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 3 at3 247 
 
 v%c 
 
THE LIBRARY 
 
 OF 
 
 THE UNIVERSITY 
 OF CALIFORNIA 
 
 GIFT OF 
 
 Bartlett 
 
flitocrmtic <&ition 
 
 THE 
 
 COMPLETE WORKS OF NATHANIEL 
 
 HAWTHORNE, WITH INTRODUCTORY 
 
 NOTES BY GEORGE PARSONS 
 
 LATHROP 
 
 AND ILLUSTRATED WITH 
 
 Etchings by Blum, Church, Diclman, Gifford, Shirlaw, 
 and Turner 
 
 IN THIRTEEN VOLUMES 
 VOLUME I. 
 
TWICE-TOLD TALES 
 
 BY 
 
 NATHANIEL HAWTHORNE 
 
 BOSTON AND NEW YORK 
 HOUGHTOX, MIFFLIX AND COMPANY 
 
 1891 
 
STv7rT* 1 TTir \J Gil 
 
 Copyright, 1851, 
 BY NATHANIEL HAWTHORNE. 
 
 Copyright, 1879, 
 BY ROSE HAWTHORNE LATHROP, 
 
 Copyright, 1882, 
 Br IIOUGHTON, MIFFLIN & CO. 
 
 All rights reserved. 
 
 The Riyfrside Press, Cambridge, Mass., U. S. A. 
 Electrotyped and Printed by H. O. Houghton & Company. 
 
A 
 
 If f J^ 
 
 CONTENTS. 
 
 PAM 
 
 INTRODUCTORY NOTE 7 
 
 PREFACE 13 
 
 THE GRAY CHAMPION 2i 
 
 SUNDAY AT HOME 32 
 
 THE WEDDING KNELL 41 
 
 THE MINISTER S BLACK VEIL . . . . . .52 
 
 THE MAY-POLE OP MERRY MOUNT 70 
 
 THE GENTLE BOY 85 
 
 MR. HIGGINBOTHAM S CATASTROPHE 127 
 
 LITTLE ANNIE S RAMBLE 143 
 
 WAKEFIELD 153 
 
 A RILL FROM THE TOWN PUMP 165 
 
 THE GREAT CARBUNCLE .173 
 
 THE PROPHETIC PICTURES / x 192 
 
 DAVID SWAN ....... 211 
 
 SIGHTS FROM A STEEPLE 219 
 
 THE HOLLOW OF THE THREE HILLS 228 
 
 THE TOLL-GATHERER S DAY 234 
 
 THE VISION OF THE FOUNTAIN 242 
 
 FANCY S SHOW Box . 250 
 
 DR. HEIDEGGER S EXPERIMENT . - 258 
 LEGENDS OF THE PROVINCE HOUSE. 
 
 I. Howe s Masquerade 272 
 
 II. Edward Randolph s Portrait . 291 
 
 III. Lady Eleanore s Mantle 307 
 
 IV. Old Esther Dudley .... - 328 
 
6 CONTENTS. 
 
 PAQl 
 
 THE HAUNTED MIND . 343 
 
 THE VILLAGE UNCLE 349 
 
 THE AMBITIOUS GUEST 364 
 
 THE SISTER YEARS 375 
 
 SNOWFLAKES 385 
 
 THE SEVEN VAGABONDS 392 
 
 THE WHITE OLD MAID 414 
 
 PETER GOLDTHWAITE S TREASURE 428 
 
 CHIPPING s WITH A CHISEL 455 
 
 THE SHAKER BRIDAL 469 
 
 NIGHT SKETCHES 477 
 
 ENDICOTT AND THE RED CROSS 485 
 
 THE LILY S QUEST 495 
 
 FOOTPRINTS ON THE SEA-SHORE 504 
 
 EDWARD FANE S ROSEBUD 517 
 
 THE THREEFOLD DESTINY 527 
 
INTRODUCTORY NOTE. 
 
 THE TWICE-TOLD TALES. 
 
 Ox his return to his native town, Salem, after grad 
 uating at Bowdoin College in 1825, Hawthorne de 
 voted himself to writing fiction. His first book was 
 the romance of " Fanshawe," l which, however, made 
 no impression on the public. He next produced a 
 volume of stories to which he gave the title " Seven 
 Tales of my Native Land " ; but, after discouraging 
 search for a publisher, he destroyed the manuscript. 
 Whether any of the material composing that work was 
 embodied in his later short stories it is impossible to 
 determine, on the evidence now remaining. Still, it 
 is not unlikely that he drew upon it. from memory, 
 for the foundation of some among the " Twice-Told 
 Tales/ The sketches and stories now known collec 
 tively under this title were written mainly in a little 
 room in the second story of a house on Herbert Street, 
 Salem, from the windows of which Hawthorne s birth 
 place on the adjoining street (Union) is visible. " In 
 this dismal chamber fame was won : " so runs a pas 
 sage in the u American Note-Books." Under another 
 date he says of it : " And here I sat a long, long time, 
 waiting patiently for the world to know me, and some 
 times wondering why it did not know me sooner, or 
 whether it would ever know me at all." 
 
 1 See vol. 11 of this edition. 
 
8 INTRODUCTORY NOTE. 
 
 The Herbert Street house was habitually referred 
 to by the members of the Hawthorne family as being 
 on Union Street, since the family residence and the 
 birthplace were connected by the lots of land attached 
 respectively to each. The mansion on Union Street 
 has since undergone considerable alteration, a large 
 part of it having been taken down some years ago, 
 owing to its dilapidated condition. On Dearborn 
 Street there was another house, built for the mother 
 of Hawthorne by her brother, Robert Manning, in 
 which Hawthorne lived for about four years, though 
 at what time precisely it is impossible to state. In 
 the Dearborn Street house, also, he had a study; but 
 the edifice has been removed to another site and al 
 tered. The Herbert Street (or, as in the Note-Books, 
 Union Street) house was evidently the one which 
 Hawthorne most closely associated with the production 
 of his short stories. 
 
 The earlier pieces appeared in the " Salem Gazette " 
 newspaper, and in the "New England Magazine" 
 (published in Boston from 1831 to 1834). Some 
 times they bore the author s real name, and sometimes 
 a pseudonym was attached. Several among them pur 
 ported to have been written by " Ashley Allen Royce," 
 or the " Rev. A. A. Royce." Another pen-name used 
 by the young romancer was " Oberon " ; the choice of 
 which may be explained by the fact that, as the late 
 Henry W. Longfellow recalled, some of the college 
 friends of Hawthorne had nicknamed him Oberon, in 
 allusion to his personal beauty and the imaginative 
 tone of his conversation. But notwithstanding the va 
 riety of names under which he thus disguised himself, 
 his writings revealed so clear an individuality that 
 many persons recognized them as being the work of 
 
INTRODUCTORY NOTE. D 
 
 one mind. In 1836, he went to Boston to edit a mag 
 azine for S. G. Goodrich, then known as a popular 
 compiler and publisher; and while thus engaged he 
 wrote a large part of " Peter Parley s Universal His 
 tory," which passed for Goodrich s composition and 
 attained a wide popularity. At the same time he con 
 tributed to the Boston k Token " several of the best of 
 his short stories, which received high praise in Lon 
 don. It was not until their issue in book form that 
 they attracted similar encomiums in this country. 
 
 Hawthorne s original plan was to collect them in a 
 series joined by an introduction and chapters of con 
 nected narrative ; the whole to be called "The Story- 
 Teller." A part of this projected framework has been 
 preserved in the " Mosses from an Old Manse : " 1 and 
 the Author there says : 
 
 With each specimen will be given a sketch of the cir 
 cumstances in which the story was told. Thus my air-drawn 
 pictures will be set in a framework perhaps more valuable 
 than the pictures themselves, since they will be embossed 
 with groups of characteristic figures, amid the lake and 
 mountain scenery, the villages and fertile fields, of our na 
 tive land. 
 
 The plan of " The Story-Teller " was, to represent a 
 young man of apostolical bent who set out to go from 
 town to town, giving a sermon every morning, while 
 a friend who accompanied him was to relate in pub 
 lic, every afternoon, a story illustrating the text pre 
 viously discoursed upon by the preacher; the whole 
 affair being announced in each place by posters, much 
 in the manner of a travelling show. It might be sup- 
 
 1 See " Passages from a Relinquished Work," in the second vol- 
 nme of the Mosses. It was intended to preface Mr. Higginbotham t 
 Catastrophe." 
 
10 INTRODUCTORY NOTE. 
 
 posed that the introduction of sermons in a book of 
 fiction would offer a stumbling-block to success ; but 
 Hawthorne evaded this obvious difficulty by merely 
 mentioning the sermons and then giving the stories in 
 full. Mr. Goodrich gave the scheme no encourage 
 ment, but took the introductory portion describing the 
 preacher and the raconteur to a magazine. It is worth 
 recording as a curious fact in literary history that for 
 the accompanying stories which Goodrich used in his 
 annual he gave Hawthorne about three dollars apiece. 
 
 Finally, through the intervention of Mr. Horatio 
 Bridge, who privately became responsible to this more 
 than prudent publisher for the attendant expense, the 
 first series of stories was given to the world in per 
 manent form, as a handful of disconnected composi 
 tions, under the general heading of " Twice-Told 
 Tales." Possibly the title was suggested by that line, 
 given to Lewis, the Dauphin, in " King John " : 
 " Life is as tedious as a twice-told tale." 
 
 About eight years after the first volume, a second 
 one was issued ; but even this did not include all the 
 productions of the early period, some of which have 
 since been brought to light. A few have perhaps es 
 caped notice. The present writer discovered in a mu 
 tilated copy of the "Token," for 1835, this entry 
 among the contents : " Alice Doane s Appeal. By 
 the Author of 4 The Gentle Boy. Only two pages 
 of the story itself remained ; but they sufficed to show 
 that the contribution was one which has hitherto 
 found no place in the collected works. A complete 
 copy having with some difficulty been obtained, the 
 sketch in question will be included in the 12th volume 
 of the present edition. 
 
 " The Gentle Boy " probably did more for the 
 
INTRODUCTORY NOTE. 11 
 
 author s reputation than any other of the " Twice- 
 Told Tales." Furthermore, as the volume containing 
 it formed a link in his acquaintance with Miss Sophia 
 A. Peabody, the lady whom he afterwards married, so 
 that particular story itself was by her made the sub 
 ject of a drawing, which now becomes a matter of lit 
 erary interest. A special edition of " The Gentle 
 Boy " was published in 1839 : it was a thin, oblong 
 quarto in paper covers, accompanied by an illustration 
 engraved from Miss Peabody s outline drawing. This 
 edition, now so rare as almost to have passed out of 
 existence, contained a brief preface by Hawthorne, 
 in which he said : " The tale, of which a new edition 
 is now offered to the public, was among the earliest 
 efforts of its author s pen ; and, little noticed on its 
 first appearance in one of the annuals, appears ulti 
 mately to have awakened the interest of a larger num 
 ber of readers than any of his subsequent produc 
 tions ; . . . there are several among the Twice-Told 
 Tales which, on reperusal, affect him less painfully 
 with a sense of imperfect and ill-wrought conception 
 than 4 The Gentle Boy. But the opinion of many 
 . . . compels him to the conclusion that nature here 
 led him deeper into the universal heart than art has 
 been able to follow/ A letter from Hawthorne to 
 Longfellow, referring to the first volume of the tales, 
 contains another remark of general interest : " I have 
 another great difficulty in the lack of materials ; for I 
 have seen so little of the world that I have nothing 
 but thin air to concoct my stories of. ... Sometimes, 
 through a peep-hole, I have caught a glimpse of the 
 real world, and the two or three articles in which I 
 have portrayed these glimpses please me better than 
 the others." 
 
12 INTRODUCTORY NOTE. 
 
 " The Toll-Gatherer s Day," evidently derived from 
 minute observation of the traffic on a bridge near 
 Salem ; and " Little Annie s Ramble," which is said 
 to have had for its heroine a child from real life, were 
 perhaps placed by the Author in this favored category. 
 
 The paper entitled " A Sunday at Home " was 
 based on a meeting-house, near the birthplace in 
 Union Street, concerning which Hawthorne s surviving 
 sister writes to the editor : " It never had a steeple, 
 nor a clock, nor a bell, nor, of course, an organ. . . . 
 But Hawthorne bestows all these incitements to devo 
 tion to atone for his own personal withdrawal from 
 such influences. It was from the house on Herbert 
 Street that he saw what he describes." But, like 
 " The Seven Vagabonds " (founded on a trip which 
 the Author made through part of Connecticut), such 
 pieces as are most tinged with actuality have not in 
 terested readers so much as the pure invention of 
 " David Swan," or the weird coloring of those half- 
 historic records, the " Legends of the Province 
 House." 
 
 Nevertheless, looked at closely, and with due knowl 
 edge of the accompanying facts of Hawthorne s life at 
 the time, 1 the whole collection affords, besides the dis 
 tinct imaginative pleasure to be got from it, valuable 
 intimations as to Hawthorne s development during the 
 first decade of his career as an author. 
 
 G. P. L. 
 1 See A Study of Hawthorne, Chapter IV. 
 
PREFACE. 
 
 THE Author of " Twice-Told Tales " has a claim to 
 one distinction, which, as none of his literary breth 
 ren will care about disputing it with him, he need 
 not be afraid to mention. He was, for a good many 
 years, the obscurest man of letters in America. 
 
 These stories were published in magazines and an 
 nuals, extending over a period of ten or twelve years, 
 and comprising the whole of the writer s young man 
 hood, without making (so far as he has ever been 
 aware) the slightest impression on the public. One 
 or two among them, the " Rill from the Town 
 Pump," in perhaps a greater degree than any other, 
 had a pretty wide newspaper circulation ; as for the 
 vest, he had no grounds for supposing that, on their 
 first appearance, they met with the good or evil for 
 tune to be read by anybod}\ Throughout the time 
 above specified, he had no incitement to literary effort 
 in a reasonable prospect of reputation or profit, noth 
 ing but the pleasure itself of composition an enjoy 
 ment not at all amiss in its way, and perhaps essential 
 to the merit of the work in hand, but which, in the 
 long run, will hardly keep the chill out of a writer s 
 heart, or the numbness out of his fingers. To this 
 
14 PREFACE. 
 
 total lack of sympathy, at the age when his mind 
 would naturally have been most effervescent, the 
 public owe it (and it is certainly an effect not to be 
 regretted on either part) that the Author can show 
 nothing for the thought and industry of that portion 
 of his life, save the forty sketches, or thereabouts, in 
 cluded in these volumes. 
 
 Much more, indeed, he wrote ; and some very small 
 part of it might yet be rummaged out (but it woidd 
 not be worth the trouble) among the dingy pages of 
 fifteen-or-twenty-y ear-old periodicals, or within the 
 shabby morocco covers of faded souvenirs. The re 
 mainder of the works alluded to had a very brief ex 
 istence, but, on the score of brilliancy, enjoyed a fate 
 vastly superior to that of their brotherhood, which 
 succeeded in getting through the press. In a word, 
 the Author burned them without mercy or remorse, 
 and, moreover, without any subsequent regret, and had 
 more than one occasion to marvel that such very dull 
 stuff, as he knew his condemned manuscripts to be, 
 should yet have possessed inflammability enough to 
 set the chimney 011 fire ! 
 
 After a long while the first collected volume of the 
 " Tales " was published. By this time, if the Author 
 had ever been greatly tormented by literary ambition 
 (which he does not remember or believe to have been 
 the case), it must have perished, beyond resuscitation, 
 in the dearth of nutriment. This was fortunate ; for 
 the success of the volume was not such as would have 
 gratified a craving desire for notoriety. A moderate 
 
PREFACE. 15 
 
 edition was " got rid of " (to use the publisher s very 
 significant phrase) within a reasonable time, but ap 
 parently without rendering the writer or his produc 
 tions much more generally known than before. The 
 great bulk of the reading public probably ignored the 
 book altogether. A few persons read it, and liked it 
 better than it deserved. At an interval of three or 
 four years, the second volume was published, and en 
 countered much the same sort of kindly, but calm, 
 and very limited reception. The circulation of the 
 two volumes was chiefly confined to New England ; 
 nor was it until long after this period, if it even yet 
 be the case, that the Author could regard himself as 
 addressing the American public, or, indeed, any pub 
 lic at all. He was merely writing to his known or 
 unknown friends. 
 
 As he glances over these long-forgotten pages, and 
 considers his way of life while composing them, the 
 Author can very clearly discern why all this was so. 
 After so many sober years, he would have reason to 
 be ashamed if he could not criticise his own work as 
 fairly as another man s : and, though it is little his 
 business, and perhaps still less his interest, he can 
 hardly resist a temptation to achieve something of the 
 sort. If writers were allowed to do so, and would 
 perform the task with perfect sincerity and unreserve, 
 their opinions of their own productions would often 
 be more valuable and instructive than the works them 
 selves. 
 
 At all events, there can be no harm in the Author s 
 
16 PREFACE. 
 
 remarking that he rather wonders how the " Twice- 
 Told Tales " should have gained what vogue they did 
 than that it was so little and so gradual. They have 
 the pale tint of flowers that blossomed in too retired 
 a shade, the coolness of a meditative habit, which 
 diffuses itself through the feeling and observation of 
 every sketch. Instead of passion there is sentiment ; 
 and, even in what purport to be pictures of actual 
 life, we have allegory, not always so warmly dressed 
 in its habiliments of flesh and blood as to be taken 
 into the reader s mind without a shiver. Whether 
 from lack of power, or an unconquerable reserve, the 
 Author s touches have often an effect of tameness ; the 
 merriest man can hardly contrive to laugh at his 
 broadest humor; the tenderest woman, one would 
 suppose, will hardly shed warm tears at his deepest 
 pathos. The book, if you would see anything in it, 
 requires to be read in the clear, brown, twilight at 
 mosphere in which it was written ; i f opened in the 
 sunshine, it is apt to look exceedingly like a volume 
 of blank pages. 
 
 With the foregoing characteristics, proper to the 
 production of a person in retirement (which hap 
 pened to be the Author s category at the time), the 
 book is devoid of others that we should quite as nat 
 urally look for. The sketches are not, it is hardly 
 necessary to say, profound ; but it is rather more re 
 markable that they so seldom, if ever, show any design 
 on the writer s part to make them so. They have 
 none of the abstruseness of idea, or obscurity of ex- 
 
PREFACE. 17 
 
 pression, which mark the written communications of a 
 solitary mind with itself. They never need translation. 
 It is, in fact, the style of a man of society. Every 
 sentence, so far as it embodies thought or sensibility, 
 may be understood and felt by anybody who will 
 give himself the trouble to read it, and will take up 
 the book in a proper mood. 
 
 This statement of apparently opposite peculiarities 
 leads us to a perception of what the sketches truly are. 
 They are not the talk of a secluded man with his own 
 mind and heart (had it been so, they could hardly 
 have failed to be more deeply and permanently valua 
 ble), but his attempts, and very imperfectly successful 
 ones, to open an intercourse with the world. 
 
 The Author would regret to be understood as speak 
 ing sourly or querulously of the slight mark made by 
 his earlier literary efforts on the Public at large. It 
 /s so far the contrary, that he has been moved to write 
 this Preface chiefly as affording him an opportunity 
 to express how much enjoyment he has owed to these 
 volumes, both before and since their publication. They 
 are the memorials of very tranquil and not unhappy 
 years. They failed, it is true, nor could it have been 
 otherwise, in winning an extensive popularity. Oc 
 casionally, however, when he deemed them entirely 
 forgotten, a paragraph or an article, from a native or 
 foreign critic, would gratify his instincts of authorship 
 with unexpected praise, too generous praise, indeed, 
 and too little alloyed with censure, which, therefore, 
 he learned the better to inflict upon himself And, 
 
18 PREFACE. 
 
 by the by, it is a very suspicious symptom of a defi 
 ciency of the popular element in a book when it calls 
 forth no harsh criticism. This has been particularly 
 the fortune of the "TwiCE-ToLD TALES." They 
 made no enemies, and were so little known and talked 
 about that those who read, and chanced to like them, 
 were apt to conceive the sort of kindness for the book 
 which a person naturally feels for a discovery of his 
 own. 
 
 This kindly feeling (in some cases, at least) ex 
 tended to the Author, who, 011 the internal evidence of 
 his sketches, came to be regarded as a mild, shy, gen 
 tle, melancholic, exceedingly sensitive, and not very 
 forcible man, hiding his blushes under an assumed 
 name, the quaintness of which was supposed, some 
 how or other, to symbolize his personal and literary 
 traits. He is by no means certain that some of his 
 subsequent productions have not been influenced and 
 modified by a natural desire to fill up so amiable an 
 outline, and to act in consonance with the character 
 assigned to him; nor, even now, could he forfeit it 
 without a few tears of tender sensibility. To con 
 clude, however : these volumes have opened the way 
 to most agreeable associations, and to the formation of 
 imperishable friendships ; and there are many golden 
 threads interwoven with his present happiness, which 
 he can follow up more or less directly, until he finds 
 their commencement here ; so that his pleasant path 
 way among realities seems to proceed out of the 
 Dreamland of his youth, and to be bordered with just 
 
PREFACE. 10 
 
 enough of its shadowy foliage to shelter him from the 
 heat of the day. He is therefore satisfied with what 
 the " TwiCE-ToLD TALES " have done for hirr^ and 
 feels it to be far better than fame. 
 LENOX, January 11, 1851. 
 
TWICE-TOLD TALES. 
 
 THE GRAY CHAMPION. 
 
 THERE was once a time when Xew England groaned 
 under the actual pressure of heavier wrongs than those 
 threatened ones which brought on the Revolution. 
 James II., the bigoted successor of Charles the Vo 
 luptuous, had annulled the charters of all the colonies, 
 and sent a harsh and unprincipled soldier to take away 
 our liberties and endanger our religion. The admin 
 istration of Sir Edmund Andros lacked scarcely a 
 single characteristic of tyranny : a Governor and 
 Council, holding office from the King, and wholly in 
 dependent of the country ; laws made and taxes lev 
 ied without concurrence of the people immediate or 
 by their representatives ; the rights of private citizens 
 violated, and the titles of all landed property declared 
 void ; the voice of complaint stifled by restrictions on 
 the press ; and, finally, disaffection overawed by the 
 first band of mercenary troops that ever marched on 
 our free soil. For two years our ancestors were kept 
 in sullen submission by that filial love which had in 
 variably secured their allegiance to the mother coun 
 try, whether its head chanced to be a Parliament, Pro 
 tector, or Popish Monapcli. Till these evil times, 
 however, such allegiance had been merely nominal, 
 and the colonists had ruled themselves, enjoying far 
 
22 TWICE-TOLD TALES. 
 
 more freedom than is even yet the privilege of the 
 native subjects of Great Britain. 
 
 At length a rumor reached our shores that the 
 Prince of Orange had ventured on an enterprise, the 
 success of which would be the triumph of civil and 
 religious rights and the salvation of New England. 
 It was but a doubtful whisper ; it might be false, or 
 the attempt might fail ; and, in either case, the man 
 that stirred against King James would lose his head. 
 Still the intelligence produced a marked effect. The 
 people smiled mysteriously in the streets, and threw 
 bold glances at their oppressors ; while far and wide 
 there was a subdued and silent agitation, as if the 
 slightest signal would rouse the whole land from its 
 sluggish despondency. Aware of their danger, the 
 rulers resolved to avert it by an imposing display of 
 strength, and perhaps to confirm their despotism by yet 
 harsher measures. One afternoon in April, 1689, Sir 
 Edmund Andros and his favorite councillors, being 
 warm with wine, assembled the red-coats of the Gov 
 ernor s Guard, and made their appearance in the 
 streets of Boston. The sun was near setting when 
 the march commenced. 
 
 The roll of the drum at that unquiet crisis seemed 
 to go through the streets, less as the martial music of 
 the soldiers, than as a muster-call to the inhabitants 
 themselves. A multitude, by various avenues, assem 
 bled in King Street, which was destined to be the 
 scene, nearly a century afterwards, of another en 
 counter between the troops of Britain, and a people 
 struggling against her tyranny. Though more than 
 sixty years had elapsed since the pilgrims came, this 
 crowd of their descendants still showed the strong and 
 sombre features of their character perhaps more strik- 
 
THE GRAY CHAMPION. 23 
 
 ingly in such a stern emergency than on happier oc 
 casions. There were the sober garb, the general sever 
 ity of mien, the gloomy but undismayed expression, 
 the scriptural forms of speech, and the confidence in 
 Heaven s blessing on a righteous cause, which would 
 have marked a band of the original Puritans, when 
 threatened by some peril of the wilderness. Indeed, 
 it was not yet time for the old spirit to be extinct ; 
 since there were men in the street that day who had 
 worshipped there beneath the trees, before a house 
 was reared to the God for whom they had become 
 exiles. Old soldiers of the Parliament were here, 
 too, smiling grimly at the thought that their aged 
 arms might strike another blow against the house of 
 Stuart. Here, also, were the veterans of King Phil 
 ip s war, who had burned villages and slaughtered 
 young and old, with pious fierceness, while the godly 
 souls throughout the land were helping them with 
 prayer. Several ministers were scattered among the 
 crowd, which, unlike all other mobs, regarded them 
 with such reverence, as if there were sanctity in their 
 very garments. These holy men exerted their influ 
 ence to quiet the people, but not to disperse them. 
 Meantime, the purpose of the Governor, in disturbing 
 the peace of the town at a period when the slightest 
 commotion might throw the country into a ferment, 
 was almost the universal subject of inquiry, and vari 
 ously explained. 
 
 " Satan will strike his master-stroke presently," 
 cried some, " because he knoweth that his time is 
 short. All our godly pastors are to be dragged to 
 prison ! We shall see them at a Smithfield fire in 
 King Street ! " 
 
 Hereupon the people of each parish gathered closei 
 
24 TWICE-TOLD TALES. 
 
 round their minister, who looked calmly upwards and 
 assumed a more apostolic dignity, as well befitted a 
 candidate for the highest honor of his profession, the 
 crown of martyrdom. It was actually fancied, at that 
 period, that New England might have a John Rogers 
 of her own to take the place of that worthy in the 
 Primer. 
 
 " The Pope of Rome has given orders for a new 
 St. Bartholomew ! " cried others. " We are to be 
 massacred, man and male child ! " 
 
 Neither was this rumor wholly discredited, although 
 the wiser class believed the Governor s object some 
 what less atrocious. His predecessor under the old 
 charter, Bradstreet, a venerable companion of the first 
 settlers, was known to be in town. There were 
 grounds for conjecturing, that Sir Edmund Andros 
 intended at once to strike terror by a parade of mili 
 tary force, and to confound the opposite faction by 
 possessing himself of their chief. 
 
 " Stand firm for the old charter Governor ! " shouted 
 the crowd, seizing upon the idea. " The good old 
 Governor Bradstreet ! " 
 
 While this cry was at the loudest, the people were 
 surprised by the well-known figure of Governor Brad- 
 street himself, a patriarch of nearly ninety, who ap 
 peared on the elevated steps of a door, and, with char 
 acteristic mildness, besought them to submit to the 
 constituted authorities. 
 
 " My children," concluded this venerable person, 
 " do nothing rashly. Cry not aloud, but pray for the 
 welfare of New England, and expect patiently what 
 the Lord will do in this matter ! " 
 
 The event was soon to be decided. All this time, 
 the roll of the drum had been approaching through 
 
THE GRAY CHAMPION. 25 
 
 Cornhill, louder and deeper, till with reverberations 
 from house to house, and the regular tramp of martial 
 footsteps, it burst into the street. A double rank of 
 soldiers made their appearance, occupying the whole 
 breadth of the passage, with shouldered matchlocks, 
 and matches burning, so as to present a row of fires 
 in the dusk. Their steady march was like the prog 
 ress of a machine, that would roll irresistibly over 
 everything in its way. Next, moving slowly, with a 
 confused clatter of hoofs on the pavement, rode a party 
 of mounted gentlemen, the central figure being Sir 
 Edmund Andros, elderly, but erect and soldier-like. 
 Those around him were his favorite councillors, and 
 the bitterest foes of New England. At his right hand 
 rode Edward Randolph, our arch-enemy, that " blasted 
 wretch,* as Cotton Mather calls him, who achieved 
 the downfall of our ancient government, and was fol 
 lowed with a sensible curse, through life and to his 
 grave. On the other side was Bullivant, scattering 
 jests and mockery as he rode along. Dudley came 
 behind, with a downcast look, dreading, as well he 
 might, to meet the indignant gaze of the people, who 
 beheld him, their only countryman by birth, among 
 the oppressors of his native land. The captain of a 
 frigate in the harbor, and two or three civil officers 
 under the Crown, were also there. But the figure 
 which most attracted the public eye, and stirred up 
 the deepest feeling, was the Episcopal clergyman of 
 King s Chapel, riding haughtily among the magis 
 trates in his priestly vestments, the fitting representa 
 tive of prelacy and persecution, the union of church 
 and state, and all those abominations which had driven 
 the Puritans to the wilderness. Another guard of 
 soldiers, in double rank, brought up the rear. 
 
26 TWICE-TOLD TALES. 
 
 The whole scene was a picture of the condition of 
 New England, and its moral, the deformity of any 
 government that does not grow out of the nature of 
 things and the character of the people. On one side 
 the religious multitude, with their sad visages and dark 
 attire, and on the other, the group of despotic rulers, 
 with the high churchman in the midst, and here and 
 there a crucifix at their bosoms, all magnificently clad, 
 flushed with wine, proud of unjust authority, and 
 scoffing at the universal groan. And the mercenary 
 soldiers, waiting but the word to deluge the street with 
 blood, showed the only means by which obedience 
 could be secured. 
 
 " Lord of Hosts," cried a voice among the crowd, 
 " provide a Champion for thy people ! " 
 
 This ejaculation was loudly uttered, and served as 
 a herald s cry, to introduce a remarkable personage. 
 The crowd had rolled back, and were now huddled 
 together nearly at the extremity of the street, while 
 the soldiers had advanced no more than a third of its 
 length. The intervening space was empty a paved 
 solitude, between lofty edifices, which threw almost a 
 twilight shadow over it. Suddenly, there was seen 
 the figure of an ancient man, who seemed to have 
 emerged from among the people, and was walking by 
 himself along the centre of the street, to confront the 
 armed band. He wore the old Puritan dress, a dark 
 cloak and a steeple-crowned hat, in the fashion of at 
 least fifty years before, with a heavy sword upon his 
 thigh, but a staff in his hand to assist the tremulous 
 gait of age. 
 
 When at some distance from the multitude, the old 
 man turned slowly round, displaying a face of antique 
 majesty, rendered doubly venerable by the hoary beard 
 
THE GRAY CHAMPION. 27 
 
 that descended on his breast. He made a gesture at 
 once of encouragement and warning, then turned 
 again, and resumed his way. 
 
 "Who is this gray patriarch?" asked the young 
 men of their sires. 
 
 " Who is this venerable brother?" asked the old 
 men among themselves. 
 
 But none could make reply. The fathers of the 
 people, those of fourscore years and upwards, were 
 disturbed, deeming it strange that they should forget 
 one of such evident authority, whom they must have 
 known in their early days, the associate of Winthrop, 
 and all the old councillors, giving laws, and making 
 prayers, and leading them against the savage. The 
 elderly men ought to have remembered him, too, with 
 locks as gray in their youth, as their own were now. 
 And the young ! How could he have passed so ut 
 terly from their memories that hoary sire, the relic 
 of long-departed times, whose awful benediction had 
 surely been bestowed on their uncovered heads, in 
 childhood ? 
 
 " Whence did he come ? What is his purpose ? 
 Who can this old man be ? " whispered the wondering 
 crowd. 
 
 Meanwhile, the venerable stranger, staff in hand, 
 was pursuing his solitary walk along the centre of the 
 street. As he drew near the advancing soldiers, and 
 as the roll of their drum came full upon his ear, the 
 old man raised himself to a loftier mien, while the 
 decrepitude of age seemed to fall from his shoulders, 
 leaving him in gray but unbroken dignity. Xow, he 
 marched onward with a warrior s step, keeping time 
 to the military music. Thus the aged form advanced 
 on one side, and the whole parade of soldiers and 
 
28 TWICE-TOLD TALES. 
 
 magistrates on the other, till, when scarcely twenty 
 yards remained between, the old man grasped his staff 
 by the middfe, and held it before him like a leader s 
 truncheon. 
 
 " Stand ! " cried he. 
 
 The eye, the face, and attitude of command; the 
 solemn, yet warlike peal of that voice, fit either to 
 rule a host in the battle-field or be raised to God in 
 prayer, were irresistible. At the old man s word and 
 outstretched arm, the roll of the drum was hushed at 
 once, and the advancing line stood still. A tremulous 
 enthusiasm seized upon tho multitude. That stately 
 form, combining the leader and the saint, so grav. so 
 dimly seen, in such an ancient garb, could only be 
 long to some ol d champion of the righteous cause, 
 whom the oppressor s drum had summoned from his 
 grave. They raised a shout of awe and exultation, 
 and looked for the deliverance of New England. 
 
 The Governor, and the gentlemen of his party, per 
 ceiving themselves brought to an unexpected stand, 
 rode hastily forward, as if they would have pressed 
 their snorting and affrighted horses right against the 
 hoary apparition. He, however, blenched not a step, 
 but glancing his severe eye round the group, which 
 half encompassed him, at last bent it sternly on Sir 
 Edmund Andros. One would have thought that the 
 dark old man was chief ruler there, and that the Gov 
 ernor and Council, with soldiers at their back, repre 
 senting the whole power and authority of the Crown, 
 had no alternative but obedience. 
 
 " What does this old fellow here ? " cried Edward 
 Randolph, fiercely. " On, Sir Edmund ! Bid the sol 
 diers forward, and give the dotard the same choice 
 that you give all his countrymen to stand aside or 
 be trampled on 1 " 
 
THE GRAY CHAMPION. 29 
 
 " Nay, nay, let us show respect to the good grand- 
 sire," said Bullivant, laughing. " See you not, he is 
 some old round-headed dignitary, who hath lain asleep 
 these thirty years, and knows nothing of the change of 
 times ? Doubtless, he thinks to put us down with a 
 proclamation in Old Noll s name ! " 
 
 44 Are you mad, old man ? " demanded Sir Edmund 
 Andros, in loud and harsh tones. " How dare you 
 stay the march of King James s Governor ? " 
 
 44 1 have stayed the march of a King himself, ere 
 now," replied the gray figure, with stern composure. 
 44 1 am here, Sir Governor, because the cry of an op 
 pressed people hath disturbed me in my secret place ; 
 and beseeching this favor earnestly of the Lord, it was 
 vouchsafed me to appear once again on earth, in the 
 good old cause of his saints. And what speak ye of 
 James? There is no longer a Popish tyrant on the 
 throne of England, and by to-morrow noon, his namo 
 shall be a byword in this very street, where ye woidd 
 make it a word of terror. Back, thou that wast a Gov 
 ernor, back ! With this night thy power is ended 
 to-morrow, the prison ! back, lest I foretell the scaf 
 fold ! " 
 
 The people had been drawing nearer and nearer, 
 and drinking in the words of their champion, who 
 spoke in accents long disused, like one unaccustomed 
 to converse, except with the dead of many years ago. 
 But his voice stirred their souls. They confronted the 
 soldiers, not wholly without arms, and ready to con 
 vert the very stones of the street into deadly weapons. 
 Sir Edmund Andros looked at the old man ; then he 
 cast his hard and cruel eve over the multitude, and 
 beheld them burning with that lurid wrath, so difficult 
 to kindle or to quench ; and again he fixed his gaze uu 
 
80 TWICE-TOLD TALES. 
 
 the aged form, which stood obscurely in an open space, 
 where neither friend nor foe had thrust himself. What 
 were his thoughts, he uttered no word which might 
 discover. But whether the oppressor were overawed 
 by the Gray Champion s look, or perceived his peril 
 in the threatening attitude of the people, it is certain 
 that he gave back, and ordered his soldiers to com 
 mence a slow and guarded retreat. Before another 
 sunset, the Governor, and all that rode so proudly with 
 him, were prisoners, and long ere it was known that 
 James had abdicated, King William was proclaimed 
 throughout New England. 
 
 But where was the Gray Champion? Some re 
 ported that, when the troops had gone from King 
 Street, and the people were thronging tumultuously in 
 their rear, Bradstreet, the aged Governor, was seen 
 to embrace a form more aged than his own. Others 
 soberly affirmed, that while they marvelled at the ven 
 erable grandeur of his aspect, the old man had faded 
 from their eyes, melting slowly into the hues of twi 
 light, till, where he stood, there was an empty space. 
 But all agreed that the hoary shape was gone. The 
 men of that generation watched for his reappearance, 
 in sunshine and in twilight, but never saw him more, 
 nor knew when his funeral passed, nor where his 
 gravestone was. 
 
 And who was the Gray Champion? Perhaps his 
 name might be found in the records of that stern 
 Court of Justice, which passed a sentence, too mighty 
 for the age, but glorious in all after-times, for its hum 
 bling lesson to the monarch and its high example to 
 the subject. I have heard, that whenever the descend 
 ants of the Puritans are to show the spirit of their 
 dres, the old man appears again. When eighty years 
 
THE GRAY CHAMPION. 31 
 
 had passed, he walked once more in King Street. Five 
 years later, in the twilight of an April morning, he 
 stood on the green, beside the meeting-house, at Lex 
 ington, where now the obelisk of granite, with a slab 
 of slate inlaid, commemorates the first fallen of the 
 Revolution. And when our fathers were toiling at 
 the breastwork on Bunker s Hill, all through that 
 night the old warrior walked his rounds. Long, long 
 may it be, ere he comes again ! His hour is one of 
 darkness, and adversity, and peril. But should do 
 mestic tyranny oppress us, or the invader s step pollute 
 our soil, still may the Gray Champion come, for he 
 is the type of New England s hereditary spirit ; and 
 his shadowy march, on the eve of danger, must ever 
 be the pledge, that New England s sous will vindicate 
 their ancestry. 
 
SUNDAY AT HOME. 
 
 EVERY Sabbath morning in the summer time, I 
 thrust back the curtain, to watch the sunrise stealing 
 down a steeple which stands opposite my chamber 
 window. First, the weather-cock begins to flash ; then, 
 a fainter lustre gives the spire an airy aspect ; next, it 
 encroaches on the tower, and causes the index of the 
 dial to glisten like gold as it points to the gilded figure 
 of the hour. Now, the loftiest window gleams, and 
 now the lower. The carved frame-work of the portal 
 is marked strongly out. At length, the morning glory, 
 in its descent from heaven, comes down the stone 
 steps, one by one ; and there stands the steeple, glow 
 ing with fresh radiance, while the shades of twilight 
 still hide themselves among the nooks of the adjacent 
 buildings. Methinks, though the same sun brightens 
 it every fair morning, yet the steeple has a peculiar 
 robe of brightness for the Sabbath. 
 
 By dwelling near a church, a person soon contracts 
 an attachment for the edifice. We naturally personify 
 it, and conceive its massy walls, and its dim emptiness, 
 to be instinct with a calm, and meditative, and some 
 what melancholy spirit. But the steeple stands fore 
 most, in our thoughts, as well as locally. It impresses 
 us as a giant, with a mind comprehensive and discrimi 
 nating enough to care for the great and small concerns 
 of all the town. Hourly, while it speaks a moral to 
 the few that think, it reminds thousands of busy indi 
 viduals of their separate and most secret affairs. It 
 
SUNDAY AT HOME. 33 
 
 is the steeple, too, that flings abroad the hurried and 
 irregular accents of general alarm ; neither have glad 
 ness and festivity found a better utterance than by its 
 tongue ; and when the dead are slowly passing to their 
 home, the steeple has a melancholy voice to bid them 
 welcome. Yet, in spite of this connection with human 
 interests, what a moral loneliness, on week days, broods 
 round about its stately height ! It has no kindred with 
 the houses above which it towers ; it looks down into 
 the narrow thoroughfare, the lonelier, because the 
 crowd are elbowing their passage at its base. A 
 glance at the body of the church deepens this impres 
 sion. Within, by the light of distant windows, amid 
 refracted shadows, we discern the vacant pews and 
 empty galleries, the silent organ, the voiceless pulpit, 
 and the clock, which tells to solitude how time is pass 
 ing. Time where man lives not what is it but 
 eternity? And in the church, we might suppose, are 
 garnered up, throughout the week, all thoughts and 
 feelings that have reference to eternity, until the holy 
 day comes round again, to let them forth. Might not, 
 then, its more appropriate site be in the outskirts of 
 the town, with space for old trees to wave around it, 
 and throw their solemn shadows over a quiet green ? 
 Wo will say more of this, hereafter. 
 
 But, on the Sabbath, I watch the earliest sun 
 shine, and fancv that a holier brightness marks the 
 day, when there shall be no buzz of voices on the ex 
 change, nor traffic in the shops, nor crowd, nor busi 
 ness, anywhere but at church. Many have fancied so. 
 For my own part, whether I see it scattered down 
 among tangled woods, or beaming broad across the 
 fields, or hemmed in between brick buildings, or trac 
 ing out the figure of the casement on my chamber 
 
 VOL. I. 3 
 
84 TWICE-TOLD TALES. 
 
 floor, still I recognize the Sabbath sunshine. And 
 ever let me recognize it! Some illusions, and this 
 among them, are the shadows of great truths. Doubts 
 may flit around me, or seem to close their evil wings, 
 and settle down ; but, so long as I imagine that the 
 earth is hallowed, and the light of heaven retains its 
 sanctity, on the Sabbath while that blessed sunshine 
 lives within me never can my soul have lost the in 
 stinct of its faith. If it have gone astray, it will re 
 turn again. 
 
 I love to spend such pleasant Sabbaths, from morn 
 ing till night, behind the curtain of my open window. 
 Are they spent amiss ? Every spot, so near the church 
 as to be visited by the circling shadow of the steeple, 
 should be deemed consecrated ground, to-day. With 
 stronger truth be it said, that a devout heart may con 
 secrate a den of thieves, as an evil one may convert a 
 temple to the same. My heart, perhaps, has not such 
 holy, nor, I would fain trust, such impious potency. 
 It must suffice, that, though my form be absent, my 
 inner man goes constantly to church, while many, 
 whose bodily presence fills the accustomed seats, have 
 left their souls at home. But I am there, even before 
 my friend, the sexton. At length, he comes a man 
 of kindly, but sombre aspect, in dark gray clothes, and 
 hair of the same mixture he comes and applies his 
 key to the wide portal. Now, my thoughts may go in 
 among the dusty pews, or ascend the pulpit, without 
 sacrilege, but soon come forth again to enjoy the music 
 of the bell. How glad, yet solemn too ! All the stee 
 ples in town are talking together, aloft in the sunny 
 air, and rejoicing among themselves, while their spires 
 point heavenward. Meantime, here are the children 
 assembling to the Sabbath-school, which is kept some. 
 
SUNDAY AT HOME. 85 
 
 where within the church. Often, while looking at the 
 arched portal, I have been gladdened by the sight of a 
 score of these little girls and boys, in pink, blue, yel 
 low, and crimson frocks, bursting suddenly forth into 
 the sunshine, like a swarm of gay butterflies that had 
 been shut up in the solemn gloom. Or I might com 
 pare them to cherubs, haunting that holy place. 
 
 About a quarter of an hour before the second ring 
 ing of the bell, individuals of the congregation begin 
 to appear. The earliest is invariably an old woman 
 in black, whose bent frame and rounded shoulders are 
 evidently laden with some heavy affliction, which she is 
 eager to rest upon the altar. AVould that the Sabbath 
 came twice as often, for the sake of that sorrowful old 
 soul ! There is an elderly man, also, who arrives in 
 good season, and leans against the corner of the tower, 
 just within the line of its shadow, looking downward 
 with a darksome brow. I sometimes fancy that the 
 old woman is the happier of the two. After these, 
 others drop in singly, and by twos and threes, either 
 disappearing through the doorway, or taking their 
 stand in its vicinity. At last, and always with an un 
 expected sensation, the bell turns in the steeple over 
 head, and throws out an irregular clangor, jarring the 
 tower to its foundation. As if there were magic in 
 the sound, the sidewalks of the street, both up and 
 down along, are immediately thronged with two long 
 lines of people, all converging hitherward, and stream 
 ing into the church. Perhaps the far-off roar of a 
 coach draws nearer a deeper thunder by its contrast 
 with the surrounding stillness until it sets down the 
 wealthy worshippers at the portal, among their hum 
 blest brethren. Beyond that entrance, in theory at 
 least, there are no distinctions of earthly rank ; nor, 
 
86 TWICE-TOLD TALES. 
 
 indeed, by the goodly apparel which is flaunting in 
 the sun, would there seem to be such, on the hither 
 side. Those pretty girls ! Why will they disturb my 
 pious meditations! Of all days in the week, they 
 should strive to look least fascinating on the Sabbath, 
 instead of heightening their mortal loveliness, as if to 
 rival the blessed angels, and keep our thoughts from 
 heaven. Were I the minister himself, I must needs 
 look. One girl is white muslin from the waist up 
 wards, and black silk downwards to her slippers ; a 
 second blushes from topknot to shoetie, one universal 
 scarlet ; another shines of a pervading yellow, as if 
 she had made a garment of the sunshine. The greater 
 part, however, have adopted a milder cheerfulness of 
 hue. Their veils, especially when the wind raises them, 
 give a lightness to the general effect, and make them 
 appear like airy phantoms, as they flit up the steps, 
 and vanish into the sombre doorway. Nearly all 
 though it is very strange that I should know it wear 
 white stockings, white as snow, and neat slippers, 
 laced crosswise with black ribbon, pretty high above 
 the ankles. A white stocking is infinitely more effec 
 tive than a black one. 
 
 Here comes the clergyman, slow and solemn, in se 
 vere simplicity, needing no black silk gown to denote 
 his office. His aspect claims my reverence, but cannot 
 win my love. Were I to picture Saint Peter keeping 
 fast the gate of heaven, and frowning, more stern than 
 pitiful, on the wretched applicants, that face should be 
 my study. By middle age, or sooner, the creed has 
 generally wrought upon the heart, or been attempered 
 by it. As the minister passes into the church the bell 
 holds its iron tongue, and all the low murmur of the 
 congregation dies away. The gray sexton looks up and 
 
SUNDAY AT HOME. 87 
 
 down the street, and then at my window curtain, 
 where, through the small peephole, I half fancy that 
 he has caught my eye. Xow every loiterer has gone 
 in, and the street lies asleep in the quiet sun, while a 
 feeling of loneliness comes over me, and brings also 
 an uneasy sense of neglected privileges and duties. 
 O, I ought to have gone to church ! The bustle of the 
 rising congregation reaches my ears. They are stand 
 ing up to pray. Coidd I bring my heart into unison 
 with those who are praying in yonder church, and lift 
 it heavenward, with a fervor of supplication, but no 
 distinct request, would not that be the safest kind of 
 prayer ? " Lord, look down upon me in mercy ! " 
 With that sentiment gushing from my soul, might I 
 not leave all the rest to Him ? 
 
 Hark! the hymn. This, at least, is a portion of 
 the service which I can enjoy better than if I sat 
 within the walls, where the full choir and the massive 
 melody of the organ would fall with a weight upon 
 me. At this distance it thrills through my frame and 
 plays upon my heartstrings with a pleasure both of 
 the sense and spirit. Heaven be praised, I know 
 nothing of music as a science ; and the most elaborate 
 harmonies, if they please me, please as simply as a 
 nurse s lullaby. The strain has ceased, but prolongs 
 itself in my mind with fanciful echoes till I start from 
 my reverie, and find that the sermon has commenced. 
 It is my misfortune seldom to fructify, in a regular 
 way, by any but printed sermons. The first strong 
 idea which the preacher utters gives birth to a train 
 of thought, and leads me onward, step by step, quite 
 out of hearing of the good man s voice, unless he be 
 indeed a son of thunder. At my open window, catch 
 ing now and then a sentence of the " parson s saw, 
 
38 TWICE-TOLD TALES. 
 
 I am as well situated as at the foot of the pulpit 
 stairs. The broken and scattered fragments of this 
 one discourse will be the texts of many sermons, 
 preached by those colleague pastors colleagues, 
 but often disputants my Mind and Heart. The 
 former pretends to be a scholar, and perplexes me 
 with doctrinal points ; the latter takes me on the score 
 of feeling; and both, like several other preachers, 
 spend their strength to very little purpose. I, their 
 sole auditor, cannot always understand them. 
 
 Suppose that a few hours have passed, and behold 
 me still behind my curtain, just before the close of 
 the afternoon service. The hour hand on the dial has 
 passed beyond four o clock. The declining sun is hid 
 den behind the steeple, and throws its shadow straight 
 across the street, so that my chamber is darkened as 
 with a cloud. Around the church-door all is solitude, 
 and an impenetrable obscurity beyond the thresh 
 old. A commotion is heard. The seats are slammed 
 down, and the pew-doors thrown back a multitude 
 of feet are trampling along the unseen aisles and 
 the congregation bursts suddenly through the portal. 
 Foremost, scampers a rabble of boys, behind whom 
 moves a dense and dark phalanx of grown men, and 
 lastly, a crowd of females, with young children, and a 
 few scattered husbands. This instantaneous outbreak 
 of life into loneliness is one of the pleasantest scenes 
 of the day. Some of the good people are rubbing 
 their eyes, thereby intimating that they have been 
 wrapped, as it were, in a sort of holy trance by the 
 fervor of their devotion. There is a young man, a 
 third rate coxcomb, whose first care is always to flour 
 ish a white handkerchief, and brush the seat of a tigkt 
 pair of black silk pantaloons, which shine as if var 
 
SUNDAY AT HOME. 39 
 
 aishecl. They must have been made of the stuff called 
 " everlasting," or perhaps of the same piece as Chris 
 tian s garments in the * Pilgrim s Progress, for he 
 put them on two summers ago, and has not yet worn 
 the gloss off. I have taken a great liking to those 
 black silk pantaloons. But now, with nods and greet 
 ings among friends, each matron takes her husband s 
 arm and paces gravely homeward, while the girls also 
 flutter away after arranging sunset walks with their 
 favored bachelors. The Sabbath eve is the eve of love. 
 At length the whole congregation is dispersed. Xo ; 
 here, with faces as glossy as black satin, come two 
 sable ladies and a sable gentleman, and close in their 
 rear the minister, who softens his severe visasre, and 
 
 O 
 
 bestows a kind word on each. Poor souls ! To them 
 the most captivating picture of bliss in heaven is 
 44 There we shall be white ! " 
 
 All is solitude again. But, hark ! a broken warb 
 ling of voices, and now. attuning its grandeur to their 
 sweetness, a stately peal of the organ. Who are the 
 choristers ? Let me dream that the angels, who came 
 down from heaven, this blessed mom, to blend them 
 selves with the worship of the truly good, are playing 
 and singing their farewell to the earth. On the wings 
 of that rich melody they were borne upward. 
 
 This, gentle reader, is merely a flight of poetry. 
 A few of the singing men and singing women had 
 lingered behind their fellows, and raised their voices 
 fitfully, and blew a careless note upon the organ. 
 Yet, it lifted my soul higher than all their former 
 strains. They are gone the sons and daughters of 
 music and the gray sexton is just closing the portaL 
 For six days more, there will be no face of man in 
 the pews, and aisles, and galleries, nor a voice in the 
 
40 TWICE-TOLD TALES. 
 
 pulpit, nor music in the choir. Was it worth while 
 to rear this massive edifice, to be a desert in the heart 
 of the town, and populous only for a few hours of 
 each seventh day ? O, but the church is a symbol of 
 religion. May its site, which was consecrated on the 
 day when the first tree was felled, be kept holy for 
 ever, a spot of solitude and peace, amid the trouble 
 and vanity of our week-day world ! There is a moral, 
 and a religion too, even in the silent walls. And may 
 the steeple still point heavenward, and be decked with 
 the hallowed sunshine of the Sabbath morn ! 
 
THE WEDDING KNELL. 
 
 THERE is a certain church in the city of New York 
 which I have always regarded with peculiar interest, 
 on account of a marriage there solemnized, under very 
 singular circumstances, in my grandmother s girlhood. 
 That venerable lady chanced to be a spectator of the 
 scene, and ever after made it her favorite narrative. 
 Whether the edifice now standing on the same site be 
 the identical one to which she referred, I am not anti 
 quarian enough to know ; nor would it be worth while 
 to correct myself, perhaps, of an agreeable error, by 
 reading the date of its erection on the tablet over the 
 door. It is a stately church, surrounded by an in- 
 closure of the loveliest green, within which appear 
 urns, pillars, obelisks, and other forms of monumental 
 marble, the tributes of private affection, or more splen 
 did memorials of historic dust. With such a place, 
 though the tumult of the city rolls beneath its tower, 
 one would be willing to connect some legendary in 
 terest. 
 
 The marriage might be considered as the result of 
 an early engagement, though there had been two in 
 termediate weddings on the lady s part, and forty 
 years of celibacy on that of the gentleman. At sixty- 
 five, Mr. Ellenwood was a shy, but not quite a se 
 cluded man ; selfish, like all men who brood over their 
 own hearts, yet manifesting on rare occasions a vein 
 of generous sentiment ; a scholar throughout life, 
 though always an indolent one, because his studies 
 
42 TWICE-TOLD TALES. 
 
 had no definite object, either of public advantage or 
 personal ambition ; a gentleman, high bred and fas 
 tidiously delicate, yet sometimes requiring a considera 
 ble relaxation, in his behalf, of the common rules of 
 society. In truth, there were so many anomalies in 
 his character, and though shrinking with diseased sen 
 sibility from public notice, it had been his fatality so 
 often to become the topic of the day, by some wild ec 
 centricity of conduct, that people searched his lineage 
 for an hereditary taint of insanity. But there was no 
 need of this. His caprices had their origin in a mind 
 that lacked the support of an engrossing purpose, and 
 in feelings that preyed upon themselves for want of 
 other food. If he were mad, it was the consequence, 
 and not the cause, of an aimless and abortive life. 
 
 The widow was as complete a contrast to her third 
 bridegroom, in everything but age, as can well be con 
 ceived. Compelled to relinquish her first engagement, 
 she had been united to a man of twice her own years, 
 to whom she became an exemplary wife, and by whose 
 death she was left in possession of a splendid fortune. 
 A southern gentleman, considerably younger than her 
 self, succeeded to her hand, and carried her to Charles 
 ton, where, after many uncomfortable years, she found 
 herself again a widow. It would have been singular, 
 if any uncommon delicacy of feeling had survived 
 through such a life as Mrs. Dabney s ; it could not 
 but be crushed and killed by her early disappointment, 
 the cold duty of her first marriage, the dislocation of 
 the heart s principles, consequent on a second union, 
 and the unkindness of her southern husband, which 
 had inevitably driven her to connect the idea of his 
 death with that of her comfort. To be brief, she was 
 that wisest, but imloveliest, variety of woman, a phi- 
 
THE WEDDING KNELL. 43 
 
 iosopher, bearing troubles of the heart with equanimity, 
 dispensing with all that should have been her happi 
 ness, and making the best of what remained. Sage in 
 most matters, the widow was perhaps the more amia 
 ble for the one frailty that made her ridiculous. Be 
 ing childless, she could not remain beautiful by proxy, 
 in the person of a daughter ; she therefore refused to 
 grow old and ugly, on any consideration ; she strug 
 gled with Time, and held fast her roses in spite of 
 him, till the venerable thief appeared to have relin 
 quished the spoil, as not worth the trouble of acquir 
 ing it. 
 
 The approaching marriage of this woman of the 
 world with such an unworldly man as Mr. Ellenwood 
 was announced soon after Mrs. Dabney s return to 
 her native city. Superficial observers, and deeper 
 ones, seemed to concur in supposing that the lady 
 must have borne no inactive part in arranging the 
 affair ; there were considerations of expediency which 
 she would be far more likely to appreciate than Mr. 
 Ellenwood; and there was just the specious phantom 
 of sentiment and romance in this late union of two 
 early lovers which sometimes makes a fool of a woman 
 who has lost her true feelings among the accidents of 
 life. All the wonder was, how the gentleman, with 
 his lack of worldly wisdom and agonizing conscious 
 ness of ridicule, could have been induced to take a 
 measure at once so prudent and so laughable . But 
 while people talked the wedding-day arrived. The 
 ceremony was to be solemnized according to the Epis 
 copalian forms, and in open church, with a degree of 
 publicity that attracted many spectators, who occupied 
 the front seats of the galleries, and the pews near the 
 altar and along- the broad aisle. It had been arranged, 
 
44 TWICE-TOLD TALES. 
 
 or possibly it was the custom of the day, that the par 
 ties should proceed separately to church. By some 
 accident the bridegroom was a little less punctual than 
 the widow and her bridal attendants ; with whose ar 
 rival, after this tedious, but necessary preface, the 
 action of our tale may be said to commence. 
 
 The clumsy wheels of several old-fashioned coaches 
 were heard, and the gentlemen and ladies composing 
 the bridal party came through the church door with 
 the sudden and gladsome effect of a burst of sunshine. 
 The whole group, except the principal figure, was 
 made up of youth and gayety. As they streamed up 
 the broad aisle, while the pews and pillars seemed to 
 brighten on either side, their steps were as buoyant as 
 if they mistook the church for a ball-room, and were 
 ready to dance hand in hand to the altar. So brilliant 
 was the spectacle that few took notice of a singular 
 phenomenon that had marked its entrance. At the 
 moment when the bride s foot touched the threshold 
 the bell swung heavily in the tower above her, and 
 sent forth its deepest knell. The vibrations died away 
 and returned with prolonged solemnity, as she entered 
 the body of the church. 
 
 "Good heavens ! what an omen," whispered a young 
 lady to her lover. 
 
 " On my honor," replied the gentleman, " I believe 
 the bell has the good taste to toll of its own accord. 
 What has she to do with weddings? If you, dearest 
 Julia, were approaching the altar the bell would ring 
 out its merriest peal. It has only a funeral knell for 
 her." 
 
 The bride and most of her company had been too 
 much occupied with the bustle of entrance to hear the 
 first boding stroke of the bell, or at least to reflect on 
 
THE WEDDING KNELL. 45 
 
 the singularity of such a welcome to the altar. They 
 therefore continued to advance with undiniinished 
 gayety. The gorgeous dresses of the time, the crim 
 son velvet coats, the gold-laced hats, the hoop petti 
 coats, the silk, satin, brocade, and embroidery, the 
 buckles, canes, and swords, all displayed to the best 
 advantage on persons suited to such finery, made the 
 group appear more like a bright-colored picture than 
 anything real. But by what perversity of taste had 
 the artist represented his principal figure as so wrin 
 kled and decayed, while yet he had decked her out in 
 the brightest splendor of attire, as if the loveliest 
 maiden had suddenly withered into age, and become a 
 moral to the beautiful around her ! On they went, 
 however, and had glittered along about a third of the 
 aisle, when another stroke of the bell seemed to fill 
 the church with a visible gloom, dimming and obscur 
 ing the bright pageant, till it shone forth again as 
 from a mist. 
 
 This time the party wavered, stopped, and huddled 
 closer together, while a slight scream was heard from 
 some of the ladies, and a confused whispering among 
 the gentlemen. Thus tossing to and fro, they might 
 have been fancifully compared to a splendid bunch of 
 flowers, suddenly shaken by a puff of wind, which 
 threatened to scatter the leaves of an old, brown, with 
 ered rose, on the same stalk with two dewy buds, 
 such being the emblem of the widow between her fair 
 young bridemaids. But her heroism was admirable. 
 She had started with an irrepressible shudder, as if 
 the stroke of the bell had fallen directly on her heart ; 
 then, recovering herself, while her attendants were 
 yet in dismay, she took the lead, and paced calmly 
 up the aisle. The bell continued to swing, strike, and 
 
46 TWICE-TOLD TALES. 
 
 vibrate, with the same doleful regularity as when a 
 corpse is on its way to the tomb. 
 
 " My young friends here have their nerves a little 
 shaken," said the widow, with a smile, to the clergy 
 man at the altar. " But so many weddings have been 
 ushered in with the merriest peal of the bells, and yet 
 turned out unhappily, that I shall hope for better for 
 tune under such different auspices." 
 
 " Madam," answered the rector, in great perplexity, 
 " this strange occurrence brings to my mind a mar 
 riage sermon of the famous Bishop Taylor, wherein 
 he mingles so many thoughts of mortality and future 
 woe, that, to speak somewhat after his own rich style, 
 he seems to hang the bridal chamber in black, and 
 cut the wedding garment out of a coffin pall. And 
 it has been the custom of divers nations to infuse 
 something of sadness into their marriage ceremonies, 
 so to keep death in mind while contracting that en 
 gagement which is life s chiefest business. Thus we 
 may draw a sad but profitable moral from this funeral 
 knell." 
 
 But, though the clergyman might have given his 
 moral even a keener point, he did not fail to dispatch 
 an attendant to inquire into the mystery, and stop 
 those sounds, so dismally appropriate to such a mar 
 riage. A brief space elapsed, during which the si 
 lence was broken only by whispers, and a few sup 
 pressed titterings, among the wedding party and the 
 spectators, who, after the first shock, were disposed to 
 draw an ill-natured merriment from the affair. The 
 young have less charity for aged follies than the old 
 for those of youth. The widow s glance was observed 
 to wander, for an instant, towards a window of the 
 church, as if searching for the time-worn marble that 
 
THE WEDDING KNELL. 47 
 
 she had dedicated to her first husband ; then her eye 
 lids dropped over their faded orbs, and her thoughts 
 were drawn irresistibly to another grave. Two buried 
 men, with a voice at her ear, and a cry afar off, were 
 calling her to lie down beside them. Perhaps, with 
 momentary truth of feeling, she thought how much 
 happier had been her fate, if, after years of bliss, the 
 bell were now tolling for her* funeral, and she were 
 followed to the grave by the old affection of her ear 
 liest lover, long her husband. But why had she re 
 turned to him, when their cold hearts shrank from 
 each other s embrace? 
 
 Still the death-bell tolled so mournfully, that the 
 sunshine seemed to fade in the air. A whisper, com 
 municated from those who stood nearest the windows, 
 now spread through the church ; a hearse, with a train 
 of several coaches, was creeping along the street, con 
 veying some dead man to the churchyard, while the 
 bride awaited a living one at the altar. Immediately 
 after, the footsteps of the bridegroom and his friends 
 were heard at the door. The widow looked down the 
 aisle, and clinched the arm of one of her bridemaids 
 in her bony hand with such unconscious violence, that 
 the fair girl trembled. 
 
 " You frighten me, my dear madam ! " cried she. 
 " For Heaven s sake, what is the matter? " 
 
 " Nothing, my dear, nothing," said the widow ; then, 
 whispering close to her ear, u There is a foolish 
 fancy that I cannot get rid of. I am expecting my 
 bridegroom to come into the church, with my first 
 two husbands for groomsmen ! " 
 
 " Look, look ! " screamed the bridemaid. " What 
 is here ? The funeral ! " 
 
 As she spoke, a dark procession paced into the 
 
48 TWICE-TOLD TALES. 
 
 church. First came an old man and woman, like chief 
 mourners at a funeral, attired from head to foot in the 
 deepest black, all but their pale features and hoary 
 hair ; he leaning on a staff, and supporting her de 
 crepit form with his nerveless arm. Behind appeared 
 another, and another pair, as aged, as black, and 
 mournful as the first. As they drew near, the widow 
 recognized in every face some trait of former friends, 
 long forgotten, but now returning, as if from their old 
 graves, to warn her to prepare a shroud ; or, with pur 
 pose almost as unwelcome, to exhibit their wrinkles 
 and infirmity, and claim her as their companion by 
 the tokens of her own decay. Many a merry night 
 had she danced with them, in youth. And now, in 
 joyless age, she felt that some withered partner should 
 request her hand, and all unite, in a dance of death, 
 to the music of the funeral bell. 
 
 While these aged mourners were passing up the 
 aisle, it was observed that, from pew to pew, the spec 
 tators shuddered with irrepressible awe, as some ob 
 ject, hitherto concealed by the intervening figures, 
 came full in sight. Many turned away their faces ; 
 others kept a fixed and rigid stare ; and a young girl 
 giggled hysterically, and fainted with the laughter on 
 her lips. When the spectral procession approached 
 the altar, each couple separated, and slowly diverged, 
 till, in the centre, appeared a form, that had been 
 worthily ushered in with all this gloomy pomp, the 
 death knell, and the funeral. It was the bridegroom 
 in his shroud ! 
 
 No garb but that of the grave could have befitted 
 such a deathlike aspect ; the eyes, indeed, had the 
 wild gleam of a sepulchral lamp ; all else was fixed in 
 the stern calmness which old men wear in the coffin. 
 
THE WEDDING KNELL. 49 
 
 The corpse stood motionless, but addressed the widow 
 in accents that seemed to melt into the clang of the 
 bell, which fell heavily on the air while he spoke. 
 
 "Come, my bride!" said those pale lips, "the 
 hearse is ready. The sexton stands waiting for us at 
 the door of the tomb. Let us be married ; and then 
 to our coffins ! " 
 
 How shall the widow s horror be represented ? It 
 gave her the ghastliness of a dead man s bride. Her 
 youthful friends stood apart, shuddering at the mourn 
 ers, the shrouded bridegroom, and herself ; the whole 
 scene expressed, by the strongest imagery, the vain 
 struggle of the gilded vanities of this world, when op 
 posed to age, infirmity, sorrow, and death. The awe 
 struck silence was first broken by the clergyman. 
 
 " Mr. Ellen wood," said he, soothingly, yet with 
 somewhat of authority, "you are not well. Your 
 mind has been agitated by the unusual circumstances 
 in which you are placed. The ceremony must be de 
 ferred. As an old friend, let me entreat you to re 
 turn home." 
 
 " Home ! yes, but not without my bride," answered 
 he, in the same hollow accents. " You deem this 
 mockery ; perhaps madness. Had I bedizened my 
 aged and broken frame with scarlet and embroidery 
 had I forced my withered lips to smile at my dead 
 heart that might have been mockery, or madness. 
 But now, let young and old declare, which of us has 
 come hither without a wedding garment, the bride 
 groom or the bride ! " 
 
 He stepped forward at a ghostly pace, and stood be 
 side the widow, contrasting the awful simplicity of 
 his shroud with the glare and glitter in which she had 
 arrayed herself for this unhappy scene. None, that 
 
 VOL. i. 
 
50 TWICE-TOLD TALES. 
 
 beheld them, could deny the terrible strength of the 
 moral which his disordered intellect had contrived to 
 draw. 
 
 " Cruel ! cruel ! " groaned the heart-stricken bride. 
 
 " Cruel ! " repeated he ; then, losing his deathlike 
 composure in a wild bitterness : " Heaven judge 
 which of us has been cruel to the other ! In youth 
 you deprived me of my happiness, my hopes, my aims ; 
 you took away all the substance of my life, and made 
 it a dream without reality enough even to grieve at 
 with only a pervading gloom, through which I walked 
 wearily, and cared not whither. But after forty years, 
 when I have built my tomb, and would not give up 
 the thought of resting there no, not for such a life 
 as we once pictured you call me to the altar. At 
 your summons 1 am here. But other husbands have 
 enjoyed your youth, your beauty, your warmth of 
 heart, and all that could be termed your life. What 
 is there for me but your decay and death? And 
 therefore I have bidden these funeral friends, and be 
 spoken the sexton s deepest knell, and am come, in my 
 shroud, to wed you, as with a burial service, that we 
 may join our hands at the door of the sepulchre, and 
 enter it together." 
 
 It was not frenzy ; it was not merely the drunken 
 ness of strong emotion, in a heart unused to it, that 
 now wrought upon the bride. The stern lesson of the 
 day had done its work ; her worldliness was gone. 
 She seized the bridegroom s hand. 
 
 " Yes ! " cried she. " Let us wed, even at the door 
 of the sepulchre! My life is gone in vanity and 
 emptiness. But at its close there is one true feeling. 
 It has made me what I was in youth ; it makes me 
 worthy of you. Time is no more for both of us. Let 
 us wed for Eternity! " 
 
THE WEDDING KNELL. 51 
 
 "With a long and deep regard, the bridegroom 
 looked into her eyes, while a tear was gathering in 
 his own. How strange that gush of human feeling 
 from the frozen bosom of a corpse ! He wiped away 
 the tears even with his shroud. 
 
 " Beloved of my youth," said he, " 1 have been 
 wild. The despair of my whole lifetime had returned 
 at once, and maddened me. Forgive ; and be for 
 given. Yes ; it is evening with us now ; and we have 
 realized none of our morning dreams of happiness. 
 But let us join our hands before the altar, as lovers 
 whom adverse circumstances have separated through 
 life, yet who meet again as they are leaving it, and 
 find their earthly affection changed into something 
 holy as religion. And what is Time, to the married 
 of Eternity?" 
 
 Amid the tears of many, and a swell of exalted 
 sentiment, in those who felt aright, was solemnized 
 the union of two immortal souls. The train of with 
 ered mourners, the hoary bridegroom in his shroud, 
 the pale features of the aged bride, and the death- 
 bell tolling through the whole, till its deep voice over 
 powered the marriage words, all marked the funeral 
 of earthly hopes. But as the ceremony proceeded, 
 the organ, as if stirred by the sympathies of this im 
 pressive scene, poured forth an anthem, first mingling 
 with the dismal knell, then rising to a loftier strain, 
 till the soul looked down upon its woe. And when 
 the awful rite was finished, and with cold hand in cold 
 hand, the Married of Eternity withdrew, the organ s 
 peal of solemn triumph drowned the Wedding Knell. 
 
THE MINISTER S BLACK VEIL. 
 
 A PARABLE. 1 
 
 THE sexton stood in the porch of Milford meeting 
 house, pulling busily at the bell-rope. The old peo 
 ple of the village came stooping along the street. 
 Children, with bright faces, tripped merrity beside 
 their parents, or mimicked a graver gait, in the con 
 scious dignity of their Sunday clothes. Spruce bach 
 elors looked sidelong at the pretty maidens, and fan 
 cied that the Sabbath sunshine made them prettier 
 than on week days. When the throng had mostly 
 streamed into the porch, the sexton began to toll the 
 bell, keeping his eye on the Keverend Mr. Hooper s 
 door. The first glimpse of the clergyman s figure was 
 the signal for the bell to cease its summons. 
 
 " But what has good Parson Hooper got upon his 
 face ? " cried the sexton in astonishment. 
 
 All within hearing immediately turned about, and 
 beheld the semblance of Mr. Hooper, pacing slowly 
 his meditative way towards the meeting-house. With 
 one accord they started, expressing more wonder than 
 if some strange minister were coming to dust the 
 cushions of Mr. Hooper s pulpit. 
 
 1 Another clergyman in New England, Mr. Joseph Moody, of York, 
 Maine, who died about eighty years since, made himself remarkable 
 by the same eccentricity that is here related of the Reverend Mr. 
 Hooper. In his case, however, the symbol had a different import 
 In early life he had accidentally killed a beloved friend ; and from 
 that day till the hour of his own death, he hid his face from men. 
 
THE MINISTER S BLACK VEIL. 53 
 
 " Are you sure it is our parson ? " inquired Good 
 man Gray of the sexton. 
 
 " Of a certainty it is good Mr. Hooper," replied the 
 sexton. "He was to have exchanged pulpits with 
 Parson Shute, of Westbury ; but Parson Shute sent 
 to excuse himself yesterday, being to preach a funeral 
 sermon/" 
 
 The cause of so much amazement may appear suffi 
 ciently slight. Mr. Hooper, a gentlemanly person, of 
 about thirty, though still a bachelor, was dressed with 
 due clerical neatness, as if a carefid wife had starched 
 his band, and brushed the weekly dust from his Sun 
 day s garb. There was but one thing remarkable in 
 his appearance. Swathed about his forehead, and 
 hanging down over his face, so low as to be shaken 
 by his breath, Mr. Hooper had on a black veil. On 
 a nearer view it seemed to consist of two folds of 
 crape, which entirely concealed his features, except 
 the mouth and chin, but probably did not intercept 
 his sight, further than to give a darkened aspect to 
 all living and inanimate things. "With this gloomy 
 shade before him, good Mr. Hooper walked onward, 
 at a slow and quiet pace, stooping somewhat, and look 
 ing on the ground, as is customary with abstracted 
 men, yet nodding kindly to those of his parishioners 
 who still waited on the meeting-house steps. But so 
 wonder-struck were they that his greeting hardly met 
 with a return. 
 
 " I can t really feel as if good Mr. Hooper s face 
 was behind that piece of crape," said the sexton. 
 
 " I don t like it," muttered an old woman, as she 
 hobbled into the meeting-house. " He has changed 
 himself into something awful, only by hiding his face." 
 
 " Our parson has gone mad ! " cried Goodman Gray, 
 following him across the threshold. 
 
54 TWICE-TOLD TALES. 
 
 A rumor of some unaccountable phenomenon had 
 preceded Mr. Hooper into the meeting-house, and set 
 all the congregation astir. Few could refrain from 
 twisting their heads towards the door ; many stood 
 upright, and turned directly about ; while several lit 
 tle boys clambered upon the seats, and came down 
 again with a terrible racket. There was a general 
 bustle, a rustling of the women s gowns and shuffling 
 of the men s feet, greatly at variance with that hushed 
 repose which should attend the entrance of the minis 
 ter. But Mr. Hooper appeared not to notice the per 
 turbation of his people. He entered with an almost 
 noiseless step, bent his head mildly to the pews on 
 each side, and bowed as he passed his oldest parish 
 ioner, a white-haired great-grandsire, who occupied an 
 arm-chair in the centre of the aisle. It was strange 
 to observe how slowly this venerable man became 
 conscious of something singular in the appearance of 
 his pastor. He seemed not fully to partake of the 
 prevailing wonder, till Mr. Hooper had ascended the 
 stairs, and showed himself in the pulpit, face to face 
 with his congregation, except for the black veil. That 
 mysterious emblem was never once withdrawn. It 
 shook with his measured breath, as he gave out the 
 psalm; it threw its obscurity between him and the 
 holy page, as he read the Scriptures ; and while he 
 prayed, the veil lay heavily on his uplifted counte 
 nance. Did he seek to hide it from the dread Being 
 whom he was addressing ? 
 
 Such was the effect of this simple piece of crape, 
 that more than one woman of delicate nerves was 
 forced to leave the meeting-house. Yet perhaps the 
 pale-faced congregation was almost as fearful a sight 
 to the minister, as his black veil to them. 
 
THE MINISTER S BLACK VEIL. 55 
 
 Mr. Hooper had the reputation of a good preacher, 
 but not an energetic one : he strove to win his people 
 heavenward by inild, persuasive influences, rather than 
 to drive them thither by the thunders of the Word. 
 The sermon which he now delivered was marked by 
 the same characteristics of style and manner as the 
 general series of his pulpit oratory. But there was 
 something, either in the sentiment of the discourse it 
 self, or in the imagination of the auditors, which made 
 it greatly the most powerful effort that they had ever 
 heard from their pastor s lips. It was tinged, rather 
 more darkly than usual, with the gentle gloom of Mr. 
 Hooper s temperament. The subject had reference to 
 secret sin, and those sad mysteries which we hide from 
 our nearest and dearest, and would fain conceal from 
 our own consciousness, even forgetting that the Omnis 
 cient can detect them. A subtle power was breathed 
 into his words. Each member of the congregation, 
 the most innocent girl, and the man of hardened 
 breast, felt as if the preacher had crept upon them, 
 behind his awful veil, and discovered their hoarded in 
 iquity of deed or thought. Many spread their clasped 
 hands on their bosoms. There was nothing terrible 
 in what Mr. Hooper said, at least, no violence : and 
 yet, with every tremor of his melancholy voice, the 
 hearers quaked. An unsought pathos came hand in 
 hand with awe. So sensible were the audience of 
 some unwonted attribute in their minister, that they 
 longed for a breath of wind to blow aside the veil, al 
 most believing that a stranger s visage would be dis 
 covered, though the form, gesture, and voice were those 
 of Mr. Hooper. 
 
 At the close of the services, the people hurried out 
 with indecorous confusion, eager to communicate their 
 
56 TWICE-TOLD TALES. 
 
 pent-up amazement, and conscious of lighter spirits 
 the moment they lost sight of the black veil. Some 
 gathered in little circles, huddled closely together, with 
 their mouths all whispering in the centre ; some went 
 homeward alone, wrapt in silent meditation; some 
 talked loudly, and profaned the Sabbath day with os 
 tentatious laughter. A few shook their sagacious 
 heads, intimating that they could penetrate the mys 
 tery ; while one or two affirmed that there was no 
 mystery at all, but only that Mr. Hooper s eyes were 
 so weakened by the midnight lamp, as to require a 
 shade. After a brief interval, forth came good Mr. 
 Hooper also, in the rear of his flock. Turning his 
 veiled face from one group to another, he paid due 
 reverence to the hoary heads, saluted the middle aged 
 with kind dignity as their friend and spiritual guide, 
 greeted the young with mingled authority and love, 
 and laid his hands on the little children s heads to 
 bless them. Such was always his custom on the Sab 
 bath day. Strange and bewildered looks repaid him 
 for his courtesy. None, as on former occasions, as 
 pired to the honor of walking by their pastor s side. 
 Old Squire Saunders, doubtless by an accidental lapse 
 of memory, neglected to invite Mr. Hooper to his ta 
 ble, where the good clergyman had been wont to bless 
 the food, almost every Sunday sin<5e his settlement. 
 He returned, therefore, to the parsonage, and, at the 
 moment of closing the door, was observed to look back 
 upon the people, all of whom had their eyes fixed upon 
 the minister. A sad smile gleamed faintly from be 
 neath the black veil, and flickered about his mouth, 
 glimmering as he disappeared. 
 
 " How strange," said a lady, " that a simple black 
 veil, such as any woman might wear on her bonnet, 
 
THE MINISTER S BLACK VEIL. 57 
 
 should become such a terrible thing on Mr. Hooper s 
 face!" 
 
 " Something must surely be amiss with Mr. Hoop 
 er s intellects," observed her husband, the physician 
 of the village. " But the strangest part of the affair 
 is the effect of this vagary, even on a sober-minded 
 man like myself. The black veil, though it covers 
 only our pastor s face, throws its yifluence over his 
 whole person, and makes him ghostlike from head to 
 foot. Do you not feel it so ? " 
 
 " Truly do I," replied the lady ; " and I would not 
 be alone with him for the world. I wonder he is not 
 afraid to be alone with himself ! " 
 
 " Men sometimes are so," said her husband. 
 
 The afternoon service was attended with similar cir 
 cumstances. At its conclusion, the bell tolled for the 
 funeral of a young lady. The relatives and friends 
 were assembled in the house, and the more distant ac 
 quaintances stood about the door, speaking of the good 
 qualities of the deceased, when their talk was inter 
 rupted by the appearance of Mr. Hooper, still covered 
 with his black veil. It was now an appropriate em 
 blem. The clergyman stepped into the room where 
 the corpse was laid, and bent over the coffin, to take 
 a last farewell of his deceased parishioner. As he 
 stooped, the veil hung straight down from his fore 
 head, so that, if her eyelids had not been closed for 
 ever, the dead maiden might have seen his face. Could 
 Mr. Hooper be fearful of her glance, that he so hastily 
 caught back the black veil 9 A person who watched 
 the interview between the dead and living, scrupled 
 not to affirm, that, at the instant when the clergy 
 man s features were disclosed, the corpse had slightly 
 shuddered, rustling the shroud and muslin cap, though 
 
58 TWICE-TOLD TALES. 
 
 the countenance retained the composure of death. A 
 superstitious old woman was the only witness of this 
 prodigy. From the coffin Mr. Hooper passed into the 
 chamber of the mourners, and thence to the head of 
 the staircase, to make the funeral prayer. It was a 
 tender and heart-dissolving prayer, full of sorrow, yet 
 so imbued with celestial hopes, that the music of a 
 heavenly harp, swept by the fingers of the dead, seemed 
 faintly to be heard among the saddest accents of the 
 minister. The people trembled, though they but 
 darkly understood him when he prayed that they, and 
 himself, and all of mortal race, might be ready, as he 
 trusted this young maiden had been, for the dreadful 
 hour that should snatch the veil from their faces. The 
 bearers went heavily forth, and the mourners followed, 
 saddening all the street, with the dead before them, 
 and Mr. Hooper in his black veil behind. 
 
 " Why do you look back? " said one in the proces 
 sion to his partner. 
 
 "I had a fancy," replied she, "that the minister 
 and the maiden s spirit were walking hand in hand." 
 
 " And so had I, at the same moment," said the 
 other. 
 
 That night, the handsomest couple in Milford vil 
 lage were to be joined in wedlock. Though reckoned 
 a melancholy man, Mr. Hooper had a placid cheerful 
 ness for such occasions, which often excited a sympa 
 thetic smile where livelier merriment would have been 
 thrown away. There was no quality of his disposition 
 which made him more beloved than this. The company 
 at the wedding awaited his arrival with impatience, 
 trusting that the strange awe, which had gathered over 
 him throughout the day, would now be dispelled. But 
 such was not the result. When Mr. Hooper carne, the 
 
THE MINISTER S BLACK VEIL. 59 
 
 first thing that their eyes rested on was the same hor 
 rible black veil, which had added deeper gloom to the 
 funeral, and could portend nothing but evil to the 
 wedding. Such was its immediate effect on the guests 
 that a cloud seemed to have rolled duskily from be 
 neath the black crape, and dimmed the light of the 
 candles. The bridal pair stood up before the minister. 
 But the bride s cold fingers quivered in the tremulous 
 hand of the bridegroom, and her deathlike paleness 
 caused a whisper that the maiden who had been buried 
 a few hours before was come from her grave to be 
 married. If ever another wedding were so dismal, it 
 was that famous one where they tolled the wedding 
 knell. After performing the ceremony, Mr. Hooper 
 raised a glass of wine to his lips, wishing happiness to 
 the new-married couple in a strain of mild pleasantry 
 that ought to have brightened the features of the 
 guests, like a cheerful gleam from the hearth. At 
 that instant, catching a glimpse of his figure in the 
 looking-glass, the black veil involved his own spirit in 
 the horror with which it overwhelmed all others. His 
 frame shuddered, his lips grew white, he spilt the un- 
 tasted wine upon the carpet, and rushed forth into 
 the darkness. For the Earth, too, had on her Black 
 Veil. 
 
 The next day, the whole village of Milford talked 
 of little else than Parson Hooper s black veil. That, 
 and the mystery concealed behind it, supplied a topic 
 for discussion between acquaintances meeting in the 
 street, and good women gossiping at their open win 
 dows. It was the first item of news that the tavern- 
 keeper told to his guests. The children babbled of it 
 on their way to school. One imitative little imp cov 
 ered his face with an old black handkerchief, thereby 
 
60 TWICE-TOLD TALES. 
 
 so affrighting his playmates that the panic seized him 
 self, and he well-nigh lost his wits by his own waggery. 
 It was remarkable that of all the busybodies and 
 impertinent people in the parish, not one ventured to 
 put the plain question to Mr. Hooper, wherefore he 
 did this thing. Hitherto, whenever there appeared 
 the slightest call for such interference, he had never 
 lacked advisers, nor shown himself averse to be guided 
 by their judgment. If he erred at all, it was by so 
 painful a degree of self-distrust, that even the mildest 
 censure would lead him to consider an indifferent ac 
 tion as a crime. Yet, though so well acquainted with 
 this amiable weakness, no individual among his pa 
 rishioners chose to make the black veil a subject of 
 friendly remonstrance. There was a feeling of dread, 
 neither plainly confessed nor carefully concealed, which 
 caused each to shift the responsibility upon another, 
 till at length it was found expedient to send a deputa 
 tion of the church, in order to deal with Mr. Hooper 
 about the mystery, before it should grow into a scan 
 dal. Never did an embassy so ill discharge its duties. 
 The minister received them with friendly courtesy, but 
 became silent, after they were seated, leaving to his vis 
 itors the whole burden of introducing their important 
 business. The topic, it might be supposed, was obvi 
 ous enough. There was the black veil swathed round 
 Mr. Hooper s forehead, and concealing every feature 
 above his placid mouth, on which, at times, they could 
 perceive the glimmering of a melancholy smile. But 
 that piece of crape, to their imagination, seemed to 
 hang down before his heart, the symbol of a fearful 
 secret between him and them. Were the veil but cast 
 aside, they might speak freely of it, but not till then, 
 Thus they sat a considerable time, speechless, confused, 
 
THE MINISTER S BLACK VEIL. 01 
 
 and shrinking uneasily from Mr. Hooper s eye, which 
 they felt to be fixed upon them with an invisible 
 glance. Finally, the deputies returned abashed to 
 their constituents, pronouncing the matter too weighty 
 to be handled, except by a council of the churches, if, 
 indeed, it might not require a general synod. 
 
