kind of half 
 sigh after them, never forgetting, towards the close, the 
 delectableness of " Platonic friendship," made the gene 
 ral burden of these conversations. However the other 
 young men on board envied young Leonard, it soon 
 came to be a matter of common understanding, that he 
 was the person, whose participation in these evening 
 sittings was the most acceptable. Nor had Eliza failed 
 to receive many witty compliments in the ladies' cabin, 
 from the young ladies, upon her conquest. Nor had 
 she failed to be informed of the immense wealth of 
 young Leonard, his fine education, winning manners, 
 Sic. Nor did she fail to receive representations, dark 
 ened by the tints of envy, of the faithlessness of such 
 rich young men, and the multitudes of bonnets that were 
 set for them, thrown in by way of damper to her rising 
 hopes, if any she had. This charming girl knew a good 
 many things, that she did not tell every body, and had 
 an eye, that flashed both wit and good nature. She 
 heard all, understood all, and smiled, and parried these 
 representations, affirming, not exactly according to sin 
 cerity, that she had no interest in the question of any 
 one's constancy. The truth is, even they believed 
 much more in his being in earnest, than they wished to 
 believe. 
 
 " Sentimental evenings " are wonderful squanderers 
 of time, and before they thought of such a thing, the 
 captain announced, that -they would arrive at L. the 
 next day, and of course, that his mother would leave 
 the boat for their new residence, early in the morning. 
 No time was to be lost for certain purposes of Mr. 
 Leonard, and he found an opportunity to say things to 
 Eliza in private, that called both for courage and recol 
 lection, on her part, to answer properly. For my part, 
 
THE YOUNG BACKWOODSMAN. 143 
 
 I am at a loss to account for her self-possession in this 
 case. But true it is, that she answered certain ques 
 tions as much to the point, as if she had been trained 
 for years to indite the answers, and on the whole, I 
 have been led to believe, that she had, in some mea 
 sure, prepared herself to hear such conversations, and 
 to answer such questions, as were now proposed to her. 
 The whole of this conversation has not been reported 
 to me. But it is said, that she reminded him, that he 
 was educated, and that she was not ; that he was re 
 puted rich, and that she was poor ; and that she could 
 never think, were there no other impediments in the 
 way of what he proposed, of being in any way instru 
 mental in inducing such a mother, as he described his 
 to be, to reproach him with marrying unequally and 
 unworthily. In saying all this, it is true, she was much 
 flurriedj and seemed for a moment to labor under diffi 
 culty of breathing. But as the children soon made 
 light of the first terrors of the machinery of the boat, so 
 this timid girl began to recover breath and self-posses 
 sion. In fact, he interrupted her, and proved to her, 
 that she was finely educated, that she was rich in 
 charms, and rich in endowments, and rich in native tact, 
 and rich in every thing, which he cared any thing about ; 
 and that the very thing, that made his mother good and 
 dear to him, was, that she always thought just as he 
 did, and that he was sure to a demonstration, that she 
 would view this matter, as he did, and love her as 
 well and a great many more last words, which took 
 up a full hour in the saying. It is generally believed, 
 that she threw no more discouragement and denial into 
 her remarks and answers, than just enough to operate, 
 according to her understanding of the doctrine of mind 
 and heart, as the most effectual means to fix him in his 
 present purposes, and that, though she never confessed 
 as much to any one, notwithstanding all that she had 
 heard about the infidelity of such persons, and the little 
 
144 GEORGE MASON, 
 
 reliance to be placed upon their promises, she did most 
 implicitly believe, that she should botli hear from, and 
 see him again. 
 
 On arriving at her place, Mrs. Mason found herself 
 comfortably shunted in a good house, aud in a largo 
 and populous village. The children were forthwith put 
 to school. Eliza, amply supplied with books, and with 
 a powerful mind to apply to them, studied, as one who 
 had not been informed to no purpose, that Mr. Leonard 
 was an accomplished scholar. Late, as it was, in the 
 day. to begin, she took lessons in music, and to purpose 
 too. I do not say, that 1 understand all the motives, 
 that led her to apply herself so closely, as to make the 
 roses in her cheek give place to the lilies. I am clear, 
 that an intelligent and good young girl, who aspires to 
 become a companion to such a husband as Mr Leonard, 
 ought to study, that the husband may not find, on inti 
 mate acquaintance after marriage, a total disparity in 
 the mind of his wife. This incessant occupation occa 
 sioned her to hear many witty remarks from the gentle 
 men of the village about " concealment " and a ' worm 
 in the bud," &,c. and the young ladies, when they pass 
 ed her chamber, and saw her at her book, looked sig- 
 nificantlv at each other, and pronounced her a " would- 
 be blue stocking." Some of them at length divined 
 the secret, and though she seemed to understand noth 
 ing of their insinuations, whenever Mr. Leonard's name 
 and town were mischievously mentioned, certain fugi 
 tive tell-tale roses in her cheek said more than met the 
 ear. But her mother's family ranked, on ihe whole, 
 with the best in the village, and was, in many respects, 
 as eligibly situated as it could expect to be in a place 
 of that size. In the course of the summer, George 
 made two trips to New Orleans, on both of which he 
 was uncommonly fortunate, and in that time he became 
 half owner of his steam-boat, and was well understood 
 to be a young man, who was making money, and the 
 
THE YOUNG BACKWOODSMAN. 145 
 
 knowing ones pointed him out, as one who knew what 
 he was about, and would be sure to be rich. Among 
 the ladies he bore the name of the " handsome cap 
 tain." But he sustained the severe temptation of their 
 unequivocal favor, as he had sustained his other temp 
 tations, with the same simple habits of modesty and so 
 briety. 
 
146 GEORGE MASON, 
 
 CHAPTER VIII. 
 
 Consenting love 
 Sheds his own rosy garlands on their heads. 
 