 But there was one person in the village unappalled 
 by the awe with which the black veil had impressed 
 all beside herself. When the deputies returned with 
 out an explanation, or even venturing to demand one, 
 she, with the calm energy of her character, determined 
 to chase away the strange cloud that appeared to be 
 settling round Mr. Hooper, every moment more darkly 
 than before. As his plighted wife, it should be her 
 privilege to know what the black veil concealed. At 
 the minister s first visit, therefore, she entered upon 
 the subject with a direct simplicity, which made the 
 task easier both for him and her. After he had seated 
 himself, she fixed her eyes steadfastly upon the veil, 
 but could discern nothing of the dreadful gloom that 
 had so overawed the multitude : it was but a double 
 fold of crape, hanging down from his forehead to his 
 mouth, and slightly stirring with his breath. 
 
 " No," said she aloud, and smiling, " there is noth 
 ing terrible in this piece of crape, except that it hides 
 a face which I am always glad to look upon. Come, 
 good sir, let the sun shine from behind the cloud. 
 First lay aside your black veil : then tell me why you 
 put it on." 
 
 Mr. Hooper s smile glimmered faintly. 
 
 " There is an hour to come," said he, t; when all of 
 as shall cast aside our veils. Take it not amiss, be 
 loved friend, if I wear this piece of crape till then. 
 
 " Your words are a mystery, too," returned the 
 
62 TWICE-TOLD TALES. 
 
 young lady. "Take away the veil from them, at 
 least." 
 
 " Elizabeth, I will," said he, " so far as my vow may 
 suffer me. Know, then, this veil is a type and a sym 
 bol, and I am bound to wear it ever, both in light and 
 darkness, in solitude and before the gaze of multitudes, 
 and as with strangers, so with my familiar friends. 
 No mortal eye will see it withdrawn. This dismal 
 shade must separate me from the world : even you, 
 Elizabeth, can never come behind it ! " 
 
 " What grievous affliction hath befallen you," she 
 earnestly inquired, " that you should thus darken your 
 eyes forever ? " 
 
 " If it be a sign of mourning," replied Mr. Hooper, 
 " I, perhaps, like most other mortals, have sorrows 
 dark enough to be typified by a black veil." 
 
 " But what if the world will not believe that it is 
 the type of an innocent sorrow?" urged Elizabeth. 
 " Beloved and respected as you are, there may be 
 whispers that you hide your face under the conscious 
 ness of secret sin. For the sake of your holy office, 
 do away this scandal ! " 
 
 The color rose into her cheeks as she intimated the 
 nature of the rumors that were already abroad in the 
 village. But Mr. Hooper s mildness did not forsake 
 him. He even smiled again that same sad smile, 
 which always appeared like a faint glimmering of 
 light, proceeding from the obscurity beneath the veil. 
 
 "If I hide my face for sorrow, there is cause 
 enough," he merely replied ; " and if I cover it for 
 secret sin, what mortal might not do the same ? " 
 
 And with this gentle, but unconquerable obstinacy 
 did he resist all her entreaties. At length Elizabeth 
 sat silent. For a few moments she appeared lost 
 
THE MINISTER S BLACK VEIL. 63 
 
 in thought, considering, probably, what new methods 
 might be tried to withdraw her lover from so dark a 
 fantasy, which, if it had no other meaning, was per 
 haps a symptom of mental disease. Though of a 
 firmer character than his own, the tears rolled down 
 her cheeks. But, in an instant, as it were, a new feel 
 ing took the place of sorrow : her eyes were fixed in 
 sensibly on the black veil, when, like a sudden twilight 
 in the air, its terrors fell around her. She arose, and 
 stood trembling before him. 
 
 " And do you feel it then, at last ? " said he mourn 
 fully. 
 
 She made no reply, but covered her eyes with her 
 hand, and turned to leave the room. He rushed for 
 ward and caught her arm. 
 
 "Have patience with me, Elizabeth!" cried he, 
 passionately. "Do not desert me, though this veil 
 must be between us here on earth. Be mine, and 
 hereafter there shall be no veil over my face, no dark 
 ness between our souls ! It is but a mortal veil it 
 is not for eternity O ! you know not how lonely I 
 am, and how frightened, to be alone behind my black 
 veil. Do not leave me in this miserable obscurity for 
 ever! " 
 
 " Lift the veil but once, and look me in the face," 
 said she. 
 
 "Never! It cannot be!" replied Mr. Hooper. 
 
 " Then farewell !" said Elizabeth. 
 
 She withdrew her arm from his grasp, and slowly 
 departed, pausing at the door, to give "one long shud 
 dering gaze, that seemed almost to penetrate the mys 
 tery of the black veil. But, even amid his grief, Mr. 
 Hooper smiled to think that only a material emblem 
 bad separated him from happiness, though the hor- 
 
64 TWICE-TOLD TALES. 
 
 rors, which it shadowed forth, must be drawn darkly 
 between the fondest of lovers. 
 
 From that time no attempts were made to remove 
 Mr. Hooper s black veil, or, by a direct appeal, to dis 
 cover the secret which it was supposed to hide. By 
 persons who claimed a superiority to popular preju 
 dice, it was reckoned merely an eccentric whim, such 
 as often mingles with the sober actions of men other 
 wise rational, and tinges them all with its own sem 
 blance of insanity. But with the multitude, good Mr. 
 Hooper was irreparably a bugbear. He could not 
 walk the street with any peace of mind, so conscious 
 was he that the gentle and timid would turn aside to 
 avoid him, and that others would make it a point of 
 hardihood to throw themselves in his way. The im 
 pertinence of the latter class compelled him to give 
 up his customary walk at sunset to the burial ground ; 
 for when he leaned pensively over the gate, there 
 would always be faces behind the gravestones, peep 
 ing at his black veil. A fable went the rounds that 
 the stare of the dead people drove him thence. It 
 grieved him, to the very depth of his kind heart, to 
 observe how the children fled from his approach, 
 breaking up their merriest sports, while his melan 
 choly figure was yet afar off. Their instinctive dread 
 caused him to feel more strongly than aught else, that 
 a preternatural horror was interwoven with the threads 
 of the black crape. In truth, his own antipathy to 
 the veil was known to be so great, that he never will 
 ingly passed before a mirror, nor stooped to drink at 
 a still fountain, lest, in its peaceful bosom, he should 
 be affrighted by himself. This was what gave plausi 
 bility to the whispers, that Mr. Hooper s conscience 
 tortured him for some great crime too horrible to be 
 
THE MINISTER S BLACK VEIL. 65 
 
 entirely concealed, or otherwise than so obscurely in 
 timated. Thus, from beneath the black veil, there 
 rolled a cloud into the sunshine, an ambiguity of sin 
 or sorrow, which enveloped the poor minister, so that 
 love or sympathy could never reach him. It was said 
 that ghost and fiend consorted with him there. With 
 self-shtidderings and outward terrors, he walked con 
 tinually in its shadow, groping darkly within his own 
 soul, or gazing through a medium that saddened the 
 whole world. Even the lawless wind, it was believed, 
 respected his dreadful secret, and never blew aside the 
 veil. But still good Mr. Hooper sadly smiled at the 
 pale visages of the worldly throng as he passed by. 
 
 Among all its bad influences, the black veil had the 
 one desirable effect, of making its wearer a very effi 
 cient clergyman. By the aid of his mysterious emblem 
 for there was no other apparent cause he became 
 a man of awful power over souls that were in agony 
 for sin. His converts always regarded him with a 
 dread peculiar to themselves, affirming, though but 
 figuratively, that, before he brought them to celestial 
 light, they had been with him behind the black veil. 
 Its gloom, indeed, enabled him to sympathize with all 
 dark affections. Dying sinners cried aloud for Mr. 
 Hooper, and would not yield their breath till he ap 
 peared ; though ever, as he stooped to whisper conso 
 lation, they shuddered at the veiled face so near their 
 own. Such were the terrors of the black veil, even 
 when Death had bared his visage ! Strangers came 
 long distances to attend service at his church, with the 
 mere idle purpose of gazing at his figure, because it 
 was forbidden them to behold his face. But many 
 were made to quake ere they departed ! Once, during 
 Governor Belcher s administration. Mr. Hooper was 
 
66 TWICE-TOLD TALES. 
 
 appointed to preach the election sermon. Covered 
 with his black veil, he stood before the chief magis 
 trate, the council, and the representatives, and wrought 
 so deep an impression, that the legislative measures 
 of that year were characterized by all the gloom and 
 piety of our earliest ancestral sway. 
 
 In this manner Mr. Hooper spent a long life, irre 
 proachable in outward act, yet shrouded in dismal sus 
 picions ; kind and loving, though unloved, and dimly 
 feared; a man apart from men, shunned in their 
 health and joy, but ever summoned to their aid in 
 mortal anguish. As years wore on, shedding their 
 snows above his sable veil, he acquired a name 
 throughout the New England churches, and they called 
 him Father Hooper. Nearly all his parishioners, who 
 were of mature age when he was settled, had been 
 borne away by many a funeral : he had one congrega 
 tion in the church, and a more crowded one in the 
 churchyard; and having wrought so late into the 
 evening, and done his work so well, it was now good 
 Father Hooper s turn to rest. 
 
 Several persons were visible by the shaded candle 
 light, in the death chamber of the old clergyman. 
 Natural connections he had none. But there was the 
 decorously grave, though unmoved physician, seeking 
 only to mitigate the last pangs of the patient whom 
 he could not save. There were the deacons, and other 
 eminently pious members of his church. There, also, 
 was the Reverend Mr. Clark, of Westbury, a young 
 and zealous divine, who had ridden in haste to pray 
 by the bedside of the expiring minister. There was 
 the nurse, no hired handmaiden of death, but one 
 whose calm affection had endured thus long in secrecy, 
 in solitude, amid the chill of age, and would not per. 
 
THE MINISTER S BLACK VEIL. 67 
 
 ish, even at the dying hour. AVho, but Elizabeth! 
 And there lay the hoary head of good Father Hooper 
 upon the death pillow, with the black veil still swathed 
 about iris brow, and reaching down over his face, so 
 that each more difficult gasp of his faint breath caused 
 it to stir. All through life that piece o crape had 
 hung between him and the world: it had separated 
 him from cheerful brotherhood and woman s love, and 
 kept him in that saddest of all prisons, his own heart ; 
 and still it lay upon his face, as if to deepen the 
 gloom of his darksome chamber, and shade him from 
 the sunshine of eternity. 
 
 For some time previous, his mind had been con 
 fused, wavering doubtfully between the past and th 
 present, and hovering forward, as it were, at intervals, 
 into the indistinctness of the world to come. There 
 had been feverish turns, which tossed him from side 
 to side, and wore away what little strength he had. 
 But in his most convulsive struggles, and in the wild 
 est vagaries of his intellect, when no other thought 
 retained its sober influence, he still showed an awful 
 solicitude lest the black veil should slip aside. Even 
 if his bewildered soul could have forgotten, there was 
 a faithful woman at his pillow, wiio, with averted eyes, 
 would have covered that aged face, which she had last 
 beheld in the comeliness of manhood. At length the 
 death-stricken old man lay quietly in the torpor of 
 mental and bodily exhaustion, with an imperceptible 
 pulse, and breath that grew fainter and fainter, except 
 when a long, deep, and irregular inspiration seemed 
 to prelude the flight of his spirit 
 
 The minister of Westbury approached the bedside. 
 
 " Venerable Father Hooper," said he, " the moment 
 of your release is at hand. Are you ready for the lift 
 ing of the veil that shuts in time from eternity ? " 
 
68 TWICE-TOLD TALES. 
 
 Father Hooper at first replied merely by a feeble 
 motion of his head ; then, apprehensive, perhaps, that 
 his meaning might be doubtful, he exerted himself to 
 speak. 
 
 " Yea," said he, in faint accents, " my soul hath a 
 patient weariness until that veil be lifted." 
 
 "And is it fitting," resumed the Reverend Mr. 
 Clark, "that a man so given to prayer, of such a 
 blameless example, holy in deed and thought, so far 
 as mortal judgment may pronounce ; is it fitting that 
 a father in the church should leave a shadow on his 
 memory, that may seem to blacken a life so pure ? I 
 pray you, my venerable brother, let not this thing be ! 
 Suffer us to be gladdened by your triumphant aspect 
 as you go to your reward. Before the veil of eternity 
 be lifted, let me cast aside this black veil from your 
 face ! " 
 
 And thus speaking, the Reverend Mr. Clark bent 
 forward to reveal the mystery of so many years. But, 
 exerting a sudden energy, that made all the beholders 
 stand aghast, Father Hooper snatched both his hands 
 from beneath the bedclothes, and pressed them strongly 
 on the black veil, resolute to struggle, if the minister 
 of Westbury would contend with a dying man. 
 
 " Never ! " cried the veiled clergyman. " On earth, 
 never!" 
 
 " Dark old man ! " exclaimed the affrighted minister, 
 " with what horrible crime upon your soul are you 
 now passing to the judgment ? " 
 
 Father Hooper s breath heaved ; it rattled in his 
 throat; but, with a mighty effort, grasping forward 
 with his hands, he caught hold of life, and held it back 
 till he should speak. He even raised himself in b,ed ; 
 and there he sat, shivering with the arms of death 
 
THE MINISTER S BLACK VEIL. 69 
 
 around him, while the black veil hung down, awf id, at 
 that last moment, in the gathered terrors of a lifetime. 
 And yet the faint, sad smile, so often there, now 
 seemed to glimmer from its obscurity, and linger on 
 Father Hooper s lips. 
 
 ki Why do you tremble at me alone ? " cried he, 
 turning his veiled face round the circle of pale spec 
 tators. " Tremble also at each other! Have men 
 avoided me, and women shown no pity, and children 
 screamed and fled, only for my black veil? What, 
 but the mystery which it obscurely typifies, has made 
 this piece of crape so awful ? When the friend shows 
 his inmost heart to his friend ; the lover to his best 
 beloved; w r heii man does not vainly shrink from the 
 eye of his Creator, loathsomely treasuring up the se 
 cret of his sin ; then deem me a monster, for the sym 
 bol beneath which I have lived, and die! I look 
 around me, and, lo ! on every visage a Black Veil ! 
 
 While his auditors shrank from one another, in 
 mutual affright, Father Hooper fell back upon his pil 
 low, a veiled corpse, with a faint smile lingering on 
 the lips. Still veiled, they laid him in his coffin, and 
 a veiled corpse they bore him to the grave. The grass 
 of many years has sprung up and withered on that 
 grave, the burial stone is moss-grown, and good Mr. 
 Hooper s face is dust; but awful is still the thought 
 that it mouldered beneath the Black Veil I 
 
THE MAYPOLE OF MERRY MOUNT. 
 
 There is an admirable foundation for a philosophic romance in the 
 curious history of the early settlement of Mount Wollaston, or Merry 
 Mount. In the slight sketch here attempted, the facts, recorded on 
 the grave pages of our New England annalists, have wrought them 
 selves, almost spontaneously, into a sort of allegory. The masques, 
 mummeries, and festive customs, described in the text, are in accord 
 ance with the manners of the age. Authority on these points may 
 be found in Strutt s Book of English Sports and Pastimes. 
 
 BRIGHT were the days at Merry Mount, when the 
 Maypole was the banner staff of that gay colony! 
 They who reared it, should their banner be triumph 
 ant, were to pour sunshine over New England s rugged 
 hills, and scatter flower seeds throughout the soil. 
 Jollity and gloom were contending for an empire. 
 Midsummer eve had come, bringing deep verdure to 
 the forest, and roses in her lap, of a more vivid hue 
 than the tender buds of Spring. But May, or her 
 mirthful spirit, dwelt all the year round at Merry 
 Mount, sporting with the Summer months, and revel 
 ling with Autumn, and basking in the glow of Win 
 ter s fireside. Through a world of toil and care she 
 flitted with a dreamlike smile, and came hither to find 
 a home among the lightsome hearts of Merry Mount. 
 
 Never had the Maypole been so gayly decked as at 
 sunset on midsummer eve. This venerated emblem 
 was a pine-tree, which had preserved the slender grace 
 of youth, while it equalled the loftiest height of the 
 old wood monarchs. From its top streamed a silken 
 banner, colored like the rainbow. Down nearly to the 
 
THE MAYPOLE OF MERRY MOUNT. 71 
 
 ground the pole was dressed with birchen boughs, and 
 others of the liveliest green, and some with silvery 
 leaves, fastened by ribbons that fluttered in fantastic 
 knots of twenty different colors, but no sad ones. Gar 
 den flowers, and blossoms of the wilderness, laughed 
 gladly forth amid the verdure, so fresh and dewy that 
 they must have grown by magic on that happy pine- 
 tree. "Where this green and flowery splendor ternii 
 nated, the shaft of the Maypole was stained with the 
 seven brilliant hues of the banner at its top. On the 
 lowest green bough hung an abundant wreath of roses, 
 some that had been gathered in the sunniest spots of 
 the forest, and others, of still richer blush, which the 
 colonists had reared from English seed. O, people of 
 the Golden Age, the chief of your husbandry was to 
 raise flowers ! 
 
 But what was the wild throng that stood hand in 
 hand about the Maypole? It could not be that the 
 fauns and nymphs, when driven from their classic 
 groves and homes of ancient fable, had sought refuge, 
 as all the persecuted did, in the fresh woods of the 
 West. These were Gothic monsters, though perhaps 
 of Grecian ancestry. On the shoulders of a comely 
 youth uprose the head and branching antlers of a 
 stag; a second, human in all other points, had the 
 grim visage of a wolf ; a third, still with the trunk 
 and limbs of a mortal man, showed the beard and 
 horns of a venerable he-goat. There was the likeness 
 of a bear erect, brute in all but his hind legs, which 
 were adorned with pink silk stockings. And here 
 again, almost as wondrous, stood a real bear of the 
 dark forest, lending each of his fore paws to the grasp 
 of a human hand, and as ready for the dance as any 
 in that circle. His inferior nature rose half way, to 
 
72 TWICE-TOLD TALES. 
 
 meet his companions as they stooped. Other faces 
 wore the similitude of man or woman, but distorted 
 or extravagant, with red noses pendulous before their 
 mouths, which seemed of awful depth, and stretched 
 from ear to ear in an eternal fit of laughter. Here 
 might be seen the Salvage Man, well known in her 
 aldry, hairy as a baboon, and girdled with green leaves,, 
 By his side, a noble figure, but still a counterfeit, ap 
 peared an Indian hunter, with feathery crest and wam 
 pum belt. Many of this strange company wore fools 
 caps, and had little bells appended to their garments, 
 tinkling with a silvery sound, responsive to the inaudi 
 ble music of their gleesome spirits. Some youths and 
 maidens were of soberer garb, yet well maintained 
 their places .in the irregular throng by the expression 
 of wild revelry upon their features. Such were the 
 colonists of Merry Mount, as they stood in the broad 
 smile of sunset round their venerated Maypole. 
 
 Had a wanderer, bewildered in the melancholy for 
 est, heard their mirth, and stolen a half-affrighted 
 glance, he might have fancied them the crew of Co- 
 mus, some already transformed to brutes, some mid 
 way between man and beast, and the others rioting 
 in the flow of tipsy jollity that foreran the change. 
 But a band of Puritans, who watched the scene, invis 
 ible themselves, compared the masques to those devils 
 and ruined souls with whom their superstition peopled 
 the black wilderness. 
 
 Within the ring of monsters appeared the two air 
 iest forms that had ever trodden on any more solid 
 footing than a purple and golden cloud. One was a 
 youth in glistening apparel, with a scarf of the rajn- 
 bow pattern crosswise on his breast. His right hand 
 held a gilded staff, the ensign of high dignity among 
 
THE MAYPOLE OF MERRY MOUNT. 73 
 
 the revellers, and his left grasped the slender fingers 
 of a fair maiden, not less gayly decorated than him 
 self. Bright roses glowed in contrast with the dark 
 and glossy curls of each, and were scattered round 
 their feet, or had sprung up spontaneously there. Be 
 hind this lightsome couple, so close to the Maypole 
 that its boughs shaded his jovial face, stood the figure 
 of an English priest, canonically dressed, yet decked 
 with flowers, in heathen fashion, and wearing a chap- 
 let of the native vine leaves. By the riot of his roll 
 ing eye, and the pagan decorations of his holy garb, 
 he seemed the wildest monster there, and the very 
 Comus of the crew. 
 
 " Votaries of the Maypole." cried the flower-decked 
 priest, " merrily, all day long, have the woods echoed 
 to your mirth. But be this your merriest hour, my 
 hearts ! Lo, here stand the Lord and Lady of the 
 May, whom I, a clerk of Oxford, and high priest of 
 Merry Mount, am presently to join in holy matrimony. 
 Up with your nimble spirits, ye morris-dancers, green 
 men, and glee maidens, bears and wolves, and horned 
 gentlemen ! Come ; a chorus now, rich with the old 
 mirth of Merry England, and the wilder glee of this 
 fresh forest ; and then a dance, to show the youthful 
 pair what life is made of, and how airily they should 
 go through it! All ye that love the Maypole, lend 
 .your voices to the nuptial song of the Lord and Lady 
 of the May!" 
 
 This wedlock was more serious than most affairs of 
 Merry Mount, where jest and delusion, trick and fan 
 tasy, kept up a continual carnival. The Lord and 
 Lady of the May, though their titles must be laid 
 down at sunset, were really and truly to be partners 
 for the dance of life, beginning the measure that same 
 
74 TWICE-TOLD TALES. 
 
 bright eve. The wreath of roses, that hung from the 
 lowest green bough of the Maypole, had been twined 
 for them, and would be thrown over both their heads, 
 in symbol of their flowery union. When the priest 
 had spoken, therefore, a riotous uproar burst from the 
 rout of monstrous figures. 
 
 " Begin you the stave, reverend Sir," cried they all ; 
 " and never did the woods ring to such a merry peal 
 as we of the Maypole shall send up! " 
 
 Immediately a prelude of pipe, cithern, and viol, 
 touched with practised minstrelsy, began to play from 
 a neighboring thicket, in such a mirthful cadence that 
 the boughs of the Maypole quivered to the sound. 
 But the May Lord, he of the gilded staff, chancing to 
 look into his Lady s eyes, was wonder struck at the 
 almost pensive glance that met his own. 
 
 "Edith, sweet Lady of the May," whispered he 
 reproachfully, " is yon wreath of roses a garland to 
 hang above our graves, that you look so sad? O, 
 Edith, this is our golden time ! Tarnish it not by any 
 pensive shadow of the mind ; for it may be that noth 
 ing of futurity will be brighter than the mere remem 
 brance of what is now passing." 
 
 " That was the very thought that saddened me ! 
 How came it in your mind too ? " said Edith, in a still 
 lower tone than he, for it was high treason to be sad 
 at Merry Mount. " Therefore do I sigh amid this fes 
 tive music. And besides, dear Edgar, I struggle as 
 with a dream, and fancy that these shapes of our jovial 
 friends are visionary, and their mirth unreal, and that 
 we are no true Lord and Lady of the May- What 
 is the mystery in my heart? " 
 
 Just then, as if a spell had loosened them, down 
 came a little shower of withering rose leaves from the 
 
THE MAYPOLE OF MERRY MOUNT. 75 
 
 Maypole. Alas, for the young lovers! No sooner 
 had their hearts glowed with real passion than they 
 were sensible of something vague and unsubstantial 
 in their former pleasures, and felt a dreary presenti 
 ment of inevitable change. From the moment that 
 they truly loved, they had subjected themselves to 
 earth s doom of care and sorrow, and troubled joy, 
 and had no more a home at Merry Mount. That was 
 Edith s mystery. Now leave we the priest to many 
 them, and the masquers to sport round the Maypole, 
 till the last sunbeam be withdrawn from its summit, 
 and the shadows of the forest mingle glooinilv in the 
 dance. Meanwhile, we may discover who these gay 
 people were. 
 
 Two hundred years ago, and more, the old world 
 and its inhabitants became mutually weary of each 
 other. Men vo} T aged by thousands to the West : some 
 to barter glass beads, and such like jewels, for the furs 
 of the Indian hunter ; some to conquer virgin em 
 pires ; and one stern band to pray. But none of these 
 motives had much weight with the colonists of Merry 
 Mount. Their leaders were men who had sported so 
 long with life, that when Thought and Wisdom came, 
 even these unwelcome guests were led astray by the 
 crowd of vanities which they should have put to flight. 
 Erring Thought and perverted Wisdom were made 
 to put on masques, and play the fool. The men of 
 whom we speak, after losing the heart s fresh gayety, 
 imagined a wild philosophy of pleasure, and came 
 hither to act out their latest day-dream. They gath 
 ered followers from all that giddy tribe whose whole 
 life is like the festal days of soberer men. In their 
 train were minstrels, not unknown in London streets: 
 wandering nlnvprs, whose theatres had been the halls 
 
76 TWICE-TOLD TALES. 
 
 of noblemen; mummers, rope-dancers, and mounte 
 banks, who would long be missed at wakes, church 
 ales, and fairs ; in a word, mirth makers of every 
 sort, such as abounded in that age, but now began to 
 be discountenanced by the rapid growth of Puritan 
 ism. Light had their footsteps been on land, and as 
 lightly they came across the sea. Many had been 
 maddened by their previous troubles into a gay de 
 spair ; others were as madly gay in the flush of youth, 
 like the May Lord and his Lady ; but whatever might 
 be the quality of their mirth, old and young were gay 
 at Merry Mount. The young deemed themselves 
 happy. The elder spirits, if they knew that mirth 
 was but the counterfeit of happiness, yet followed the 
 false shadow wilfully, because at least her garments 
 glittered brightest. Sworn triflers of a lifetime, they 
 would not venture among the sober truths of life not 
 even to be truly blest. 
 
 All the hereditary pastimes of Old England were 
 transplanted hither. The King of Christmas was duly 
 crowned, and the Lord of Misrule bore potent sway. 
 On the Eve of St. John, they felled whole acres of the 
 forest to make bonfires, and danced by the blaze all 
 night, crowned with garlands, and throwing flowers 
 into the flame. At harvest time, though their crop 
 was of the smallest, they made an image with the 
 sheaves of Indian corn, and wreathed it with autumnal 
 garlands, and bore it home triumphantly. But what 
 chiefly characterized the colonists of Merry Mount 
 was their veneration for the Maypole. It has made 
 their true history a poet s tale. Spring decked the 
 hallowed emblem with young blossoms and fresh green 
 boughs ; Summer brought roses of the deepest blush, 
 and the perfected foliage of the forest ; Autumn en. 
 
THE MAYPOLE OF MERRY MOUNT. 77 
 
 riched it with that red and yellow gorgeousness which 
 converts each wildwood leaf into a painted flower; 
 and Winter silvered it with sleet, and hung it round 
 with icicles, till it flashed in the cold sunshine, itself a 
 frozen sunbeam. Thus each alternate season did hom 
 age to the Maypole, and, paid it a tribute of its own 
 richest splendor. Its votaries danced round it, once, 
 at least, in every month; sometimes they called it 
 their religion, or their altar ; but always, it was the 
 banner staff of Merry Mount. 
 
 Unfortunately, there were men in the new world of 
 a sterner faith than these Maypole worshippers. Not 
 far from Merry Mount was a settlement of Puritans, 
 most dismal wretches, who said their prayers before 
 daylight, and then wrought in the forest or the corn 
 field till evening made it prayer time again. Their 
 weapons were always at hand to shoot down the strag 
 gling savage. When they met in conclave, it was 
 never to keep up the old English mirth, but to hear 
 sermons three hours long, or to proclaim bounties on 
 the heads of wolves and the scalps of Indians. Their 
 festivals were fast days, and their chief pastime the 
 singing of psalms. Woe to the youth or maiden who 
 did but dream of a dance ! The selectman nodded to 
 the constable ; and there sat the light-heeled reprobate 
 in the stocks ; or if he danced, it was round the whip 
 ping-post, which might be termed the Puritan May 
 pole. 
 
 A party of these grim Puritans, toiling through the 
 difficult woods, each with a horseload of iron armor to 
 burden his footsteps, would sometimes draw near the 
 sunny precincts of Merry Mount. There were the 
 silken colonists, sporting round their Maypole ; per 
 haps teaching a bear to dance, or striving to conimuui* 
 
78 TWICE-TOLD TALES. 
 
 eate*their mirth to the grave Indian ; or masquerad 
 ing in the skins of deer and wolves, which they had 
 hunted for that especial purpose. Often, the whole 
 colony were playing at blindmaii s buff, magistrates 
 and all, with their eyes bandaged, except a single 
 scapegoat, whom the blinded^ sinners pursued by the 
 tinkling of the bells at his garments. Once, it is said, 
 they were seen following a flower-decked corpse, with 
 merriment and festive music, to his grave. But did 
 the dead man laugh? In their quietest times, they 
 sang ballads and told tales, for the edification of their 
 pious visitors ; or perplexed them with juggling tricks ; 
 or grinned at them through horse collars ; and when 
 sport itself grew wearisome, they made game of their 
 own stupidity, and began a yawning match. At the 
 very least of these enormities, the men of iron shook 
 their heads and frowned so darkly that the revellers 
 looked up, imagining that a momentary cloud had over 
 cast the sunshine, which was to be perpetual there. 
 On the other hand, the Puritans affirmed that, when 
 a psalm was pealing from their place of worship, the 
 echo which the forest sent them back seemed often 
 like the chorus of a jolly catch, closing with a roar of 
 laughter. Who but the fiend, and his bond slaves, 
 the crew of Merry Mount, had thus disturbed them? 
 In due time, a feud arose, stern and bitter on one side, 
 and as serious on the other as anything could be among 
 such light spirits as had sworn allegiance to the May 
 pole. The future complexion of New England was 
 involved in this important quarrel. Should the griz 
 zly saints establish their jurisdiction over the gay 
 sinners, then would their spirits darken all the clime, 
 and make it a land of clouded visages, of hard toUj oi 
 sermon and psalm forever. But should the banne/ 
 
THE MAYPOLE OF MERRY MOUNT. 79 
 
 staff of Merry Mount be fortunate, sunshine would 
 break upon the hills, and flowers would beautify the 
 forest, and late posterity do homage to the Maypole. 
 
 After these authentic passages from history, we re 
 turn to the nuptials of the Lord and Lady of the May. 
 Alas ! we have delayed too long, and must darken our 
 tale too suddenly. As we glance again at the May 
 pole, a solitary sunbeam is fading from the summit, 
 and leaves only a faint, golden tinge blended with the 
 hues of the rainbow banner. Even that dim light is 
 now withdrawn, relinquishing the whole domain of 
 Merry Mount to the evening gloom, which has rushed 
 so instantaneously from the black surrounding woods. 
 But some of these black shadows have rushed forth in 
 human shape. 
 
 Yes, with the setting sun, the last day of mirth had 
 passed from Merry Mount. The ring of gay mas 
 quers was disordered and broken : the stag lowered 
 his antlers in dismay: the wolf grew weaker than a 
 lamb ; the bells of the morris-dancers tinkled with 
 tremulous affright. The Puritans had played a char 
 acteristic part in the Maypole mummeries. Their 
 darksome figures were intermixed with the wild shapes 
 of their foes, and made the scene a picture of the 
 moment, when waking thoughts start up amid the 
 scattered fantasies of a dream. The leader of the 
 hostile party stood in the centre of the circle, while 
 the route of monsters cowered around him. like evil 
 spirits in the presence of a dread magician. No fan 
 tastic foolery could look him in the face. So stern 
 was the energy of his aspect, that the whole man. vis 
 age, frame, and soul, seemed wrought of iron, gifted 
 with life and thought, yet all of one substance with 
 his headpiece and breastplate. It was the Puritan of 
 Puritans : it was Endicott himself ! 
 
80 TWICE-TOLD TALES. 
 
 " Stand off, priest of Baal ! " said he, with a grim 
 frown, and laying no reverent hand upon the surplice. 
 " I know thee, Blackstone ! l Thou art the man who 
 couldst not abide the rule even of thine own corrupted 
 church, and hast come hither to preach iniquity, and 
 to give example of it in thy life. But now shall it be 
 seen that the Lord hath sanctified this wilderness for 
 his peculiar people. Woe unto them that would defile 
 it ! And first, for this flower-decked abomination, the 
 altar of thy worship ! " 
 
 And with his keen sword Endicott assaulted the 
 hallowed Maypole. Nor long did it resist his arm. 
 It groaned with a dismal sound ; it showered leaves 
 and rosebuds upon the remorseless enthusiast ; and 
 finally, with all its green boughs and ribbons and 
 flowers, symbolic of departed pleasures, down fell the 
 banner staff of Merry Mount. As it sank, tradition 
 says, the evening sky grew darker, and the woods 
 threw forth a more sombre shadow. 
 
 " There," cried Endicott, looking triumphantly on 
 his work, " there lies the only Maypole in New Eng 
 land ! The thought is strong within me that, by its 
 fall, is shadowed forth the fate of light and idle mirth 
 makers, amongst us and our posterity. Amen, saith 
 John Endicott." 
 
 " Amen ! " echoed his followers. 
 
 But the votaries of the Maypole gave one groan for 
 their idol. At the sound, the Puritan leader glanced 
 at the crew of Comus, each a figure of broad mirth, 
 yet, at this moment, strangely expressive of sorrow 
 and dismay. 
 
 1 Did Governor Endicott speak less positively, we should suspect 
 a mistake here. The Rev. Mr. Blackstone, though an eccentrig, is 
 not known to have been an immoral man. We rather doubt his ideu. 
 tity with the priest of Merry Mount. 
 
THE MAYPOLE OF MERRY MOUNT. 81 
 
 "Valiant captain," quoth Peter Palfrey, the Ancient 
 of the band, "what order shall be taken with the 
 prisoners ? " 
 
 "I thought not to repent me of cutting down a 
 Maypole," replied Endicott, "yet now I could find 
 in my heart to plant it again, and give each of these 
 bestial pagans one other dance round their idol. It 
 would have served rarely for a whipping-post ! " 
 
 " But there are pine-trees enow," suggested the lieu 
 tenant.- 
 
 " True, good Ancient," said the leader. " Where 
 fore, bind the heathen crew, and bestow on them a 
 small matter of stripes apiece, as earnest of our future 
 justice. Set some of the rogues in the stocks to rest 
 themselves, so soon as Providence shall bring us to 
 one of our own well-ordered settlements, where such 
 accommodations may be found. Further penalties, 
 such as branding and cropping of ears, shall be 
 thought of hereafter." 
 
 " How many stripes for the priest?" inquired An 
 cient Palfrey. 
 
 "None as yet," answered Endicott, bending his iron 
 frown upon the culprit. " It must be for the Great 
 and General Court to determine, whether stripes and 
 long imprisonment, and other grievous penalty, may 
 atone for his transgressions. Let him look to him 
 self ! For such as violate our civil order, it may be 
 permitted us to show mercy. But woe to the wretch 
 that troubleth our religion ! " 
 
 " And this dancing bear," resumed the officer. 
 * Must he share the stripes of his fellows ? " 
 
 " Shoot him through the head ! " said the energetic 
 Puritan. "I suspect witchcraft in the beast." 
 
 "Here be a couple of shining ones," continued 
 
82 TWICE-TOLD TALES. 
 
 Peter Palfrey, pointing his weapon at the Lord and 
 Lady of the May. " They seem to be of high station 
 among these misdoers. Methinks their dignity will 
 not be fitted with less than a double share of stripes." 
 
 Endicott rested on his sword, and closely surveyed 
 the dress and aspect of the hapless pair. There they 
 stood, pale, downcast, and apprehensive. Yet there 
 was an air of mutual support, and of pure affection, 
 seeking aid and giving it, that showed them to be 
 man and wife, with the sanction of a priest upon their 
 love. The youth, in the peril of the moment, had 
 dropped his gilded staff, and thrown his arm about 
 the Lady of the May, who leaned against his breast, 
 too lightly to burden him, but with weight enough to 
 express that their destinies were linked together, for 
 good or evil. They looked first at each other, and 
 then into the grim captain s face. There they stood, 
 in the first hour of wedlock, while the idle pleasures, 
 of which their companions were the emblems, had 
 given place to the sternest cares of life, personified 
 by the dark Puritans. But never had their youthful 
 beauty seemed so pure and high as when its glow was 
 chastened by adversity. 
 
 "Youth," said Endicott, "ye stand in an evil case 
 thou and thy maiden wife. Make ready presently, 
 for I am minded that ye shall both have a token to 
 remember your wedding day ! " 
 
 " Stern man," cried the May Lord, " how can I 
 move thee ? Were the means at hand, I would resist 
 to the death. Being powerless, I entreat ! Do with 
 me as thou wilt, but let Edith go untouched ! " 
 
 " Not so," replied the immitigable zealot. " We 
 are not wont to show an idle courtesy to that sex, 
 which requireth the stricter discipline. What sayest 
 
THE MAYPOLE OF MERRY MOUNT. 83 
 
 thou, maid? Shall thy silken bridegroom suffer thy 
 share of the penalty, besides his own ? " 
 
 " Be it death," said Edith, " and lay it all on me ! " 
 
 Truly, as Endicott had said, the poor lovers stood 
 in a woful case. Their foes were triumphant, their 
 friends captive and abased, their home desolate, the 
 benighted wilderness around them, and a rigorous 
 destiny, in the shape of the Puritan leader, their only 
 guide. Yet the deepening twilight could not altogether 
 conceal that the iron man was softened ; he smiled at 
 the fair spectacle of early loye ; he almost sighed for 
 the inevitable blight of early hopes. 
 
 "The troubles of life have come hastily on this 
 young couple," observed Endicott. " We will see how 
 they comport themselves under their present trials ere 
 we burden them with greater. If, among the spoil, 
 there be any garments of a more decent fashion, let 
 them be put upon this May Lord and his Lady, in 
 stead of their glistening vanities. Look to it, some of 
 you." 
 
 "And shall not the youth s hair be cut?" asked 
 Peter Palfrey, looking with abhorrence at the love 
 lock and long glossy curls of the young man. 
 
 " Crop it forthwith, and that in the true pumpkin- 
 shell fashion," answered the captain. " Then bring 
 them along with us, but more gently than their fel- 
 jows. There be qualities in the youth, which may 
 make him valiant to fight, and sober to toil, and pious 
 to pray ; and in the maiden, that may fit her to be 
 come a mother in our Israel, bringing up babes in 
 better nurture than her own hath been. Nor think 
 ye, young ones, that they are the happiest, even in 
 our lifetime of a moment, who misspend it in danc 
 ing round a Maypole 1 " 
 
84 TWICE-TOLD TALES. 
 
 And Endicott, the severest Puritan of all who laid 
 the rock foundation of New England, lifted the wreath 
 of roses from the ruin of the Maypole, and threw it, 
 with his own gauntleted hand, over the heads of the 
 Lord and Lady of the May. It was a deed of proph 
 ecy. As the moral gloom of the world overpowers all 
 systematic gayety, even so was their home of wild mirth 
 made desolate amid the sad forest. They returned to 
 it no more. But as their flowery garland was wreathed 
 of the brightest roses that had grown there, so, in the 
 tie that united them, were intertwined all the purest 
 and best of their early joys. They went heavenward, 
 supporting each other along the difficult path which it 
 was their lot to tread, and never wasted one regretful 
 thought on the vanities of Merry Mount. 
 
THE GENTLE BOY. 
 
 Ix the course of the year 1656, several of the peo 
 ple called Quakers, led, as they professed, by the in 
 ward movement of the spirit, made their appearance 
 in New England. Their reputation, as holders of 
 mystic and pernicious principles, having spread before 
 them, the Puritans early endeavored to banish, and to 
 prevent the further intrusion of the rising sect. But 
 the measures by which it was intended to purge the 
 land of heresy, though more than sufficiently vigorous, 
 were entirely unsuccessful. The Quakers, esteeming 
 persecution as a divine call to the post of danger, laid 
 claim to a holy courage, unknown to the Puritans 
 themselves, who had shunned the cross, by providing 
 for the peaceable exercise of their religion in a distant 
 wilderness. Though it was the singular fact, that 
 every nation of the earth rejected the wandering en 
 thusiasts who practised peace towards all men, the 
 place of greatest uneasiness and peril, and therefore, 
 in their eyes the most eligible, was the province of 
 Massachusetts Bay. 
 
 The fines, imprisonments, and stripes, liberally dis 
 tributed by our pious forefathers ; the popular antip 
 athy, so strong that it endured nearly a hundred years 
 after actual persecution had ceased, were attractions 
 as powerful for the Quakers, as peace, honor, and re 
 ward, would have been for the worldly minded. Every 
 European vessel brought new cargoes of the sect, eager 
 to testify against the oppression which they hoped to 
 
86 TWICE-TOLD TALES. 
 
 share ; and when shipmasters were restrained by heavy 
 fines from affording them passage, they made long 
 and circuitous journeys through the Indian country, 
 and appeared in the province as if conveyed by a 
 supernatural power. Their enthusiasm, heightened al 
 most to madness by the treatment which they received, 
 produced actions contrary to the rules of decency, as 
 well as of rational religion, and presented a singular 
 contrast to the calm and staid deportment of their 
 sectarian successors of the present day. The com 
 mand of the spirit, inaudible except to the soul, and 
 not to be controverted on grounds of human wisdom, 
 was made a plea for most indecorous exhibitions, 
 which, abstractedly considered, well deserved the mod 
 erate chastisement of the rod. These extravagances, 
 and the persecution which was at once their cause and 
 consequence, continued to increase, till, in the year 
 1659, the government of Massachusetts Bay indulged 
 two members of the Quaker sect with the crown of 
 martyrdom. 
 
 An indelible stain of blood is upon the hands of all 
 who consented to this act, but a large share of the aw 
 ful responsibility must rest upon the person then at 
 the head of the government. He was a man of narrow 
 mind and imperfect education, and his uncompromis 
 ing bigotry was made hot and mischievous by violent 
 and hasty passions; he exerted his influence indeco 
 rously and unjustifiably to compass the death of the 
 enthusiasts; and his whole conduct, in respect to them, 
 was marked by brutal cruelty. The Quakers, whose 
 revengeful feelings were not less deep because they 
 were inactive, remembered this man and his associates 
 in after times. The historian of the sect affirms that, 
 by the wrath of Heaven, a blight fell upon the land ID 
 
THE GEXTLE BOY. 87 
 
 the vicinity of the " bloody town " of Boston, so that 
 no wheat would grow there ; and he takes his stand, 
 as it were, among the graves of the ancient persecu 
 tors, and triumphantly recounts the judgments that 
 overtook them, in old age or at the parting hour. He 
 tells us that they died suddenly and violently and in 
 madness ; but nothing can exceed the bitter mockery 
 with which he records the loathsome disease, and 
 "death by rottenness," of the fierce and cruel gov 
 ernor. 
 
 On the evening of the autumn day that had wit 
 nessed the martyrdom of two men of the Quaker 
 persuasion, a Puritan settler was returning from the 
 metropolis to the neighboring country town in which 
 he resided. The air was cool, the sky clear, and the 
 lingering twilight was made brighter by the rays of a 
 young moon, which had now nearly reached the verge 
 of the horizon. The traveller, a man of middle age, 
 wrapped in a gray frieze cloak, quickened his pace 
 when he had reached the outskirts of the town, for a 
 gloomy extent of nearly four miles lay between him 
 and his home. The low, straw-thatched houses were 
 scattered at considerable intervals along the road, and 
 the country having been settled but about thirty years, 
 the tracts of original forest still bore no small pro 
 portion to the cultivated ground. The autumn wind 
 wandered among the branches, whirling away the 
 leaves from all except the pine-trees, and moaning as 
 if it lamented the desolation of which it was the in 
 strument. The road had penetrated the mass of 
 woods that lay nearest to the town, and was just 
 emerging into an open space, when the traveller s ears 
 were saluted by a sound more mournful than even 
 
88 TWICE-TOLD TALES. 
 
 that of the wind. It was like the wailing of some 
 one in distress, and it seemed to proceed from beneath 
 a tall and lonely fir-tree, in the centre of a cleared 
 but uninclosed and uncultivated field. The Puritan 
 could not but remember that this was the very spot 
 which had been made accursed a few hours before by 
 the execution of the Quakers, whose bodies had been 
 thrown together into one hasty grave, beneath the tree 
 on which they suffered. He struggled, however, 
 against the superstitious fears which belonged to the 
 age, and compelled himself to pause and listen. 
 
 " The voice is most likely mortal, nor have I cause 
 to tremble if it be otherwise," thought he, straining 
 his eyes through the dim moonlight. " Methinks it is 
 like the wailing of a child ; some infant, it may be T 
 which has strayed from its mother, and chanced upon 
 this place of death. For the ease of mine own con 
 science I must search this matter out." 
 
 He therefore left the path, and walked somewhat 
 fearfully across the field. Though now so desolate, its 
 soil was pressed down and trampled by the thousand 
 footsteps of those who had witnessed the spectacle of 
 that day, all of whom had now retired, leaving the 
 dead to their loneliness. The traveller at length 
 reached the fir-tree, which from the middle upward 
 was covered with living branches, although a scaffold 
 had been erected beneath, and other preparations 
 made for the work of death. Under this unhappy 
 tree, which in after times was believed to drop poison 
 with its dew, sat the one solitary mourner for innocent 
 blood. It was a slender and light clad little boy, who 
 leaned his face upon a hillock of fresh-turned and 
 half-frozen earth, and wailed bitterly, yet in a sup 
 pressed tone, as if his grief might receive the punish 
 
THE GEXTLE BOY. 89 
 
 ment of crime. The Puritan, whose approach had 
 been unperceived, laid his hand upon the child s 
 shoulder, and addressed him compassionately. 
 
 "You have chosen a dreary lodging, my poor boy, 
 and no wonder that you weep," said he. " But dry 
 your eyes, and tell me where your mother dwells. I 
 promise you, if the journey be not too far, I will leave 
 you in her arms to-night. 
 
 The boy had hushed his wailing at once, and turned 
 his face upward to the stranger. It was a pale, bright- 
 eyed countenance, certainly not more than six years 
 old, but sorrow, fear, and want had destroyed much 
 of its infantile expression. The Puritan seeing the 
 boy s frightened gaze, and feeling that he trembled 
 under his hand, endeavored to reassure him. 
 
 " Nay, if I intended to do you harm, little lad, the 
 readiest way were to leave you here. What ! you do 
 not fear to sit beneath the gallows on a new-made 
 grave, and yet you tremble at a friend s touch. Take 
 heart, child, and tell rue what is your name and where 
 is your home? " 
 
 44 Friend," replied the little boy, in a sweet though 
 faltering voice, k * they call me Ilbraliim, and my home 
 is here." 
 
 The pale, spiritual face, the eyes that seemed to 
 mingle with the moonlight, the sweet, airy voice, and 
 the outlandish name, almost made the Puritan believe 
 that the boy was in truth a being which had sprung 
 up out of the grave on which he sat. But perceiving 
 that the apparition stood the test of a short mental 
 prayer, and remembering that the arm which he had 
 touched was lifelike, he adopted a more rational sup 
 position. k The poor child is stricken in his intellect, 
 thought he, 4 * but verily his words are fearful in a 
 
90 TWICE-TOLD TALES. 
 
 place like this." He then spoke soothingly, intending 
 to humor the boy s fantasy. 
 
 " Your home will scarce be comfortable, Ilbrahim, 
 this cold autumn night, and I fear you are ill-provided 
 with food. I am hastening to a warm supper and bed, 
 and if you will go with me you shall share them ! " 
 
 " I thank thee, friend, but though I be hungry, and 
 shivering with cold, thou wilt not give me food nor 
 lodging," replied the boy, in the quiet tone which 
 despair had taught him, even so young. " My father 
 was of the people whom all men hate. They have laid 
 him under this heap of earth, and here is my home." 
 
 The Puritan, who had laid hold of little Ilbrahim s 
 hand, relinquished it as if he were touching a loath 
 some reptile. But he possessed a compassionate heart, 
 which not even religious prejudice could harden into 
 stone. 
 
 " God forbid that I should leave this child to per 
 ish, though he comes of the accursed sect," said he to 
 himself. " Do we not all spring from an evil root? 
 Are we not all in darkness till the light doth shine 
 upon us ? He shall not perish, neither in body, nor, 
 if prayer and instruction may avail for him, in soul." 
 He then spoke aloud and kindly to Ilbrahim, who had 
 again hid his face in the cold earth of the grave. 
 " Was every door in the land shut against you, my 
 child, that you have wandered to this unhallowed 
 spot?" 
 
 " They drove me forth from the prison when they 
 took my father thence," said the boy, " and I stood 
 afar off watching the crowd of people, and when they 
 were gone I came hither, and found only his grave. 
 I knew that my father was sleeping here, and I said 
 this shall be my home." 
 
THE GEXTLE BOY. 91 
 
 No. child, no : not while I have a roof over my 
 head, or a morsel to share with you ! " exclaimed the 
 Puritan, whose sympathies were now fully excited. 
 44 Rise up and come with me, and fear not any harm." 
 
 The boy wept afresh, and clung to the heap of 
 earth as if the cold heart beneath it were wanner tc 
 him than any in a living breast. The traveller, how 
 ever, continued to entreat him tenderlv. and seeming 
 to acquire some degree of confidence, he at lemrth 
 arose. But his slender limbs tottered with weakness, 
 his little head grew dizzy, and he leaned against the 
 tree of death for support. 
 
 - My poor boy. are you so feeble ? "* said the Puri 
 tan. * When did you taste food last ? " 
 
 " I ate of bread and water with my father in the 
 prison." replied Ilbrahim. " but they brought him none 
 neither yesterday nor to-day, saying that he had eaten 
 enough to bear him to his journey s end. Trouble not 
 thyself for my hunger, kind friend, for I have lacked 
 food many times ere now." 
 
 The traveller took the child in his arms and wrapped 
 his cloak about him, while his heart stirred with shame 
 and anger against the gratuitous cruelty of the instru 
 ments in this persecution. In the awakened warmth 
 of his feelings he resolved that, at whatever risk, he 
 would not forsake the poor little defenceless being 
 whom Heaven had confided to his care. With this 
 determination he left the accursed field, and resumed 
 the homeward path from which the wailing of the boy 
 had called him. The light and motionless burden 
 scarcely impeded his progress, and he soon beheld the 
 fire rays from the windows of the cottage which he. a 
 native of a distant clime, had built in the western wil 
 derness. It was surrounded bv a considerable extent 
 
92 TWICE-TOLD TALKS. 
 
 of cultivated ground, and the dwelling was situated in 
 the nook of a wood-covered hill, whither it seemed to 
 have crept for protection. 
 
 "Look up, child," said the Puritan to Ilbrahim, 
 whose faint head had sunk upon his shoulder, " there 
 is our home." 
 
 At the word "home," a thrill passed through the 
 child s frame, but he continued silent. A few moments 
 brought them to a cottage door, at which the owner 
 knocked ; for at that early period, when savages were 
 wandering everywhere among the settlers, bolt and 
 bar were indispensable to the security of a dwelling. 
 The summons was answered by a bond-servant, a 
 coarse-clad and dull-featured piece of humanity, who. 
 after ascertaining that his master was the applicant, 
 Amdid the door, and held a flaring pine-knot torch to 
 light him in. Farther back in the passage-way, the 
 red blaze discovered a matronly woman, but no little 
 crowd of children came bounding forth to greet their 
 father s return. As the Puritan entered, he thrust 
 aside his cloak, and displayed Ilbrahim s face to the 
 female. 
 
 " Dorothy, here is a little outcast, whom Providence 
 hath put into our hands," observed he. " Be kind to 
 him, even as if he were of those deaf ones who have 
 departed from us." 
 
 " What pale and bright-eyed little boy is this, To 
 bias? " she inquired. " Is he one whom the wilderness 
 folk have ravished from some Christian mother ? " 
 
 "No, Dorothy, this poor child is no captive from 
 the wilderness," he replied. "The heathen savage 
 would have given him to eat of his scanty morsel, and 
 to drink of his birchen cup ; but Christian men, alas! 
 had cast him out to die." 
 
THE GENTLE BOY. 93 
 
 Then he told her how he had found him beneath 
 the gallows, upon his father s grave ; and how his 
 heart had prompted him, like the speaking of an in 
 ward voice, to take the little outcast home, and be 
 kind unto him. He acknowledged his resolution to 
 feed and clothe him, as if he were his own child, and 
 to afford him the instruction which should counteract 
 the pernicious errors hitherto instilled into his infant 
 mind. Dorothy was gifted with even a quicker ten 
 derness than her husband, and she approved of all his 
 doings and intentions. 
 
 " Have you a mother, dear child ? " she inquired. 
 
 The tears burst forth from his full heart, as he at 
 tempted to reply ; but Dorothy at length understood 
 that he had a mother, who, like the rest of her sect, 
 was a persecuted wanderer. She had been taken from 
 the prison a short time before, carried into the unin 
 habited wilderness, and left to perish there by hunger 
 or wild beasts. This was no uncommon method of 
 disposing of the Quakers, and they were accustomed 
 to boast that the inhabitants of the desert were more 
 hospitable to them than civilized man. 
 
 " Fear not, little boy, you shall not need a mother, 
 and a kind one," said Dorothy, when she had gathered 
 this information. " Dry your tears, Ilbrahim, and be 
 my child, as I will be your mother." 
 
 The good woman prepared the little bed, from 
 which her own children had successively been borne to 
 another resting-place. Before Ilbrahim would consent 
 to occupy it, he knelt down, and as Dorothy listened 
 to his simple and affecting prayer, she marvelled how 
 the parents that had taught it to him could have been 
 mdged worthy of death. When the boy had fallen 
 asleep, she bent over his pale and spiritual counte- 
 
94 TWICE-TOLD TALES. 
 
 nance, pressed a kiss upon his white brow, drew the 
 bedclothes up about his neck, and went away with a 
 pensive gladness in her heart. 
 
 Tobias Pearson was not among the earliest emi 
 grants from the old country. He had remained in 
 England during the first years of the civil war, in 
 which he had borne some share as a cornet of dra 
 goons, under Cromwell. But when the ambitious de 
 signs of his leader began to develop themselves, he 
 quitted the army of the Parliament, and sought a ref 
 uge from the strife, which was no longer holy, among 
 the people of his persuasion in the colony of Massa 
 chusetts. A more worldly consideration had perhaps 
 an influence in drawing him thither ; for New England 
 offered advantages to men of unprosperous fortunes, 
 as well as to dissatisfied religionists, and Pearson had 
 hitherto found it difficult to provide for a wife and in 
 creasing family. To this supposed impurity of motive 
 the more bigoted Puritans were inclined to impute the 
 removal by death of all the children, for whose earthly 
 good the father had been over-thoughtful. They had 
 left their native country blooming like roses, and like 
 roses they had perished in a foreign soil. Those ex 
 pounders of the ways of Providence, who had thus 
 judged their brother, and attributed his domestic sor 
 rows to his sin, were not more charitable when they 
 saw him and Dorothy endeavoring to fill up the void 
 in their hearts by the adoption of an infant of the 
 accursed sect. Nor did they fail to communicate 
 their disapprobation to Tobias ; but the latter, in re 
 ply, merely pointed at the little, quiet, lovely boy, 
 whose appearance and deportment were indeed as pow 
 erful arguments as could possibly have been adduced 
 in his own favor. Even his beauty, however, and his 
 
THE GENTLE BOY. 95 
 
 winning manners, sometimes produced an effect ulti 
 mately unfavorable ; for the bigots, when the outer 
 surfaces of their iron hearts had been softened and 
 again grew hard, affirmed that no merely natural 
 cause could have so worked upon them. 
 
 Their antipathy to the poor infant was also in 
 creased by the ill success of divers theological discus 
 sions, in which it was attempted to convince him of 
 the errors of his sect. Ilbrahim, it is true, was not a 
 skilful controversialist ; but the feeling of his religion 
 was strong as instinct in him, and he could neither be 
 enticed nor driven from the faith which his father had 
 died for. The odium of this stubbornness was shared 
 in a great measure by the child s protectors, insomuch 
 that Tobias and Dorothy very shortly began to expe 
 rience a most bitter species of persecution, in the cold 
 regards of many a friend whom they had valued. The 
 common people manifested their opinions more openly. 
 Pearson was a man of some consideration, being a 
 representative to the General Court, and an approved 
 lieutenant in the trainbands, yet within a week after 
 his adoption of Ilbrahim he had been both hissed and 
 hooted. Once, also, when walking through a solitary 
 piece of woods, he heard a loud voice from some in 
 visible speaker ; and it cried, " What shall be done to 
 the backslider ? Lo ! the scourge is knotted for him, 
 even the whip of nine cords, and every cord three 
 knots ! " These insults irritated Pearson s temper for 
 the moment ; they entered also into his heart, and be 
 came imperceptible but powerful workers towards an 
 end w r hich his most secret thought had not yet whis 
 pered. 
 
 On the second Sabbath after Ilbrahim became a 
 
96 TWICE-TOLD TALES. 
 
 member of their family, Pearson and his wife deemed 
 it proper that he should appear with them at public 
 worship. They had anticipated some opposition to 
 this measure from the boy, but he prepared himself 
 in silence, and at the appointed hour was clad in the 
 new mourning suit which Dorothy had wrought for 
 him. As the parish was then, and during many sub 
 sequent years, unprovided with a bell, the signal for 
 the commencement of religious exercises was the beat 
 of a drum. At the first sound of that martial call 
 to the place of holy and quiet thoughts, Tobias and 
 Dorothy set forth, each holding a hand of little Ilbra- 
 him, like two parents linked together by the infant of 
 their love. On their path through the leafless woods 
 they were overtaken by many persons of their ac 
 quaintance, all of whom avoided them, and passed by 
 on the other side ; but a severer trial awaited their 
 constancy when they had descended the hill, and drew 
 near the pine-built and undecorated house of prayer. 
 Around the door, from which the drummer still sent 
 forth his thundering summons, was drawn up a for 
 midable phalanx, including several of the oldest mem 
 bers of the congregation, many of the middle aged, 
 and nearly all the younger males. Pearson found 
 it difficult to sustain their united and disapproving 
 gaze, but Dorothy, whose mind was differently circum 
 stanced, merely drew the boy closer to her, and fal 
 tered not in her approach. As they entered the door, 
 they overheard the muttered sentiments of the assem 
 blage, and when the reviling voices of the little chil 
 dren smote Ilbrahim s ear, he wept. 
 
 The interior aspect of the meeting-house was rude. 
 The low ceiling, the unplastered walls, the naked 
 wood work, and the undraperied pulpit, offered noth- 
 
THE GENTLE BOY. 97 
 
 ing to excite the devotion, which, without such exter 
 nal aids, often remains latent in the heart. The floor 
 of the building was occupied by rows of long, cushion- 
 less benches, supplying the place of pews, and the 
 broad aisle formed a sexual division, impassable ex 
 cept by children beneath a certain age. 
 
 Pearson and Dorothy separated at the door of the 
 meeting-house, and Ilbrahim, being within the years 
 of infancy, was retained under the care of the latter. 
 The wrinkled beldams involved themselves in their 
 rust} cloaks as he passed by ; even the mild-featured 
 maidens seemed to dread contamination ; and many 
 a stern old man arose, and turned his repulsive and 
 unheavenly countenance upon the gentle boy, as if the 
 sanctuary were polluted by his presence. He was a 
 sweet infant of the skies that had strayed away from 
 his home, and all the inhabitants of this miserable 
 world closed up their impure hearts against him, drew 
 back their earth-soiled garments from his touch, and 
 said, " We are holier than thou. 
 
 Ilbrahim, seated by the side of his adopted mother, 
 and retaining fast hold of her hand, assumed a grave 
 and decorous demeanor, such as might befit a person 
 of matured taste and understanding, who should find 
 himself in a temple dedicated "to some worship which 
 he did not recognize, but felt himself bound to respect. 
 The exercises had not yet commenced, however, when 
 the boy s attention was arrested by an event, appar 
 ently of trifling interest. A woman, having her face 
 muffled in a hood, and a cloak drawn completely about 
 her form, advanced slowly up the broad aisle and took 
 a place upon the foremost bench. Ilbrahim s faint 
 color varied, his nerves fluttered, he was unable to 
 turn his eves from the muffled female. 
 
98 TWICE-TOLD TALES. 
 
 When the preliminary prayer and hymn were over, 
 the minister arose, and having turned the hour-glass 
 which stood by the great Bible, commenced his dis 
 course. He was now well stricken in years, a man of 
 pale, thin countenance, and his gray hairs were closely 
 covered by a black velvet skullcap. In his younger 
 days he had practically learned the meaning of perse 
 cution from Archbishop Laud, and he was not now 
 disposed to forget the lesson against which he had 
 murmured then. Introducing the often discussed sub 
 ject of the Quakers, he gave a history of that sect, and 
 a description of their tenets, in which error predomi 
 nated, and prejudice distorted the aspect of what was 
 true. He adverted to the recent measures in the prov 
 ince, and cautioned his hearers of weaker parts against 
 calling in question the just severity which God-fear 
 ing magistrates had at length been compelled to exer 
 cise. He spoke of the danger of pity, in some cases a 
 commendable and Christian virtue, but inapplicable to 
 this pernicious sect. He observed that such was their 
 devilish obstinacy in error, that even the little chil 
 dren, the sucking babes, were hardened and desperate 
 heretics. He affirmed that no man, without Heaven s 
 especial warrant, should attempt their conversion, lest 
 while he lent his hand to draw them from the slough, 
 he should himself be precipitated into its lowest 
 depths. 
 
 The sands of the second hour were principally in 
 the lower half of the glass when the sermon concluded. 
 An approving murmur followed, and the clergyman, 
 having given out a hymn, took his seat with much 
 self-congratulation, and endeavored to read the effect 
 of his eloquence in the visages of the people. I^ut 
 while voices from all parts of the house were tuning 
 
THE GENTLE BOY. 99 
 
 themselves to sing, a scene occurred, which, though 
 not very unusual at that period in the province, hap 
 pened to be without precedent in this parish. 
 
 The muffled female, who had hitherto sat motionless 
 in the front rank of the audience, now arose, and with 
 slow, stately, and unwavering step, ascended the pul 
 pit stairs. The quiver Lags of incipient harmony were 
 hushed, and the divine sat in speechless and almost 
 terrified astonishment, while she undid the door, and 
 stood up in the sacred desk from which his maledic 
 tions had just been thundered. She then divested her 
 self of the cloak and hood, and appeared in a most 
 singular array. A shapeless robe of sackcloth was 
 girded about her waist with a knotted cord ; her raven 
 hair fell down upon her shoulders, and its blackness 
 was defiled by pale streaks of ashes, which she had 
 strown upon her head. Her eyebrows, dark and 
 strongly defined, added to the deathly whiteness of a 
 countenance, which, emaciated with want, and wild 
 with enthusiasm and strange sorrows, retained no trace 
 of earlier beauty. This figure stood gazing earnestly 
 on the audience, and there was no sound, nor any 
 movement, except a faint shuddering which every man 
 observed in his neighbor, but was scarcely conscious 
 of in himself. At length, when her fit of inspiration 
 came, she spoke, for the first few moments, in a low 
 voice, and not invariably distinct utterance. Her dis 
 course gave evidence of an imagination hopelessly 
 entangled with her reason; it was a vague and in 
 comprehensible rhapsody, which, however, seemed to 
 spread its own atmosphere round the hearer s soul, 
 and to move his feelings by some influence uncon 
 nected with the words. As she proceeded, beautiful 
 but shadowy images would sometimes be seen, like 
 
100 TWICE-TOLD TALES. 
 
 bright things moving in a turbid river ; or a strong 
 and sinsrularly-shaped idea leaped forth, and seized 
 at once on the understanding or the heart. But the 
 course of her unearthly eloquence soon led her to the 
 persecutions of her sect, and from thence the step was 
 short to her own peculiar sorrows. She was naturally 
 a woman of mighty passions, and hatred and revenge 
 now wrapped themselves in the garb of piety; the 
 character of her speech was changed, her images be 
 came distinct though wild, and her denunciations had 
 an almost hellish bitterness. 
 
 The Governor and his mighty men," she said, 
 " have gathered together, taking counsel among them 
 selves and saying, What shall we do unto this people 
 even unto the people that have come into this land 
 to put our iniquity to the blush ? ? And lo ! the devil 
 entereth into the council chamber, like a lame man of 
 low stature and gravely apparelled, with a dark and 
 twisted countenance, and a bright, downcast eye. And 
 he standeth up among the rulers : yea, he goeth to and 
 fro. whispering to each ; and every man lends his ear, 
 for his word is * Slay, slay ! But I say unto ye, 
 Woe to them that slay ! Woe to them that shed the 
 blood of saints ! Woe to them that have slain the 
 husband, and cast forth the child, the tender infant, 
 to wander homeless and hungry and cold, till he die ; 
 and have saved the mother alive, in the cruelty of their 
 tender mercies ! Woe to them in their lifetime ! cursed 
 are they in the delight and pleasure of their hearts I 
 Woe to them in their death hour, whether it come 
 swiftly with blood and violence, or after long and 
 lingering pain ! Woe. in the dark house, in the rot 
 tenness of the grave, when the children s children shall 
 revile the ashes of the fathers ! Woe, woe, woo, ai 
 
THE GENTLE BOY. 101 
 
 the judgment, when all the persecuted and all the slain 
 in this bloody land, and the father, the mother, and 
 the child, shall await them in a day that they cannot 
 escape ! Seed of the faith, seed of the faith, ye whose 
 hearts are moving with a power that ye know not, 
 arise, wash TOUT hands of this innocent blood ! Lift 
 your voices, chosen ones ; cry aloud, and call down a 
 woe and a judgment with me ! 
 
 Having thus given vent to the flood of malignity 
 which she mistook for inspiration, the speaker was 
 silent. Her voice was succeeded by the hysteric shrieks 
 of several women, but the feelings of the audience gen 
 erally had not been drawn onward in the current with 
 her own. They remained stupefied, stranded as it 
 were, in the midst of a torrent, which deafened them 
 by its roaring, but might not move them by its vio 
 lence. The clergyman, who could not hitherto have 
 ejected the usurper of his pulpit otherwise than by 
 bodily force, now addressed her in the tone of just in 
 dignation and legitimate authority. 
 
 " Get you down, woman, from the holy place which 
 you profane." he said. "Is it to the Lord s house 
 that you come to pour forth the foulness of your heart 
 and the inspiration of the devil ? Get you down, 
 and remember that the sentence of death is on you ; 
 yea, and shall be executed, were it but for this day s 
 work ! " 
 
 " I go, friend. I go, for the voice hath had its utter 
 ance," replied she, in a depressed and even mild tone. 
 u I have done my mission unto thee and to thy people. 
 Reward me with stripes, imprisonment, or death, as ye 
 shall be permitted." 
 
 The weakness of exhausted passion caused her steps 
 to totter as she descended the pulpit stairs. The peo- 
 
102 TWICE-TOLD TALES. 
 
 pie, in the mean while, were stirring to and fro on the 
 floor of the house, whispering among themselves, and 
 glancing towards the intruder. Many of them now 
 recognized her as the woman who had assaulted the 
 Governor with frightful language as he passed by the 
 window of her prison ; they knew, also, that she was 
 adjudged to suffer death, and had been preserved only 
 by an involuntary banishment into the wilderness. 
 The new outrage, by which she had provoked her fate, 
 seemed to render further lenity impossible ; and a gen 
 tleman in military dress, with a stout man of inferior 
 rank, drew towards the door of the meeting-house, and 
 awaited her approach. 
 
 Scarcely did her feet press the floor, however, when 
 an unexpected scene occurred. In that moment of 
 her peril, when every eye frowned with death, a little 
 timid boy pressed forth, and threw his arms round his 
 mother. 
 
 " I am here, mother ; it is I, and I will go with thee 
 to prison," he exclaimed. 
 
 She gazed at him with a doubtful and almost fright 
 ened expression, for she knew that the boy had been 
 cast out to perish, and she had not hoped to see his 
 face again. She feared, perhaps, that it was but one 
 of the happy visions with which her excited fancy had 
 often deceived her, in the solitude of the desert or in 
 prison. But when she felt his hand warm within her 
 own, and heard his little eloquence of childish love, 
 she began to know that she was yet a mother. 
 
 " Blessed art thou, my son," she sobbed. " My heart 
 was withered ; yea, dead with thee and with thy father ; 
 and now it leaps as in the first moment when I pressed 
 thee to my bosom." . v <. 
 
 She knelt down and embraced him again and again, 
 
THE GENTLE BOY. 103 
 
 vhile the joy that could find no words expressed itself 
 in broken accents, like the bubbles gushing up to van 
 ish at the surface of a deep fountain. The sorrows of 
 past years, and the darker peril that was nigh, cast 
 not a shadow on the brightness of that fleeting mo 
 ment. Soon, however, the spectators saw a change 
 upon her face, as the consciousness of her sad estate 
 returned, and grief supplied the fount of tears which 
 joy had opened. By the words she uttered, it would 
 seem that the indulgence of natural love had given her 
 mind a momentary sense of its errors, and made her 
 know how far she had strayed from duty in following 
 the dictates of a wild fanaticism. 
 
 " In a doleful hour art thou returned to me, poor 
 boy," she said, " for thy mother s path has gone dark 
 ening onward, till now the end is death. Son, son, I 
 have borne thee in my arms when my limbs were tot 
 tering, and I have fed thee with the food that I was 
 fainting for ; yet I have ill performed a mother s part 
 by thee in life, and now I leave thee no inheritance but 
 woe and shame. Thou wilt go seeking through the 
 world, and find all hearts closed against thee and their 
 sweet affections turned to bitterness for my sake. My 
 child, my child, how many a pang awaits thy gentle 
 spirit, and I the cause of all ! 
 
 She hid her face on Ilbrahim s head, and her long, 
 raven hair, discolored with the ashes of her mourning, 
 fell down about him like a veil. A low and inter 
 rupted moan was the voice of her heart s anguish, and 
 it did not fail to move the sympathies of many who 
 mistook their involuntary virtue for a sin. Sobs were 
 audible in the female section of the house, and every 
 man who was a father drew his hand across his eyes. 
 Tobias Pearson was agitated and uneasy, but a certain 
 
104 TWICE-TOLD TALES. 
 
 feeling like the consciousness of guilt oppressed him, 
 so that he could not go forth and offer himself as the 
 protector of the child. Dorothy, however, had watched 
 her husband s eye. Her mind was free from the in 
 fluence that had begun to work on his, and she drew 
 near the Quaker woman, and addressed her in the 
 hearing of all the congregation. 
 
 " Stranger, trust this boy to me, and I will be his 
 mother," she said, taking Ilbrahim s hand. "Provi 
 dence has signally marked out my husband to protect 
 him, and he has fed at our table and lodged under 
 our roof now many days, till our hearts have grown 
 very strongly unto him. Leave the tender child with 
 us, and be at ease concerning his welfare." 
 
 The Quaker rose from the ground, but drew the boy 
 closer to her, while she gazed earnestly in Dorothy s 
 face. Her mild but saddened features, and neat ma 
 tronly attire, harmonized together, and were like a 
 verse of fireside poetry. Her very aspect proved that 
 she was blameless, so far as mortal could be so, in re 
 spect to God and man ; while the enthusiast, in her 
 robe of sackcloth and girdle of knotted cord, had as 
 evidently violated the duties of the present life and 
 the future, by fixing her attention wholly on the latter. 
 The two females, as they held each a hand of Ilbrahim, 
 formed a practical allegory ; it was rational piety and 
 unbridled fanaticism contending for the empire of a 
 young heart. 
 
 "Thou art not of our people," said the Quaker, 
 mournfully. 
 
 " No, we are not of your people," replied Dorothy, 
 with mildness, " but we are Christians, looking up 
 ward to the same heaven with you. Doubt not that 
 your boy shall meet you there, if there be a blessing 
 
THE GENTLE BOY. 105 
 
 on our tender and prayerful guidance of him. Thither, 
 I trust, my own children have gone before me, for I 
 also have been a mother ; I am no longer so," she 
 added, in a faltering tone, " and your son will have all 
 
 my care." 
 
 " But will ye lead him in the path which his parents 
 have trodden ? " demanded the Quaker. " Can ye 
 teach him the enlightened faith which his father has 
 died for, and for which I, even I, am soon to become 
 an unworthy martyr ? The boy has been baptized in 
 blood ; will ye keep the mark fresh and ruddy upon 
 his forehead ? " 
 
 4 * I will not deceive you," answered Dorothy. " If 
 your child become our child, we must breed him up in 
 the instruction which Heaven has imparted to us : we 
 must pray for him the prayers of our own faith ; we 
 must do towards him according to the dictates of our 
 own consciences, and not of yours. AVere we to act 
 otherwise, we should abuse your trust, even in comply 
 ing with your wishes." 
 
 The mother looked down upon her boy with a 
 troubled countenance, and then turned her eyes up 
 ward to heaven. She seemed to pray internally, and 
 the contention of her soul was evident. 
 
 " Friend," she said at length to Dorothy, u I doubt 
 not that my son shall receive all earthly tenderness at 
 thy hands. Nay, I will believe that even thy imper 
 fect lights may guide him to a better world, for surely 
 thou art on the path thither. But thou hast spoken 
 of a husband. Doth he stand here among this mul 
 titude of people? Let him come forth, for I must 
 know to whom I commit this most precious trust." 
 
 She turned her face upon the male auditors, and 
 after a momentary delay, Tobias Pearson came forth 
 
106 TWICE-TOLD TALES. 
 
 from among them. The Quaker saw the dress which 
 marked his military rank, and shook her head ; but 
 then she noted the hesitating air, the eyes that strug 
 gled with her own, and were vanquished; the color 
 that went and came, and could find no resting-place. 
 As she gazed, an unmirthful smile spread over her 
 features, like sunshine that grows melancholy in some 
 desolate spot. Her lips moved inaudibly, but at length 
 she spake. 
 
 "I hear it, I hear it. The voice speaketh within 
 me and saith, Leave thy child, Catharine, for his 
 place is here, and go hence, for I have other work for 
 thee. Break the bonds of natural affection, martyr 
 thy love, and know that in all these things eternal 
 wisdom hath its ends. I go, friends ; I go. Take ye 
 my boy, my precious jewel. I go hence, trusting that 
 all shall be well, and that even for his infant hands 
 there is a labor in the vineyard." 
 
 She knelt down and whispered to Ilbrahim, who at 
 first struggled and clung to his mother, with sobs and 
 tears, but remained passive when she had kissed his 
 cheek and arisen from the ground. Having held her 
 hands over his head in mental prayer, she was ready 
 to depart. 
 
 " Farewell., friends in mine extremity," she said to 
 Pearson and his wife ; " the good deed ye have done 
 me is a treasure laid up in heaven, to be returned a 
 thousand-fold hereafter. And farewell ye, mine ene 
 mies, to whom it is not permitted to harm so much as 
 a hair of my head, nor to stay my footsteps even for 
 a moment. The day is coming when ye shall call 
 upon me to witness for ye to this one sin uncommitted, 
 and I will rise up and answer." 
 
 She turned her steps towards the door, and the 
 
THE GENTLE BOY. 107 
 
 who had stationed themselves to guard it, withdrew, 
 and suffered her to pass. A general sentiment of pity 
 overcame the virulence of religious hatred. Sancti 
 fied by her love and her affliction, she went forth, and 
 all the people gazed after her till she had journeyed 
 up the hill, and was lost behind its brow. She went, 
 the apostle of her own unquiet heart, to renew the 
 wanderings of past } T ears. For her voice had been 
 already heard in many lands of Christendom ; and she 
 had pined in the cells of a Catholic Inquisition before 
 she felt the lash and lay in the dungeons of the Puri 
 tans. Her mission had extended also to the followers 
 of the Prophet, and from them she had received the 
 courtesy and kindness which all the contending sects 
 of our purer religion united to deny her. Her hus 
 band and herself had resided many months in Turkey, 
 where even the Sultan s countenance was gracious to 
 them ; in that pagan land, too, was Ilbrahinvs birth 
 place, and his oriental name was a mark of gratitude 
 for the good deeds of an unbeliever. 
 
 When Pearson and his wife had thus acquired all 
 the rights over Ilbrahim that coidd be delegated, their 
 affection for him became like the memory of their 
 native land, or their mild sorrow for the dead, a piece 
 of the immovable furniture of their hearts. The boy, 
 also, after a week or two of mental disquiet, began to 
 gratify his protectors by many inadvertent proofs that 
 he considered them as parents, and their house as 
 home. Before the winter snows were melted, the per 
 secuted infant, the little wanderer from a remote and 
 heathen country, seemed native in the New England 
 pottage, and inseparable from the warmth and security 
 of its hearth. Under the influence of kind treatment, 
 
108 TWICE-TOLD TALES. 
 
 and in the consciousness that he was loved, Ilbrahim s 
 demeanor lost a premature manliness, which had re 
 sulted from his earlier situation; he became more 
 childlike, and his natural character displayed itself 
 with freedom. It was in many respects a beautiful 
 one, yet the disordered imaginations of both his father 
 and mother had perhaps propagated a certain un- 
 healthiness in the mind of the boy. In his genera] 
 state, Ilbrahim would derive enjoyment from the most 
 trifling events, and from every object about him ; he 
 seemed to discover rich treasures of happiness, by a 
 faculty analogous to that of the witch hazel, which 
 points to hidden gold where all is barren to the eye. 
 His airy gayety, coming to him from a thousand 
 sources, communicated itself to the family, and Ilbra 
 him was like a domesticated sunbeam, brightening 
 moody countenances, and chasing away the gloom 
 from the dark corners of the cottage. 
 
 On the other hand, as the susceptibility of pleasure 
 is also that of pain, the exuberant cheerfulness of the 
 boy s prevailing temper sometimes yielded to moments 
 of deep depression. His sorrows could not always be 
 followed up to their original source, but most fre 
 quently they appeared to flow, though Ilbrahim was 
 young to be sad for such a cause, from wounded love. 
 The flightiness of his mirth rendered him often guilty 
 of offences against the decorum of a Puritan house 
 hold, and on these occasions he did not invariably 
 escape rebuke. But the slightest word of real bitter 
 ness, which he was infallible in distinguishing from 
 pretended anger, seemed to sink into his heart and 
 poison all his enjoyments, till he became sensible thai 
 he was entirely forgiven. Of the malice, which gen 
 erally accompanies a superfluity of sensitiveness, libra 
 
THE GENTLE BOY. 109 
 
 him was altogether destitute : when trodden upon, he 
 would not turn; when wounded, he could but die. 
 His mind was wanting in the stamina for self-support ; 
 it was a plant that would twine beautifully round 
 something stronger than itself, but if repulsed, or torn 
 away, it had no choice but to wither on the ground. 
 Dorothy s acuteness taught her that severity would 
 crush the spirit of the child, and she nurtured him 
 with the gentle care of one who handles a butterfly. 
 Her husband manifested an equal affection, although 
 it grew daily less productive of familiar caresses. 
 
 The feelings of the neighboring people, in regard to 
 the Quaker infant and his protectors, had not under 
 gone a favorable change, in spite of the momentary 
 triumph which the desolate mother had obtained over 
 their sympathies. The scorn and bitterness, of which 
 he was the object, were very grievous to Ilbrahim, es 
 pecially when any circumstance made him sensible 
 that the children, his equals in age, partook of the 
 enmity of their parents. His tender and social nature 
 had already overflowed in attachments to everything 
 about him., and still there was a residue of unappro 
 priated love, which he yearned to bestow upon the 
 little ones who were taught to hate him. As the warm 
 days of spring came on, Ilbrahim was accustomed to 
 remain for hours, silent and inactive, within hearing 
 of the children s voices at their play ; yet, with his 
 usual delicacy of feeling, he avoided their notice, and 
 would flee and hide himself from the smallest individ 
 ual among them. Chance, however, at length seemed 
 to open a medium of communication between his heart 
 and theirs ; it was by means of a boy about two years 
 older than Ilbrahim, who was injured by a fall from 
 A tree in the vicinity of Pearson s habitation. As the 
 
110 TWICE-TOLD TALES. 
 
 sufferer s own home was at some distance, Dorothy 
 willingly received him under her roof, and became his 
 tender and careful nurse. 
 
 Ilbrahim was the unconscious possessor of much 
 skill in physiognomy, and it would have deterred him, 
 in other circumstances, from attempting to make a 
 friend of this boy. The countenance of the latter im 
 mediately impressed a beholder disagreeably, but it 
 required some examination to discover that the cause 
 was a very slight distortion of the mouth, and the ir 
 regular, broken line, and near approach of the eye 
 brows. Analogous, perhaps, to these trifling deformi 
 ties, was an almost imperceptible twist of every joint, 
 and the uneven prominence of the breast : forming a 
 body, regular in its general outline, but faulty in al 
 most all its details. The disposition of the boy was 
 sullen and reserved, and the village schoolmaster stig 
 matized him as obtuse in intellect ; although, at a 
 later period of life, he evinced ambition and very pe 
 culiar talents. But whatever might be his personal 
 or moral irregularities, Ilbrahim s heart seized upon, 
 and clung to him, from the moment that he was 
 brought wounded into the cottage ; the child of perse 
 cution seemed to compare his own fate with that of 
 the sufferer, and to feel that even different modes of 
 misfortune had created a sort of relationship between 
 them. Food, rest, and the fresh air, for which he lan 
 guished, were neglected ; he nestled continually by the 
 bedside of the little stranger, and, with a fond jeal 
 ousy, endeavored to be the medium of all the cares 
 that were bestowed upon him. As the boy became 
 convalescent, Ilbrahim contrived games suitable to 
 his situation, or amused him by a faculty which he 
 had perhaps breathed in with the air of his barbaric 
 
THE GEXTLE BOY. Ill 
 
 birthplace. It was that of reciting imaginary ad ven 
 tures, T>n the spur of the moment, and apparently in 
 inexhaustible succession. His tales were of course 
 monstrous, disjointed, and without aim ; but they were 
 curious on account of a vein of human tenderness 
 which ran through them all, and was like a sweet, 
 familiar face, encountered in the midst of wild and 
 unearthly scenery. The auditor paid much attention 
 to these romances, and sometimes interrupted them by 
 brief remarks upon the incidents, displaying shrewd 
 ness above his years, mingled with a moral obliquity 
 which grated very harshly against Ilbrahinr s instinc 
 tive rectitude. Nothing, however, coidd arrest the 
 progress of the latter s affection, and there were many 
 proofs that it met with a response from the dark and 
 stubborn nature on which it was lavished. The boy s 
 parents at length removed him, to complete his cure 
 under their own roof. 
 
 Ilbrahim did not visit lu s new friend after his de 
 parture ; but he made anxious and continual inquiries 
 respecting him, and informed himself of the day when 
 he was to reappear among his playmates. On a pleas 
 ant summer afternoon, the children of the neighbor 
 hood had assembled in the little forest-crowned amphi 
 theatre behind the meeting-house, and the recovering 
 invalid was there, leaning on a staff. The glee of a 
 score of untainted bosoms was heard in light and airy 
 voices, which danced among the trees like sunshine 
 become audible ; the grown men of this weary world, 
 as they journeyed by the spot, marvelled why life, be 
 ginning in such brightness, should proceed in gloom ; 
 and their hearts, or their imaginations, answered them 
 and said, that the bliss of childhood giishes from its 
 innocence. But it happened that an unexpected addi- 
 
112 TWICE-TOLD TALES. 
 
 tion was made to the heavenly little band. It was 
 Ilbrahim, who came towards the children with-a look 
 of sweet confidence on his fair and spiritual face, as 
 if, having manifested his love to one of them, he had 
 no longer to fear a repulse from their society. A 
 hush came over their mirth the moment they beheld 
 him, and they stood whispering to each other while he 
 drew nigh ; but, all at once, the devil of their fathers 
 entered into the unbreeched fanatics, and sending up 
 a fierce, shrill cry, they rushed upon the poor Quaker 
 child. In an instant, he was the centre of a brood of 
 baby-fiends, who lifted sticks against him, pelted him 
 with stones, and displayed an instinct of destruction 
 far more loathsome than the bloodthirstiness of man 
 hood. 
 