 To those who wish to know, without a trial, what is 
 the character of a residence in a village, Zimmerman 
 "on Solitude, ' ; will be a profitable book. If there are 
 peculiar advantages appended to such a residence, there 
 are also peculiar disadvantages. The stinted range of 
 society, the eager and garrulous inquisitiveness, the 
 concentrated bitterness of all the bad passions, that are 
 put in operation in such a place, are great evils. There 
 are those, who think it easy to live in a village, without 
 mingling with its society, or suffering from its incon 
 veniences. Such will find themselves mistaken, when 
 they make the experiment. They will find, that while 
 we are among men, we must, and ought to* mix with 
 them, to respect them, consult their tastes and opinions, 
 and treat with deference even their prejudices. Such 
 views and feelings will soften the evils and aspprities of 
 such a sojourn. Mrs. Mason's family had talked this 
 matter over, and had agreed to make an effort to be 
 pleased with every thing, and to treat every one re 
 spectfully, but to engage in none of their feuds, and 
 meddle in none of their petty broils and divisions. 
 With these principles the family could not always avoid 
 mixing with the society of the place, though not much 
 in the habit of intimate intercourse with it. There were 
 many pleasant and intelligent people in it ; and in the 
 summer time especially, when its reputed healthfulness, 
 and a mineral spring in it, made it a place of resort from 
 abroad, and from the lower country. Among the par 
 ties which Mrs. Mason, George, and Eliza, attended, 
 this summer, I will give a very general sketch of the 
 character and the circumstances of one, with the double 
 
THE YOUNG BACKWOODSMAN. 147 
 
 purpose of explaining, how they passed their time in 
 this village, and of showing, that even in a village of the 
 third class, in the back-woods of the West, there are all 
 the elements of excitement, of ambition, and interest, 
 that there are in a levee, or a fashionable soiree. 
 
 The reader is probably aware, that the more remote 
 and secluded a village is, and the more reasons there 
 are, that it should possess the ease, freedom, and sim 
 plicity of rural and village manners, the more scrupu 
 lously rigid are its fashionable people in the observance 
 of all the rules, that their information has gleaned, as 
 belonging to the punctilio of fashion. For instance, 
 what is called the first circle in this village is more se 
 vere in its punctilio, than in the city of C. ; and fashion 
 there is more strict, than at Washington ; and at Wash 
 ington, than in Paris. Thus, if the hour is 2 in Paris, 
 it will be 3 in Washington, half past 3 in the next 
 place, 4 in the village, and so down. 
 
 In the large tea-party, that was assembled this eve 
 ning, the silence at first was ominously awful ; and when 
 that was broken, there was much more said about fashion, 
 and much clearer indications, by the different speakers, 
 that it was a thing understood in the extent of all its mys 
 teries here, than we usually witness among people of the 
 haut ton at Saratoga Springs. There were certainly a 
 great many good-looking young men and ladies, among 
 whom were the half a dozen belles of the vicinity, whose 
 several claims to superiority of beauty had not yet been 
 adjusted. There were magnificently broad Leghorn 
 hats, on which waved a whole flower-garden ; there 
 were a goodly number of dandy coats; and, on the whole, 
 a party, who, if they had been simple, easy, unaffected, 
 and unambitious, might have passed, not only a pleasant, 
 but an improving evening together. But odious affec 
 tation and vanity, and the would-be estimation of being 
 acquainted with the great world, and distinguished in it, 
 spoiled all. 
 
 Two or three of the persons here, who gave the tone 
 
146 GEORGE MASON, 
 
 to the fashions of this village, had been distinguished 
 abroad, and as far off as Washington. During the past 
 winter, they had been at New Orleans. They had 
 been present at what are there very significantly teamed, 
 " behaving parties." In these, as the name imports, 
 the persons present are supposed to be on their good 
 behaviour. At first a word only is spoken, under the 
 breath, and the chief part of the amusement consists in 
 looking intently round the apartments, and occasionally 
 giving one foot, as it lies across the other, a gentle 
 shake, and then drawing a deep sigh, which echoes 
 through the circle. Meantime by looking at the foot, 
 you may count, by its gentle and regular movement, 
 the pulsations of the party, and the state of his health 
 and his freedom from fever may be ascertained. 
 
 But in this case, after tea, and before the candles 
 were brought in, there was a kind of interregnum, or 
 democratic rising against etiquette. One person, who 
 seemed to have been collecting courage for the emer 
 gency, pronounced, by. a strong effort, a broken and 
 kind of oracular sentence, and instantly looked round, 
 somewhat alarmed, to see what he had done. Harden 
 ed by his example, forthwith another ventured a part 
 of a sentence, and then a third, at intervals, like the 
 minute guns at a funeral. In a few minutes, it became 
 a general discharge of small arms. The restrained 
 propensity of the "gab" burst forth, and there was a 
 confusion of voices, male and female, which has gene 
 rally been compared to that, at Babel ; but which, in 
 my ear, much more resembles the chattering of a full 
 flock of blackbirds, that have just rested upon a tree. 
 
 George, the handsome captain, was a general favor 
 ite, and his attention was sought by each of the rival 
 beauties, who strove to gain it by praising the appear 
 ance of his sister, which they had just settled by them 
 selves, in private, to be nothing extraordinary, or in any 
 way worthy of the fuss made about it. Eliza, too, was 
 surrounded by beaux, who were teasing her about her 
 
THE YOUNG BACKWOODSMAN, 
 
 149 
 
 fine looks, and Mr. Leonard, and her allowing conceal 
 ment to feed on her damask cheek, &tc. A very con 
 spicuous character in this kind of witty conversation 
 was a small man, much dressed, who had been origi 
 nally bred to some kind of mechanical employment in 
 New-England, but had been, for some years past, em 
 ployed, very much to his own individual emolument, 
 however it may have been to his patients, m administer 
 ing pills in the lower country. His language was a 
 most curious and amusing compound of yankee dialect, 
 west country phrase, and murdered, pedantic, med 
 ical terms. He was administering, in his way, copious 
 doses of flattery to Eliza. Another distinguished per 
 sonage was a limb of the law, and candidate for Con 
 gress ; and he made love to her by technicals from the 
 law. as barbarous and ludicrous as ancient law-latin. 
 