 The invalid, in the meanwhile, stood apart from the 
 tumult, crying out with a loud voice, " Fear not, Ilbra 
 him, come hither and take my hand ; " and his un 
 happy friend endeavored to obey him. After watch 
 ing the victim s struggling approach with a calm smile 
 and unabashed eye, the foul-hearted little villain lifted 
 his staff and struck Ilbrahim on the mouth, so forci 
 bly that the blood issued in a stream. The poor child s 
 arms had been raised to guard his head from the storm 
 of blows ; but now he dropped them at once. His per 
 secutors beat him down, trampled upon him, dragged 
 him by his long, fair locks, and Ilbrahim was on the 
 point of becoming as veritable a martyr as ever en 
 tered bleeding into heaven. The uproar, however, 
 attracted the notice of a few neighbors, who put them 
 selves to the trouble of rescuing the little heretic, and 
 of conveying him to Pearson s door. 
 
 Ilbrahim s bodily harm was severe, but long^ and 
 careful nursing accomplished his recovery ; the injury 
 
THE GENTLE BOY. 113 
 
 done to his sensitive spirit was more serious, though 
 not so visible. Its signs were principally of a negative 
 character, and to be discovered only by those who had 
 previously known him. His gait was thenceforth slow, 
 even, and unvaried by the sudden bursts of sprightlier 
 motion, which had once corresponded to his overflow 
 ing gladness ; his countenance was heavier, and its 
 former play of expression, the dance of sunshine re 
 flected from moving water, was destroyed by the cloud 
 over his existence ; his notice was attracted in a far 
 less degree by passing events, and he appeared to find 
 greater difficulty in comprehending what was new to 
 him than at a happier period. A stranger, founding 
 his judgment upon these circumstances, would have 
 said that the dulness of the child s intellect widely 
 contradicted the promise of his features ; but the secret 
 was in the direction of Ilbrahim s thoughts, which 
 
 O 
 
 were brooding within him when they should naturally 
 have been wandering abroad. An attempt of Dorothy 
 to revive his former sportiveness was the single occa 
 sion on which his quiet demeanor yielded to a violent 
 display of grief ; he burst into passionate weeping, and 
 ran and hid himself, for his heart had become so mis 
 erably sore that even the hand of kindness tortured 
 it like fire. Sometimes, at night and probably in his 
 dreams, he was heard to cry fci Mother ! Mother ! " as 
 if her place, which a stranger had supplied while II- 
 brahim was happy, admitted of no substitute in his ex 
 treme affliction. Perhaps, among the many life-weary 
 wretches then upon the earth, there was not one who 
 combined innocence and misery like this poor, broken 
 hearted infant, so soon the victim of his own heavenly 
 nature. 
 
 "While this melancholy change had taken place in 
 
 VOL. I. 8 
 
114 TWICE-TOLD TALES. 
 
 Ilbrahim, one of an earlier origin and of different 
 character had come to its perfection in his adopted 
 father. The incident with which this tale commences 
 found Pearson in a state of religious dulness, yet men 
 tally disquieted, and longing for a more fervid faith 
 than he possessed. The first effect of his kindness to 
 Ilbrahim was to produce a softened feeling, and incip 
 ient love for the child s whole sect; but joined to this, 
 and resulting perhaps from self-suspicion, was a proud 
 and ostentatious contempt of all their tenets and prac 
 tical extravagances. In the course of much thought, 
 however, for the subject struggled irresistibly into^his 
 mind, the foolishness of the doctrine began to be less 
 evident, and the points which had particularly offended 
 his reason assumed another aspect, or vanished entirely 
 away. The work within him appeared to go on even 
 while he slept, and that which had been a doubt, when 
 he laid down to rest, would often hold the place of 
 a truth, confirmed by some forgotten demonstration, 
 when he recalled his thoughts in the morning. But 
 while he was thus becoming assimilated to the enthusi 
 asts, his contempt, in nowise decreasing towards them, 
 grew very fierce against himself ; he imagined, also, 
 that every face of his acquaintance wore a sneer, and 
 that every word addressed to him was a gibe. Such 
 was his state of mind at the period of Ilbrahim s mis 
 fortune ; and the emotions consequent upon that event 
 completed the change, of which the child had been the 
 original instrument. 
 
 In the mean time, neither the fierceness of the per 
 secutors, nor the infatuation of their victims, had de 
 creased. The dungeons were never empty ; the streets 
 of almost every village echoed daily with the lash ;, the 
 life of a woman, whose mild and Christian spirit n 
 
THE GENTLE BOY. 115 
 
 cruelty could embitter, had been sacrificed ; and more 
 innocent blood was vet to pollute the hands that were 
 so often raised in prayer. Early after the Restoration, 
 the English Quakers represented to Charles II. that 
 a "vein of blood was open in his dominions;" but 
 though the displeasure of the voluptuous king was 
 roused, his interference was not prompt. And now 
 the tale must stride forward over many months, leav 
 ing Pearson to encounter ignominy and misfortune ; 
 his wife to a firm endurance of a thousand sorrows ; 
 poor Ilbrahim to pine and droop like a cankered rose 
 bud ; his mother to wander on a mistaken errand, neg 
 lectful of the holiest trust which can be committed to 
 a woman. 
 
 A winter evening, a night of storm, had darkened 
 over Pearson s habitation, and there were no cheerful 
 faces to drive the gloom from his broad hearth. The 
 fire, it is true, sent forth a glowing heat and a ruddy 
 light, and large logs, dripping with half -melted snow, 
 lay ready to be cast upon the embers. But the apart 
 ment was saddened in its aspect by the absence of 
 much of the homely wealth which had once adorned 
 it; for the exaction of repeated fines, and his own 
 neglect of temporal affairs, had greatly impoverished 
 the owner. And with the furniture of peace, the im 
 plements of war had likewise disappeared ; the sword 
 was broken, the helm and cuirass were cast away for 
 ever ; the soldier had done with battles, and might not 
 lift so much as his naked hand to guard his head. 
 But the Holy Book remained, and the table on which 
 it rested was drawn before the fire, while two of the 
 persecuted sect sought comfort from its pages. 
 
 He who listened, while the other read, was the 
 
116 TWICE-TOLD TALES. 
 
 master of the house, now emaciated in form, and al 
 tered as to the expression and healthiness of his coun 
 tenance ; for his mind had dwelt too long among 
 visionary thoughts, and his body had been worn by 
 imprisonment and stripes. The hale and weather- 
 beaten old man who sat beside him had sustained less 
 injury from a far longer course of the same mode of 
 life. In person he was tall and dignified, and, which 
 alone would have made him hateful to the Puritans, 
 his gray locks fell from beneath the broad-brimmed 
 hat, and rested on his shoulders. As the old man read 
 the sacred page the snow drifted against the windows, 
 or eddied in at the crevices of the door, while a blast 
 kept laughing in the chimney, and the blaze leaped 
 fiercely up to seek it. And sometimes, when the wind 
 struck the hill at a certain angle, and swept down by 
 the cottage across the wintry plain, its voice was the 
 most doleful that can be conceived ; it came as if the 
 Past were speaking, as if the Dead had contributed 
 each a whisper, as if the Desolation of Ages were 
 breathed in that one lamenting sound. 
 
 The Quaker at length closed the book, retaining 
 however his hand between the pages which he had 
 been reading, while he looked steadfastly at Pearson. 
 The attitude and features of the latter might have 
 indicated the endurance of bodily pain ; he leaned 
 his forehead on his hands, his teeth were firmly closed, 
 and his frame was tremulous at intervals with a ner 
 vous agitation. 
 
 "Friend Tobias," inquired the old man, compas 
 sionately, " hast thou found no comfort in these many 
 blessed passages of Scripture ? " 
 
 " Thy voice has fallen on my ear like a sound, afar 
 off and indistinct," replied Pearson without lifting his 
 
THE GENTLE BOY. 117 
 
 eyes. "Yea, and when I have hearkened carefully 
 the words seemed cold and lifeless, and intended for 
 another and a lesser grief than mine. Remove the 
 book," he added, in a tone of sullen bitterness. " I 
 have no part in its consolations, and they do but fret 
 my sorrow the more." 
 
 " Nay, feeble brother, be not as one who hath never 
 known the light," said the elder Quaker earnestly, 
 but with mildness. "Art thou he that woiddst be 
 content to give all, and endure all, for conscience 
 sake ; desiring even peculiar trials, that thy faith 
 might be purified and thy heart weaned from worldly 
 desires? And wilt thou sink beneath an affliction 
 which happens alike to them that have their portion 
 here below, and to them that lay up treasure in 
 heaven ? Faint not, for thy burden is yet light." 
 
 "It is heavy! It is heavier than I can bear!" ex 
 claimed Pearson, with the impatience of a variable 
 spirit. " From my youth upward I have been a man 
 marked out for wrath; and year by year, yea, day 
 after day, I have endured sorrows such as others 
 know not in their lifetime. And now I speak not of 
 the love that has been turned to hatred, the honor to 
 ignominy, the ease and plentifidness of all things to 
 clanger, want, and nakedness. All this I could have 
 borne, and counted myself blessed. But when my 
 heart was desolate with many losses I fixed it upon the 
 child of a stranger, and he became dearer to me than 
 all my buried ones : and now he too must die as if my 
 love were poison. Verily, I am an accursed man, and 
 I will lay me down in the dust and lift up my head 
 no more." 
 
 " Thou sinnest, brother, but it is not for me to re 
 buke thee ; for I also have had my hours of darkness, 
 
118 TWICE-TOLD TALES. 
 
 wherein I have murmured against the cross," said the 
 old Quaker. He continued, perhaps in the hope of 
 distracting his companion s thoughts from his own sor 
 rows. " Even of late was the light obscured within 
 me, when the men of blood had banished me on pain 
 of death, and the constables led me onward from vil 
 lage to village towards the wilderness. A strong and 
 cruel hand was wielding the knotted cords ; they sunk 
 deep into the flesh, and thou mightst have tracked 
 every reel and totter of my footsteps by the blood that 
 followed. As we went on" 
 
 "Have I not borne all this; and have I mur 
 mured ? " interrupted Pearson impatiently. 
 
 " Nay, friend, but hear me," continued the other. 
 " As we journeyed on, night darkened on our path, so 
 that no man could see the rage of the persecutors or 
 the constancy t)f my endurance, though Heaven for 
 bid that I should glory therein. The lights began to 
 glimmer in the cottage windows, and I could discern 
 the inmates as they gathered in comfort and security, 
 every man with his wife and children by their own 
 evening hearth. At length we came to a tract of fer 
 tile land ; in the dim light, the forest was not visible 
 around it ; and behold ! there was a straw-thatched 
 dwelling, which bore the very aspect of my home, far 
 over the wild ocean, far in our own England. Then 
 came bitter thoughts upon me ; yea, remembrances 
 that were like death to my soul. The happiness of my 
 early days was painted to me ; the disquiet of my man 
 hood, the altered faith of my declining years. I re 
 membered how I had been moved to go forth a wan 
 derer when my daughter, the youngest, the dearest oi 
 my flock, lay on her dying bed, and " ._ /4 .. 
 
 " Couldst thou obey the command at such a mo 
 ment ? " exclaimed Pearson, shuddering. 
 
THE GENTLE BOY. 119 
 
 " Yea, yea," replied the old man hurriedly. " I was 
 kneeling by her bedside when the voice spoke loud 
 within me ; but immediately I rose, and took my staff, 
 and gat me gone. Oh ! that it were permitted me to 
 forget her woful look when I thus withdrew my arm, 
 and left her journeying through the dark valley alone ! 
 for her soul was faint, and she had leaned upon my 
 prayers. Now in that night of horror I was assailed 
 by the thought that I had been an erring Christian 
 and a cruel parent; yea, even my daughter, with her 
 pale, dying features, seemed to stand by me and whis 
 per, 4 Father, you are deceived ; go home and shelter 
 your gray head. O Thou, to whom I have looked in 
 my farthest wanderings," continued the Quaker, rais 
 ing his agitated eyes to heaven, "inflict not upon the 
 bloodiest of our persecutors the unmitigated agony of 
 my soul, when I believed that all I had done and suf 
 fered for Thee was at the instigation of a mocking 
 fiend ! But I yielded not ; I knelt down and wrestled 
 with the tempter, while the scourge bit more fiercely 
 into the flesh. My prayer was heard, and I went on 
 in peace and joy towards the wilderness." 
 
 The old man, though his fanaticism had generally 
 all the calmness of reason, was deeply moved while 
 reciting this tale ; and his unwonted emotion seemed 
 to rebuke and keep down that of his companion. 
 They sat in silence, with their faces to the fire, imag 
 ining, perhaps, in its red embers new scenes of perse 
 cution yet to be encountered. The snow still drifted 
 hard against the windows, and sometimes, as the blaze 
 of the logs had gradually sunk, came down the spa 
 cious chimney and hissed upon the hearth. A cautious 
 footstep might now and then be heard in a neighbor 
 ing apartment, and the sound invariably drew the eyes 
 
120 TWICE-TOLD TALES. 
 
 of both Quakers to the door which led thither. When 
 a fierce and riotous gust of wind had led his thoughts, 
 by a natural association, to homeless travellers on such 
 a night, Pearson resumed the conversation. 
 
 " I have well-nigh sunk under my own share of this 
 trial," observed he, sighing heavily; "yet I would 
 that it might be doubled to me, if so the child s 
 mother could be spared. Her wounds have been deep 
 and many, but this will be the sorest of all." 
 
 " Fear not for Catharine," replied the old Quaker, 
 " for I know that valiant woman, and have seen how 
 she can bear the cross. A mother s heart, indeed, is 
 strong in her, and may seem to contend mightily with 
 her faith ; but soon she will stand up and give thanks 
 that her son has been thus early an accepted sacrifice. 
 The boy hath done his work, and she will feel that 
 he is taken hence in kindness both to him and her. 
 Blessed, blessed are they that with so little suffering 
 can enter into peace ! " 
 
 The fitful rush of the wind was now disturbed by a 
 portentous sound ; it was a quick and heavy knocking 
 at the outer door. Pearson s wan countenance grew 
 paler, for many a visit of persecution had taught him 
 what to dread ; the old man, on the other hand, stood 
 up erect, and his glance was firm as that of the tried 
 soldier who awaits his enemy. 
 
 " The men of blood have come to seek me," he ob 
 served with calmness. " They have heard how I was 
 moved to return from banishment ; and now am I to 
 be led to prison, and thence to death. It is an end 
 I have long looked for. I will open unto them, lest 
 they say, Lo, he f eareth ! 
 
 " Nay, I will present myself before them," said 
 Pearson, with recovered fortitude. " It may be thai 
 
THE GENTLE BOY. 121 
 
 they seek rne alone, and know not that thou abidest 
 with me." 
 
 " Let us go boldly, both one and the other," rejoined 
 his companion. " It is not fitting that thou or I shoidd 
 shrink." 
 
 They therefore proceeded through the entry to the 
 door, which they opened, bidding the applicant ;i Come 
 in, in God s name ! " A furious blast of wind drove 
 the storm into their faces, and extinguished the lamp ; 
 they had barely time to discern a figure, so white from 
 head to foot with the drifted snow that it seemed like 
 Winter s self, come in human shape, to seek refuge 
 from its own desolation. 
 
 " Enter, friend, and do thy errand, be it what it 
 may," said Pearson. "It must needs be pressing, 
 since thou comest on such a bitter night." 
 
 " Peace be with this household," said the stranger, 
 when they stood on the floor of the inner apartment. 
 
 Pearson started, the elder Quaker stirred the slum 
 bering embers of the fire till they sent up a clear and 
 lofty blaze ; it was a female voice that had spoken ; it 
 was a female form that shone out, cold and wintry, in 
 that comfortable light. 
 
 " Catharine, blessed woman ! " exclaimed the old 
 man, " art thou come to this darkened land again ? art 
 thou come to bear a valiant testimony as in former 
 years ? The scourge hath not prevailed against thee, 
 and from the dungeon hast thou come forth triumph 
 ant ; but strengthen, strengthen now thy heart, Cath 
 arine, for Heaven will prove thee yet this once, ere 
 thou go to thy reward." 
 
 " Rejoice, friends ! " she replied. u Thou who hast 
 long been of our people, and thou whom a little child 
 Uath led to us, rejoice ! Lo ! I come, the messenger 
 
122 TWICE-TOLD TALES. 
 
 of glad tidings, for the day of persecution is overpast 
 The heart of the king, even Charles, hath been moved 
 in gentleness towards us, and he hath sent forth his 
 letters to stay the hands of the men of blood. A ship s 
 company of our friends hath arrived at yonder town, 
 and I also sailed joyfully among them." 
 
 As Catharine spoke, her eyes were roaming about 
 the room, in search of him for whose sake security 
 was dear to her. Pearson made a silent appeal to the 
 old man, nor did the latter shrink from the painful 
 task assigned him. 
 
 " Sister," he began, in a softened yet perfectly calm 
 tone, " thou tellest us of His love, manifested in tem 
 poral good ; and now must we speak to thee of that 
 selfsame love, displayed in chastenings. Hitherto, 
 Catharine, thou hast been as one journeying in a 
 darksome and difficult path, and leading an infant by 
 the hand ; fain wouldst thou have looked heavenward 
 continually, but still the cares of that little child have 
 drawn thine eyes and thy affections to the earth. 
 Sister ! go on rejoicing, for his tottering footsteps 
 shall impede thine own no more." 
 
 But the unhappy mother was not thus to be con 
 soled ; she shook like a leaf, she turned white as the 
 very snow that hung drifted into her hair. The firm 
 old man extended his hand and held her up, keeping 
 his eye upon hers, as if to repress any outbreak of 
 passion. 
 
 " I am a woman, I am but a woman ; will He try 
 me above my strength?" said Catharine very quickly, 
 and almost in a whisper. "I have been wounded 
 sore : I have suffered much ; many things in the body , 
 many in the mind ; crucified in myself, and in them 
 that were dearest to me. Surely," added she, with a 
 
THE GENTLE BOY. 123 
 
 long shudder, " He hath spared me in this one thing." 
 She broke forth with sudden and irrepressible vio 
 lence. " Tell me, man of cold heart, what has God 
 done to me ? Hath He cast me down, never to rise 
 again ? Hath He crushed my very heart in his hand ? 
 And thou, to whom I committed my child, how hast 
 thou fulfilled thy trust ? Give me back the boy, well, 
 sound, alive, alive ; or earth and Heaven shall avenge 
 me!" 
 
 The agonized shriek of Catharine was answered by 
 the faint, the very faint, voice of a child. 
 
 On this day it had become evident to Pearson, to 
 his aged guest, and to Dorothy, that Ilbrahim s brief 
 and troubled pilgrimage drew near its close. The 
 two former would willingly have remained by him, to 
 make use of the prayers and pious discourses which 
 they deemed appropriate to the time, and which, if 
 they be impotent as to the departing traveller s recep 
 tion in the world whither it goes, may at least sus 
 tain him in bidding adieu to earth. But though Ilbra- 
 him uttered no complaint, he was disturbed by the 
 faces that looked upon him ; so that Dorothy s entrea 
 ties, and their own conviction that the child s feet 
 might tread heaven s pavement and not soil it, had 
 induced the two Quakers to remove. Ilbrahim then 
 closed his eyes and grew calm, and, except for now 
 and then a kind and low word to his nurse, might 
 have been thought to slumber. As nightfall came 
 on, however, and the storm began to rise, something 
 seemed to trouble t^ repose of the boy s mind, and 
 to render his sense ($f Bearing active and acute. If a 
 passing wind lingered to shake the casement, he strove 
 to turn his head towards it ; if the door jarred to and 
 fro upon its hinges, he looked long and anxiously 
 
124 TWICE-TOLD TALES. 
 
 thitherward ; if the heavy voice of the old man, as he 
 read the Scriptures, rose but a little higher, the child 
 almost held his dying breath to listen ; if a snow-drift 
 swept by the cottage, with a sound like the trailing 
 of a garment, Ilbrahim seemed to watch that some 
 visitant should enter. 
 
 But, after a little time, he relinquished whatever 
 secret hope had agitated him, and with one low, com 
 plaining whisper, turned his cheek upon the pillow. 
 He then addressed Dorothy with his usual sweetness, 
 and besought her to draw near him ; she did so, and 
 Ilbrahim took her hand in both of his, grasping it 
 with a gentle pressure, as if to assure himself that he 
 retained it. At intervals, and without disturbing the 
 repose of his countenance, a very faint trembling 
 passed over him from head to foot, as if a mild but 
 somewhat cool wind had breathed upon him, and 
 made him shiver. As the boy thus led her by the 
 hand, in his quiet progress over the borders of eter 
 nity, Dorothy almost imagined that she could discern 
 the near, though dim, delightfulness of the home he 
 was about to reach ; she would not have enticed the 
 little wanderer back, though she bemoaned herself 
 that she must leave him and return. But just when 
 Ilbrahim s feet were pressing on the soil of Paradise 
 he heard a voice behind him, and it recalled him a few, 
 few paces of the weary path which he had travelled. 
 As Dorothy looked upon his features, she perceived 
 that their placid expression was again disturbed ; her 
 own thoughts had been so wrapped in him, that all 
 sounds of the storm, and of h*a-m speech, were lost 
 to her ; but when Catharine s shriek pierced through 
 the room, the boy strove to raise himself. -./. 
 
 " Friend, she is come ! Open unto her ! " cried he, 
 
THE GENTLE BOY. 125 
 
 In a moment his mother was kneeling by the bed 
 side ; she drew Ilbrahim to her bosom, and he nestled 
 there, with no violence of joy, but contentedly, as if 
 he were hushing himself to sleep. He looked into her 
 face, and reading its agony, said, with feeble earnest 
 ness, " Mourn not, dearest mother. I am happy now. 
 And with these words the gentle boy was dead. 
 
 The king s mandate to stay the Xew England per 
 secutors was effectual in preventing further martyr 
 doms ; but the colonial authorities, trusting in the 
 remoteness of their situation, and perhaps in the sup 
 posed instability of the royal government, shortly re 
 newed their severities in all other respects. Catha 
 rine s fanaticism had become wilder by the sundering 
 of all human ties ; and wherever a scourge was lifted 
 there was she to receive the blow ; and whenever a 
 dungeon was unbarred thither she came, to cast her 
 self upon the floor. But in process of time a more 
 Christian spirit a spirit of forbearance, though not 
 of cordiality or approbation began to pervade the 
 land in regard to the persecuted sect. And then, 
 when the rigid old Pilgrims eyed her rather in pity 
 than in wrath ; when the matrons fed her with the 
 fragments of their children s food, and offered her a 
 lodging on a hard and lowly bed ; when no little crowd 
 of schoolboys left their sports to cast stones after the 
 roving enthusiast ; then did Catharine return to Pear 
 son s dwelling and made that her home. 
 
 As if Ilbrahinvs sweetness yet lingered round his 
 ashes; as if his gentle spirit came down from heaven 
 to teach his parent a true religion, her fierce and vin 
 dictive nature was softened by the same griefs which 
 had once irritated it. When the course of years had 
 
126 TWICE-TOLD TALES. 
 
 made the features of the unobtrusive mourner familiar 
 in the settlement, she became a subject of not deep, 
 but general, interest ; a being on whom the otherwise 
 superfluous sympathies of all might be bestowed. 
 Every one spoke of her with that degree of pity 
 which it is pleasant to experience; every one was 
 ready to do her the little kindnesses which are not 
 costly, yet manifest good will ; and when at last she 
 died, a long train of her once bitter persecutors fol 
 lowed her, with decent sadness and tears that were 
 not painful, to her place by Ilbrahim s green and 
 sunken grave. 
 
 
 
MR. HIGGIXBOTHAM S CATASTROPHE. 
 
 A YOUNG fellow, a tobacco pedlar by trade, was on 
 his way from Morristown, where he had dealt largely 
 with the Deacon of the Shaker settlement, to the 
 village of Parker s Falls, on Salmon River. He had 
 a neat little cart, painted green, with a box of cigars 
 depicted on each side panel, and an Indian chief, 
 holding a pipe and a golden tobacco stalk, on the 
 rear. The pedlar drove a smart little mare, and was 
 a young man of excellent character, keen at a bargain, 
 but none the worse liked by the Yankees ; who, as I 
 have heard them say, would rather be shaved with a 
 sharp razor than a dull one. Especially was he be 
 loved by the pretty girls along the Connecticut, whose 
 favor he used to court by presents of the best smok 
 ing tobacco in his stock ; knowing well that the coun 
 try lasses of New England are generally great per 
 formers on pipes. Moreover, as will be seen in the 
 course of my story, the pedlar was inquisitive, and 
 something of a tattler, always itching to hear the 
 news and anxious to tell it again. 
 
 After an early breakfast at Morristown, the tobacco 
 pedlar, whose name was Dominicus Pike, had trav 
 elled seven miles through a solitary piece of woods, 
 without speaking a word to anybody but himself and 
 his little gray mare. It being nearly seven o clock, he 
 was as eager to hold a morning gossip as a city shop 
 keeper to read the morning paper. An opportunity 
 seemed at hand when, after lighting a cigar with a 
 
128 TWICE-TOLD TALES. 
 
 sun-glass, he looked up, and perceived a man coming 
 over the brow of the hill, at the foot of which the ped 
 lar had stopped his green cart. Dominions watched 
 him as he descended, and noticed that he carried a 
 bundle over his shoulder on the end of a stick, and 
 travelled with a weary, yet determined pace. He did 
 not look as if he had started in the freshness of the 
 morning, but had footed it all night, and meant to do 
 the same all day. 
 
 " Good morning, mister," said Dominicus, when 
 within speaking distance. " You go a pretty good 
 jog. What s the latest news at Parker s Falls? " 
 
 The man pulled the broad brim of a gray hat over 
 his eyes, and answered, rather suddenly, that he did 
 not come Trom Parker s Falls, which, as being the 
 limit of his own day s journey, the pedlar had natu 
 rally mentioned in his inquiry. 
 
 " Well then," rejoined Dominicus Pike, " let s have 
 the latest news where you did come from. I m not 
 particular about Parker s Falls. Any place will an 
 swer." 
 
 Being thus importuned, the traveller who was as 
 ill looking a fellow as one would desire to meet in a 
 solitary piece of woods appeared to hesitate a little, 
 as if he was either searching his memory for news, or 
 weighing the expediency of telling it. At last, mount 
 ing on the step of the cart, he whispered in the ear of 
 Dominicus, though he might have shouted aloud and 
 no other mortal would have heard him. 
 
 " I do remember one little trifle of news," said he. 
 " Old Mr. Higginbotham, of Kimballton, was murdered 
 in his orchard, at eight o clock last night, by an Irish 
 man and a nigger. They strung him up to the branch 
 of a St. Michael s pear-tree, where nobody would find 
 him till the morning." 
 
MR. HIGGINBOTHAM S CATASTROPHE. 129 
 
 As soon as this horrible intelligence was commu 
 nicated, the stranger betook himself to his journey 
 again, with more speed than ever, not even turning 
 his head when Dominions invited him to smoke a 
 Spanish cigar and relate all the particulars. The ped 
 lar whistled to his mare and went up the hill, ponder 
 ing on the doleful fate of Mr. Higginbotham whom he 
 had known in the way of trade, having sold him many 
 a bunch of long nines, and a great deal of pigtail, 
 lady s twist, and fig tobacco. He was rather astonished 
 at the rapidity with which the news had spread. Kim- 
 ballton was nearly sixty miles distant in a straight line ; 
 the murder had been perpetrated only at eight o clock 
 the preceding night ; yet Dominicus had heard of it 
 at seven in the morning, when, in all probability, poor 
 Mr. Higginbotham s own family had but just discov 
 ered his corpse, hanging on the St. Michael s pear- 
 tree. The stranger on foot must have worn seven- 
 league boots to travel at such a rate. 
 
 " 111 news flies fast, they say," thought Dominicus 
 Pike ; " but this beats railroads. The fellow ought to 
 be hired to go express with the President s Message." 
 
 The difficulty was solved by supposing that the nar 
 rator had made a mistake of one day in the date of 
 the occurrence ; so that our friend did not hesitate to 
 introduce the story at every tavern and country store 
 along the road, expending a whole bunch of Spanish 
 wrappers among at least twenty horrified audiences. 
 He found himself invariably the first bearer of the in 
 telligence, and was so pestered with questions that he 
 could not avoid filling up the outline, till it became 
 quite a respectable narrative. He met with one piece 
 of corroborative evidence. Mr. Higginbotham was a 
 trader ; and a former clerk of his, to whom Dommicua 
 
 VOL. I. 
 
130 TWICE-TOLD TALES. 
 
 related the facts, testified that the old gentleman was 
 accustomed to return home through the orchard about 
 nightfall, with the money and valuable papers of the 
 store in his pocket. The clerk manifested but little 
 grief at Mr. Higginbotham s catastrophe, hinting, 
 what the pedlar had discovered in his own dealings 
 with him, that he was a crusty old fellow, as close as 
 a vice. His property would descend to a pretty niece 
 who was now keeping school in Kimballton. 
 
 What with telling the news for the public good, and 
 driving bargains for his own, Dominicus was so much 
 delayed on the road that he chose to put up at a tav 
 ern, about five miles short of Parker s Falls. After 
 supper, lighting one of his prime cigars, he seated him 
 self in the bar-room, and went through the story of 
 the murder, which had grown so fast that it took him 
 half an hour to tell. There were as many as twenty 
 people in the room, nineteen of whom received it all 
 for gospel. But the twentieth was an elderly farmer, 
 who had arrived on horseback a short time before, and 
 was now seated in a corner smoking his pipe. When 
 the story was concluded, he rose up very deliberately, 
 brought his chair right in front of Dominicus, and 
 stared him full in the face, puffing out the vilest to 
 bacco smoke the pedlar had ever smelt. 
 
 " Will you make affidavit," demanded he, in the 
 tone of a country justice taking an examination, " that 
 old Squire Higginbotham of Kimballton was murdered 
 in his orchard the night before last, and found hang, 
 ing on his great pear-tree yesterday morning? " 
 
 " I tell the story as I heard it, mister," answered 
 Dominicus, dropping his half-burnt cigar ; " I don t 
 say that I saw the thing done. So I can t take, my 
 oath that he was murdered exactly in that way." 
 
MR. HIGGINBOTHAM S CATASTROPHE. 131 
 
 "But I can take mine," said the farmer, "that if 
 Squire Higginbotham was murdered night before last, 
 I drank a glass of bitters with his ghost this morning. 
 Being a neighbor of mine, he called me into his store, 
 as I was riding by, and treated me, and then asked me 
 to do a little business for him on the road. He did n t 
 seem to know- any more about his own murder thgn I 
 did." 
 
 44 Why, then, it can t be a fact ! " exclaimed Domini- 
 cus Pike. 
 
 "I guess he d have mentioned, if it was," said the 
 old farmer ; and he removed his chair back to the 
 corner, leaving Dominions quite down in the mouth. 
 
 Here was a sad resurrection of old Mr. Higgin 
 botham ! The pedlar had no heart to mingle in the 
 conversation any more, but comforted himself with a 
 glass of gin and water, and went to bed where, all 
 night long, he dreamed of hanging on the St. Michael s 
 pear-tree. To avoid the old farmer (whom he so de 
 tested that his suspension would have pleased him bet 
 ter than Mr. Higginbotham s), Dominicus rose in the 
 gray of the morning, put the little mare into the green 
 cart, and trotted swiftly away towards Parker s Falls. 
 The fresh breeze, the dewy road, and the pleasant 
 summer dawn, revived his spirits, and might have en 
 couraged him to repeat the old story had there been 
 anybody awake to hear it. But he met neither ox 
 team, light wagon chaise, horseman, nor foot traveller, 
 till, just as he crossed Salmon River, a man came 
 trudging down to the bridge with a bundle over his 
 shoulder, on the end of a stick. 
 
 44 Good morning, mister," said the pedlar, reining 
 in his mare. " If you come from Kimballton or that 
 neighborhood, may be you can tell me the real fact 
 
132 TWICE-TOLD TALES. 
 
 about this affair of old Mr. Higginbotham. Was the 
 old fellow actually murdered two or three nights ago, 
 by an Irishman and a nigger ? " 
 
 Dominions had spoken in too great a hurry to ob 
 serve, at first, that the stranger himself had a deep 
 tinge of negro blood. On hearing this sudden ques- 
 tioi^, the Ethiopian appeared to change his skin, its 
 yellow hue becoming a ghastly white, while, shaking 
 and stammering, he thus replied : 
 
 " No ! no ! There was no colored man ! It was 
 an Irishman that hanged him last night, at eight 
 o clock. I came away at seven ! His folks can t 
 have looked for him in the orchard yet." 
 
 Scarcely had the yellow man spoken, when he inter 
 rupted himself, and though he seemed weary enough 
 before, continued his journey at a pace which would 
 have kept the pedlar s mare on a smart trot. Do- 
 minicus started after him in great perplexity. If the 
 murder had not been committed till Tuesday night, 
 who was the prophet that had foretold it, in all its 
 circumstances, on Tuesday morning ? If Mr. Higgin 
 botham s corpse were not yet discovered by his own 
 family, how came the mulatto, at above thirty miles 
 distance, to know that he was hanging in the orchard, 
 especially as he had left Kimballton before the un 
 fortunate man was hanged at all ? These ambiguous 
 circumstances, with the stranger s surprise and terror, 
 made Dominions think of raising a hue and cry after 
 him, as an accomplice in the murder ; since a murder, 
 it seemed, had really been perpetrated. 
 
 " But let the poor devil go," thought the pedlar. 
 44 1 don t want his black blood on my head ; and hang 
 ing the nigger would n t unhang Mr. Higginbotham. 
 Unhang the old gentleman ! It s a sin, I know ; but 
 
MR. HIGGIXBOTHAM S CATASTROPHE. 133 
 
 I should hate to have him come to life a second time, 
 and give me the lie ! " 
 
 With these meditations. Dominicus Pike drove into 
 the street of Parker s Falls, which, as everybody 
 knows, is as thriving a village as three cotton factories 
 and a slitting mill can make it. The machinery was 
 not in motion, and but a few of the shop doors un 
 barred, when he alighted in the stable yard of the 
 tavern, and made it his first business to order the mare 
 four quarts of oats. His second duty, of course, was 
 to impart Mr. Higginbotham s catastrophe to the 
 hostler. He deemed it advisable, however, not to be 
 too positive as to the date of the diref id fact, and also 
 to be uncertain whether it were perpetrated by an 
 Irishman and a mulatto, or by the son of Erin alone. 
 Neither did he profess to relate it on his own author 
 ity, or that of any one person ; but mentioned it as a 
 report generally diffused. 
 
 The story ran through the town like fire among 
 girdled trees, and became so much the universal talk 
 that nobody could tell whence it had originated. Mr. 
 Higginbotham was as well known at Parker s Falls 
 as any citizen of the place, being part owner of the 
 slitting mill, and a considerable stockholder in the 
 cotton factories. The inhabitants felt their own pros 
 perity interested in his fate. Such was the excite 
 ment, that the Parker s Falls Gazette anticipated its 
 regular da} of publication, and came out with half a 
 form of blank paper and a column of double pica 
 emphasized with capitals, and headed HORRID 
 MURDER OF MR. HIGGIXBOTHAM I Among 
 other dreadful details, the printed account described 
 the mark of the cord round the dead man s neck, and 
 stated the number of thousand dollars of which he 
 
134 TWICE-TOLD TALES. 
 
 had been robbed ; there was much pathos also about 
 the affliction of his niece, who had gone from one 
 fainting fit to another, ever since her uncle was found 
 hanging on the St. Michael s pear-tree with his pock 
 ets inside out. The village poet likewise commemo 
 rated the young lady s grief in seventeen stanzas of a 
 ballad. The selectmen held a meeting, and, in con 
 sideration of Mr. Higginbotham s claims on the town, 
 determined to issue handbills, offering a reward of 
 five hundred dollars for the apprehension of his mur 
 derers, and the recovery of the stolen property. 
 
 Meanwhile the whole population of Parker s Falls, 
 consisting of shopkeepers, mistresses of boarding- 
 houses, factory girls, millmen, and school boys, rushed 
 into the street and kept up such a terrible loquacity 
 as more than compensated for the silence of the cotton 
 machines, which refrained from their usual din out of 
 respect to the deceased. Had Mr. Higginbotham 
 cared about posthumous renown, his untimely ghost 
 would have exulted in this tumult. Our friend Do- 
 minicus, in his vanity of heart, forgot his intended pre 
 cautions, and mounting on the town pump, announced 
 himself as the bearer of the authentic intelligence 
 which had caused so wonderful a sensation. He im 
 mediately became the great man of the moment, 
 and had just begun a new edition of the narrative, 
 with a voice like a field preacher, when the mail stage 
 drove into the village street. It had travelled all 
 night, and must have shifted horses at Kimballtoii, 
 at three in the morning. 
 
 " Now we shall hear all the particulars," shouted 
 the crowd. 
 
 The coach rumbled up to the piazza of the tave,rn, 
 followed by a thousand people ; for if any man had 
 
MR. HIGGINBOTHAM S CATASTROPHE. 135 
 
 been minding his own business till then, he now left 
 it at sixes and sevens, to hear the news. The pedlar, 
 foremost in the race, discovered two passengers, both 
 of whom had been startled from a comfortable nap 
 to find themselves in the centre of a mob. Every 
 man assailing them with separate questions, all pro 
 pounded at once, the couple were struck speechless, 
 though one was a lawyer and the other a young lady. 
 
 Mr. Higginbotham ! Mr. Higgmbotham ! Tell us 
 the particulars about old Mr. Higginbotham ! " bawled 
 the mob. " What is the coroner s verdict ? Are the 
 murderers apprehended ? Is Mr. Higginbotham s 
 niece come out of her fainting fits ? Mr. Higgin 
 botham ! Mr. Higginbotham ! ! " 
 
 The coachman said not a word, except to swear 
 awfully at the hostler for not bringing him a fresh team 
 of horses. The lawyer inside had generally his wits 
 about him even when asleep : the first thing he did, 
 after learning the cause of the excitement, was to pro 
 duce a large, red pocket-book. Meantime Dominions 
 Pike, being an extremely polite young man, and also 
 suspecting that a female tongue would tell the story 
 as glibly as a lawyer s, had handed the lady out of the 
 coach. She was a fine, smart girl, now wide awake 
 and bright as a button, and had such a sweet pretty 
 mouth, that Dominions would almost as lief have 
 heard a love tale from it as a tale of murder. 
 
 " Gentlemen and ladies," said the lawyer to the 
 shopkeepers, the niillmen, and the factory girls, k * I can 
 assure you that some unaccountable mistake, or, more 
 probably, a wilful falsehood, maliciously contrived to 
 injure Mr. Higgiiibotham s credit, has excited this 
 singular uproar. AVe passed through Kimballton at 
 three o clock this morning, and most certainly should 
 
136 TWICE-TOLD TALES. 
 
 have been informed of the murder had any been per 
 petrated. But I have proof nearly as strong as Mr. 
 Higginbothanv s own oral testimony, in the negative. 
 Here is a note relating to a suit of his in the Con 
 necticut courts, which was delivered me from that 
 gentleman himself. I find it dated at ten o clock last 
 evening." 
 
 So saying, the lawyer exhibited the date and signa 
 ture of the note, which irrefragably proved, either 
 that this perverse Mr. Higginbotham was alive when 
 he wrote it, or as some deemed the more probable 
 case, of two doubtful ones that he was so absorbed 
 in worldly business as to continue to transact it even 
 after his death. But unexpected evidence was forth 
 coming. The young lady, after listening to the ped 
 lar s explanation, merely seized a moment to smooth 
 her gown and put her curls in order, and then ap 
 peared at the tavern door, making a modest signal to 
 be heard. 
 
 " Good people," said she, " I am Mr. Higginbot 
 ham s niece." 
 
 A wondering murmur passed through the crowd on 
 beholding her so rosy and bright ; that same unhappy 
 niece, whom they had supposed, on the authority of 
 the Parker s Falls Gazette, to be lying at death s 
 door in a fainting fit. But some shrewd fellows had 
 doubted, all along, whether a young lady would be 
 quite so desperate at the hanging of a rich old uncle. 
 
 "You see," continued Miss Higginbotham, with a 
 smile, " that this strange story is quite unfounded as 
 to myself ; and I believe I may affirm it to be equally 
 BO in regard to my dear uncle Higginbotham. He 
 has the kindness to give me a home in his house, 
 though I contribute to my own support by teaching a 
 
MR. HIGGIXBOTHAM S CATASTROPHE. 137 
 
 school. I left Kimballton this morning to spend the 
 vacation of commencement week with a friend, about 
 five miles from Parker s Falls. My generous uncle, 
 when he heard me on the stairs, called me to his bed 
 side, and gave me two dollars and fifty cents to pay 
 my stage fare, and another dollar for my extra ex 
 penses. He then laid his pocket-book under his pil 
 low, shook hands with me, and advised me to take 
 some biscuit in my bag. instead of breakfasting on the 
 road. I feel confident, therefore, that I left my be 
 loved relative alive, and trust that I shall find him so 
 on my return." 
 
 The young lady courtesied at the close of her 
 speech, which was so sensible and well worded, and 
 delivered with such grace and propriety, that every 
 body thought her fit to be preceptress of the best 
 academy in the State. But a stranger would have 
 supposed that Mr. Higginbotham was an object of ab 
 horrence at Parker s Falls, and that a thanksgiving 
 had been proclaimed for his murder ; so excessive 
 was the wrath of the inhabitants on learning their 
 mistake. The millmen resolved to bestow public hon 
 ors on Dominicus Pike, only hesitating whether to 
 tar and feather him, ride him on a rail, or refresh him 
 with an ablution at the town pump, on the top of 
 which he had declared himself the bearer of the news. 
 The selectmen, by advice of the lawyer, spoke of pros 
 ecuting him for a misdemeanor, in circulating un 
 founded reports, to the great disturbance of the peace 
 of the Commonwealth. Nothing saved Dominicus, 
 either from mob law or a court of justice, but an 
 eloquent appeal made by the young lady in his behalf. 
 Addressing a few words of heartfelt gratitude to his 
 benefactress, he mounted the green cart and rode out 
 
138 * TWICE-TOLD TALES. 
 
 of town, under a discharge of artillery from the school 
 boys, who found plenty of ammunition in the neigh 
 boring clay-pits and mud holes. As he turned his 
 head to exchange a farewell glance with Mr. Higgin- 
 botham s niece, a ball, of the consistence of hasty 
 pudding, hit him slap in the mouth, giving him a most 
 grim aspect. His whole person was so bespattered 
 with the like filthy missiles, that he had almost a mind 
 to ride back, and supplicate for the threatened ablu 
 tion at the town pump ; for, though not meant in 
 kindness, it would now have been a deed of charity. 
 
 However, the sun shone bright on poor Dominicus, 
 and the mud, an emblem of all stains of undeserved 
 opprobrium, was easily brushed off when dry. Being 
 a funny rogue, his heart soon cheered up ; nor could 
 he refrain from a hearty laugh at the uproar which 
 his story had excited. The handbills of the select 
 men would cause the commitment of all the vagabonds 
 in the State ; the paragraph in the Parker s Falls 
 Gazette would be reprinted from Maine to Florida, 
 and perhaps form an item in the London newspapers ; 
 and many a miser would tremble for his money bags 
 and life, on learning the catastrophe of Mr. Higgin- 
 botham. The pedlar meditated with much fervor on 
 the charms of the young schoolmistress, and swore 
 that Daniel Webster never spoke nor looked so like 
 an angel as Miss Higginbotham, while defending him 
 from the wrathful populace at Parker s Falls. 
 
 Dominicus was now on the Kimballton turnpike, 
 having all along determined to visit that place, though 
 business had drawn him out of the most direct road 
 from Morristown. As he approached the scene of the 
 supposed murder, he continued to revolve the circum 
 stances in his mind, and was astonished at the aspect 
 
MR. HIGGIXBOTHAM S CATASTROPHE. 
 
 which the whole case assumed. Had nothing oc 
 curred to corroborate the story of the first traveller, 
 it might now have been considered as a hoax ; but the 
 yellow man was evidently acquainted either with the 
 report or the fact ; and there was a mystery in his dis 
 mayed and guilty look on being abruptly questioned. 
 Wheii, to this singular combination of incidents, it 
 was added that the rumor tallied exactly with Mr. 
 Higginbotham s character and habits of life ; and 
 that he had an orchard, and a St. Michael s pear-tree, 
 near which he always passed at nightfall : the circum 
 stantial evidence appeared so strong that Dominicus 
 doubted whether the autograph produced by the law 
 yer, or even the niece s direct testimony, ought to be 
 equivalent. Making cautious inquiries along the road, 
 the pedlar further learned that Mr. Higginbotham 
 had in his service an Irishman of doubtful character, 
 whom he had hired without a recommendation, on the 
 score of economy. 
 
 " May I be hanged myself," exclaimed Dominicus 
 Pike aloud, on reaching the top of a lonely hill, " if 
 I 11 believe old Higginbotham is unhanged till I see 
 him with my own eyes, and hear it from his own 
 mouth ! And as he s a real shaver, I 11 have the min 
 ister or some other responsible man for an indorser." 
 
 It was oTowins: dusk when he reached the toll-house 
 
 o O 
 
 on Kimballton turnpike, about a quarter of a mile 
 from the village of this name. His little mare was fast 
 bringing him up with a man on horseback, who trotted 
 through the ate a few rods in advance of him. nodded 
 
 & & 
 
 to the toll-gatherer, and kept on towards the village. 
 Dominicus was acquainted with the tollman, and, while 
 making change, the usual remarks on the weather 
 passed between them. 
 
140 TWICE-TOLD TALES. 
 
 "I suppose," said the pedlar, throwing back his 
 whiplash, to bring it down like a feather on the mare s 
 flank, " you have not seen anything of old Mr. Hig- 
 ginbotham within a day or two? " 
 
 " Yes," answered the toll-gatherer. " He passed 
 the gate just before you drove up, and yonder he rides 
 now, if you can see him through the dusk. He s been 
 to Woodfield this afternoon, attending a sheriff s sale 
 there. The old man generally shakes hands and has 
 a little chat with me ; but to-night, he nodded, as 
 if to say, Charge my toll, and jogged on ; for wher 
 ever he goes, he must always be at home by eight 
 o clock." 
 
 " So they tell me," said Dominicus. 
 
 " I never saw a man look so yellow and thin as the 
 squire does," continued the toll-gatherer. " Says I to 
 myself, to-night, he s more like a ghost or an old 
 mummy than good flesh and blood." 
 
 The pedlar strained his eyes through the twilight, 
 and could just discern the horseman now far ahead on 
 the village road. He seemed to recognize the rear of 
 Mr. Higginbotham ; but through the evening shadows, 
 and amid the dust from the horse s feet, the figure ap 
 peared dim and unsubstantial ; as if the shape of the 
 mysterious old man were faintly moulded of darkness 
 and gray light. Dominicus shivered. 
 
 " Mr. Higginbotham has come back from the other 
 world, by way of the Kimballton turnpike," thought 
 he. 
 
 He shook the reins and rode forward, keeping about 
 the same distance in the rear of the gray old shadow, 
 till the latter was concealed by a bend of the road. 
 On reaching this point, the pedlar no longer saw the 
 man on horseback, but found himself at the head of 
 
MR. HIGGINBOTHAM S CATASTROPHE. 141 
 
 the village street, not far from a number of stores and 
 two taverns, clustered round the meeting-house steeple. 
 On his left were a stone wall and a gate, the boundary 
 of a wood-lot, beyond which lay an orchard, farther 
 still, a mowing field, and last of all, a house. These 
 were the premises of Mr. Higginbotham, whose dwell 
 ing stood beside the old highway, but had been left 
 in the background by the Kiruballton turnpike. Do- 
 minicus knew the place ; and the little mare stopped 
 short by instinct ; for he was not conscious of tighten 
 ing the reins. 
 
 44 For the soul of me, I cannot get by this gate ! " 
 said he, trembling. u I never shall be my own man 
 again, till I see whether Mr. Higginbotham is hanging 
 on the St. Michael s pear-tree ! " 
 
 He leaped from the cart, gave the rein a turn round 
 the gate post, and ran along the green path of the 
 wood-lot as if Old Nick were chasing behind. Just 
 then the village clock tolled eight, and as each deep 
 stroke fell, Dominicus gave a fresh bound and flew 
 faster than before, till, dim in the solitary centre of 
 the orchard, he saw the fated pear-tree. One great 
 branch stretched from the old contorted trunk across 
 the path, and threw the darkest shadow on that one 
 spot. But something seemed to struggle beneath the 
 branch ! 
 
 The pedlar had never pretended to more courage 
 than befits a man of peaceable occupation, nor could 
 he account for his valor on this awful emergency. 
 Certain it is, however, that he rushed forward, pros 
 trated a sturdy Irishman with the butt end of his 
 whip, and found not indeed hanging on the St. Mi 
 chael s pear-tree, but trembling beneath it, with a halter 
 round his neck the old, identical Mr. Higginbotham ! 
 
142 TWICE-TOLD TALES. 
 
 " Mr. Higginbotham," said Dominicus tremulously, 
 " you re an honest man, and I 11 take your word for 
 it. Have you been hanged or not ? " 
 
 If the riddle be not already guessed, a few words 
 will explain the simple machinery by which this " com 
 ing event" was made to "cast its shadow before." 
 Three men had plotted the robbery and murder of 
 Mr. Higginbotham ; two of them, successively, lost 
 courage and fled, each delaying the crime one night 
 by their disappearance ; the third was in the act of 
 perpetration, when a champion, blindly obeying the 
 call of fate, like the heroes of old romance, appeared 
 in the person of Dominicus Pike. 
 
 It only remains to say, that Mr. Higginbotham took 
 the pedlar into high favor, sanctioned his addresses to 
 the pretty schoolmistress, and settled his whole prop 
 erty on their children, allowing themselves the inter 
 est. In due time, the old gentleman capped the climax 
 of his favors, by dying a Christian death, in bed, since 
 which melancholy event Dominicus Pike has removed 
 from Kimballton, and established a large tobacco 
 manufactory in my native village. 
 
LITTLE ANNIE S RAMBLE. 
 
 DING-DONG ! Ding-dong ! Ding-dong ! 
 
 The town crier has rung his bell at a distant corner, 
 and little Annie stands on her father s doorsteps, try 
 ing to hear what the man with the loud voice is talk 
 ing about. Let nie listen too. Oh, he is telling the 
 people that an elephant, and a lion, and a royal tiger, 
 and a horse with horns, and other strange beasts from 
 foreign countries, have come to town, and will receive 
 all visitors who choose to wait upon them. Perhaps 
 little Annie would like to go. Yes ; and I can see 
 that the pretty child is weary of this wide and pleasant 
 street, with the green trees flinging their shade across 
 the quiet sunshine, and the pavements and the side 
 walks all as clean as if the housemaid had just swept 
 them with her broom. She feels that impulse to go 
 strolling away that longing after the mystery of the 
 great world which many children feel, and which I 
 felt in my childhood. Little Annie shall take a ram 
 ble with me. See ! I do but hold out my hand, and, 
 like some bright bird in the sunny air. with her blue 
 silk frock fluttering upwards from her white pantalets, 
 she comes bounding on tiptoe across the street. 
 
 Smooth back your brown curls, Annie ; and let me 
 tie on your bonnet, and we will set forth ! What a 
 strange couple to go on their rambles together! One 
 walks in black attire,- with a measured step, and a 
 heavy brow, and his thoughtful eyes bent down ; while 
 the gay little girl trips lightly along, as if she were 
 
144 TWICE-TOLD TALES. 
 
 forced to keep hold of my hand, lest her feet should 
 dance away from the earth. Yet there is sympathy 
 between us. If I pride myself on anything, it is be 
 cause I have a smile that children love ; and, on the 
 other hand, there are few grown ladies that could 
 entice me from the side of little Annie ; for I delight 
 to let my mind go hand in hand with the mind of a 
 sinless child. So, come, Annie ; but if I moralize as 
 we go, do not listen to me ; only look about you, and 
 be merry ! 
 
 Now we turn the corner. Here are hacks with two 
 horses, and stage-coaches with four, thundering to 
 meet each other, and trucks and carts moving at a 
 slower pace, being heavily laden with barrels from the 
 wharves, and here are rattling gigs, which perhaps will 
 be smashed to pieces before our eyes. Hitherward, 
 also, comes a man trundling a wheelbarrow along the 
 pavement. Is not little Annie afraid of such a tu 
 mult ? No ; she does not even shrink closer to my 
 side, but passes on with fearless confidence, a happy 
 child amidst a great throng of grown people, who pay 
 the same reverence to her infancy that they would to 
 extreme old age. Nobody jostles her; all turn aside 
 to make way for little Annie ; and what is most sin 
 gular, she appears conscious of her claim to such re 
 spect. Now her eyes brighten with pleasure ! A street 
 musician has seated himself on the steps of yonder 
 church, and pours forth his strains to the busy town, 
 a melody that has gone astray among the tramp of 
 footsteps, the buzz of voices, and the war of passing 
 wheels. Who heeds the poor organ grinder ? None 
 but myself and little Annie, whose feet begin to move 
 in unison with the lively tune, as if she were /loath 
 that music should be wasted without a dance. But 
 
LITTLE ANNIE S RAMBLE. 145 
 
 where would Annie find a partner? Some have the 
 gout in their toes, or the rheumatism in their joints ; 
 some are stiff with age ; some feeble with disease ; 
 some are so lean that their bones would rattle, and 
 others of such ponderous size that their agility woidd 
 crack the flagstones; but many, many have leaden 
 feet, because their hearts are far heavier than lead. 
 It is a sad thought that I have chanced upon. AVhat 
 a company of dancers shoidd we be ! For I, too, am 
 a gentleman of sober footsteps, and therefore, little 
 Annie, let us walk sedately on. 
 
 It is a question with me, whether this giddy child 
 or my sage self have most pleasure in looking at the 
 shop windows. We love the silks of sunny hue. that 
 glow within the darkened premises of the spruce dry 
 goods men ; we are pleasantly dazzled by the bur 
 nished silver and the chased gold, the rings of wed 
 lock and the costly love ornaments, glistening at the 
 window of the jeweller ; but Annie, more than I. seeks 
 for a glimpse of her passing figure in the dusty look 
 ing-glasses at the hardware stores. All that is bright 
 and gay attracts us both. 
 
 Here is a shop to which the recollections of my boy 
 hood, as well as present partialities, give a peculiar 
 magic. How delightful to let the fancy revel on the 
 dainties of a confectioner : those pies, with such white 
 and flaky paste, their contents being a mystery, whether 
 rich mince, with whole plums intermixed, or piquant 
 apple, delicately rose flavored; those cakes, heart- 
 shaped or round, piled in a lofty pyramid ; those sweet 
 little circlets, sweetly named kisses : those dark majes 
 tic masses, fit to be bridal loaves at the wedding of 
 an heiress, mountains in size, their summits deeply 
 snow-covered with sugar ! Then the mighty treasures 
 
 VOL. JC. 10 
 
146 TWICE-TOLD TALES. 
 
 of sugar-plums, white and crimson and yellow, in 
 large glass vases ; and candy of all varieties ; and 
 those little cockles, or whatever they are called, much 
 prized by children for their sweetness, and more for 
 the mottoes which they inclose, by love-sick maids and 
 bachelors ! Oh, my mouth waters, little Annie, and so 
 doth yours ; but we will not be tempted, except to an 
 imaginary feast ; so let us hasten onward, devouring 
 the vision of a plum cake. 
 
 Here are pleasures, as some people would say, of a 
 more exalted kind, in the window of a bookseller, is 
 Annie a literary lady ? Yes ; she is deeply read in 
 Peter Parley s tomes, and has an increasing love for 
 fairy tales, though seldom met with nowadays, and 
 she will subscribe, next year, to the Juvenile Miscel 
 lany. But, truth to tell, she is apt to turn away from 
 the printed page, and keep gazing at the pretty pict 
 ures, such as the gay-colored ones which make this 
 shop window the continual loitering-place of children*, 
 What would Annie think if, in the book which I 
 mean to send her on New Year s Day, she should find 
 her sweet little self, bound up in silk or morocco with 
 gilt edges, there to remain till she become a woman 
 grown, with children of her own to read about their 
 mother s childhood ! That would be very queer. 
 
 Little Annie is weary of pictures, and pulls me on 
 ward by the hand, till suddenly we pause at the most 
 wondrous shop in all the town. Oh, my stars ! Is this 
 a toyshop, or is it fairyland? For here are gilded 
 chariots, in which the king and queen of the fairies 
 might ride side by side, while their courtiers, on these 
 small horses, should gallop in triumphal procession 
 before and behind the royal pair. Here, too, ^re 
 dishes of china ware, fit to be the dining set of thos 
 
LITTLE ANNIE S RAMBLE. 147 
 
 same princely personages, when they make a regal 
 banquet in the stateliest hall of their palace, full five 
 feet high, and behold their nobles feasting adown the 
 long perspective of the table. Betwixt the king and 
 queen should sit my little Annie, the prettiest fairv of 
 them all. Here stands a turbaned turk, threatening 
 us with his sabre, like an ugly heathen as he is. And 
 next a Chinese mandarin, who nods his head at Annie 
 and myself. Here we may review a whole army of 
 horse and foot, in red and blue uniforms, with drums, 
 fifes, trumpets, and all kinds of noiseless music ; they 
 have halted on the shelf of this window, after their 
 weary march from Liliput. But what cares Annie for 
 soldiers ? No conquering queen is she, neither a Se- 
 miramis nor a Catharine ; her whole heart is set upon 
 that doll, who gazes at us with such a fashionable stare. 
 This is the little girl s true plaything. Though made 
 of wood, a doll is a visionary and ethereal personage, 
 endowed by childish fancy with a peculiar life : the 
 mimic lady is a heroine of romance, an actor and a 
 sufferer in a thousand shadowy scenes, the chief inhab 
 itant of that wild world with which children ape the 
 real one. Little Annie does not understand what I 
 am saying, but looks wishfully at the proud lady in 
 the window. ^\Ve wilt invite her home with us as we 
 return. Meantime, good-by. Dame Doll ! A toy your 
 self, you look forth from your window upon many 
 ladies that are also toys, though they walk and speak, 
 and upon a crowd in pursuit of toys, though they wear 
 grave visages. Oh, with your never closing eyes, had 
 you but an intellect to moralize on all that flits before 
 them, what a wise doll would you be ! Come, little 
 Annie, we shall find toys enough, go where we may. 
 Now we elbow our way among the throng again. 
 
148 TWICE-TOLD TALES. 
 
 It is curious, in the most crowded part of a town, to 
 meet with living creatures that had their birthplace in 
 some far solitude, but have acquired a second nature 
 in the wilderness of men. Look up, Annie, at that 
 canary bird, hanging out of the window in his cage. 
 Poor little fellow! His golden feathers are all tar 
 nished in this smoky sunshine; he would have glis 
 tened twice as brightly among the summer islands; 
 but still he has become a citizen in all his tastes and 
 habits, and would not sing half so well without the up 
 roar that drowns his music. What a pity that he does 
 not know how miserable he is ! There is a parrot, too, 
 calling out, "Pretty Poll! Pretty Poll! " as we pass 
 by. Foolish bird, to be talking about her prettiness 
 to strangers, especially as she is not a pretty Poll, 
 though gaudily dressed in green and yellow. If she 
 had said "Pretty Annie," there would have been 
 some sense in it. See that gray squirrel, at the door 
 of the fruit shop, whirling round and round so merrily 
 within his wire wheel ! Being condemned to the tread 
 mill, he makes it an amusement. Admirable philos 
 ophy ! 
 
 Here comes a big, rough dog, a countryman s dog, 
 in search of his master ; smelling at everybody s heels, 
 and touching little Annie s hand with his cold nose, 
 but hurrying away, though she would fain have patted 
 him. Success to your search, Fidelity! And there 
 sits a great yellow cat upon a window sill, a very cor 
 pulent and comfortable cat, gazing at this transitory 
 world, with owl s eyes, and making pithy comments, 
 doubtless, or what appear such, to the silly beast. O, 
 sage puss, make room for me beside you, and we will 
 be a pair of philosophers ! . , 4 .. 
 
 Here we see something to remind us of the towu 
 
LITTLE ANNI&S RAMBLE. 149 
 
 crier, and his ding-dong bell ! Look ! look at that 
 great cloth spread out in the air, pictured all over 
 with wild beasts, as if they had met together to choose 
 a king, according to their custom in the days of JEsop. 
 But they are choosing neither a king nor a president, 
 else we should hear a most horrible snarling ! They 
 have come from the deep woods, and the wild moun 
 tains, and the desert sands, and the polar snows, only 
 to do homage to my little Annie. As we enter among 
 them, the great elephant makes us a bow, in the best 
 style of elephantine courtesy, bending lowly down his 
 mountain bulk, with trunk abased, and leg thrust out 
 behind. Annie returns the salute, much to the gratifi 
 cation of the elephant, who is certainly the best-bred 
 monster in the caravan. The lion and the lioness are 
 busy with two beef bones. The royal tiger, the beauti 
 ful, the untamable, keeps pacing his narrow cage with 
 a haughty step, unmindful of the spectators, or recall 
 ing the fierce deeds of his former life, when he was 
 wont to leap forth upon such inferior animals from 
 the jungles of Bengal. 
 
 Here we see the very same wolf do not go near 
 him, Annie ! the selfsame wolf that devoured little 
 Eed Riding Hood and her grandmother. In the next 
 cage, a hyena from Egypt, who has doubtless howled 
 around the pyramids, and a black bear from our own 
 forests, are fellow-prisoners, and most excellent friends. 
 Are there any two living creatures who have so few 
 sympathies that they cannot possibly be friends ? 
 Here sits a great white bear, whom common observers 
 would call a very stupid beast, though I perceive him 
 to be onlv absorbed in contemplation ; he is thinking 
 of his voyages on an iceberg, and of his comfortable 
 home in the vicinity of the north pole, and of the lit- 
 
150 TWICE-TOLD TALES. 
 
 tie cubs whom he left rolling in the eternal snows, 
 In fact, he is a bear of sentiment. But, oh, those un 
 sentimental monkeys ! the ugly, grinning, aping, chat 
 tering, ill-natured, mischievous, and queer little brutes. 
 Annie does not love the monkeys. Their ugliness 
 shocks her pure, instinctive delicacy of taste, and 
 makes her mind unquiet, because it bears a wild and 
 dark resemblance to humanity. But here is a little 
 pony, just big enough for Annie to ride, and round 
 and round he gallops in a circle, keeping time with 
 his trampling hoofs to a band of music. And here 
 with a laced coat and a cocked hat, and a riding whip 
 in his hand here comes a little gentleman, small 
 enough to be king of the fairies, and ugly enough to 
 be king of the gnomes, and takes a flying leap into the 
 saddle. Merrily, merrily plays the music, and mer 
 rily gallops the pony, and merrily rides the little old 
 gentleman. Come, Annie, into the street again ; per 
 chance we may see monkeys on horseback there ! 
 
 Mercy on us, what a noisy world we quiet people 
 live in ! Did Annie ever read the Cries of London 
 City ? With what lusty lungs doth yonder man pro 
 claim that his wheelbarrow is full of lobsters ! Here 
 comes another mounted on a cart, and blowing a 
 hoarse and dreadful blast from a tin horn, as much as 
 to say " Fresh fish ! " And hark ! a voice on high, 
 like that of a muezzin from the summit of a mosque, 
 announcing that some chimney sweeper has emerged 
 from smoke and soot, and darksome caverns, into the 
 upper air. What cares the world for that ? But, 
 welladay, we hear a shrill voice of affliction, the 
 scream of a little child, rising louder with every repe 
 tition of that smart, sharp, slapping sound, produced 
 by an open hand on tender flesh. Annie sympathizes, 
 
LITTLE ANNIE S RAMBLE. 151 
 
 though without experience of such direful woe. Lo ! 
 the town crier again, with some new secret for the 
 public ear. Will he tell us of an auction, or of a lost 
 pocket-book, or a show of beautiful wax figures, or of 
 some monstrous beast more horrible than any in the 
 caravan ? I guess the latter. See how he uplifts the 
 bell in his right hand, and shakes it slowly at first, 
 then with a hurried motion, till the clapper seems to 
 strike both sides at once, and the sounds are scattered 
 forth in quick succession, far and near. 
 
 Ding-dong ! Ding-dong ! Ding-dong ! 
 
 Now he raises his clear, loud voice, above all the 
 din of the town ; it drowns the buzzing talk of many 
 tongues, and draws each man s mind from his own 
 business ; it rolls up and down the echoing street, 
 and ascends to the hushed chamber of the sick, and 
 penetrates downward to the cellar kitchen, where the 
 hot cook turns from the fire to listen. Who, of all 
 that address the public ear, whether in church, or 
 court-house, or hall of state, has such an attentive 
 audience as the town crier ? What said the people s 
 orator ? 
 
 " Strayed from her home, a LITTLE GIRL, of five 
 years old, in a blue silk frock and white pantalets, 
 with brown curling hair and hazel eyes. Whoever 
 will bring her back to her afflicted mother " 
 
 Stop, stop, town crier ! The lost is found. O, my 
 pretty Annie, we forgot to tell your mother of our 
 ramble, and she is in despair, and has sent the town 
 crier to bellow up and down the streets, affrighting 
 old and young, for the loss of a little girl who has not 
 once let go my hand ? "Well, let us hasten homeward ; 
 and as we go, forget not to thank Heaven, my Annie, 
 that, after wandering a little way into the world, you 
 
152 TWICE-TOLD TALES. 
 
 may return at the first summons, with an untainted 
 and unwearied heart, and be a happy child again. 
 But I have gone too far astray for the town crier to 
 call me back. 
 
 Sweet has been the charm of childhood on my spirit, 
 throughout my ramble with little Annie! Say not 
 that it has been a waste of precious moments, an idle 
 matter, a babble of childish talk, and a reverie of 
 childish imaginations, about topics unworthy of a 
 grown man s notice. Has it been merely this ? Not 
 so ; not so. They are not truly wise who would affirm 
 it. As the pure breath of children revives the life of 
 aged men, so is our moral nature revived by their free 
 and simple thoughts, their native feeling, their airy 
 mirth, for little cause or none, their grief, soon roused 
 and soon allayed. Their influence on us is at least 
 reciprocal with ours on them. When our infancy is 
 almost forgotten, and our boyhood long departed, 
 though it seems but as yesterday ; when life settles 
 darkly down upon us, and we doubt whether to call 
 ourselves young any more, then it is good to steal 
 away from the society of bearded men, and even of 
 gentler woman, and spe^d an hour or two with chil 
 dren. After drinking from those fountains of still 
 fresh existence, we shall return into the crowd, as I 
 do now, to struggle onward and do our part in life, 
 perhaps as fervently as ever, but, for a time, with a 
 kinder and purer heart, and a spirit more lightly wisa 
 All this by thy sweet magic, dear little Annie ! 
 
 
 
TVAKEFIELD. 
 
 IN some old magazine or newspaper I recollect a 
 story, told as truth, of a man let us call him Wake- 
 field who absented himself for a long time from his 
 wife. The fact, thus abstractedly stated, is not very 
 uncommon, nor without a proper distinction of cir 
 cumstances to be condemned either as naughty or 
 nonsensical. Howbeit, this, though far from the most 
 aggravated, is perhaps the strangest, instance on rec 
 ord, of marital delinquency ; and, moreover, as re 
 markable a freak as may be found in the whole list of 
 human oddities. The wedded couple lived in London. 
 The man, under pretence of going a journey, took 
 lodgings in the next street to his own house, and there, 
 unheard of by his wife or friends, and without the 
 shadow of a reason for such self-banishment, dwelt 
 upwards of twenty years. During that period, he be 
 held his home every day, and frequently the forlorn 
 Mrs. Wakefield. And after so great a gap in his 
 matrimonial felicity when his death was reckoned 
 certain, his estate settled, his name dismissed from 
 memory, and his wife, long, long ago, resigned to her 
 autumnal widowhood he entered the door one even 
 ing, quietly, as from a day s absence, and became a 
 loving spouse till death. 
 
 This outline is all that I remember. But the inci 
 dent, though of the purest originality, unexampled, 
 and probably never to be repeated, is one, I think, 
 which appeals to the generous sympathies of mankind. 
 
154 TWICE-TOLD TALES. 
 
 We know, each for himself, that none of us would 
 perpetrate such a folly, yet feel as if some other might. 
 To my own contemplations, at least, it has often re 
 curred, always exciting wonder, but with a sense that 
 the story must be true, and a conception of its hero s 
 character. Whenever any subject so forcibly affects 
 the mind, time is well spent in thinking of it. If the 
 reader choose, let him do his own meditation ; or if he 
 prefer to ramble with me through the twenty years of 
 Wakefield s vagary, I bid him welcome ; trusting that 
 there will be a pervading spirit and a moral, even 
 should we fail to find them, done up neatly, and con 
 densed into the final sentence. Thought has always its 
 efficacy, and every striking incident its moral. 
 
 What sort of a man was Wakefield ? We are free 
 to shape out our own idea, and call it by his name. 
 He was now in the meridian of life ; his matrimonial 
 affections, never violent, were sobered into a calm, 
 habitual sentiment ; of all husbands, he was likely to 
 be the most constant, because a certain sluggishness 
 would keep his heart at rest, wherever it might be 
 placed. He was intellectual, but not actively so ; his 
 mind occupied itself in long and lazy musings, that 
 ended to no purpose, or had not vigor to attain it ; 
 his thoughts were seldom so energetic as to seize hold 
 of words. Imagination, in the proper meaning of the 
 term, made no part of Wakefield s gifts. With a 
 cold but not depraved nor wandering heart, and a 
 mind never feverish with riotous thoughts, nor per 
 plexed with originality, who could have anticipated 
 that our friend would entitle himself to a foremost 
 place among the doers of eccentric deeds ? Had his 
 acquaintances been asked, who was the man in Lon 
 don the surest to perform nothing to-day which should 
 
WAKEFIELD. 155 
 
 be remembered on the morrow, they would have 
 thought of Wakefield. Only the wife of his bosom 
 might have hesitated. She, without having analyzed 
 his character, was partly aware of a quiet selfishness, 
 that had rusted into Ins inactive mind ; of a peculiar 
 sort of vanity, the most uneasy attribute about him ; 
 of a disposition to craft, which had seldom produced 
 more positive effects than the keeping of petty se 
 crets, hardly worth revealing ; and, lastly, of what she 
 called a little strangeness, sometimes, in the good man. 
 This latter quality is indefinable, and perhaps non-ex 
 istent. 
 
 Let us now imagine Wakefield bidding adieu to his 
 wife. It is the dusk of an October evening. His 
 equipment is a drab great-coat, a hat covered with an 
 oilcloth, top-boots, an umbrella in one hand and a 
 small portmanteau in the other. He has informed 
 Mrs. Wakefield that he is to take the night coach into 
 the country. She would fain inquire the length of 
 his journey, its object, and the probable time of his 
 return ; but, indulgent to his harmless love of mystery, 
 interrogates him only by a look. He tells her not to 
 expect him positively by the return coach, nor to be 
 alarmed should he tarry three or four days ; but, at 
 all events, to look for him at supper on Friday even 
 ing. Wakefield himself, be it considered, has no sus 
 picion of what is before him. He holds out his hand, 
 she gives her own, and meets his parting kiss in the 
 matter-of-course way of a ten years matrimony ; and 
 forth goes the middle-aged Mr. Wakefield, almost re 
 solved to perplex his good lady by a whole week s ab 
 sence. After the door has closed behind him, she 
 perceives it thrust partly open, and a vision of her 
 husband s face, through the aperture, smiling on her, 
 
156 TWICE-TOLD TALES. 
 
 and gone in a moment. For the time, this little inci 
 dent is dismissed without a thought. But, long after 
 wards, when she has been more years a widow than a 
 wife, that smile recurs, and flickers across all her rem 
 iniscences of Wakefield s visage. In her many mus 
 ings, she surrounds the original smile with a multi 
 tude of fantasies, which make it strange and awful : 
 as, for instance, if she imagines him in a coffin, that 
 parting look is frozen on his pale features ; or, if she 
 dreams of him in heaven, still his blessed spirit wears 
 a quiet and crafty smile. Yet, for its sake, when all 
 others have given him up for dead, she sometimes 
 doubts whether she is a widow. 
 
 But our business is with the husband. We must 
 hurry after him along the street, ere he lose his indi 
 viduality, and melt into the great mass of London 
 life. It would be vain searching for him there. Let 
 us follow close at his heels, therefore, until, after sev 
 eral superfluous turns and doublings, we find him com 
 fortably established by the fireside of a small apart 
 ment, previously bespoken. He is in the next street 
 to his own, and at his journey s end. He can scarcely 
 trust his good fortune, in having got thither unper- 
 ceived recollecting that, at one time, he was delayed 
 by the throng, in the very focus of a lighted lantern ; 
 and, again, there were footsteps that seemed to tread 
 behind his own, distinct from the multitudinous tramp 
 around him ; and, anon, he heard a voice shouting 
 afar, and fancied that it called his name. Doubtless, 
 a dozen busybodies had been watching him, and told 
 his wife the whole affair. Poor Wakefield ! Little 
 knowest thou thine own insignificance in this great 
 world ! No mortal eye but mine has traced thee. 
 Go quietly to thy bed, foolish man ; and, on the mor 
 
WAKE FIELD. 157 
 
 row, if thou wilt be wise, get thee home to good Mrs. 
 Wakefield, and tell her the truth. Remove not thy 
 self, even for a little week, from thy place in her chaste 
 bosom. Were she, for a single moment, to deem thee 
 dead, or lost, or lastingly divided from her, thou 
 wouldst be wofiilly conscious of a change in thy true 
 wife forever after. It is perilous to make a chasm in 
 human affections ; not that they gape so long and 
 wide but so quickly close again ! 
 
 Almost repenting of his frolic, or whatever it may 
 be termed, Wakefield lies down betimes, and startin^ 
 
 O 
 
 from his first nap, spreads forth his arms into the wide 
 and solitary waste of the unaccustomed bed. " No," 
 thinks he, gathering the bedclothes about him, u I 
 will not sleep alone another night." 
 
 In the morning he rises earlier than usual, and sets 
 himself to consider what he really means to do. Such 
 are his loose and rambling modes of thought that he 
 has taken this very singular step with the conscious 
 ness of a purpose, indeed, but without being able to 
 define it sufficiently for his own contemplation. The 
 vagueness of the project, and the convulsive effort with 
 which he plunges into the execution of it, are equally 
 characteristic of a feeble-minded man. Wakefield sifts 
 his ideas, however, as minutely as he may, and finds 
 himself curious to know the progress of matters at 
 home how his exemplary wife will endure her widow 
 hood of a week ; and, briefly, how the little sphere of 
 creatures and circumstances, in which he was a central 
 object, will be affected by his removal. A morbid 
 vanity, therefore, lies nearest the bottom of the affair. 
 But, how is he to attain his ends? Not, certainly, 
 by keeping close in this comfortable lodging, where, 
 though he slept and awoke in the next street to his 
 
158 TWICE-TOLD TALES. 
 
 home, he is as effectually abroad as if the stage-coach 
 had been whirling him away all night. Yet, should 
 he reappear, the whole project is knocked in the head. 
 His poor brains being hopelessly puzzled with this di 
 lemma, he at length ventures out, partly resolving to 
 cross the head of the street, and send one hasty glance 
 towards his forsaken domicile. Habit for he is a 
 man of habits takes him by the hand, and guides 
 him, wholly unaware, to his own door, where, just at 
 the critical moment, he is aroused by the scraping of 
 his foot upon the step. Wakefield ! whither are you 
 going? 
 
 At that instant his fate was turning on the pivot- 
 Little dreaming of the doom to which his first back 
 ward step devotes him, he hurries away, breathless 
 with agitation hitherto unfelt, and hardly dares turn 
 his head at the distant corner. Can it be that nobody 
 caught sight of him ? Will not the whole household 
 the decent Mrs. Wakefield, the smart maid servant, 
 and the dirty little footboy raise a hue and cry, 
 through London streets, in pursuit of their fugitive 
 lord and master ? Wonderful escape ! He gathers 
 courage to pause and look homeward, but is perplexed 
 with a sense of change about the familiar edifice, such 
 as affects us all, when, after a separation of months or 
 years, we again see some hill or lake, or work of art, 
 with which we were friends of old. In ordinary cases, 
 this indescribable impression is caused by the compar 
 ison and contrast between our imperfect reminiscences 
 and the reality. In Wakefield, the magic of a single 
 night has wrought a similar transformation, because, 
 in that brief period, a great moral change has been 
 effected. But this is a secret from himself. Before 
 leaving the spot, he catches a far and momentary 
 
WAKEFIELD. 159 
 
 glimpse of his wife, passing athwart the front window, 
 with her face turned towards the head of the street. 
 The crafty nincompoop takes to his heels, scared with 
 the idea that, among a thousand such atoms of mor 
 tality, her eye must have detected him. Right glad is 
 his heart, though his brain be somewhat dizzy, when 
 he finds himself by the coal fire of his lodgings. 
 
 So much for the commencement of this longr whim- 
 
 o 
 
 wham. After the initial conception, and the stirring 
 up of the man s sluggish temperament to put it in 
 practice, the whole matter evolves itself in a natural 
 train. We may suppose him, as the result of deep 
 deliberation, buying a new wig, of reddish hair, and 
 selecting sundry garments, in a fashion unlike his cus 
 tomary suit of brown, from a Jew s old-clothes bag. 
 It is accomplished. Wakefield is another man. The 
 new system being now established, a retrograde move 
 ment to the old would be almost as difficult as the step 
 that placed him in his unparalleled position. Further 
 more, he is rendered obstinate by a sulkiness occasion 
 ally incident to his temper, and brought on at present 
 by the inadequate sensation which he conceives to 
 have been produced in the bosom of Mrs. Wakefield. 
 He will not go back until she be frightened half to 
 death. Well ; twice or thrice has she passed before 
 nis sight, each time with a heavier step, a paler cheek, 
 and more anxious brow ; and in the third week of his 
 non-appearance he detects a portent of evil entering 
 the house, in the guise of an apothecary. Next day 
 the knocker is muffled. Towards nightfall comes the 
 chariot of a physician, and deposits its big-digged and 
 solemn burden at Wakefield s door, whence, after a 
 quarter of an hour s visit, he emerges, perchance the 
 herald of a funeral. Dear woman ! Will she die ? 
 
160 TWICE-TOLD TALES. 
 
 By this time, Wakefield is excited to something like 
 energy of feeling, but still lingers away from his wife s 
 bedside, pleading with his conscience that she must 
 not be disturbed at such a juncture. If aught else re 
 strains him, he does not know it. In the course of a 
 few weeks she gradually recovers ; the crisis is over ; 
 her heart is sad, perhaps, but quiet ; and, let him re 
 turn soon or late, it will never be feverish for him 
 again. Such ideas glimmer through the mist of W ake- 
 field s mind, and render him indistinctly conscious 
 that an almost impassable gulf divides his hired apart 
 ment from his former home. " It is but in the next 
 street ! " he sometimes says. Fool ! it is in another 
 world. Hitherto, he has put off his return from one 
 particular day to another ; henceforward, he leaves the 
 precise time undetermined. Not to-morrow prob 
 ably next week pretty soon. Poor man ! The dead 
 have nearly as much chance of revisiting their earthly 
 homes as the self-banished Wakefield. 
 
 Would that I had a folio to write, instead of an 
 article of a dozen pages! Then might I exemplify 
 how an influence beyond our control lays its strong 
 hand on every deed which we do, and weaves its con 
 sequences into an iron tissue of necessity. Wakefield 
 is spell-bound. We must leave him, for ten years or 
 so, to haunt around his house, without once crossing 
 the threshold, and to be faithful to his wife, with all 
 the affection of which his heart is capable, while he is 
 slowly fading out of hers. Long since, it must be re 
 marked, he had lost the perception of singularity in 
 his conduct. 
 
 Now for a scene ! Amid the throng of a London 
 street we distinguish a man, now waxing elderly, with 
 few characteristics to attract careless observers, yet 
 
WAKEF1ELD. 161 
 
 bearing, in his whole aspect, the handwriting of no 
 common fate, for such as have the skill to read it. He 
 is meagre ; his low and narrow forehead is deeply 
 wrinkled; his eves, small and lustreless, sometimes 
 wander apprehensively about him, but oftener seem to 
 look inward. He bends his head, and moves with an 
 indescribable obliquity of gait, as if unwilling to dis 
 play his full front to the world. Watch him long 
 enough to see what we have described, and you will 
 allow that circumstances which often produce re 
 markable men from nature s ordinary handiwork 
 have produced one such here. Next, leaving him to 
 sidle along the footwalk, cast your eyes in the opposite 
 direction, where a portly female, considerably in the 
 wane of life, with a prayer-book in her hand, is pro 
 ceeding to yonder church. She has the placid mien of 
 settled widowhood. Her regrets have either died awav, 
 or have become so essential to her heart, that they 
 would be poorly exchanged for joy. Just as the lean 
 man and well-conditioned woman are passing, a slight 
 obstruction occurs, and brings these two figures di 
 rectly in contact. Their hands touch ; the pressure of 
 the crowd forces her bosom against his shoulder ; they 
 stand, face to face, staring into each other s eyes. Af 
 ter a ten years separation, thus TVakefield meets his 
 wife! 
 
 The throng eddies away, and carries them asunder. 
 The sober widow, resuming her former pace, proceeds 
 to church, but pauses in the portal, and throws a per 
 plexed glance along the street. She passes in, how 
 ever, opening her prayer-book as she goes. And the 
 man ! with so wild a face that busy and selfish Lon 
 don stands to gaze after him, he hurries to his lodgings, 
 bolts the door, and throws himself upon the bed. The 
 
 VOL. I. 11 
 
162 TWICE-TOLD TALES. 
 
 latent feelings of years break out ; his feeble mind ac 
 quires a brief energy from their strength ; all the mis 
 erable strangeness of his life is revealed to him at a 
 glance : and he cries out, passionately, " Wakefield ! 
 Wakefield ! You are mad ! " 
 
 Perhaps he was so. The singularity of his situation 
 must have so moulded him to himself, that, considered 
 in regard to his fellow-creatures and the business of 
 life, he could not be said to possess his right mind. 
 He had contrived, or rather he had happened, to dis 
 sever himself from the world to vanish to give 
 up his place and privileges with living men, without 
 being admitted among the dead. The life of a hermit 
 is nowise parallel to his. He was in the bustle of the 
 city, as of old ; but the crowd swept by and saw him 
 not ; he was, we may figuratively say, always beside his 
 wife and at his hearth, yet must never feel the warmth 
 of the one nor the affection of the other. It was 
 Wakefield s unprecedented fate to retain his original 
 share of human sympathies, and to be still involved in 
 human interests, while he had lost his reciprocal influ 
 ence on them. It would be a most curious speculation 
 to trace out the effect of such circumstances on his 
 heart and intellect, separately, and in unison. Yet, 
 changed as he was, he would seldom be conscious of it, 
 but deem himself the same man as ever ; glimpses of 
 the truth, indeed, would come, but only for the mo 
 ment ; and still he would keep saying, " I shall soon 
 go back ! " nor reflect that he had been saying so 
 for twenty years. 
 
 I conceive, also, that these twenty years would ap 
 pear, in the retrospect, scarcely longer than the week 
 to which Wakefield had at first limited his absence. 
 He would look on the affair as no more than an inter 
 
WAKEFIELD. 163 
 
 lude in the main business of his life. When, after a 
 little while more, he should deem it time to reenter his 
 parlor, his wife would clap her hands for joy, on be 
 holding the middle-aged Mr. Wakefield. Alas, what 
 a mistake ! Would Time but await the close of our 
 favorite follies, we should be young men, all of us, and 
 till Doomsday. 
 