 But the central planet of attraction was a young mar 
 ried lady, from New Orleans, who had preceded her 
 husband on a tour to the north, and by an accident, 
 which had happened to the steam-boat, had been drop 
 ped from the upper spheres of fashion into tin's village, 
 to await the passing of the next steam-boat. Her hus 
 band was rich, and she was reputed at once an oracle, a 
 blue-stocking, a beauty, and a wit. It is certain, that she 
 was called " a sweet woman, a most delightful woman, 
 a heavenly woman, a most accomplished woman," &c. 
 in common language, in New Orleans. Finding her 
 self cast among, what she considered the canaille of this 
 village, her pride suggested to her to remain profoundly 
 silent. But vanity and garrulity carried it against pride. 
 She soon talked incessantly, used snatches of bad 
 French, and repeated, for the tenth time, exactly all that 
 she had said, or heard said, on good authority, during 
 the past winter, about the theatres, French and English, 
 the actors and the plays, the balls and the dancers, 
 Scott and Cooper, and various other unfortunate wights 
 of authors. Up went one to the clouds, with one puff, 
 and away went another to the shades, with a counter- 
 13* 
 
150 GEORGE MASON, 
 
 puff; and all this very much to the annoyance of an 
 old maid in the village, who read all the novels in the 
 circulating library, and had been accustomed to do up 
 the literary decisions of this village for the people. She 
 felt, this evening, like a sceptreless monarch, to no pur 
 pose. Tlie great lady from New Orleans clearly car 
 ried the authority and the conversation, and the other 
 had nothing but the cold comfort of listening. 
 
 A very considerable circle was gathered round a 
 young French planter from Louisana, who sojourned in 
 this village from the same cause with the preceding 
 personage. He was handsome, flippant, volatile, vain, 
 and extremely desirous of playing the amiable ; and 
 was delighted with the circle of ruddy cheeks, that were 
 gathered round him by the reputation of his wealth and 
 amiability. His name was " Polycarp Boisvert," and 
 the ladies were immensely civil to him, under the name 
 of " Puliiker Bosware." He seemed to think it the 
 proper English of his name, and , said, in great glee, 
 " By gar ! his Hinglees name was more sweet, as his 
 French one." To the few, who really saw through the 
 fact, the most amusing personage of the whole party 
 was a stout young attorney from Louisiana, who per 
 sonated a German duke, who was actually travelling in 
 that vicinity. He had taken up a clear conception of 
 his part, and sustained it extremely well, answering with 
 great gravity, in broken English, all ;he questions that 
 were proposed to him, touching Germany ; and sup 
 porting with due humility all the homage which was 
 paid to him as duke. 
 
 There was much laughter, and much wit, real or at 
 tempted, criticism, scanning of character, discussion of 
 politics and great men, and the chances of candidates, 
 and books, anil religion. To be short. Call the thing 
 a soiree, and suppose the scene at Washington or Lon 
 don, and I am confident, it was precisely the same kind 
 of Olla podrida, the same kind of memafentertainment, 
 a little differently garnished. This village had its little 
 
THE YOUNG BACKWOODSMAN. 151 
 
 and great world, its looking up and looking down, its 
 envious and envied, its rival belles, and ambitious doc 
 tors and lawyers ; not forgetting the editor of the village 
 newspaper, nor a bitter feud between Metbodist, Bap 
 tist, and Presbyterian ministers, which should gather 
 the chief harvest of the people into his society. As 
 I have said bofore, there is no good reason why one 
 place should call itself the city, par eminence, and 
 think that politeness will die with it. In this little vil 
 lage, and in this evening party, there was as much scope 
 for love, hale, envy, revenge, ambition, hope, arid fear, as 
 there was about the throne of Napoleon, in his most flour 
 ishing days. This party, with some little allowance for 
 variety, in consequence of variety of guests, may serve, 
 as a sample of all that preceded, and all that followed. 
 
 From August until October, the steam-boat was laid 
 up, and George spent all this happy interval with his 
 mother. As they were continually receiving advances 
 from the people to form acquaintances, it could hardly 
 fail to raise painful impressions, in regard to human na 
 ture, by bringing up the remembrance, how people had 
 shrunk away from them in the day of their adversity. 
 But let the youthful reader remember, that while our ac- 
 ceptableness and standing with society depend much up 
 on appearance and circumstances of that kind, our real 
 respectability, and, w 7 e may add, capacity for enjoyment, 
 are in our own keeping, and depend upon ourselves. 
 A family, like this, in which the good will of the world 
 is met by corresponding good will, but which does not 
 at all depend upon that for enjoyment, is fitted for any 
 condition, solitude or society, poverty or riches. 
 
 Before I take leave of George, I wish to satisfy the 
 curiosity of the reader, touching another important point 
 of his fortune. I count nothing on keeping him in sus 
 pense. Our hero is now married, and is considered a 
 young man of the most rising fortunes of any in the vi 
 cinity of his residence. He has already been solicited 
 to stand a poll, as candidate for congress, and has been 
 