 One evening, in the twentieth year since he vanished, 
 Wakefield is taking his customary walk towards the 
 dwelling which he still calls his own. It is a gusty 
 night of autumn, with frequent showers that patter 
 down upon the pavement, and are gone before a man 
 can put up his umbrella. Pausing near the house, 
 Wakefield discerns, through the parlor windows of the 
 second floor, the red glow and the glimmer and fitful 
 flash of a comfortable fire. On the ceiling appears a 
 grotesque shadow of good Mrs. Wakefield. The cap, 
 the nose and chin, and the broad waist, form an ad 
 mirable caricature, which dances, moreover, with the 
 up-flickering and down-sinking blaze, almost too mer 
 rily for the shade of an elderly widow. At this instant 
 a shower chances to fall, and is driven, by the unman 
 nerly gust, full into Wakefield s face and bosom. He 
 is quite penetrated with its autumnal chill. Shall he 
 stand, w r et and shivering here, when his own hearth has 
 a good fire to warm him, and his own wife will run to 
 fetch the gray coat and small-clothes, which, doubtless, 
 she has kept carefully in the closet of their bed cham 
 ber ? No ! Wakefield is no such fool. He ascends 
 the ^steps heavily ! for twenty years have stiffened 
 his legs since he came down but he knows it not. 
 Stay, Wakefield ! Would you go to the sole home 
 that is left you ? Then step into your grave ! The 
 door opens. As he passes in, we have a parting 
 
164 TWICE-TOLD TALES. 
 
 glimpse of his visage, and recognize the crafty smile, 
 which was the precursor of the little joke that he has 
 ever since been playing off at his wife s expense. How 
 unmercifully has he quizzed the poor woman ! Well, a 
 good night s rest to Wakefield ! 
 
 This happy event supposing it to be such could 
 only have occurred at an unpremeditated moment. 
 We will not follow our friend across the threshold. 
 He has left us much food for thought, a portion of 
 which shall lend its wisdom to a moral, and be shaped 
 into a figure. Amid the seeming confusion of our 
 mysterious world, individuals are so nicely adjusted to 
 a system, and systems to one another and to a whole, 
 that, by stepping aside for a moment, a man exposes 
 himself to a fearful risk of losing his place forever. 
 Like Wakefield, he may become, as it were, the Out 
 cast of the Universe. 
 
 /<.* 
 
A RILL FROM THE TOWN PUMP. 
 
 < SCENE the corner of two principal streets. 1 The TOWN PCMP 
 talking through its nose.} 
 
 Noox, by the North clock! Noon, by the east! 
 High noon, too, by these hot sunbeams which fall, 
 scarcely aslope, upon my head, and almost make the 
 water bubble and smoke in the trough under my nose. 
 Truly, we public characters have a tough time of it ! 
 And, among all the town officers, chosen at March 
 meeting, where is he that sustains, for a single year, 
 the burden of such manifold duties as are imposed, 
 in perpetuity, upon the Town Pump ? The title of 
 " town treasurer " is rightfully mine, as guardian of 
 the best treasure that the town has. The overseers of 
 the poor ought to make me their chairman, since I 
 provide bountifully for the pauper, without expense to 
 him that pays taxes. I am at the head of the fire de 
 partment, and one of the physicians to the board of 
 health. As a keeper of the peace, all water drinkers 
 will confess me equal to the constable. I perform 
 some of the duties of the town clerk, by promulgating 
 public notices, when they are posted on my front. To 
 speak within bounds, I am the chief person of the 
 municipality, and exhibit, moreover, an admirable pat 
 tern to my brother officers, by the cool, steady, up 
 right, downright, and impartiaf discharge of my busi 
 ness, and the constancy with which I stand to my post. 
 Summer or winter, nobody seeks me in vain ; for, aU 
 1 Essex and Washington Streets, Salein. 
 
166 TWICE-TOLD TALES. 
 
 day long, I am seen at the busiest corner, just above 
 the market, stretching out my arms to rich and poor 
 alike ; and at night, I hold a lantern over my head, 
 both to show where I am, and keep people out of the 
 gutters. 
 
 At this sultry noontide, I am cupbearer to the 
 parched populace, for whose benefit an iron goblet is 
 chained to my waist. Like a dram seller on the mall, 
 at muster day, I cry aloud to all and sundry, in my 
 plainest accents, and at the very tiptop of my voice : 
 Here it is, gentlemen! Here is the good liquor! 
 Walk up, walk up, gentlemen, walk up, walk up! 
 Here is the superior stuff ! Here is the unadulterated 
 ale of father Adam better than Cognac, Hollands, 
 Jamaica, strong beer, or wine of any price ; here it is, 
 by the hogshead or the single glass, and not a cent to 
 pay ! Walk up, gentlemen, walk up, and help your 
 selves ! 
 
 It were a pity if all this outcry should draw no 
 customers. Here they come. A hot day, gentlemen ! 
 Quaff, and away again, so as to keep yourselves in a 
 nice cool sweat. You, my friend, will need another 
 cupful, to wash the dust out of your throat, if it be as 
 thick there as it is on your cowhide shoes. I see that 
 you have trudged half a score of miles to-day ; and, 
 like a wise man, have passed by the taverns, and 
 stopped at the running brooks and well curbs. Other 
 wise, betwixt heat without and fire within, you would 
 have been burned to a cinder, or melted down to noth 
 ing at all, in the fashion of a jelly-fish. Drink, and 
 make room for that other fellow, who seeks my aid to 
 quench the fiery fever of last night s potations, which 
 he drained from no cup of mine. Welcome, most 
 rubicund sir ! You and I have been great strangers, 
 
A RILL FROM THE TOWN PUMP. 167 
 
 hitherto ; nor, to confess the truth, will my nose be 
 anxious for a closer intimacy, till the fumes of your 
 breath be a little less potent. Mercy on you, man ! the 
 water absolutely hisses down your red-hot gullet, and 
 is converted quite to steam in the miniature tophet 
 which you mistake for a stomach. Fill again, and 
 tell me, on the word of an honest toper, did you ever, 
 in cellar, tavern, or any kind of a dram shop, spend 
 the price of your children s food for a swig half so 
 delicious? Now, for the first time these ten years, 
 you know the flavor of cold water. Good-by ; and, 
 whenever you are thirsty, remember that I keep a 
 constant supply at the old stand. Who next? O, 
 my little friend, you are let loose from school, and 
 come hither to scrub your blooming face, and drown 
 the memory of certain taps of the ferule, and other 
 school-boy troubles, in a draught from the Town Pump. 
 Take it, pure as the current of your young life. Take 
 it, and may your heart and tongue never be scorched 
 with a fiercer thirst than now ! There, my dear child, 
 put down the cup, and yield your place to this elderly 
 gentleman, who treads so tenderly over the paving- 
 stones, that I suspect he is afraid of breaking them. 
 What ! he limps by, without so much as thanking me, 
 as if my hospitable offers were meant only for people 
 who have no wine cellars. Well, well, sir no harm 
 done, I hope ! Go draw the cork, tip the decanter ; 
 but, when your great toe shall set you a-roaring, it 
 will be no affair of mine. If gentlemen love the pleas 
 ant titillation of the gout, it is all one to the Town 
 Pump. This thirsty dog, with his red tongue lolling 
 out, does not scorn my hospitality, but stands on his 
 hind legs, and laps eagerly out of the trough. See 
 how lightly he capers away again ! Jowler, did your 
 worship ever have the gout ? 
 
168 TWICE-TOLD TALES. 
 
 Are you all satisfied? Then wipe your mouths, 
 my good friends ; and, while my spout has a moment s 
 leisure, I will delight the town with a few historical 
 reminiscences. In far antiquity, beneath a darksome 
 shadow of venerable boughs, a spring bubbled out of 
 the leaf-strewn earth, in the very spot where you now 
 behold me, on the sunny pavement. The water was 
 as bright and clear, and deemed as precious, as liquid 
 diamonds. The Indian sagamores drank of it from 
 time immemorial, till the fatal deluge of the fire water 
 burst upon the red men, and swept their whole race 
 away from the cold fountains. Endicott and his fol 
 lowers came next, and often knelt down to drink, dip 
 ping their long beards in the spring. The richest 
 goblet, then, was of birch bark. Governor Winthrop, 
 after a journey afoot from Boston, drank here, out of 
 the hollow of his hand. The elder Higginson here 
 wet his palm, and laid it on the brow of the first town- 
 born child. For many years it was the watering-place, 
 and, as it were, the washbowl of the vicinity whither 
 all decent folks resorted, to purify their visages and 
 gaze at them afterwards at least the pretty maidens 
 did in the mirror which it made. On Sabbath days, 
 whenever a babe was to be baptized, the sexton filled 
 his basin here, and placed it on the communion table 
 of the humble meeting-house, which partly covered the 
 site of yonder stately brick one. Thus, one generation 
 after another was consecrated to Heaven by its waters, 
 and cast their waxing and waning shadows into its 
 
 O O 
 
 glassy bosom, and vanished from the earth, as if mor 
 tal life were but a flitting image in a fountain. Finally, 
 the fountain vanished also. Cellars were dug on all 
 sides, and cartloads of gravel flung upon its source, 
 whence oozed a turbid stream, forming a mud puddle, 
 
A RILL FROM THE TOWN PUMP. 169 
 
 at the corner of two streets. In the hot months, when 
 its refreshment was most needed, the dust flew in 
 clouds over the forgotten birthplace of the waters, now 
 their grave. But, in the course of time, a Town Pump 
 was sunk into the source of the ancient spring ; and 
 when the first decayed, another took its place and 
 then another, and still another till here stand I, 
 gentlemen and ladies, to serve you with my iron goblet. 
 Drink, and be refreshed ! The water is as pure and 
 cold as that which slaked the thirst of the red sagamore 
 beneath the aged boughs, though now the gem of the 
 wilderness is treasured under these hot stones, where 
 no shadow falls but from the brick buildings. And 
 be it the moral of my story, that, as this wasted and 
 long-lost fountain is now known and prized again, so 
 shall the virtues of cold water, too little valued since 
 your fathers days, be recognized by all. 
 
 Your pardon, good people! I must interrupt my 
 stream of eloquence, and spout forth a stream of 
 water, to replenish the trough for this teamster and 
 his two yoke of oxen, who have come from Topsfield, 
 or somewhere along that way. No part of my busi 
 ness is pleasanter than the watering of cattle. Look ! 
 how rapidly they lower the watermark on the sides of 
 the trough, till their capacious stomachs are moistened 
 with a gallon or two apiece, and they can afford time 
 to breathe it in, with sighs of calm enjoyment. Now 
 they roll their quiet eyes around the brim of their 
 monstrous drinking vessel. An ox is your true toper. 
 
 But I perceive, my dear auditors, that you are im 
 patient for the remainder of my discourse. Impute it, 
 I beseech you, to no defect of modesty, if I insist a 
 little longer on so fruitful a topic as my own multifa 
 rious merits. It is altogether for your good. The 
 
170 TWICE-TOLD TALES. 
 
 better you think of me, the better men and women 
 will you find yourselves. I shall say nothing of my 
 all-important aid on washing days ; though, on that 
 account alone, I might call myself the household god 
 of a hundred families. Far be it from me also to hint, 
 my respectable friends, at the show of dirty faces 
 which you would present, without my pains to keep 
 you clean. Nor will I remind you how often, when 
 the midnight bells make you tremble for your combus 
 tible town, you have fled to the Town Pump, and 
 found me always at my post, firm amid the confusion, 
 and ready to drain my vital current in your behalf. 
 Neither is it worth while to lay much stress on my 
 claims to a medical diploma, as the physician whose 
 simple rule of practice is preferable to all the nauseous 
 lore which has found men sick or left them so, since 
 the days of Hippocrates. Let us take a broader view 
 of my beneficial influence on mankind. 
 
 No ; these are trifles compared with the merits 
 which wise men concede to me if not in my single 
 self, yet as the representative of a class of being the 
 grand reformer of the age. From my spout, and such 
 spouts as mine, must flow the stream that shall cleanse 
 our earth of the vast portion of its crime and anguish, 
 which has gushed from the fiery fountains of the still. 
 In this mighty enterprise, the cow shall be my great 
 confederate. Milk and water! The TOWN PUMP and 
 the Cow ! Such is the glorious copartnership that 
 shall tear down the distilleries and brewhouses, uproot 
 the vineyards, shatter the cider presses, ruin the tea 
 and coffee trade, and, finally, monopolize the whole 
 business of quenching thirst. Blessed consummation ! 
 Then, Poverty shall pass away from the land, findmg 
 no hovel so wretched where her squalid form may 
 
A RILL FROM THE TOWN PUMP. 171 
 
 shelter itself. Then Disease, for lack of other victims, 
 shall gnaw its own heart, and die. Then Sin, if she 
 do not die, shall lose half her strength. Until now, 
 the frenzy of hereditary fever has raged in the human 
 blood, transmitted from sire to son, and rekindled, in 
 every generation, by fresh draughts of liquid flame. 
 When that inward fire shall be extinguished, the heat 
 of passion cannot but grow cool, and war the drunk 
 enness of nations perhaps will cease. At least, there 
 will be no war of households. The husband and wife, 
 drinking deep of peaceful joy, a calm bliss of tem 
 perate affections, shall pass hand in hand through 
 life, and lie down, not reluctantly, at its protracted 
 close. To them, the past will be no turmoil of mad 
 dreams, nor the future an eternity of such moments as 
 follow the delirium of the drunkard. Their dead faces 
 shall express what their spirits were, and are to be, by 
 a lingering smile of memory and hope. 
 
 Ahem ! Dry work, this speechifying ; especially to 
 an unpractised orator. I never conceived, till now, 
 what toil the temperance lecturers undergo for my sake. 
 Hereafter, they shall have the business to themselves. 
 Do, some kind Christian, pump a stroke or two, just 
 to wet my whistle. Thank you, sir ! My dear hearers, 
 when the world shall have been regenerated by my 
 instrumentality, you will collect your useless vats and 
 liquor casks into one great pile, and make a bonfire 
 in honor of the Town Pump. And, when I shall 
 have decayed, like my predecessors, then, if you revere 
 my memory, let a marble fountain, richly sculptured, 
 take my place upon this spot. Such monuments should 
 be erected everywhere, and inscribed with the names 
 of the distinguished champions of my cause. Now 
 listen, for something very important is to come next. 
 
172 TWICE-TOLD TALES. 
 
 There are two or three honest friends of mine and 
 true friends, I know, they are who nevertheless, by 
 their fiery pugnacity in my behalf, do put me in fear 
 ful hazard of a broken nose or even a total overthrow 
 upon the pavement, and the loss of the treasure which 
 I guard. I pray you, gentlemen, let this fault be 
 amended. Is it decent, think you, to get tipsy with 
 zeal for temperance, and take up the honorable cause 
 of the Town Pump in the style of a toper fighting for 
 his brandy bottle? Or, can the excellent qualities of 
 cold water be not otherwise exemplified than by plung 
 ing, slapdash, into hot water, and wofully scalding 
 yourselves and other people ? Trust me, they may. In 
 the moral warfare which you are to wage and, in 
 deed, in the whole conduct of your lives you cannot 
 choose a better example than myself, who have never 
 permitted the dust and sultry atmosphere, the turbu 
 lence and manifold disquietudes of the world around 
 me, to reach that deep, calm well of purity, which may 
 be called my soul. And whenever I pour out that 
 soul, it is to cool earth s fever or cleanse its stains. 
 
 One o clock! Nay, then, if the dinner bell begins 
 to speak, I may as well hold my peace. Here comes 
 a pretty young girl of my acquaintance, with a large 
 stone pitcher for me to fill. May she draw a husband, 
 while drawing her water, as Rachel did of old. Hold 
 out your vessel, my dear! There it is, full to the 
 brim ; so now run home, peeping at your sweet image 
 in the pitcher as you go ; and forget not, in a glass of 
 my own liquor, to drink " SUCCESS TO THE TCWN 
 PUMP!" 
 
THE GREAT CARBUNCLE. 1 
 
 A MYSTERY OF THE WHITE MOUNTAIN S. 
 
 AT nightfall, once in the olden time, on the rugged 
 side of one of the Crystal Hills, a party of adventurers 
 were refreshing themselves, after a toilsome and fruit 
 less quest for the Great Carbuncle. They had come 
 thither, not as friends nor partners in the enterprise, 
 but each, save one youthful pair, impelled by his own 
 selfish and solitary longing for this wondrous gem. 
 Their feeling of brotherhood, however, was strong 
 enough to induce them to contribute a mutual aid in 
 building a rude hut of branches, and kindling a great 
 fire of shattered pines, that had drifted down the head 
 long current of the Amonoosuck, on the lower bank of 
 which they were to pass the night. There was but one 
 of their number, perhaps, who had become so estranged 
 from natural sympathies, by the absorbing spell of the 
 pursuit, as to acknowledge no satisfaction at the sight 
 of human faces, in the remote and solitary region 
 whither they had ascended. A vast extent of wilder 
 ness lay between them and the nearest settlement, 
 while scant a mile above their heads was that black 
 verge where the hills throw off their shaggy mantle 
 of forest trees, and either robe themselves in clouds 
 
 1 The Indian tradition, on which this somewhat extravagant tale is 
 founded, is both too wild and too l>eautiful to be adequately wrought 
 up in prose. Sullivan, in his History of Maine, written since the Rev 
 olution, remarks, that even then the existence of the Great Carbuncle 
 was not entirely discredited. 
 
174 TWICE-TOLD TALES. 
 
 or tower naked into the sky. The roar of the Amo- 
 noosuck would have been too awful for endurance if 
 only a solitary man had listened, while the mountain 
 stream talked with the wind. 
 
 The adventurers, therefore, exchanged hospitable 
 greetings, and welcomed one another to the hut, where 
 each man was the host, and all were the guests of the 
 whole company. They spread their individual sup 
 plies of food on the flat surface of a rock, and partook 
 of a general repast ; at the close of which, a sentiment 
 of good fellowship was perceptible among the party, 
 though repressed by the idea, that the renewed search 
 for the Great Carbuncle must make them strangers 
 again in the morning. Seven men and one young 
 woman, they warmed themselves together at the fire, 
 which extended its bright wall along the whole front 
 of their wigwam. As they observed the various and 
 contrasted figures that made up the assemblage, each 
 man looking like a caricature of himself, in the un 
 steady light that flickered over him, they came mutu 
 ally to the conclusion, that an odder society had never 
 met, in city or wilderness, on mountain or plain. 
 
 The eldest of the group, a tall, lean, weather-beaten 
 man, some sixty years of age, was clad in the skins of 
 wild animals, whose fashion of dress he did well to 
 imitate, since the deer, the wolf, and the bear, had 
 long been his most intimate companions. He was one 
 of those ill-fated mortals, such as the Indians told of, 
 whom, in their early youth, the Great Carbuncle srnote 
 with a peculiar madness, and became the passionate 
 dream of their existence. All who visited that region 
 knew him as the Seeker, and by no other name. As 
 none could remember when he first took up the search, 
 there went a fable in the valley of the Saco, that foi 
 
THE GREAT CARBUNCLE. 17o 
 
 his inordinate lust after the Great Carbuncle, he had 
 been condemned to wander among the mountains till 
 the end of time, still with the same feverish hopes at 
 sunrise the same despair at eve. Near this misera 
 ble Seeker sat a little elderly personage, wearing a 
 high-crowned hat, shaped somewhat like a crucible. 
 He was from beyond the sea, a Doctor Cacaphodel, 
 who had wilted and dried himself into a mummy by 
 continually stooping over charcoal furnaces, and in 
 haling unwholesome fumes during his researches in 
 chemistry and alchemy. It was told of him, whether 
 truly or not, that, at the commencement of his studies, 
 he had drained his body of all its richest blood, and 
 wasted it, with other inestimable ingredients, in an 
 unsuccessful experiment and had never been a well 
 man since. Another of the adventurers was Master 
 Ichabod Pigsnort, a weighty merchant and selectman 
 of Boston, and an elder of the famous Mr. Norton s 
 church. His enemies had a ridiculous story that Mas 
 ter Pigsnort was accustomed to spend a whole hour 
 after prayer time, every morning and evening, in wal 
 lowing naked among an immense quantity of pine-tree 
 shillings, which were the earliest silver coinage of Mas 
 sachusetts. The fourth whom we shall notice had no 
 name that his companions knew of, and was chiefly 
 distinguished by a sneer that always contorted his thin 
 visage, and by a prodigious pair of spectacles, which 
 were supposed to deform and discolor the whole face 
 of nature, to this gentleman s perception. The fifth 
 adventurer likewise lacked a name, which was the 
 greater pity, as he appeared to be a poet. He was a 
 bright-eyed man, but wofully pined away, which was 
 no more than natural, if, as some people affirmed, his 
 ordinary diet was fog, morning mist, and a slice of the 
 
176 TWICE-TOLD TALES. 
 
 densest cloud within his reach, sauced with moonshine, 
 whenever he could get it. Certain it is, that the po 
 etry which flowed from him had a smack of all these 
 dainties. The sixth of the party was a young man of 
 haughty mien, and sat somewhat apart from the rest, 
 wearing his plumed hat loftily among his elders, while 
 the fire glittered on the rich embroidery of his dress, 
 and gleamed intensely on the jewelled pommel of his 
 sword. This was the Lord de Vere, who, when at 
 home, was said to spend much of his time in the burial 
 vault of his dead progenitors, rummaging their mouldy 
 coffins in search of all the earthly pride and vainglory 
 that was hidden among bones and dust ; so that, be 
 sides his own share, he had the collected haughtiness 
 of his whole line of ancestry. 
 
 Lastly, there was a handsome youth in rustic garb, 
 and by his side a blooming little person, in whom a 
 delicate shade of maiden reserve was just melting into 
 the rich glow of a young wife s affection. Her name 
 was Hannah, and her husband s Matthew ; two homely 
 names, yet well enough adapted to the simple pair, 
 who seemed strangely out of place among the whimsi 
 cal fraternity whose wits had been set agog by the 
 Great Carbuncle. 
 
 Beneath the shelter of one hut, in the bright blaze 
 of the same fire, sat this varied group of adventurers, 
 all so intent upon a single object, that, of whatever 
 else they began to speak, their closing words were 
 sure to be illuminated with the Great Carbuncle. 
 Several related the circumstances that brought them 
 thither. One had listened to a traveller s tale of this 
 marvellous stone in his own distant country, and had 
 immediately been seized with such a thirst for behold 
 ing it as could only be quenched in its intensesj 
 
THE GREAT CARBUNCLE. Ill 
 
 lustre. Another, so long ago as when the famous 
 Captain Smith visited these coasts, had seen it blazing 
 far at sea, and had felt no rest in all the intervening 
 years till now that he took up the search. A third, 
 being encamped on a hunting expedition full forty 
 miles south of the White Mountains, awoke at mid 
 night, and beheld the Great Carbuncle gleaming like 
 a meteor, so that the shadows of the trees fell back 
 ward from it. They spoke of the innumerable at 
 tempts which had been made to reach the spot, and of 
 the singular fatality which had hitherto withheld suc 
 cess from all adventurers, though it might seem so 
 easy to follow to its source a light that overpowered 
 the moon, and almost matched the sun. It was ob 
 servable that each smiled scornfully at the madness of 
 every other in anticipating better fortune than the 
 past, yet nourished a scarcely hidden conviction that 
 he would himself be the favored one. As if to allay 
 their too sanguine hopes, they recurred to the Indian 
 traditions that a spirit kept watch about the gem, and 
 bewildered those who sought it either by removing it 
 from peak to peak of the higher hills, or by calling up 
 a mist from the enchanted lake over which it hung. 
 But these tales were deemed unworthy of credit, all 
 professing to believe that the search had been baffled 
 by want of sagacity or perseverance in the adventur 
 ers, or such other causes as might naturally obstruct 
 the passage to any given point among the intricacies 
 of forest, valley, and mountain. 
 
 In a pause of the conversation the wearer of the 
 prodigious spectacles looked round upon the party, 
 making each individual, in turn, the object of the 
 sneer which invariably dwelt upon his countenance. 
 
 " So, fellow-pilgrims," said he, " here we are, seven 
 
 VOL. I. 12 
 
178 TWICE-TOLD TALES. 
 
 wise men, and one fair damsel who, doubtless, is as 
 wise as any graybeard of the company : here we are, 
 I say, all bound on the same goodly enterprise. Me- 
 thinks, now, it were not amiss that each of us declare 
 what he proposes to do with the Great Carbuncle, 
 provided he have the good hap to clutch it. What 
 says our friend in the bear skin ? How mean you, 
 good sir, to enjoy the prize which you have been seek 
 ing, the Lord knows how long, among the Crystal 
 Hills?" 
 
 " How enjoy it ! " exclaimed the aged Seeker, bit 
 terly. " I hope for no enjoyment from it ; that folly 
 has passed long ago ! I keep up the search for this 
 accursed stone because the vain ambition of my youth 
 has become a fate upon me in old age. The pur 
 suit alone is my strength, the energy of my soul, 
 the warmth of my blood, and the pith and marrow 
 of my bones ! Were I to turn my back upon it I 
 should fall down dead on the hither side of the Notch, 
 which is the gateway of this mountain region. Yet 
 not to have my wasted lifetime back again would I 
 give up my hopes of the Great Carbuncle ! Having 
 found it, I shall bear it to a certain cavern that I wot 
 of, and there, grasping it in my arms, lie down and 
 die, and keep it buried with me forever." 
 
 " O wretch, regardless of the interests of science ! " 
 cried Doctor Cacaphodel, with philosophic indigna 
 tion. " Thou art not worthy to behold, even from 
 afar off, the lustre of this most precious gem that ever 
 was concocted in the laboratory of Nature. Mine is 
 the sole purpose for which, a wise man may desire the 
 possession of the Great Carbuncle. Immediately* on 
 obtaining it for I have a presentiment, good people, 
 that the prize is reserved to crown my scientific repu 
 
THE GREAT CARBUNCLE. 179 
 
 tation I shall return to Europe, and employ my re 
 maining years in reducing it to its first elements. A 
 portion of the stone will I grind to impalpable pow 
 der ; other parts shall be dissolved in acids, or what 
 ever solvents will act upon so admirable a composi 
 tion ; and the remainder I design to melt in the cruci 
 ble, or set on fire with the blow-pipe. By these various 
 methods I shall gain an accurate analysis, and finally 
 bestow the result of my labors upon the world in a 
 folio volume." 
 
 44 Excellent ! " quoth the man with the spectacles. 
 " Nor need you hesitate, learned sir, on account of the 
 necessary destruction of the gem ; since the perusal 
 of your folio may teach every mother s son of us to 
 concoct a Great Carbuncle of his own." 
 
 44 But, verily," said Master Ichabod Pigsnort, * for 
 mine own part I object to the making of these coun 
 terfeits, as being calculated to reduce the marketable 
 value of the true gem. I tell ye frankly, sirs, I have 
 an interest in keeping up the price. Here have I 
 quitted my regular traffic, leaving my warehouse in 
 the care of my clerks, and putting my credit to great 
 hazard, and, furthermore, have put myself in peril of 
 death or captivity by the accursed heathen savages 
 and all this without daring to ask the prayers of the 
 congregation, because the quest for the Great Car 
 buncle is deemed little better than a traffic with the 
 Evil One. Now think ye that I would have done this 
 grievous wrong to my soul, body, reputation, and es 
 tate, without a reasonable chance of profit ? " 
 
 44 Not I, pious Master Pigsnort," said the man with 
 the spectacles. 44 1 never laid such a great folly to 
 thy charge." 
 
 44 Truly, I hope not," said the merchant. 44 Now. 
 
180 TWICE-TOLD TALES. 
 
 as touching this Great Carbuncle, I am free to own 
 that I have never had a glimpse of it ; but be it only 
 the hundredth part so bright as people tell, it will 
 surely outvalue the Great Mogul s best diamond, which 
 he holds at an incalculable sum. Wherefore, I am 
 minded to put the Great Carbuncle on shipboard, and 
 voyage with it to England, France, Spain, Italy, or 
 into Heathendom, if Providence should send me 
 thither, and, in a word, dispose of the gem to the best 
 bidder among the potentates of the earth, that he may 
 place it among his crown jewels. If any of ye have a 
 wiser plan, let him expound it." 
 
 " That have I, thou sordid man ! " exclaimed the 
 poet. " Dost thou desire nothing brighter than gold 
 that thou wouldst transmute all this ethereal lustre 
 into such dross as thou wallowest in already ? For 
 myself, hiding the jewel under my cloak, I shall hie 
 me back to my attic chamber, in one of the darksome 
 alleys of London. There, night and day, will I gaze 
 upon it ; my soul shall drink its radiance ; it shall 
 be diffused throughout my intellectual powers, and 
 gleam brightly in every line of poesy that I indite. 
 Thus, long ages after I am gone, the splendor of the 
 Great Carbuncle will blaze around my name ! " 
 
 " Well said, Master Poet ! " cried he of the specta 
 cles. " Hide it under thy cloak, sayest thou ? Why, 
 it will gleam through the holes, and make thee look 
 like a jack-o -lantern ! " 
 
 " To think ! " ejaculated the Lord de Vere, rather 
 to himself than his companions, the best of whom he 
 held utterly unworthy of his intercourse u to think 
 that a fellow in a tattered cloak should talk of convey 
 ing the Great Carbuncle to a garret in Grub Street I 
 Have not I resolved within myself that the whole 
 
THE GREAT CARBUNCLE. 181 
 
 earth contains no fitter ornament for the great hall of 
 my ancestral castle? There shall it flame for ages, 
 making a noonday of midnight, glittering on the suits 
 of armor, the banners, and escutcheons, that hang 
 around the wall, and keeping bright the memory of 
 heroes. Wherefore have all other adventurers sought 
 the prize in vain but that I might win it, and make it 
 a symbol of the glories of our lofty line? And never, 
 on the diadem of the White Mountains, did the Great 
 Carbuncle hold a place half so honored as is reserved 
 for it in the hall of the De Veres ! " 
 
 " It is a noble thought," said the Cynic, with an ob 
 sequious sneer. " Yet, might I presume to say so, the 
 gem would make a rare sepulchral lamp, and would 
 display the glories of your lordship s progenitors more 
 truly in the ancestral vault than in the castle hall." 
 
 " Nay, forsooth," observed Matthew, the young rus 
 tic, who sat hand in hand with his bride, " the gentle 
 man has bethought himself of a profitable use for tin s 
 bright stone. Hannah here and I are seeking it for a 
 like purpose." 
 
 " How, fellow ! " exclaimed his lordship, in surprise. 
 " What castle hall hast thou to hang it in? " 
 
 " Xo castle," replied Matthew, " but as neat a cot 
 tage as any within sight of the Crystal Hills. Ye 
 must know, friends, that Hannah and I, being wedded 
 the last week, have taken up the search of the Great 
 Carbuncle, because we shall need its light in the long 
 winter evenings ; and it will be such a pretty thing to 
 show the neighbors when they visit us. It will shine 
 through the house so that we may pick up a pin in 
 any corner, and will set all the windows aglowing as 
 if there were a great fire of pine knots in the chimney. 
 Ajid then how pleasant, when we awake in the night, 
 to be able to see one another s faces ! 
 
182 TWICE-TOLD TALES, 
 
 There was a general smile among the adventurers 
 at the simplicity of the young couple s project in re 
 gard to this wondrous and invaluable stone, with which 
 the greatest monarch on earth might have been proud 
 to adorn his palace. Especially the man with specta 
 cles, who had sneered at all the company in turn, now 
 twisted his visage into such an expression of ill-nat 
 tired mirth, that Matthew asked him, rather peevishly, 
 what he himself meant to do with the Great Car 
 buncle. 
 
 " The Great Carbuncle ! " answered the Cynic, with 
 ineffable scorn. " Why, you blockhead, there is 110 
 such thing in rerum natura. I have come three thou 
 sand miles, and am resolved to set my foot on every 
 peak of these mountains, and poke my head into every 
 chasm, for the sole purpose of demonstrating to the 
 satisfaction of any man one whit less an ass than thy 
 self that the Great Carbuncle is all a humbug ! " 
 
 Vain and foolish were the motives that had brought 
 most of the adventurers to the Crystal Hills ; but 
 none so vain, so foolish, and so impious too, as that of 
 the scoffer with the prodigious spectacles. He was 
 one of those wretched and evil men whose yearnings 
 are downward to the darkness, instead of heaven 
 ward, and who, could they but extinguish the lights 
 which God hath kindled for us, would count the mid 
 night gloom their chief est glory. As the Cynic spoke, 
 several of the party were startled by a gleam of red 
 splendor, that showed the huge shapes of the sur 
 rounding mountains and the rock-bestrewn bed of the 
 turbulent river with an illumination unlike that of 
 their fire on the trunks and black boughs of the 
 forest trees. They listened for the roll of thunder, 
 but heard nothing, and were glad that the tempest 
 
THE GREAT CARBUNCLE. 183 
 
 came not near them. The stars, those dial points of 
 heaven, now warned the adventurers to close their 
 eyes on the blazing logs, and open them, in dreams, to 
 the glow of the Great Carbuncle. 
 
 The young married couple had taken their lodgings 
 in the farthest corner of the wigwam, and were sepa 
 rated from the rest of the party by a curtain of 
 curiously-woven twigs, such as might have hung, in 
 deep festoons, around the bridal-bower of Eve. The 
 modest little wife had wrought this piece of tapestry 
 while the other guests were talking. She and her 
 husband fell asleep with hands tenderly clasped, and 
 awoke from visions of unearthly radiance to meet the 
 more blessed light of one another s eyes. They awoke 
 at the same instant, and with one happy smile beam 
 ing over their two faces, which grew brighter with 
 their consciousness of the reality of life and love. 
 But no sooner did she recollect where they were, than 
 the bride peeped through the interstices of the leafy 
 curtain, and saw that the outer room of the hut was 
 deserted. 
 
 "Up, dear Matthew!" cried she, in haste. "The 
 strange folk are all gone ! Up, this very minute, or 
 we shall loose the Great Carbuncle ! " 
 
 In truth, so little did these poor young people de 
 serve the mighty prize which had lured them thither, 
 that they had slept peacefully all night, and till the 
 summits of the hills were glittering with sunshine ; 
 while the other adventurers had tossed their limbs in 
 feverish wakefulness, or dreamed of climbing preci 
 pices, and set off to realize their dreams with the 
 earliest peep of dawn. But Matthew and Hannah, 
 after their calm rest, were as light as two young deer, 
 and merely stopped to say their prayers and wash 
 
184 TWICE-TOLD TALES. 
 
 themselves in a cold pool of the Amonoosuck, and 
 then to taste a morsel of food, ere they turned their 
 faces to the mountain-side. It was a sweet emblem of 
 conjugal affection, as they toiled up the difficult as 
 cent, gathering strength from the mutual aid which 
 they afforded. After several little accidents, such as 
 a torn robe, a lost shoe, and the entanglement of Han 
 nah s hair in a bough, they reached the upper verge of 
 the forest, and were now to pursue a more adventu 
 rous course. The innumerable trunks and heavy fo 
 liage of the trees had hitherto shut in their thoughts, 
 which now shrank affrighted from the region of wind 
 and cloud and naked rocks and desolate sunshine, that 
 rose immeasurably above them. They gazed back at 
 the obscure wilderness which they had traversed, and 
 longed to be buried again in its depths rather than 
 trust themselves to so vast and visible a solitude. 
 
 " Shall we go on?" said Matthew, throwing his arm 
 round Hannah s waist, both to protect her and to com 
 fort his heart by drawing her close to it. 
 
 But the little bride, simple as she was, had a 
 woman s love of jewels, and could not forego the hope 
 of possessing the very brightest in the world, in spite 
 of the perils with which it must be won. 
 
 " Let us climb a little higher," whispered she, yet 
 tremulously, as she turned her face upward to the 
 lonely sky. 
 
 " Come, then," said Matthew, mustering his manly 
 courage and drawing her along with him, for she be 
 came timid again the moment that he grew bold. 
 
 And upward, accordingly, went the pilgrims of the 
 Great Carbuncle, now treading upon the tops and 
 thickly-interwoven branches of dwarf pines, which, by 
 the growth of centuries, though mossy with age, had 
 
THE GREAT CARBUNCLE. 185 
 
 barely reached three feet in altitude. Xext, they 
 came to masses and fragments of naked rock heaped 
 confusedly together, like a cairn reared by giants in 
 nemory of a giant chief. In this bleak realm of 
 ipper air nothing breathed, nothing grew ; there was 
 io life but what was concentrated in their two hearts, 
 they had climbed so high that Nature herself seemed 
 no longer to keep them company. She lingered be 
 neath them, within the verge of the forest trees, and 
 sent a farewell glance after her children as they 
 strayed where her own green footprints had never 
 been. But soon they were to be hidden from her eye. 
 Densely and dark the mists began to gather below, 
 casting black spots of shadow on the vast landscape, 
 and sailing heavily to one centre, as if the loftiest 
 mountain peak had summoned a council of its kindred 
 clouds. Finally, the vapors welded themselves, as it 
 were, into a mass, presenting the appearance of a 
 pavement over which the wanderers might have 
 trodden, but where they would vainly have sought an 
 avenue to the blessed earth which they had lost. And 
 the lovers yearned to behold that green earth again, 
 more intensely, alas! than, beneath a clouded sky, 
 ihey had ever desired a glimpse of heaven. They 
 even felt it a relief to their desolation when the 
 mists, creeping gradually up the mountain, concealed 
 its lonely peak, and thus annihilated, at least for 
 them, the whole region of visible space. But they 
 drew closer together, with a fond and melancholy 
 gaze, dreading lest the universal cloud should snatch 
 them from each other s sight. 
 
 Still, perhaps, they would have been resolute to 
 elimb as far and as high, between earth and heaven, 
 us they could find foothold, if Hannah s strength had 
 
186 TWICE-TOLD TALES. 
 
 not begun to fail, and with that, her courage also. 
 Her breath grew short. She refused to burden her 
 husband with her weight, but often tottered against 
 his side, and recovered herself each time by a feebler 
 effort. At last, she sank down on one of the rocky 
 steps of the acclivity. 
 
 " We are lost, dear Matthew," said she, mournfully. 
 "We shall never find our way to the earth again. 
 And oh how happy we might have been in our cot 
 tage ! " 
 
 "Dear heart! wo will yet be happy there," an 
 swered Matthew. " Look ! In this direction, the sun 
 shine penetrates the dismal mist. By its aid, I can 
 direct our course to the passage of the Notch. Let 
 us go back, love, and dream no more of the Great 
 Carbuncle ! " 
 
 " The sun cannot be yonder," said Hannah, with 
 despondence. " By this time it must be noon. If 
 there could ever be any sunshine here, it would come 
 from above our heads." 
 
 " But look ! " repeated Matthew, in a somewhat 
 altered tone. " It is brightening every moment. If 
 not sunshine, what can it be ? " 
 
 Nor could the young bride any longer deny that a 
 radiance was breaking through the mist, and changing 
 its dim hue to a dusky red, which continually grew 
 more vivid, as if brilliant particles were interfused 
 with the gloom. Now, also, the cloud began to roll 
 away from the mountain, while, as it heavily with 
 drew, one object after another started out of its im 
 penetrable obscurity into sight, with precisely the ef 
 fect of a new creation, before the indistinctness of the 
 old chaos had been completely swallowed up. As the 
 process went on, they saw the gleaming of water close 
 
THE GREAT CARBUNCLE. 187 
 
 at their feet, and found themselves on the very border 
 of a mountain lake, deep, bright, clear, and calmly 
 beautiful, spreading from brim to brim of a basin that 
 had been scooped out of the solid rock. A ray of 
 glory flashed across its surface. The pilgrims looked 
 whence it should proceed, but closed their eyes with 
 a thrill of awful admiration, to exclude tho fervid 
 splendor that glowed from the brow of a cliff impend 
 ing over the enchanted lake. For the simple pair had 
 reached that lake of mystery, and found the long- 
 sought shrine of the Great Carbuncle ! 
 
 They threw their arms around each other, and 
 trembled at their own success ; for, as the legends of 
 this wondrous gem rushed thick upon their memory, 
 they felt themselves marked out by fate and the 
 consciousness was fearful. Often, from childhood up 
 ward, they had seen it shining like a distant star. And 
 now that star was throwing its intensest lustre on their 
 hearts. They seemed changed to one another s eyes, 
 in the red brilliancy that flamed upon their cheeks, 
 while it lent the same fire to the lake, the rocks, and 
 sky, and to the mists which had rolled back before its 
 power. But, with their next glance, they beheld an 
 object that drew their attention even from the mighty 
 stone. At the base of the cliff, directly beneath the 
 Great Carbuncle, appeared the figure of a man, with 
 his arms extended in the act of climbing, and his face 
 turned upward, as if to drink the full gush of splendor. 
 Bat ho stirred not. no more than if changed to marble, 
 
 " It is the Seeker," whispered Hannah, convulsively 
 grasping her husband s arm. " Matthew, he is dead. 
 
 " The joy of success has killed him," replied Mat 
 thew, trembling violently. " Or, perhaps, the very 
 light of the Great Carbuncle was death ! " 
 
188 TWICE-TOLD TALES. 
 
 " The Great Carbuncle," cried a peevish voice be 
 hind them. " The Great Humbug ! If you have 
 found it, prithee point it out to me." 
 
 They turned their heads, and there was the Cynic, 
 with his prodigious spectacles set carefully on his 
 nose, staring now at the lake, now at the rocks, now 
 at the distant masses of vapor, now right at the Great 
 Carbuncle itself, yet seemingly as unconscious of its 
 light as if all the scattered clouds were condensed 
 about his person. Though its radiance actually threw 
 the shadow of the unbeliever at his own feet, as he 
 turned his back upon the glorious jewel, he would not 
 be convinced that there was the least glimmer there. 
 
 "Where is your Great Humbug?" he repeated. 
 " I challenge you to make me see it ! " 
 
 " There," said Matthew, incensed at such perverse 
 blindness, and turning the Cynic round towards the 
 illuminated cliff. " Take off those abominable spec 
 tacles, and you cannot help seeing it ! " 
 
 Now these colored spectacles probably darkened 
 the Cynic s sight, in at least as great a degree as the 
 smoked glasses through which people gaze at an 
 eclipse. With resolute bravado, however, he snatched 
 them from his nose, and fixed a bold stare full upon 
 the ruddy blaze of the Great Carbuncle. But scarcely 
 had he encountered it, when, with a deep, shuddering 
 groan, he dropped his head, and pressed both hands 
 across his miserable eyes. Thenceforth there was, in 
 very truth, no light of the Great Carbuncle, nor any 
 other light on earth, nor light of heaven itself, for the 
 poor Cynic. So long accustomed to view all objects 
 through a medium that deprived them of every glimpse 
 of brightness, a single flash of so glorious a phenom 
 enon, striking upon his naked vision, had blinded him 
 forever. 
 
THE GREAT CARBUNCLE. 189 
 
 " Matthew," said Hannah, clinging to him, " let us 
 go hence ! " 
 
 Matthew saw that she was faint, and kneeling down, 
 supported her in his arms, while he threw some of the 
 thrillingly cold water of the enchanted lake upon her 
 face and bosom. It revived her, but could not reno 
 vate her courage. 
 
 " Yes, dearest ! " cried Matthew, pressing her tremu 
 lous form to his breast, "we will go hence, and 
 return to our humble cottage. The blessed sunshine 
 and the quiet moonlight shall come through our win 
 dow. We will kindle the cheerful glow of our hearth, 
 at eventide, and be happy in its light. But never 
 again will we desire more light than all the world may 
 share with us." 
 
 " No," said his bride, " for how could we live by 
 day, or sleep by night, in this awf ul blaze of the Great 
 Carbuncle ! " 
 
 Out of the hollow of their hands, they drank each a 
 draught from the lake, which presented them its waters 
 uncontaminated by an earthly lip. Then, lending their 
 guidance to the blinded Cynic, who uttered not a word, 
 and even stifled his groans in his own most wretched 
 heart, they began to descend the mountain. Yet, as 
 they left the shore, till then untrodden, of the spirit s 
 lake, they threw a farewell glance towards the cliff, 
 and beheld the vapors gathering in dense volumes, 
 through which the gem burned duskily. 
 
 As touching the other pilgrims of the Great Car 
 buncle, the legend goes on to tell, that the worshipful 
 Master Ichabod Pigsnort soon gave up the quest as a 
 desperate speculation, and wisely resolved to betake 
 himself again to his warehouse, near the town dock, in 
 Boston. But, as he passed through the Notch of the 
 
190 TWICE-TOLD TALES. 
 
 mountains, a war party of Indians captured our un 
 lucky merchant, and carried him to Montreal, there 
 holding him in bondage, till, by the payment of a 
 heavy ransom, he had wofully subtracted from his 
 hoard of pine-tree shillings. By his long absence, 
 moreover, his affairs had become so disordered that, 
 for the rest of his life, instead of wallowing in silver, 
 he had seldom a sixpence worth of copper. Doctor 
 Cacaphodel, the alchemist, returned to his laboratory 
 with a prodigious fragment of granite, which he ground 
 to powder, dissolved in acids, melted in the crucible, 
 and burned with the blow-pipe, and published the re 
 sult of his experiments in one of the heaviest folios of 
 the day. And, for all these purposes, the gem itself 
 could not have answered better than the granite. The 
 poet, by a somewhat similar mistake, made prize of a 
 great piece of ice, which he found in a sunless chasm 
 of the mountains, and swore that it corresponded, in 
 all points, with his idea of the Great Carbuncle. The 
 critics say, that, if his poetry lacked the splendor of 
 the gem, it retained all the coldness of the ice. Tho 
 Lord de Vere went back to his ancestral hall, where 
 he contented himself with a wax-lighted chandelier, 
 and filled, in due course of time, another coffin in the 
 ancestral vault. As the funeral torches gleamed within 
 that dark receptacle, there was no need of the Great 
 Carbuncle to show the vanity of earthly pomp. 
 
 The Cynic, having cast aside his spectacles, wan 
 dered about the world, a miserable object, and was 
 punished with an agonizing desire of light, for the wil 
 ful blindness of his former life. The whole night long, 
 he would lift his splendor-blasted orbs to the moon 
 and stars ; he turned his face eastward, at sunrise, as 
 duly as a Persian idolater ; he made a pilgrimage to 
 
THE GREAT CARBUNCLE. 191 
 
 Rome, to witness the magnificent illumination of St. 
 Peter s Church; and finally perished in the great fire 
 of London, into the midst of which he had thrust him 
 self, with the desperate idea of catching one feeble ray 
 from the blaze that was kindling earth and heaven. 
 
 Matthew and his bride spent many peaceful years, 
 and were fond of telling the legend of the Great Car 
 buncle. The tale, however, towards the close of their 
 lengthened lives, did not meet with the full credence 
 that had been accorded to it by those who remembered 
 the ancient lustre of the gem. For it is affirmed that, 
 from the hour when two mortals had shown themselves 
 so simply wise as to reject a jewel which would have 
 dimmed all earthly things, its splendor waned. When 
 other pilgrims reached the cliff, they found only an 
 opaque stone, with particles of mica glittering on its 
 surface. There is also a tradition that, as the youth- 
 fid pair departed, the gem was loosened from the fore 
 head of the cliff, and fell into the enchanted lake, and 
 that, at noontide, the Seeker s form may still be seen 
 to bend over its quenchless gleam. 
 
 Some few believe that this inestimable stone is blaz 
 ing as of old, and say that they have caught its radi 
 ance, like a flash of summer lightning, far down the 
 the valley of the Saco. And be it owned that, many 
 a mile from the Crystal Hills, I saw a wondrous light 
 around their summits, and was lured, by the faith of 
 poesy, to be the latest pilgrim of the GREAT CAK- 
 
 BU^ CLE. 
 
THE PROPHETIC PICTURES. 1 
 
 " BUT this painter ! " cried Walter Ludlow, witb 
 animation. u He not only excels in his peculiar art, 
 but possesses vast acquirements in all other learning 
 and science. He talks Hebrew with Dr. Mather, and 
 gives lectures in anatomy to Dr. Boylston. In a word, 
 he will meet the best instructed man among us on his 
 own ground. Moreover, he is a polished gentleman 
 a citizen of the world yes, a true cosmopolite ; 
 for he will speak like a native of each clime and coun 
 try of the globe except our own forests, whither he is 
 now going. Nor is all this what I most admire in 
 him." 
 
 " Indeed ! " said Elinor, who had listened with a 
 woman s interest to the description of such a man. 
 " Yet this is admirable enough." 
 
 " Surely it is," replied her lover, " but far less so 
 than his natural gift of adapting himself to every 
 variety of character, insomuch that all men and all 
 women too, Elinor shall find a mirror of themselves 
 in this wonderful painter. But the greatest wonder is 
 yet to be told." 
 
 "Nay, if he have more wonderful attributes thai\ 
 these," said Elinor, laughing, " Boston is a perilous 
 abode for the poor gentleman. Are you telling me oi 
 a painter or a wizard ? " 
 
 1 This story was suggested by an anecdote of Stuart, related in Dun- 
 lap s Hisfori/ of the Arts <>f Design, a most entertaining hook -to the 
 general reader, and a deeply interesting one, we should think, to th 
 artist. 
 
THE PROPHETIC PICTURES. 193 
 
 "In truth," answered he, "that question might be 
 asked much more seriously than you suppose. They 
 say that he paints not merely a man s features, but his 
 mind and heart. He catches the secret sentiments and 
 passions, and throws them upon the canvas, like sun 
 shine or perhaps, in the portraits of dark-souled men, 
 like a gleam of infernal fire. It is an awful gift," 
 added W alter, lowering his voice from its tone of en 
 thusiasm. " I shall be almost afraid to sit to him." 
 
 " Walter, are you in earnest?" exclaimed Elinor. 
 
 " For Heaven s sake, dearest Elinor, do not let him 
 paint the look which you now wear," said her lover, 
 smiling, though rather perplexed. " There : it is pass 
 ing away now, but when you spoke you seemed fright 
 ened to death, and very sad besides. What were you 
 thinking of?" 
 
 " Nothing, nothing," answered Elinor hastily. " You 
 paint my face with your own fantasies. Well, come 
 for me to-morrow, and we will visit this wonderful 
 artist." 
 
 But when the young man had departed, it cannot be 
 denied that a remarkable expression was again visible 
 on the fair and youthful face of his mistress. It was 
 a sad and anxious look, little in accordance with what 
 should have been the feelings of a maiden on the eve 
 of wedlock. Yet Walter Ludlow was the chosen of 
 her heart. 
 
 "A look!" said Elinor to herself. " No wonder 
 that it startled him, if it expressed what I sometimes 
 feel. I know, by my own experience, how frightful a 
 look may be. But it was all fancy. I thought noth 
 ing of it at the time I have seen nothing of it since 
 I did but dream it." 
 
 And she busied herself about the embroidery of a 
 
 VOL I. 13 
 
194 TWICE-TOLD TALES. 
 
 ruff, in which she meant that her portrait should be 
 taken. 
 
 The painter, of whom they had been speaking, was 
 not one of those native artists who, at a later period 
 than this, borrowed their colors from the Indians, and 
 manufactured their pencils of the furs of wild beasts 
 Perhaps, if he could have revoked his life and prear 
 ranged his destiny, he might have chosen to belong to 
 that school without a master, in the hope of being at 
 least original, since there were no works of art to imi 
 tate nor rules to follow. But he had been born and 
 educated in Europe. People said that he had studied 
 the grandeur or beauty of conception, and every touch 
 of the master hand, in all the most famous pictures, in 
 cabinets and galleries, and on the walls of churches, 
 till there was nothing more for his powerful mind to 
 learn. Art could add nothing to its lessons, but Nat 
 ure might. He had therefore visited a world whither 
 none of his professional brethren had preceded him, 
 to feast his eyes on visible images that were noble 
 and picturesque, yet had never been transferred to 
 canvas. America was too poor to afford other temp 
 tations to an artist of eminence, though many of the 
 colonial gentry, on the painter s arrival, had expressed 
 a wish to transmit their lineaments to posterity by 
 means of his skill. Whenever such proposals were 
 made, he fixed his piercing eyes on the applicant, and 
 seemed to look him through and through. If ho be 
 held only a sleek and comfortable visage, though there 
 were a gold-laced coat to adorn the picture and golden 
 guineas to pay for it, he civilly rejected the task and 
 the reward. But if the face were the index of any 
 thing uncommon, in thought, sentiment, or experience ; 
 or if he met a beggar in the street, with a white beard 
 
THE PROPHETIC PICTURES. 195 
 
 and a furrowed brow ; or if sometimes a child hap 
 pened to look tip and smile, he would exhaust all the 
 art on them that he denied to wealth. 
 
 Pictorial skill being so rare in the colonies, the 
 painter became an object of general curiosity. If few 
 or none coidd appreciate the technical merit of his 
 productions, yet there were points, in regard to which 
 the opinion of the crowd was as valuable as the refined 
 judgment of the amateur. He watched the effect that 
 each picture produced on such untutored beholders, and 
 derived profit from their remarks, while they would 
 as soon have thought of instructing Nature herself as 
 him who seemed to rival her. Their admiration, it 
 must be owned, was tinctured with the prejudices of 
 the age and country. Some deemed it an offence 
 against the Mosaic law, and even a presumptuous 
 mockery of the Creator, to bring into existence such 
 lively images of his creatures. Others, frightened at 
 the art which could raise phantoms at will, and keep 
 the form of the dead among the living, were inclined 
 to consider the painter as a magician, or perhaps the 
 famous Black Man, of old witch times, plotting mis 
 chief in a new guise. These foolish fancies were more 
 than half believed among the mob. Even in superior 
 circles his character was invested with a vague awe, 
 partly rising like smoke wreaths from the popular 
 superstitions, but chiefly caused by the varied knowl 
 edge and talents which he made subservient to his 
 profession. 
 
 Being on the eve of marriage, Walter Ludlow and 
 Elinor were eager to obtain their portraits, as the first 
 of what, they doubtless hoped, would be a long series 
 of family pictures. The day after the conversation 
 above recorded they visited the painter s rooms. A 
 
196 TWICfE-TOLD TALES. 
 
 servant ushered them into an apartment, where, though 
 the artist himself was not visible, there were person 
 ages whom they could hardly forbear greeting with 
 reverence. They knew, indeed, that the whole assem 
 bly were but pictures, yet felt it impossible to separate 
 the idea of life and intellect from such striking coun 
 terfeits. Several of the portraits were known to them, 
 either as distinguished characters of the day or their 
 private acquaintances. There was Governor Burnett, 
 looking as if ho had just received an undutiful com 
 munication from the House of Representatives, and 
 were inditing a most sharp response. Mr. Cooke hung 
 beside the ruler whom he opposed, sturdy, and some 
 what puritanical, as befitted a popular leader. The 
 ancient lady of Sir William Phipps eyed them from 
 the wall, in ruff and farthingale, an imperious old 
 dame, not unsuspected of witchcraft. John Win slow, 
 then a very young man, wore the expression of war 
 like enterprise, which long afterwards made him a dis 
 tinguished general. Their personal friends were rec 
 ognized at a glance. In most of the pictures, the 
 whole mind and character were brought out on the 
 countenance, and concentrated into a single look, so 
 that, to speak paradoxically, the originals hardly re 
 sembled themselves so strikingly as the portraits did. 
 Among" these modern worthies there were two old 
 
 o 
 
 bearded Saints, who had almost vanished into the dark 
 ening canvas. There was also a pale, but unfaded 
 Madonna, who had perhaps been worshipped in Rome, 
 and now regarded the lovers with such a mild and 
 holy look that they longed to worship too. 
 
 " How singular a thought," observed Walter Lud- 
 low, "that this beautiful face has been beautiful for 
 above two hundred years ! Oh, if all beauty would en- 
 dure so well ! Do you not envy her, Elinor ? " 
 
THE PROPHETIC PICTURES. 197 
 
 44 If earth were heaven, I might," she replied. 
 " But where all tilings fade, how miserable to be the 
 one that cpnld not fade ! " 
 
 "This dark old St. Peter has a fierce and ugly 
 scowl, saint though he be," continued Walter. " He 
 troubles me. But the Virgin looks kindly at us." 
 
 " Yes ; but very sorrowfully, inethinks," said Elinor. 
 
 The easel stood beneath these three old pictures, 
 sustaining one that had been recently commenced. 
 After a little inspection, they began to recognize the 
 features of their own minister, the Rev. Dr. Colman, 
 growing into shape and life, as it were, out of a cloud. 
 
 44 Kind old man ! " exclaimed Elinor. 44 He gazes 
 at me as if he were about to utter a word of paternal 
 advice." 
 
 44 And at me," said Walter, u as if he were about to 
 shake his head and rebuke me for some suspected in 
 iquity. But so does the original. I shall never feel 
 quite comfortable under his eye till we stand before 
 him to be married." 
 
 They now heard a footstep on the floor, and turning, 
 beheld the painter, who had been some moments in 
 the room, and had listened to a few of their remarks. 
 He was a middle-aged man, with a countenance well 
 worthy of his own pencil. Indeed, by the picturesque, 
 though careless arrangement of his rich dress, and, 
 perhaps, because his soul dwelt always among painted 
 shapes, he looked somewhat like a portrait himself. 
 His visitors were sensible of a kindred between the 
 artist and his works, and felt as if one of the pictures 
 had stepped from the canvas to salute them. 
 
 Walter Ludlow, who was slightly known to the 
 painter, explained the object of their visit. While he 
 spoke, a sunbeam was falling athwart his figure and 
 
198 TWICE-TOLD TALES. 
 
 Elinor s, with so happy an effect that they also seemed 
 living pictures of youth and beauty, gladdened by 
 bright fortune. The artist was evidently struck. 
 
 " My easel is occupied for several ensuing days, and 
 my stay in Boston must be brief," said he, thought 
 fully; then, after an observant glance, he added: 
 "but your wishes shall be gratified, though I disap 
 point the Chief Justice and Madam Oliver. I must 
 not lose this opportunity, for the sake of painting a 
 few ells of broadcloth and brocade." 
 
 The painter expressed a desire to introduce both 
 their portraits into one picture, and represent them 
 engaged in some appropriate action. This plan would 
 have delighted the lovers, but was necessarily rejected, 
 because so large a space of canvas would have been 
 unfit for the room which it was intended to decorate. 
 Two half-length portraits were therefore fixed upon. 
 After they had taken leave, Walter Ludlow asked 
 Elinor, with a smile, whether she knew what an influ 
 ence over their fates the painter was about to acquire. 
 
 " The old women of Boston affirm," continued he, 
 "that after he has once got possession of a person s 
 face and figure, he may paint him in any act or situa 
 tion whatever and the picture will be prophetic. Do 
 you believe it ? " 
 
 " Not quite," said Elinor, smiling. " Yet if he has 
 such magic, there is something so gentle in his man 
 ner that I am sure he will use it well." 
 
 It was the painter s choice to proceed with both the 
 portraits at the same time, assigning as a reason, in 
 the mystical language which he sometimes used, that 
 the faces threw light upon each other. Accordingly 
 he gave now a touch to Walter, and now to Elinor, 
 and the features of one and the other began to start 
 
THE PROPHETIC PICTURES. 199 
 
 forth so vividly that it appeared as if his triumphant 
 art would actually disengage them from the canvas. 
 Amid the rich light and deep shade, they beheld their 
 phantom selves. But, though the likeness promised 
 to be perfect, they were not quite satisfied with the 
 expression ; it seemed more vague than in most of the 
 painter s works. He, however, was satisfied with the 
 prospect of success, and being much interested in the 
 lovers, employed his leisure moments, unknown to 
 them, in making a crayon sketch of their two figures. 
 During their sittings, he engaged them in conversation, 
 and kindled up their faces with characteristic traits, 
 which, though continually varying, it was his purpose 
 to combine and fix. At length he announced that at 
 their next visit both the portraits woidd be ready for 
 delivery. 
 
 " If my pencil will but be true to my conception, in 
 the few last touches which I meditate," observed he, 
 " these two pictures will be my very best performances. 
 Seldom, indeed, has an artist such subjects/ 
 
 While speaking, he still bent his penetrative eye 
 upon them, nor withdrew it till they had reached the 
 bottom of the stairs. 
 
 Nothing, in the whole circle of human vanities, takes 
 stronger hold of the imagination than this affair of 
 having a portrait painted. Yet why should it be so ? 
 The looking-glass, the polished globes of the andirons, 
 the mirror-like water, and all other reflecting surfaces, 
 continually present us with portraits, or rather ghosts, 
 of ourselves, which we glance at, and straightway for 
 get them. But we forget them only because they 
 vanish. It is the idea of duration of earthly im 
 mortality that gives such a mysterious interest to 
 our own portraits. Walter and Elinor were not in- 
 
200 TWICE-TOLD TALES. 
 
 sensible to this feeling, and hastened to the painter s 
 room, punctually at the appointed hour, to meet those 
 pictured shapes which were to be their representatives 
 with posterity. The sunshine flashed after them into 
 the apartment, but left it somewhat gloomy as they 
 closed the door. 
 
 Their eyes were immediately attracted to their por 
 traits, which rested against the farthest wall of the 
 room. At the first glance, through the dim light and 
 the distance, seeing themselves in precisely their nat 
 ural attitudes, and with all the air that they recognized 
 so well, they uttered a simultaneous exclamation of 
 delight. 
 
 "There we stand," cried Walter, enthusiastically, 
 "fixed in sunshine forever! No dark passions can 
 gather on our faces ! " 
 
 " No," said Elinor, more calmly ; " no dreary 
 change can sadden us." 
 
 This was said while they were approaching, and 
 had yet gained only an imperfect view of the pictures. 
 The painter, after saluting them, busied himself at a 
 table in completing a crayon sketch, leaving his visit 
 ors to form their own judgment as to his perfected 
 labors. At intervals, he sent a glance from beneath 
 his deep eyebrows, watching their countenances in 
 profile, with his pencil suspended over the sketch. 
 They had now stood some moments, each in front of 
 the other s picture, contemplating it with entranced 
 attention, but without uttering a word. At length, 
 Walter stepped forward then back viewing Eli 
 nor s portrait in various lights, and finally spoke. 
 
 " Is there not a change ? " said he, in a doubtful 
 and meditative tone. " Yes ; the perception of it 
 grows more vivid the longer I look. It ie certainly 
 
THE PROPHETIC PICTURES. 201 
 
 the same picture that I saw yesterday ; the dress 
 the features all are the same ; and yet something is 
 altered." 
 
 "Is then the picture less like than it was yester 
 day? inquired the painter, now drawing near, with 
 irrepressible interest. 
 
 4 * The features are perfect, Elinor/ answered Wal 
 ter, " and, at the first glance, the expression seemed 
 also hers. But, I could fancy that the portrait has 
 changed countenance, while I have been looking at it. 
 The eyes are fixed on mine with a strangely sad and 
 anxious expression. Nay, it is grief and terror ! Is 
 this like Elinor ? " 
 
 " Compare the living face with the pictured one," 
 said the painter. 
 
 Walter glanced sidelong at his mistress, and started. 
 Motionless and absorbed fascinated, as it were in 
 contemplation of Walter s portrait, Elinor s face had 
 assumed precisely the expression of which he had just 
 been complaining. Had she practised for whole hours 
 before a mirror, she could not have caught the look so 
 successfully. Had the picture itself been a mirror, it 
 could not have thrown back her present aspect with 
 stronger and more melancholy truth. She appeared 
 quite unconscious of the dialogue between the artist 
 and her lover. 
 
 " Elinor," exclaimed Walter, in amazement, " what 
 change has come over you ? " 
 
 She did not hear him, nor desist from her fixed 
 gaze, till he seized her hand, and thus attracted her 
 notice ; then, with a sudden tremor, she looked from 
 the picture to the face of the original. 
 
 " Do you see no change in your portrait ? " asked 
 she. 
 
202 TWICE-TOLD TALES. 
 
 "In mine? None ! " replied Walter, examining it. 
 " But let me see ! Yes ; there is a slight change an 
 improvement, I think, in the picture, though none in 
 the likeness. It has a livelier expression than yester 
 day, as if some bright thought were flashing from the 
 eyes, and about to be uttered from the lips. Now 
 that I have caught the look, it becomes very decided." 
 
 While he was intent on these observations, Elinor 
 turned to the painter. She regarded him with grief 
 and awe, and felt that he repaid her with sympathy 
 and commiseration, though wherefore, she could but 
 vaguely guess. 
 
 " That look ! " whispered she, and shuddered. 
 " How came it there ? " 
 
 " Madam," said the painter, sadly, taking her hand, 
 and leading her apart, " in both these pictures, I have 
 painted what I saw. The artist the true artist 
 must look beneath the exterior. It is his gift his 
 proudest, but often a melancholy one to see the in 
 most soul, and, by a power indefinable even to him 
 self, to make it glow or darken upon the canvas, in 
 glances that express the thought and sentiment of 
 years. Would that I might convince myself of error 
 in the present instance ! " 
 
 They had now approached the table, on which were 
 heads in chalk, hands almost as expressive as ordinary 
 faces, ivied church towers, thatched cottages, old thun 
 der-stricken trees, Oriental and antique costume, and 
 all such picturesque vagaries of an artist s idle mo 
 ments. Turning them over, with seeming careless 
 ness, a crayon sketch of two figures was disclosed. 
 
 " If I have failed," continued he " if your heart 
 does not see itself reflected in your own portrait r if 
 you have 110 secret cause to trust my delineation of the 
 
THE PROPHETIC PICTURES. 203 
 
 other it is not yet too late to alter them. I might 
 change the action of these figures too. But would it 
 influence the event ? " 
 
 He directed her notice to the sketch. A thrill ran 
 through Elinor s frame ; a shriek was upon her lips ; 
 but she stifled it, with the self-command that becomes 
 habitual to all who hide thoughts of fear and anguish 
 within their bosoms. Turning from the table, she 
 perceived that Walter had advanced near enough to 
 nave seen the sketch, though she cotdd not determine 
 whether it had caught his eye. 
 
 " We will not have the pictures altered," said she, 
 hastily. " If mine is sad, I shall but look the gayer 
 for the contrast." 
 
 " Be it so," answered the painter, bowing. " May 
 your griefs be such fanciful ones that only your pict 
 ure may mourn for them ! For your joys may they 
 be true and deep, and paint themselves upon this lovely 
 face till it quite belie my art ! " 
 
 After the marriage of Walter and Elinor, the pict 
 ures formed the two most splendid ornaments of their 
 abode. They hung side by side, separated by a nar 
 row panel, appearing to eye each other constantly, yet 
 always returning the gaze of the spectator. Trav 
 elled gentlemen, who professed a knowledge of such 
 subjects, reckoned these among the most admirable 
 specimens of modern portraiture ; while common ob 
 servers compared them with the originals, feature by 
 feature, and were rapturous in praise of the likeness. 
 But it was on a third class neither travelled con 
 noisseurs nor common observers, but people of natural 
 sensibility that the pictures wrought their strongest 
 effect. Such persons might gaze carelessly at first, 
 but, becoming interested, would return day after day, 
 
204 TWICE-TOLD TALES. 
 
 and study these painted faces like the pages of a mys 
 tic volume. Walter Ludlow s portrait attracted their 
 earliest notice. In the absence of himself and his 
 bride, they sometimes disputed as to the expression 
 which the painter had intended to throw upon the 
 features ; all agreeing that there was a look of earnest 
 import, though no two explained it alike. There was 
 less diversity of opinion in regard to Elinor s picture. 
 They differed, indeed, in their attempts to estimate 
 the nature and depth of the gloom that dwelt upon 
 her face, but agreed that it was gloom, and alien from 
 the natural temperament of their youthful friend. A 
 certain fanciful person announced, as the result of 
 much scrutiny, that both these pictures were parts of 
 one design, and that the melancholy strength of feel 
 ing, in Elinor s countenance, bore reference to the 
 more vivid emotion, or, as he termed it, the wild pas 
 sion, in that of Walter. Though unskilled in the art, 
 he even began a sketch, in which the action of the two 
 figures was to correspond with their mutual expres 
 sion. 
 
 It was whispered among friends that, day by day, 
 Elinor s face was assuming a deeper shade of pensive- 
 ness, which threatened soon to render her too true a 
 counterpart of her melancholy picture. Walter, on the 
 other hand, instead of acquiring the vivid look which 
 the painter had given him on the canvas, became 
 reserved and downcast, with no outward flashes of 
 emotion, however it might be smouldering within. In 
 course of time, Elinor hung a gorgeous curtain of pur 
 ple silk, wrought with flowers and fringed with heavy 
 golden tassels, before the pictures, under pretence that 
 the dust would tarnish their hues, or the light diYn 
 them. It was enough. Her visitors felt, that the 
 
THE PROPHETIC PICTURES. 205 
 
 massive folds of the silk must never be withdrawn, nor 
 the portraits mentioned in her presence. 
 
 Time wore on ; and the painter came again. He 
 had been far enough to the north to see the silver cas 
 cade of the Crystal Hills, and to look over the vast 
 round of cloud and forest from the summit of New 
 England s loftiest mountain. But he did not profane 
 that scene by the mockery of his art. He had also 
 lain in a canoe on the bosom of Lake George, making 
 his soid the mirror of its loveliness and grandeur, till 
 not a picture in the Vatican was more vivid than his 
 recollection. He had gone with the Indian hunters to 
 Niagara, and there, again, had flung his hopeless pencil 
 down the precipice, feeling that he could as soon paint 
 the roar, as aught else that, goes to make up the won 
 drous cataract. In truth, it was seldom his impulse to 
 copy natural scenery, except as a framework for the 
 delineations of the human form and face, instinct with 
 thought, passion, or suffering. With store of such his 
 adventurous ramble had enriched him : the stern dig 
 nity of Indian chiefs ; the dusky loveliness of In 
 dian girls ; the domestic life of wigwams , the stealthy 
 march ; the battle beneath gloomy pine-trees ; the 
 frontier fortress with its garrison ; the anomaly of the 
 old French partisan, bred in courts, but grown gray in 
 shaggy deserts ; such were the scenes and portraits 
 that he had sketched. The glow of perilous moments ; 
 flashes of wild feeling; struggles of fierce power, 
 love, hate, grief, frenzy ; in a word, all the worn-out 
 heart of the old earth had been revealed to him under 
 a new form. His portfolio was filled with graphic 
 illustrations of the volume of his memory, which genius 
 would transmute into its own substance, and imbue 
 with immortality. He felt that the deep wisdom in 
 his art, which he had sought so far, was found. 
 
206 TWICE-TOLD TALES. 
 
 But amid stern or lovely nature, in the perils of the 
 forest or its overwhelming* peacefulness, still there had 
 been two phantoms, the companions of his way. Like 
 all other men around whom an engrossing purpose 
 wreathes itself, he was insulated from the mass of 
 human kind. He had no aim no pleasure no 
 sympathies but what were ultimately connected with 
 his art. Though gentle in manner and upright in in 
 tent and action, he did not possess kindly feelings ; his 
 heart was cold ; no living creature could be brought 
 near enough to keep him warm. For these two beings, 
 however, he had felt, in its greatest intensity, the sort 
 of interest which always allied him to the subjects of 
 his pencil. He had pried into their souls with his 
 keenest insight, and pictured the result upon their 
 features with his utmost skill, so as barely to fall 
 short of that standard which no genius ever reached, 
 his own severe conception. He had caught from tlie 
 duskiness of the future at least, so he fancied a 
 fearful secret, and had obscurely revealed it on the 
 portraits. So much of himself of his imagination 
 and all other powers had been lavished on the study 
 of Walter and Elinor, that he almost regarded them 
 as creations of his own, like the thousands with which 
 he had peopled the realms of Picture. Therefore did 
 they flit through the twilight of the woods, hover on 
 the mist of waterfalls, look forth from the mirror of 
 the lake, nor melt away in the noontide sun. They 
 haunted his pictorial fancy, not as mockeries of life, 
 nor pale goblins of the dead, but in the guise of por 
 traits, each with the unalterable expression which his 
 magic had evoked from the caverns of the soul. He 
 could not recross the Atlantic till he had again beheld 
 the originals of those airy pictures. 
 
THE PROPHETIC PICTURES. 207 
 
 " O glorious Art ! " thus mused the enthusiastic 
 painter as he trod the street, "thou art the image 
 of the Creator s own. The innumerable forms, that 
 wander in nothing-ness, start into being at thy beck. 
 The dead live again. Thou recallest them to their old 
 scenes, and givest their gray shadows the lustre of a bet 
 ter life, at once earthly and immortal. Thou snatchest 
 back the fleeting moments of History. With thee 
 there is no Past, for, at thy touch, all that is great 
 becomes forever present ; and illustrious men live 
 through long ages, in the visible performance of the 
 very deeds which made them what they are. O potent 
 Art! as thou bringest the faintly revealed Past to 
 stand in that narrow strip of sunlight, which we call 
 Now, canst thou summon the shrouded Future to meet 
 her there? Have I not achieved it? Am I not thy 
 Prophet?" 
 
 Thus, with a proud, yet melancholy fervor, did he 
 almost cry aloud, as he passed through the toilsome 
 street, among people that knew not of his reveries, nor 
 could understand nor care for them. It is not good for 
 man to cherish a solitary ambition. Unless there be 
 those around him by whose example he may regulate 
 himself, his thoughts, desires, and hopes will become 
 extravagant, and he the semblance, perhaps the real 
 ity, of a madman. Reading other bosoms with an 
 acuteness almost preternatural, the painter failed to 
 see the disorder of his own. 
 
 "And this should be the house," said he, looking up 
 and down the front, before he knocked. " Heaven 
 help my brains ! That picture ! Methinks it will 
 never vanish. Whether I look at the windows or the 
 door, there it is framed within them, painted strongly, 
 and glowing in the richest tints the faces of the 
 portraits the figures and action of the sketch ! " 
 
208 TWICE-TOLD TALES, 
 
 He knocked. 
 
 " The Portraits ! Are they within ? " inquired he 
 of the domestic ; then recollecting himself " your 
 master and mistress ! Are they at home ? " 
 
 " They are, sir," said the servant, adding, as he no 
 ticed that picturesque aspect of which the painter 
 could never divest himself, " and the Portraits too ! " 
 
 The guest was admitted into a parlor, communi 
 cating by a central door with an interior room of the 
 same size. As the first apartment was empty, he 
 passed to the entrance of the second, within which 
 his eyes were greeted by those living personages, as 
 well as their pictured representatives, who had long 
 been the objects of so singular an interest. He invol 
 untarily paused on the threshold. 
 
 They had not perceived his approach. Walter and 
 Elinor were standing before the portraits, whence the 
 former had just flung back the rich and voluminous 
 folds of the silken curtain, holding its golden tassel 
 with one hand, while the other grasped that of his 
 bride. The pictures, concealed for months, gleamed 
 forth again in undiminished splendor, appearing to 
 throw a sombre light across the room, rather than to 
 be disclosed by a borrowed radiance. That of Elinor 
 had been almost prophetic. A pensiveness, and next 
 a gentle sorrow, had successively dwelt upon her coun 
 tenance, deepening, with the lapse of time, into a quiet 
 anguish. A mixture of affright would now have made 
 it the very expression of the portrait. Walter s face 
 was moody and dull, or animated only by fitful flashes, 
 which left a heavier darkness for their momentary 
 illumination. He looked from Elinor to her portrait, 
 and thence to his own, in the contemplation of which 
 he finally stood absorbed. 
 
THE PROPHETIC PICTURES. 209 
 
 The painter seemed to hear the step of Destiny 
 approaching behind him, on its progress towards its 
 victims. A strange thought darted into his mind. 
 Was not his own the form in which that destiny had 
 embodied itself, and he a chief agent of the coming 
 evil which he had foreshadowed? 
 
 Still, Walter remained silent before the picture^ 
 communing with it as with his own heart, and aban 
 doning himself to the spell of evil influence that the 
 painter had cast upon the features. Gradually his 
 eyes kindled ; while as Elinor watched the increasing 
 wildness of his face, her own assumed a look of ter 
 ror ; and when at last he turned upon her, the resem 
 blance of both to their portraits was complete. 
 
 " Our fate is upon us ! " howled Walter. " Die ! " 
 
 Drawing a knife, he sustained her, as she was sink 
 ing to the ground, and aimed it at her bosom. In the 
 action, and in the look and attitude of each, the painter 
 beheld the figures of his sketch. The picture, with all 
 its tremendous coloring, was finished. 
 
 " Hold, madman ! " cried he, sternly. 
 
 He had advanced from the door, and interposed 
 himself between the wretched beings, with the same 
 sense of power to regulate their destiny as to alter a 
 scene upon the canvas. He stood like a magician, 
 controlling the phantoms which he had evoked. 
 
 " What ! " muttered Walter Ludlow, as he relapsed 
 from fierce excitement into silent gloom. " Does Fate 
 impede its own decree ? " 
 
 " Wretched lady ! " said the painter, " did I not 
 warn you ? " 
 
 " You did," replied Elinor, calmly, as her terror 
 gave place to the quiet grief which it had disturbed. 
 "But I loved him!" 
 
 VOL. I. 14 
 
210 TWICE-TOLD TALES. 
 
 Is there not a deep moral in the tale ? Could the 
 result of one, or all our deeds, be shadowed forth and 
 set before us, some would call it Fate, and hurry on 
 ward, others be swept along by their passionate de 
 sires, and none be turned aside by the PROPHETIC 
 PICTURES. 
 
DAVID SWAN. 
 
 A FANTASY. 
 
 can be but partially acquainted even with the 
 events which actually influence our course through 
 life, and our final destiny. There are innumerable 
 other events if such they may be called which 
 come close upon us, yet pass away without actual 
 results, or even betraying their near approach, by the 
 reflection of any light or shadow across our minds. 
 Could we know all the vicissitudes of our fortunes, 
 life would be too full of hope and fear, exultation or 
 disappointment, to afford us a single hour of true 
 serenity. This idea may be illustrated by a page 
 from the secret history of David Swan. 
 
 AVe have nothing to do with David until we find 
 him, at the age of twenty, on the high road from his 
 native place to the city of Boston, where his uncle, a 
 small dealer in the grocery line, was to take him be 
 hind the counter. Be it enough to say that he was a 
 native of Xew Hampshire, born of respectable parents, 
 and had received an ordinary school education, with a 
 classic finish by a year at Gilmanton Academy. After 
 journeying on foot from sunrise till nearly noon of a 
 summer s day, his weariness and the increasing heat 
 determined him to sit down in the first convenient 
 shade, and await the coming up of the stage-coach. 
 As if planted on purpose for him, there soon appeared 
 a little tuft of maples, with a delightful recess in the 
 
212 TWICE-TOLD TALES. 
 
 midst, and such a fresh bubbling spring that it seemed 
 never to have sparkled for any wayfarer but David 
 Swan. Virgin or not, he kissed it with his thirsty 
 lips, and then flung himself along the brink, pillowing 
 his head upon some shirts and a pair of pantaloons, 
 tied up in a striped cotton handkerchief. The sun 
 beams could not reach him ; the dust did not yet rise 
 from the road after the heavy rain of yesterday ; and 
 his grassy lair suited the young man better than a bed 
 of down. The spring murmured drowsily beside him ; 
 the branches waved dreamily across the blue sky over 
 head ; and a deep sleep, perchance hiding dreams 
 within its depths, fell upon David Swan. But we are 
 to relate events which he did not dream of. 
 
 While he lay sound asleep in the shade, other peo 
 ple were wide awake, and passed to and fro, afoot, on 
 horseback, and in all sorts of vehicles, along the sunny 
 road by his bedchamber. Some looked neither to the 
 right hand nor the left, and knew not that he was 
 there ; some merely glanced that way, without admit 
 ting the slumberer among their busy thoughts ; some 
 laughed to see how soundly he slept ; and several, 
 whose hearts were brimming full of scorn, ejected 
 their venomous superfluity on David Swan. A middle- 
 aged widow, when nobody else was near, thrust her 
 head a little way into the recess, and vowed that the 
 young fellow looked charming in his sleep. A tem 
 perance lecturer saw him, and wrought poor David 
 into the texture of his evening s discourse, as an awful 
 instance of dead drunkenness by the roadside. But 
 censure, praise, merriment, scorn, and indifference were 
 all one, or rather all nothing, to David Swan. 
 
 He had slept only a few moments when a br.pwn 
 carriage, drawn by a handsome pair of horses, bowled 
 
DAVID SWAN. 213 
 
 easily along, and was brought to a stand-still nearly 
 in front of David s resting-place. A linchpin had 
 fallen out, and permitted one of the wheels to slide off. 
 The damage was slight, and occasioned merely a mo 
 mentary alarm to an elderly merchant and his wife, 
 who were returning to Boston in the carriage. While 
 the coachman and a servant were replacing the wheel, 
 the lady and gentleman sheltered themselves beneath 
 the maple-trees, and there espied the bubbling fount 
 ain, and David Swan asleep beside it. Impressed 
 with the awe which the humblest sleeper usually sheds 
 around him, the merchant trod as lightly as the gout 
 would allow ; and his spouse took good heed not to 
 rustle her silk gown, lest David should start up all of 
 a sudden. 
 
 " How soundly he sleeps ! " whispered the old gen 
 tleman. " From what a depth he draws that easy 
 breath ! Such sleep as that, brought on without an 
 opiate, would be worth more to me than half my in 
 come ; for it would suppose health and an untroubled 
 mind. 
 
 u And youth, besides," said the lady. " Healthy 
 and quiet age does not sleep thus. Our slumber is no 
 more like his than our wakefulness." 
 
 The longer they looked the more did this elderly 
 couple feel interested in the unknown youth, to whom 
 the wayside and the maple shade were as a secret 
 chamber, with the rich gloom of damask curtains 
 brooding over him. Perceiving that a stray sunbeam 
 glimmered down upon his face, the lady contrived to 
 twist a branch aside, so as to intercept it. And hav 
 ing done this little act of kindness, she began to feel 
 like a mother to him. 
 
 "Providence seems to have laid him here," whis- 
 
214 TWICE-TOLD TALES. 
 
 pered she to her husband, "and to have brought us 
 hither to find him, after our disappointment in our 
 cousin s son. Methinks I can see a likeness to our 
 departed Henry. Shall we waken him ? " 
 
 " To what purpose ? " said the merchant, hesitating. 
 " We know nothing of the youth s character." 
 
 "That open countenance! " replied his wife, in the 
 same hushed voice, yet earnestly. "This innocent 
 sleep!" 
 
 While these whispers were passing, the sleeper s 
 heart did not throb, nor his breath become agitated, 
 nor his features betray the least token of interest. 
 Yet Fortune was bending over him, just ready to let 
 fall a burden of gold. The old merchant had lost his 
 only son, and had no heir to his wealth except a dis 
 tant relative, with whose conduct he was dissatisfied. 
 In such cases, people sometimes do stranger things 
 than to act the magician, and awaken a young man to 
 splendor who fell asleep in poverty. 
 
 " Shall we not waken him ? " repeated the lady, 
 persuasively. 
 
 " The coach is ready, sir," said the servant, behind. 
 
 The old couple started, reddened, and hurried 
 away, mutually wondering that, they should ever have 
 dreamed of doing anything so very ridiculous. The 
 merchant threw himself back in the carriage, and oc 
 cupied his mind with the plan of a magnificent asylum 
 for unfortunate men of business. Meanwhile, David 
 Swan enjoyed his nap. 
 
 The carriage could not have gone above a mile or 
 two, when a pretty young girl came along, with a 
 tripping pace, which showed precisely how her little 
 heart was dancing in her bosom. Perhaps it was this 
 merry kind of motion that caused is there any harm 
 
DAVID SWAN. 215 
 
 in saying it ? her garter to slip its knot. Conscious 
 that the silken girth if silk it were was relaxing 
 its hold, she turned aside into the shelter of the maple- 
 trees, and there found a young man asleep by the 
 spring ! Blushing as red as any rose that she should 
 have intruded into a gentleman s bedchamber, and for 
 such a purpose, too, she was about to make her escape 
 on tiptoe. But there was peril near the sleeper. A 
 monster of a bee had been wandering overhead - 
 buzz, buzz, buzz now among the leaves, now flashing 
 through the strips of sunshine, and now lost in the 
 dark shade, till finally he appeared to be settling on 
 the eyelid of David Swan. The sting of a bee is some 
 times deadly. As free hearted as she was innocent, 
 the girl attacked the intruder with her handkerchief, 
 brushed him soundly, and drove him from beneath the 
 maple shade. How sweet a picture ! This good deed 
 accomplished, with quickened breath, and a deeper 
 blush, she stole a glance at the youthful stranger for 
 whom she had been battling with a dragon in the 
 air. 
 