152 
 
 GEORGE MASON, 
 
 seriously advised to open a lawyer's office, and get a 
 touch of the law, for by the unhappy consent of the 
 country, all great officers must enter the temple of 
 Fame through that vestibule. Even in the circumstances, 
 that determined him in the choice of his wife, he evin 
 ced his kind feelings, his nobleness of mind, and his pe 
 culiar character. He was returning, in the following 
 spring, from New-Orleans, and was passing by a small 
 town in Indiana, not far above the mouth of the Wa- 
 bash, with his cabin crowded with passengers ; among 
 whom were many fastidious ladies, who affected great 
 delicacy. Every birth had been already taken. The 
 ladies' cabin had been extended, so as to take in a 
 number of the gentlemen's births, by drawing a curtain 
 across the apartment. While the boat stopped, just 
 above this village, to take in wood, a couple of young 
 ladies came down the bank, and requested a passage, 
 stating, that they were on their way to Wheeling, in 
 Virginia. They were tall, slender, flaxen-haired girls, 
 dressed plainly in crape, and in deep mourning, and, as 
 those who saw, declared, with countenances of uncom 
 mon interest and beauty. Such was the report of them 
 that was made by the gentlemen among the ladies. As 
 it happened, when they made this application, the cap 
 tain was busy on deck, and knew nothing of it. In his 
 absence, the clerk acted for him. He came into the 
 cabin, slated the circumstances of the application, and 
 asked the ladies, if any arrangements could be made 
 for ih<?ir admission, adding, that they seemed to be ex 
 ceedingly eager to obtain a passage at any rate, and 
 that thpy appeared to be in trouble, for that he had ob 
 served them in tears, when he expressed to them his 
 doubts, about their being able to get a place in tho 
 ladies' cabin. A gentleman from the shore, at the 
 same time, informed, that they were orphan mourners, 
 and young ladies of uncommon interest, and that, al 
 though he knew little about them, he was anxious that 
 they should be accommodated with a place. The gen- 
 
 
THE YOUNG BACKWOODSMAN. 153 
 
 tlemen, generally, seemed to feel as he did, and pro 
 posed to the ladies, to allow them to come in, if it were 
 only to have a place to spread a mattrass on the floor. 
 
 Sorry I am to state, that the circumstance of their 
 being lovely, orphans, mourners, and in tears, did not 
 appear at all to make in their favor with the ladies. 
 They almost unanimously affirmed, that they were 
 crowded beyond bearing already ; and the fair conclave 
 began to exercise their inventive talents, in discussing 
 them, and. their case, with very little ceremony, and not 
 with an excess of mercy either. Particularly, a young 
 lady with a pug nose, a scornful toss of the head, and 
 an uncommonly fine dress, declared, that for her part, 
 she wanted no weeping, die-away young ladies, with 
 their weeds on, she dared to say, only because they 
 thought they rendered them lovely and interesting ; and 
 that she was sufficiently dull, and melancholy already. 
 Another young lady said, " pretty they might be, but 
 they were the most awkward and unfashionable things 
 in the world, that their dowdy clothes were made like 
 nothing she had ever seen, and that she wondered, 
 where the gentlemen could find any thing interesting in 
 such people." Others said, " if they were poor, as seem 
 ed to be generally supposed, let them go on deck with 
 the other poor people." In short, the ladies decided, by 
 a gneat majority, against admitting them into the cabin. 
 
 The clerk went out, and reported this decision to the 
 young applicants on the bank. They were observed to 
 weep, and converse together a moment, and then they 
 came to the clerk and told him, that circumstances 
 were imperious with them, and that they wished to 
 come on board, even if they went on deck. He in 
 formed them, that they could take a passage there, if 
 they chose, and begged them to make their election, 
 for that the boat was just ready to start. The elder 
 gave her hand to the younger, and led her on board, 
 and the plank was taken in, and the boat got under 
 way. The clerk showed them on deck, where there 
 
154 GEORGE MASON, 
 
 were two hundred passengers, among whom were many 
 families with females of reputable character, but evi 
 dently altogether ill assorted with theirs. As soon as 
 they reached the top of the ladder, and took a survey 
 of the company above, they turned as pale as death, and 
 recoiled from mounting any higher, than the first roof, 
 On a vacant space, just above the companion ladder, 
 the fair and shrinking girls sat down on chairs, which 
 the clerk handed them. They drew down their veils, 
 and sat with their faces towards each other under the 
 full sun, and as motionless as statues. 
 
 Before night many of the gentlemen had felt a de 
 sire to walk upon deck, and, in so doing, had scruti 
 nized the countenances of the mourners through their 
 veils. If any of the cabin-ladies dreaded, as is possi 
 ble, the interest they might create on board, they could 
 not have taken a more effectual method, to create it in 
 the highest degree, than by causing them to be excluded 
 from the cabin. A strong feeling of sympathy was ex 
 cited in their favor. Their beauty, loveliness, and ap 
 parent grief started every generous and romantic feel 
 ing, and instantly put in operation the creative powers 
 of imagination, to eke out a romance for them. Every 
 gentleman on board had been to examine their names 
 on the clerk's book. It was a warm and pleasant Sab 
 bath morning in spring, when the woods were in blos 
 som, the air inspired languor, and the day forbade cards 
 and the usual modes of killing time ; and the men were 
 tormented with ennui ; and this was just the kind of 
 subject to relieve them, by curiosity, from the oppressive 
 burden of their time. I know not how it happened, 
 that so strong and immediate an interest was created in 
 the strangers' favor. But so it was. It seemed to be gen 
 erally made out, that they were of good family, but poor, 
 and had seen better days, and had now but just so much 
 money, as would carry them on their way, and not 
 enough, to allow them to remain and board, until anoth 
 er boat should come along. A benevolent gentleman, 
 
THE YOUNG BACKWOODSMAN. 155 
 
 on this presumption, started a subscription in their fa 
 vor, and it was immediately filled up, to the extent to 
 pay their passage in the cabin. The clerk, whose wife 
 was on board, and who occupied one of the state cabins, 
 was persuaded to relinquish it in their favor, making ar 
 rangements with the pilot to occupy his cabin. 
 
 All these circumstances were told to the captain, 
 whose imagination and feelings were awakened in a 
 moment by the story. He was requested to carry the 
 mourners the amount of the subscription, and inform 
 them of the arrangements in their favor, and invite them 
 to descend to the cabin. The captain's bosom was 
 thus made bare for the infliction of a wound. His 
 heart misgave him, as he saw these interesting fig 
 ures, arm in arm, in a dress of deep mourning, which 
 indicated all the ingenious devices of proud and inven 
 tive poverty, to make it decent. The thought of his 
 mother and sister, immediately after the death of his 
 father, rushed upon him. Under such circumstances 
 he executed his commission. The elder of the mourn 
 ers drew up her veil, as the captain addressed her, and 
 showed a face so lovely, pale, and subdued by sorrow, 
 as could not fail to awaken pity, and with that a deeper 
 feeling in a heart constituted like his. She appeared 
 to be touched and affected with such an unexpected 
 expression of sympathy by people, who could not be 
 supposed to know any thing about them. She said in 
 reply, that she wished only to explain so much of their 
 circumstances, as to prove to their benefactors, that 
 their kindness had not been bestowed either upon the 
 unworthy, or the ungrateful. She wished them to be 
 informed, that they thankfully accepted, what was 
 thus generously offered, and that they were orphans, 
 who had lost both father and mother during the past 
 winter ; that they had resided on the Wabash, that they 
 were returning to the residence of their grandfather in 
 Pennsylvania, and that their friends might easily divine, 
 without the humiliation of any acknowledgment on their 
 
156 GEORGE MASON, 
 
 part, why they were so anxious to get on, as to be willing 
 to take a passage on deck, ralher than not be forward 
 ed at that time ; but that they might explain one cir 
 cumstance of the urgency of their case, that they ex 
 pected a relative at C. who would be prepared to at 
 tend them on their journey, and defray the expenses of 
 it, if they were there within a given period ; and that, 
 she hoped, these circumstances would be a sufficient 
 apology for the seeming impropriety of their being found 
 on deck. 
 
 It was but a few moments, that they conversed 
 with George, and in those few moments, they had, in 
 deed, shown themselves intelligent, beyond what could 
 have been expected, in their case ; but otherwise had 
 said nothing, but what any well informed girls would 
 have said in the same case. But the clearness and 
 simplicity of expression, the music of her tones of voice, 
 the mingled dignity, humility, and pensiveness of the 
 countenance and manner of the elder of the girls, (her 
 name was Jane,) left an indelible impression upon his 
 heart. He returned, and related the result of his com 
 mission to the almoners, and naturally conveyed some 
 thing of the coloring of his own imagination and feel 
 ings into the story. In fact, in conveying -their thanks 
 and their apology, he had unconsciously given a most 
 vivid encomium of the orphans, and the ladies rallied 
 him on the spot, as heart-srnitten by these all-conquer 
 ing " deckers," as they were called. 
 
 There was on board one of those ancient maidens, 
 who, by the help of a little ivory in front, false curls, a 
 little touch of the mineral pigments, and sweet-scented 
 washes, hold time at bay. But the depth of their ex 
 perience proves, against all appearances, and all efforts 
 to the contrary, that they have heard, seen, and reflect 
 ed much, that days have spoken to them, and years 
 taught them wisdom. This lady knew every body, and 
 especially every body's genealogy. The marriages of 
 any consequence, that had been contracted, or were 
 
THE YOUNG BACKWOODSMAN. 157 
 
 now ripening within three hundred miles, were all well 
 known to her, with all the whys and wherefores, and 
 how the thing began, proceeded, and terminated. She 
 knew all the beauties in the Mississippi Valley, espe 
 cially those of any fame, and the exact amount of the 
 expectation of every heir and heiress. In short, she 
 was a living newspaper tablet, an immense slate, on 
 which all the passing news was written out, to be ef 
 faced, when a new and more important edition of news 
 was to be circulated. With less data, than will enable 
 an algebraist to make out an equation, she was able to 
 tell every thing about every body. Withal she pos 
 sessed one of the essential requisites of poetry, inven 
 tion, and such a happy talent at guessing, that she sel 
 dom failed to make out a story, that corresponded pret 
 ty accurately with the fact. 
 
 When the little romance of the orphans began to cir 
 culate in the boat, with the help of the facts that the 
 captain had communicated, she instantly divined them 
 from alpha to omega. " Wi,y, la ! " said she, " sure 
 enough ; it is wonderful, I should not have known them 
 at sight ; they are the Misses Belden. Their father, 
 I knew him well, was Michael Belden, only child of the 
 famous old miser Belden of Lancaster county, Penn 
 sylvania. The old hunks owns half the county. Mi 
 chael, the father of these girls, fell in love with a pretty 
 Yankee tailoress, that was hired to make clothes in the 
 family, and besides was fool enough to marry her. 
 You know, I came from Lancaster, and I have met 
 both the parties often. The only apology for Michael, 
 in the case, was, that this poor girl was as beautiful, as 
 wise, and as good, as an angel. As soon as the father 
 was apprized of it, he made the house too warm for 
 them at once. He drove them out, bag and baggage. 
 Neither of the parties had a sous. The father was 
 compelled to give his son a few hundred dollars, by 
 way of compensation for having lived with him, after he 
 was twenty-one. But, after all, they were so destitute, 
 14 
 
158 
 
 that some of their Dutch relatives made them up a purse, 
 by way of charity and for the credit of the name. So 
 the two lovers gathered their all together, and moved 
 off to this Western country, and settled on the edge of 
 a beech^orest, by a beautiful prairie, on the Wabash. 
 I have'tfeen told, that it was a perfect love-and-a-cot- 
 tage life, that they led. They had many children. But 
 the country was sickly, and all the children died, but 
 these pretty girls. Last winter both the parents died 
 of typhus fever, and left these orphans nothing but 
 a log-house and prairie field, that they tried in vain to 
 sell. A friend wrote about their case to the relatives of 
 the old miserly grandfather. The story spread, and they 
 were represented as more destitute than they were. A 
 very considerable breeze was raised in the case, and 
 such was the indignation against the old man, that they 
 talked of putting a guardian over him. Terror at the 
 idea of the possibility of taking his estate out of his 
 hands, caused him so far. to open his purse, as to send 
 for them, to come on, and live with him. I dare war 
 rant, that he sent money on a calculation, that they 
 should take passage on deck. For the old fellow him 
 self, it is well understood, that he intends all his im 
 mense property shall go to a rich relative in the old 
 country." 
 