 " He is handsome ! " thought she, and blushed redder 
 yet. 
 
 How could it be that no dream of bliss grew so 
 strong within him, that, shattered by its very strength, 
 it should part asunder, and allow him to perceive the 
 girl among its phantoms ? Why, at least, did no smile 
 of welcome brighten upon his face ? She was come, 
 the maid whose soul, according to the old and beauti 
 ful idea, had been severed from his own, and whom, 
 in all his vague but passionate desires, he yearned to 
 meet. Her, only, could he love with a perfect love ; 
 him, only, could she receive into the depths of her 
 heart ; and now her image was faintly blushing in the 
 
216 TWICE-TOLD TALES. 
 
 fountain, by his side ; should it pass away, its happy 
 lustre would never gleam upon his life again. 
 
 " How sound he sleeps ! " murmured the girl. 
 
 She departed, but did not trip along the road so 
 lightly as when she came. 
 
 Now, this girl s father was a thriving country mer 
 chant in the neighborhood, and happened, at that 
 identical time, to be looking out for just such a young 
 man as David Swan. Had David formed a wayside 
 acquaintance with the daughter, he would have become 
 the father s clerk, and all else in natural succession. 
 So here, again, had good fortune the best of for 
 tunes stolen so near that her garments brushed 
 against him ; and he knew nothing of the matter. 
 
 The girl was hardly out of sight when two men 
 turned aside beneath the maple shade. Both had dark 
 faces, set off by cloth caps, which were drawn down 
 aslant over their brows. Their dresses were shabby, 
 yet had a certain smartness. These were a couple of 
 rascals who got their living by whatever the devil 
 sent them, and - now, in the interim of other business, 
 had staked the joint profits of their next piece of 
 villany on a game of cards, which was to have been 
 decided here under the trees. But, finding David 
 asleep by the spring, one of the rogues whispered to 
 his fellow, 
 
 " Hist ! Do you see that bundle under his head ? " 
 
 The other villain nodded, winked, and leered. 
 
 " I 11 bet you a horn of brandy," said the first, " that 
 the chap has either a pocket-book, or a snug little 
 hoard of small change, stowed away amongst his 
 shirts. And if not there, we shall find it in hia 
 pantaloons pocket." 
 
 " But how if he wakes ? " said the other. 
 
DAVID SWAN. 217 
 
 His companion thrust aside his waistcoat, pointed 
 to the handle of a dirk, and nodded. 
 
 " So be it !" muttered the second villain. 
 
 They approached the unconscious David, and, while 
 one pointed the dagger towards his heart, the other 
 began to search the bundle beneath his head. Their 
 two faces, grim, wrinkled, and ghastly with guilt and 
 fear, bent over their victim, looking horrible enough 
 to be mistaken for fiends, should he suddenly awake. 
 Nay, had the villains glanced aside into the spring, 
 even they would hardly have known themselves as 
 reflected there. But David Swan had never worn a 
 more tranquil aspect, even when asleep on his mother s 
 breast. 
 
 " I must take away the bundle," whispered one. 
 
 44 If he stirs, I 11 strike," muttered the other. 
 
 But, at this moment, a dog, scenting along the 
 ground, came in beneath the maple-trees, and gazed 
 alternately at each of these wicked men, and then 
 at the quiet sleeper. He then lapped out of the 
 fountain. 
 
 " Pshaw ! " said one villain. " "We can do nothing 
 now. The dosf s master must be close behind." 
 
 O 
 
 " Let s take a drink and be off," said the other. 
 
 The man with the dagger thrust back the weapon 
 into his bosom, and drew forth a pocket pistol, but not 
 of that kind which kills by a single discharge. It was 
 a flask of liquor, with a block-tin tumbler screwed 
 upon the mouth. Each drank a comfortable dram, 
 and left the spot, with so many jests, and such 
 laughter at their unaccomplished wickedness, that 
 they might be said to have gone on their way re 
 joicing. In a few hours they had forgotten the whole 
 affair, nor once imagined that the recording angel had 
 
218 TWICE-TOLD TALES. 
 
 written down the crime of murder against their souls, 
 in letters as durable as eternity. As for David Swan, 
 he still slept quietly, neither conscious of the shadow 
 of death when it hung over him, nor of the glow of 
 renewed life when that shadow was withdrawn. 
 
 He slept, but no longer so quietly as at first. An 
 hour s repose had snatched, from his elastic frame, 
 the weariness with which many hours of toil had bur 
 dened it. Now he stirred now, moved his lips, 
 without a sound now, talked, in an inward tone, to 
 the noonday spectres of his dream. But a noise of 
 wheels came rattling louder and louder along the road, 
 until it dashed through the dispersing mist of David s 
 slumber and there was the stage-coach. He started 
 up with all his ideas about him. 
 
 " Halloo, driver ! Take a passenger ? " shouted 
 he. 
 
 " Room on top ! " answered the driver. 
 
 Up mounted David, and bowled away merrily 
 towards Boston, without so much as a parting glance 
 at that fountain of dreamlike vicissitude. He knew 
 not that a phantom of Wealth had thrown a golden 
 hue upon its waters nor that one of Love had 
 sighed softly to their murmur nor that one of Death 
 had threatened to crimson them with his blood all, 
 in the brief hour since he lay down to sleep. Sleep 
 ing or waking, we hear not the airy footsteps of 
 the strange things that almost happen. Does it not 
 argue a superintending Providence that, while view 
 less and unexpected events thrust themselves contin 
 ually athwart our path, there should still be regularity 
 enough in mortal life to render foresight even par- 
 tially available ? 
 
SIGHTS FROM A STEEPLE. 
 
 So ! I have climbed high, and my reward is smalL 
 Here I stand, with wearied knees, earth, indeed, at a 
 dizzy depth below, but heaven far, far beyond me 
 still. Oh that I could soar up into the very zenith, 
 where man never breathed, nor eagle ever flew, and 
 where the ethereal azure melts away from the eye, 
 and appears only a deepened shade of nothingness ! 
 And yet I shiver at that cold and solitary thought. 
 What clouds are gathering in the golden west, with 
 direfid intent against the brightness and the warmth 
 of this summer afternoon I They are ponderous air 
 ships, black as death, and freighted with the tempest ; 
 and at intervals their thunder, the signal guns of that 
 unearthly squadron, rolls distant along the deep of 
 heaven. These nearer heaps of fleecy vapor me- 
 thinks I could roll and toss upon them the whole day 
 long ! seem scattered here and there for the repose 
 of tired pilgrims through the sky. Perhaps for 
 who can tell ? beautiful spirits are disporting them 
 selves there, and will bless my mortal eye with the 
 brief appearance of their curly locks of golden light, 
 and laughing faces, fair and faint as the people of a 
 rosy dream. Or, where the floating mass so imper 
 fectly obstructs the color of the firmament, a slender 
 foot and fairy limb, resting too heavily upon the frail 
 support, may be thrust through, and suddenly with 
 drawn, while longing fancy follows them in vain. 
 Yonder again is an airy archipelago, where the sun- 
 
220 TWICE-TOLD TALES, 
 
 beams love to linger in their journeyings through 
 space. Every one of those little clouds has been 
 dipped and steeped in radiance, which the slightest 
 pressure might disengage in silvery profusion, like 
 water wrung from a sea-maid s hair. Bright they are 
 as a young man s visions, and, like them, would be 
 realized in dullness, obscurity, and tears. I will look 
 on them no more. 
 
 In three parts of the visible circle, whose centre is 
 this spire, I discern cultivated fields, villages, white 
 country seats, the waving lines of rivulets, little placid 
 lakes, and here and there a rising ground, that would 
 fain be termed a hill. On the fourth side is the sea, 
 stretching away towards a viewless boundary, blue 
 and calm, except where the passing anger of a shadow 
 flits across its surface, and is gone. Hitherward, a 
 broad inlet penetrates far into the land ; on the verge 
 of the harbor, formed by its extremity, is a town ; and 
 over it am I, a watchman, all-heeding and unheeded. 
 Oh that the multitude of chimneys could speak, like 
 those of Madrid, and betray, in smoky whispers, the 
 secrets of all who, since their first foundation, have 
 assembled at the hearths within ! Oh that the Limp 
 ing Devil of Le Sage would perch beside me here, 
 extend his wand over this contiguity of roofs, uncover 
 every chamber, and make me familiar with their in 
 habitants ! The most desirable mode of existence 
 might be that of a spiritualized Paul Pry, hovering 
 invisible round man and woman, witnessing their deeds, 
 searching into their hearts, borrowing brightness from 
 their felicity and shade from their sorrow, and retain 
 ing no emotion peculiar to himself. But none of these 
 things are possible ; and if I would know the interior 
 of brick walls, or the mystery of human bosoms, I can 
 but guess. 
 
SIGHTS FROM A STEEPLE. 221 
 
 Yonder is a fair street, extending north and south* 
 The stately mansions are placed each on its carpet of 
 verdant grass, and a long flight of steps descends from 
 every door to the pavement. Ornamental trees the 
 broad-leafed horse-chestnut, the elm so lofty and bend 
 ing, the graceful but infrequent willow, and others 
 whereof I know not the names grow thrivingly 
 among brick and stone. The oblique rays of the sun 
 are intercepted by these green citizens, and by the 
 houses, so that one side of the street is a shaded and 
 pleasant walk. On its whole extent there is now but a 
 single passenger, advancing from the upper end ; and 
 he, unless distance and the medium of a pocket spy 
 glass do him more than justice, is a fine young man 
 of twenty. He saunters slowly forward, slapping his 
 left hand with his folded gloves, bending his eyes 
 upon the pavement, and sometimes raising them to 
 throw a glance before him. Certainly, he has a pen 
 sive air. Is he in doubt, or in debt ? Is he, if the 
 question be allowable, in love ? Does he strive to be 
 melancholy and gentleman-like ? Or, is he merely 
 overcome by the heat ? But I bid him farewell for 
 the present. The door of one of the houses an aris 
 tocratic edifice, with curtains of purple and gold wav 
 ing from the windows, is now opened, and down the 
 steps come two ladies, swinging their parasols, and 
 lightly arrayed for a summer ramble. Both are young, 
 both are pretty, but methinks the left-hand lass is the 
 fairer of the twain ; and, though she be so serious at 
 this moment, I could swear that there is a treasure of 
 gentle fun within her. They stand talking a little 
 while upon the steps, and finally proceed up the street. 
 Meantime, as their faces are now turned from me, I 
 may look elsewhere. 
 
222 TWICE-TOLD TALES. 
 
 Upon that wharf, and down the corresponding 
 street, is a busy contrast to the quiet scene which I 
 have just noticed. Business evidently has its centre 
 there, and many a man is wasting the summer after 
 noon in labor and anxiety, in losing riches or in gain 
 ing them, when he would be wiser to flee away to some 
 pleasant country village, or shaded lake in the forest, 
 or wild and cool sea-beach. I see vessels unlading at 
 the wharf, and precious merchandise strewn upon the 
 ground, abundantly as at the bottom of the sea, that 
 market whence no goods return, and where there is 
 no captain nor supercargo to render an account of 
 sales. Here, the clerks are diligent with their paper 
 and pencils, and sailors ply the block and tackle that 
 hang over the Kold, accompanying their toil with cries, 
 long drawn and roughly melodious, till the bales and 
 puncheons ascend to upper air. At a little distance a 
 group of gentlemen are assembled round the door of 
 a warehouse. Grave seniors be they, and I would 
 wager if it were safe in these times to be responsi 
 ble for any one that the least eminent among them 
 might vie with old Vicentio, that incomparable traf 
 ficker of Pisa. I can even select the wealthiest of the 
 company. It is the elderly personage, in somewhat 
 rusty black, with powdered hair, the superfluous white 
 ness of which is visible upon the cape of his coat. 
 His twenty ships are wafted on some of their many 
 courses by every breeze that blows, and his name I 
 will venture to say, though I know it not is a famil 
 iar sound among the far separated merchants of 
 Europe and the Indies. 
 
 But I bestow too much of my attention in this quar 
 ter. On looking again to the long and shady walk, I 
 perceive that the two fair girls have encountered the 
 
SIGHTS FROM A STEEPLE. 223 
 
 young man. After a sort of shyness in the recognition, 
 he turns back with them. Moreover, he has sanctioned 
 my taste in regard to his companions by placing him 
 self on the inner side of the pavement, nearest the 
 Venus to whom I enacting, on a steeple top, the 
 part of Paris on the top of Ida adjudged the golden 
 apple. 
 
 In two streets, converging at right angles towards 
 my watchtower, I distinguish three different proces 
 sions. One is a proud array of voluntary soldiers, in 
 bright uniform, resembling, from the height whence I 
 look down, the painted veterans that garrison the win 
 dows of a toyshop. And yet, it stirs my heart ; their 
 regidar advance, their nodding plumes, the sunflash on 
 their bayonets and musket barrels, the roll of their 
 drums ascending past me, and the fife ever and anon 
 piercing through these things have wakened a war 
 like fire, peaceful though I be. Close to their rear 
 marches a battalion of school-boys, ranged in crooked 
 and irregular platoons, shouldering sticks, thumping a 
 harsh and unripe clatter from an instrument of tin, 
 and ridiculously aping the intricate manoeuvres of the 
 foremost band. Nevertheless, as slight differences are 
 scarcely perceptible from a church spire, one might be 
 tempted to ask, " Which are the boys ? " or rather, 
 " Which the men ? " But, leaving these, let us turn 
 to the third procession, which, though sadder in out 
 ward show, may excite identical reflections in the 
 thoughtful mind. It is a funeral. A hearse, drawn 
 by a black and bony steed, and covered by a dusty 
 pall ; two or three coaches rumbling over the stones, 
 their drivers half asleep ; a dozen couple of careless 
 mourners in their every-day attire ; such was not the 
 fashion of our fathers, when they carried a friend to 
 
224 TWICE-TOLD TALES. 
 
 his grave. There is now no doleful clang of the bell 
 to proclaim sorrow to the town. Was the King of 
 Terrors more awful in those clays than in our own, 
 that wisdom and philosophy have been able to produce 
 this change? Not so. Here is a proof that he retains 
 his proper majesty. The military men and the mili 
 tary boys are wheeling round the corner, and meet 
 the funeral full in the face. Immediately the drum is 
 silent, all but the tap that regulates each simultaneous 
 footfall. The soldiers yield the path to the dusty 
 hearse and unpretending train, and the children quit 
 their ranks, and cluster on the sidewalks, with timo 
 rous and instinctive curiosity. The mourners enter the 
 churchyard at the base of the steeple, and pause by an 
 open grave among the burial stones ; the lightning 
 glimmers on them as they lower down the coffin, and 
 the thunder rattles heavily while they throw the earth 
 upon its lid. Verily, the shower is near, and I trem 
 ble for the young man and the girls, who have now 
 disappeared from the long and shady street. 
 
 How various are the situations of the people covered 
 by the roofs beneath me, and how diversified are the 
 events at this moment befalling them ! The new born, 
 the aged, the dying, the strong in life, and the recent 
 dead, are in the chambers of these many mansions. 
 The full of hope, the happy, the miserable, and the 
 desperate, dwell together within the circle of my 
 glance. In some of the houses over which my eyes 
 roam so coldly, guilt is entering into hearts that are 
 still tenanted by a debased and trodden virtue, 
 guilt is on the very edge of commission, and the im 
 pending deed might be averted , guilt is done, and the 
 criminal wonders if it be irrevocable. There are broad 
 thoughts struggling in my mind, and, were I able to 
 
SIGHTS FROM A STEEPLE. 225 
 
 give them distinctness, they would make their way in 
 eloquence. Lo ! the raindrops are descending. 
 
 The clouds, within a little time, have gathered over 
 all the sky, hanging heavily, as if about to drop in 
 one unbroken mass upon the earth. At intervals, the 
 lightning flashes from their brooding hearts, quivers, 
 disappears, and then comes the thunder, travelling 
 slowly after its twin-born flame. A strong wind has 
 sprung up, howls through the darkened streets, and 
 raises the dust in dense bodies, to rebel against the ap 
 proaching storm. The disbanded soldiers fly, the fu 
 neral has already vanished like its dead, and all people 
 hurry homeward all that have a home ; while a few 
 lounge by the corners, or trudge on desperately, at 
 their leisure. In a narrow lane, which communicates 
 with the shady street, I discern the rich old mer 
 chant, putting himself to the top of his speed, lest the 
 rain should convert his hair powder to a paste. Un 
 happy gentleman ! By the slow vehemence and pain 
 ful moderation wherewith he journeys, it is but too 
 evident that Podagra has left its thrilling tenderness 
 in his great toe. But yonder, at a far more rapid pace, 
 come three other of my acquaintance, the two pretty 
 girls and the young man, unseasonably interrupted in 
 their walk. Their footsteps are supported by the risen 
 dust, the wind lends them its velocity, they fly 
 like three sea-birds driven landward by the tempestu 
 ous breeze. The ladies would not thus rival Atalanta 
 if they but knew that any one were at leisure to ob 
 serve them. Ah ! as they hasten onward, laughing in 
 the angry face of nature, a sudden catastrophe has 
 chanced. At the comer where the narrow lane enters 
 into the street, they come plump against the old mer 
 chant, whose tortoise motion has just brought him to 
 
 VOL. I. 15 
 
226 TWICE-TOLD TALES. 
 
 that point. He likes not the sweet encounter ; the 
 darkness of the whole air gathers speedily upon his 
 visage, and there is a pause on both sides. Finally, 
 he thrusts aside the youth with little courtesy, seizes 
 an arm of each of the two girls, and plods onward, 
 like a magician with a prize of captive fairies. All 
 this is easy to be understood. How disconsolate the 
 poor lover stands ! regardless of the rain that threatens 
 an exceeding damage to his well-fashioned habiliments, 
 till he catches a backward glance of mirth from a 
 bright eye, and turns away with whatever comfort it 
 conveys. 
 
 The old man and his daughters are safely housed, 
 and now the storm lets loose its fury. In every dwell 
 ing I perceive the faces of the chambermaids as they 
 shut down the windows, excluding the impetuous 
 shower, and shrinking away from the quick fiery 
 glare. The large drops descend with force upon the 
 slated roofs, and rise again in smoke. There is a 
 rush and roar, as of a river through the air, and 
 muddy streams bubble majestically along the pave 
 ment, whirl their dusky foam into the kennel, and 
 disappear beneath iron grates. Thus did Arethusa 
 sink. I love not my station here aloft, in the midst 
 of the tumult which I am powerless to direct or quell, 
 with the blue lightning wrinkling on my brow, and the 
 thunder muttering its first awful syllables in my ear. 
 I will descend. Yet let me give another glance to the 
 sea, where the foam breaks out in long white lines 
 upon a broad expanse of blackness, or boils up in far 
 distant points, like snowy mountain tops in the eddies 
 of a flood ; and let me look once more at the green 
 plain, and little hills of the country, over which the 
 giant of the storm is striding in robes of mist, and at 
 
SIGHTS FROM A STEEPLE. 227 
 
 the town, whose obscured and desolate streets might 
 beseem a city of the dead ; and turning a single mo 
 ment to the sky, now gloomy as an author s prospects, 
 I prepare to resume my station on lower earth. But 
 stay ! A little speck of azure has widened in the 
 western heavens ; the sunbeams find a passage, and 
 go rejoicing through the tempest ; and on yonder 
 darkest cloud, born, like hallowed hopes, of the glory 
 of another world and the trouble and tears of this, 
 brightens forth the Rainbow ! 
 
THE HOLLOW OF THE THREE HILLS. 
 
 IN those strange old times, when fantastic dreams 
 and madmen s reveries were realized among the 
 actual circumstances of life, two persons met together 
 at an appointed hour and place. One was a lady, 
 graceful in form and fair of feature, though pale and 
 troubled, and smitten with an untimely blight in what 
 should have been the fullest bloom of her years ; the 
 other was an ancient and meanly-dressed woman, of 
 ill-favored aspect, and so withered, shrunken, and de 
 crepit, that even the space since she began to decay 
 must have exceeded the ordinary term of human 
 existence. In the spot where they encountered, no 
 mortal could observe them. Three little hills stood 
 near each other, and down in the midst of them sunk 
 a hollow basin, almost mathematically circular, two or 
 three hundred feet in breadth, and of such depth that 
 a stately cedar might but just be visible above the 
 sides. Dwarf pines were numerous upon the hills, 
 and partly fringed the outer verge of the intermediate 
 hollow, within which there was nothing but the brown 
 grass of October, and here and there a tree trunk that 
 had fallen long ago, and lay mouldering with no 
 green successor from its roots. One of these masses 
 of decaying wood, formerly a majestic oak, rested 
 close beside a pool of green and sluggish water at the 
 bottom of the basin. Such scenes as this (so gray 
 tradition tells) were once the resort of the Power of 
 Evil and his plighted subjects ; and here, at midnight 
 
THE HOLLOW OF THE THREE HILLS. 229 
 
 or on the dim verge of evening", they were said to 
 stand round the mantling pool, disturbing its putrid 
 waters in the performance of an impious baptismal 
 rite. The chill beauty of an autumnal sunset was 
 now gilding the three hill-tops, whence a paler tint 
 stole down their sides into the hollow. 
 
 44 Here is our pleasant meeting come to pass," said 
 the aged crone, " according as thou hast desired. Say 
 quickly what thou wouldst have of me, for there is but 
 a short hour that we may tarry here." 
 
 As the old withered woman spoke, a smile glim 
 mered on her countenance, like lamplight on the wall 
 of a sepulchre. The lady trembled, and cast her eyes 
 upward to the verge of the basin, as if meditating to 
 return with her purpose unaccomplished. But it was 
 not so ordained. 
 
 " I am a stranger in this land, as you know," said 
 she at length. u Whence I come it matters not ; but 
 I have left those behind me with whom my fate was 
 intimately bound, and from whom I am cut off for 
 ever. There is a weight in my bosom that I cannot 
 away with, and I have come hither to inquire of their 
 welfare." 
 
 " And who is there by this green pool that can 
 bring thee news from the ends of the earth ? " cried 
 the old woman, peering into the lady s face. " Not 
 from my lips mayst thou hear these tidings ; yet, be 
 thou bold, and the daylight shall not pass away from 
 yonder hill-top before thy wish be granted." 
 
 " I will do your bidding though I die," replied the 
 lady desperately. 
 
 The old woman seated herself on the trunk of the 
 fallen tree, threw aside the hood that shrouded her 
 gray locks, and beckoned her companion to draw near. 
 
230 TWICE-TOLD TALES. 
 
 "Kneel down," she said, "and lay your forehead 
 on my knees. * 
 
 She hesitated a moment, but the anxiety that had 
 long been kindling burned fiercely up within her. 
 As she knelt down, the border of her garment was 
 dipped into the pool ; she laid her forehead on the old 
 woman s knees, and the latter drew a cloak about the 
 lady s face, so that she was in darkness. Then she 
 heard the muttered words of prayer, in the midst of 
 which she started, and would have arisen. 
 
 " Let me flee, let me flee and hide myself, that 
 they may not look upon me ! " she cried. But, with 
 returning recollection, she hushed herself, and was 
 still as death. 
 
 For it seemed as if other voices familiar in in 
 fancy, and unforgotten through many wanderings, and 
 in all the vicissitudes of her heart and fortune 
 were mingling with the accents of the prayer. At 
 first the words were faint and indistinct, not rendered 
 so by distance, but rather resembling the dim pages 
 of a book which we strive to read by an imperfect and 
 gradually brightening light. In such a manner, as 
 the prayer proceeded, did those voices strengthen upon 
 the ear ; till at length the petition ended, and the con 
 versation of an aged man, and of a woman broken 
 and decayed like himself, became distinctly audible to 
 the lady as she knelt. But those strangers appeared 
 not to stand in the hollow depth between the three 
 hills. Their voices were encompassed and reechoed 
 by the walls of a chamber, the windows of which wore 
 rattling in the breeze ; the regular vibration of a clock, 
 the crackling of a fire, and the tinkling of the embers 
 as they fell among the ashes, rendered the scene* al 
 most as vivid as if painted to the eye. By a melan- 
 
THE HOLLOW OF THE THREE HILLS. 231 
 
 choly hearth sat these two old people, the man calmly 
 despondent, the woman querulous and tearful, and 
 their words were all of sorrow. They spoke of a 
 daughter, a wanderer they knew not where, bearing 
 dishonor along with her, and leaving shame and afflic 
 tion to bring their gray heads to the grave. They 
 alluded also to other and more recent woe, but in the 
 midst of their talk their voices seemed to melt into the 
 sound of the wind sweeping mournfully among the au 
 tumn leaves ; and when the lady lifted her eyes, there 
 was she kneeling in the hollow between three hills. 
 
 " A weary and lonesome time yonder old couple 
 have of it," remarked the old woman, smiling in the 
 lady s face. 
 
 " And did you also hear them ? " exclaimed she, a 
 sense of intolerable humiliation triumphing over her 
 agony and fear. 
 
 " Yea ; and we have yet more to hear," replied the 
 old woman. " Wherefore, cover thy face quickly." 
 
 Again the withered hag poured forth the monoto 
 nous words of a prayer that was not meant to be ac 
 ceptable in heaven ; and soon, in the pauses of her 
 breath, strange murmurings began to thicken, grad 
 ually increasing so as to drown and overpower the 
 charm by which they grew. Shrieks pierced through 
 the obscurity of sound, and were succeeded by the 
 singing of sweet female voices, which, in their turn, 
 gave way to a wild roar of laughter, broken suddenly 
 by groanings and sobs, forming altogether a ghastly 
 confusion of terror and mourning and mirth. Chains 
 were rattling, fierce and stern voices uttered threats, 
 and the scourge resounded at their command. All 
 these noises deepened and became substantial to the 
 listener s ear, till she could distinguish every soft and 
 
232 TWICE-TOLD TALES. 
 
 dreamy accent of the love songs that died causelessly 
 into funeral hymns. She shuddered at the unpro 
 voked wrath which blazed up like the spontaneous 
 kindling of flame, and she grew faint at the fearful 
 merriment raging miserably around her. In the 
 midst of this wild scene, where unbound passions 
 jostled each other in a drunken career, there was one 
 solemn voice of a man, and a manly and melodious 
 voice it might once have been. He went to and fro 
 continually, and his feet sounded upon the floor. In 
 each member of that frenzied company, whose own 
 burning thoughts had become their exclusive world, 
 he sought an auditor for the story of his individual 
 wrong, and interpreted their laughter and tears as his 
 reward of scorn or pity. He spoke of woman s per 
 fidy, of a wife who had broken her holiest vows, of a 
 home and heart made desolate. Even as he went on, 
 the shout, the laugh, the shriek, the sob, rose up in 
 unison, till they changed into the hollow, fitful, and 
 uneven sound of the wind, as it fought among the pine- 
 trees on those three lonely hills. The lady looked up, 
 and there was the withered woman smiling in her face. 
 
 " Couldst thou have thought there were such merry 
 times in a mad-house ? " inquired the latter. 
 
 " True, true," said the lady to herself ; " there is 
 mirth within its walls, but misery, misery without." 
 
 " Wouldst thou hear more ? " demanded the old 
 woman. 
 
 " There is one other voice I would fain listen to 
 again," replied the lady, faintly. 
 
 " Then, lay down thy head speedily upon my knees, 
 that thou mayst get thee hence before the hour be 
 past." 
 
 The golden skirts of day were yet lingering upon 
 
THE HOLLOW OF THE THREE HILLS. 233 
 
 the hills, but deep shades obscured the hollow and the 
 pool, as if sombre night were rising thence to over 
 spread the world. Again that evil woman began to 
 weave her spell. Long did it proceed unanswered, till 
 the knolling of a bell stole in among the intervals of 
 her words, like a clang that had travelled far over 
 valley and rising ground, and was just ready to die in 
 the air. The lady shook upon her companion s knees 
 as she heard that boding sound. Stronger it grew 
 and sadder, and deepened into the tone of a death 
 bell, knolling dolefully from some ivy-mantled tower, 
 and bearing tidings of mortality and woe to the cot 
 tage, to the hall, and to the solitary wayfarer, that all 
 might weep for the doom appointed in turn to them. 
 Then came a measured tread, passing slowly, slowly 
 on, as of mourners with a coffin, their garments trail 
 ing on the ground, so that the ear could measure the 
 length of their melancholy array. Before them went 
 the priest, reading the burial service, while the leaves 
 of his book were rustling in the breeze. And though 
 no voice but his was heard to speak aloud, still there 
 were revilings and anathemas, whispered but distinct, 
 from women and from men, breathed against the 
 daughter who had wrung the aged hearts of her par 
 ents, the wife who had betrayed the trusting fond 
 ness of her husband, the mother who had sinned 
 against natural affection, and left her child to die. 
 The sweeping sound of the funeral train faded away 
 Uke a thin vapor, and the wind, that just before had 
 seemed to shake the coffin pall, moaned sadly round 
 the verge of the Hollow between three Hills. But 
 when the old woman stirred the kneeling lady, she 
 lifted not her head. 
 
 " Here has been a sweet hour s sport ! " said tho 
 withered crone, chuckling to herself. 
 
THE TOLL-GATHERER S DAY. 
 
 A SKETCH OF TRANSITORY LIFE. 
 
 METHINKS, for a person whose instinct bids him 
 rather to pore over the current of life than to plunge 
 into its tumultuous waves, no undesirable retreat were 
 a toll-house beside some thronged thoroughfare of the 
 land. In youth, perhaps, it is good for the observer 
 to run about the earth to leave the track of his foot 
 steps far and wide to mingle himself with the action 
 of numberless vicissitudes ; and, finally, in some calm 
 solitude, to feed a musing spirit on all that he has seen 
 and felt. But there are natures too indolent, or too 
 sensitive, to endure the dust, the sunshine, or the rain, 
 the turmoil of moral and physical elements, to which 
 all the wayfarers of the world expose themselves. For 
 such a man, how pleasant a miracle, could life be 
 made to roll its variegated length by the threshold of 
 his own hermitage, and the great globe, as it were, 
 perform its revolutions and shift its thousand scenes 
 before his eyes without whirling him onward in its 
 course. If any mortal be favored with a lot analogous 
 to this, it is the toll-gatherer. So, at least, have I 
 often fancied, while lounging on a bench at the door 
 of a small square edifice, which stands between shore 
 and shore in the midst of a long bridge. Beneath the 
 timbers ebbs and flows an arm of the sea ; while above, 
 like the life-blood through a great artery, the travel of 
 the north and east is continually throbbing. Sitting on 
 
THE TOLL-GATHERER 9 S DAY. 23f> 
 
 the aforesaid bench I amuse myself with a conception, 
 illustrated by numerous pencil sketches in the air, of 
 the toll-gatherer s day. 
 
 In the morning dim, gray, dewy summer s morn 
 the distant roll of ponderous wheels begins to 
 mingle with my old friend s slumbers, creaking more 
 and more harshly through the midst of his dream, and 
 gradually replacing it with realities. Hardly con 
 scious of the change from sleep to wakefulness, he 
 finds himself partly clad and throwing wide the toll- 
 gates for the passage of a fragrant load of hay. The 
 timbers groan beneath the slow-revolving wheels ; one 
 sturdy yeoman stalks beside the oxen, and, peering 
 from the summit of the hay, by the glimmer of the 
 half-extinguished lantern over the toll-house, is seen 
 the drowsy visage of his comrade, who has enjoj-ed a 
 nap some ten miles long. The toll is paid creak, 
 creak, again go the wheels, and the huge haymow van 
 ishes into the morning mist. As yet, nature is but 
 half awake, and familiar objects appear visionary. 
 But yonder, dashing from the shore with a rattling 
 thunder of the wheels and a confused clatter of hoofs, 
 comes the never-tiring mail, which has hurried onward 
 at the same headlong, restless rate, all through the 
 quiet night. The bridge resounds in one continued 
 peal as the coach rolls on without a pause, merely af 
 fording the toll-gatherer a glimpse at the sleepy pas 
 sengers, who now bestir their torpid limbs and snuff 
 a cordial in the briny air. The mom breathes upon 
 them and blushes, and they forget how wearily the 
 darkness toiled away. And behold now the fervid 
 day, in his bright chariot, glittering aslant over the 
 waves, nor scorning to throw a tribute of his golden 
 beams on the toll-gatherer s little hermitage. The 
 
236 TWICE-TOLD TALES. 
 
 old man looks eastward, and (for he is a moralizer) 
 frames a simile of the stage-coach and the sun. 
 
 While the world is rousing itself, we may glance 
 slightly at the scene of our sketch. It sits above the 
 bosom of the broad flood, a spot not of earth, but in 
 the midst of waters, which rush with a murmuring 
 sound among the massive beams beneath. Over the 
 door is a weather-beaten board, inscribed with the 
 rates of toll, in letters so nearly effaced that the gild 
 ing of the sunshine can hardly make them legible. 
 Beneath the window is a wooden bench, on which a 
 long succession of weary wayfarers have reposed them 
 selves. Peeping within doors, we perceive the white 
 washed walls bedecked with sundry lithographic prints 
 and advertisements of various import, and the immense 
 showbill of a wandering caravan. And there sits our 
 good old toll-gatherer, glorified by the early sunbeams. 
 He is a man, as his aspect may announce, of quiet 
 soul, and thoughtful, shrewd, yet simple mind, who, 
 of the wisdom which the passing world scatters along 
 the wayside, has gathered a reasonable store. 
 
 Now the sun smiles upon the landscape, and earth 
 smiles back again upon the sky. Frequent, now, are 
 the travellers. The toll-gatherer s practised ear can 
 distinguish the weight of every vehicle, the number 
 of its wheels, and how many horses beat the resound 
 ing timbers with their iron tramp. Here, in a sub 
 stantial family chaise, setting forth betimes to take 
 advantage of the dewy road, come a gentleman and 
 his wife, with their rosy-cheeked little girl sitting glad- 
 somely between them. The bottom of the chaise is 
 heaped with multifarious band-boxes, and carpet-bags, 
 and beneath the axle swings a leathern trunk, dtfety 
 with yesterday s journey. Next appears a four-wheeled 
 
THE TOLL-GATHERER S DAY. 237 
 
 carryall, peopled with a round half dozen of pretty 
 girls, all drawn by a single horse, and driven by a 
 single gentleman. Luckless wight, doomed, through 
 a whole summer day, to be the butt of mirth and mis 
 chief among the frolicsome maidens ! Bolt upright 
 in a sulky rides a thin, sour-visaged man, who, as he 
 pays his toll, hands the toll-gatherer a printed card 
 to stick upon the wall. The vinegar-faced traveller 
 proves to be a manufacturer of pickles. Now paces 
 slowly from timber to timber a horseman clad in 
 black, with a meditative brow, as of one who, whith 
 ersoever his steed might bear him, would still journey 
 through a mist of brooding thought, He is a country 
 preacher, going to labor at a protracted meeting. The 
 next object passing town ward is a butcher s cart, can 
 opied with its arch of snow-white cotton. Behind 
 comes a " sauceman," driving a wagon full of new po 
 tatoes, green ears of corn, beets, carrots, turnips, and 
 summer squashes; and next, two wrinkled, withered, 
 witeh-looking old gossips, in an antediluvian chaise, 
 drawn by a horse of former generations, and going to 
 peddle out a lot of huckleberries. See there, a man 
 trundling a wheelbarrow load of lobsters. And now 
 a milk cart rattles briskly onward, covered with green 
 canvas, and conveying the contributions of a whole 
 herd of cows in large tin canisters. But let all these 
 pay their toll and pass. Here comes a spectacle that 
 causes the old toll-gatherer to smile benignantly, as if 
 the travellers brought sunshine with them and lav 
 ished its gladsome influence all along the road. 
 
 It is a barouche of the newest style, the varnished 
 panels of which reflect the whole moving panorama 
 of the landscape, and show a picture, likewise, of our 
 friend, with his visage broadened, so that his medita- 
 
238 TWICE-TOLD TALES. 
 
 tive smile is transformed to grotesque merriment. 
 Within, sits a youth, fresh as the summer morn, and 
 beside him a young lady in white, with white gloves 
 upon her slender hands, and a white veil flowing down 
 over her face. But methinks her blushing cheek bums 
 through the snowy veil. Another white-robed virgin 
 sits in front. And who are these, on whom, and on 
 all that appertains to them, the dust of earth seems 
 never to have settled ? Two lovers, whom the priest 
 has blessed this blessed morn, and sent them forth, 
 with one of the bridemaids, on the matrimonial tour. 
 Take my blessing too, ye happy ones ! May the sky 
 not frown upon you, nor clouds bedew you with their 
 chill and sullen rain! May the hot sun kindle no 
 fever in your hearts ! May your whole life s pilgrim 
 age be as blissful as this first day s journey, and its 
 close be gladdened with even brighter anticipations 
 than those which hallow your bridal night ! 
 
 They pass ; and ere the reflection of their joy has 
 faded from his face, another spectacle throws a melan 
 choly shadow over the spirit of the observing man. In 
 a close carriage sits a fragile figure, muffled carefully, 
 and shrinking even from the mild breath of summer. 
 She leans against a manly form, and his arm enfolds 
 her, as if to guard his treasure from some enemy. Let 
 but a few weeks pass, and when he shall strive to em 
 brace that loved one, he will press only desolation to 
 his heart. 
 
 And now has morning gathered up her dewy pearls 
 and fled away. The sun rolls blazing through the sky, 
 and cannot find a cloud to cool his face with. The 
 horses toil sluggishly along the bridge, and heave their 
 glistening sides in short quick pantings, when the reins 
 are tightened at the toll-house. Glisten, too, the facea 
 
THE TOLL-GATHERER S DAY. 239 
 
 of the travellers. Their garments are thickly bestre\vn 
 with dust ; their whiskers and hair look hoary ; their 
 throats are choked with the dusty atmosphere which 
 they have left behind them. No air is stirring 011 the 
 road. Nature dares draw no breath, lest she should 
 inhale a stifling cloud of dust. "A hot and dusty 
 day ! " cry the poor pilgrims, as they wipe their be 
 grimed foreheads, and woo the doubtful breeze which 
 the river bears along with it. " Awful hot ! Dreadful 
 dusty ! " answers the sympathetic toll-gatherer. They 
 start again to pass through the fiery furnace, while he 
 reenters his cool hermitage, and besprinkles it with a 
 pail of briny water from the stream beneath. He 
 thinks within himself that the sun is not so fierce here 
 as elsewhere, and that the gentle air does not forget 
 him in these sultry days. Yes, old friend ; and a quiet 
 heart will make a dog-day temperate. He hears a 
 weary footstep, and perceives a traveller with pack and 
 staff, who sits down upon the hospitable bench, and re 
 moves the hat from his wet brow. The toll-gatherer 
 administers a cup of cold water, and discovering his 
 guest to be a man of homely sense, he engages him in 
 profitable talk, uttering the maxims of a philosophy 
 which he has found in his own soul, but knows not 
 how it came there. And as the wayfarer makes ready 
 to resume his journey, he tells him a sovereign remedy 
 for blistered feet. 
 
 Now comes the noontide hour of all the hours 
 nearest akin to midnight ; for each has its own calm 
 ness and repose. Soon, however, the world begins to 
 turn again upon its axis, and it seems the busiest 
 epoch of the day ; when an accident impedes the march 
 of sublunary things. The draw being lifted to permit 
 the passage of a schooner, laden with wood from the 
 
240 TWICE-TOLD TALES. 
 
 eastern forests, she sticks immovably, right athwart 
 the bridge ! Meanwhile, on both sides of the chasm, 
 a throng of impatient travellers fret and fume. Here 
 are two sailors in a gig, with the top thrown back, both 
 puffing cigars, and swearing all sorts of forecastle 
 oaths; there, in a smart chaise, a dashingly dressed 
 gentleman and lady, he from a tailor s shopboard and 
 she from a milliner s back room the aristocrats of 
 a summer afternoon. And what are the haughtiest of 
 us but the ephemeral aristocrats of a summer s day ? 
 Here is a tin pedlar, whose glittering ware bedazzles 
 all beholders, like a travelling meteor or opposition 
 sun ; and on the other side a seller of spruce beer, 
 which brisk liquor is confined in several dozen of stone 
 bottles. Here comes a party of ladies on horseback, 
 in green riding habits, and gentlemen attendant ; and 
 there a flock of sheep for the market, pattering over 
 the bridge with a multitudinous clatter of their little 
 hoofs. Here a Frenchman, with a hand organ on his 
 shoulder ; and there an itinerant Swiss jeweller. On 
 this side, heralded by a blast of clarions and bugles, 
 appears a train of wagons, conveying all the wild beasts 
 of a caravan ; and on that, a company of summer sol 
 diers, marching from village to village on a festival 
 campaign, attended by the " Brass band." Now look 
 at the scene, and it presents an emblem of the myste 
 rious confusion, the apparently insolvable riddle, in 
 which individuals, or the great world itself, seem often 
 to be involved. What miracle shall set all things 
 right again? 
 
 But see ! the schooner has thrust her bulky carcass 
 through the chasm ; the draw descends ; horse and 
 foot pass onward, and leave the bridge vacant from 
 end to end. " And thus," muses the toll-gatherer, 
 
THE TOLL-GATHERER S DAY. 241 
 
 " have I found it with all stoppages, even though the 
 universe seemed to be at a stand." The sage old man ! 
 Far westward now the reddening sun throws a broad 
 sheet of splendor across the flood, and to the eves o 
 distant boatmen gleams brightly among the timbers of 
 the bridge. Strollers come from the town to quaff the 
 freshening breeze. One or two let down long lines, 
 and haul up flapping flounders, or cunners, or small 
 cod, or perhaps an eel. Others, and fair girls among 
 them, with the flush of the hot day still on their 
 cheeks, bend over the railing and watch the heaps of 
 seaweed floating upward with the flowing tide. The 
 horses now tramp heavily along the bridge, and wist 
 fully bethink them of their stables. Rest, rest, thou 
 weary world ! for to-morrow s round of toil and pleas 
 ure will be as wearisome as to-day s has been : yet 
 both shall bear thee onward a day s march of eternity. 
 Now the old toll-gatherer looks seaward, and discerns 
 the light-house kindling on a far island, and the stars t 
 too, kindling in the sky, as if but a little way beyond ; 
 and mingling reveries of heaven with remembrances 
 of earth, the whole procession of mortal travellers, all 
 the dusty pilgrimage which he has witnessed, seems 
 like a flitting show of phantoms for his thoughtful soul 
 to muse upon. 
 
 VOL. I. 18 
 
THE VISION OF THE FOUNTAIN. . 
 
 AT fifteen I became a resident in a country village, 
 more than a hundred miles from home. The morning 
 after my arrival a September morning, but warm 
 and bright as any in July I rambled into a wood of 
 oaks, with a few walnut-trees intermixed, forming the 
 closest shade above my head. The ground was rocky, 
 uneven, overgrown with bushes and clumps of young 
 saplings, and traversed only by cattle paths. The 
 track which I chanced to follow led me to a crystal 
 spring, with a border of grass as freshly green as on 
 May morning, and overshadowed by the limb of a 
 great oak. One solitary sunbeam found its way down, 
 and played like a goldfish in the water. 
 
 From my childhood I have loved to gaze into a 
 spring. The water filled a circular basin, small but 
 deep, and set round with stones, some of which were 
 covered with slimy moss, the others naked, and of 
 variegated hue, reddish, white, and brown. The bot 
 tom was covered with coarse sand, which sparkled 
 in the lonely sunbeam, and seemed to illuminate the 
 spring with an unborrowed light. In one spot the 
 gush of the water violently agitated the sand, but with 
 out obscuring the fountain, or breaking the glassiness 
 of its surface. It appeared as if some living creature 
 were about to emerge the Naiad of the spring, per 
 haps in the shape of a beautiful young woman, with 
 a gown of filmy water moss, a belt of rainbow drops, 
 and a cold, pure, passionless countenance. How would 
 
THE VISION OF THE FOUNTAIN. 243 
 
 the beholder shiver, pleasantly yet fearfully, to see 
 her sitting on one of the stones, paddling her white 
 feet in the ripples, and throwing up water to sparkle 
 in the sun ! Wherever she laid her hands on grass 
 and flowers, they would immediately be moist as with 
 morning dew. Then would she set about her labors, 
 like a careful housewife, to clear the fountain of with 
 ered leaves, and bits of slimy wood, and old acorns 
 from the oaks above, and grains of corn left by cattle 
 in drinking, till the bright sand, in the bright water, 
 w r as like a treasury of diamonds. But, should the in 
 truder approach too near, he would find only the drops 
 of a summer shower glistening about the spot where he 
 had seen her. 
 
 Reclining on the border of grass, where the dewy 
 goddess should have been, I bent forward, and a pail 
 of eyes met mine within the w r atery mirror. The} 
 were the reflection of my OWTI. I looked again, and 
 lo ! another face, deeper in the fountain than my own 
 image, more distinct in all the features, yet faint as 
 thought. The vision had the aspect of a fair young 
 girl, with locks of paly gold. A mirthful expression 
 laughed in the eyes and dimpled over the whole shad 
 owy countenance, till it seemed just what a fountain 
 would be, if, while dancing merrily into the sunshine, 
 it should assume the shape of woman. Through the 
 dim rosiness of the cheeks I could see the brown 
 leaves, the slimy twigs, the acorns, and the sparkling 
 sand. The solitary sunbeam was diffused among the 
 golden hair, which melted into its faint brightness, 
 and became a glory round that head so beautiful-- 
 
 My description can give no idea how suddenly the 
 fountain was thus tenanted, and how soon it was left 
 desolate. I breathed, and there was the face ! I held 
 
244 TWICE-TOLD TALES. 
 
 my breath, and it was gone ! Had it passed away, 
 or faded into nothing? I doubted whether it had ever 
 been. 
 
 My sweet readers, what a dreamy and delicious 
 hour did I spend, where that vision found and left 
 me ! For a long time I sat perfectly still, waiting 
 till it should reappear, and fearful that the slightest 
 motion, or even the flutter of my breath, might 
 frighten it away. Thus have I often started from a 
 pleasant dream, and then kept quiet in hopes to while 
 it back. Deep were my musings, as to the race and 
 attributes of that ethereal being. Had I created her ? 
 Was she the daughter of my fancy, akin to those 
 strange shapes which peep under the lids of children s 
 eyes? And did her beauty gladden me, for that 
 one moment, and then die ? Or was she a water 
 nymph within the fountain, or fairy, or woodland 
 goddess, peeping over my shoulder, or the ghost 
 of some forsaken maid who had drowned herself 
 for love ? Or, in good truth, had a lovely girl, with 
 a warm heart and lips that would bear pressure, sto 
 len softly behind me, and thrown her image into the 
 spring ? 
 
 I watched and waited, but no vision came again. 
 I departed, but with a spell upon me which drew me 
 back, that same afternoon, to the haunted spring. 
 There was the water gushing, the sand sparkling, 
 and the sunbeam glimmering. There the vision was 
 not, but only a great frog, the hermit of that solitude, 
 who immediately withdrew his speckled snout and 
 made himself invisible, all except a pair of long 
 legs, beneath a stone. Methought he had a devilish 
 look ! I could have slain him as an enchanter 
 who kept the mysterious beauty imprisoned in the 
 fountain. 
 
THE VISION OF THE FOUNTAIN. 245 
 
 Sad and heavy, I was returning to the village. 
 Between me and the church spire rose a little hill, 
 and on its summit a group of trees, insulated from all 
 the rest of the wood, with their own share of radiance 
 hovering on them from the west, and their own solitary 
 shadow falling to the east. The afternoon being far 
 declined, the sunshine was almost pensive, and the 
 shade almost cheerful ; glory and gloom were mingled 
 in the placid light ; as if the spirits of the Day and 
 Evening had met in friendship under those trees, and 
 found themselves akin. I was admiring the picture, 
 when the shape of a young girl emerged from behind 
 the clump of oaks. My heart knew her ; it was the 
 Vision ; but so distant and ethereal did she seem, so 
 unmixed with earth, so imbued with the pensive glory 
 of the spot where she was standing, that my spirit 
 sunk within me, sadder than before. How could I 
 ever reach her ? 
 
 While I gazed, a sudden shower came pattering 
 down upon the leaves. In a moment the air was full 
 of brightness, each raindrop catching a portion of 
 sunlight as it fell, and the whole gentle shower ap 
 pearing like a mist, just substantial enough to bear the 
 burden of radiance. A rainbow, vivid as Niagara s, 
 was painted in the air. Its southern limb came down 
 before the group of trees, and enveloped th* fair 
 Vision, as if the hues of heaven were the only gar 
 ment for her beauts . When the rainbow vanished, 
 she, who had seemed a part of it, was no longer 
 there. Was her existence absorbed in nature s love 
 liest phenomenon, and did her pure frame dissolve 
 away in the varied light ? Yet, I would not despair 
 of her return ; for, robed in the rainbow, she was the 
 emblem of Hope. 
 
246 TWICE-TOLD TALES. 
 
 Thus did the vision leave me ; and many a doleful 
 day succeeded to the parting moment. By the spring, 
 and in the wood, and on the hill, and through the vil 
 lage ; at dewy sunrise, burning noon, and at that 
 magic hour of sunset when she had vanished from my 
 sight, I sought her, but in vain. Weeks came and 
 went, months rolled away, and she appeared not in 
 them. I imparted my mystery to none, but wandered 
 to and fro, or sat in solitude, like one that had caught 
 a glimpse of heaven, and could take no more joy on 
 earth. I withdrew into an inner world, where my 
 thoughts lived and breathed, and the Vision in the 
 midst of them. Without intending it, I became at 
 once the author and hero of a romance, conjuring up 
 rivals, imagining events, the actions of others and my 
 own, and experiencing every change of passion, till 
 jealousy and despair had their end in bliss. Oh, had 
 I the burning fancy of my early youth, with man 
 hood s colder gift, the power of expression, your 
 hearts, sweet ladies, should flutter at my tale ! 
 
 In the middle of January I was summoned home. 
 The day before my departure, visiting the spots which 
 had been hallowed by the Vision, I found that the 
 spring had a frozen bosom, and nothing but the snow 
 and a glare of winter sunshine on the hill of the rain 
 bow. " Let me hope," thought I, " or my heart will be 
 as icy as the fountain, and the whole world as desolate 
 as this snowy hill." Most of the day was spent in 
 preparing for the journey, which was to commence at 
 four o clock the next morning. About an hour after 
 supper, when all was in readiness, I descended from 
 my chamber to the sitting-room, to take leave of the 
 old clergyman and his family with whom I had been 
 an inmate. A gust of wind blew out my lamp as ] 
 passed through the entry. 
 
THE VISION OF THE FOUNTAIN. 247 
 
 According to their invariable custom, so pleasant a 
 one when the fire blazes cheerfully, the family were 
 sitting in the parlor, with no other light than what 
 came from the hearth. As the good clergyman s 
 scanty stipend compelled him to use all sorts of econ 
 omy, the foundation of his fires was always a large 
 heap of tan, or ground bark, which would smoulder 
 away, from morning till night, with a dull warmth 
 and no flame. This evening the heap of tan was 
 newly put on, and surmounted with three sticks of red 
 oak, full of moisture, and a few pieces of dry pine, 
 that had not yet kindled. There was no light, except 
 the little that came sullenly from two half -burned 
 brands, without even glimmering on the andirons. 
 But I knew the position of the old minister s arm 
 chair, and also where his wife sat, with her knitting- 
 work, and how to avoid his two daughters, one a stout 
 country lass, and the other a consumptive girl. Grop 
 ing through the gloom, I found my own place next to 
 that of the son, a learned collegian, who had come 
 home to keep school in the village during the winter 
 vacation. I noticed that there was less room than 
 usual, to-night, between the collegian s chair and 
 mine. 
 
 As people are always taciturn in the dark, not a 
 word was said for some time after my entrance. Noth 
 ing broke the stillness but the regular click of the 
 matron s knitting-needles. At times, the fire threw 
 out a brief and dusky gleam, which twinkled on the 
 old man s glasses, and hovered doubtfully round our 
 circle, but was far too faint to portray the individuals 
 who composed it. Were we not like ghosts ? Dreamy 
 as the scene was, might it not be a type of the mode 
 in which departed people, who had known and loved 
 
248 TWICE-TOLD TALES. 
 
 each other here, would hold communion in eternity? 
 We were aware of each other s presence, not by sight, 
 nor sound, nor touch, but by an inward consciousness. 
 Would it not be so among the dead ? 
 
 The silence was interrupted by the consumptive 
 daughter, addressing a remark to some one in the 
 circle whom she called Rachel. Her tremulous and 
 decayed accents were answered by a single word, but 
 in a voice that made me start, and bend towards the 
 spot whence it had proceeded. Had I ever heard that 
 sweet, low tone ? If not, why did it rouse up so many 
 old recollections, or mockeries of such, the shadows of 
 things familiar, yet unknown, and fill my mind with 
 confused images of her features who had spoken, 
 though buried in the gloom of the parlor? Whom 
 had my heart recognized, that it throbbed so ? I 
 listened to catch her gentle breathing, and strove, by 
 the intensity of my gaze, to picture forth a shape 
 where none was visible. 
 
 Suddenly the dry pine caught ; the fire blazed up 
 with a ruddy glow ; and where the darkness had been, 
 there was she the Vision of the Fountain ! A spirit 
 of radiance only, she had vanished with the rainbow, 
 and appeared again in the firelight, perhaps to flicker 
 with the blaze, and be gone. Yet, her cheek was rosy 
 and life-like, and her features, in the bright warmth of 
 the room, were even sweeter and tenderer than my 
 recollection of them. She knew me ! The mirthful 
 expression that had laughed in her eyes and dimpled 
 over her countenance, when I beheld her faint beauty 
 in the fountain, was laughing and dimpling there now. 
 One moment our glance mingled the next, down 
 rolled the heap of tan upon the kindled wood and 
 darkness snatched away the Daughter of the 
 and gave her back to me no more ! 
 
THE VISION OF THE FOUNTAIN. 249 
 
 Fair ladies, there is nothing more to tell. Must 
 fche simple mystery be revealed, then, that Rachel was 
 the daughter of the village squire, and had left home 
 for a boarding-school, the morning after I arrived 
 and returned the day before my departure ? If I 
 transformed her to an angel, it is what every youth 
 ful lover does for his mistress. Therein consists the 
 essence of my story. But slight the change, sweet 
 maids, to make angels of yourselves ! 
 
FANCY S SHOW BOX. 
 
 A MORALITY. 
 
 WHAT is Guilt? A stain upon the soul. And it 
 is a point of vast interest whether the soul may con 
 tract such stains, in all their depth and flagrancy, 
 from deeds which may have been plotted and resolved 
 upon, but which, physically, have never had existence. 
 Must the fleshly hand and visible frame of man set 
 its seal to the evil designs of the soul, in order to give 
 them their entire validity against the sinner? Or, 
 while none but crimes perpetrated are cognizable be 
 fore an earthly tribunal, will guilty thoughts of 
 which guilty deeds are no more than shadows will 
 these draw down the full weight of a condemning 
 sentence, in the supreme court of eternity? In the 
 solitude of a midnight chamber or in a desert, afar 
 from men or in a church, while the body is kneeling, 
 the soul may pollute itself even with those crimes 
 which we are accustomed to deem altogether carnal. 
 If this be true, it is a fearful truth. 
 
 Let us illustrate the subject by an imaginary exam 
 ple. A venerable gentleman, one Mr. Smith, who had 
 long been regarded as a pattern of moral excellence, 
 was warming his aged blood with a glass or two of 
 generous wine. His children being gone forth about 
 their worldly business, and his grandchildren at school, 
 he sat alone, in a deep, luxurious arm-chair, with his 
 Ceet beneath a richly-carved mahogany table. Some 
 
FANCY S SHOW BOX. 251 
 
 old people have a dread of solitude, and when better 
 company may not be had, rejoice even to hear the 
 quiet breathing of a babe, asleep upon the carpet. 
 But Mr. Smith, whose silver hair was the bright sym 
 bol of a life unstained, except by such spots as are 
 inseparable from human nature, had no need of a 
 babe to protect him by its purity, nor of a grown per 
 son to stand between him and his own soul. Never 
 theless, either Manhood must converse with Age, or 
 Womanhood must soothe him with gentle cares, or 
 Infancy must sport around his chair, or his thoughts 
 will stray into the misty region of the past, and the 
 old man be chill and sad. Wine will not always cheer 
 him. Such might have been the case with Mr. Smith, 
 when, through the brilliant medium of his glass of old 
 Madeira, he beheld three figures entering the room. 
 These were Fancy, who had assumed the garb and as 
 pect of an itinerant showman, with a box of pictures 
 on her back ; and Memory, in the likeness of a clerk, 
 with a pen behind her ear, an inkhorn at her button 
 hole, and a huge manuscript volume beneath her arm ; 
 and lastly, behind the other two, a person shrouded in 
 a dusky mantle, which concealed both face and form. 
 But Mr. Smith had a shrewd idea that it was Con 
 science. 
 
 How kind of Fancy, Memory, and Conscience to 
 visit the old gentleman, just as he was beginning to 
 imagine that the wine had neither so bright a sparkle 
 nor so excellent a flavor as when himself and the 
 liquor were less aged ! Through the dim length of the 
 apartment, where crimson curtains muffled the glare 
 of sunshine and created a rich obscurity, the three 
 guests drew near the silver-haired old man. Memory, 
 with a finger between the leaves of her huge volume, 
 
252 TWICE-TOLD TALES. 
 
 placed herself at his right hand. Conscience, with her 
 face still hidden in the dusky mantle, took her station 
 on the left, so as to be next his heart ; while Fancy set 
 down her picture box upon the table, with the magni 
 fying glass convenient to his eye. We can sketch 
 merely the outlines of two or three out of the many 
 pictures which, at the pulling of a string, successively 
 peopled the box with the semblances of living scenes. 
 One was a moonlight picture : in the background, 
 a lowly dwelling ; and in front, partly shadowed by a 
 tree, yet besprinkled with flakes of radiance, two youth 
 ful figures, male and female. The young man stood 
 with folded arms, a haughty smile upon his lip, and a 
 gleam of triumph in his eye, as he glanced downward 
 at the kneeling girl. She was almost prostrate at his 
 feet, evidently sinking under a weight of shame and 
 anguish, which hardly allowed her to lift her clasped 
 hands in supplication. Her eyes she could not lift. 
 But neither her agony, nor the lovely features on which 
 it was depicted, nor the slender grace of the form 
 which it convulsed, appeared to soften the obduracy of 
 the young man. He was the personification of trium 
 phant scorn. Now, strange to say, as old Mr. Smith 
 peeped through the magnifying glass, which made the 
 objects start out from the canvas with magical decep 
 tion, he began to recognize the farm-house, the tree, 
 and both the figures of the picture. The young man, 
 in times long past, had often met his gaze within the 
 looking-glass ; the girl was the very image of his first 
 love his cottage love his Martha Burroughs ! Mr. 
 Smith was scandalized. " O vile and slanderous pict 
 ure ! " he exclaims. u When have I triumphed over 
 ruined innocence ? Was not Martha wedded, in her 
 teens, to David Tomkins, who won her girlish love, 
 
FANCY S SHOW BOX. 253 
 
 and long enjoyed her affection as a wife ? And ever 
 since his death she has lived a reputable widow ! " 
 Meantime, Memory was turning over the leaves of her 
 volume, rustling them to and fro with uncertain fingers, 
 until, among the earlier pages, she found one which 
 had reference to this picture. She reads it, close to 
 the old gentleman s ear ; it is a record merely of sin 
 ful thought, which never was embodied in an act ; but 
 while Memory is reading, Conscience unveils her face, 
 and strikes a dagger to the heart of Mr. Smith. 
 Though not a death-blow, the torture was extreme. 
 
 The exhibition proceeded. One after another, 
 Fancy displayed her pictures, all of which appeared 
 to have been painted by some malicious artist on pur 
 pose to vex Mr. Smith. Not a shadow of proof could 
 have been adduced, in any earthly court, that he was 
 guilty of the slightest of those sins which were thus 
 made to stare him in the face. In one scene there 
 was a table set out, with several bottles, and glasses 
 half filled with wine, which threw back the dull ray of 
 an expiring lamp. There had been mirth and rev 
 elry, until the hand of the clock stood just at mid 
 night, when murder stepped between the boon com 
 panions. A young man had fallen on the floor, and 
 lay stone dead, with a ghastly wound crushed into his 
 temple, while over him, with a delirium of mingled 
 rage and horror in his countenance, stood the youth 
 ful likeness of Mr. Smith. The murdered youth wore 
 the features of Edward Spencer ! " What does this 
 rascal of a painter mean?" cries Mr. Smith, pro 
 voked beyond all patience. "Edward Spencer was 
 my earliest and dearest friend, true to me as I to him, 
 through more than half a century. Neither I, nor any 
 other, ever murdered him. Was he not alive within 
 
TWICE-TOLD TALES. 
 
 five years, and did he not, in token of our long friend, 
 ship, bequeath me his gold-headed cane and a mourn 
 ing ring?" Again had Memory been turning over 
 her volume, and fixed at length upon so confused a 
 page that she surely must have scribbled it when she 
 was tipsy. The purport was, however, that while Mr. 
 Smith and Edward Spencer were heating their young 
 blood with wine, a quarrel had flashed up between 
 them, and Mr. Smith, in deadly wrath, had flung a 
 bottle at Spencer s head. True, it missed its aim, 
 and merely smashed a looking-glass ; and the next 
 morning, when the incident was imperfectly remem 
 bered, they had shaken hands with a hearty laugh. 
 Yet, again, while Memory was reading, Conscience 
 unveiled her face, struck a dagger to the heart of Mr. 
 Smith, and quelled his remonstrance with her iron 
 frown. The pain was quite excruciating. 
 
 Some of the pictures had been painted with so 
 doubtful a touch, and in colors so faint and pale, that 
 the subjects could barely be conjectured. A dull, 
 semi-transparent mist had been thrown over the sur 
 face of the canvas, into which the figures seemed to 
 vanish, while the eye sought most earnestly to fix 
 them. But in every scene, however dubiously por 
 trayed, Mr. Smith was invariably haunted by his own 
 lineaments, at various ages, as in a dusty mirror. Af 
 ter poring several minutes over one of these blurred 
 and almost indistinguishable pictures, he began to see 
 that the painter had intended to represent him, now 
 in the decline of life, as stripping the clothes from the 
 backs of three half-starved children. " Really, this 
 puzzles me ! " quoth Mr. Smith, with the irony of 
 conscious rectitude. " Asking pardon of the painter, 
 I pronounce him a fool, as well as a scandalous knava 
 
FANCY S SHOW BOX. 255 
 
 A. man of my standing in the world to be robbing 
 little children of their clothes ! Ridiculous ! " But 
 while he spoke, Memory had searched her fatal vol 
 ume, and found a page, which, with her sad, calm 
 voice, she poured into his ear. It was not altogether 
 inapplicable to the misty scene. It told how Mr. 
 Smith had been grievously tempted by many devilish 
 sophistries, on the ground of a legal quibble, to com 
 mence a lawsuit against three orphan children, joint 
 heirs to a considerable estate. Fortunately, before he 
 was quite decided, his claims had turned out nearly 
 as devoid of law as justice. As Memory ceased to 
 read, Conscience again thrust aside her mantle, and 
 woidd have struck her victim with the envenomed 
 dagger, only that he struggled and clasped his hands 
 before his heart. Even then, however, he sustained 
 an ugly gash. 
 
 Why shoidd we follow Fancy through the whole 
 series of those awful pictures ? Painted by an artist 
 of wondrous power, and terrible acquaintance with 
 the secret soul, they embodied the ghosts of all the 
 never perpetrated sins that had glided through the 
 lifetime of Mr. Smith. And could such beings of 
 cloudy fantasy, so near akin to nothingness, give valid 
 evidence against him at the day of judgment ? Be 
 that the case or not, there is reason to believe that 
 one truly penitential tear would have washed away 
 each hateful picture, and left the canvas white as 
 snow. But Mr. Smith, at a prick of Conscience too 
 keen to be endured, bellowed aloud, with impatient 
 agony, and suddenly discovered that his three guests 
 were gone. There he sat alone, a silver-haired and 
 highly-venerated old man, in the rich gloom of the 
 crimson-curtained room, with no box of pictures on 
 
256 TWICE-TOLD TALES. 
 
 the table, but only a decanter of most excellent Ma 
 deira. Yet his heart still seemed to fester with the 
 venom of the dagger. 
 
 Nevertheless, the unfortunate old gentleman might 
 have argued the matter with Conscience, and alleged 
 many reasons wherefore she should not smite him so 
 pitilessly. Were we to take up his cause, it should 
 be somewhat in the following fashion : A scheme of 
 guilt, till it be put in execution, greatly resembles a 
 train of incidents in a projected tale. The latter, in 
 order to produce a sense of reality in the reader s 
 mind, must be conceived with such proportionate 
 strength by the author as to seem, in the glow of 
 fancy, more like truth, past, present, or to come, than 
 purely fiction. The prospective sinner, on the other 
 hand, weaves his plot of crime, but seldom or never 
 feels a perfect certainty that it will be executed. 
 There is a dreaminess diffused about his thoughts , 
 in a dream, as it were, he strikes the death-blow 
 into his victim s heart, and starts to find an indelible 
 blood-stain on his hand. Thus a novel writer or a 
 dramatist, in creating a villain of romance and fitting 
 him with evil deeds, and the villain of actual life, in 
 projecting crimes that will be perpetrated, may almost 
 meet each other half-way between reality and fancy. 
 It is not until the crime is accomplished that guilt 
 clinches its gripe upon the guilty heart, and claims it 
 for its own. Then, and not before, sin is actually felt 
 and acknowledged, and, if unaccompanied by repent 
 ance, grows a thousand-fold more virulent by its self- 
 consciousness. Be it considered, also, that men often 
 over-estimate their capacity for evil. At a distance, 
 while its attendant circumstances do not press tfpon 
 their notice, and its results are dimly seen, they cau 
 
FANCY S SHOW BOX. 257 
 
 bear to contemplate it. They may take the steps 
 which lead to crime, impelled by the same sort of 
 mental action as in working out a mathematical prob 
 lem, yet be powerless with compunction at the final 
 moment. They knew not what deed it was that they 
 deemed themselves resolved to do. In truth, there is 
 no such thing; in man s nature as a settled and full 
 
 O 
 
 resolve, either for good or evil, except at the very mo 
 ment of execution. Let us hope, therefore, that all 
 the dreadful consequences of sin will not be incurred f 
 unless the act have set its seal upon the thought. 
 
 Yet, with the slight fancy work which we have 
 framed, some sad and awful truths are interwoven. 
 Man must not disclaim his brotherhood, even with the 
 guiltiest, since, though his hand be clean, his heart 
 has surely been polluted by the flitting phantoms of 
 iniquity. He must feel that, when he shall knock at 
 the gate of heaven, no semblance of an unspotted life 
 can entitle him to entrance there. Penitence must 
 kneel, and Mercy come from the footstool of the 
 throne, or that golden gate will never open ! 
 
 VOL. I. 17 
 
DR. HEIDEGGER S EXPERIMENT. 
 
 THAT very singular man, old Dr. Heidegger, once 
 invited four venerable friends to meet him in his 
 study. There were three white-bearded gentlemen, 
 Mr. Medbourne, Colonel Killigrew, and Mr. Gas- 
 eoigne, and a withered gentlewoman, whose name was 
 the Widow Wycherly. They were all melancholy old 
 creatures, who had been unfortunate in life, and whose 
 greatest misfortune it was that they were not long 
 ago in their graves. Mr. Medbourne, in the vigor of 
 his age, had been a prosperous merchant, but had lost 
 his all by a frantic speculation, and was now little bet 
 ter than a mendicant. Colonel Killigrew had wasted 
 his best years, and his health and substance, in the 
 pursuit of sinful pleasures, which had given birth to 
 a brood of pains, such as the gout, and divers other 
 torments of soul and body. Mr. Gascoigne was a 
 ruined politician, a man of evil fame, or at least had 
 been so till time had buried him from the knowledge 
 of the present generation, and made him obscure in 
 stead of infamous. As for the Widow Wycherly, 
 tradition tells us that she was a great beauty in her 
 day ; but, for a long while past, she had lived in deep 
 seclusion, on account of certain scandalous stories 
 which had prejudiced the gentry of the town against 
 her. It is a circumstance worth mentioning that each 
 of these three old gentlemen, Mr. Medbourne, Colo 
 nel Killigrew, and Mr. Gascoigne, were early lovers 
 of the Widow Wycherly, and had once been on the 
 
DR. HEIDEGGER S EXPERIMENT. 259 
 
 point of cutting each other s throats for her sake. And, 
 before proceeding further, I will merely hint that Dr. 
 Heidegger and all his four guests were sometimes 
 thought to be a little beside themselves, as is not 
 unfrequently the case with old people, when worried 
 either by present troubles or woful recollections. 
 
 " My dear old friends," said Dr. Heidegger, motion 
 ing them to be seated, " I am desirous of your assist 
 ance in one of those little experiments with which I 
 amuse myself here in my study." 
 
 If all stories were true, Dr. Heidegger s study must 
 have been a very curious place. It was a dim, old- 
 fashioned chamber, festooned with cobwebs, and be 
 sprinkled with antique dust. Around the walls stood 
 several oaken bookcases, the lower shelves of which 
 were filled with rows of gigantic folios and black- 
 letter quartos, and the upper with little parchment- 
 covered duodecimos. Over the central bookcase was 
 a bronze bust of Hippocrates, with which, according 
 to some authorities, Dr. Heidegger was accustomed to 
 hold consultations in all difficult cases of his practice. 
 In the obscurest corner of the room stood a tall and 
 narrow oaken closet, with its door ajar, within which 
 doubtfully appeared a skeleton. Between two of the 
 bookcases hung a looking-glass, presenting its high 
 and dusty plate within a tarnished gilt frame. Among 
 many wonderful stories related of this mirror, it was 
 fabled that the spirits of all the doctor s deceased 
 padents dwelt within its verge, and would stare him 
 in the face whenever he looked thitherward. The op 
 posite side of the chamber was ornamented with the 
 full-length portrait of a young lady, arrayed in the 
 faded magnificence of silk, satin, and brocade, and 
 with a visage as faded as her dress. Above half a 
 
260 TWICE-TOLD TALES. 
 
 century ago, Dr. Heidegger had been on the point of 
 marriage with this young lady ; but, being affected 
 with some slight disorder, she had swallowed one of 
 her lover s prescriptions, and died on the bridal even 
 ing. The greatest curiosity of the study remains to 
 be mentioned ; it was a ponderous folio volume, bound 
 in black leather, with massive silver clasps. There 
 were no letters on the back, and nobody could tell the 
 title of the book. But it was well known to be a book 
 of magic ; and once, when a chambermaid had lifted 
 it, merely to brush away the dust, the skeleton had 
 rattled in its closet, the picture of the young lady had 
 stepped one foot upon the floor, and several ghastly 
 faces had peeped forth from the mirror ; while the 
 brazen head of Hippocrates frowned, and said, " For 
 bear ! " 
 
 Such was Dr. Heidegger s study. On the summer 
 afternoon of our tale a small round table, as black as 
 ebony, stood in the centre of the room, sustaining a 
 cut-glass vase of beautiful form and elaborate work 
 manship. The sunshine came through the window, 
 between the heavy festoons of two faded damask cur 
 tains, and fell directly across this vase ; so that a mild 
 splendor was reflected from it on the ashen visages of 
 the five old people who sat around. Four champagne 
 glasses were also on the table. 
 
 " My dear old friends," repeated Dr. Heidegger, 
 " may I reckon on your aid in performing an exceed 
 ingly curious experiment ? " 
 
 Now Dr. Heidegger was a very strange old gentle 
 man, whose eccentricity had become the nucleus foi 
 a thousand fantastic stories. Some of these fables, to 
 my shame be it spoken, might possibly be traced back 
 to my own veracious self ; and if any passages of the 
 
DR. HEIDEGGER S EXPERIMENT. 261 
 
 present tale should startle the reader s faith. I must 
 be content to bear the stigma of a fiction monger. 
 
 When the doctor s four guests heard him talk of his 
 proposed experiment, they anticipated nothing more 
 wonderful than the murder of a mouse in an air pump, 
 or the examination of a cobweb by the microscope, or 
 some similar nonsense, with which he was constantly 
 in the habit of pestering his intimates. But without 
 waiting for a reply, Dr. Heidegger hobbled across the 
 chamber, and returned with the same ponderous folio, 
 bound in black leather, which common report affirmed 
 to be a book of magic. Undoing the silver clasps, he 
 opened the volume, and took from among its black- 
 letter pages a rose, or what was once a rose, though 
 now the green leaves and crimson petals had assumed 
 one brownish hue, and the ancient flower seemed 
 ready to crumble to dust in the doctor s hands. 
 
 " This rose," said Dr. Heidegger, with a sigh, " this 
 same withered and crumbling flower, blossomed five 
 and fifty years ago. It was given me by Sylvia Ward, 
 whose portrait hangs yonder ; and I meant to wear it 
 in my bosom at our wedding. Five and fifty years it 
 has been treasured between the leaves of this old vol 
 ume. Now, would you deem it possible that this rose 
 of half a century could ever bloom again ? " 
 
 " Nonsense ! " said the Widow Wyeherly, with a 
 peevish toss of her head. " You might as well ask 
 whether an old woman s wrinkled face could ever 
 bloom again." 
 
 u See ! " answered Dr. Heidegger. 
 
 He uncovered the vase, and threw the faded rose 
 into the water which it contained. At first, it lay 
 lightly on the surface of the fluid, appearing to im 
 bibe none of its moisture. Soon, however, a singular 
 
262 TWICE-TOLD TALES. 
 
 change began to be visible. The crushed and dried 
 petals stirred, and assumed a deepening tinge of crim 
 son, as if the flower were reviving from a deathlike 
 slumber ; the slender stalk and twigs of foliage be 
 came green ; and there was the rose of half a century, 
 looking as fresh as when Sylvia Ward had first given 
 it to her lover. It was scarcely full blown ; for some 
 of its delicate red leaves curled modestly around its 
 moist bosom, within which two or three dewdrops 
 were sparkling. 
 
 " That is certainly a very pretty deception," said 
 the doctor s friends ; carelessly, however, for they had 
 witnessed greater miracles at a conjurer s show ; " pray 
 how was it effected? " 
 
 " Did you never hear of the Fountain of Youth ? 
 asked Dr. Heidegger, " which Ponce De Leon, the 
 Spanish adventurer, went in search of two or three 
 centuries ago ? " 
 
 " But did Ponce De Leon ever find it ? " said the 
 Widow Wycherly. 
 
 " No," answered Dr. Heidegger, " for he never 
 sought it in the right place. The famous Fountain of 
 Youth, if I am rightly informed, is situated in the 
 southern part of the Floridian peninsula, not far from 
 Lake Macaco. Its source is overshadowed by several 
 gigantic magnolias, which, though numberless centu 
 ries old, have been kept as fresh as violets by the vir 
 tues of this wonderful water. An acquaintance of 
 mine, knowing my curiosity in such matters, has sent 
 me what you see in the vase." 
 
 "Ahem! " said Colonel Killigrew, who believed not 
 a word of the doctor s story ; " and what may be the 
 effect of this fluid on the human frame ? " 
 
 " You shall judge for yourself, my dear colonel, 
 
DR. HEIDEGGER S EXPERIMENT. 263 
 
 replied Dr. Heidegger ; " and all of you, my respected 
 friends, are welcome to so much of this admirable 
 fluid as may restore to you the bloom of youth. For 
 my own part, having had much trouble in growing 
 old, I am in no hurry to grow young again. With 
 your permission, therefore, I will merely watch the 
 progress of the experiment." 
 
 While he spoke, Dr. Heidegger had been filling the 
 four champagne glasses with the water of the Fount 
 ain of Youth. It was apparently impregnated with 
 an effervescent gas, for little bubbles were continually 
 ascending from the depths of the glasses, and burst 
 ing in silvery spray at the surface. As the liquor dif 
 fused a pleasant perfume, the old people doubted not 
 that it possessed cordial and comfortable properties ; 
 and though utter sceptics as to its rejuvenescent power, 
 they were inclined to swallow it at once. But Dr. 
 Heiiegger besought them to stay a moment. 
 
 " Before you drink, my respectable old friends," 
 said he, " it would be well that, with the experience 
 of a lifetime to direct you, you should draw up a few 
 general rules for your guidance, in passing a second 
 time through the perils of youth. Think what a sin 
 and shame it woidd be, if, with your pecidiar advan 
 tages, you should not become patterns of virtue and 
 wisdom to all the young people of the age ! " 
 
 The doctor s four venerable friends made him no 
 answer, except by a feeble and tremulous laugh ; so 
 very ridiculous was the idea that, knowing how closely 
 repentance treads behind the steps of error, they 
 should ever go astray again. 
 
 " Drink, then," said the doctor, bowing : " I re 
 joice that I have so well selected the subjects of my 
 experiment." 
 
264 TWICE-TOLD TALES. 
 
 With palsied hands, they raised the glasses to their 
 lips. The liquor, if it really possessed such virtues as 
 Dr. Heidegger imputed to it, could not have been 
 bestowed on four human beings who needed it more 
 wofully. They looked as if they had never known 
 what youth or pleasure was, but had been the offspring 
 of Nature s dotage, and always the gray, decrepit, sap 
 less, miserable creatures, who now sat stooping round 
 the doctor s table, without life enough in their souls 
 or bodies to be animated even by the prospect of grow 
 ing young again. They drank off the water, and re 
 placed their glasses on the table. 
 
 Assuredly there was an almost immediate improve 
 ment in the aspect of the party, not unlike what might 
 have been produced by a glass of generous wine, to 
 gether with a sudden glow of cheerful sunshine bright 
 ening over all their visages at once. There was a 
 healthful suffusion on their cheeks, instead of the 
 ashen hue that had made them look so corpse-like. 
 They gazed at one another, and fancied that some 
 magic power had really begun to smooth away the 
 deep and sad inscriptions which Father Time had been 
 so long engraving on their brows. The Widow Wych- 
 erly adjusted her cap, for she felt almost like a woman 
 again. 
 
 " Give us more of this wondrous water ! " cried 
 they, eagerly. " We are younger but we are still 
 too old ! Quick give us more ! " 
 
 " Patience, patience ! " quoth Dr. Heidegger, who 
 sat watching the experiment with philosophic cool 
 ness. " You have been a long timo growing old. 
 Surely, you might be content to grow young in half 
 an hour ! But the water is at your service." 
 
 Again he filled their glasses with the liquor oj 
 
DR. HEIDEGGER S EXPERIMENT. 265 
 
 youth, enough of which still remained in the vase to 
 turn half the old people in the city to the age of 
 their own grandchildren. While the bubbles were 
 yet sparkling on the brim, the doctor s four guests 
 snatched their glasses from the table, and swallowed 
 the contents at a single gulp. Was it delusion ? even 
 while the draught was passing down their throats, it 
 seemed to have wrought a change on their whole sys 
 tems. Their eyes grew clear and bright ; a dark 
 shade deepened among their silvery locks, they sat 
 around the table, three gentlemen of middle age, and 
 a woman, hardly beyond her buxom prime. 
 
 " My dear widow, you are charming ! * cried Colonel 
 Killigrew, whose eyes had been fixed upon her face, 
 while the shadows of age were flitting from it like 
 darkness from the crimson daybreak. 
 
 The fair widow knew, of old, that Colonel Killi- 
 grew s compliments were not always measured by 
 sober truth ; so she started up and ran to the mirror, 
 still dreading that the ugly visage of an old woman 
 woidd meet her gaze. Meanwhile, the three gentle 
 men behaved in such a manner as proved that the 
 water of the Fountain of Youth possessed some intoxi 
 cating qualities ; unless, indeed, their exhilaration of 
 spirits were merely a lightsome dizziness caused by 
 the sudden removal of the weight of years. Mr. Gas- 
 coigne s mind seemed to run on political topics, but 
 whether relating to the past, present, or future, could 
 not easily be determined, since the same ideas and 
 phrases have been in vogue these fifty years. Now he 
 rattled forth full-throated sentences about patriotism, 
 national glory, and the people s right ; now he mut 
 tered some perilous stun or other, in a sly and doubt 
 ful whisper, so cautiously that even his own conscience 
 
266 TWICE-TOLD TALES. 
 
 could scarcely catch, the secret ; and now, again, he 
 spoke in measured accents, and a deeply deferential 
 tone, as if a royal ear were listening to his well-turned 
 periods. Colonel Killigrew all this time had been 
 trolling forth a jolly bottle song, and ringing his glass 
 in symphony with the chorus, while his eyes wandered 
 toward the buxom figure of the Widow Wycherly* 
 On the other side of the table, Mr. Medbourne was 
 involved in a calculation of dollars and cents, with 
 which was strangely intermingled a project for sup 
 plying the East Indies with ice, by harnessing a team 
 of whales to the polar icebergs. 
 
 As for the Widow Wycherly, she stood before the 
 mirror courtesying and simpering to her own image, 
 and greeting it as the friend whom she loved better 
 than all the world beside. She thrust her face close 
 to the glass, to see whether some long-remembered 
 wrinkle or crow s foot had indeed vanished. She ex 
 amined whether the snow had so entirely melted from 
 her hair that the venerable cap could be safely thrown 
 aside. At last, turning briskly away, she came with a 
 sort of dancing step to the table. 
 
 " My dear old doctor," cried she, " pray favor me 
 with another glass ! " 
 
 " Certainly, my dear madam, certainly ! " replied 
 the complaisant doctor ; " see ! I have already filled 
 the glasses." 
 
 There, in fact, stood the four glasses, brimful of this 
 wonderful water, the delicate spray of which, as it 
 effervesced from the surface, resembled the tremulous 
 glitter of diamonds. It was now so nearly sunset 
 that the chamber had grown duskier than ever ; but 
 a mild and moonlike splendor gleamed from witjiin 
 the vase, and rested alike on the four guests and OB 
 
DR. HEIDEGGER S EXPERIMENT. 267 
 
 the doctor s venerable figure. He sat in a high- 
 backed, elaborately-carved, oaken arm-chair, with a 
 gray dignity of aspect that might have well befitted 
 that very Father Time, whose power had never been 
 disputed, save by this fortunate company. Even 
 while quaffing the third draught of the Fountain of 
 Youth, they were almost awed by the expression of 
 his mysterious visage. 
 
 But, the next moment, the exhilarating gush of 
 young life shot through their veins. They were 
 now in the happy prime of youth. Age, with its 
 miserable train of cares and sorrows and diseases, 
 was remembered only as the trouble of a dream, from 
 which they had joyously awoke. The fresh gloss of 
 the soul, so early lost, and without which the world s 
 successive scenes had been but a gallery of faded pict 
 ures, again threw its enchantment over all their pros 
 pects. They felt like new-created beings in a new- 
 created universe. 
 
 " We are young ! We are young ! " they cried 
 exultingly. 
 
 Youth, like the extremity of age, had effaced the 
 strongly-marked characteristics of middle life, and 
 mutually assimilated them all. They were a group 
 of merry youngsters, almost maddened with the ex 
 uberant frolicsomeness of their years. The most sin 
 gular effect of their gayety was an impulse to mock 
 the infirmity and decrepitude of which they had so 
 lately been the victims. They laughed loudly at their 
 old-fashioned attire, the wide-skirted coats and flapped 
 waistcoats of the young men, and the ancient cap and 
 gown of the blooming girl. One limped across the 
 floor like a gouty grandfather : one set a pair of spec 
 tacles astride of his nose, and pretended to pore over 
 
268 TWICE-TOLD TALES. 
 
 the black-letter pages of the book of magic ; a third 
 seated himself in an arm-chair, and strove to imitate 
 the venerable dignity of Dr. Heidegger. Then all 
 shouted mirthfully, and leaped about the room. The 
 Widow Wycherly if so fresh a damsel could be 
 called a widow tripped up to the docter s chair, 
 with a mischievous merriment in her rosy face. 
 
 " Doctor, you dear old soul," cried she, " get up and 
 dance with me ! " And then the four young people 
 laughed louder than ever, to think what a queer figure 
 the poor old doctor would cut. 
 