 It was found, by comparing her story with what oth 
 ers knew, that the ancient chronicler had spelled out 
 the narrative nearly according to the fact. In any 
 point of view, the more George saw them, the deeper 
 were his impressions. Their manners, their astonish 
 ing acquisitions, considering where they had been rear 
 ed, their loveliness, their being disinherited orphans, 
 even their humiliation in being driven on deck, con 
 curred to raise a spell round his imagination, in their 
 favor. I cannot say, whether they slept well the fol 
 lowing night, but it is said, that the captain was more 
 nervous and wakeful than usual, often returning wrong 
 answers to those who asked him cuestions. The first 
 
THE YOUNG BACKWOODSMAN. 159 
 
 half of the night, he voluntarily consented to take the 
 helm on deck, though out of his turn. As it was a clear 
 and lovely night, and as the boat skimmed prosperously 
 up the beautiful wave of the Ohio, he chose to spend 
 the other half of the night on the bow, watching the 
 stars, and, no doubt, occupied with a multitude of 
 pleasant thoughts, associated with the study of astron 
 omy. 
 
 To be brief. He had only two days, in which he 
 could expect to have the lovely orphans as passengers. 
 He had a special inclination to say something private and 
 particular to them. But every body on board seemed lo 
 have the same object, and they appeared solicitous to 
 shrink, as much as possible, from notice and observation. 
 Fifty times he thougHt his courage up to the point of tell 
 ing Miss Jane, how she had made him feel. Fifty times 
 he found his duties, as captain, leading him to the part 
 of the boat, where they sat. But still, when he came 
 up to them, his speech clung to the roof of his mouth. 
 At length, he walked resolutely np to* a chair, near 
 where they sat, breathed hard three or four times, and 
 inly repeated his adage. Upon that, he soon began to 
 be so particular in his conversation, as to give Miss 
 Jane the hue of high health, however pale she had been. 
 a moment before. But, let not the reader imagine, 
 that he was abrupt, or awkward, in ordering his speech. 
 It was well studied,^ and he was much in earnest. He 
 was, as I have attempted to show the reader, a fine 
 young man, in the best and highest sense of the word. 
 But, independently of that, he was a fine fellow, in tho 
 sense in which the ladies understand the term ; that is 
 to say, he was remarkably handsome, a fine, upright, 
 square figure, with a bright eye, and the nobility of na 
 ture marked upon his manners, without a touch of any 
 thing awkward or vulgar about him. Besides, those 
 who have powers and keen sensibilities themselves, in 
 stinctively ken these attributes in others ; and it is a 
 fact, that Miss Jane had seen all this in George, and 
 
1 GO GEORGE MASON, 
 
 had imagined more than she had seen. Jn truth, she 
 had heard from the ancient maiden, aforesaid, all about 
 him. That good soul was an icicle, as touched any 
 hopes for herself, and desponded of ever managing such 
 a concern, for her own particular benefit. But still she 
 divined, how others felt, and had a kind of reflected en 
 joyment in managing such an affair for them. This 
 kind of agency had something of the pleasure, and none 
 of the penalties and dangers of love-making. So she 
 told Miss Jane, what she had inflicted upon the captain, 
 and from that ran on in the most wonderful eulogium of 
 him, painting him, in every relation, thrice more a mira 
 cle, pattern, and mirror of chivalry, generosity, and 
 saintship, than he or any other person ever was ; and 
 she added, " My dear, you have him fast in your 
 chains. Only manage your power right." 
 
 So 'Miss Jane was somewhat prepared for the de 
 claration in question ; and she heard George to the end, 
 for he fairly made love to her, and offered himself in 
 form. After all the usual preliminaries of blushing, and 
 sighing, <^c. she told him, in the customary style, " how 
 much obliged she was for his good opinion, &c. ; but 
 she thought him altogether too sudden in coming to 
 such a decisive resolution, and the acquaintance too 
 short to warrant it, and that she was in no condition to 
 make any definite reply to such a proposition." But, 
 when she saw his countenance fall very much, on re 
 ceiving such a damping reply, she told him, that " al 
 though she could not warrant it, she could not doubt, 
 but her grandfather would be happy to see him at his 
 house." Upon this hint other conversation ensued, until 
 it was understood, that George was to make an excur 
 sion over the .mountains, to the county of Lancaster, 
 when his boat should be laid up, this summer. George 
 made this promise of a journey something in the form 
 of a threat, and Miss Jane answered in a tone of good 
 natured defiance, that she was sure sister Sarah would 
 be p eased to see him, to which sister Sarah very 
 graciously assented. 
 
THE YOUNG BACKWOODSMAN. 161 
 
 When they arrived at C., George gave himself par 
 ticular interest in all that related to sending them on 
 their journey from that place in the stage. An ancient 
 Dutch relative of their grandfather's was there, and 
 waiting to accompany them. George assured them, 
 that he had much rather it had been himself, who should 
 perform that office ; and as the Dutchman aforesaid 
 was a little, old, time-dried, and hard-hearted fellow, 
 as little promising in the inner, as the outer man, 1 have 
 no doubt, that Miss Jane/* in her heart, would have 
 wished the same thing. The next day after their ar 
 rival, George saw them safely deposited in the stage 
 with the little Dutchman; and the stage drove off, with 
 very little parting remark between them. But it is sup 
 posed, that this speech had been made in private, and 
 that Miss Jane had said some words of comfort, which, 
 interpreted by a lover's glossary, had a considerable de 
 gree of explicitness. 
 