 " Pray excuse me," answered the doctor quietly. 
 "I am old and rheumatic, and my dancing days 
 were over long ago. But either of these gay 
 young gentlemen will be glad of so pretty a part 
 ner." 
 
 " Dance with me, Clara ! " cried Colonel Killigrew. 
 
 " No, no, I will be her partner ! " shouted Mr. 
 Gascoigne. 
 
 " She promised me her hand, fifty years ago ! " 
 exclaimed Mr. Medbourne. 
 
 They all gathered round her. One caught both 
 her hands in his passionate grasp another threw 
 his arm about her waist the third buried his hand 
 among the glossy curls that clustered beneath the 
 widow s cap. Blushing, panting, struggling, chiding, 
 laughing, her warm breath fanning each of their 
 faces by turns, she strove to disengage herself, yet 
 still remained in their triple embrace. Never was 
 there a livelier picture of youthful rivalship, with 
 bewitching beauty for the prize. Yet, by a strange 
 deception, owing to the duskiness of the chamber, 
 and the antique dresses which they still wore, tjie 
 tall mirror is said to have reflected the figures of 
 
DR. HEIDEGGER S EXPERIMENT. 269 
 
 the three old, gray, withered grandsires, ridiculously 
 contending for the skinny ugliness of a shrivelled 
 grandam. 
 
 But they were young: their burning passions 
 proved them so. Inflamed to madness by the co 
 quetry of the girl-widow, who neither granted nor 
 quite withheld her favors, the three rivals began to 
 interchange threatening glances. Still keeping hold 
 of the fair prize, they grappled fiercely at one an 
 other s throats. As they struggled to and fro, the 
 table was overturned, and the vase dashed into a thou 
 sand fragments. The precious AVater of Youth flowed 
 in a bright stream across the floor, moistening the 
 wings of a butterfly, which, grown old in the decline 
 of summer, had alighted there to die. The insect flut 
 tered lightly through the chamber, and settled on the 
 snowy head of Dr. Heidegger. 
 
 " Come, come, gentlemen ! come, Madam Wych- 
 erly," exclaimed the doctor, 4u I really must protest 
 against this riot." 
 
 They stood still and shivered; for it seemed as if 
 gray Time were calling them back from their sunny 
 youth, far down into the chill and darksome vale of 
 years. They looked at old Dr. Heidegger, who sat in 
 his carved arm-chair, holding the rose of half a cent 
 ury, which he had rescued from among the fragments 
 of the shattered vase. At the motion of his hand, the 
 four rioters resinned their seats ; the more readily, be 
 cause their violent exertions had wearied them, youth- 
 fid though they were. 
 
 " My poor Sylvia s rose ! " ejaculated Dr. Heideg 
 ger, holding it in the light of the sunset clouds ; " it 
 appears to be fading again." 
 
 And so it was. Even while the party were looking 
 
270 TWICE-TOLD TALES. 
 
 at it, the flower continued to shrivel up, till it became 
 as dry and fragile as when the doctor had first thrown 
 it into the vase. He shook off the few drops of moist 
 ure which clung to its petals. 
 
 " 1 love it as well thus as in its dewy freshness," 
 observed he, pressing the withered rose to his with 
 ered lips. While he spoke, the butterfly fluttered 
 down from the doctor s snowy head, and fell upon the 
 floor. 
 
 His guests shivered again. A strange chillness, 
 whether of the body or spirit they could not tell, was 
 creeping gradually over them all. They gazed at 
 one another, and fancied that each fleeting moment 
 snatched away a charm, and left a deepening furrow 
 where none had been before. Was it an illusion? 
 Had the changes of a lifetime been crowded into so 
 brief a space, and were they now four aged people, 
 sitting with their old friend, Dr. Heidegger ? 
 
 "Are we grown old again, so soon?" cried they, 
 dolefully. 
 
 In truth they had. The Water of Youth possessed 
 merely a virtue more transient than that of wine. The 
 delirium which it created had effervesced away. Yes ! 
 they were old again. With a shuddering impulse, 
 that showed her a woman still, the widow clasped her 
 skinny hands before her face, and wished that the 
 coffin lid were over it, since it could be no longer 
 beautiful. 
 
 " Yes, friends, ye are old again," said Dr. Heideg 
 ger, " and lo ! the Water of Youth is all lavished 011 
 the ground. Well I bemoan it not; for if the fount 
 ain gushed at my very doorstep, I would not stoop to 
 bathe my lips in it no, though its delirium were for 
 years instead of moments. Such is the lesson ye have 
 taught me ! " 
 
DR. HEIDEGGER S EXPERIMENT. 271 
 
 But the doctor s four friends had taught no such 
 lesson to themselves. They resolved forthwith to 
 make a pilgrimage to Florida, and quaff at morning, 
 noon, and night, from the Fountain of Youth. 
 
 NOTE. In an English review, not long since, I have been accused 
 of plagiarizing the idea of this story from a chapter in one of the nov 
 els of Alexanure Dumas. There has undoubtedly been a plagiarism 
 on one side or the other; but as my story was written a good deal 
 more than twenty years ago, and as the novel is of considerablv more 
 recent date, I take pleasure in thinking that M. Dumas has done me 
 the honor to appropriate one of the fanciful conceptions of my earlier 
 days. He is heartily welcome to it ; nor is it the only instance, by 
 many, in which the great French romancer has exercised the privi 
 lege of commanding genius by confiscating the intellectual property 
 of less famous people to his own use and behoof. 
 
 September, 1860. 
 
LEGENDS OF THE PROVINCE HOUSE. 
 
 I. 
 HOWE S MASQUERADE. 
 
 ONE afternoon, last summer, while walking along 
 Washington Street, my eye was attracted by a sign- 
 board protruding over a narrow archway, nearly oppo 
 site the Old South Church. The sign represented the 
 front of a stately edifice, which was designated as the 
 " OLD PROVINCE HOUSE, kept by Thomas Waite." 
 I was glad to be thus reminded of a purpose, long en 
 tertained, of visiting and rambling over the mansion 
 of the old royal governors of Massachusetts ; and en 
 tering the arched passage, which penetrated through 
 the middle of a brick row of shops, a few steps trans 
 ported me from the busy heart of modern Boston 
 into a small and secluded court-yard. One side of 
 this space was occupied by the square front of the 
 Province House, three stories high, and surmounted 
 by a cupola, on the top of which a gilded Indian was 
 discernible, with his bow bent and his arrow on the 
 string, as if aiming at the weathercock on the spire 
 of the Old South. The figure has kept this attitude 
 for seventy years or more, ever since good Deacon 
 Drowne, a cunning carver of wood, first stationed him 
 on his long sentinel s watch over the city. 
 
 The Province House is constructed of brick, which 
 seems recently to have been overlaid with a coat of 
 light-colored paint. A flight of red freestone steps, 
 
HOWE S MASQUERADE. 273 
 
 fenced in by a balustrade of curiously wrought iron, 
 ascends from the court-yard to the spacious porch, 
 over which is a balcony, with an iron balustrade of 
 similar pattern and workmanship to that beneath. 
 These letters and figures 16 P. S. 79 are wrought 
 into the iron work of the balcony, and probably ex 
 press the date of the edifice, with the initials of its 
 founder s name. A wide door with double leaves ad 
 mitted me into the hall or entry, on the right of which 
 is the entrance to the bar-room. 
 
 It was in this apartment, I presume, that the an 
 cient governors held their levees, with vice-regal pomp, 
 surrounded by the military men, the councillors, the 
 judges, and other officers of the crown, while all the 
 loyalty of the province thronged to do them honor. 
 But the room, in its present condition, cannot boast 
 even of faded magnificence. The panelled wainscot 
 is covered with dingy paint, and acquires a duskier 
 hue from the deep shadow into which the Province 
 House is thrown by the brick block that shuts it in 
 from Washington Street. A ray of sunshine never 
 visits this apartment any more than the glare of the 
 festal torches, which have been extinguished from the 
 era of the Revolution. The most venerable and orna 
 mental object is a chimney-piece set round with Dutch 
 tiles of blue-figured China, representing scenes from 
 Scripture ; and, for aught I know, the lady of Pownall 
 or Bernard may have sat beside this fire-place, and 
 told her children the story of each blue tile. A bar 
 in modern style, well replenished with decanters, bot 
 tles, cigar boxes, and net-work bags of lemons, and 
 provided with a beer pump and a soda fount, extends 
 along one side of the room. At my entrance, an eld 
 erly person was smacking his lips with a zest which 
 
 YOU L 18 
 
274 TWICE-TOLD TALES. 
 
 satisfied me that the cellars of the Province House 
 still hold good liquor, though doubtless of other vint 
 ages than were quaffed by the old governors. After 
 sipping a glass of port sangaree, prepared by the skil 
 ful hands of Mr. Thomas Waite, I besought that wor 
 thy successor and representative of so many historic 
 personages to conduct me over their time honored 
 mansion. 
 
 Pie readily complied; but, to confess the truth, I 
 was forced to draw strenuously upon my imagination, 
 in order to find aught that was interesting in a house 
 which, without its historic associations, would have 
 seemed merely such a tavern as is usually favored by 
 the custom of decent city boarders, and old-fashioned 
 country gentlemen. The chambers, which were prob 
 ably spacious in former times, are now cut up by 
 partitions, and subdivided into little nooks, each af 
 fording scanty room for the narrow bed and chair 
 and dressing-table of a single lodger. The great 
 staircase, however, may be termed, without much 
 hyperbole, a feature of grandeur and magnificence. 
 It winds through the midst of the house by flights of 
 broad steps, each flight terminating in a square land 
 ing-place, whence the ascent is continued towards the 
 cupola. A carved balustrade, freshly painted in the 
 lower stories, but growing dingier as we ascend, bor 
 ders the staircase with its quaintly twisted and inter 
 twined pillars, from top to bottom. Up these stairs the 
 military boots, or perchance the gouty shoes, of many 
 a governor have trodden, as the wearers mounted to 
 the cupola, which afforded them so wide a view over 
 their metropolis and the surrounding country. The 
 cupola is an octagon, with several windows, and a d9Oi 
 opening upon the roof. From this station, as I pleased 
 
HOWE S MASQUERADE. 275 
 
 myself with imagining, Gage may have beheld his dis 
 astrous victory on Bunker Hill (unless one of the tri- 
 mountains intervened), and Howe have marked the 
 approaches of Washington s besieging army ; although 
 the buildings since erected in the vicinity have shut 
 out almost every object, save the steeple of the Old 
 South, which seems almost within arm s length. De 
 scending from the cupola, I paused in the garret to 
 observe the ponderous white-oak framework, so much 
 more massive than the frames of modern houses, and 
 thereby resembling an antique skeleton. The brick 
 walls, the materials of which were imported from 
 Holland, and the timbers of the mansion, are still as 
 sound as ever ; but the floors and other interior parts 
 being greatly decayed, it is contemplated to gut the 
 whole, and build a new house within the ancient frame 
 and brick work. Among other inconveniences of the 
 present edifice, mine host mentioned that any jar or 
 motion was apt to shake down the dust of ages out of 
 the ceiling of one chamber upon the floor of that be 
 neath it. 
 
 We stepped forth from the great front window into 
 the balcony, where, in old times, it was doubtless the 
 custom of the king s representative to show himself to 
 a loyal populace, requiting their huzzas and tossed-up 
 hats with stately bendings of his dignified person. In 
 those days the front of the Province House looked 
 upon the street ; and the whole site now occupied by 
 the brick range of stores, as well as the present court 
 yard, was laid out in grass plats, overshadowed by 
 trees and bordered by a wrought-iron fence. Now, 
 the old aristocratic edifice hides its time-worn visage 
 behind an upstart modern building ; at one of the back 
 windows I observed some pretty tailoresses, sewing 
 
276 TWICE-TOLD TALES. 
 
 and chatting and laughing, with now and then a care 
 less glance towards the balcony. Descending thence, 
 we again entered the bar-room, where the elderly gen 
 tleman above mentioned, the smack of whose lips had 
 spoken so favorably for Mr. Waite s good liquor, was 
 still lounging in his chair. He seemed to be, if not a 
 lodger, at least a familiar visitor of the house, who 
 might be supposed to have his regular score at the bar, 
 his summer seat at the open window, and his prescrip 
 tive corner at the winter s fireside. Being of a socia 
 ble aspect, I ventured to address him with a remark 
 calculated to draw forth his historical reminiscences, 
 if any such were in his mind ; and it gratified me to 
 discover, that, between memory and tradition, the old 
 gentleman was really possessed of some very pleasant 
 gossip about the Province House. The portion of his 
 talk which chiefly interested me was the outline of the 
 following legend. He professed to have received it at 
 one or two removes from an eye-witness ; but this de 
 rivation, together with the lapse of time, must have 
 afforded opportunities for many variations of the nar 
 rative ; so that despairing of literal and absolute truth, 
 I have not scrupled to make such further changes as 
 seemed conducive to the reader s profit and delight. 
 
 At one of the entertainments given at the Province 
 House, during the latter part of the siege of Boston, 
 there passed a scene which has never yet been satis 
 factorily explained. The officers of the British army, 
 and the loyal gentry of the province, most of whom 
 were collected within the beleaguered town, had been 
 invited to a masked ball ; for it was the policy of* Sir 
 William Howe to hide the distress and danger of the 
 
HOWE S MASQUERADE. 277 
 
 period, and the desperate aspect of the siege, under 
 an ostentation of festivity. The spectacle of this even 
 ing, if the oldest members of the provincial court cir 
 cle might be believed, was the most gay and gorgeous 
 affair that had occurred in the annals of the gov 
 ernment. The brilliantly-lighted apartments were 
 thronged with figures that seemed to have stepped 
 from the dark canvas of historic portraits, or to have 
 flitted forth from the magic pages of romance, or at 
 least to have flown hither from one of the London 
 theatres, without a change of garments. Steeled 
 knights of the Conquest, bearded statesmen of Queen 
 Elizabeth, and high-ruffled ladies of her court, were 
 mingled with characters of comedy, such as a party- 
 colored Merry Andrew, jingling his cap and bells ; a 
 Falstaff, almost as provocative of laughter as his pro 
 totype ; and a Don Quixote, with a bean pole for a 
 lance, and a pot lid for a shield. 
 
 But the broadest merriment was excited by a group 
 of figures ridiculously dressed in old regimentals, 
 which seemed to have been purchased at a military 
 rag fair, or pilfered from some receptacle of the cast- 
 off clothes of both the French and British armies. 
 Portions of their attire had probably been worn at the 
 siege of Louisburg, and the coats of most recent cut 
 might have been rent and tattered by sword, ball, or 
 bayonet, as long ago as Wolfe s victory. One of 
 these worthies a tall, lank figure, brandishing a 
 rusty sword of immense longitude purported to be 
 no less a personage than General George Washing 
 ton ; and the other principal officers of the American 
 army, such as Gates, Lee, Putnam, Schuyler, Ward 
 and Heath, were represented by similar scarecrows. 
 An interview in the mock heroic style, between the 
 
278 TWICE-TOLD TALES. 
 
 rebel warriors and the British commander-in-chief, 
 was received with immense applause, which came 
 loudest of all from the loyalists of the colony. There 
 was one of the guests, however, who stood apart, eye 
 ing these antics sternly and scornfully, at once with a 
 frown and a bitter smile. 
 
 It was an old man, formerly of high station and 
 great repute in the province, and who had been a very 
 famous soldier in his day. Some surprise had been 
 expressed that a person of Colonel Joliffe s known 
 whig principles, though now too old to take an active 
 part in the contest, should have remained in Boston 
 during the siege, and especially that he should consent 
 to show himself in the mansion of Sir William Howe. 
 But thither he had come, with a fair granddaughter 
 under his arm ; and there, amid all the mirth and 
 buffoonery, stood this stern old figure, the best sus 
 tained character in the masquerade, because so well 
 representing the antique spirit of his native land. 
 The other guests affirmed that Colonel Joliffe s black 
 puritanical scowl threw a shadow round about him ; 
 although in spite of his sombre influence their gayety 
 continued to blaze higher, like (an ominous com 
 parison) the flickering brilliancy of a lamp which 
 has but a little while to burn. Eleven strokes, full 
 half an hour ago, had pealed from the clock of the 
 Old South, when a rumor was circulated among the 
 company that some new spectacle or pageant was 
 about to be exhibited, which should put a fitting close 
 to the splendid festivities of the night. 
 
 " What new jest has your Excellency in hand ? " 
 asked the Rev. Mather Byles, whose Presbyterian 
 scruples had not kept him from the entertainment 
 w Trust me, sir, I have already laughed more than 
 
HOWE S MASQUERADE. 279 
 
 beseems my cloth at your Homeric confabulation with 
 yonder ragamuffin General of the rebels. One other 
 such fit of merriment, and I must throw off my cler 
 ical wig and band." 
 
 " Not so, good Doctor Byles," answered Sir Wil 
 liam Howe ; " if mirth were a crime, you had never 
 gained your doctorate in divinity. As to this new 
 foolery, I know no more about it than yourself ; per 
 haps not so much. Honestly now, Doctor, have you 
 not stirred up the sober brains of some of your coun 
 trymen to enact a scene in our masquerade ? " 
 
 " Perhaps," slyly remarked the granddaughter of 
 Colonel Joliffe, whose high spirit had been stung by 
 many taunts against New England, " perhaps we 
 are to have a mask of allegorical figures. Victory, 
 with trophies from Lexington and Bunker Hill 
 Plenty, with her overflowing horn, to typify the pres 
 ent abundance in this good town and Glory, with a 
 wreath for his Excellency s brow." 
 
 Sir William Howe smiled at words which he would 
 have answered with one of his darkest frowns had 
 they been uttered by lips that wore a beard. He was 
 spared the necessity of a retort, by a singular inter 
 ruption. A sound of music was heard without the 
 house, as if proceeding from a full band of military 
 instruments stationed in the street, playing not such a 
 festal strain as was suited to the occasion, but a slow 
 funeral march. The drums appeared to be muffled, 
 and the trumpets poured forth a wailing breath, which 
 at once hushed the merriment of the auditors, filling 
 all with wonder, and some with apprehension. The 
 idea occurred to many that either the funeral proces 
 sion of some great personage had halted in front of 
 the Province House, or that a corpse, in a velvet- 
 
280 TWICE-TOLD TALES. 
 
 covered and gorgeously-decorated coffin, was about to 
 be borne from the portal. After listening a moment, 
 Sir William Howe called, in a stern voice, to the 
 leader of the musicians, who had hitherto enlivened 
 the entertainment with gay and lightsome melodies. 
 The man was drum-major to one of the British regi 
 ments. 
 
 " Dighton," demanded the general, " what meana 
 this foolery ? Bid your band silence that dead march 
 or, by my word, they shall have sufficient cause for 
 their lugubrious strains ! Silence it, sirrah ! " 
 
 "Please your honor," answered the drum-major, 
 whose rubicund visage had lost all its color, " the fault 
 is none of mine. I and my band are all here together, 
 and I question whether there be a man of us that could 
 play that march without book. I never heard it but 
 once before, and that was at the funeral of his late 
 Majesty, King George the Second." 
 
 " Well, well ! " said Sir William Howe, recovering 
 his composure " it is the prelude to some masquer 
 ading antic. Let it pass." 
 
 A figure now presented itself, but among the many 
 fantastic masks that were dispersed through the apart 
 ments none could tell precisely from whence it came. 
 It was a man in an old-fashioned dress of black serge, 
 and having the aspect of a steward or principal do 
 mestic in the household of a nobleman or great Eng 
 lish landholder. This figure advanced to the outer 
 door of the mansion, and throwing both its leaves 
 wide open, withdrew a little to one side and looked 
 back towards the grand staircase as if expecting some 
 person to descend. At the same time the music in 
 the street sounded a loud and doleful summons. The 
 eyes of Sir William Howe and his guests being di 
 
HOWE S MASQUERADE. 281 
 
 rected to the staircase, there appeared, on the upper 
 most landing-place that was discernible from the bot 
 tom, several personages descending towards the door. 
 The foremost was a man of stern visage, wearing a 
 steeple-crowned hat and a skull-cap beneath it ; a dark 
 cloak, and huge wrinkled boots that came half-way up 
 his legs. Under his arm was a rolled-up banner, 
 which seemed to be the banner of Eno land, but 
 
 O 
 
 strangely rent and torn ; he had a sword in his right 
 hand, and grasped a Bible in his left. The next figure 
 was of milder aspect, yet full of dignity, wearing a 
 broad ruff, over which descended a beard, a gown of 
 wrought velvet, and a doublet and hose of black satin. 
 He carried a roll of manuscript in his hand. Close 
 behind these two came a young man of very striking 
 countenance and demeanor, with deep thought and 
 contemplation on his brow, and perhaps a flash of en 
 thusiasm in his eye. His garb, like that of his prede 
 cessors, was of an antique fashion, and there was a 
 stain of blood upon his ruff. In the same group with 
 these were three or four others, all men of dignity and 
 evident command, and bearing themselves like person 
 ages who were accustomed to the gaze of the multitude. 
 It was the idea of the beholders that these figures 
 went to join the mysterious funeral that had halted in 
 front of the Province House ; yet that supposition 
 seemed to be contradicted by the air of triumph with 
 which they waved their hands, as they crossed the 
 threshold and vanished through the portal. 
 
 " In the devil s name what is this?" muttered Sir 
 William Howe to a gentleman beside him ; " a pro 
 fession of the regicide judges of King Charles the 
 martyr ? " 
 
 " These," said Colonel Joliffe, breaking silence al 
 
282 TWICE-TOLD TALES. 
 
 most for the first time that evening, " these, if I in 
 terpret them aright, are the Puritan governors the 
 rulers of the old original Democracy of Massachusetts. 
 Endicott, with the banner from which he had torn the 
 symbol of subjection, and Winthrop, and Sir Henry 
 Vane, and Dudley, Haynes, Bellingham, and Lev- 
 erett." 
 
 " Why had that young man a stain of blood upon 
 his ruff ? " asked Miss Joliffe. 
 
 " Because, in after years," answered her grand 
 father, "he laid down the wisest head in England 
 upon the block for the principles of liberty." 
 
 " Will not your Excellency order out the guard ?" 
 whispered Lord Percy, who, with other British officers, 
 had now assembled round the General. " There may 
 be a plot under this mummery." 
 
 " Tush ! we have nothing to fear," carelessly replied 
 Sir William Howe. " There can be no worse treason 
 in the matter than a jest, and that somewhat of the 
 dullest. Even were it a sharp and bitter one, our best 
 policy would be to laugh it off. See here come 
 more of these gentry." 
 
 Another group of characters had now partly de 
 scended the staircase. The first was a venerable and 
 white-bearded patriarch, who cautiously felt his way 
 downward with a staff. Treading hastily behind him, 
 and stretching forth his gauntleted hand as if to grasp 
 the old man s shoulder, came a tall, soldier-like figure, 
 equipped with a plumed cap of steel, a bright breast 
 plate, and a long sword, which rattled against the 
 stairs. Next was seen a stout man, dressed in rich 
 and courtly attire, but not of courtly demeanor ; hia 
 gait had the swinging motion of a seaman s walk; 
 and chancing to stumble on the staircase, he suddenly 
 
HOWE S MASQUERADE. 283 
 
 grew wrathful, and was heard to mutter an oath. He 
 was followed by a noble-looking personage in a curled 
 wig, such as are represented in the portraits of Queen 
 Anne s time and earlier ; and the breast of his coat 
 was decorated with an embroidered star. "While ad 
 vancing to the door, he bowed to the right hand and 
 to the left, in a very gracious and insinuating style ; 
 but as he crossed the threshold, unlike the early Puri 
 tan governors, he seemed to wring his hands with 
 sorrow. 
 
 "Prithee, play the part of a chorus, good Doctor 
 Byles," said Sir William Howe. " What worthies are 
 these?" 
 
 " If it please your Excellency they lived somewhat 
 before my day," answered the doctor ; " but doubtless 
 our friend, the Colonel, has been hand and glove with 
 them." 
 
 u Their living faces I never looked upon," said 
 Colonel Joliffe, gravely ; " although I have spoken 
 face to face with many rulers of this land, and shall 
 greet yet another with an old man s blessing ere I die. 
 But we talk of these figures. I take the venerable 
 patriarch to be Bradstreet, the last of the Puritans, 
 who was governor at ninety, or thereabouts. The next 
 is Sir Edmund Andros, a tyrant, as any New England 
 school-boy will tell you ; and therefore the people cast 
 him down from his high seat into a dungeon. Then 
 conies Sir William Phipps, shepherd, cooper, sea-cap 
 tain, and governor may many of his countrymen rise 
 as high from as low an origin ! Lastly, you saw the 
 gracious Earl of Bellamont, who rule d us under King 
 William." 
 
 " But what is the meaning of it all? " asked Lotd 
 Percy. 
 
284 TWICE-TOLD TALES. 
 
 "Now, were I a rebel," said Miss Joliffe, half 
 aloud, " I might fancy that the ghosts of these ancient 
 governors had been summoned to form the funeral 
 procession of royal authority in New England." 
 
 Several other figures were now seen at the turn of 
 the staircase. The one in advance had a thoughtful, 
 anxious, and somewhat crafty expression of face, and 
 in spite of his loftiness of manner, which was evidently 
 the result both of an ambitious spirit and of long con 
 tinuance in high stations, he seemed not incapable of 
 cringing to a greater than himself. A few steps be 
 hind came an officer in a scarlet and embroidered uni 
 form, cut in a fashion old enough to have been worn 
 by the Duke of Marlborough. His nose had a rubi 
 cund tinge, which, together with the twinkle of his 
 eye, might have marked him as a lover of the wine 
 cup and good fellowship ; notwithstanding which to 
 kens he appeared ill at ease, and often glanced around 
 him as if apprehensive of some secret mischief. Next 
 came a portly gentleman, wearing a coat of shaggy 
 cloth, lined with silken velvet ; he had sense, shrewd 
 ness, and humor in his face, and a folio volume under 
 his arm ; but his aspect was that of a man vexed and 
 tormented beyond all patience, and harassed almost 
 to death. He went hastily down, and was followed 
 by a dignified person, dressed in a purple velvet suit, 
 with very rich embroidery ; his demeanor would have 
 possessed much stateliness, only that a grievous fit of 
 the gout compelled him to hobble from stair to stair, 
 with contortions of face and body. When Dr. ByLs 
 beheld this figure on the staircase, he shivered as with 
 an ague, but continued to watch him steadfastly, untn 
 the gouty gentleman had reached the threshold, mada 
 a gesture of anguish and despair, and vanished into 
 
HOWE S MASQUERADE. 285 
 
 the outer gloom, whither the funeral music summoned 
 him. 
 
 " Governor Belcher ! my old patron ! in his 
 very shape and dress ! " gasped Doctor Byles. " This 
 is an awful mocker} 7 ! " 
 
 " A tedious foolery, rather," said Sir William Howe, 
 with an air of indifference. " But who were the three 
 that preceded him?" 
 
 " Governor Dudley, a cunning politician yet his 
 craft once brought him to a prison," replied Colonel 
 Joliffe. " Governor Shute, formerly a Colonel under 
 Marlborough, and whom the people frightened out of 
 the province; and learned Governor Bui-net, whom 
 the legislature tormented into a mortal fever." 
 
 "Methinks they were miserable men, these royal 
 governors of Massachusetts," observed Miss Joliffe. 
 " Heavens, how dim the light grows ! " 
 
 It was certainly a fact that the large lamp which 
 iUuminated the staircase now burned dim and dusk 
 ily : so that several figures, which passed hastily down 
 the stairs and went forth from the porch, appeared 
 rather like shadows than persons of fleshly substance. 
 Sir William Howe and his guests stood at the doors 
 of the contiguous apartments, watching the progress 
 of this singular pageant, with various emotions of 
 anger, contempt, or half-acknowledged fear, but still 
 with an anxious curiosity. The shapes which now 
 seemed hastening to join the mysterious procession 
 were recognized rather by striking peculiarities of 
 dress, or broad characteristics of manner, than by any 
 perceptible resemblance of features to their proto 
 types. Their faces, indeed, were invariably kept in 
 deep shadow. But Doctor Byles, and other gentle 
 men who had long been familiar with the successive 
 
286 TWICE-TOLD TALES. 
 
 rulers of the province, were heard to whisper the 
 names of Shirley, of Pownall, of Sir Francis Bernard, 
 and of the well-remembered Hutchinson ; thereby con 
 fessing that the actors, whoever they might be, in this 
 spectral march of governors, had succeeded in putting 
 on some distant portraiture of the real personages. 
 As they vanished from the door, still did these shad 
 ows toss their arms into the gloom of night, with a 
 dread expression of woe. Following the mimic repre 
 sentative of Hutchinson came a military figure, hold 
 ing before his face the cocked hat which he had taken 
 from his powdered head ; but his epaulettes and other 
 insignia of rank were those of a general officer, and 
 something in his mien reminded the beholders of one 
 who had recently been master of the Province House, 
 and chief of all the land. 
 
 " The shape of Gage, as true as in a looking-glass," 
 exclaimed Lord Percy, turning pale. 
 
 "No, surely, 9 cried Miss Joliffe, laughing hysteric 
 ally ; "it could not be Gage, or Sir William would 
 have greeted his old comrade in arms ! Perhaps he 
 will not suffer the next to pass unchallenged." 
 
 " Of that be assured, young lady," answered Sir 
 William Howe, fixing his eyes, with a very marked 
 expression, upon the immovable visage of her grand 
 father. " I have long enough delayed to pay the cere 
 monies of a host to these departing guests. The next 
 that takes his leave shall receive due courtesy." 
 
 A wild and dreary burst of music came through the 
 open door. It seemed as if the procession, which had 
 been gradually filling up its ranks, were now about to 
 move, and that this loud peal of the wailing trumpets, 
 and roll of the muffled drums, were a call to some 
 loiterer to make haste. Many eyes, by an irresistible 
 
HOWE S MASQUERADE. 287 
 
 Impulse, were turned upon Sir William Howe, as if 
 it were he whom the dreary music summoned to the 
 funeral of departed power. 
 
 " See ! here comes the last ! " whispered Miss 
 Joliffe, pointing her tremulous finger to the staircase. 
 
 A figure had come into view as if descending the 
 stairs ; although so dusky was the region whence it 
 emerged, some of the spectators fancied that they had 
 seen this human shape suddenly moidding itself amid 
 the gloom. Downward the figure came, with a stately 
 and martial tread, and reaching the lowest stair was 
 observed to be a tall man, booted and wrapped in a 
 military cloak, which was drawn up around the face 
 so as to meet the flapped brim of a laced hat. The 
 features, therefore, were completely hidden. But the 
 British officers deemed that they had seen that mili 
 tary cloak before, and even recognized the frayed em 
 broidery on the collar, as well as the gilded scabbard 
 of a sword which protruded from the folds of the 
 cloak, and glittered in a vivid gleam of light. Apart 
 from these trifling particulars, there were characteris 
 tics of gait and bearing which impelled the wondering 
 guests to glance from the shrouded figure to Sir Wil 
 liam Howe, as if to satisfy themselves that their host 
 had not suddenly vanished from the midst of them. 
 
 With a dark flush of wrath upon his brow they saw 
 the General draw Ms sword and advance to meet the 
 figure in the cloak before the latter had stepped one 
 pace upon the floor. 
 
 " Villain, unmuffle yourself ! cried he. " You pass 
 no farther ! " 
 
 The figure, without blenching a hair s breadth from 
 the sword which was pointed at his breast, made a 
 solemn pause and lowered the cape of the cloak from 
 
288 TWICE-TOLD TALES. 
 
 about his face, yet not sufficiently for the spectators 
 to catch a glimpse of it. But Sir William Howe had 
 evidently seen enough. The sternness of his counte 
 nance gave place to a look of wild amazement, if not 
 horror, while he recoiled several steps from the figure, 
 and let fall his sword upon the floor. The martial 
 shape again drew the cloak about his features and 
 passed on ; but reaching the threshold, with his back 
 towards the spectators, he was seen to stamp his foot 
 and shake his clinched hands in the air. It was after 
 wards affirmed that Sir William Howe had repeated 
 that selfsame gesture of rage and sorrow, when, for 
 the last time, and as the last royal governor, he passed 
 through the portal of the Province House. 
 
 " Hark ! the procession moves," said Miss Joliffe. 
 
 The music was dying away along the street, and its 
 dismal strains were mingled with the knell of mid 
 night from the steeple of the Old South, and with the 
 roar of artillery, which announced that the beleaguer 
 ing army of Washington had intrenched itself upon 
 a nearer height than before. As the deep boom of the 
 cannon smote upon his ear, Colonel Joliffe raised him 
 self to the full height of his aged form, and smiled 
 sternly on the British General. 
 
 " Would your Excellency inquire further into the 
 mystery of the pageant ? " said he. 
 
 " Take care of your gray head ! " cried Sir William 
 Howe, fiercely, though with a quivering lip. " It has 
 stood too long on a traitor s shoulders ! " 
 
 " You must make haste to chop it off, then," calmly 
 replied the Colonel ; " for a few hours longer, and not 
 all the power of Sir William Howe, nor of his master, 
 shall cause one of these gray hairs to fall. The em 
 pire of Britain in this ancient province is at its last 
 
HOWE S MASQUERADE. 289 
 
 gasp to-night ; almost while I speak it is a dead 
 corpse ; and methinks the shadows of the old gov 
 ernors are fit mourners at its funeral ! " 
 
 With these words Colonel Joliffe threw on his cloak, 
 and drawing his granddaughter s arm within his own, 
 retired from the last festival that a British ruler ever 
 held in the old province of Massachusetts Bay. It 
 was supposed that the Colonel and the young lady 
 possessed some secret intelligence in regard to the 
 mysterious pageant of that night. However this might 
 be, such knowledge has never become general. The 
 actors in the scene have vanished into deeper obscur 
 ity than even that wild Indian band who scattered the 
 cargoes of the tea ships on the waves, and gained a 
 place in history, yet left no names. But superstition, 
 among other legends of this mansion, repeats the won 
 drous tale, that on the anniversary night of Britain s 
 discomfiture the ghosts of the ancient governors of 
 Massachusetts still glide through the portal of the 
 Province House. And, last of all, comes a figure 
 shrouded in a military cloak, tossing his clinched 
 hands into the air, and stamping his iron-shod boots 
 upon the broad freestone steps, with a semblance of 
 feverish despair, but without the sound of a foot-tramp. 
 
 When the truth-telling accents of the elderly gentle 
 man were hushed, I drew a long breath and looked 
 round the room, striving, with the best energy of my 
 imagination, to throw a tinge of romance and historic 
 grandeur over the realities of the scene. But my 
 nostrils snuffed up a scent of cigar smoke, clouds of 
 which the narrator had emitted by way of visible em 
 blem, I suppose, of the nebulous obscurity of his tale. 
 
 VOL. I 19 
 
290 TWICE-TOLD TALES. 
 
 Moreover, my gorgeous fantasies were wofully dis 
 turbed by the rattling of the spoon in a tumbler of 
 whiskey punch, which Mr. Thomas Waite was min 
 gling for a customer. Nor did it add to the pictur 
 esque appearance of the panelled walls that the slate 
 of the Brookline stage was suspended against them, 
 instead of the armorial escutcheon of some far-de 
 scended governor. A stage-driver sat at one of the 
 windows, reading - a penny paper of the day the 
 Boston Times and presenting a figure which could 
 nowise be brought into any picture of " Times in Bos 
 ton " seventy or a hundred years ago. On the win 
 dow seat lay a bundle, neatly done up in brown paper, 
 the direction of which I had the idle curiosity to read. 
 44 Miss SUSAN HUGGINS, at the PROVINCE HOUSE." 
 A pretty chambermaid, no doubt. In truth, it is des 
 perately hard work, when we attempt to throw the 
 spell of hoar antiquity over localities with which the 
 living world, and the day that is passing over us, have 
 aught to do. Yet, as I glanced at the stately stair 
 case down which the procession of the old governors 
 had descended, and as I emerged through the vener 
 able portal whence their figures had preceded me, it 
 gladdened me to be conscious of a thrill of awe. 
 Then, diving through the narrow archway, a few- 
 strides transported me into the densest throng of 
 Washington Street. 
 
 
 
LEGENDS OF THE PROVINCE HOUSE. 
 
 n. 
 
 EDWARD RANDOLPH S PORTRAIT. 
 
 THE old legendary guest of the Province House 
 abode in my remembrance from midsummer till Janu 
 ary. One idle evening last winter, confident that he 
 would be found in the snuggest corner of the bar 
 room, I resolved to pay him another visit, hoping to 
 deserve well of my country by snatching from oblivion 
 some else unheard-of fact of history. The night was 
 chill and raw, and rendered boisterous by almost a 
 gale of wind, which whistled along Washington Street, 
 causing the gas-lights to flare and flicker within the 
 lamps. As I hurried onward, my fancy was busy with 
 a comparison between the present aspect of the street 
 and that which it probably wore when the British gov 
 ernors inhabited the mansion whither I was now going. 
 Brick edifices in those times were few, till a succession 
 of destructive fires had swept, and swept again, the 
 wooden dwellings and warehouses from the most pop 
 ulous quarters of the town. The buildings stood in 
 sidated and independent, not, as now, merging their 
 separate existences into connected ranges, with a front 
 of tiresome identity, but each possessing features of 
 its own, as if the owner s individual taste had shaped 
 it, and the whole presenting a picturesque irregular 
 ity, the absence of which is hardly compensated by any 
 beauties of our modern architecture. Such a scene. 
 
292 TWICE-TOLD TALES. 
 
 dimly vanishing from the eye by the ray of here and 
 there a tallow candle, glimmering through the small 
 panes of scattered windows, would form a sombre con 
 trast to the street as I beheld it, with the gas-lights 
 blazing from corner to corner, flaming within the shops, 
 and throwing a noonday brightness through the huge 
 plates of glass. 
 
 But the black, lowering sky, as I turned my eyes 
 upward, wore, doubtless, the same visage as when it 
 frowned upon the ante-revolutionary New Englanders. 
 The wintry blast had the same shriek that was familiar 
 to their ears. The Old South Church, too, still pointed 
 its antique spire into the darkness, and was lost be 
 tween earth and heaven ; and as I passed, its clock, 
 which had warned so many generations how transitory 
 was their lifetime, spoke heavily and slow the same 
 unregarded moral to myself. " Only seven o clock," 
 thought I. " My old friend s legends will scarcely 
 kill the hours twixt this and bedtime." 
 
 Passing through the narrow arch, I crossed the court 
 yard, the confined precincts of which were made visi 
 ble by a lantern over the portal of the Province House. 
 On entering the bar-room, I found, as I expected, the 
 old tradition monger seated by a special good fire of 
 anthracite, compelling clouds of smoke from a corpu 
 lent cigar. He recognized me with evident pleasure ; 
 for my rare properties as a patient listener invariably 
 make me a favorite with elderly gentlemen and ladies 
 of narrative propensities. Drawing a chair to the fire, 
 I desired mine host to favor us with a glass apiece of 
 whiskey punch, which was speedily prepared, steaming 
 hot, with a slice of lemon at the bottom, a dark-red 
 stratum of port wine upon the surface, and a sprjnk- 
 ling of nutmeg strewn over all. As we touched oui 
 
EDWARD RANDOLPH S PORTRAIT. 293 
 
 glasses together, my legendary friend made himself 
 known to me as Mr. Bela Tiffany ; and I rejoiced at 
 the oddity of the name, because it gave his image and 
 character a sort of individuality in my conception. 
 The old gentleman s draught acted as a solvent upon 
 his memory, so that it overflowed with tales, traditions, 
 anecdotes of famous dead people, and traits of ancient 
 manners, some of which were childish as a nurse s lul 
 laby, while others might have been worth the notice of 
 the grave historian. Nothing impressed me more than 
 a story of a black mysterious picture, which used to 
 hang in one of the chambers of the Province House, 
 directly above the room where we were now sitting. 
 The following is as correct a version of the fact as the 
 reader would be likely to obtain from any other source, 
 although, assuredly, it has a tinge of romance approach 
 ing to the marvellous. 
 
 In one of the apartments of the Province House 
 there was long preserved an ancient picture, the frame 
 of which was as black as ebony, and the canvas itself 
 so dark with age, damp, and smoke, that not a touch 
 of the painter s art could be discerned. Time had 
 thrown an impenetrable veil over it, and left to tradi 
 tion and fable and conjecture to say what had once 
 been there portrayed. During the ride of many suc 
 cessive governors, it had hung, by prescriptive and 
 undisputed right, over the mantel-piece of the same 
 chamber ; and it still kept its place when Lieutenant- 
 Governor Hutchinson assumed the administration of 
 the province, on the departure of Sir Francis Bernard. 
 
 The Lieutenant-Governor sat, one afternoon, resting 
 his head against the carved back of his stately arm- 
 
294 TWICE-TOLD TALES. 
 
 chair, and gazing up thoughtfully at the void blackness 
 of the picture. It was scarcely a time for such inactive 
 musing, when affairs of the deepest moment required 
 the ruler s decision ; for, within that very hour Hutch- 
 inson had received intelligence of the arrival of a 
 British fleet, bringing three regiments from Halifax 
 to overawe the insubordination of the people. These 
 troops awaited his permission to occupy the fortress of 
 Castle William, and the town itself. Yet, instead of 
 affixing his signature to an official order, there sat the 
 Lieutenant-Go vernor, so carefully scrutinizing the black 
 waste of canvas that his demeanor attracted the notice 
 of two young persons who attended him. One, wearing 
 a military dress of buff, was his kinsman, Francis Lin 
 coln, the Provincial Captain of Castle William ; the 
 other, who sat on a low stool beside his chair, was 
 Alice Yane, his favorite niece. 
 
 She was clad entirely in white, a pale, ethereal 
 creature, who, though a native of New England, had 
 been educated abroad, and seemed not merely a stranger 
 from another clime, but almost a being from another 
 world. For several years, until left an orphan, she had 
 dwelt with her father in sunny Italy, and there had ac 
 quired a taste and enthusiasm for sculpture and paint 
 ing which she found few opportunities of gratifying 
 in the undecorated dwellings of the colonial gentry. 
 It was said that the early productions of her own pen 
 cil exhibited no inferior genius, though, perhaps, the 
 rude atmosphere of New England had cramped her 
 hand, and dimmed the glowing colors of her fancy. 
 But observing her uncle s steadfast gaze, which ap 
 peared to search through the mist of years to discover 
 the subject of the picture, her curiosity was excited. 
 
 " Is it known, my dear uncle," inquired she, " what 
 
EDWARD RANDOLPH S PORTRAIT. 295 
 
 this old picture once represented ? Possibly, could it 
 be ,made visible, it might prove a masterpiece of some 
 great artist else, why has it so long held such a con 
 spicuous place ? " 
 
 As her uncle, contrary to his usual custom (for he 
 was as attentive to all the humors and caprices of 
 Alice as if she had been his own best-beloved child), 
 did not immediately reply, the young Captain of Cas 
 tle AVilliam took that office upon himself. 
 
 " This dark old square of canvas, my fair cousin," 
 said he, " has been an heirloom in the Province House 
 from time immemorial. As to the painter, I can tell 
 you nothing ; but, if half the stories told of it be true, 
 not one of the great Italian masters has ever produced 
 so marvellous a piece of work as that before you. 
 
 Captain Lincoln proceeded to relate some of the 
 strange fables and fantasies which, as it was impossi 
 ble to refute them by ocular demonstration, had grown 
 to be articles of popular belief, in reference to this 
 old picture. One of the wildest, and at the same time 
 the best accredited, accounts, stated it to be an origi 
 nal and authentic portrait of the Evil One, taken at a 
 witch meeting near Salem ; and that its strong and 
 terrible resemblance had been confirmed by several of 
 the confessing wizards and witches, at their trial, in 
 open court. It was likewise affirmed that a familiar 
 spirit or demon abode behind the blackness of the 
 picture, and had shown himself, at seasons of public 
 calamity, to more than one of the royal governors. 
 Shirley, for instance, had beheld this ominous appari 
 tion, on the eve of General Abercrombie s shameful 
 and bloody defeat under the walls of Ticonderoga. 
 Many of the servants of the Province House had 
 caught glimpses of a visage frcwning down upon them. 
 
296 TWICE-TOLD TALES. 
 
 at morning or evening twilight, or in the depths of 
 night, while raking up the fire that glimmered on the 
 hearth beneath ; although, if any were bold enough to 
 hold a torch before the picture, it would appear as 
 black and undistinguishable as ever. The oldest in 
 habitant of Boston recollected that his father, in whose 
 days the portrait nad not wholly faded out of sight, 
 had once looked upon it, but would never suffer him 
 self to be questioned as to the face which was there 
 represented. In connection with such stories, it was 
 remarkable that over the top of the frame there were 
 some ragged remnants of black silk, indicating that a 
 veil had formerly hung down before the picture, until 
 the duskiness of time had so effectually concealed it. 
 But, after all, it was the most singular part of the 
 affair that so many of the pompous governors of Mas 
 sachusetts had allowed the obliterated picture to re 
 main in the state chamber of the Province House. 
 
 " Some of these fables are really awful," observed 
 Alice Vane, who had occasionally shuddered, as well 
 as smiled, while her cousin spoke. " It would be al 
 most worth while to wipe away the black surface of 
 the canvas, since the original picture can hardly be so 
 formidable as those which fancy paints instead of it." 
 
 " But would it be possible," inquired her cousin, 
 " to restore this dark picture to its pristine hues? " 
 
 " Such arts are known in Italy," said Alice. 
 
 The Lieutenant-Governor had roused himself from 
 his abstracted mood, and listened with a smile to the 
 conversation of his young relatives. Yet his voice 
 had something peculiar in its tones when he under 
 took the explanation of the mystery. 
 
 "I am sorry, Alice, to destroy your faith in the 
 legends of which you are so fond," remarked he ; " but 
 
EDWARD RANDOLPH S PORTRAIT. 297 
 
 my antiquarian researches have long since made me 
 acquainted with the subject of this picture if picture 
 it can be called which is no more visible, nor ever 
 will be, than the face of the long buried man whom 
 it once represented. It was the portrait of Edward 
 Randolph, the founder of this house, a person famous 
 in the history of New England." 
 
 u Of that Edward Randolph," exclaimed Captain 
 Lincoln, " who obtained the repeal of the first pro 
 vincial charter, under which our forefathers had en- 
 joved almost democratic privileges ! He that was 
 styled the arch-enemy of New England, and whose 
 memory is still held in detestation as the destroyer of 
 our liberties ! " 
 
 "It was the same Randolph," answered Hutchin- 
 son, moving uneasily in his chair. " It was his lot to 
 taste the bitterness of popular odium." 
 
 " Our annals tell us," continued the Captain of 
 Castle William, " that the curse of the people fol 
 lowed this Randolph where he went, and wrought evil 
 in all the subsequent events of his life, and that its 
 effect was seen likewise in the manner of his death. 
 They say, too, that the inward misery of that curse 
 worked itself outward, and was visible on the wretched 
 man s countenance, making it too horrible to be looked 
 upon. If so, and if this picture truly represented his 
 aspect, it w r as in mercy that the cloud of blackness 
 has gathered over it." 
 
 " These traditions are folly to one who has proved, 
 as I have, how little of historic truth lies at the bot 
 tom," said the Lieutenant-Governor. " As regards 
 the life and character of Edward Randolph, too im 
 plicit credence has been given to Dr. Cotton Mather, 
 who I must say it, though some of his blood runs 
 
298 TWICE-TOLD TALES. 
 
 in my veins has filled our early history with old 
 women s tales, as fanciful and extravagant as those of 
 Greece or Rome." 
 
 " And yet," whispered Alice Yane, " may not such 
 fables have a moral? And, methinks, if the visage 
 of this portrait be so dreadful, it is not without a 
 cause that it has hung so long in a chamber of the 
 Province House. When the rulers feel themselves 
 irresponsible, it were well that they should be re 
 minded of the awful weight of a people s curse." 
 
 The Lieutenant-Governor started, and gazed for a 
 moment at his niece, as if her girlish fantasies had 
 struck upon some feeling in his own breast, which all 
 his policy or principles could not entirely subdue. 
 He knew, indeed, that Alice, in spite of her foreign 
 education, retained the native sympathies of a New 
 England girl. 
 
 " Peace, silly child," cried he, at last, more harshly 
 than he had ever before addressed the gentle Alice. 
 " The rebuke of a king is more to be dreaded than 
 the clamor of a wild, misguided multitude. Captain 
 Lincoln, it is decided. The fortress of Castle Wil 
 liam must be occupied by the royal troops. The two 
 remaining regiments shall be billeted in the town, or 
 encamped upon the Common. It is time, after years 
 of tumult, and almost rebellion, that his majesty s gov 
 ernment should have a wall of strength about it." 
 
 " Trust, sir trust yet awhile to the loyalty of the 
 people," said Captain Lincoln ; " nor teach them that 
 they can ever be on other terms with British soldiers 
 than those of brotherhood, as when they fought side 
 by side through the French War. Do not convert the 
 streets of your native town into a camp. Think twice 
 before you give up old Castle William, the key oi 
 
EDWARD RANDOLPH S PORTRAIT. 299 
 
 the province, into other keeping than that of true-born 
 New Englanders." 
 
 " Young man, it is decided," repeated Hutchinson, 
 rising from his chair. " A British officer will be in 
 attendance this evening, to receive the necessary in 
 structions for the disposal of the troops. Your pres 
 ence also will be required. Till then, farewell." 
 
 With these words the Lieutenant-Go vernor hastily 
 left the room, while Alice and her cousin more slowly 
 followed, whispering together, and once pausing to 
 glance back at the mysterious picture. The Captain 
 of Castle William fancied that the girl s air and mien 
 were such as might have belonged to one of those 
 spirits of fable fairies, or creatures of a more antique 
 mythology who sometimes mingled their agency 
 with mortal affairs, half in caprice, yet with a sensi 
 bility to human weal or woe. As he held the door for 
 her to pass, Alice beckoned to the picture and smiled. 
 
 " Come forth, dark and evil Shape ! " cried she. 
 " It is thine hour ! " 
 
 In the evening, Lieutenant-Governor Hutchinson 
 sat in the same chamber w r here the foregoing scene 
 had occurred, surrounded by several persons whose 
 various interests had summoned them together. There 
 were the Selectmen of Boston, plain, patriarchal fa 
 thers of the people, excellent representatives of the 
 old puritanical founders, whose sombre strength had 
 stamped so deep an impress upon the New England 
 character. Contrasting with these were one or two 
 members of Council, richly dressed in the white wigs, 
 the embroidered waistcoats and other magnificence of 
 the time, and making a somewhat ostentatious display 
 of courtier-like ceremonial. In attendance, likewise, 
 was a major of the British army, awaiting the Lieu- 
 
300 TWICE-TOLD TALES. 
 
 tenant-Governor s orders for the landing of the troops, 
 which still remained on board the transports. The 
 Captain of Castle William stood beside Hutchinson s 
 chair with folded arms, glancing rather haughtily at 
 the British officer, by whom he was soon to be super 
 seded in his command. On a table, in the centre of 
 the chamber, stood a branched silver candlestick, 
 throwing down the glow of half a dozen wax-lights 
 upon a paper apparently ready for the Lieutenant- 
 Governor s signature. 
 
 Partly shrouded in the voluminous folds of one of 
 the window curtains, which fell from the ceiling 10 
 the floor, was seen the white drapery of a lady s robe. 
 It may appear strange that Alice Vane should have 
 been there at such a time ; but there was something 
 so childlike, so wayward, in her singular character, so 
 apart from ordinary rules, that her presence did not 
 surprise the few who noticed it. Meantime, the chair 
 man of the Selectmen was addressing to the Lieuten 
 ant-Go vernor a long and solemn protest against the 
 reception of the British troops into the town. 
 
 " And if your Honor," concluded this excellent but 
 somewhat prosy old gentleman, " shall see fit to per 
 sist in bringing these mercenary sworders and mus 
 keteers into our quiet streets, not on our heads be the 
 responsibility. Think, sir, while there is yet time, 
 that if one drop of blood be shed, that blood shall be 
 an eternal stain upon your Honor s memory. You, 
 sir, have written with an able pen the deeds of our 
 forefathers. The more to be desired is it, therefore, 
 that yourself should deserve honorable mention, as a 
 true patriot and upright ruler, when your own doings 
 lhall be written down in history." -./.- 
 
 " I am not insensible, my good sir, to the natural 
 
EDWARD RANDOLPH S PORTRAIT. 301 
 
 desire to stand well in the annals of my country, 
 replied Hutchinson, controlling his impatience into 
 courtesy, " nor know I any better method of attaining 
 that end than by withstanding the merely temporary 
 spirit of mischief, which, with your pardon, seems to 
 have infected elder men than myself. Would you 
 have me wait till the mob shall sack the Province 
 House, as they did my private mansion ? Trust me, 
 sir, the time may come when you will be glad to flee 
 for protection to the king s banner, the raising of 
 which is now so distasteful to you." 
 
 " Yes," said the British major, who was impatiently 
 expecting the Lieutenant-Governors orders. "The 
 demagogues of this Province have raised the devil 
 and cannot lay him again. We will exorcise him, 
 in God s name and the king s." 
 
 " If you meddle with the devil, take care of his 
 claws ! " answered the Captain of Castle William, 
 stirred by the taunt against his countrymen. 
 
 " Craving your pardon, young sir," said the ven 
 erable Selectman, " let not an evil spirit enter into 
 your words. We will strive against the oppressor 
 with prayer and fasting, as our forefathers would have 
 done. Like them, moreover, we will submit to what 
 ever lot a wise Providence may send us, always, af 
 ter our own best exertions to amend it." 
 
 " And there peep forth the devil s claws ! " muttered 
 Hutchinson, who well understood the nature of Puri 
 tan submission. "This matter shall be expedited 
 forthwith. When there shall be a sentinel at every 
 corner, and a court of guard before the town house, a 
 loyal gentleman may venture to walk abroad. What 
 to me is the outcry of a mob, in this remote province 
 of the realm ? The king is my master, and England 
 
302 TWICE-TOLD TALES. 
 
 is my country ! Upheld by their armed strength, I 
 set my foot upon the rabble, and defy them ! " 
 
 He snatched a pen, and was about to affix his sig 
 nature to the paper that lay on the table, when the 
 Captain of Castle William placed his hand upon his 
 shoulder. The freedom of the action, so contrary to 
 the ceremonious respect which was then considered 
 due to rank and dignity, awakened general surprise, 
 and in none more than in the Lieutenant-Governor 
 himself. Looking angrily up, he perceived that his 
 young relative was pointing his finger to the opposite 
 wall. Hutchinson s eye followed the signal ; and he 
 saw, what had hitherto been unobserved, that a black 
 silk curtain was suspended before the mysterious pict 
 ure, so as completely to conceal it. His thoughts im 
 mediately recurred to the scene of the preceding af 
 ternoon ; and, in his surprise, confused by indistinct 
 emotions, yet sensible that his niece must have had 
 an agency in this phenomenon, he called loudly upon 
 her. 
 
 " Alice ! come hither, Alice! " 
 
 No sooner had he spoken than Alice Vane glided 
 from her station, and pressing one hand across her 
 eyes, with the other snatched away the sable curtain 
 that concealed the portrait. An exclamation of sur 
 prise burst from every beholder ; but the Lieutenant- 
 Governor s voice had a tone of horror. 
 
 " By Heaven ! " said lie, in a low, inward murmur, 
 speaking rather to himself than to those around him, 
 " if the spirit of Edward Randolph were to appear 
 among us from the place of torment, he could not 
 wear more of the terrors of hell upon his face ! " 
 
 " For some wise end," said the aged Selectman, sol 
 emnly, "hath Providence scattered away the mist of 
 
EDWARD RANDOLPH S PORTRAIT. 303 
 
 years that had so long hid this dreadful effigy. Until 
 this hour no living man hath seen what we behold ! " 
 
 Within the antique frame, which so recently had 
 inclosed a sable waste of canvas, now appeared a visi 
 ble picture, still dark, indeed, in its hues and shadings, 
 but thrown forward in strong relief. It was a half- 
 length figure of a gentleman in a rich but very old- 
 fashioned dress of embroidered velvet, with a broad 
 ruff and a beard, and wearing a hat, the brim of which 
 overshadowed his forehead. Beneath this cloud the 
 eyes had a peculiar glare, which was almost lifelike. 
 The whole portrait started so distinctly out of the 
 background, that it had the effect of a person look 
 ing down from the wall at the astonished and awe- 
 stricken spectators. The expression of the face, if any 
 words can convey an idea of it, was that of a wretch 
 detected in some hideous guilt, and exposed to the 
 bitter hatred and laughter and withering scorn of a 
 vast surrounding multitude. There was the struggle of 
 defiance, beaten down and overwhelmed by the crush 
 ing weight of ignominy. The torture of the soul had 
 come forth upon the countenance. It seemed as if 
 the picture, while hidden behind the cloud of imme 
 morial years, had been all the time acquiring an in- 
 tenser depth and darkness of expression, till now it 
 gloomed forth again, and threw its evil omen over the 
 present hour. Such, if the wild legend may be cred 
 ited, was the portrait of Edward Randolph, as he ap 
 peared when a people s curse had wrought its influence 
 upon his nature. 
 
 "* "T would drive me mad that awful face!* said 
 Hutchinson, who seemed fascinated by the contempla 
 tion of it. 
 
 " Be warned, then ! " whispered Alice. " He tram- 
 
304 TWICE-TOLD TALES. 
 
 pled on a people s rights. Behold his punishment 
 and avoid a crime like his ! " 
 
 The Lieutenant-Governor actually trembled for an 
 instant ; but, exerting his energy which was not, 
 however, his most characteristic feature he strove to 
 shake off the spell of Randolph s countenance. 
 
 " Girl ! " cried he, laughing bitterly as he turned 
 to Alice, " have you brought hither your painter s art 
 your Italian spirit of intrigue your tricks of 
 stage effect and think to influence the councils of 
 rulers and the affairs of nations by such shallow con 
 trivances? See here ! " 
 
 " Stay yet a while," said the Selectman, as Hutch- 
 inson again snatched the pen ; " for if ever mortal 
 man received a warning from a tormented soul, your 
 Honor is that man ! " 
 
 " Away ! " answered Hutchinson fiercely. " Though 
 yonder senseless picture cried 4 Forbear ! it should 
 not move me ! " 
 
 Casting a scowl of defiance at the pictured face 
 (which seemed at that moment to intensify the horror 
 of its miserable and wicked look), he scrawled on the 
 paper, in characters that betokened it a deed of des 
 peration, the name of Thomas Hutchinson. Then, it 
 is said, he shuddered, as if that signature had granted 
 away his salvation. 
 
 " It is done," said he ; and placed his hand upon his 
 brow. 
 
 " May Heaven forgive the deed," said the soft, sad 
 accents of Alice Vane, like the voice of a good spirit 
 flitting away. 
 
 When morning came there was a stifled whisper 
 through the household, and spreading thence about 
 the town, that the dark, mysterious picture had started 
 
EDWARD RANDOLPH S PORTRAIT. 305 
 
 from the wall, and spoken face to face with Lieutenant- 
 Governor Hutchinson. If such a miracle had been 
 wrought, however, no traces of it remained behind, for 
 within the antique frame nothing could be discerned 
 save the impenetrable cloud, which had covered the 
 canvas since the memory of man. If the figure had, 
 indeed, stepped forth, it had fled back, spirit-like, at 
 the daydawn, and hidden itself behind a century s ob 
 scurity. The truth probably was, that Alice Vane s 
 secret for restoring the hues of the picture had merely 
 effected a temporary renovation. But those who, in 
 that brief interval, had beheld the awful visage of Ed 
 ward Randolph, desired no second glance, and evei- 
 afterwards trembled at the recollection of the scene, 
 as if an evil spirit had appeared visibly among them. 
 And as for Hutchinson, when, far over the ocean, his 
 dying hour drew on, he gasped for breath, and com 
 plained that he was choking with the blood of the 
 Boston Massacre ; and Francis Lincoln, the former 
 Captain of Castle William, who was standing at his 
 bedside, perceived a likeness in his frenzied look to 
 that of Edward Randolph. Did his broken spirit feel, 
 at that dread hour, the tremendous burden of a Peo 
 ple s curse? 
 
 At the conclusion of this miraculous legend, I in 
 quired of mine host whether the picture still remained 
 in the chamber over our heads , but Mr. Tiffany in 
 formed me that it had long since been removed, and 
 was supposed to be hidden in some out-of-the-w r ay cor 
 ner of the New England Museum. Perchance some 
 curious antiquary may light upon it there, and, with 
 the assistance of Mr. Howorth, the picture cleaner, 
 
 VOL. i. 20 
 
306 TWICE-TOLD TALES. 
 
 may supply a not unnecessary proof of the authenticity 
 of the facts here set down. During the progress o( 
 the story a storm had been gathering abroad, and rag 
 ing and rattling so loudly in the upper regions of the 
 Province House, that it seemed as if all the old gov 
 ernors and great men were running riot above stairs 
 while Mr. Bela Tiffany babbled of them below. In 
 the course of generations, when many people have 
 lived and died in an ancient house, the whistling of 
 the wind through its crannies, and the creaking of its 
 beams and rafters, become strangely like the tones of 
 the human voice, or thundering laughter, or heavy 
 footsteps treading the deserted chambers. It is as if 
 the echoes of half a century were revived. Such were 
 the ghostly sounds that roared and murmured in our 
 ears when I took leave of the circle round the fireside 
 of the Province House, and plunging down the door 
 steps, fought my way homeward against a drifting 
 snow-storm. 
 
LEGENDS OF THE PROVINCE HOUSE. 
 
 III. 
 LADY ELEANORE S MANTLE. 
 
 MINE excellent friend, the landlord of the Province 
 House, was pleased, the other evening, to invite Mr. 
 Tiffany and myself to an oyster supper. This slight 
 mark of respect and gratitude, as he handsomely ob 
 served, was far less than the ingenious tale-teller, and 
 I, the humble note-taker of his narratives, had fairly 
 earned, by the public notice which our joint lucubra 
 tions had attracted to his establishment. Many a 
 cigar had been smoked within his premises many 
 a glass of wine, or more potent aqua vitas, had been 
 quaffed many a dinner had been eaten by curious 
 strangers, who, save for the fortunate conjunction 
 of Mr. Tiffany and me, would never have ventured 
 through that darksome avenue which gives access to 
 the historic precincts of the Province House. In 
 short, if any credit be due to the courteous assurances 
 of Mr. Thomas Waite, we had brought his forgotten 
 mansion almost as effectually into public view as if we 
 had thrown down the vulgar range of shoe shops and 
 dry goods stores, which hides its aristocratic front 
 from Washington Street. It may be unadvisable, 
 however, to speak too loudly of the increased custom 
 of the house, lest Mr. Waite should find it difficult to 
 renew the lease on so favorable terms as heretofore. 
 
 Being thus welcomed as benefactors, neither Mr. 
 
308 TWICE-TOLD TALES. 
 
 Tiffany nor myself felt any scruple in doing full jus 
 tice to the good things that were set before us. If the 
 feast were less magnificent than those same panelled 
 walls had witnessed in a by-gone century, if mine 
 host presided with somewhat less of state than might 
 have befitted a successor of the royal Governors, if 
 the guests made a less imposing show than the be- 
 wigged and powdered and embroided dignitaries, who 
 erst banqueted at the gubernatorial table, and now 
 sleep, within their armorial tombs on Copp s Hill, or 
 round King s Chapel, yet never, I may boldly say, 
 did a more comfortable little party assemble in the 
 Province House, from Queen Anne s days to the 
 Revolution. The occasion was rendered more inter 
 esting by the presence of a venerable personage, whose 
 own actual reminiscences went back to the epoch of 
 Gage and Howe, and even supplied him with a doubt 
 ful anecdote or two of Hutchinson. He was one of 
 that small, and now all but extinguished, class, whose 
 attachment to royalty, and to the colonial institutions 
 and customs that were connected with it, had never 
 yielded to the democratic heresies of after times. The 
 young queen of Britain has not a more loyal subject 
 in her realm perhaps not one who would kneel be 
 fore her throne with such reverential love as this 
 old grandsire, whose head has whitened beneath the 
 mild sway of the Republic, which still, in his mel 
 lower moments, he terms a usurpation. Yet prej 
 udices so obstinate have not made him an ungentle 
 or impracticable companion. If the truth must be 
 told, the life of the aged loyalist has been of such a 
 scrambling and unsettled character, he has had so 
 little choice of friends and been so often destitute of 
 any, that I doubt whether he would refuse a cup of 
 
LADY ELEANORE S MANTLE. 309 
 
 kindness with either Oliver Cromwell or John Han 
 cock, to say nothing of any democrat now upon the 
 stage. In another paper of this series I may perhaps 
 give the reader a closer glimpse of his portrait. 
 
 Our host, in due season, uncorked a bottle of Ma 
 deira, of such exquisite perfume and admirable flavor 
 that he surely must have discovered it in an ancient 
 bin, down deep beneath the deepest cellar, where some 
 jolly old butler stored away the Governor s choicest 
 wine, and forgot to reveal the secret on his death-bed. 
 Peace to his red-nosed ghost, and a libation to his 
 memory ! This precious liquor was imbibed by Mr. 
 Tiffany with peculiar zest ; and after sipping the third 
 glass, it was his pleasure to give us one of the oddest 
 legends which he had yet raked from the storehouse 
 where he keeps such matters. With some suitable 
 adornments from my own fancy, it ran pretty much as 
 follows. 
 
 Not long after Colonel Shute had assumed the gov 
 ernment of Massachusetts Bay, now nearly a hundred 
 and twenty years ago, a young lady of rank and for 
 tune arrived from England, to claim his protection as 
 her guardian. He was her distant relative, but the 
 nearest who had survived the gradual extinction of her 
 family ; so that no more eligible shelter could be found 
 for the rich and high-born Lady Eleanore Rochcliffe 
 than within the Province House of a transatlantic 
 colony. The consort of Governor Shute, moreover, 
 had been as a mother to her childhood, and was now 
 anxious to receive her, in the hope that a beautiful 
 young woman would be exposed to infinitely less peril 
 from the primitive society of Xew England than amid 
 
310 TWICE-TOLD TALES. 
 
 the artifices and corruptions of a court. If either the 
 Governor or his lady had especially consulted their 
 own comfort, they would probably have sought to de 
 volve the responsibility on other hands : since, with 
 some noble and splendid traits of character, Lady El- 
 eanore was remarkable for a harsh, unyielding pride, 
 a haughty consciousness of her hereditary and per 
 sonal advantages, which made her almost incapable of 
 control. Judging from many traditionary anecdotes, 
 this peculiar temper was hardly less than a mono 
 mania ; or, if the acts which it inspired were those of 
 a sane person, it seemed due from Providence that 
 pride so sinful should be followed by as severe a 
 retribution. That tinge of the marvellous, which is 
 thrown over so many of these half-forgotten legends, 
 has probably imparted an additional wildness to the 
 strange story of Lady Eleanore Rochcliffe. 
 
 The ship in which she came passenger had arrived 
 at Newport, whence Lady Eleanore was conveyed to 
 Boston in the Governor s coach, attended by a small 
 escort of gentlemen on horseback. The ponderous 
 equipage, with its four black horses, attracted much 
 notice as it rumbled through Cornhill, surrounded by 
 the prancing steeds of half a dozen cavaliers, with 
 swords dangling to their stirrups and pistols at their 
 holsters. Through the large glass windows of the 
 coach, as it rolled along, the people could discern the 
 figure of Lady Eleanore, strangely combining an al 
 most queenly stateliness with the grace and beauty of a 
 maiden in her teens. A singular tale had gone abroad 
 among the ladies of the province, that their fair rivaJ 
 was indebted for much of the irresistible charm of hei 
 appearance to a certain article of dress an emb^oid- 
 ered mantle which had been wrought by the most 
 
LADY ELEANORE 1 S MANTLE. 311 
 
 skilful artist in London, and possessed even magical 
 properties of adornment. On the present occasion, 
 however, she owed nothing to the witchery of dress, 
 being clad in a riding habit of velvet, which would 
 have appeared stiff and ungraceful on any other form. 
 
 The coachman reined in his four black steeds, and 
 the whole cavalcade came to a pause in front of the 
 contorted iron balustrade that fenced the Province 
 House from the public street. It was an awkward 
 coincidence that the bell of the Old South was just 
 then tolling for a f uneral ; so that, instead of a glad 
 some peal with which it was customary to announce 
 the arrival of distinguished strangers, Lady Eleanore 
 Rochcliffe was ushered by a doleful clang, as if calam 
 ity had come embodied in her beautiful person. 
 
 4k A very great disrespect I " exclaimed Captain 
 Langford, an English officer, who had recently 
 brought dispatches to Governor Shute. "The fu 
 neral should have been deferred, lest Lady Eleanore s 
 spirits be affected by such a dismal welcome." 
 
 "With your pardon, sir, replied Doctor Clarke, 
 a physician, and a famous champion of the popular 
 party, * whatever the heralds may pretend, a dead beg 
 gar must have precedence of a living queen. King 
 Death confers high privileges. 
 
 These remarks were interchanged while the speak 
 ers waited a passage through the crowd, which had 
 gathered on each side of the gateway, leaving an open 
 avenue to the portal of the Province House. A black 
 slave in livery now leaped from behind the coach, and 
 threw open the door ; wliile at the same moment Gov 
 ernor Shute descended the flight of steps from his 
 mansion, to assist Lady Eleanore in alighting. But 
 the Governor s stately approach was anticipated in a 
 
312 TWICE-TOLD TALES. 
 
 manner that excited general astonishment. A pale 
 young man, with his black hair all in disorder, rushed 
 from the throng, and prostrated himself beside the 
 coach, thus offering his person as a footstool for Lady 
 Eleanore Rochcliffe to tread upon. She held back an 
 instant, yet with an expression as if doubting whether 
 the young man were worthy to bear the weight of her 
 footstep, rather than dissatisfied to receive such awful 
 reverence from a fellow-mortal. 
 
 " Up, sir," said the Governor, sternly, at the same 
 time lifting his cane over the intruder. " What means 
 the Bedlamite by this freak ? " 
 
 " Nay," answered lady Eleanore playfully, but with 
 more scorn than pity in her tone, " your Excellency 
 shall not strike him. When men seek only to be 
 trampled upon, it were a pity to deny them a favor so 
 easily granted and so well deserved ! " 
 
 Then, though as lightly as a sunbeam on a cloud, 
 she placed her foot upon the cowering form, and ex 
 tended her hand to meet that of the Governor. There 
 was a brief interval, during which Lady Eleanore 
 retained this attitude ; and never, surely, was there an 
 apter emblem of aristocracy and hereditary pride 
 trampling on human sympathies and the kindred of 
 nature, than these two figures presented at that mo 
 ment. Yet the spectators were so smitten with her 
 beauty, and so essential did pride seem to the exist 
 ence of such a creature, that they gave a simultaneous 
 acclamation of applause. 
 
 "Who is this insolent young fellow?" inquired 
 Captain Langford, who still remained beside Doctor 
 Clarke. "If he be in his senses, his impertinence 
 demands the bastinado. If mad, Lady Eleanore 
 should be secured from further inconvenience, by his 
 confinement" 
 
LADY ELEANORE S MANTLE. 313 
 
 "His name is Jervase Helwyse," answered the Doc 
 tor ; " a youth of no birth or fortune, or other advan 
 tages, save the mind and soul that nature gave him ; 
 and being secretary to our colonial agent in London, 
 it was his misfortune to meet this Lady Eleanore 
 Rochcliffe. He loved her and her scorn has driven 
 him mad." 
 
 " He was mad so to aspire," observed the English 
 officer. 
 
 ic It may be so," said Doctor Clarke, frowning as he 
 spoke. " But I tell you, sir, I could well-nigh doubt 
 the justice of the Heaven above us if no signal humili 
 ation overtake this lady, who now treads so haughtily 
 into yonder mansion. She seeks to place herself above 
 the sympathies of our common nature, which envelops 
 all human soids. See, if that nature do not assert its 
 claim over her in some mode that shall bring her level 
 with the lowest ! " 
 
 " Never ! " cried Captain Langford indignantly 
 neither in life, nor when they lay her with her 
 ancestors." 
 
 Xot many days afterwards the Governor gave a ball 
 in honor of Lady Eleanore Rochcliffe. The principal 
 gentry of the colony received invitations, which were 
 distributed to their residences, far and near, by mes 
 sengers on horseback, bearing missives sealed with all 
 the formality of official dispatches. In obedience to 
 the summons, there was a general gathering of rank, 
 wealth, and beauty ; and the wide door of the Province 
 House had seldom given admittance to more numerous 
 and honorable guests than on the evening of Lady 
 Eleanore s ball. Without much extravagance of eu 
 logy, the spectacle might even be termed splendid ; 
 for, according to the fashion of the times, the ladies 
 
314 TWICE-TOLD TALES. 
 
 shone in rich silks and satins, outspread over 
 projecting hoops ; and the gentlemen glittered in gold 
 embroidery, laid unsparingly upon the purple, or scar 
 let, or sky-blue velvet, which was the material of their 
 coats and waistcoats. The latter article of dress was 
 of great importance, since it enveloped the wearer s 
 body nearly to the knees, and was perhaps bedizened 
 with the amount of his whole year s income, in golden 
 flowers and foliage. The altered taste of the present 
 day a taste symbolic of a deep change in the whole 
 system of society would look upon almost any of 
 those gorgeous figures as ridiculous ; although that 
 evening the guests sought their reflections in the pier- 
 glasses, and rejoiced to catch their own glitter amid 
 the glittering crowd. What a pity that one of the 
 stately mirrors has not preserved a picture of the 
 scene, which, by the very traits that were so transi 
 tory, might have taught us much that would be worth 
 knowing and remembering ! 
 
 Would, at least, that either painter or mirror could 
 convey to us some faint idea of a garment, already 
 noticed in this legend, the Lady Eleanore s embroid 
 ered mantle, which the gossips whispered was in 
 vested with magic properties, so as to lend a new and 
 untried grace to her figure each time that she put it 
 on ! Idle fancy as it is, this mysterious mantle has 
 thrown an awe around my image of her, partly from 
 its fabled virtues, and partly because it was the handi 
 work of a dying woman, and, perchance, owed the fan 
 tastic grace of its conception to the delirium of ap 
 proaching death. 
 
 After the ceremonial greetings had been paid, Lady 
 Eleanore Rochcliffe stood apart from the mob of 
 guests, insulating herself within a small and distir 
 
LADY ELEANORE S MANTLE. 315 
 
 finished circle, to whom she accorded a more cordial 
 favor than to the general throng . The \vaxeii torches 
 threw their radiance vividly over the scene, bringing 
 out its brilliant points in strong relief ; but she gazed 
 careless!} , and with now and then an expression of 
 weariness or scorn, tempered with such feminine grace 
 that her auditors scarcely perceived the moral deform 
 ity of which it was the utterance. She beheld the 
 spectacle not with vulgar ridicule, as disdaining to be 
 pleased with the provincial mockery of a court festival, 
 but with the deeper scorn of one whose spirit held it 
 self too high to participate in the enjoyment of other 
 human souls. Whether or no the recollections of 
 those who saw her that evening were influenced by 
 the strange events with which she was subsequently 
 connected, so it was that her figure ever after recurred 
 to them as marked by something wild and unnatural, 
 although, at the time, the general whisper was of her 
 exceeding beauty, and of the indescribable charm 
 which her mantle threw around her. Some close ob 
 servers, indeed, detected a feverish flush and alternate 
 paleness of countenance, with a corresponding flow and 
 revulsion of spirits, and once or twice a painful and 
 helpless betrayal of lassitude, as if she were on the 
 point of sinking to the ground. Then, with a nervous 
 shudder, she seemed to arouse her energies and threw 
 some bright and playful yet half-wicked sarcasm into 
 the conversation. There was so strange a character 
 istic in her manners and sentiments that it astonished 
 every right-minded listener , till looking in her face, a 
 lurking and incomprehensible glance and smile per 
 plexed them with doubts both as to her seriousness 
 and sanity. Gradually, Lady Eleanore Rochcliffe s 
 circle grew smaller, till only four gentlemen remained 
 
316 TWICE-TOLD TALES. 
 
 in it. These were Captain Langford, the English 
 officer before mentioned ; a Virginian planter, who had 
 come to Massachusetts, on some political errand ; a 
 young Episcopal clergyman, the grandson of a British 
 earl ; and, lastly, the private secretary of Governor 
 Shute, whose obsequiousness had won a sort of toler 
 ance from Lady Eleanore. 
 
 At different periods of the evening the liveried 
 servants of the Province House passed among the 
 guests, bearing huge trays of refreshments and French 
 and Spanish wines. Lady Eleanore Rochcliffe, who 
 refused to- wet her beautif id lips even with a bubble of 
 Champagne, had sunk back into a large damask chair, 
 apparently overwearied either with the excitement of 
 the scene or its tedium, and while, for an instant, she 
 was unconscious of voices, laughter and music, a 
 young man stole forward, and knelt down at her feet. 
 He bore a salver in his hand, on which was a chased 
 silver goblet, filled to the brim with wine, which he 
 offered as reverentially as to a crowned queen, or 
 rather with the awfid devotion of a priest doing 
 sacrifice to his idol. Conscious that some one touched 
 her robe, Lady Eleanore started, and unclosed her 
 eyes upon the pale, wild features and dishevelled hair 
 of Jervase Helwyse. 
 
 " Why do you haunt me thus ? " said she, in a lan 
 guid tone, but with a kindlier feeling than she ordina 
 rily permitted herself to express. " They tell me that 
 I have done you harm." 
 
 " Heaven knows if that be so," replied the young 
 man solemnly. " But, Lady Eleanore, in requital of 
 that lira, if such there be, and for your own earthly 
 and heavenly welfare, I pray you to take one sip of 
 this holy wine, and then to pass the goblet round 
 
LADY ELEANORE S MANTLE. 317 
 
 among the guests. And this shall be a symbol that 
 you have not sought to withdraw yourself from the 
 chain of human sympathies which whoso would 
 shake off must keep company with fallen angels." 
 
 " Where has this mad fellow stolen that sacramental 
 vessel ? " exclaimed the Episcopal clergyman. 
 
 This question drew the notice of the guests to the 
 silver cup, which was recognized as appertaining to 
 the communion plate of the Old South Church; and, 
 for aught that could be known, it was brimming over 
 with the consecrated wine. 
 
 " Perhaps it is poisoned," half whispered the Gov 
 ernor s secretary. 
 
 " Pour it down the villain s throat ! " cried the Vir 
 ginian fiercely. 
 
 " Turn him out of the house ! " cried Captain Lang- 
 ford, seizing Jervase Helwyse so roughly by the 
 shoidder that the sacramental cup was overturned, 
 and its contents sprinkled upon Lady Eleanore s 
 mantle. "Whether knave, fool, or Bedlamite, it is 
 intolerable that the fellow should go at large." 
 
 " Pray, gentlemen, do my poor admirer no harm," 
 said Lady Eleanore, with a faint and weary smile. 
 " Take him out of my sight, if such be your pleasure ; 
 for I can find in my heart to do nothing but laugh at 
 him ; whereas, in all decency and conscience, it would 
 become me to weep for the mischief I have wrought ! " 
 
 But while the by-standers were attempting to lead 
 away the unfortunate young man, he broke from them, 
 and with a wild, impassioned earnestness, offered a 
 new and equally strange petition to Lady Eleanore. It 
 was no other than that she should throw off the mantle, 
 which, while he pressed the silver cup of wine upon 
 her, she had drawn more closely around her form, so 
 as almost to shroud herself within it. 
 
818 TWICE-TOLD TALES. 
 
 " Cast it from you ! " exclaimed Jervase Helwyse, 
 clasping his hands in an agony of entreaty. "It may 
 not yet be too late ! Give the accursed garment to 
 the flames ! " 
 
 But Lady Eleanore, with a laugh of scorn, drew the 
 rich folds of the embroidered mantle over her head, in 
 such a fashion as to give a completely new aspect to 
 her beautiful face, which half hidden, half revealed 
 seemed to belong to some being of mysterious char 
 acter and purposes, 
 
 "Farewell, Jervase Helwyse!" said she. "Keep 
 my image in your remembrance, as you behold it 
 now." 
 
 " Alas, lady ! " he replied, in a tone no longer wild, 
 but sad as a funeral bell. " We must meet shortly, 
 when your face may wear another aspect and that 
 shall be the image that must abide within me." 
 
 He made no more resistance to the violent efforts of 
 the gentlemen and servants, who almost dragged him 
 out of the apartment, and dismissed him roughly from 
 the iron gate of the Province House. Captain Lang- 
 ford, who had been very active in this affair, was re 
 turning to the presence of Lady Eleanore Eochcliffe, 
 when he encountered the physician, Doctor Clarke, 
 with whom he had held some casual talk on the day of 
 her arrival. The Doctor stood apart, separated from 
 Lady Eleanore by the width of the room, but eying 
 her with such keen sagacity that Captain Langford 
 involuntarily gave him credit for the discovery of some 
 deep secret. 
 
 "You appear to be smitten, after all, with the charms 
 of this queenly maiden," said he, hoping thus to draw 
 forth the physician s hidden knowledge. 
 
 " God forbid ! " answered Doctor Clarke, with a grave 
 
LADY ELEANORE S MANTLE. 319 
 
 smile ; " and if you be wise you will put up the same 
 prayer for yourself. Woe to those who shall be smit 
 ten by this beautiful Lady Eleanore! But yonder 
 stands the Governor and I have a word or two for 
 his private ear. Good night ! " 
 
 He accordingly advanced to Governor Shute, and 
 addressed him in so low a tone that none of the 
 by-standers coidd catch a word of what he said, al 
 though the sudden change of his Excellency s hitherto 
 cheerful visage betokened that the communication 
 could be of no agreeable import. A very few moments 
 afterwards it was announced to the guests that an un 
 foreseen circumstance rendered it necessary to put a 
 premature close to the festival. 
 
 The ball at the Province House supplied a topic of 
 conversation for the colonial metropolis for some days 
 after its occurrence, and might still longer have been 
 the general theme, only that a subject of all-engrossing 
 interest thrust it, for a time, from the public recollec 
 tion. This was the appearance of a dreadful epidemic, 
 which, in that age and long before and afterwards, 
 was wont to slay its hundreds and thousands on both 
 sides of the Atlantic. On the occasion of which we 
 speak, it was distinguished by a peculiar virulence, in 
 somuch that it has left its traces its pit-marks, to use 
 an appropriate figure on the history of the country, 
 the affairs of which were thrown into confusion by 
 its ravages. At first, unlike its ordinary course, the 
 
 O ** 
 
 disease seemed to confine itself to the higher circles of 
 society, selecting its victims from among the proud, 
 the well-born, and the wealthy, entering unabashed into 
 stately chambers, and lying down with the slumberers 
 in silken beds. Some of the most distinguished guests 
 of the Province House even those whom the haughty 
 
820 TWICE-TOLD TALES. 
 
 Lady Eleanore Rochcliffe had deemed not unworthy 
 of her favor were stricken by this fatal scourge. It 
 was noticed, with an ungenerous bitterness of feeling, 
 that the four gentlemen the Virginian, the British 
 officer, the young clergyman, and the Governor s se 
 cretary who had been her most devoted attendants 
 on the evening of the ball, were the foremost on whom 
 the plague stroke fell. But the disease, pursuing its 
 onward progress, soon ceased to be exclusively a pre 
 rogative of aristocracy. Its red brand was 110 longer 
 conferred like a noble s star, or an order of knight 
 hood. It threaded its way through the narrow and 
 crooked streets, and entered the low, mean, darksome 
 dwellings, and laid its hand of death upon the artisans 
 and laboring classes of the town. It compelled rich 
 and poor to feel themselves brethren then ; and stalk 
 ing to and fro across the Three Hills, with a fierceness 
 which made it almost a new pestilence, there was that 
 mighty conqueror that scourge and horror of our 
 forefathers the Small-Pox ! 
 