 Be that as it may, it was understood that George 
 wa.o to marry Miss Jane Belden. His mother approved 
 his disinterested. spirit ; for it was generally remarked 
 by the young ladies, that George had been caught by 
 a pretty face, and nothing else. His disinterestedness, 
 as some called it. and his folly, as others had it, was 
 the more famous, for it was matter of common parlance, 
 that he could have married an heiress, in the vicinity, 
 if he would. On the first day of the following August, 
 George was on his way over the mountains. Some 
 times it seemed to him a wild-goose chase in reflection 
 upon his object. But he comforted and assured him 
 self in these misgivings, by taking the flattering unction 
 of disinterestedness and sympathy to his soul. He was 
 set down from the stage at a tavern, on the declivity of 
 a noble hiir, from which a broad sweep of a valley was 
 to be seen. Jn the view there were mountains, rivers, 
 noble country-houses, villages, and two large towns, 
 and a dozen spires, and much beautiful still scenery 
 near at hand. In the distance, the grand, turreted niau- 
 
162 GEORGE MASON, 
 
 sion of Mr. Belden displayed itself, above the summits 
 of orchards, and forest trees. George inquired, in a 
 faltering voice, of the landlord, about the young ladies ; 
 whether they had arrived safely ; how they were ; and 
 whether they were kindly received. The landlord was 
 a Dutchman himself, though he spoke good English. 
 George began to tremble ; for he saw by the tones and 
 manner of the host, that the young persons, about whom 
 he asked, were persons of very different estimation in 
 his mind, in regard to their wealth and importance, 
 from what they had been in his own. He immediately 
 put himself in an attitude of respectful oratory, and be 
 gan to relate, how they arrived, and were received. 
 
 "Two months ago," said he, "they got out of the stage 
 at my house ; and sweet girls they were, and admired 
 by every body. They asked me about their grand 
 father, and you would have thought Miss Jane would 
 have fainted, as she inquired about him. 1 could see 
 how their dear hearts trembled, for fear he would not 
 receive them kindly. I gave them all the comfort 1 
 could. But heaven help them ! There was but little 
 comfort in the case. It was thought he had invited 
 them from the back country, only out of fear, and that 
 he haled them for making him afraid. At any rate, 
 he set about making a will, to leave every thing he had 
 to his uncle, Vandergraff, in Germany. 
 
 " He received the dear girls, but not as grand children. 
 He dressed them only as servant girls, and wanted 
 them to run about after the cows and sheep, and would 
 fain have put them to loading hay and wheat. It may 
 be, they did not manage to suit him ; for he was said 
 to be particularly hard with them, and people began to 
 stir more briskly for them than before, now they had 
 seen them. Every body was indignant, that such love 
 ly orphans should be disinherited, and that all his riches 
 should go to a person beyond the seas, that nobody 
 cared any thing about. The old talk of a guardianship 
 was renewed, and stronger than ever. The people 
 
THE YOUNG BACKWOODSMAN. 163 
 
 were as one man about it. Every body signed a pe 
 tition to the orphan's court, setting forth that the old 
 man was in his dotage, and requesting that a guardian 
 might be put over him. The affair got wind, and 
 reached him at the same time with an order of notice, 
 to attend the said court, and show cause, if any he had, 
 why the prayer of the petition should not be granted. 
 He took the best step in the world to prove his sanity, 
 by making a will immediately, in the mi ;t authentic 
 form, giving every thing to his grand daughters, as soon 
 as he died which happened in a few days ; for he was 
 so prodigiously frightened, at the idea of having the dis 
 posal of his property taken out of his hands, that he 
 took immediately to his bed, and died in a week." 
 
 Alas ! poor George. Away went his sympathy and 
 disinterestedness to the winds. The tables were sadly 
 turned against him. He had been jolted over the 
 mountains, night and day; and he had _ soothed his 
 aching bones, and his misgiving mind, with the idea of 
 kindly rescuing two pensive, and ill-treated, and disin 
 herited girls from a brute of a grandfather. He had 
 imagined their grateful tears. He had fancied the im 
 pression, that his manifest freedom from all mercenary 
 motives would make upon such a heart as that of Miss 
 Jane. Indeed, he well remembered, that she had 
 dwelt upon that aspect .of his offer, when he made it. 
 What a complete reverse of the case offered itself! It 
 had now an appearance, as if he had come with views 
 diametrically opposite. The paternal mansion was full 
 in view, and of an aspect of opulence and grandeur to 
 petrify him. The family, too, was precisely the cap of 
 the climax of the ancient German grandees in the coun 
 try. The landlord affected to speak of the defunct 
 with familiarity, and to call him by hard names; but 
 his tones and his looks manifested, that the wealth and 
 grandeur of the family, in his eye, were not unlike the 
 sanctity and importance of the Grand Lama to a devout 
 disciple. He evidently felt, that though the man had 
 
164 GEORGE MASON, 
 
 died, his houses and farms, his name and influence, had 
 revived in the young ladies, representatives of the first 
 Dutch family in the country. He took advantage of 
 the astounded silence of George, to run over the cata 
 logue of the estates and mansions, left to the young 
 heiresses, and to state, that they were already looked 
 upon as game for fortune-hunters, all the way to Phila 
 delphia. To mend the matter, he added, that they would 
 have good advisers, and would not be likely to be caught 
 easily ; but that he hoped, Miss Jane would lend a 
 favorable ear to the suit of the young gentleman who 
 represented them in Congress, and that he rather be 
 lieved, she had given him encouragement, that it would 
 be received graciously. Miss Sarah, loo, it was gene 
 rally believed, was spoken for. At any rate, they were 
 matches for the first and best in the land. 
 
 George pretended to -hearken to a great deal more, 
 and to some indirect inquiries, what his business was 
 with them. But before the conclusion of the speech of 
 his host, his thoughts were a thousand leagues off. His 
 first reflection was, that as affairs stood, his chance was 
 not worth a farthing ; and that he should only show 
 himself a fool, to expect Jane to be the same, now 
 that their relative standing was so completely reversed. 
 He had seen enough of the hardening influence of the 
 world, not to expect that she would catch it like the 
 rest. He could hardly forbear a bitter smile at the 
 thought of his fancied condescension and disinterested 
 ness. His pride, his courage, and his hopes, were all 
 sinking together. But, said he, recurring to his old 
 maxim, " ' Don't let us give up the ship.' Faint heart 
 never won fair lady. Such were my feelings, and so 
 free from all mercenary mixture. True, she may never 
 know that. What care If I am a free man, and the 
 son of a free man. My noble father was worth a 
 dozen Dutchmen, however rich. I am his son, and I 
 have that here, 55 (laying his hand on his bosom,) " that is 
 as proud as the best of them. Suicide is against my prin- 
 
THE YOUNG BACKWOODSMAN. 165 
 
 ciples. My heart may swell awhile with pride and love. 
 But I will try to survive it all. I took the pretty mourn 
 ing witch into my cabin, when I was the patron, and 
 her fortunes kicked the beam. It was her humility and 
 her weepers, that stole my heart away. Now let her 
 marry the Congress man, and dismiss the steam-boat 
 captain, if she will. For my part, I think I had best 
 whistle back, and not go near her to get the flat. Her 
 head is turned, no doubt, with her change of fortune. 
 Why such a mercenary and proud woman would have 
 made a bad wife." 
 
 So thought George with himself. In short, the 
 young man had goaded himself up to a passion of jeal 
 ousy, by the creations of his own brain, and he was 
 trying to lay in a stock of courage and submission, to 
 stand him back, by crying, " Sour grapes ! " But he 
 mentally added, "Suppose I were just to go, and show 
 myself as proud as they, and let them see, with what a 
 careless face I can say, Good bye." This view of the 
 matter determined him to go and try his fortune. Thus 
 ruminating with himself, in a most uncomfortable brown 
 study, he walked down the hill. Just to prove to him 
 self that he was indifferent how matters were like to go, 
 he hummed a tune, and began to affect that apparent 
 indifference, that might have imposed upon another. 
 But when he opened the gate, and walked up the grand 
 avenue, his pulse were one hundred and twenty to the 
 minute. When he seized the bell knob for it was one 
 of your grand houses his heart was in his shoes. A 
 servant in livery came to the door. George observed, 
 that " he wished to call on the young ladies, if they 
 were at home, and at leisure." 
 
 " Please to send up your name," said the servant ; 
 " the ladies only receive particular company at pre 
 sent." 
 
 " The Congress man, I suppose," thought George. 
 By mere accident he happened to have a card in his 
 pocket. So he wrote on it, that, passing that way, he 
 
166 GEORGE MASON, 
 
 wished to send his respects, &c. The servant took up 
 his name, and during his absence, George was con 
 vinced, that the metaphysicians had reason, who said, 
 that, " the only true measure of time is the succession 
 of ideas." In a minute, as clocks measure time, and in 
 a day by the other measure, the sweet and low voice of 
 Miss Jane was heard, asking, " Is it possible, that Mr. 
 Mason could think of passing without visiting us ? " He 
 had whipped himself up to such an idea of being a lov 
 er rejected from mercenary motives, and to such an 
 effort of right and allowable pride and resentment in the 
 case, that he could not instantly let himself down to her 
 affectionate and heart'-felt tones. Her countenance and 
 manner banished all such thoughts in a moment. But 
 they could not in a moment banish ail traces of the 
 storm from his brow. He went in, and took the seat 
 that was placed for him, between the two sisters. Be 
 fore the visible cloud had passed away from his face, 
 Jane had drawn from him a partial avowal of his recent 
 thoughts, touching the premises. The cloud was im 
 mediately transferred from his brow to hers. He had 
 never seen any expression in her countenance, but what 
 was as mild as the sweet South. But there was now 
 considerable flashing in her eye, and a somewhat stejrn 
 remark, thab, " she should always distrust the man, who 
 could think so meanly of her, as to suppose, that her 
 views of any one would be changed by her fortunes," 
 adding, that u a jealous lover would be sure to make 
 a bad husband." Her feelings were evidently aroused, 
 and there had like to have been a counter scene of he 
 roics. But Sarah, who saw how the wind was setting, 
 and the paleness on the cheek of the agitated parties, 
 took the hand of George, and said with great self- 
 composure, " Never mind, Mr. Mason, you and I have 
 had no quarrel in this matter. I will see what can be 
 done for you, if my sister continues in a passion." This 
 well timed interlude enabled the parties to recover their 
 good temper, and it was manifest, that they were too 
 
THE YOUNG BACKWOODSMAN. 167 
 
 much in earnest, to dare torment one another,, and 
 George had soon an entire confidence, that she had the 
 same heart, as an heiress, that she had, as an orphan. 
 
 A few words more will bring the history of the fam 
 ily down to the present time. Jane returned over the 
 mountains, as Mrs. Mason., and brought her sister with 
 her. Mr. Leonard, too, contrary to all the sinister pre 
 dictions of the young ladies in the village, came back a 
 fortnight sooner, than Eliza Mason expected him, and 
 they were married. The whole happy party made an 
 autumnal trip to the Iron Banks. Pompey, the con 
 verted slave, according to George's promise, was pur 
 chased from his master, and set free. But his grateful 
 heart bound him to Mrs. Mason and her family by the 
 new and delightful tenure of gratitude. I do not say, 
 that these people are all perfectly happy. But they 
 t love one another, and are the helpers of each other's 
 joy. Though they have the other evils of mortality to 
 struggle with, they have no fear of poverty, and as they 
 have benevolent and generous hearts, affluence has de 
 scended upon them, as a refreshing shower, spreading 
 happiness and abundance all around them. 
 
 My dear youthful reader, whenever you are in any 
 way tempted to discouragement, remember the old max 
 im, that "the darkest time in the night is just before 
 day." Exert yourself in hope. Be industrious, and 
 while innocent and diligent, respect yourself, and hold 
 yourself inferior to no one. Trust in God. Never 
 despond, and assume the genuine American motto, 
 fi Don't give up the ship." 
 
 FINIS. 
 
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