 We cannot estimate the affright which this plague 
 inspired of yore, by contemplating it as the fangless 
 monster of the present day. We must remember, 
 rather, with what awe we watched the gigantic foot 
 steps of the Asiatic cholera, striding from shore to 
 shore of the Atlantic, and marching like destiny upon 
 cities far remote which flight had already half depopu 
 lated. There is no other fear so horrible and unhu- 
 manizing as that which makes man dread to breathe 
 heaven s vital air lest it be poison, or to grasp the 
 hand of a brother or friend lest the gripe of the pes 
 tilence should clutch him. Such was the dismay that 
 now followed in the track of the disease, or ran before 
 it throughout the town. Graves were hastily dug, and 
 
LADY ELEANORE S MANTLE. 321 
 
 the pestilential relies as hastily covered, because the 
 dead were enemies of the living, and strove to draw 
 them headlong, as it were, into their own dismal pit. 
 The public councils were suspended, as if mortal wis 
 dom might relinquish its devices, now that an un 
 earthly usurper had found his way into the ruler s 
 mansion. Had an enemy s fleet been hovering on the 
 coast, or his armies trampling on our soil, the people 
 would probably have committed their defence to that 
 same direful conqueror w r ho had wrought their own 
 calamity, and would permit no interference with his 
 sway. This conqueror had a symbol of his triumphs. 
 It was a blood-red flag, that fluttered in the tainted 
 air, over the door of every dwelling into which the 
 Small-Pox had entered. 
 
 Such a banner was long since waving over the 
 portal of the Province House ; for thence, as was 
 proved by tracking its footsteps back, had all tin s 
 dreadful mischief issued. It had been traced back to 
 a lady s luxurious chamber to the proudest of the 
 proud to her that was so delicate, and hardly owned 
 herself of earthly mould to the haughty one, who 
 took her stand above human sympathies to Lady 
 Eleanore ! There remained no room for doubt that 
 the contagion had lurked in that gorgeous mantle, 
 which threw so strange a grace around her at the 
 festival. Its fantastic splendor had been conceived in 
 the delirious brain of a woman on her death-bed, and 
 was the last toil of her stiffening fingers, which had 
 interwoven fate and misery with its golden threads. 
 This dark tale, whispered at first, was now bruited 
 far and wide. The people raved against the Lady 
 Eieanore, and cried out that her pride and scorn had 
 evoked a fiend, and that, between them both, this 
 
 VOL. I. 21 
 
322 TWICE-TOLD TALES. 
 
 monstrous evil had been born. At times, their rage 
 and despair took the semblance of grinning mirth ; 
 and whenever the red flag of the pestilence was hoisted 
 over another and yet another door, they clapped their 
 hands and shouted through the streets, in bitter mock 
 ery : " Behold a new triumph for the Lady Eleanore ! " 
 
 One day, in the midst of these dismal times, a wild 
 figure approached the portal of the Province House, 
 and folding his arms, stood contemplating the scarlet 
 banner which a passing breeze shook fitfully, as if to 
 fling abroad the contagion that it typified. At length, 
 climbing one of the pillars by means of the iron bal 
 ustrade, he took down the flag and entered the man 
 sion, w r aving it above his head. At the foot of the 
 staircase he met the Governor, booted and spurred, 
 with his cloak drawn around him, evidently on the 
 point of setting forth upon a journey. 
 
 " Wretched lunatic, what do you seek here ? " ex 
 claimed Shute, extending his cane to guard himself 
 from contact. "There is nothing here but Death. 
 Back or you will meet him ! " 
 
 " Death will not touch me, the banner-bearer of the 
 pestilence I " cried Jervase Helwyse, shaking the red 
 flag aloft. "Death, and the Pestilence, who wears 
 the aspect of the Lady Eleanore, will walk through 
 the streets to-night, and I must march before them 
 with this banner ! " 
 
 " Why do I waste words on the fellow ? " muttered 
 the Governor, drawing his cloak across his mouth. 
 u What matters his miserable life, when none of us 
 are sure of twelve hours breath ? On, fool, to your 
 own destruction ! " 
 
 He made way for Jervase Helwyse, who immedi- 
 ately ascended the staircase, but, on the first landing 
 
LADY ELEANORE S MANTLE. 323 
 
 place, was arrested by the firm grasp of a hand upon 
 his shoulder. Looking fiercely up, with a madman s 
 impulse to struggle with and rend asunder his oppo 
 nent, he found himself powerless beneath a calm, stern 
 eye, which possessed the mysterious property of quell 
 ing frenzy at its height. The person whom he had 
 now encountered was the physician, Doctor Clarke, 
 the duties of whose sad profession had led him to the 
 Province House, where he was an infrequent guest in 
 more prosperous times. 
 
 " Young man, what is your purpose ? " demanded 
 he. 
 
 k * I seek the Lady Eleanore," answered Jervase 
 Helwyse, submissively. 
 
 " All have fled from her," said the physician. 
 " Why do you seek her now ? I tell you, youth, her 
 nurse fell death-stricken on the threshold of that fatal 
 chamber. Know ye not, that never came such a curse 
 to our shores as this lovely Lady Eleanore ? that 
 her breath has filled the air with poison ? that she 
 has shaken pestilence and death upon the land, from 
 the folds of her accursed mantle? M 
 
 Let me look upon her ! rejoined the mad youth, 
 more wildly. " Let me behold her, in her awful 
 beauty, clad in the regal garments of the pestilence ! 
 She and Death sit on a throne together. Let me 
 kneel down before them ! " 
 
 "Poor youth! said Doctor Clarke; and, moved 
 by a deep sense of human weakness, a smile of caus 
 tic humor curled his lip even then. 4 - Wilt thou still 
 worship the destroyer and surround her image with 
 fantasies the more magnificent, the more evil she has 
 wrought ? Thus man doth ever to his tyrants. Ap 
 proach, then ! Madness, as I have noted, has that 
 
324 TWICE-TOLD TALES. 
 
 good efficacy, that it will guard you from contagion 
 and perchance its own cure may be found in yonder 
 chamber." 
 
 Ascending another flight of stairs, he threw open a 
 door and signed to Jervase Helwyse that he should 
 enter. The poor lunatic, it seems probable, had cher 
 ished a delusion that his haughty mistress sat in state, 
 unharmed herself by the pestilential influence, which, 
 as by enchantment, she scattered round about her. 
 He dreamed, no doubt, that her beauty was not 
 dimmed, but brightened into superhuman splendor. 
 With such anticipations, he stole reverentially to the 
 door at which the physician stood, but paused upon 
 the threshold, gazing fearfully into the gloom of the 
 darkened chamber. 
 
 " Where is the Lady Eleanore?" whispered he. 
 
 " Call her," replied the physician. 
 
 " Lady Eleanore ! Princess ! Queen of Death ! " 
 cried Jervase Helwyse, advancing three steps into the 
 chamber. " She is not here ! There, on yonder table, 
 I behold the sparkle of a diamond which once she 
 wore upon her bosom. There" and he shuddered 
 " there hangs her mantle, on which a dead woman 
 embroidered a spell of dreadful potency. But where 
 is the Lady Eleanore ? " 
 
 Something stirred within the silken curtains of a 
 canopied bed ; and a low moan was uttered, which, 
 listening intently, Jervase Helwyse began to distin 
 guish as a woman s voice, complaining dolefully of 
 thirst. He fancied, even, that he recognized its tones. 
 
 " My throat ! my throat is scorched," murmured 
 the voice. " A drop of water ! " 
 
 "What thing art thou?" said the brain-stritken 
 youth, drawing near the bed and tearing asunder it 
 
LADY ELEANORE S MANTLE. 325 
 
 curtains. " Whose voice hast thou stolen for thy mur 
 murs and miserable petitions, as if Lady Eleanore 
 could be conscious of mortal infirmity ? Fie I Heap 
 of diseased mortality, why lurkest thou in my lady s 
 chamber ? " 
 
 "O Jervase Helwyse," said the voice and as it 
 spoke the figure contorted itself, struggling to hide its 
 blasted face "look not now on the woman you once 
 loved! The curse of Heaven hath stricken me, be 
 cause I would not call man my brother, nor woman 
 sister. I wrapped myself in PRIDE as in a MAXTLE, 
 and scorned the sympathies of nature ; and therefore 
 has nature made this wretched body the medium of a 
 dreadful sympathy. You are avenged they are all 
 avenged Nature is avenged for I am Eleanore 
 Rochcliffe ! " 
 
 The malice of his mental disease, the bitterness 
 lurking at the bottom of his heart, mad as he was, for 
 a blighted and ruined life, and love that had been paid 
 with cruel scorn, awoke within the breast of Jervase 
 Helwyse. He shook his finger at the wretched girl, 
 and the chamber echoed, the curtains of the bed were 
 shaken, with his outburst of insane merriment. 
 
 " Another triumph for the Lady Eleanore ! " he 
 cried. " All have been her victims ! Who so worthy 
 to be the final victim as herself ? " 
 
 Impelled by some new fantasy of his crazed intel 
 lect, he snatched the fatal mantle and rushed from 
 the chamber and the house. That night a procession 
 passed, by torchlight, through the streets, bearing in 
 the midst the figure of a woman, enveloped with a 
 richly embroidered mantle ; while in advance stalked 
 Jervase Helwyse, waving the red flag of the pestilence. 
 Arriving opposite the Province House, the mob burned 
 
TWICE-TOLD TALES. 
 
 the effigy, and a strong wind came and swept away 
 the ashes. It was said that, from that very hour, the 
 pestilence abated, as if its sway had some mysterious 
 connection, from the first plague stroke to the last, 
 with Lady Eleanore s Mantle. A remarkable uncer 
 tainty broods over that unhappy lady s fate. There is 
 a belief, however, that in a certain chamber of this 
 mansion a female form may sometimes be duskily dis 
 cerned, shrinking into the darkest corner and muf 
 fling her face within an embroidered mantle. Suppos 
 ing the legend true, can this be other than the once 
 proud Lady Eleanore ? 
 
 Mine host and the old loyalist and I bestowed no 
 little warmth of applause upon this narrative, in which 
 we had all been deeply interested ; for the reader can 
 scarcely conceive how unspeakably the effect of such 
 a tale is heightened when, as in the present case, we 
 may repose perfect confidence in the veracity of him 
 who tells it. For my own part, knowing how scrupu 
 lous is Mr. Tiffany to settle the foundation of his facts, 
 I could not have believed him one whit the more faith 
 fully had he professed himself an eye-witness of the 
 doings and sufferings of poor Lady Eleanore. Some 
 sceptics, it is true, might demand documentary evi 
 dence, or even require him to produce the embroidered 
 mantle, forgetting that Heaven be praised it was 
 consumed to ashes. But now the old loyalist, whose 
 blood was warmed by the good cheer, began to talk, in 
 his turn, about the traditions of the Province House, 
 and hinted that he, if it were agreeable, might add a 
 few reminiscences to our legendary stock. Mr. Tiffany 
 having no cause to dread a rival, immediately besought 
 
LADY ELEANORE S MANTLE. 327 
 
 him to favor us -with a specimen ; my own entreaties, 
 of course, were urged to the same effect ; and our 
 venerable guest, well pleased to find willing auditors, 
 awaited only the return of Mr. Thomas Waite, who 
 had been summoned forth to provide accommodations 
 for several new arrivals. Perchance the public but 
 be this as its own caprice and ours shall settle the 
 matter may read the result in another Tale of the 
 Province House. 
 
LEGENDS OF THE PROVINCE HOUSE. 
 
 IV. 
 OLD ESTHER DUDLEY. 
 
 OUR host having resumed the chair, he, as well aa 
 Mr. Tiffany and myself, expressed much eagerness to 
 be made acquainted with the story to which the loyal 
 ist had alluded. That venerable man first of all saw 
 fit to moisten his throat with another glass of wine, 
 and then, turning his face towards our coal fire, looked 
 steadfastly for a few moments into the depths of its 
 cheerful glow. Finally, he poured forth a great flu 
 ency of speech. The generous liquid that he had im 
 bibed, while it warmed his age-chilled blood, likewise 
 took off the chill from his heart and mind, ai\d gave 
 him an energy to think and feel, which we could 
 hardly have expected to find beneath the snows of 
 fourscore winters. His feelings, indeed, appeared to 
 me more excitable than those of a younger man ; or at 
 least, the same degree of feeling manifested itself by 
 more visible effects than if his judgment and will had 
 possessed the potency of meridian life. At the pa 
 thetic passages of his narrative he readily melted into 
 tears. When a breath of indignation swept across his 
 spirit the blood flushed his withered visage even to the 
 roots of his white hair ; and he shook his clinched fist 
 at the trio of peaceful auditors, seeming to fancy ene 
 mies in those who felt very kindly towards the deso* 
 late old soul. But ever and anon, sometimes in the 
 
OLD ESTHER DUDLEY. 329 
 
 midst of his most earnest talk, this ancient person s 
 intellect would wander vaguely, losing its hold of the 
 matter in hand, and groping for it amid misty shad 
 ows. Then woidd he cackle forth a feeble laugh, and 
 express a doubt whether his wits for by that phrase 
 it pleased our ancient friend to signify his mental 
 powers were not getting a little the worse for wear. 
 Under these disadvantages, the old loyalist s story 
 required more revision to render it fit for the public 
 eye than those of the series which have preceded it ; 
 nor should it be concealed that the sentiment and tone 
 of the affair may have undergone some slight, or per 
 chance more than slight, metamorphosis, in its trans 
 mission to the reader through the medium of a thor 
 ough-going democrat. The tale itself is a mere sketch, 
 with no involution of plot, nor any great interest of 
 events, yet possessing, if I have rehearsed it aright, 
 that pensive influence over the mind which the shadow 
 of the old Province House flings upon the loiterer in 
 its court-yard. 
 
 The hour had come the hour of defeat and hu 
 miliation when Sir William Howe was to pass over 
 the threshold of the Province House, and embark, with 
 no such triumphal ceremonies as he once promised 
 himself, on board the British fleet. He bade his ser 
 vants and military attendants go before him, and lin 
 gered a moment in the loneliness of the mansion, to 
 quell the fierce emotions that struggled in his bosom 
 as with a death throb. Preferable, then, would he 
 have deemed his fate, had a warrior s death left him 
 a claim to the narrow territory of a grave within the 
 soil which the King had given him to defend. With 
 
330 TWICE-TOLD TALES. 
 
 an ominous perception that, as his departing footsteps 
 echoed adown the staircase, the sway of Britain was 
 passing forever from New England, he smote his 
 clinched hand on his brow, and cursed the destiny 
 that had flung the shame of a dismembered empire 
 upon him. 
 
 " Would to God," cried he, hardly repressing his 
 tears of rage, " that the rebels were even now at the 
 doorstep ! A blood-stain upon the floor should then 
 bear testimony that the last British ruler was faithful 
 to his trust." 
 
 The tremulous voice of a woman replied to his ex 
 clamation. 
 
 " Heaven s cause and the King s are one," it said. 
 " Go forth, Sir William Howe, and trust in Heaven 
 to bring back a Royal Governor in triumph." 
 
 Subduing, at once, the passion to which he had 
 yielded only in the faith that it was unwitnessed, Sir 
 William Howe became conscious that an aged woman, 
 leaning on a gold-headed staff, was standing betwixt 
 him and the door. It was old Esther Dudley, who 
 had dwelt almost immemorial years in this mansion, 
 until her presence seemed as inseparable from it as 
 the recollections of its history. She was the daughter 
 of an ancient and once eminent family, which had 
 fallen into poverty and decay, and left its last de 
 scendant no resource save the bounty of the King, nor 
 any shelter except within the walls of the Province 
 House. An office in the household, with merely nom 
 inal duties, had been assigned to her as a pretext for 
 the payment of a small pension, the greater part of 
 which she expended in adorning herself with an an 
 tique magnificence of attire. The claims of Esther 
 Dudley s gentle blood were acknowledged by all tha 
 
OLD ESTHER DUDLEY. 331 
 
 successive Governors ; and they treated her with the 
 punctilious courtesy which it was her foible to demand, 
 not always with success, from a neglectful world. The 
 only actual share which she assumed in the business 
 of the mansion was to glide through its passages and 
 public chambers, late at night, to see that the servants 
 had dropped no fire from their flaring torches, nor 
 left embers crackling and blazing on the hearths. 
 Perhaps it was this invariable custom of walking her 
 rounds in the hush of midnight that caused the super 
 stition of the times to invest the old woman with at 
 tributes of awe and mystery ; fabling that she had en 
 tered the portal of the Province House, none knew 
 whence, in the train of the first Royal Governor, and 
 that it was her fate to dwell there till the last should 
 have departed. But Sir William Howe, if he ever 
 heard this legend, had forgotten it. 
 
 " Mistress Dudley, why are you loitering here ? " 
 asked he, with some severity of tone. 4 * It is my 
 pleasure to be the last in tin s mansion of the King." 
 
 " Not so, if it please your Excellency, answered 
 the time-stricken woman. " This roof has sheltered 
 me long. I will not pass from it until they bear me 
 to the tomb of my forefathers. What other shelter is 
 there for old Esther Dudley, save the Province House 
 or the grave ? " 
 
 u Now Heaven f orn ve me ! said Sir William 
 
 O 
 
 Howe to himself. * I was about to leave this wretched 
 old creature to starve or beg. Take this, good Mis 
 tress Dudley," he added, putting a purse into her 
 hands. u King George s head on these golden guineas 
 is sterling yet, and will continue so, I warrant you, 
 even should the rebels crown John Hancock their 
 king. That purse will buy a better shelter than the 
 Province House can now afford." 
 
332 TWICE-TOLD TALES. 
 
 " While the burden of life remains upon me, I will 
 have no other shelter than this roof," persisted Esther 
 Dudley, striking her staff upon the floor with a gest 
 ure that expressed immovable resolve. " And when 
 your Excellency returns in triumph, I will totter into 
 the porch to welcome you." 
 
 " My poor old friend ! " answered the British Gen 
 eral, and all his manly and martial pride could no 
 longer restrain a gush of bitter tears. " This is an 
 evil hour for -you and me. The Province which the 
 King intrusted to my charge is lost. I go hence in 
 misfortune perchance in disgrace to return no 
 more. And you, whose present being is incorporated 
 with the past who have seen Governor after Gov 
 ernor, in stately pageantry, ascend these steps whose 
 whole life has been an observance of majestic cere 
 monies, and a worship of the King how will you 
 endure the change ? Come with us ! Bid farewell to 
 a land that has shaken off its allegiance, and live still 
 under a royal government, at Halifax." 
 
 " Never, never ! " said the pertinacious old dame. 
 " Here will I abide ; and King George shall still have 
 one true subject in his disloyal Province." 
 
 " Beshrew the old fool ! " muttered Sir William 
 Howe, growing impatient of her obstinacy, and 
 ashamed of the emotion into which he had been 
 betrayed. " She is the very moral of old-fashioned 
 prejudice, and could exist nowhere but in this musty 
 edifice. Well, then, Mistress Dudley, since you will 
 needs tarry, I give the Province House in charge to 
 you. Take this key, and keep it safe until myself, or 
 some other Royal Governor, shall demand it of you." 
 
 Smiling bitterly at himself and her, he took the 
 heavy key of the Province House, and delivering it 
 
OLD ESTHER DUDLEY. 333 
 
 into the old lady s hands, drew his cloak around him 
 for departure. As the General glanced back at Es 
 ther Dudley s antique figure, he deemed her well fitted 
 for such a charge, as being so perfect a representative 
 of the decayed past of an age gone by, with its 
 manners, opinions, faith and feelings, all fallen into 
 oblivion or scorn of what had once been a reality, 
 but was now merely a vision of faded magnificence. 
 Then Sir William Howe strode forth, smiting his 
 clinched hands together, in the fierce anguish of his 
 spirit ; and old Esther Dudley was left to keep watch 
 in the lonely Province House, dwelling there with 
 memory ; and if Hope ever seemed to flit around her, 
 still was it Memory in disguise. 
 
 The total change of affairs that ensued on the de 
 parture of the British troops did not drive the vener 
 able lady from her stronghold. There was not, for 
 many years afterwards, a Governor of Massachusetts ; 
 and the magistrates, who had charge of such matters, 
 saw no objection to Esther Dudley s residence in the 
 Province House, especially as they must otherwise 
 have paid a hireling for taking care of the premises, 
 which with her was a labor of love. And so they left 
 her the undisturbed mistress of the old historic edifice. 
 Many and strange were the fables which the gossips 
 whispered about her, in all the chimney corners of the 
 town. Among the time-worn articles of furniture that 
 had been left in the mansion there was a tall, antique 
 mirror, which was well worthy of a tale by itself, and 
 perhaps may hereafter be the theme of one. The gold 
 of its heavily-wrought frame was tarnished, and its 
 surface so blurred, that the old woman s figure, when 
 ever she paused before it, looked indistinct and ghost 
 like. But it was the general belief that Esther could 
 
334 TWICE-TOLD TALES. 
 
 cause the Governors of the overthrown dynasty, with 
 the beautiful ladies who had once adorned their festi 
 vals, the Indian chiefs who had come up to the Prov 
 ince House to hold council or swear allegiance, the 
 grim Provincial warriors, the severe clergymen in 
 short, all the pageantry of gone days all the figures 
 that ever swept across the broad plate of glass in 
 former times she could cause the whole to reappear, 
 and people the inner world of the mirror with shadows 
 of old life. Such legends as these, together with the 
 singularity of her isolated existence, her age, and the 
 infirmity that each added winter flung upon her, made 
 Mistress Dudley the object both of fear and pity ; and 
 it was partly the result of either sentiment that, amid 
 all the angry license of the times, neither wrong nor 
 insult ever fell upon her unprotected head. Indeed, 
 there was so much haughtiness in her demeanor to 
 wards intruders, among whom she reckoned all per 
 sons acting under the new authorities, that it was 
 really an affair of no small nerve to look her in the 
 face. And to do the people justice, stern republicans 
 as they had now become, they were well content that 
 the old gentlewoman, in her hoop petticoat arid faded 
 embroidery, should still haunt the palace of ruined 
 pride and overthrown power, the symbol of a departed 
 system, embodying a history in her person. So Esther 
 Dudley dwelt ysar after year in the Province House, 
 still reverencing all that others had flung aside, still 
 faithful to her King, who, so long as the venerable 
 dame yet held her post, might be said to retain one 
 true subject in New England, and one spot of the em 
 pire that had been wrested from him. 
 
 And did she dwell there in utter loneliness ? Rttmor 
 said, not so. Whenever her chill and withered heart 
 
OLD ESTHER DUDLEY. 335 
 
 desired warmth, she was wont to summon a black slave 
 of Governor Shirley s from the blurred mirror, and 
 send him in search of guests who had long ago been 
 familiar in those deserted chambers. Forth went the 
 sable messenger, with the starlight or the moonshine 
 gleaming through him, and did his errand in the burial 
 ground, knocking at the iron doors of tombs, or upon 
 the marble slabs that covered them, and whispering to 
 those within : 4 My mistress, old Esther Dudley, bids 
 you to the Province House at midnight." And punct- 
 uallv as the clock of the Old South told twelve came 
 the shadows of the Olivers, the Hutchinsons, the Dud 
 leys, all the grandees of a by-gone generation, gliding 
 beneath the portal into the well-known mansion, where 
 Esther mingled with them as if she likewise were a 
 shade. Without vouching for the truth of such tradi- 
 
 O 
 
 tions, it is certain that Mistress Dudley sometimes as 
 sembled a few of the stanch, though crestfallen, old 
 tories, who had lingered in the rebel town during those 
 days of wrath and tribulation. Out of a cob webbed 
 bottle, containing liquor that a royal Governor might 
 have smacked his lips over, they quaffed healths to 
 the King, and babbled treason to the Republic, feel 
 ing as if the protecting shadow of the throne were still 
 flung around them. But, draining the last drops of 
 their liquor, they stole timorously homeward, and an 
 swered not again if the rude mob reviled them in the 
 street. 
 
 Yet Esther Dudley s most frequent and favored 
 guests were the children of the town. Towards them 
 she was never stern. A kindly and loving nature, 
 hindered elsewhere from its free course by a thousand 
 rocky prejudices, lavished itself upon these little ones. 
 By bribes of gingerbread of her own making, stamped 
 
336 TWICE-TOLD TALES. 
 
 with a royal crown, she tempted their sunny sportive- 
 ness beneath the gloomy portal of the Province House, 
 and would often beguile them to spend a whole play- 
 day there, sitting in a circle round the verge of her 
 hoop petticoat, greedily attentive to her stories of a 
 dead world. And when these little boys and girls 
 stole forth again from the dark, mysterious mansion, 
 they went bewildered, full of old feelings that graver 
 people had long ago forgotten, rubbing their eyes at 
 the world around them as if they had gone astray into 
 ancient times, and become children of the past. At 
 home, when their parents asked where they had loi 
 tered such a weary while, and with whom they had 
 been at play, the children would talk of all the de 
 parted worthies of the Province, as far back as Gov 
 ernor Belcher and the haughty dame of Sir William 
 Phipps. It would seem as though they had been sit 
 ting on the knees of these famous personages, whom 
 the grave had hidden for half a century, and had toyed 
 with the embroidery of their rich waistcoats, or rogu 
 ishly pulled the long curls of their flowing wigs. 
 " But Governor Belcher has been dead this many a 
 year," would the mother say to her little boy. " And 
 did you really see him at the Province House ? " " Oh 
 yes, dear mother ! yes ! " the half -dreaming child would 
 answer. "But when old Esther had done speaking 
 about him he faded away out of his chair." Thus, 
 without affrighting her little guests, she led them by 
 the hand into the chambers of her own desolate heart, 
 and made childhood s fancv discern the ghosts that 
 haunted there. 
 
 Living so continually in her own circle of ideas, and 
 never regulating her mind by a proper reference* to 
 present things, Esther Dudley appears to have grown 
 
OLD ESTHER DUDLEY. 337 
 
 partially crazed. It was found that she had no right 
 sense of the progress and true state of the Revolution 
 ary War, but held a constant faith that the armies of 
 Britain were victorious on every field, and destined 
 to be ultimately triumphant. Whenever the town re 
 joiced for a battle won by Washington, or Gates, or 
 Morgan, or Greene, the news, in passing through the 
 door of the Province House, as through the ivory gate 
 of dreams, became metamorphosed into a strange tale 
 of the prowess of Howe, Clinton, or Cornwallis. 
 Sooner or later it was her invincible belief the colo 
 nies woidd be prostrate at the footstool of the King. 
 Sometimes she seemed to take for granted that such 
 was already the case. On one occasion, she startled 
 the towns-people by a brilliant illumination of the 
 Province House, with candles at even 7 pane of glass, 
 and a transparency of the King s initials and a crown 
 of light in the great balcony window. The figure of 
 the aged woman in the most gorgeous of her mildewed 
 velvets and brocades was seen passing from casement 
 to casement, until she paused before the balcony, and 
 flourished a huge key above her head. Her wrinkled 
 visage actually gleamed with triumph, as if the soid 
 within her were a festal lamp. 
 
 " What means this blaze of light ? What does old 
 Esther s joy portend?" whispered a spectator. "It 
 is frightful to see her gliding about the chambers, and 
 rejoicing there without a soul to bear her company." 
 
 " It is as if she were making merry in a tomb," 
 said another. 
 
 44 Pshaw ! It is no such mystery," observed an old 
 man, after some brief exercise of memory. " Mis 
 tress Dudley is keeping jubilee for the King of Eng 
 land s birthday." 
 
 VOL. i. 22 
 
TWICE-TOLD TALES. 
 
 Then the people laughed aloud, and would have 
 thrown mud against the blazing transparency of the 
 King s crown and initials, only that they pitied the 
 poor old dame, who was so dismally triumphant amid 
 the wreck and ruin of the system to which she apper 
 tained. 
 
 Oftentimes it was her custom to climb the weary 
 staircase that wound upward to the cupola, and thence 
 strain her dimmed eyesight seaward and countryward, 
 watching for a British fleet, or for the march of a 
 grand procession, with the King s banner floating over 
 it. The passengers in the street below would discern 
 her anxious visage, and send up a shout, " When the 
 golden Indian on the Province House shall shoot his 
 arrow, and when the cock on the Old South spire 
 shall crow, then look for a Royal Governor again ! " 
 for this had grown a byword through the town. 
 And at last, after long, long years, old Esther Dudley 
 knew, or perchance she only dreamed, that a Royal 
 Governor was on the eve of returning to the Province 
 House, to receive the heavy key which Sir William 
 Howe had committed to her charge. Now it was the 
 fact that intelligence bearing some faint analogy to 
 Esther s version of it was current among the towns 
 people. She set the mansion in the best order that 
 her means allowed, and, arraying herself in silks and 
 tarnished gold, stood long before the blurred mirror 
 to admire her own magnificence. As she gazed, the 
 gray and withered lady moved her ashen lips, mur 
 muring half aloud, talking to shapes that she saw 
 within the mirror, to shadows of her own fantasies, to 
 the household friends of memory, and bidding them 
 rejoice with her and come forth to meet the Governor. 
 And while absorbed in this communion, Mistress Dud- 
 
OLD ESTHER DUDLEY. 339 
 
 ley heard the tramp of many footsteps in the street, 
 and, looking out at the window, beheld what she con 
 strued as the Royal Governor s arrival. 
 
 " O happy day ! O blessed, blessed hour! " she ex 
 claimed. " Let me but bid him welcome within the 
 portal, and my task in the Province House, and on 
 earth, is done ! " 
 
 Then with tottering feet, which age and tremulous 
 joy caused to tread amiss, she hurried down the grand 
 staircase, her silks sweeping and rustling as she went, 
 so that the sound was as if a train of spectral courtiers 
 were thronging from the dim mirror. And Esther 
 Dudley fancied that as soon as the wide door should 
 be flung open, all the pomp and splendor of by-gone 
 times would pace majestically into the Province House, 
 and the gilded tapestry of the past would be bright 
 ened by the sunshine of the present. She turned the 
 key withdrew it from the lock unclosed the door 
 and stepped across the threshold. Advancing up 
 the court-yard appeared a person of most dignified 
 mien, with tokens, as Esther interpreted them, of gen 
 tle blood, high rank, and long-accustomed authority, 
 even in his walk and every gesture. He was richly 
 dressed, but wore a gouty shoe, which, however, did 
 not lessen the stateliness of his gait. Around and 
 behind him were people in plain civic dresses, and two 
 or three war-worn veterans, evidently officers of rank, 
 arrayed in a uniform of blue and buff. But Esther 
 Dudley, firm in the belief that had fastened its roots 
 about her heart, beheld only the principal personage, 
 and never doubted that this was the long-looked-for 
 Governor, to whom she was to surrender up her 
 charge. As he approached, she involuntary sank down 
 on her knees and tremblingly held forth the heavy 
 key. 
 
840 TWICE-TOLD TALES. 
 
 " Receive my trust ! take it quickly ! " cried she ; 
 " for methinks Death is striving to snatch away my 
 triumph. But he comes too late. Thank Heaven for 
 this blessed hour ! God save King George ! " 
 
 " That, Madam, is a strange prayer to be offered up 
 at such a moment," replied the unknown guest of the 
 Province House, and courteously removing his hat, he 
 offered his arm to raise the aged woman. " Yet, in 
 reverence for your gray hairs and long-kept faith, 
 Heaven forbid that any here should say you nay. 
 Over the realms which still acknowledge his sceptre, 
 God save King George ! " 
 
 Esther Dudley started to her feet, and hastily 
 clutching back the key, gazed with fearful earnestness 
 at the stranger ; and dimly and doubtfully, as if sud 
 denly awakened from a dream, her bewildered eyes 
 half recognized his face. Years ago she had known 
 him among the gentry of the province. But the ban 
 of the King had fallen upon him ! How, then, came 
 the doomed victim here ? Proscribed, excluded from 
 mercy, the monarch s most dreaded and hated foe, 
 this New England merchant had stood triumphantly 
 against a kingdom s strength ; and his foot now trod 
 upon humbled Royalty, as he ascended the steps of the 
 Province House, the people s chosen Governor of Mas 
 sachusetts. 
 
 " Wretch, wretch that I am ! " muttered the old 
 woman, with such a heart-broken expression that the 
 tears gushed from the stranger s eyes. " Have I bid 
 den a traitor welcome ? Come, Death ! come quickly ! 
 
 " Alas, venerable lady ! " said Governor Hancock, 
 lending her his support with all the reverence that a 
 courtier would have shown to a queen. " Your* life 
 has been prolonged until the world has changed 
 
OLD ESTHER DUDLEY. 341 
 
 around you. You have treasured up all that time has 
 rendered worthless the principles, feelings, man 
 ners, modes of being and acting, which another gen 
 eration has flung aside and you are a symbol of the 
 past. And I, and these around me we represent 
 a new race of men living no longer in the past, 
 scarcely in the present but projecting our lives for 
 ward into the future. Ceasing to model ourselves on 
 ancestral superstitions, it is our faith and principle to 
 press onward, onward ! Yet," continued he, turning 
 to his attendants, " let us reverence, for the last time, 
 the stately and gorgeous prejudices of the tottering 
 Past ! " 
 
 While the Eepublican Governor spoke, he had con 
 tinued to support the helpless form of Esther Dudley ; 
 her weight grew heavier against his arm ; but at last, 
 with a sudden effort to free herself, the ancient woman 
 sank down beside one of the pillars of the portal. 
 The key of the Province House fell from her grasp, 
 and clanked against the stone. 
 
 " I have been faithfid unto death," murmured she. 
 " God save the King \ " 
 
 44 She hath done her office ! " said Hancock solemnly. 
 " We will follow her reverently to the tomb of her an 
 cestors ; and then, my fellow-citizens, onward on 
 ward ! We are no longer children of the Past ! 
 
 As the old loyalist concluded his narrative, the en 
 thusiasm which had been fitfully flashing within his 
 sunken eyes, and quivering across his wrinkled visage, 
 faded away, as if all the lingering fire of his soul were 
 extinguished. Just then, too, a lamp upon the man 
 tel-piece threw out a dying gleam, which vanished as 
 
842 TWICE-TOLD TALES. 
 
 speedily as it shot upward, compelling our eyes to 
 grope for one another s features by the dim glow of 
 the hearth. With such a lingering fire, methought, 
 with such a dying gleam, had the glory of the ancient 
 system vanished from the Province House, when the 
 spirit of old Esther Dudley took its flight. And now, 
 again, the clock of the Old South threw its voice of 
 ages on the breeze, knolling the hourly knell of the 
 Past, crying out far and wide through the multitudi 
 nous city, and filling our ears, as we sat in the dusky 
 chamber, with its reverberating depth of tone. In 
 that same mansion in that very chamber what a 
 volume of history had been told off into hours, by the 
 same voice that was now trembling in the air. Many 
 a Governor had heard those midnight accents, and 
 longed to exchange his stately cares for slumber. And 
 as for mine host and Mr. Bela Tiffany and the old 
 loyalist and me, we had babbled about dreams of the 
 past, until we almost fancied that the clock was still 
 striking in a bygone century. Neither of us would 
 have wondered, had a hoop-petticoated phantom of 
 Esther Dudley tottered into the chamber, walking her 
 rounds in the hush of midnight, as of yore, and mo 
 tioned us to quench the fading embers of the fire, and 
 leave the historic precincts to herself and her kindred 
 shades. But as no such vision was vouchsafed, I re 
 tired unbidden, and would advise Mr. Tiffany to lay 
 hold of another auditor, being resolved not to show 
 my face in the Province House for a good while hence 
 if ever. 
 
 
 
THE HAUNTED MIND. 
 
 WHAT a singular moment is the first one, when you 
 have hardly begun to recollect yourself, after starting 
 from midnight slumber ? By unclosing your eyes so 
 suddenly, you seem to have surprised the personages 
 of your dream in full convocation round your bed, 
 and catch one broad glance at them before they can 
 flit into obscurity. Or, to vary the metaphor, you find 
 yourself, for a single instant, wide awake in that realm 
 of illusions, whither sleep has been the passport, and 
 behold its ghostly inhabitants and wondrous scenery, 
 with a perception of their strangeness such as you 
 never attain while the dream is undisturbed. The 
 distant sound of a church clock is borne faintly on the 
 wind. You question with yourself, half seriously, 
 whether it has stolen to your waking ear from some 
 gray tower that stood within the precincts of your 
 dream. While yet in suspense, another clock flings 
 its heavy clang over the slumbering town, with so full 
 and distinct a sound, and such a long murmur in the 
 neighboring air. that you are certain it must proceed 
 from the steeple at the nearest corner. You count 
 the strokes one two, and there they cease, with a 
 booming sound, like the gathering of a third stroke 
 within the bell. 
 
 If you could choose an hour of wakefulness out of 
 the whole night, it would be this. Since your sober 
 bedtime, at eleven, you have had rest enough to take 
 off the pressure of yesterday s fatigue ; w r hile before 
 
844 TWICE-TOLD TALES. 
 
 you, till the sun comes from " far Cathay " to brighten 
 your window, there is almost the space of a summer 
 night ; one hour to be spent in thought, with the 
 mind s eye half shut, and two in pleasant dreams, 
 and two in that strangest of enjoyments, the forget- 
 fulness alike of joy and woe. The moment of rising 
 belongs to another period of time, and appears so dis 
 tant that the plunge out of a warm bed into the frosty 
 air cannot yet be anticipated with dismay. Yesterday 
 has already vanished among the shadows of the past ; 
 to-morrow has not yet emerged from the future. You 
 have found an intermediate space, where the business 
 of life does not intrude ; where the passing moment 
 lingers, and becomes truly the present ; a spot where 
 Father Time, when he thinks nobody is watching him, 
 sits down by the wayside to take breath. Oh, that 
 he would fall asleep, and let mortals live on without 
 growing older ! 
 
 Hitherto you have lain perfectly still, because the 
 slightest motion would dissipate the fragments of your 
 slumber. Now, being irrevocably awake, you peep 
 through the half-drawn window curtain, and observe 
 that the glass is ornamented with fanciful devices in 
 frostwork, and that each pane presents something like 
 a frozen dream. There will be time enough to trace 
 out the analogy while waiting the summons to break 
 fast. Seen through the clear portion of the glass, 
 where the silvery mountain peaks of the frost scenery 
 do not ascend, the most conspicuous object is the stee 
 ple ; the white spire of which directs you to the wintry 
 lustre of the firmament. You may almost distinguish 
 the figures on the clock that has just told the hour. 
 Such a frosty sky, and the snow-covered roofs, and* the 
 long vista of the frozen street, all white, and the dis- 
 
THE HAUNTED MIND. 345 
 
 tant water hardened into rock, might make you shiver, 
 even under four blankets and a woollen comforter. 
 Yet look at that one glorious star ! Its beams are dis 
 tinguishable from all the rest, and actually cast the 
 shadow of the casement on the bed, with a radiance of 
 deeper hue than moonlight, though not so accurate an 
 outline. 
 
 You sink down and muffle your head in the clothes, 
 shivering all the while, but less from bodily chill than 
 the bare idea of a polar atmosphere. It is too cold 
 even for the thoughts to venture abroad. You specu 
 late on the luxury of wearing out a whole existence in 
 bed, like an oyster in its shell, content with the slug 
 gish ecstasy of inaction, and drowsily conscious of 
 nothing but delicious warmth, such as you now feel 
 again. Ah ! that idea has brought a hideous one in 
 its train. You think how the dead are lying in their 
 cold shrouds and narrow coffins, through the drear 
 winter of the grave, and cannot persuade your fancy 
 that they neither shrink nor shiver, when the snow is 
 drifting over their little hillocks, and the bitter blast 
 howls against the door of the tomb. That gloomy 
 thought will collect a gloomy multitude, and throw its 
 complexion over your wakeful hour. 
 
 In the depths of every heart there is a tomb and 
 a dungeon, though the lights, the music, and revelry 
 above may cause us to forget their existence, and the 
 buried ones, or prisoners, whom they hide. But some 
 times, and oftenest at midnight, these dark receptacles 
 are flung wide open. In an hour like this, when the 
 mind has a passive sensibility, but no active strength ; 
 when the imagination is a mirror, imparting vividness 
 to all ideas, without the power of selecting or control 
 ling them ; then pray that your griefs may slumber, 
 
346 TWICE-TOLD TALES. 
 
 and the brotherhood of remorse not break their chain. 
 It is too late ! A funeral train comes gliding by your 
 bed, in which Passion and Feeling assume bodily 
 shape, and things of the mind become dim spectres to 
 the eye. There is your earliest Sorrow, a pale young 
 mourner, wearing a sister s likeness to first love, sadly 
 beautiful, with a hallowed sweetness in her melan 
 choly features, and grace in the flow of her sable robe. 
 Next appears a shade of ruined loveliness, with dust 
 among her golden hair, and her bright garments all 
 faded and defaced, stealing from your glance with 
 drooping head, as fearful of reproach ; she was your 
 fondest Hope, but a delusive one ; so call her Disap 
 pointment now. A sterner form succeeds, with a brow 
 of wrinkles, a look and gesture of iron authority; 
 there is no name for him unless it be Fatality, an em 
 blem of the evil influence that rules your fortunes ; a 
 demon to whom you subjected yourself by some error 
 at the outset of life, and were bound his slave forever, 
 by once obeying him. See ! those fiendish lineaments 
 graven on the darkness, the writhed lip of scorn, the 
 mockery of that living eye, the pointed finger, touch 
 ing the sore place in your heart ! Do you remember 
 any act of enormous folly at which you would blush, 
 even in the remotest cavern of the earth ? Then rec 
 ognize your Shame. 
 
 Pass, wretched band ! Well for the wakeful one, if, 
 riotously miserable, a fiercer tribe do not surround 
 him, the devils of a guilty heart, that holds its hell 
 within itself. What if Remorse should assume the 
 features of an injured friend? What if the fiend 
 should come in woman s garments, with a pale beauty 
 amid sin and desolation, and lie down by your slcle ? 
 What if he should stand at your bed s foot, in the 
 
THE HAUNTED MIND. 347 
 
 likeness of a corpse, with a bloody stain upon the 
 shroud ? Sufficient, without such guilt, is this night 
 mare of the soul ; this heavy, heavy sinking of the 
 spirits ; this wintry gloom about the heart ; this indis 
 tinct horror of the mind, blending itself with the dark 
 ness of the chamber. 
 
 By a desperate effort you start upright, breaking 
 from a sort of conscious sleep, and gazing wildly 
 round the bed, as if the fiends were anywhere but in 
 your haunted mind. At the same moment, the slum 
 bering embers on the hearth send forth a gleam which 
 palely illuminates the whole outer room, and flickers 
 through the door of the bed-chamber, but cannot 
 quite dispel its obscurity. Your eye searches for 
 whatever may remind you of the living world. With 
 eager minuteness you take note of the table near the 
 fireplace, the book with an ivory knife between its 
 leaves, the unfolded letter, the hat, and the fallen 
 glove. Soon the flame vanishes, and with it the whole 
 scene is gone, though its image remains an instant in 
 your mind s eye, when darkness has swallowed the 
 reality. Throughout the chamber there is the same 
 obscurity as before, but not the same gloom within 
 your breast. As your head falls back upon the pil 
 low, you think in a whisper be it spoken how 
 pleasant, in these night solitudes, would be the rise 
 and fall of a softer breathing than your own, the 
 slight pressure of a tenderer bosom, the quiet throb 
 of a purer heart, imparting its peacefidness to your 
 troubled one, as if the fond sleeper were involving 
 you in her dream. 
 
 Her influence is over you, though she have no exist 
 ence but in that momentary image. You sink down in 
 a flowery spot, on the borders of sleep and wakeful- 
 
348 TWICE-TOLD TALES. 
 
 ness, while your thoughts rise before you in pictures, 
 all disconnected, yet all assimilated by a pervading 
 gladsomeness and beauty. The wheeling of gorgeous 
 squadrons that glitter in the sun is succeeded by the 
 merriment of children round the door of a school- 
 house, beneath the glimmering shadow of old trees, at 
 the corner of a rustic lane. You stand in the sunny 
 rain of a summer shower, and wander among the sunny 
 trees of an autumnal wood, and look upward at the 
 brightest of all rainbows, overarching the unbroken 
 sheet of snow, on the American side of Niagara. Your 
 mind struggles pleasantly between the dancing radi 
 ance round the hearth of a young man and his recent 
 bride, and the twittering flight of birds in spring 
 about their new-made nest. You feel the merry bound 
 ing of a ship before the breeze, and watch the tuneful 
 feet of rosy girls as they twine their last and merriest 
 dance in a splendid ball-room, and find yourself in the 
 brilliant circle of a crowded theatre as the curtain falls 
 over a light and airy scene. 
 
 With an involuntary start you seize hold on con 
 sciousness, and prove yourself but half awake, by run 
 ning a doubtful parallel between human life and the 
 hour which has now elapsed. In both you emerge from 
 mystery, pass through a vicissitude that you can but 
 imperfectly control, and are borne onward to another 
 mystery. Now comes the peal of the distant clock, 
 with fainter and fainter strokes as you plunge farther 
 into the wilderness of sleep. It is the knell of a tem 
 porary death. Your spirit has departed, and strays, 
 like a free citizen, among the people of a shadowy 
 world, beholding strange sights, yet without wonder or 
 dismay. So calm, perhaps, will be the final change; so 
 undisturbed, as if among familiar things the entrance 
 of the soul to its Eternal home ! 
 
THE VILLAGE UNCLE. 
 
 AX IMAGINARY RETROSPECT. 
 
 COME ! another log upon the hearth. True, our lit 
 tle parlor is comfortable, especially here, where the old 
 man sits in his old arm-chair ; but on Thanksgiving 
 night the blaze should dance higher up the chimney, 
 and send a shower of sjfarks into the outer darkness. 
 Toss on an armful of those dry oak chips, the last rel 
 ics of the Mermaid s knee timbers, the bones of your 
 namesake, Susan. Higher yet, and clearer be the 
 blaze, till our cottage windows glow the ruddiest in 
 the village, and the light of our household mirth flash 
 far across the bay to Nahant. And now, come, Susan, 
 come, my children, draw your chairs round me, all of 
 you. There is a dimness over your figures ! You sit 
 quivering indistinctly with each motion of the blaze, 
 which eddies about you like a flood, so that you all 
 have the look of visions, or people that dwell only in the 
 firelight, and will vanish from existence as completely 
 as your own shadows when the flame shall sink among 
 the embers. Hark ! let me listen for the swell of the 
 surf ; it should be audible a mile inland on a night 
 like this. Yes ; there I catch the sound, but only an 
 uncertain murmur, as if a good way down over the 
 beach ; though, by the almanac, it is high tide at eight 
 o clock, and the billows must now be dashing within 
 thirty yards of our door. Ah ! the old man s ears are 
 failing him ; and so is his eyesight, and perhaps his 
 
350 TWICE-TOLD TALES. 
 
 mind ; else you would not all be so shadowy in the 
 blaze of his Thanksgiving fire. 
 
 How strangely the past is peeping over the shoulders 
 of the present ! To judge by my recollections, it is 
 but a few moments since I sat in another room ; yonder 
 model of a vessel was not there, nor the old chest of 
 drawers, nor Susan s profile and mine, in that gilt 
 frame ; nothing, in short, except this same fire, which 
 glimmered on books, papers, and a picture, and half 
 discovered my solitary figure in a looking-glass. But 
 it was paler than my rugged old self, and younger, too, 
 by almost half a century. Speak to me, Susan ; speak, 
 my beloved ones ; for the scene is glimmering on my 
 sight again, and as it brightens you fade away. Oh, 
 I should be loath to lose my treasure of past happiness, 
 and become once more what I was then ; a hermit in 
 the depths of my own mind ; sometimes yawning over 
 drowsy volumes, and anon a scribbler of wearier trash 
 than what I read ; a man who had wandered out of the 
 real world and got into its shadow, where his troubles, 
 joys, and vicissitudes were of such slight stuff that he 
 hardly knew whether he lived, or only dreamed of liv 
 ing. Thank Heaven, I am an old man now, and have 
 done with all such vanities. 
 
 Still this dimness of mine eyes ! Come nearer, Susan, 
 and stand before the fullest blaze of the hearth. Now 
 I behold you illuminated from head to foot, in your 
 clean cap and decent gown, with the dear lock of gray 
 hair across your forehead, and a quiet smile about your 
 mouth, while the eyes alone are concealed by the red 
 gleam of the fire upon your spectacles. There, you 
 made me tremble again \ When the flame quivered, 
 my sweet Susan, you quivered with it, and grew indis 
 tinct, as if melting into the warm light, that my last 
 
THE VILLAGE UNCLE. 351 
 
 glimpse of you might be as visionary as the first was, 
 full many a year since. Do you remember it ? You 
 stood on the little bridge over the brook that runs 
 across King s Beach into the sea. It was twilight ; 
 the waves rolling in, the wind sweeping by, the crim 
 son clouds fading in the west, and the silver moon 
 brightening above the hill; and on the bridge were 
 you, fluttering in the breeze like a sea-bird that might 
 skim away at your pleasure. You seemed a daughter 
 of the viewless wind, a creature of the ocean foam and 
 the crimson light, whose merry life was spent in dan 
 cing on the crests of the billows, that threw up their 
 spray to support your footsteps. As I drew nearer I 
 fancied you akin to the race of mermaids, and thought 
 how pleasant it would be to dwell with you among the 
 quiet coves, in the shadow of the cliffs, and to roam 
 along secluded beaches of the purest sand ; and when 
 our northern shores grew bleak, to haunt the islands, 
 green and lonely, far amid summer seas. And yet it 
 gladdened me, after all this nonsense, to find you noth 
 ing but a pretty young girl, sadly perplexed with the 
 rude behavior of the wind about your petticoats. 
 
 Thus I did with Susan as with most other things in 
 my earlier days, dipping her image into my mind and 
 coloring it of a thousand fantastic hues, before I could 
 see her as she really was. Now, Susan, for a sober 
 picture of our village ! It was a small collection of 
 dwellings that seemed to have been cast up by the sea, 
 with the rockweed and marine plants that it vomits 
 after a storm, or to have come ashore among the pipe 
 staves and other lumber which had been washed from 
 the deck of an eastern schooner. There was just 
 space for the narrow and sandy street, between the 
 beach in front and a precipitous hill that lifted its 
 
352 TWICE-TOLD TALES. 
 
 rocky forehead in the rear, among a waste of juniper 
 bushes and the wild growth of a broken pasture. The 
 village was picturesque in the variety of its edifices, 
 though all were rude. Here stood a little old hovel, 
 built perhaps of driftwood ; there a row of boat-houses ; 
 and beyond them a two-story dwelling, of dark and 
 weather-beaten aspect, the whole intermixed with one 
 or two snug cottages, painted white, a sufficiency of 
 pigsties, and a shoemaker s shop. Two grocery stores 
 stood opposite each other, in the centre of the village. 
 These were the places of resort, at their idle hours, of 
 a hardy throng of fishermen, in red baize shirts, oil 
 cloth trousers, and boots of brown leather covering the 
 whole leg ; true seven-league boots, but fitter to wade 
 the ocean than walk the earth. The wearers seemed 
 amphibious, as if they did but creep out of salt water 
 to sun themselves ; nor would it have been wonderful 
 to see their lower limbs covered with clusters of little 
 shell-fish, such as cling to rocks and old ship timber 
 over which the tide ebbs and flows. When their fleet 
 of boats was weather-bound, the butchers raised their 
 price, and the spit was busier than the frying-pan : 
 for this was a place of fish, and known as such, to all 
 the country round about ; the very air was fishy, being 
 perfumed with dead sculpins, hardheads, and dogfish 
 strewn plentifully on the beach. You see, children, 
 the village is but little changed since your mother 
 and I were young. 
 
 How like a dream it was, when I bent over a pool 
 of water one pleasant morning, and saw that the ocean 
 had dashed its spray over me and made me a fisher 
 man ! There were the tarpauling, the baize shirt, the 
 oil cloth trousers and seven-league boots, and there my 
 own features, but so reddened with sunburn and 
 
THE VILLAGE UNCLE. 
 
 breezes, that methought I had another face, and on 
 other shoulders too. The sea-gulls and the loons and 
 I had now all one trade ; we skimmed the crested 
 waves and sought our prey beneath them, the man 
 with as keen enjoyment as the birds. Always, when 
 the east grew purple, I launched my dory, my little 
 flat-bottomed skiff, and rowed cross-handed to Point 
 Ledge, the Middle Ledge, or, perhaps beyond Egg 
 Rock : often, too, did I anchor off Dread Ledge, a spot 
 of peril to ships unpiloted ; and sometimes spread an 
 adventurous sail and tracked across the bay to South 
 Shore, casting my lines in sight of Scituate. Ere 
 nightfall, I hauled my skiff high and dry on the beach, 
 laden with red rock cod, or the white-bellied ones of 
 deep water ; haddock, bearing the black marks of Saint 
 Peter s ringers near the gills ; the long-bearded hake, 
 whose liver holds oil enough for a midnight lamp ; and 
 now and then a mighty halibut, with a back broad as 
 my boat. In the autumn, I tolled and caught those 
 lovely fish, the mackerel. When the wind was high, 
 when the whale-boats, anchored off the Point, 
 nodded their slender masts at each other, and the do 
 ries pitched and tossed in the surf, when Xahant 
 Beach was thundering three miles off, and the spray 
 broke a hundred feet in air round the distant base of 
 Egg Rock, when the brimful and boisterous sea 
 threatened to tumble over the street of our village, 
 then I made a holiday on shore. 
 
 Many such a day did I sit snugly in Mr. Bartlett s 
 store, attentive to the yarns of Uncle Parker ; uncle to 
 the whole village by right of seniority, but of southern 
 blood, with no kindred in New England. His figure 
 is before me now, enthroned upon a mackerel barrel : 
 a lean old man, of great height, but bent with years, 
 
 VOL. i. 23 
 
354 TWICE-TOLD TALES. 
 
 and twisted into an uncouth shape by seven broken 
 limbs ; furrowed also, and weather-worn, as if every 
 gale, for the better part of a century, had caught him 
 somewhere on the sea. He looked like a harbinger 
 of tempest ; a shipmate of the Flying Dutchman. 
 After innumerable voyages aboard men-of-war and 
 merchant-men, fishing schooners and chebacco boats, 
 the old salt had become master of a handcart, which 
 he daily trundled about the vicinity, and sometimes 
 blew his fish-horn through the streets of Salem. One 
 of Uncle Parker s eyes had been blown out with gun 
 powder, and the other did but glimmer in its socket. 
 Turning it upward as he spoke, it was his delight to 
 tell of cruises against the French, and battles with his 
 own shipmates, when he and an antagonist used to be 
 seated astride of a sailor s chest, each fastened down 
 by a spike nail through his trousers, and there to 
 fight it out. Sometimes he expatiated on the delicious 
 flavor of the hagden, a greasy and goose-like fowl, 
 which the sailors catch with hook and line on the 
 Grand Banks. He dwelt with rapture on an inter 
 minable winter at the Isle of Sables, where he had 
 gladdened himself, amid polar snows, with the rum 
 and sugar saved from the wreck of a West India 
 schooner. And wrathfully did he shake his fist, as 
 he related how a party of Cape Cod men had robbed 
 him and his companions of their lawful spoil, and 
 sailed away with every keg of old Jamaica, leaving 
 him not a drop to drown his sorrow. Villains they 
 were, and of that wicked brotherhood who are said to 
 tie lanterns to horses tails, to mislead the mariner 
 along the dangerous shores of the Cape. 
 
 Even now, I seem to see the group of fisherman, 
 with that old salt in the midst. One fellow sits on 
 
THE VILLAGE UNCLE. 355 
 
 the counter, a second bestrides an oil barrel, a third 
 lolls at his length on a parcel of new cod lines, and 
 another has planted the tarry seat of his trousers on a 
 heap of salt, which will shortly be sprinkled over a lot 
 of fish. They are a likely set of men. Some have 
 voyaged to the East Indies or the Pacific, and most of 
 them have sailed in Marblehead schooners to New 
 foundland ; a few have been no farther than the Mid 
 dle Banks, and one or two have always fished along 
 the shore ; but, as Uncle Parker used to say, they have 
 all been christened in salt water, and know more than 
 men ever learn in the bushes. A curious figure, by 
 way of contrast, is a fish dealer from far-up country, 
 listening with eyes wide open to narratives that might 
 startle Sinbad the Sailor. Be it well with you, my 
 brethren ! Ye are all gone, some to your graves ashore, 
 and others to the depths of ocean ; but my faith is 
 strong that ye are happy ; for whenever I behold your 
 forms, whether in dream or vision, each departed 
 friend is puffing his long nine, and a mug of the right 
 black strap goes round from lip to lip. 
 
 But where was the mermaid in those delightful 
 times? At a certain window near the centre of the 
 village appeared a pretty display of gingerbread men 
 and horses, picture-books and ballads, small fish 
 hooks, pins, needles, sugar-plums, and brass thimbles, 
 articles on which the young fishermen used to expend 
 their money from pure gallantry. What a picture was 
 Susan behind the counter! A slender maiden, though 
 the child of rugged parents, she had the slimmest of 
 all waists, brown hair curling on her neck, and a com 
 plexion rather pale, except when the sea-breeze flushed 
 it. A few freckles became beauty-spots beneath her 
 eyelids. How was it, Susan, that you talked and acted 
 
356 TWICE-TOLD TALES. 
 
 so carelessly, yet always for the best, doing whatever 
 was right in your own eyes, and never once doing 
 wrong in mine, nor shocked a taste that had been mor 
 bidly sensitive till now ? And whence had you that 
 happiest gift of brightening every topic with an un 
 sought gayety, quiet but irresistible, so that even 
 gloomy spirits felt your sunshine, and did not shrink 
 from it ? Nature wrought the charm. She made you 
 a frank, simple, kind-hearted, sensible, and mirthful 
 girl. Obeying nature, you did free things without 
 indelicacy, displayed a maiden s thoughts to every eye, 
 and proved yourself as innocent as naked Eve. 
 
 It was beautiful to observe how her simple and 
 happy nature mingled itself with mine. She kindled a 
 domestic fire within my heart, and took up her dwell 
 ing there, even in that chill and lonesome cavern, 
 hung round with glittering icicles of fancy. She gave 
 me warmth of feeling, while the influence of my mind 
 made her contemplative. I taught her to love the 
 moonlight hour, when the expanse of the encircled 
 bay was smooth as a great mirror and slept in a trans 
 parent shadow ; while beyond Nahant the wind rippled 
 the dim ocean into a dreamy brightness, which grew 
 faint afar off without becoming gloomier. I held her 
 hand and pointed to the long surf wave, as it rolled 
 calmly on the beach, in an unbroken line of silver ; 
 we were silent together till its deep and peaceful mur 
 mur had swept by us. When the Sabbath sun shone 
 down into the recesses of the cliffs, I led the mermaid 
 thither, and told her that those huge, gray, shattered 
 rocks, and her native sea, that raged forever like a 
 storm against them, and her own slender beauty in 
 so stern a scene, were all combined into a strati of 
 poetry. But on the Sabbath eve, when her mother 
 
THE VILLAGE UNCLE. 357 
 
 had gone early to bed, and her gentle sister had smiled 
 and left us, as we sat alone by the quiet hearth, with 
 household things around, it was her turn to make me 
 feel that here was a deeper poetry, and that this was 
 the dearest hour of all. Thus went on our wooing till 
 I had shot wild fowl enough to feather our bridal bed, 
 and the Daughter of the Sea was mine. 
 
 I built a cottage for Susan and myself, and made a 
 gateway in the form of a Gothic arch, by setting up a 
 whale s jaw-bones. TTe bought a heifer with her first 
 calf, and had a little garden on the hill-side, to supply 
 us with potatoes and green sauce for our fish. Our 
 parlor, small and neat, was ornamented with our two 
 profiles in one gilt frame, and with shells and pretty 
 pebbles on the mantel-piece, selected from the sea s 
 treasury of such things, on Xahant Beach. On the 
 desk, beneath the looking-glass, lay the Bible, which I 
 had begun to read aloud at the book of Genesis, and 
 the singing-book that Susan used for her evening 
 psalm. Except the almanac, we had no other litera 
 ture. All that I heard of books was when an Indian 
 history, or tale of shipwreck, was sold by a pedlar or 
 wandering subscription man, to some one in the vil 
 lage, and read through its owner s nose to a slumber 
 ous auditory. Like my brother fishermen, I grew into 
 the belief that all human erudition was collected in 
 our pedagogue, whose green spectacles and solemn 
 phiz, as he passed to his little school-house amid a 
 waste of sand, might have gained him a diploma from 
 any college in New England. In truth I dreaded him. 
 When our children were old enough to claim his care, 
 you remember, Susan, how I frowned, though you 
 were pleased, at this learned man s encomiums on 
 their proficiency. I feared to trust them even with 
 the alphabet ; it was the key to a fatal treasure. 
 
858 TWICE-TOLD TALES. 
 
 But I loved to lead them by their little hands along 
 the beach, and point to nature in the vast and the 
 minute, the sky, the sea, the green earth, the pebbles, 
 and the shells. Then did I discourse of the mighty 
 works and coextensive goodness of the Deity, with the 
 simple wisdom of a man whose mind had profited by 
 lonely days upon the deep, and his heart by the strong 
 and pure affections of his evening home. Sometimes 
 my voice lost itself in a tremulous depth ; for I felt 
 His eye upon me as I spoke. Once, while my wife 
 and all of us were gazing at ourselves, in the mirror 
 left by the tide in a hollow of the sand, I pointed to 
 the pictured heaven below, and bade her observe how 
 religion was strewn everywhere in our path ; since 
 even a casual pool of water recalled, the idea of that 
 home whither we were travelling, to rest forever with 
 our children. Suddenly, your image, Susan, and all 
 the little faces made up of yours and mine, seemed to 
 fade away and vanish around me, leaving a pale visage 
 like my own of former days within the frame of a 
 large looking-glass. Strange illusion ! 
 
 My life glided on, the past appearing to mingle 
 with the present and absorb the future, till the whole 
 lies before me at a glance. My manhood has long 
 been waning with a stanch decay ; my earlier contem 
 poraries, after lives of unbroken health, are all at rest, 
 without having known the weariness of later age ; and 
 now, with a wrinkled forehead and thin white hair as 
 badges of my dignity, I have become the patriarch, 
 the Uncle of the village. I love that name ; it wid 
 ens the circle of my sympathies ; it joins all the youth 
 ful to my household in the kindred of affection. 
 
 Like Uncle Parker, whose rheumatic bones were 
 dashed against Egg Rock, full forty years ago, I am 
 
THE VILLAGE UNCLE. 359 
 
 a spinner of long yarns. Seated on the gunwale of a 
 dory, or on the sunny side of a boat-house, where the 
 warmth is grateful to my limbs, or by my own hearth, 
 when a friend or two are there, I overflow with talk, 
 and yet am never tedious. With a broken voice I 
 give utterance to much wisdom. Such, Heaven be 
 praised ! is the vigor of my facidties, that many a for 
 gotten usage, and traditions ancient in my youth, and 
 early adventures of myself or others, hitherto effaced 
 by things more recent, acquire new distinctness in my 
 memory. I remember the happy days when the had 
 dock were more numerous on all the fishing grounds 
 than sculpins in the surf; when the deep-water cod 
 swam close in shore, and the dogfish, with his poison 
 ous horn, had not learned to take the hook. I can 
 number every equinoctial storm in which the sea has 
 overwhelmed the street, flooded the cellars of the vil 
 lage, and hissed upon our kitchen hearth. I give the 
 history of the great whale that was landed on Whale 
 Beach, and whose jaws, being now my gateway, will 
 last for ages after my coffin shall have passed beneath 
 them. Thence it is- an easy digression to the halibut, 
 scarcely smaller than the whale, which ran out six cod 
 lines, and hauled my dory to the mouth of Boston Har 
 bor, before I could touch him with the gaff. 
 
 If melancholy accidents be the theme of conversa 
 tion, I tell how a friend of mine was taken out of his 
 boat by an enormous shark ; and the sad, true tale of 
 a young man on the eve of marriage, who had been 
 nine days missing, when his drowned body floated into 
 the very pathway, on Marblehead Neck, that had often 
 led him to the dwelling of his bride, as if the drip 
 ping corpse would have come where the mourner was. 
 With such awful fidelity did that lover return to fulfil 
 
360 TWICE-TOLD TALES. 
 
 his vows ! Another favorite story is of a crazy maiden 
 who conversed with angels and had the gift of proph 
 ecy, and whom all the village loved and pitied, though 
 she went from door to door accusing us of sin, exhort 
 ing to repentance, and foretelling our destruction by 
 flood or earthquake. If the young men boast their 
 knowledge of the ledges and sunken rocks, I speak of 
 pilots who knew the wind by its scent and the wave 
 by its taste, and could have steered blindfold to any 
 port between Boston and Mount Desert, guided only 
 by the rote of the shore, the peculiar sound of the 
 surf on each island, beach, and line of rocks, along 
 the coast. Thus do I talk, and all my auditors grow 
 wise while they deem it pastime. 
 
 I recollect no happier portion of my life than this, 
 my calm old age. It is like the sunny and sheltered 
 slope of a valley, where, late in the autumn, the grass 
 is greener than in August, and intermixed with golden 
 dandelions that have not been seen till now, since the 
 first warmth of the year. But with me the verdure 
 and the flowers are not frost-bitten in the midst of win 
 ter. A playfulness has revisited my mind ; a sympa 
 thy with the young and gay ; an unpainful interest in 
 the business of others ; a light and wandering curi 
 osity ; arising, perhaps, from the sense that my toil on 
 earth is ended, and the brief hour till bedtime may 
 be spent in play. Still I have fancied that there is a 
 depth of feeling and reflection under -this -superficial 
 levity peculiar to one who has lived long and is soon 
 to die. 
 
 Show me anything that would make an infant 
 smile, and you shall behold a gleam of mirth over the 
 hoary ruin of my visage. I can spend a pleasant hour 
 in the sun, watching the sports of the village children 
 
THE VILLAGE UNCLE. 361 
 
 on the edge of the surf : now they chase the retreat 
 ing wave far down over the wet sand ; now it steals 
 softly up to kiss their naked feet ; now it comes on 
 ward with threatening front, and roars after the laugh 
 ing crew, as they scamper beyond its reach. "Why 
 should not an old man be merry too, when the great 
 sea is at play with those little children ? I delight, 
 also, to follow in the wake of a pleasure party of young 
 men and girls, strolling along the beach after an early 
 supper at the Point. Here, with handkerchiefs at 
 nose, they bend over a heap of eel-grass, entangled in 
 which is a dead skate, so oddly accoutred with two 
 legs and a long tail that they mistake him for a 
 drowned animal. A few steps farther the ladies 
 scream, and the gentlemen make ready to protect 
 them against a young shark of the dogfish kind, roll 
 ing with a lifelike motion in the tide that has thrown 
 him up. Next, they are smit with wonder at the black 
 shells of a wagon load of live lobsters, packed in rock- 
 weed for the country market. And when they reach 
 the fleet of dories, just haided ashore after the day s 
 fishing, how do I laugh in my sleeve, and sometimes 
 roar outright, at the simplicity of these young folks 
 and the sly humor of the fishermen ! In winter, 
 when our village is thrown into a bustle by the arrival 
 of perhaps a score of country dealers, bargaining for 
 frozen fish, to be transported hundreds of miles, and 
 eaten fresh in Vermont or Canada, I am a pleased but 
 idle spectator in the throng. For I launch my boat 
 no more. 
 
 When the shore was solitary I have found a pleas 
 ure that seemed even to exalt my mind, in observing 
 the sports or contentions of two gulls, as they wheeled 
 and hovered about each other, with hoarse screams, 
 
362 TWICE-TOLD TALES. 
 
 one moment flapping on the foam of the wave, and 
 then soaring aloft, till their white bosoms melted into 
 the upper sunshine. In the calm of the summer sun 
 set I drag my aged limbs, with a little ostentation of 
 activity, because I am so old, up to the rocky brow of 
 the hill. There I see the white sails of many a ves 
 sel, outward bound or homeward from afar, and the 
 black trail of a vapor behind the eastern steamboat ; 
 there, too, is the sun going down, but not in gloom, 
 and there the illimitable ocean mingling with the sky, 
 to remind me of Eternity. 
 
 But sweetest of all is the hour of cheerful musing 
 and pleasant talk, that comes between the dusk and 
 the lighted candle, by my glowing fireside. And never, 
 even on the first Thanksgiving night, when Susan and 
 I sat alone with our hopes, nor the second, when a 
 stranger had been sent to gladden us, and be the visi 
 ble image of our affection, did I feel such joy as now. 
 All that belong to me are here ; Death has taken none, 
 nor Disease kept them away, nor Strife divided them 
 from their parents or each other ; with neither poverty 
 nor riches to disturb them, nor the misery of desires 
 beyond their lot, they have kept New England s festi 
 val round the patriarch s board. For I am a patriarch! 
 Here I sit among my descendants, in my old arm-chair 
 and immemorial corner, while the firelight throws an 
 appropriate glory round my venerable frame. Susan ! 
 My children ! Something whispers me that this hap 
 piest hour must be the final one, and that nothing re 
 mains but to bless you all, and depart with a treasure 
 of recollected joys to heaven. Will you meet me 
 there ? Alas ! your figures grow indistinct, fading into 
 pictures on the air, and now to fainter outlines, while 
 the fire is glimmering on the walls of a familiar room, 
 
THE VILLAGE UNCLE. 363 
 
 and shows the book that I flung down, and the sheet 
 that I left half written, some fifty years ago. I lift 
 my eyes to the looking-glass and perceive myself alone, 
 unless those be the mermaid s features retiring into 
 the depths of the mirror with a tender and melancholy 
 smile. 
 
 Ah ! one feels a dullness, not bodily, but about the 
 heart, and, moreover, a foolish dread of looking behind 
 him, after these pastimes. I can imagine precisely 
 how a magician would sit down in gloom and terror, 
 after dismissing the shadows that had personated dead 
 or distant people, and stripping his cavern of the un 
 real splendor which had changed it to a palace. And 
 now for a moral to my reverie. Shall it be that, since 
 fancy can create so bright a dream of happiness, it 
 were better to dream on from youth to age, than to 
 awake and strive doubtfully for something real. Oh, 
 the slight tissue of a dream can no more preserve us 
 from the stern reality of misfortune than a robe of 
 cobweb could repel the wintry blast. Be this the 
 moral then. In chaste and warm affections, humble 
 wishes, and honest toil for some useful end, there is 
 health for the mind, and quiet for the heart, the pros 
 pect of a happy life, and the fairest hope of heaven. 
 
THE AMBITIOUS GUEST. 
 
 ONE September night a fami]/ had gathered round 
 their hearth, and piled it high with the driftwood of 
 mountain streams, the dry cones of the pine, and the 
 splintered ruins of great trees that had come crashing 
 down the precipice. Up the chimney roared the fire r 
 and brightened the room with its broad blaze. The 
 faces of the father and mother had a sober gladness ; 
 the children laughed ; the eldest daughter was the 
 image of Happiness at seventeen ; and the aged grand 
 mother, who sat knitting in the warmest place, was the 
 image of Happiness grown old. They had found the 
 " herb, heart s-ease," in the bleakest spot of all New 
 England. This family were situated in the Notch of 
 the White Hills, where the wind was sharp throughout 
 the year, and pitilessly cold in the winter, giving 
 their cottage all its fresh inclemency before it de 
 scended on the valley of the Saco. They dwelt in a 
 cold spot and a dangerous one ; for a mountain tow 
 ered above their heads, so steep, that the stones would 
 often rumble down its sides and startle them at mid 
 night. 
 
 The daughter had just uttered some simple jest tha i 
 filled them all with mirth, when the wind came through 
 the Notch and seemed to pause before their cottage 
 rattling the door, with a sound of wailing and lamen 
 tation, before it passed into the valley. For a moment 
 it saddened them, though there was nothing unusual in 
 the tones. But the family were glad again when they 
 
THE AMBITIOUS GUEST. 365 
 
 perceived that the latch was lifted by some traveller, 
 whose footsteps had been unheard amid the dreary 
 blast which heralded his approach, and wailed as he 
 was entering, and went moaning away from the door. 
 
 Though they dwelt in such a solitude, these people 
 held daily converse with the world. The romantic pass 
 of the Notch is a great artery, through which the life- 
 blood of internal commerce is continually throbbing 
 between Maine, on one side, and the Green Mountains 
 and the shores of the St. Lawrence, on the other. The 
 stage-coach always drew up before the door of the 
 cottage. The wayfarer, with no companion but his 
 staff, paused here to exchange a word, that the sense 
 of loneliness might not utterly overcome him ere he 
 could pass through the cleft of the mountain, or reach 
 the first house in the valley. And here the teamster, 
 on his way to Portland market, woidd put up for the 
 night ; and, if a bachelor, might sit an hour beyond 
 the usual bedtime, and steal a kiss from the mountain 
 maid at parting. It was one of those primitive tav 
 erns where the traveller pays only for food and lodg 
 ing, but meets with a homely kindness beyond all price. 
 When the footsteps were heard, therefore, between the 
 outer door and the inner one, the whole family rose up, 
 grandmother, children, and all, as if about to welcome 
 some one who belonged to them, and whqse fate was 
 linked with theirs. 
 
 The door was opened by a young man. His face at 
 first wore the melancholy expression, almost despond 
 ency, of one who travels a wild and bleak road, at 
 nightfall and alone, but soon brightened up when he 
 saw the kindly warmth of his reception. He felt his 
 heart spring forward to meet them all, from the old 
 woman, who wiped a chair with her apron, to the little 
 
TWICE-TOLD TALES. 
 
 child that held out its arms to him. One glance and 
 smile placed the stranger on a footing of innocent 
 familiarity with the eldest daughter. 
 
 " Ah, this fire is the right thing ! " cried he; "espe 
 cially when there is such a pleasant circle round it. I 
 am quite benumbed ; for the Notch is just like the 
 pipe of a great pair of bellows ; it has blown a terrible 
 blast in my face all the way from Bartlett." 
 
 " Then you are going towards Vermont ? " said the 
 master of the house, as he helped to take a light knap 
 sack off the young man s shoulders. 
 
 " Yes ; to Burlington, and far enough beyond," re 
 plied he. " I meant to have been at Ethan Crawford s 
 to-night; but a pedestrian lingers along such a road as 
 this. It is no matter ; for, when I saw this good fire, 
 and all your cheerful faces, I felt as if you had kindled 
 it on purpose for me, and were waiting my arrival. 
 So I shall sit down among you, and make myself at 
 home." 
 
 The frank-hearted stranger had just drawn his chair 
 to the fire when something like a heavy footstep was 
 heard without, rushing down the steep side of the 
 mountain, as with long and rapid strides, and taking- 
 such a leap in passing the cottage as to strike the op 
 posite precipice. The family held their breath, be 
 cause they knew the sound, and their guest held his by 
 instinct. 
 
 " The old mountain has thrown a stone at us, for 
 fear we should forget him," said the landlord, recover 
 ing himself. " He sometimes nods 1 his head and 
 threatens to come down ; but we are old neighbors, 
 and agree together pretty well upon the whole. Be- 
 sides we have a sure place of refuge hard by if he 
 should be coming in good earnest." 
 
THE AMBITIOUS GUEST. 367 
 
 Let us now suppose the stranger to have finished his 
 supper of bear s meat ; and, by his natural felicity of 
 manner, to have placed himself on a footing of kind 
 ness with the whole family, so that they talked as 
 freely together as if he belonged to their mountain 
 brood. He was of a proud, yet gentle spirit haughty 
 and reserved among the rich and great ; but ever ready 
 to stoop his head to the lowly cottage door, and be like 
 a brother or a son at the poor man s fireside. In the 
 household of the Notch he found warmth and simplicity 
 of feeling, the pervading intelligence of New England, 
 and a poetry of native growth, which they had gath 
 ered when they little thought of it from the mountain 
 peaks and chasms, and at the very threshold of their 
 romantic and dangerous abode. He had travelled far 
 and alone ; his whole life, indeed, had been a solitary 
 path ; for, with the lofty caution of his nature, he had 
 kept himself apart from those who might otherwise 
 have been his companions. The family, too, though 
 so kind and hospitable, had that consciousness of unity 
 among themselves, and separation from the world at 
 large, which, in every domestic circle, shoidd still keep 
 a holy place where 110 stranger may intrude. But this 
 evening a prophetic sympathy impelled the refined 
 and educated youth to pour out his teart before the 
 simple mountaineers, and constrained them to answer 
 him with the same free confidence. And thus it should 
 have been. Is not the kindred of a common fate a 
 closer tie than that of birth ? 
 
 The secret of the young man s character was a high 
 and abstracted ambition. He could have borne to live 
 an undistinguished life, but not to be forgotten in the 
 grave. Yearning desire had been transformed to hope ; 
 and hope, long cherished, had become like certainty, 
 
868 TWICE-TOLD TALES. 
 
 that, obscurely as he journeyed now, a glory was to 
 beam on all his pathway, though not, perhaps, while 
 he was treading it. But when posterity should gaze 
 back into the gloom of what was now the present, they 
 would trace the brightness of his footsteps, brightening 
 as meaner glories faded, and confess that a gifted one 
 had passed from his cradle to his tomb with none to 
 recognize him. 
 
 44 As yet," cried the stranger his cheek glowing 
 and his eye flashing with enthusiasm " as yet, I 
 have done nothing. Were I to vanish from the earth 
 to-morrow, none would know so much of me as you : 
 that a nameless youth came up at nightfall from the 
 valley of the Saco, and opened his heart to you in the 
 evening, and passed through the Notch by sunrise, 
 and was seen no more. Not a soul would ask, 4 Who 
 was he ? Whither did the wanderer go ? But I 
 cannot die till I have achieved my destiny. Then, let 
 Death come ! I shall have built my monument ! " 
 
 There was a continual flow of natural emotion, gush 
 ing forth amid abstracted reverie, which enabled the 
 family to understand this young man s sentiments, 
 though so foreign from their own. With quick sensi 
 bility of the ludicrous, he blushed at the ardor into 
 which he had ^en betrayed. 
 
 " You laugh at me," said he, taking the eldest 
 daughter s hand, and laughing himself. " You think 
 my ambition as nonsensical as if I were to freeze my 
 self to death on the top of Mount Washington, only 
 that people might spy at me from the country round 
 about. And, truly, that would be a noble pedestal for 
 a man s statue ! " 
 
 " It is better to sit here by this fire," answered the 
 girl, blushing, " and be comfortable and contented, 
 though nobody thinks about us." 
 
THE AMBITIOUS GUEST. 369 
 
 " I suppose," said her father, after a fit of musing, 
 " there is something natural in what the young man 
 says ; and if my mind had been turned that way, I 
 might have felt just the same. It is strange, wife, 
 how his talk has set my head running on things that 
 are pretty certain never to come to pass." 
 
 " Perhaps they may," observed the wife. " Is the 
 man thinking what he will do when he is a widower ? " 
 
 " Xo, no ! " cried he, repelling the idea with re 
 proachful kindness. " When I think of your death, 
 Esther, I think of mine, too. But I was wishing we 
 had a good farm in Bartlett, or Bethlehem, or Little 
 ton, or some other township round the White Mount 
 ains ; but not where they could tumble on our heads. 
 I should want to stand well with my neighbors and be 
 called Squire, and sent to General Court for a term or 
 two ; for a plain, honest man may do as much good 
 there as a lawyer. And when I should be grown quite 
 an old man, and you an old woman, so as not to be 
 long apart, I might die happy enough in my bed, and 
 leave you all crying around me. A slate gravestone 
 would suit me as well as a marble one with just my 
 name and age, and a verse of a hymn, and something 
 to let people know that I lived an honest man and died 
 a Christian." 
 
 " There now ! " exclaimed the stranger ; " it is our 
 nature to desire a monument, be it slate or marble, or 
 a pillar of granite, or a glorious memory in the uni 
 versal heart of man." 
 
 " We re in a strange way, to-night," said the wife, 
 with tears in her eyes. " They say it s a sign of 
 something, when folks minds go a wandering so. 
 Hark to the children ! " 
 
 They listened accordingly. The younger children 
 VOL. i. 24 
 
370 TWICE-TOLD TALES. 
 
 had been put to bed in another room, but with an 
 open door between, so that they could be heard talk 
 ing busily among themselves. One and all seemed to 
 have caught the infection from the fireside circle, and 
 were outvying each other in wild wishes, and childish 
 projects of what they would do when they came to be 
 men and women. At length a little boy, instead of 
 addressing his brothers and sisters, called out to his 
 mother. 
 
 " I 11 tell you what I wish, mother," cried he. " I 
 want you and father and grandma m, and all of us, 
 and the stranger too, to start right away, and go and 
 take a drink out of the basin of the Flume ! " 
 
 Nobody could help laughing at the child s notion of 
 leaving a warm bed, and dragging them from a cheer- 
 fid fire, to visit the basin of the Flume, a brook, 
 which tumbles over the precipice, deep within the 
 Notch. The boy had hardly spoken when a wagon 
 rattled along the road, and stopped a moment before 
 the door. It appeared to contain two or three men, 
 who were cheering their hearts with the rough chorus 
 of a song, which resounded, in broken notes, between 
 the cliffs, while the singers hesitated whether to con 
 tinue their journey or put up here for the night." 
 
 " Father," said the girl, " they are calling you by 
 name." 
 
 But the good man doubted whether they had really 
 called him, and was unwilling to show himself too 
 solicitous of gain by inviting people to patronize his 
 house. He therefore did not hurry to the door ; and 
 the lash being soon applied, the travellers plunged 
 into the Notch, still singing and laughing, though 
 their music and mirth came back drearily from the 
 heart of the mountain. 
 
THE AMBITIOUS GUEST. 371 
 
 " There, mother ! " cried the boy. again. " They d 
 have given us a ride to the Flume." 
 
 Again they laughed at the child s pertinacious fancy 
 for a night ramble. But it happened that a light cloud 
 passed over the daughter s spirit ; she looked gravely 
 into the fire, and drew a breath that was almost a sigh. 
 It forced its way, in spite of a little struggle to re 
 press it. Then starting and blushing, she looked 
 quickly round the circle, as if they had caught a 
 glimpse into her bosom. The stranger asked what she 
 had been thinking of. 
 
 " Nothing," answered she, with a downcast smile. 
 " Only I felt lonesome just then." 
 
 " Oh, I have always had a gift of feeling what is in 
 other people s hearts," said he, half seriously. " Shall 
 I tell the secrets of yours ? For I know what to think 
 when a young girl shivers by a warm hearth, and com 
 plains of lonesorneness at her mother s side. Shall I 
 put these feelings into words ? " 
 
 4; They would not be a girl s feelings any longer if 
 they could be put into words," replied the mountain 
 nymph, laughing, but avoiding his eye. 
 
 All this was said apart. Perhaps a germ of love 
 was springing in their hearts, so pure that it might 
 blossom in Paradise, since it coidd not be matured on 
 earth ; for women worship such gentle dignity as his ; 
 and the proud, contemplative, yet kindly soul is often- 
 est captivated by simplicity like hers. But while they 
 spoke softly, and he was watching the happy sadness, 
 the lightsome shadows, the shy yearnings of a maiden s 
 nature, the wind through the Notch took a deeper and 
 drearier sound. It seemed, as the fanciful stranger 
 said, like the choral strain of the spirits of the blast 
 who in old Indian times had their dwelling among 
 
372 TWICE-TOLD TALES. 
 
 these mountains, and made their heights and recesses 
 a sacred region. There was a wail along the road, as 
 if a funeral were passing. To chase away the gloom, 
 the family threw pine branches on their fire, till the 
 dry leaves crackled and the flame arose, discovering 
 once again a scene of peace and humble happiness. 
 The light hovered about them fondly, and caressed 
 them all. There were the little faces of the children, 
 peeping from their bed apart, and here the father s 
 frame of strength, the mother s subdued and careful 
 mien, the high-browed youth, the budding girl, and 
 the good old grandam, still knitting in the warmest 
 place. The aged woman looked up from her task, 
 and, with fingers ever busy, was the next to speak. 
 
 " Old folks have their notions," said she, " as well 
 as young ones. You ve been wishing and planning ; 
 and letting your heads run on one thing and another, 
 till you ve set my mind a wandering too. Now what 
 should an old woman wish for, when she can go but a 
 step or two before she comes to her grave ? Children, 
 it will haunt me night and day till I tell you." 
 
 " What is it, mother ? " cried the husband and wife 
 at once. 
 
 Then the old woman, with an air of mystery which 
 drew the circle closer round the fire, informed them 
 that she had provided her grave-clothes some years be 
 fore, a nice linen shroud, a cap with a muslin ruff, 
 and everything of a finer sort than she had worn since 
 her wedding day. But this evening an old supersti 
 tion had strangely recurred to her. It used to be said, 
 in her younger days, that if anything were amiss with 
 a corpse, if only the ruff were not smooth, or the cap 
 did not set right, the corpse in the coffin and beneath 
 the clods would strive to put up its cold hands and 
 arrange it. The bare thought made her nervous. 
 
THE AMBITIOUS GUEST. 373 
 
 " Don t talk so, grandmother ! " said the girl, shud 
 dering. 
 
 " Now," continued the old woman, with singular 
 earnestness, yet smiling strangely at her own folly, 
 " I want one of you, my children when your mother 
 is dressed and in the coffin I want one of you to 
 hold a looking-glass over my face. Who knows but 
 I may take a glimpse at myself, and see whether all s 
 right?" 
 
 " Old and young, we dream of graves and monu 
 ments," murmured the stranger youth. " I wonder 
 how mariners feel when the ship is sinking, and they, 
 unknown and undistinguished, are to be buried to 
 gether in the ocean that wide and nameless sep 
 ulchre?" 
 
 For a moment, the old woman s ghastly conception 
 so engrossed the minds of her hearers that a sound 
 abroad in the night, rising like the roar of a blast, 
 had grown broad, deep, and terrible, before the fated 
 group were conscious of it. The house and all within 
 it trembled ; the foundations of the earth seemed to 
 be shaken, as if this awful sound were the peal of 
 the last trump. Young and old exchanged one wild 
 glance, and remained an instant, pale, affrighted, with 
 out utterance, or power to move. Then the same 
 shriek burst simultaneously from all their lips. 
 
 The Slide! The Slide!" 
 
 The simplest words must intimate, but not portray, 
 the unutterable horror of the catastrophe. The vic 
 tims rushed from their cottage, and sought refuge in 
 what they deemed a safer spot where, in contempla 
 tion of such an emergency, a sort of barrier had been 
 reared. Alas! they had quitted their security, and 
 fled right into the pathway of destruction. Down 
 
374 TWICE-TOLD TALES. 
 
 came the whole side of the mountain, in a cataract 
 of ruin. Just before it reached the house, the stream 
 broke into two branches shivered not a window 
 there, but overwhelmed the whole vicinity, blocked up 
 the road, and annihilated everything in its dreadful 
 course. Long ere the thunder of the great Slide had 
 ceased to roar among the mountains, the mortal agony 
 had been endured, and the victims were at peace. 
 Their bodies were never found. 
 
 The next morning, the light smoke was seen steal 
 ing from the cottage chimney up the mountain side. 
 Within, the fire was yet smouldering on the hearth, 
 and the chairs in a circle round it, as if the inhabit 
 ants had but gone forth to view the devastation of the 
 Slide, and would shortly return, to thank Heaven for 
 their miraculous escape. All had left separate tokens, 
 by which those who had known the family were made 
 to shed a tear for each. Who has not heard their 
 name ? The story has been told far and wide, and 
 will forever be a legend of these mountains. Poets 
 have sung their fate. 
 
 There were circumstances which led some to sup 
 pose that a stranger had been received into the cottage 
 on this awful night, and had shared the catastrophe of 
 all its inmates. Others denied that there were suffi 
 cient grounds for such a conjecture. Woe for the 
 high-souled youth, with his dream of Earthly Immor 
 tality ! His name and person utterly unknown ; his 
 history, his way of life, his plans, a mystery never to 
 be solved, his death and his existence equally a doobtJ 
 Whose was the agony of that death moment ? 
 
THE SISTER YEARS. 
 
 LAST night, between eleven and twelve o clock, 
 when the Old Year was leaving her final footprints on 
 the borders of Time s empire, she found herself in 
 possession of a few spare moments, and sat down 
 of all places in the world on the steps of our new 
 City Hall. The wintry moonlight showed that she 
 looked weary of body and sad of heart, like many an 
 other wayfarer of earth. Her garments, having been 
 exposed to much foul weather and rough usage, were 
 in very ill condition ; and as the hurry of her journey 
 had never before allowed her to take an instant s rest, 
 her shoes were so worn as to be scarcely worth the 
 mending. But, after trudging only a little distance 
 farther, this poor Old Y^ear was destined to enjoy a 
 long, long sleep. I forgot to mention that, when she 
 seated herself on the steps, she deposited by her side 
 a very capacious bandbox, in which, as is the custom 
 among travellers of her sex, she carried a great deal 
 of valuable property. Besides this luggage, there was 
 a folio book under her arm, very much resembling the 
 annual volume of a newspaper. Placing this volume 
 across her knees, and resting her elbows upon it, with 
 her forehead in her hands, the weary, bedraggled, 
 world-worn Old Year heaved a heavy sigh, and ap 
 peared to be taking no very pleasant retrospect of her 
 past existence. 
 
 While she thus awaited the midnight knell that 
 was to summon her to the innumerable sisterhood of 
 
876 TWICE-TOLD TALES. 
 
 departed Years, there came a young maiden treading 
 lightsomely on tiptoe along the street, from the direc 
 tion of the Railroad Depot. She was evidently a 
 stranger, and perhaps had come to town by the even 
 ing train of cars. There was a smiling cheerfulness 
 in this fair maiden s face, which bespoke her fully 
 confident of a kind reception from the multitude of 
 people with whom she was soon to form acquaintance. 
 Her dress was rather too airy for the season, and was 
 bedizened with fluttering ribbons and other vanities, 
 which were likely soon to be rent away by the fierce 
 storms or to fade in the hot sunshine, amid which she 
 was to pursue her changeful course. But still she was 
 a wonderfully pleasant looking figure, and had so much 
 promise and such an indescribable hopefulness in her 
 aspect, that hardly anybody could meet her without an 
 ticipating some very desirable thing the consumma 
 tion of some long-sought good from her kind offices. 
 A few dismal characters there may be, here and there 
 about the world, who have so often been trifled with 
 by young maidens as promising as she, that they have 
 now ceased to pin any faith upon the skirts of the 
 New Year. But, for my own part, I have great faith 
 in her ; and should I live to see fifty more such, still, 
 from each of these successive sisters, I shall reckon 
 upon receiving something that will be worth living for. 
 The New Year for this young maiden was no less 
 a personage carried all her goods and chattels in a 
 basket of no great size or weight, which hung upon 
 her arm. She greeted the disconsolate Old Year with 
 great affection, and sat down beside her on the steps 
 of the City Hall, waiting for the signal to begin her 
 rambles through the world. The two were own sisters, 
 being both granddaughters of Time ; and though one 
 
THE SISTER YEARS. 377 
 
 looked so much older than the other, it was rather 
 owing to hardships and trouble than to age, since 
 there was but a twelvemonth s difference between 
 them. 
 
 4i Well, my dear sister," said the New Year, after 
 the first salutations, " you look almost tired to death. 
 What have you been about during your sojourn in this 
 part of Infinite Space ? " 
 
 " Oh, I have it all recorded here in my Book of 
 Chronicles," answered the Old Year, in a heavy tone. 
 " There is nothing that would amuse you ; and you 
 will soon get sufficient knowledge of such matters 
 from your own personal experience. It is but tire 
 some reading." 
 
 Nevertheless, she turned over the leaves of the folio, 
 and glanced at them by the light of the moon, feeling 
 an irresistible spell of interest in her own biography, 
 although its incidents were remembered without pleas 
 ure. The volume, though she termed it her Book of 
 Chronicles, seemed to be neither more nor less than the 
 " Salem Gazette " for 1838 ; in the accuracy of which 
 journal this sagacious Old Year had so much confi 
 dence that she deemed it needless to record her his 
 tory with her own pen. 
 
 " What have you been doing in the political way ? " 
 asked the New Year. 
 
 " Why, my course here in the United States," said 
 the Old Year, ki though perhaps I ought to blush at 
 the confession, my political course, I must acknowl 
 edge, has been rather vacillatory, sometimes inclining 
 towards the Whigs then causing the Administra 
 tion party to shout for triumph -and now again up 
 lifting what seemed the almost prostrate banner of 
 the Opposition ; so that historians will hardly know 
 
378 TWICE-TOLD TALES. 
 
 what to make of me in this respect. But the Loco 
 Focos " 
 
 " I do not like these party nicknames," interrupted 
 her sister, who seemed remarkably touchy about some 
 points. " Perhaps we shall part in better humor if 
 we avoid any political discussion." 
 
 " With all my heart," replied the Old Year, who 
 had already been tormented half to death with squab 
 bles of this kind. " I care not if the names of Whig 
 or Tory, with their interminable brawls about Banks 
 and the Sub-Treasury, Abolition, Texas, the Florida 
 War, and a million of other topics which you will 
 learn soon enough for your own comfort I care not, 
 I say, if no whisper of these matters ever reaches my 
 ears again. Yet they have occupied so large a share 
 of my attention that I scarcely know what else to tell 
 you. There has indeed been a curious sort of war on 
 the Canada border, where blood has streamed in the 
 names of Liberty and Patriotism ; but it must remain 
 for some future, perhaps far distant Year, to tell 
 whether or no those holy names have been rightfully 
 invoked. Nothing so much depresses me, in my view 
 of mortal affairs, as to see high energies wasted, and 
 human life and happiness thrown away, for ends that 
 appear oftentimes unwise, and still oftener remain un 
 accomplished. But the wisest people and the best 
 keep a steadfast faith that the progress of Mankind 
 is onward and upward, and that the toil and anguish 
 of the path serve to wear away the imperfections of 
 the Immortal Pilgrim, and will be felt no more when 
 they have done their office." 
 
 " Perhaps," cried the hopeful New Year, " per 
 haps I shall see that happy day ! " 
 
 " I doubt whether it be so close at hand," answered 
 
THE SISTER YEARS 879 
 
 the Old Year, gravely smiling. " You will soon grow 
 weary of looking for that blessed consummation, and 
 will turn for amusement (as has frequently been my 
 own practice) to the affairs of some sober little city, 
 like this of Salem. Here we sit on the steps of the 
 new City Hall, which has been completed under my 
 administration ; and it would make you laugh to see 
 how the game of politics, of which the Capitol at 
 Washington is the great chess-board, is here played 
 in miniature. Burning Ambition finds its fuel here; 
 here Patriotism speaks boldly in the people s behalf, 
 and virtuous Economy demands retrenchment in the 
 emoluments of a lamplighter ; here the Aldermen 
 range their senatorial dignity around the Mayor s 
 chair of state, and the Common Council feel that they 
 have liberty in charge. In short, human weakness 
 and strength, passion and policy, Man s tendencies, 
 his aims and modes of pursuing them, his individual 
 character and his character in the mass, may be 
 studied almost as well here as on the theatre of na 
 tions: and with this great advantage, that, be the 
 lesson ever so disastrous, its Liliputian scope still 
 makes the beholder smile." 
 
 " Have you done much for the improvement of the 
 City?" asked the New Year. "Judging from what 
 little I have seen, it appears to be ancient and time- 
 worn." 
 
 " I have opened the Railroad," said the elder Year, 
 " and half a dozen times a day you will hear the bell 
 (which once summoned the Monks of a Spanish Con 
 vent to their devotions) announcing the arrival or 
 departure of the cars. Old Salem now wears a much 
 livelier expression than when I first beheld her. 
 Strangers rumble down from Boston by hundreds 
 
880 TWICE-TOLD TALES. 
 
 at a time. New faces throng in Essex Street. Rail 
 road hacks and omnibuses rattle over the pavements. 
 There is a perceptible increase of oyster shops, and 
 other establishments for the accommodation of a tran 
 sitory diurnal multitude. But a more important 
 change awaits the venerable town. An immense ac 
 cumulation of musty prejudices will be carried off by 
 the free circulation of society. A peculiarity of char 
 acter, of which the inhabitants themselves are hardly 
 sensible, will be rubbed down and worn away by the 
 attrition of foreign substances. Much of the result 
 will be good ; there will likewise be a few things not 
 so good. Whether for better or worse, there will be 
 a probable diminution of the moral influence of 
 wealth, and the sway of an aristocratic class, which, 
 from an era far beyond my memory, has held firmer 
 dominion here than in any other New England town." 
 
 The Old Year having talked away nearly all of 
 her little remaining breath, now closed her Book of 
 Chronicles, and was about to take her departure. But 
 her sister detained her a while longer, by inquiring 
 the contents of the huge bandbox which she was so 
 painfully lugging along with her. 
 
 "These are merely a few trifles," replied the Old 
 Year, "which I have picked up in my rambles, and 
 am going to deposit in the receptacle of things past 
 and forgotten. We sisterhood of Years never carry 
 anything really valuable out of the world with us. 
 Here are patterns of most of the fashions which I 
 brought into vogue, and which have already lived out 
 their allotted term. You will supply their place with 
 others equally ephemeral. Here, put up in little 
 China pots, like rouge, is a considerable lot of beauti 
 ful women s bloom, which the disconsolate fair ones 
 
THE SISTER YEARS. 381 
 
 ewe me a bitter grudge for stealing. I have likewise 
 a quantity of men s dark hair, instead of which, I have 
 left gray locks, or none at all. The tears of widows 
 and other afflicted mortals, who have received com 
 fort during the last twelve months, are preserved in 
 some dozens of essence bottles, well corked and sealed. 
 I have several bundles of love-letters, eloquently 
 breathing an eternity of burning passion, which grew 
 cold and perished almost before the ink was dry. 
 Moreover, here is an assortment of many thousand 
 broken promises, and other broken ware, all very light 
 and packed into little space. The heaviest articles 
 in my possession are a large parcel of disappointed 
 hopes, which a little while ago were buoyant enough 
 to have inflated Mr. Lauriat s balloon." 
 
 " I have a fine lot of hopes here in my basket," 
 remarked the New Year. " They are a sweet-smelling 
 flower a species of rose." 
 
 " They soon lose their perfume," replied the sombre 
 Old Year. " What else have you brought to insure a 
 welcome from the discontented race of mortals?" 
 
 " Why, to say the truth, little or nothing else," said 
 her sister, with a smile, " " save a few new Annuals 
 and Almanacs, and some New Year s gifts for the 
 children. But I heartily wish well to poor mortals, 
 and mean to do all I can for their improvement and 
 happiness." 
 
 " It is a good resolution," rejoined the Old Year ; 
 " and, by the way, I have a plentiful assortment of 
 good resolutions, which have now grown so stale and 
 musty that I am ashamed to carry them any farther. 
 Only for fear that the City authorities would send Con 
 stable Mansfield with a warrant after me, I should toss 
 them into the street at once. Many other matters go 
 
382 TWICE-TOLD TALES. 
 
 to make up the contents of my bandbox, but the whole 
 lot would not fetch a single bid, even at an auction of 
 worn-out furniture ; and as they are worth nothing 
 either to you or anybody else. I need not trouble you 
 with a longer catalogue." 
 
 " And must I also pick up such worthless luggage in 
 my travels ? " asked the New Year. 
 
 " Most certainly and well, if you have no heavier 
 load to bear," replied the other. "And now, my dear 
 sister, I must bid* you farewell, earnestly advising and 
 exhorting you to expect no gratitude nor good-will from 
 this peevish, unreasonable, inconsiderate, ill-intending, 
 and worse-behaving world. However warmly its in 
 habitants may seem to welcome you, yet, do what you 
 may, and lavish on them what means of happiness you 
 please, they will still be complaining, still craving what 
 it is not in your power to give, still looking forward to 
 some other Year for the accomplishment of projects 
 which ought never to have been formed, and which, if 
 successful, would only provide new occasions of dis 
 content. If these ridiculous people ever see anything 
 tolerable in you, it will be after you are gone for 
 ever." 
 
 "But I," cried the fresh-hearted New Year, "I 
 shall try to leave men wiser than I find them. I will 
 offer them freely whatever good gifts Providence per 
 mits me to distribute, and will tell them to be thankful 
 for what they have, and humbly hopeful for more ; and 
 surely, if they are not absolute fools, they will conde 
 scend to be happy, and will allow me to be a happy 
 Year. For my happiness must depend on them." 
 
 " Alas for you, then, my poor sister ! " said the Old 
 Year, sighing, as she uplifted her burden. "We, 
 grandchildren of Time, are born to trouble. Happi- 
 
THE SISTER TEARS. 
 
 ness, they say. dwells in the mansions of Eternity; 
 but we can only lead mortals thither, step by step, with 
 reluctant murmurings, and ourselves must perish on 
 the threshold. But hark I my task is done." 
 
 The clock in the tall steeple of Dr. Emerson s 
 church struck twelve ; there was a response from Dr. 
 Flint s, in the opposite quarter of the city : and while 
 the strokes were yet dropping into the air. the Old 
 Year either flitted or faded away, and not the wis 
 dom and might of Angels, to say nothing of the re 
 morseful yearnings of the millions who had used her 
 ill, could have prevailed with that departed Year to 
 return one step. But she, in the company of Time 
 and all her kindred, must hereafter hold a reckoning 
 with Mankind. So shall it be, likewise, with the maid 
 enly New Year, who, as the clock ceased to strike, arose 
 from the steps of the City Hall, and set out rather 
 timorously on her earthly course. 
 
 - A happy New Year ! " cried a watchman, eying 
 her figure very questionably, but without the least 
 suspicion that he was addressing the New Year in 
 person. 
 
 ~ Thank you kindly ! said the New Year ; and she 
 gave the watchman one of the roses of hope from her 
 basket. ~ May this flower keep a sweet smell, long 
 after I have bidden you good-by." 
 
 Then she stepped on more briskly through the silent 
 streets : and such as were awake at the moment heard 
 her footfall, and said. " The New Year is come ! 
 Wherever there was a knot of midnight roisterers they 
 quaffed her health. She sighed, however, to perceive 
 that the air was tainted as the atmosphere of this 
 world must continually be with the dying breaths of 
 mortals who had lingered just long enough for her to 
 
384 TWICE-TOLD TALES. 
 
 bury them. But there were millions left alive to 
 rejoice at her coming; and so she pursued her way 
 with confidence, strewing emblematic flowers on the 
 doorstep of almost every dwelling, which some persons 
 will gather up and wear in their bosoms, and others 
 will trample under foot. The Carrier Boy can only 
 say further that, early this morning, she filled his bas 
 ket with New Year s Addresses, assuring him that the 
 whole City, with our new Mayor, and the Aldermen 
 and Common Council at its head, would make a general 
 rush to secure copies. Kind Patrons, will not you re 
 deem the pledge of the NEW YEAR? 
 
SNOW-FLAKES. 
 
 THERE is snow in yonder cold gray sky of the 
 morning ! and; through the partially frosted win 
 dow panes, I love to watch the gradual beginning of 
 the storm. A few feathery flakes are scattered widely 
 through the air, and hover downward with uncertain 
 
 o 
 
 flight, now almost alighting on the earth, now whirled 
 again aloft into remote regions of the atmosphere. 
 These are not the big flakes, heavy with moisture, 
 which melt as they touch the ground, and are porten 
 tous of a soaking rain. It is to be, in good earnest, a 
 wintry storm. The two or three people visible 011 the 
 sidewalks have an aspect of endurance, a blue-nosed, 
 frosty fortitude, which is evidently assumed in antici 
 pation of a comfortless and blustering day. By night 
 fall, or at least before the sun sheds another glimmer 
 ing smile upon us, the street and our little garden will 
 be heaped with mountain snow-drifts. The soil, al 
 ready frozen for weeks past, is prepared to sustain 
 whatever burden may be laid upon it ; and, to a 
 northern eye, the landscape will lose its melancholy 
 bleakness and acquire a beauty of its own, when 
 Mother Earth, like her children, shall have put on 
 the fleecy garb of her winter s wear. The cloud 
 spirits are slowly weaving her white mantle. As yet, 
 indeed, there is barely a rime like hoarfrost over the 
 brown surface of the street ; the withered grass of the 
 grass-plat is still discernible ; and the slated roofs of 
 the houses do but begin to look gray instead of black. 
 
 VOL. i 25 
 
386 TWICE-TOLD TALES. 
 
 All the snow that has yet fallen within the circumfer 
 ence of my view, were it heaped up together, would 
 hardly equal the hillock of a grave. Thus gradually, 
 by silent and stealthy influences, are great changes 
 wrought. These little snow particles, which the storm 
 spirit flings by handfuls through the air, will bury the 
 great earth under their accumulated mass, nor permit 
 her to behold her sister sky again for dreary months . 
 We, likewise, shall lose sight of our mother s familiar 
 visage, and must content ourselves with looking heaven 
 ward the oftener. 
 
 Now, leaving the storm to do his appointed office, 
 let us sit down, pen in hand, by our fireside. Gloomy 
 as it may seem, there is an influence productive of 
 cheerfulness, and favorable to imaginative thought, in 
 the atmosphere of a snowy day. The native of a 
 southern clime may woo the muse beneath the heavy 
 shade of summer foliage, reclining on banks of turf, 
 while the sound of singing birds and warbling rivulets 
 chimes in with the music of his soul. In our brief 
 summer, I do not think, but only exist in the vague 
 enjoyment of a dream. My hour of inspiration if 
 that hour ever comes is when the green log hisses 
 upon the hearth, and the bright flame, brighter for the 
 gloom of the chamber, rustles high up the chimney, 
 and the coals drop tinkling down among the glowing 
 heaps of ashes. When the casement rattles in the 
 gust, and the snow-flakes or the sleety raindrops pelt 
 hard against the window panes, then I spread out my 
 sheet of paper, with the certainty that thoughts and 
 fancies will gleam forth upon it like stars at twilight, 
 or like violets in May, perhaps to fade as soon. 
 However transitory their glow, they at least shine 
 amid the darksome shadow which the clouds of the 
 
SNOW-FLAKES. 387 
 
 outward sky fling through the room. Blessed, there 
 fore, and reverently welcomed by me, her true-born 
 son, be New England s winter, which makes us, one 
 and all, the nurslings of the storm, and sings a famil 
 iar lullaby even in the wildest shriek of the December 
 blast. Now look we forth again, and see how much of 
 his task the storm spirit has done. 
 
 Slow and sure ! He has the day, perchance the 
 week, before him, and may take his own time to ac 
 complish Nature s burial in snow. A smooth mantle 
 is scarcely yet thrown over the withered grass-plat, 
 and the dry stocks of annuals still thrust themselves 
 through the white surface in all parts of the garden. 
 The leafless rose-bushes stand shivering in a shallow 
 snow-drift, looking, poor things ! as disconsolate as if 
 they possessed a human consciousness of the dreaiy 
 scene. This is a sad time for the shrubs that do not 
 perish with the summer ; they neither live nor die ; 
 what they retain of life seems but the chilling sense of 
 death. Very sad are the flower shrubs in midwinter ! 
 The roofs of the houses are now all white, save where 
 the eddying wind has kept them bare at the bleak cor 
 ners. To discern the real intensity of the storm, we 
 must fix upon some distant object, as yonder spire, 
 and observe how the riotous gust fights with the 
 descending snow throughout the intervening space. 
 Sometimes the entire prospect is obscured : then- 
 again, we have a distinct, but transient, glimpse or 
 the tall steeple, like a giant s ghost ; and now th& 
 dense wreaths sweep between, as if demons were fling 
 ing snow-drifts at each other in mid-air. Look next 
 into the street, where we have an amusing parallel to 
 the combat of those fancied demons in the upper re 
 gions. It is a snow battle of school-boys. What a 
 
388 TWICE-TOLD TALES. 
 
 pretty satire on war and military glory might be writ 
 ten, in the form of a child s story, by describing the 
 snow-ball fights of two rival schools, the alternate de 
 feats and victories of each, and the final triumph of 
 one party, or perhaps of neither ! What pitched bat 
 tles, worthy to be chanted in Homeric strains ! What 
 storming of fortresses, built all of massive snow blocks! 
 What feats of individual prowess, and embodied on 
 sets of martial enthusiasm ! And when some well-con 
 tested and decisive victory had put a period to the 
 war, both armies should unite to build a lofty monu 
 ment of snow upon the battle-field and crown it with 
 the victor s statue, hewn of the same frozen marble. 
 In a few days or weeks thereafter the passer-by would 
 observe a shapeless mound upon the level common ; 
 and, unmindful of the famous victory, would ask, 
 "How came it there? Who reared it? And what 
 means it ? " The shattered pedestal of many a battle 
 monument has provoked these questions when none 
 could answer. 
 
 Turn we again to the fireside, and sit musing there, 
 lending our ears to the wind, till perhaps it shall seem 
 like an articulate voice, and dictate wild and airy mat 
 ter for the pen. Would it might inspire me to sketch 
 out the personification of a New England winter! 
 And that idea, if I can seize the snow-wreathed fig 
 ures that flit before my fancy, shall be the theme of 
 the next page. 
 
 How does Winter herald his approach ? By the 
 shrieking blast of latter autumn, which is Nature s cry 
 of lamentation, as the destroyer rushes among the 
 shivering groves where she has lingered, and scatters 
 the sear leaves upon the tempest. When that cry is 
 heard, the people wrap themselves in cloaks, and 
 
 
 
SNOW-FLAKES. 389 
 
 shake their heads disconsolately, saying, " Winter is 
 at hand ! " Then the axe of the woodcutter echoes 
 sharp and diligently in the forest ; then the coal 
 merchants rejoice, because each shriek of Nature in 
 her agony adds something to the price of coal per ton ; 
 then the peat smoke spreads its aromatic fragrance 
 through the atmosphere. A few days more ; and at 
 eventide the children look out of the window, and 
 dimly perceive the flaunting of a snowy mantle in the 
 air. It is stern Winter s vesture. They crowd around 
 the hearth, and cling to their mother s gown, or press 
 between their father s knees, affrighted by the hollow 
 roaring voice that bellows adown the wide flue of the 
 chimney. It is the voice of Winter ; and when par 
 ents and children hear it, they shudder and exclaim, 
 ki Winter is come ! Cold Winter has begun his 
 reign already ! " Now, throughout New England, each 
 hearth becomes an altar, sending up the smoke of a 
 Continued sacrifice to the immitigable deity who tyran 
 nizes over forest, country side, and town. Wrapped 
 in his white mantle, his staff a huge icicle, his beard 
 and hair a wind-tossed snow-drift, he travels over the 
 land, in the midst of the northern blast ; and woe to 
 the homeless wanderer whom he finds upon his path ! 
 There he lies stark and stiff, a human shape of ice, 
 on the spot where Winter overtook him. On strides 
 the tyrant over the rushing rivers and broad lakes, 
 which turn to rock beneath his footsteps. His dreary 
 empire is established ; all around stretches the deso 
 lation of the Pole. Yet not ungrateful be his New 
 England children for Winter is our sire, though a 
 stern and rough one not ungrateful even for the se 
 verities which have nourished our unyielding strength 
 of character. And let us thank him, too, for the 
 
390 TWICE-TOLD TALES. 
 
 sleigh-rides, cheered by the music of merry bells 
 for the crackling and rustling hearth, when the ruddy 
 firelight gleams on hardy Manhood and the blooming 
 cheek of Woman for all the home enjoyments, and 
 the kindred virtues, which flourish in a frozen soil. 
 Not that we grieve, when, after some seven months of 
 storm and bitter frost, Spring, in the guise of a flower- 
 crowned virgin, is seen driving away the hoary despot, 
 pelting him with violets by the handful, and strewing 
 green grass on the path behind him. Often, ere he 
 will give up his empire, old Winter rushes fiercely 
 back, and hurls a snow-drift at the shrinking form of 
 Spring ; yet, step by step, he is compelled to retreat 
 northward, and spends the summer months within the 
 Arctic circle. 
 
 Such fantasies, intermixed among graver toils of 
 mind, have made the winter s day pass pleasantly. 
 Meanwhile, the storm has raged without abatement, 
 and now, as the brief afternoon declines, is tossing 
 denser volumes to and fro about the atmosphere. On 
 the window-sill there is a layer of snow reaching 
 half way up the lowest pane of glass. The garden is 
 one unbroken bed. Along the street are two or three 
 spots of uncovered earth, where the gust has whirled 
 away the snow, heaping it elsewhere to the fence tops, 
 or piling huge banks against the doors of houses. A 
 solitary passenger is seen, now striding mid-leg deep 
 across a drift, now scudding over the bare ground, 
 while his cloak is swollen with the wind. And now 
 the jingling of bells, a sluggish sound, responsive to 
 the horse s toilsome progress through the unbroken 
 drifts, announces the passage of a sleigh, with a boy 
 clinging behind, and ducking his head to escape detec- 
 tion by the driver. Next comes a sledge, laden witlj 
 
 
 
SNOW-FLAKES. 391 
 
 ivood for some unthrifty housekeeper, whom winter 
 has surprised at a cold hearth. But what dismal 
 equipage now struggles along the uneven street ? A 
 sable hearse, bestrewn with snow, is bearing a dead 
 man through the storm to his frozen bed. Oh, how 
 dreary is a burial in winter, when the bosom of Mother 
 Earth has no warmth for her poor child ! 
 
 Evening the early eve of December begins to 
 spread its deepening veil over the comfortless scene, 
 the firelight gradually brightens, and throws my flick 
 ering shadow upon the walls and ceiling of the cham 
 ber ; but still the storm rages and rattles against the 
 windows. Alas ! I shiver, and think it time to be 
 disconsolate. But, taking a farewell glance at dead 
 nature in her shroud, I perceive a flock of snow-birds 
 skimming lightsomely through the tempest, and flit 
 ting from drift to drift, as sportively as swallows in 
 the delightful prime of summer. Whence come they? 
 Where do they build their nests and seek their food ? 
 Why, having airy wings, do they not follow summer 
 around the earth, instead of making themselves the 
 playmates of the storm, and fluttering on the dreary 
 verge of the winter s eve ? I know not whence they 
 come, nor why ; yet my spirit has been cheered by 
 that wandering flock of snow-birds. 
 
THE SEVEN VAGABONDS. 
 
 RAMBLING on foot in the spring of my life and the 
 summer of the year, I came one afternoon to a point 
 which gave me the choice of three directions. Straight 
 before me the main road extended its dusty length to 
 Boston ; on the left a branch went towards the sea, 
 and would have lengthened my journey a trifle of 
 twenty or thirty miles ; while, by the right-hand path 
 I might have gone over hills and lakes to Canada, 
 visiting in my way the celebrated town of Stamford. 
 On a level spot of grass, at the foot of the guide-post, 
 appeared an object which, though locomotive on a dif 
 ferent principle, reminded me of Gulliver s portable 
 mansion among the Brobdignags. It was a huge cov 
 ered wagon, or, more properly, a small house on 
 wheels, with a door on one side and a window shaded 
 by green blinds on the other. Two horses, munching 
 provender out of the baskets which muzzled them, 
 were fastened near the vehicle : a delectable sound of 
 music proceeded from the interior ; and I immediately 
 conjectured that this was some itinerant show halting 
 at the confluence of the roads to intercept such idle 
 travellers as myself. A shower had long been climb 
 ing up the western sky, and now hung so blackly over 
 my onward path that it was a point of wisdom to seek 
 shelter here. 
 
 " Halloo ! Who stands guard here ? Is the door 
 keeper asleep ? " cried I, approaching a ladder of two 
 or three steps which was let down from the wagon. 
 
 
 
THE SEVEN VAGABONDS. 393 
 
 The music ceased at my summons, and there ap 
 peared at the door, not the sort of figure that I had 
 mentally assigned to the wandering showman, but a 
 most respectable old personage, whom I was sorry to 
 have addressed in so free a style. He wore a snuff- 
 colored coat and smallclothes, with white top-boots, 
 and exhibited the mild dignity of aspect and mannei 
 which may often be noticed in aged schoolmasters, 
 and sometimes in deacons, selectmen, or other poten 
 tates of that kind. A small piece of silver was my 
 passport within his premises, where I found only one 
 other person, hereafter to be described. 
 
 " This is a didl day for business," said the old gen 
 tleman, as he ushered me in , " but I merely tarry 
 here to refresh the cattle, being bound for the camp- 
 meeting at Stamford." 
 
 Perhaps the movable scene of this narrative is still 
 peregrinating New England, and may enable the 
 reader to test the accuracy of my description. The 
 spectacle for I will not use the unworthy term of 
 puppet show consisted of a multitude of little peo 
 ple assembled on a miniature stage. Among them 
 were artisans of every kind, in the attitudes of their 
 toil, and a group of fair ladies and gay gentlemen 
 standing ready for the dance ; a company of foot-sol 
 diers formed a line across the stage, looking stern, 
 grim, and terrible enough, to make it a pleasant con 
 sideration that they were but three inches high ; and 
 conspicuous above the whole was seen a Merry An 
 drew, in the pointed cap and motley coat of his pro 
 fession. All the inhabitants of this mimic world were 
 motionless, like the figures in a picture, or like that 
 people who one moment were alive in the midst of 
 their business and delights, and the next were trans- 
 
394 TWICE-TOLD TALES. 
 
 formed to statues, preserving an eternal semblance of 
 labor that was ended, and pleasure that could be felt 
 no more. Anon, however, the old gentleman turned 
 the handle of a barrel organ, the first note of which 
 produced a most enlivening effect upon the figures, 
 and awoke them all to their proper occupations and 
 amusements. By the self-same impulse the tailor 
 plied his needle, the blacksmith s hammer descended 
 upon the anvil, and the dancers whirled away on 
 feathery tiptoes ; the company of soldiers broke into 
 platoons, retreated from the stage, and were succeeded 
 by a troop of horse, who came prancing onward with 
 such a sound of trumpets and trampling of hoofs as 
 might have startled Don Quixote himself ; while an old 
 toper, of inveterate ill habits, uplifted his black bottle 
 and took off a hearty swig. Meantime the Merry An 
 drew began to caper and turn somersets, shaking his 
 sides, nodding his head, and winking his eyes in as 
 life-like a manner as if he were ridiculing the non 
 sense of all human affairs, and making fun of the 
 whole multitude beneath him. At length the old 
 magician (for I compared the showman to Prospero 
 entertaining his guests with a mask of shadows) 
 paused that I might give utterance to my wonder. 
 
 " What an admirable piece of work is this ! " ex 
 claimed I, lifting up my hands in astonishment. 
 
 Indeed I liked the spectacle, and was tickled with 
 the old man s gravity as he presided at it, for I had 
 none of that foolish wisdom which reproves every 
 occupation that is not useful in this world of vanities. 
 If there be a faculty which I possess more perfectly 
 than most men, it is that of throwing myself mentally 
 into situations foreign to my own, and detecting, with 
 a cheerful eye, the desirable circumstances of each, 
 
 
 
THE SEVEN VAGABONDS. 395 
 
 I could have envied the life of this gray-headed show 
 man, spent as it had been in a course of safe and 
 pleasurable adventure, in driving his huge vehicle 
 sometimes through the sands of Cape Cod, and some 
 times over the rough forest roads of the north and 
 
 C 
 
 east, and halting now on the green before a village 
 meeting-house, and now in a paved square of the me 
 tropolis. How often must his heart have been glad 
 dened by the delight of children as they viewed these 
 animated figures ! or his pride indulged by harangu 
 ing learnedly to grown men on the mechanical powers 
 which produced such wonderful effects, or his gal 
 lantry brought into play (for this is an attribute 
 which such grave men do not lack) by the visits of 
 pretty maidens ! And then with how fresh a feeling 
 must he return, at intervals, to his own peculiar home ! 
 
 " I would I were assured of as happy a life as his," 
 thought I. 
 
 Though the showman s wagon might have accom 
 modated fifteen or twenty spectators, it now contained 
 only himself and me, and a third person at whom I 
 threw a glance on entering. He was a neat and thin 
 voung man of two or three and twenty ; his drab hat, 
 and green frock coat with velvet collar, w T ere smart, 
 though no longer new ; while a pair of green specta 
 cles that seemed needless to his brisk little eyes gave 
 him something of a scholar-like and literary air. 
 After allowing me a sufficient time to inspect the 
 puppets, he advanced with a bow, and drew my atten 
 tion to some books in a corner of the wagon. These 
 he forthwith began to extol with an amazing volubil 
 ity of well-sounding words, and ail ingenuity of praise 
 that won him my heart, as being myself one of the 
 most merciful of critics. Indeed his stock required 
 
TWICE-TOLD TALES. 
 
 some considerable powers of commendation in the 
 salesman ; there were several ancient friends of mine, 
 the novels of those happy days when my affections 
 wavered between the Scottish Chiefs and Thomas 
 Thumb ; besides a few of later date, whose merits had 
 not been acknowledged by the public. I was glad to 
 find that dear little venerable volume, the New Eng 
 land Primer, looking as antique as ever, though in its 
 thousandth new edition ; a bundle of superannuated 
 gilt picture-books made such a child of me, that partly 
 for the glittering covers, and partly for the fairy 
 tales within, I bought the whole ; and an assortment 
 of ballads and popular theatrical songs drew largely 
 on my purse. To balance these expenditures, I med 
 dled neither with sermons, nor science, nor morality, 
 though volumes of each were there ; nor with a Life 
 of Franklin in the coarsest of paper, but so showily 
 bound that it was emblematical of the Doctor himself, 
 in the court-dress which he refused to wear at Paris ; 
 nor with Webster s Spelling-Book, nor some of By 
 ron s minor poems, nor half a dozen little Testaments 
 at twenty-five cents each. 
 
 Thus far the collection might have been swept from 
 some great bookstore, or picked up at an evening auc 
 tion room ; but there was one small blue-covered pam 
 phlet, which the pedlar handed me with so peculiar an 
 air, that I purchased it immediately at his own price ; 
 and then, for the first time, the thought struck me, 
 that I had spoken face to face with the veritable au 
 thor of a printed book. The literary man now evinced 
 a great kindness for me, and I ventured to inquire 
 which way he was travelling. 
 
 "Oh," said he, "I keep company with this old 
 gentleman here, and we are moving now towards the 
 camp-meeting at Stamford." 
 
THE SEVEN VAGABONDS. 397 
 
 He then explained to me that for the present season 
 he had rented a corner of the wagon as a bookstore, 
 which, as he wittily observed, was a true Circulating 
 Library, since there were few parts of the country 
 where it had not gone its rounds. I approved of the 
 plan exceedingly, and began to sum up within my 
 mind the many uncommon felicities in the life of a 
 book pedlar, especially when his character resembled 
 that of the individual before me. At a high rate was 
 to be reckoned the daily and hourly enjoyment of such 
 interviews as the present, in w r hich he seized upon 
 the admiration of a passing stranger, and made him 
 aware that a man of literary taste, and even of literary 
 achievement, was travelling the country in a show 
 man s wagon. A more valuable, yet not infrequent, 
 triumph, might be won in his conversations with some 
 elderly clergyman, long vegetating in a rocky, woody, 
 watery back settlement of New England, who, as he 
 recruited his library from the pedlar s stock of ser 
 mons, would exhort him to seek a college education 
 and become the first scholar in his class. Sweeter and 
 prouder yet would be his sensations when, talking po 
 etry while he sold spelling-books, he should charm the 
 mind, and haply touch the heart, of a fair country 
 schoolmistress, herself an unhonored poetess, a wearer 
 of blue stockings which none but himself took pains 
 to look at. But the scene of his completest glory 
 would be when the wagon had halted for the night, and 
 his stock of books was transferred to some crowded 
 bar-room. Then would he recommend to the multi 
 farious company, whether traveller from the city, or 
 teamster from the hills, or neighboring squire, or the 
 landlord himself, or his loutish hostler, works suited 
 to each particular taste and capacity ; proving, all the 
 
398 TWICE-TOLD TALES. 
 
 while, by acute criticism and profound remark, that 
 the lore in his books was even exceeded by that in his 
 brain. 
 
 Thus happily would he traverse the land ; some 
 times a herald before the march of Mind ; sometimes 
 walking arm in arm with awful Literature ; and reap 
 ing everywhere a harvest of real and sensible popular 
 ity, which the secluded bookworms, by whose toil he 
 lived, could never hope for. 
 
 " If ever I meddle with literature," thought I, fix 
 ing myself in adamantine resolution, "it shall be as a 
 travelling bookseller." 
 
 Though it was still mid afternoon, the air had now 
 grown dark about us, and a few drops of rain came 
 down upon the roof of our vehicle, pattering like the 
 feet of birds that had flown thither to rest. A sound 
 of pleasant voices made us listen, and there soon ap 
 peared half-way up the ladder the pretty person of a 
 young damsel, whose rosy face was so cheerful that 
 even amid the gloomy light it seemed as if the sun 
 beams were peeping under her bonnet. We next saw 
 the dark and handsome features of a young man, who, 
 with easier gallantry than might have been expected 
 in the heart of Yankee land, was assisting her into 
 the wagon. It became immediately evident to us, 
 when the two strangers stood within the door, that 
 they were of a profession kindred to those of my com 
 panions ; and I was delighted with the more than hos 
 pitable, the even paternal, kindness of the old show 
 man s manner, as he welcomed them ; while the man 
 of literature hastened to lead the merry-eyed girl to a 
 seat on the long bench. 
 
 " You are housed but just in time, my young 
 friends," said the master of the wagon. u The sky 
 would have been down upon you within five minutes. 
 
THE SEVEN VAGABONDS. 399 
 
 The young man s reply marked him as a foreigner, 
 not by any variation from the idiom and accent of 
 good English, but because he spoke with more caution 
 and accuracy than if perfectly familiar with the lan 
 guage. 
 
 " We knew that a shower was hanging over us, 
 said he, " and consulted whether it were best to entei 
 the house on the top of yonder hill, but seeing youi 
 wagon in the road " 
 
 44 We agreed to come hither," interrupted the girl, 
 with a smile, " because we should be more at home in 
 a wandering house like this." 
 
 I meanwhile, with many a wild and undetermined 
 fantasy, was narrowly inspecting these two doves that 
 had flown into our ark. The young man, tall, agile, 
 and athletic, wore a mass of black shining curls clus 
 tering round a dark and vivacious countenance, which, 
 if it had not greater expression, was at least more act 
 ive, and attracted readier notice, than the quiet faces 
 of our countrymen. At his first appearance he had 
 been laden with a neat mahogany box, of about two 
 
 O . 
 
 feet square, but very light in proportion to its size, 
 which he had immediately unstrapped from his shoul 
 ders and deposited on the floor of the wagon. 
 
 The girl had nearly as fair a complexion as our 
 own beauties, and a brighter one than most of them ; 
 the lightness of her figure, which seemed calculated 
 to traverse the whole world without weariness, suited 
 well with the glowing cheerfulness of her face ; and 
 her o:av attire, combining the rainbow hues of crim- 
 
 O , C? 
 
 son, green, and a deep orange, was as proper to her 
 lightsome aspect as if she had been bom in it. This 
 gay stranger was appropriately burdened with that 
 mirth-inspiring instrument, the fiddle, which her com- 
 
400 TWICE-TOLD TALES. 
 
 panion took from her hands, and shortly began the 
 process of tuning. Neither of us the previous com 
 pany of the wagon needed to inquire their tiade ; 
 for this could be no mystery to frequenters of brigade 
 musters, ordinations, cattle-shows, commencements, and 
 other festal meetings in our sober land; and there 
 is a dear friend of mine who will smile when this 
 page recalls to his memory a chivalrous deed per 
 formed by us, in rescuing the showbox of such a 
 couple from a mob of great double-fisted countrymen. 
 
 " Come," said I to the damsel of gay attire, "shall 
 we visit all the wonders of the world together ? " 
 
 She understood the metaphor at once ; though in 
 deed it would not much have troubled me if she had 
 assented to the literal meaning of my words. The 
 mahogany box was placed in a proper position, and I 
 peeped in through its small round magnifying win 
 dow, while the girl sat by my side, and gave short 
 descriptive sketches, as one after another the pictures 
 were unfolded to my view. We visited together, at 
 least our imaginations did, full many a famous city, 
 in the streets of which I had long yearned to tread ; 
 once, I remember, we were in the harbor of Barce 
 lona, gazing townwards ; next, she bore me through 
 the air to Sicily, and bade me look up at blazing 
 2Etna; then we took wing to Venice, and sat in a 
 gondola beneath the arch of the Rialto ; and anon she 
 sat me down among the thronged spectators at the 
 coronation of Napoleon. But there was one scene, its 
 locality she could not tell, which charmed my attention 
 longer than all those gorgeous palaces and churches, 
 because the fancy haunted me that I myself, the pre 
 ceding summer, had beheld just such a humble meet 
 ing-house, in just such a pine-surrounded nook, among 
 
 
 
THE SEVEN VAGABONDS. 401 
 
 our own green mountains. All these pictures were 
 tolerably executed, though far inferior to the girl s 
 touches of description ; nor was it easy to compre 
 hend how, in so few sentences, and these, as I sup 
 posed, in a language foreign to her, she contrived to 
 present an airy copy of each varied scene. AY hen we 
 had travelled through the vast extent of the mahogany 
 box I looked into my guide s face. 
 
 " Where are you going, my pretty maid ? " in 
 quired I, in the words of an old song. 
 
 " Ah," said the gay damsel, " you might as well 
 ask where the summer wind is going. We are wan 
 derers here, and there, and everywhere. Wherever 
 there is mirth, our merry hearts are drawn to it. To 
 day, indeed, the people have told us of a great frolic 
 and festival in these parts ; so perhaps we may be 
 needed at what you call the camp-meeting at Stam 
 ford/ 
 
 Then in my happy youth, and while her pleasant 
 voice yet sounded in my ears, I sighed ; for none but 
 myself, I thought, shoidd have been her companion in 
 a life which seemed to realize my own wild fancies, 
 cherished all through visionary boyhood to that hour. 
 To these two strangers the world was in its golden 
 age, not that indeed it was less dark and sad than 
 ever, but because its weariness and sorrow had no 
 community with their ethereal nature. Wherever they 
 might appear in their pilgrimage of bliss, Youth would 
 echo back their gladness, care-stricken Maturity would 
 rest a moment from its toil, and Age, tottering among 
 the graves, would smile in withered joy for their sakes. 
 The lonely cot, the narrow and gloomy street, the 
 sombre shade, would catch a passing gleam like that 
 now shining on ourselves, as these bright spirits wan- 
 
 VOL. i. 26 
 
402 TWICE-TOLD TALES. 
 
 dered by. Blessed pair, whose happy home was 
 throughout all the earth ! I looked at my shoulders, 
 and thought them broad enough to sustain those pict 
 ured towns and mountains ; mine, too, was an elastic 
 foot, as tireless as the wing of the bird of paradise ; 
 mine was then an untroubled heart, that would have 
 gone singing on its delightful way. 
 
 " O maiden ! " said I aloud, " why did you not come 
 hither alone ? " 
 
 While the merry girl and myself were busy with 
 the showbox, the unceasing rain had driven another 
 wayfarer into the wagon. He seemed pretty nearly 
 of the old showman s age, but much smaller, leaner, 
 and more withered than he, and less respectably clad 
 in a patched suit of gray; withal, he had a thin, 
 shrewd countenance, and a pair of diminutive gray 
 eyes, which peeped rather too keenly out of their 
 puckered sockets. This old fellow had been joking 
 with the showman, in a manner which intimated pre 
 vious acquaintance ; but perceiving that the damsel 
 and I had terminated our affairs, he drew forth a 
 folded document, and presented it to me. As I had 
 anticipated, it proved to be a circular, written in a 
 very fair and legible hand, and signed by several dis 
 tinguished gentlemen whom I had never heard of, stat 
 ing that the bearer had encountered every variety of 
 misfortune, and recommending him to the notice of 
 all charitable people. Previous disbursements had 
 left me no more than a five-dollar bill, out of which, 
 however, I offered to make the beggar a donation, 
 provided he would give me change for it. The object 
 of my beneficence looked keenly in my face, and dis 
 cerned that I had none of that abominable spirit, char 
 acteristic though it be, of a full-blooded Yankee, 
 
 
 
THE SEVEN VAGABONDS. 403 
 
 which takes pleasure in detecting every little harmless 
 piece of knavery. 
 
 " Why, perhaps," said the ragged old mendicant, 
 " if the bank is in good standing, I can t say but I 
 may have enough about me to change your bill." 
 
 " It is a bill of the Suffolk Bank/ said 1, " and 
 better than the specie." 
 
 As the beggar had nothing to object, he now pro 
 duced a small buff-leather bag, tied up carefully with 
 a shoestring. When this was opened, there appeared 
 a very comfortable treasure of silver coins, of all sorts 
 and sizes ; and I even fancied that I saw, gleaming 
 among them, the golden plumage of that rare bird in 
 our currency, the American Eagle. In this precious 
 heap was my bank-note deposited, the rate of exchange 
 being considerably against me. His wants being thus 
 relieved, the destitute man pulled out of his pocket an 
 old pack of greasy cards, which had probably contrib 
 uted to fill the buff-leather bag in more ways than 
 one. 
 
 " Come," said he, " I spy a rare fortune in your 
 face, and for twenty-five cents more, I 11 tell you what 
 it is." 
 
 I never refuse to take a glimpse into futurity ; so, 
 after shuffling the cards, and when the fair damsel 
 had cut them, I dealt a portion to the prophetic beg 
 gar. Like others of his profession, before predicting 
 the shadowy events that were moving on to meet me, 
 he gave proof of his preternatural science by describ 
 ing scenes through which I had already passed. Here 
 let me have credit for a sober fact. When the old 
 man had read a page in his book of fate, he bent his 
 keen gray eyes on mine, and proceeded to relate, in 
 all its minute particulars, what was then the most 
 
404 TWICE-TOLD TALES. 
 
 singular event of my life. It was one which I had 
 no purpose to disclose till the general unfolding of all 
 secrets ; nor would it be a much stranger instance of 
 inscrutable knowledge, or fortune conjecture, if the 
 beggar were to meet me in the street to-day, and re 
 peat, word for word, the page which I have here writ 
 ten. The fortune-teller, after predicting a destiny 
 which Time seems loath to make good, put up his 
 cards, secreted his treasure bag, and began to con 
 verse with the other occupants of the wagon. 
 
 " Well, old friend," said the showman, " you have 
 not yet told us which way your face is turned this 
 afternoon." 
 
 "I am taking a trip northward, this warm weather, 
 replied the conjurer, " across the Connecticut first, 
 and then up through Vermont, and may be into Can 
 ada before the fall. But I must stop and see the 
 breaking up of the camp-meeting at Stamford." 
 
 I began to think that all the vagrants in New Eng 
 land were converging to the camp-meeting, and had 
 made this wagon their rendezvous by the way. The 
 showman now proposed that, when the shower was 
 over, they should pursue the road to Stamford to 
 gether, it being sometimes the policy of these people 
 to form a sort of league and confederacy. 
 
 "And the young lady too," observed the gallant 
 bibliopolist, bowing to her profoundly, " and this for 
 eign gentleman, as I understand, are on a jaunt of 
 pleasure to the same spot. It would add incalculably 
 to my own enjoyment, and I presume to that of my 
 colleague and his friend, if they could be prevailed 
 upon to join our party." 
 
 This arrangement met with approbation on all 
 hands, nor were any of those concerned more sensi- 
 
THE SEVEN VAGABONDS. 405 
 
 ble of its advantages than myself, who had no title 
 to be included in it. Having already satisfied myself 
 as to the several modes in which the four others at 
 tained felicity, I next set my mind at work to discover 
 what enjoyments were peculiar to the old u Straggler," 
 as the people of the country would have termed the 
 wandering mendicant and prophet. As he pretended 
 to familiarity with the Devil, so I fancied that he was 
 fitted to pursue and take delight in his way of life, by 
 possessing some of the mental and moral character 
 istics, the lighter and more comic ones, of the Devil in 
 popular stories. Among them might be reckoned a 
 love of deception for its own sake, a shrewd eye and 
 keen relish for human weakness and ridiculous infirm 
 ity, and the talent of petty fraud. Thus to this old 
 man there would be pleasure even in the conscious 
 ness so insupportable to some minds, that his whole 
 life was a cheat upon the world, and that, so far as he 
 was concerned with the public, his little cunning had 
 the upper hand of its united wisdom. Every day 
 would furnish him with a succession of minute and 
 pungent triumphs : as when, for instance, his impor 
 tunity wrung a pittance out of the heart of a miser ; or 
 when my silly good nature transferred a part of my 
 slender purse to his plump leather bag ; or when some 
 ostentatious gentleman should throw a coin to the 
 ragged beggar who was richer than himself ; or when, 
 though he would not always be so decidedly diabolical, 
 his pretended wants should make him a sharer in the 
 scanty living of real indigence. And then what an 
 inexhaustible field of enjoyment, both as enabling him 
 to discern so much folly and achieve such quantities 
 of minor mischief, was opened to his sneering spirit by 
 his pretensions to prophetic knowledge. 
 
406 TWICE-TOLD TALES. 
 
 All this was a sort of happiness which I could con 
 ceive of, though I had little sympathy with it. Per 
 haps, had I been then inclined to admit it, I might 
 have found that the roving life was more proper to 
 him than to either of his companions ; for Satan, to 
 whom I had compared the poor man, has delighted., 
 ever since the time of Job, in "wandering up and 
 down upon the earth ; " and indeed a crafty disposi 
 tion which operates not in deep-laid plans, but in dis 
 connected tricks, could not have an adequate scope, 
 unless naturally impelled to a continual change of 
 scene and society. My reflections were here inter 
 rupted. 
 
 " Another visitor ! " exclaimed the old showman. 
 
 The door of the wagon had been closed against the 
 tempest, which was roaring and blustering with pro 
 digious fury and commotion, and beating violently 
 against our shelter, as if it claimed all those homeless 
 people for its lawful prey, while we, caring little for 
 the displeasure of the elements, sat comfortably talk 
 ing. There was now an attempt to open the door, 
 succeeded by a voice uttering some strange, unintel 
 ligible gibberish, which my companions mistook for 
 Greek, and I suspected to be thieves Latin. How 
 ever, the showman stepped forward, and gave admit 
 tance to a figure which made me imagine, either that 
 our wagon had rolled back two hundred years into 
 past ages, or that the forest and its old inhabitants 
 had sprung up around us by enchantment. 
 
 It was a red Indian, armed with his bow and arrow. 
 His dress was a sort of cap, adorned with a single 
 feather of some wild bird, and a frock of blue cotton 
 girded tight about him ; on his breast, like orders of 
 knighthood, hung a crescent and a circle, and other 
 
 
 
THE SEVEN VAGABONDS. 407 
 
 ornaments of silver ; while a small crucifix betokened 
 that our Father the Pope had interposed between the 
 Indian and the Great Spirit, whom he had worshipped 
 in his simplicity. This son of the wilderness and 
 pilgrim of the storm took his place, silently in the 
 midst of us. When the first surprise was over, I 
 rightly conjectured him to be one of the Penobscot 
 tribe, parties of which I had often seen, in their 
 summer excursions down our Eastern rivers. There 
 they paddle their birch canoes among the coasting 
 schooners, and build their wigwam beside some roar 
 ing mill-dam, and drive a little trade in basket work 
 where their fathers hunted deer. Our new visitor was 
 probably wandering through the country towards Bos 
 ton, subsisting on the careless charity of the people, 
 while he turned his archery to profitable account by 
 shooting at cents, which were to be the prize of his 
 successful aim. 
 
 The Indian had not long been seated ere our merry 
 damsel sought to draw him into conversation. She, 
 indeed, seemed all made up of sunshine in the month 
 of May; for there was nothing so dark and dismal 
 that her pleasant mind coidd not cast a glow over it; 
 and the wild man, like a fir-tree in his native forest, 
 soon began to brighten into a sort of sombre cheerful 
 ness. At length, she inquired whether his journey 
 had any particular end or purpose. 
 
 " I go shoot at the camp-meeting at Stamford," re 
 plied the Indian. 
 
 44 And here are five more," said the girl, " all aim 
 ing at the camp-meeting too. You shall be one of us, 
 for we travel with light hearts ; and as for me, I sing 
 merry songs, and tell merry tales, and am full of 
 merry thoughts, and I dance merrily along the road, 
 
408 TWICE-TOLD TALES. 
 
 so that there is never any sadness among them that 
 keep me company. But, oh, you would find it very 
 dull indeed to go all the way to Stamford alone ! " 
 
 My ideas of the aboriginal character led me to fear 
 that the Indian would prefer his own solitary musings 
 to the gay society thus offered him ; 011 the contrary, 
 the girl s proposal met with immediate acceptance, and 
 seemed to animate him with a misty expectation of en 
 joyment. I now gave myself up to a course of thought 
 which, whether it flowed naturally from this combina 
 tion of events, or was drawn forth by a wayward 
 fancy, caused my mind to thrill as if I were listening 
 to deep music. I saw mankind, in this weary old age 
 of the world, either enduring a sluggish existence amid 
 the smoke and dust of cities, or, if they breathed a 
 purer air, still lying down at night with no hope but 
 to wear out to-morrow, and all the to-morrows which 
 make up life, among the same dull scenes and in the 
 same wretched toil that had darkened the sunshine of 
 to-day. But there were some, full of the primeval in 
 stinct, who preserved the freshness of youth to their 
 latest years by the continual excitement of new ob 
 jects, new pursuits, and new associates ; and cared 
 little, though their birthplace might have been here 
 in New England, if the grave should close over them 
 in Central Asia. Fate was summoning a parliament 
 of these free spirits ; unconscious of the impulse which 
 directed them to a common centre, they had come 
 hither from far and near, and last of all appeared 
 the representative of those mighty vagrants who had 
 chased the deer during thousands of years, and were 
 chasing it now in the Spirit Land. Wandering down 
 through the waste of ages, the woods had vanished 
 around his path; his ami had lost somewhat of its 
 
THE SEVEN VAGABONDS. 409 
 
 strength, his foot of its fleetness, his mien of its wild 
 regality, his heart and mind of their savage virtue and 
 uncultured force ; but here, untamable to the routine 
 of artificial life, roving now along the dusty road as 
 of old over the forest leaves, here was the Indian still. 
 
 " Well," said the old showman, in the midst of my 
 meditations, "here is an honest company of us one, 
 two, three, four, five, six all going to the camp- 
 meeting at Stamford. Now, hoping no offence, I 
 should like to know where this young gentleman may 
 be going?" 
 
 I started. How came I among these wanderers? 
 The free mind, that preferred its own folly to an 
 other s wisdom; the open spirit, that found compan 
 ions everywhere; above all, the restless impulse, that 
 had so often made me wretched in the midst of enjoy 
 ments ; these were my claims to be of their society. 
 
 " My friends ! " cried I, stepping into the centre of 
 the wagon, " I am going with you to the camp-meet 
 ing at Stamford." 
 
 "But in what capacity?" asked the old showman, 
 after a moment s silence. " All of us here can get our 
 bread in some creditable way. Every honest man 
 should have his livelihood. You, sir, as I take it, are 
 a mere strolling gentleman." 
 
 I proceeded to inform the company that, when Xat- 
 ure gave me a propensity to their way of life, she had 
 not left me altogether destitute of qualifications for it ; 
 though I could not denv that my talent was less re- 
 
 o \j \J 
 
 spectable, and might be less profitable, than the mean 
 est of theirs. My design, in short, was to imitate the 
 story-tellers of whom Oriental travellers have told us, 
 and become an itinerant novelist, reciting my own ex 
 temporaneous fictions to such audiences as I could col 
 lect. 
 
410 TWICE-TOLD TALES. 
 
 "Either this," said I, "is my vocation, or I have 
 been born in vain." 
 
 The fortune-teller, with a sly wink to the company, 
 proposed to take me as an apprentice to one or other 
 of his professions, either of which, undoubtedly, would 
 have given full scope to whatever inventive talent I 
 might possess. The bibliopolist spoke a few words in 
 opposition to my plan, influenced partly, I suspect, by 
 the jealousy of authorship, and partly by an apprehen 
 sion that the viva voce practice would become general 
 among novelists, to the infinite detriment of the book 
 trade. Dreading a rejection, I solicited the interest 
 of the merry damsel. 
 
 " Mirth," cried I, most aptly appropriating the 
 words of L Allegro, " to thee I sue ! Mirth, admit 
 me of thy crew ! " 
 
 " Let us indulge the poor youth," said Mirth, with a 
 kindness which made me love her dearly, though I was 
 no such coxcomb as to misinterpret her motives. " I 
 have espied much promise in him. True, a shadow 
 sometimes flits across his brow, but the sunshine is 
 sure to follow in a moment. He is never guilty of a 
 sad thought, but a merry one is twin born with it. 
 We will take him with us ; and you shall see that he 
 will set us all a-laughing before we reach the camp- 
 meeting at Stamford." 
 
 Her voice silenced the scruples of the rest, and 
 gained me admittance into the league ; according to 
 the terms of which, without a community of goods or 
 profits, we were to lend each other all the aid, and 
 avert all the harm, that might be in our power. This 
 affair settled, a marvellous jollity entered into the 
 whole tribe of us, manifesting itself characteristically 
 in each individual. The old showman, sitting down, 
 
THE SEVEN VAGABONDS. 411 
 
 to his barrel organ, stirred up the souls of the pygmy 
 people with one of the quickest tunes in the music 
 book ; tailors, blacksmiths, gentlemen and ladies, all 
 seemed to share in the spirit of the occasion ; and the 
 Merry Andrew played his part more facetiously than 
 ever, nodding and winking particularly at me. The 
 young foreigner flourished his fiddle bow with a mas 
 ter s hand, and gave an inspiring echo to the show 
 man s melody. The bookish man and the merry dam 
 sel started up simultaneously to dance ; the former 
 enacting the double shuffle in a style which every 
 body must have witnessed ere Election week was 
 blotted out of time ; while the girl, setting her arms 
 akimbo with both hands at her slim waist, displayed 
 such light rapidity of foot, and harmony of varying 
 attitude and motion, that I could not conceive how she 
 ever was to stop ; imagining, at the moment, that Xat- 
 ure had made her, as the old showman had made his 
 puppets, for no earthly purpose but to dance jigs. 
 The Indian bellowed forth a succession of most hid 
 eous outcries, somewhat affrighting us till we inter 
 preted them as the war-song, with which, in imitation 
 of his ancestors, he was prefacing the assault on Stam 
 ford. The conjurer, meanwhile, sat demurely in a cor 
 ner, extracting a sly enjoyment from the whole scene, 
 and. like the facetious Mem- Andrew, directing his 
 queer glance particularly at me. 
 
 As for myself, with great exhilaration of fancy, I 
 began to arrange and color the incidents of a tale, 
 wherewith I proposed to amuse an audience that very 
 evening ; for I saw that my associates were a little 
 ashamed of me, and that 110 time was to be lost in ob 
 taining a public acknowledgment of my abilities. 
 
 " Come, fellow-laborers," at last said the old show- 
 
412 TWICE-TOLD TALES. 
 
 man, whom we had elected President ; " the shower is 
 over, and we must be doing our duty by these poor 
 souls at Stamford." 
 
 " We 11 come among them in procession with music 
 and dancing," cried the merry damsel. 
 
 Accordingly for it must be understood that our 
 pilgrimage was to be performed on foot we sallied 
 joyously out of the wagon, each of us, even the old 
 gentleman in his white top-boots, giving a great skip 
 as we came down the ladder. Above our heads there 
 was such a glory of sunshine and splendor of clouds, 
 and such brightness of verdure below, that, as I mod 
 estly remarked at the time, Nature seemed to have 
 washed her face, and put on the best of her jewelry 
 and a fresh green gown, in honor of our confederation. 
 Casting our eyes northward, we beheld a horseman ap 
 proaching leisurely, and splashing through the little 
 puddles on the Stamford road. Onward he came, 
 sticking up in his saddle with rigid perpendicularity, a 
 tall, thin figure in rusty black, whom the showman and 
 the conjurer shortly recognized to be, what his aspect 
 sufficiently indicated, - travelling preacher of great 
 fame among the Methodists. What puzzled us was 
 the fact that his face appeared turned from, instead of 
 to, the camp-meeting at Stamford. However, as this 
 new votary of the wandering life drew near the little 
 green space where the guide-post and our wagon were 
 situated, my six fellow-vagabonds and myself rushed 
 forward and surrounded him, crying out with united 
 voices, 
 
 " What news, what news from the camp-meeting at 
 Stamford?" 
 
 The missionary looked down in surprise at as singu- 
 lar a knot of people as could have been selected from 
 
THE SEVEN VAGABONDS. 418 
 
 all his heterogeneous auditors. Indeed, considering 
 that we might all be classified under the general head 
 of Vagabond, there was great diversity of character 
 among the grave old showman, the sly, prophetic beg 
 gar, the fiddling foreigner and his merry damsel, the 
 smart bibliopolist, the sombre Indian, and myself, the 
 itinerant novelist, a slender youth of eighteen. I even 
 fancied that a smile was endeavoring to disturb the 
 iron gravity of the preacher s mouth. 
 
 " Good people," answered he, " the camp-meeting is 
 broke up." 
 
 So saying, the Methodist minister switched his steed 
 and rode westward. Our union being thus nullified 
 by the removal of its object, we were sundered at once 
 to the four winds of heaven. The fortune-teller giv- 
 ing a nod to all, and a peculiar wink to me, departed 
 on his northern tour, chuckling within himself as he 
 took the Stamford road. The old showman and his 
 literary coadjutor were already tackling their horses 
 to the wagon, with a design to peregrinate southwest 
 along the sea-coast. The foreigner and the merry 
 damsel took their laughing leave, and pursued the 
 eastern road, which I had that day trodden ; as they 
 passed away, the young mar played a lively strain and 
 the girl s happy spirit broke into a dance : and thus, 
 dissolving, as it were, into sunbeams and gay music, 
 that pleasant pair departed from my view. Finally, 
 with a pensive shadow thrown across my mind, yet en 
 vious of the light philosophy of my late companions, I 
 joined myself to the Penobscot Indian and set forth 
 towards the distant city. 
 
THE WHITE OLD MAID. 
 
 THE moonbeams came through two deep and nar 
 row windows, and showed a spacious chamber richly 
 furnished in an antique fashion. From one lattice 
 the shadow of the diamond panes was thrown upon 
 the floor ; the ghostly light, through the other, slept 
 upon a bed, falling between the heavy silken curtains, 
 and illuminating the face of a young man. But, how 
 quietly the slumberer lay ! how pale his features ! and 
 how like a shroud the sheet was wound about his 
 frame ! Yes ; it was a corpse, in its burial clothes. 
 
 Suddenly, the fixed features seemed to move with 
 dark emotion. Strange fantasy ! It was but the 
 shadow of the fringed curtain waving betwixt the dead 
 face and the moonlight, as the door of the chamber 
 opened and a girl stole softly to the bedside. Was 
 there delusion in the moonbeams, or did her gesture 
 and her eye betray a gleam of triumph, as she bent 
 over the pale corpse pale as itself and pressed her 
 living lips to the cold ones of the dead ? As she drew 
 back from that long kiss, her features writhed as if 
 a proud heart were fighting with its anguish. Again 
 it seemed that the features of the corpse had moved 
 responsive to her own. Still an illusion ! The silken 
 curtain had waved, a second time, betwixt the dead 
 face and the moonlight, as another fair young girl un 
 closed the door, and glided, ghost-like, to the bedside. 
 There the two maidens stood, both beautiful, with the 
 pale beauty of the dead between them. But she who 
 
THE WHITE OLD MAID. 415 
 
 had first entered was proud and stately, and the other 
 a soft and fragile thing. 
 
 " Away ! " cried the lofty one. " Thou hadst him 
 living ! The dead is mine ! " 
 
 " Thine ! " returned the other, shuddering. " Well 
 hast thou spoken ! The dead is thine ! " 
 
 The proud girl started, and stared into her face 
 with a ghastly look. But a wild and mournful ex 
 pression passed across the features of the gentle one ; 
 and weak and helpless, she sank down on the bed, her 
 head pillowed beside that of the corpse, and her hair 
 mingling with his dark locks. A creature of hope and 
 joy, the first draught of sorrow had bewildered her. 
 
 " Edith ! " cried her rival. 
 
 Edith groaned, as with a sudden compression of the 
 heart ; and removing her cheek from the dead youth s 
 pillow, she stood upright, fearfully encountering the 
 eyes of the lofty girl. 
 
 " AVilt thou betray me? " said the latter, calmly. 
 
 " Till the dead bid me speak, I will be silent," an 
 swered Edith. " Leave us alone together ! Go, and 
 live many years, and then return, and tell me of thy 
 life. He, too, will be here! Then, if thou tellest of 
 sufferings more than death, we will both forgive thee." 
 
 "And what shall be the token? " asked the proud 
 girl, as if her heart acknowledged a meaning in these 
 wild words. 
 
 " This lock of hair," said Edith, lifting one of the 
 dark, clustering curls that lay heavily on the dead 
 man s brow. 
 
 The two maidens joined their hands over the bosom 
 of the corpse, and appointed a day and hour, far, far 
 in time to come, for their next meeting in that cham 
 ber. The statelier girl gave one deep look at the mo- 
 
416 TWICE-TOLD TALES. 
 
 tionless countenance, and departed yet turned again 
 and trembled ere she closed the door, almost believing 
 that her dead lover frowned upon her. And Edith, 
 too ! Was not her white form fading into the moon 
 light ? Scorning her own weakness she went forth, 
 and perceived that a negro slave was waiting in the 
 passage with a wax -light, which he held between her 
 face and his own, and regarded her, as she thought, 
 with an ugly expression of merriment. Lifting his 
 torch on high, the slave lighted her down the stair 
 case, and undid the portal of the mansion. The young 
 clergyman of the town had just ascended the steps, 
 and bowing to the lady, passed in without a word. 
 
 Years, many years, rolled on ; the world seemed 
 new again, so much older was it grown since the night 
 when those pale girls had clasped their hands across 
 the bosom of the corpse. In the interval, a lonely 
 woman had passed from youth to extreme age, and 
 was known by all the town as the " Old Maid in the 
 Winding Sheet." A taint of insanity had affected 
 her whole life, but so quiet, sad, and gentle, so utterly 
 free from violence, that she was suffered to pursue 
 her harmless fantasies, unmolested by the world, with 
 whose business or pleasures she had nought to do. 
 She dwelt alone, and never came into the daylight, 
 except to follow funerals. Whenever a corpse was 
 borne along the street in sunshine, rain, or snow: 
 whether a pompous train of the rich and proud 
 thronged after it, or few and humble were the mourn 
 ers, behind them came the lonely woman in a long 
 white garment which the people called her shroud. 
 She took no place among the kindred or the friends, 
 but stood at the door to hear the funeral prayer, and 
 walked in the rear of the procession, as one whose 
 
THE WHITE OLD MAID. 417 
 
 earthly charge it was to haunt the house of mourning, 
 and be the shadow of affliction, and see that the dead 
 were duly buried. So long had this been her custom 
 that the inhabitants of the town deemed her a part of 
 every funeral, as much as the coffin pall, or the very 
 corpse itself, and augured ill of the sinner s destiny 
 unless the " Old Maid in the Winding Sheet" came 
 gliding, like a ghost, behind. Once, it is said, she 
 affrighted a bridal party with her pale presence, ap 
 pearing suddenly in the illuminated hall, just as the 
 priest was uniting a false maid to a wealthy man, be 
 fore her lover had been dead a year. Evil was the 
 omen to that marriage ! Sometimes she stole forth by 
 moonlight and visited the graves of venerable Integ 
 rity, and wedded Love, and virgin Innocence, and 
 every spot where the ashes of a kind and f aithf ul heart 
 were mouldering. Over the hillocks of those favored 
 dead woidd she stretch out her arms, with a gesture, 
 as if she were scattering seeds ; and many believed 
 that she brought them from the garden of Paradise ; 
 for the graves which she had visited were green be 
 neath the snow, and covered with sweet flowers from 
 April to November. Her blessing was better than a 
 holy verse upon the tombstone. Thus wore away her 
 long, sad, peaceful, and fantastic life, till few were so 
 old as she, and the people of later generations won 
 dered how the dead had ever been buried, or mourners 
 had endured their grief, without the " Old Maid in 
 the Winding Sheet." 
 
 Still years went on, and still she followed funerals, 
 and was not yet summoned to her own festival of 
 death. One afternoon the great street of the town 
 was all alive with business and bustle, though the suii 
 now gilded only the upper half of the church spir**, 
 
 VOL. i. 27 
 
418 TWICE-TOLD TALES. 
 
 having left the housetops and loftiest trees in shadow. 
 The scene was cheerful and animated, in spite of the 
 sombre shade between the high brick buildings. Here 
 were pompous merchants, in white wigs and laced 
 velvet ; the bronzed faces of sea-captains ; the foreign 
 garb and air of Spanish Creoles ; and the disdainful 
 port of natives of Old England ; all contrasted with 
 the rough aspect of one or two back settlers, negoti 
 ating sales of timber from forests where axe had never 
 sounded. Sometimes a lady passed, swelling roundly 
 forth in an embroidered petticoat, balancing her steps 
 in high-heeled shoes, and courtesying with lofty grace 
 to the punctilious obeisances of the gentlemen. The 
 life of the town seemed to have its very centre not 
 far from an old mansion that stood somewhat back 
 from the pavement, surrounded by neglected grass, 
 with a strange air of loneliness, rather deepened than 
 dispelled by the throng so near it. Its site would 
 have been suitably occupied by a magnificent Ex 
 change or a brick block, lettered all over with various 
 signs ; or the large house itself might have made a 
 noble tavern, with the " King s Arms " swinging be 
 fore it, and guests in every chamber, instead of the 
 present solitude. But owing to some dispute about 
 the right of inheritance, the mansion had been long 
 without a tenant, decaying from year to year, and 
 throwing the stately gloom of its shadow over the 
 busiest part of the town. Such was the scene, and 
 such the time, when a figure unlike any that have 
 been described was observed at a distance down the 
 street. 
 
 " I espy a strange sail, yonder," remarked a Liver 
 pool captain ; " that woman in the long white gar- 
 ment ! " 
 
THE WHITE OLD MAID. 419 
 
 The sailor seemed much struck by the object, as 
 were several others who, at the same moment, caught 
 a glimpse of the figure that had attracted his notice. 
 Almost immediately the various topics of conversa 
 tion gave place to speculations, in an undertone, on 
 this unwonted occurrence. 
 
 " Can there be a funeral so late this afternoon ? " 
 inquired some. 
 
 They looked for the signs of death at every door 
 the sexton, the hearse, the assemblage of black-clad 
 relatives all that makes up the woful pomp of fu 
 nerals. They raised their eyes, also, to the sun-gilt 
 spire of the church, and wondered that no clang pro 
 ceeded from its bell, which had always tolled till now 
 when this figure appeared in the light of day. But 
 none had heard that a corpse was to be borne to its 
 home that afternoon, nor was there any token of a 
 funeral, except the apparition of the Old Maid in 
 the Winding Sheet." 
 
 u What may this portend ? " asked each man of his 
 neighbor. 
 
 All smiled as they put the question, yet with a cer 
 tain trouble in their eyes, as if pestilence or some 
 other wide calamity were prognosticated by the un 
 timely intrusion among the living of one whose pres 
 ence had always been associated with death and woe. 
 What a comet is to the earth was that sad woman to 
 the town. Still she moved on, while the hum of sur 
 prise was hushed at her approach, and the proud and 
 the humble stood aside, that her white garment might 
 not wave against them. It was a long, loose robe, of 
 spotless purity. Its wearer appeared very old, pale, 
 emaciated, and feeble, yet glided onward without the 
 unsteady pace of extreme age. At one point of her 
 
420 TWICE-TOLD TALES. 
 
 course a little rosy boy burst forth from a door, and 
 ran, with open arms, towards the ghostly woman, seem 
 ing to expect a kiss from her bloodless lips. She made 
 a slight pause, fixing her eye upon him with an expres 
 sion of no earthly sweetness, so that the child shivered 
 and stood awe-struck, rather than affrighted, while the 
 Old Maid passed on. Perhaps her garment might 
 have been polluted even by an infant s touch; perhaps 
 her kiss would have been death to the sweet boy within 
 a year. 
 
 " She is but a shadow," whispered the superstitious. 
 " The child put forth his arms and could not grasp her 
 robe!" 
 
 The wonder was increased when the Old Maid 
 passed beneath the porch of the deserted mansion, as 
 cended the moss-covered steps, lifted the iron knocker, 
 and gave three raps. The people could only conjec 
 ture that some old remembrance, troubling her bewil 
 dered brain, had impelled the poor woman hither to 
 visit the friends of her youth ; all gone from their 
 home long since and forever, unless their ghosts still 
 haunted it fit company for the " Old Maid in the 
 Winding Sheet." An elderly man approached the 
 steps, and, reverently uncovering his gray locks, es 
 sayed to explain the matter. 
 
 "None, Madam," said he, "have dwelt in this 
 house these fifteen years agone no, not since the 
 death of old Colonel Fenwicke, whose funeral you 
 may remember to have followed. His heirs, being 
 ill agreed among themselves, have let the mansion- 
 house go to ruin." 
 
 The Old Maid looked slowly round with a slight 
 gesture of one hand, and a finger of the other upon 
 her lip, appearing more shadow-like than ever in the 
 
 
 
THE WHITE OLD MAID. 421 
 
 obscurity of the porch. But again she lifted the ham 
 mer, and gave, this time, a single rap. Could it be 
 that a footstep was now heard coming down the stair 
 case of the old mansion, which all conceived to have 
 been so long untenanted ? Slowly, feebly, yet heavily, 
 like the pace of an aged and infirm person, the step 
 approached, more distinct on every downward stair, 
 till it reached the portal. The bar fell on the inside ; 
 the door was opened. One upward glance towards 
 the church spire, whence the sunshine had just faded, 
 was the last that the people saw of the * Old Maid in 
 the Winding Sheet." 
 
 " Who undid the door ? v asked many. 
 
 This question, owing to the depth of shadow be 
 neath the porch, no one could satisfactorily answer. 
 Two or three aged men, while protesting against an 
 inference which might be drawn, affirmed that the 
 person within was a negro, and bore a singular resem 
 blance to old CaBsar, formerly a slave in the house, but 
 freed by death some thirty years before. 
 
 " Her summons has waked up a servant of the old 
 family," said one, half seriously. 
 
 " Let us wait here," replied another. " More guests 
 will knock at the door, anon. But the gate of the 
 graveyard should be thrown open ! " 
 
 Twilight had overspread the town before the crowd 
 began to separate, or the comments on this incident 
 were exhausted. One after another was wending his 
 way homeward, when a coach no common spectacle 
 in those days drove slowly into the street. It was 
 an old-fashioned equipage, hanging close to the ground, 
 with arms on the panels, a footman behind, and a 
 grave, corpulent coachman seated high in front the 
 whole giving an idea of solemn state and dignity. 
 
422 TWICE-TOLD TALES. 
 
 There was something awful in the heavy rumbling of 
 the wheels. The coach rolled down the street, till, 
 coming to the gateway of the deserted mansion, it 
 drew up, and the footman sprang to the ground. 
 
 " Whose grand coach is this ? " asked a very in 
 quisitive body. 
 
 The footman made no reply, but ascended the steps 
 of the old house, gave three raps with the iron ham 
 mer, and returned to open the coach door. An old 
 man, possessed of the heraldic lore so common in that 
 day, examined the shield of arms on the panel. 
 
 " Azure, a lion s head erased, between three flower- 
 de-luces," said he; then whispered the name of the 
 family to whom these bearings belonged. Tire last 
 inheritor of his honors was recently dead, after a long 
 residence amid the splendor of the British court, where 
 his birth and wealth had given him no mean station. 
 " He left no child," continued the herald, " and these 
 arms, being in a lozenge, betoken that the coach ap 
 pertains to his widow." 
 
 Further disclosures, perhaps, might have been made, 
 had not the speaker suddenly been struck dumb by 
 the stern eye of an ancient lady who thrust forth her 
 head from the coach, preparing to descend. As she 
 emerged, the people saw that her dress was magnifi 
 cent, and her figure dignified, in spite of age and in 
 firmity a stately ruin but with a look, at once, of 
 pride and wretchedness. Her strong and rigid feat 
 ures had an awe about them, unlike that of the white 
 Old Maid, but as of something evil. She passed up 
 the steps, leaning on a gold-headed cane ; the door 
 swung open as she ascended and the light of a 
 torch glittered on the embroidery of her dress, and 
 gleamed on the pillars of the porch. After a momen- 
 
THE WHITE OLD MAID. 423 
 
 tary pause a glance backwards and then a des 
 perate effort she went in. The decipherer of the 
 coat of arms had ventured up the lowest step, and 
 shrinking back immediately, pale and tremulous, af 
 firmed that the torch was held by the very image of 
 old Cffisar. 
 
 " But such a hideous grin," added he, " was never 
 seen on the face of mortal man, black or white ! It 
 will haunt me till my dying day." 
 
 Meantime, the coach had wheeled round, with a 
 prodigious clatter on the pavement, and rumbled up 
 the street, disappearing in the twilight, while the ear 
 still tracked its course. Scarcely was it gone, when 
 the people began to question whether the coach and 
 attendants, the ancient lady, the spectre of old Caesar, 
 and the Old Maid herself, were not all a strangely 
 combined delusion, with some dark purport in its mys 
 tery. The whole town was astir, so that, instead of 
 dispersing, the crowd continually increased, and stood 
 gazing up at the windows of the mansion, now silvered 
 by the brightening moon. The elders, glad to indulge 
 the narrative propensity of age, told of the long-faded 
 splendor of the family, the entertainments they had. 
 given, and the guests, the greatest of the land, and 
 even titled and noble ones from abroad, who had 
 passed beneath that portal. These graphic reminis 
 cences seemed to call up the ghosts of those to whom 
 they referred. So strong was the impression on some 
 of the more imaginative hearers, that two or three 
 were seized with trembling fits, at one and the same 
 moment, protesting that they had distinctly heard 
 three other raps of the iron knocker. 
 
 " Impossible ! " exclaimed others. " See ! The 
 moon shines beneath the porch, and shows every part 
 
424 TWICE-TOLD TALES. 
 
 of it, except in the narrow shade of that pillar. There 
 is no one there ! " 
 
 " Did not the door open ? " whispered one of these 
 fanciful persons. 
 
 " Didst thou see it, too ? " said his companion, in a 
 startled tone. 
 
 But the general sentiment was opposed to the idea 
 that a third visitant had made application at the door 
 of the deserted house. A few, however, adhered to 
 this new marvel, and even declared that a red gleam 
 like that of a torch had shone through the great front 
 window, as if the negro were lighting a guest up the 
 staircase. This, too, was pronounced a mere fantasy. 
 But at once the whole multitude started, and each 
 man beheld his own terror painted in the faces of all 
 the rest. 
 
 " What an awful thing is this ! " cried they. 
 
 A shriek too fearfully distinct for doubt had been 
 heard within the mansion, breaking forth suddenly, 
 and succeeded by a deep stillness, as if a heart had 
 burst in giving it utterance. The people knew not 
 whether to fly from the very sight of the house, or to 
 rush trembling in, and search out the strange mys 
 tery. Amid their confusion and affright, they are 
 somewhat reassured by the appearance of their cler 
 gyman, a venerable patriarch, and equally a saint, 
 who had taught them and their fathers the way to 
 heaven for more than the space of an ordinary life 
 time. He was a reverend figure, with long, white 
 hair upon his shoulders, a white beard upon his breast, 
 and a back so bent over his staff that he seemed to 
 be looking downward continually, as if to choose a 
 proper grave for his weary frame. It was some time 
 before the good old man, being deaf and of impaired 
 
 
 
THE WHITE OLD MAID. 425 
 
 intellect, could be made to comprehend such portions 
 of the affair as were comprehensible at all. But, 
 when possessed of the facts, his energies assumed un 
 expected vigor. 
 
 " Verily," said the old gentleman, " it will be fitting 
 that I enter the mansion-house of the worthy Colonel 
 Fenwicke, lest any harm should haye befallen that 
 true Christian woman whom ve call the 4 Old Maid 
 in the Winding Sheet. 
 
 Behold, then, the venerable clergyman ascending the 
 steps of the mansion, with a torch-bearer behind him. 
 It was the elderly man who had spoken to the Old 
 Maid, and the same who had afterwards explained the 
 shield of arms and recognized the features of the ne 
 gro. Like their predecessors, they gave three raps 
 with the iron hammer. 
 
 44 Old Cassar cometh not," observed the priest. 
 " Well I wot he no longer doth service in this man 
 sion. * 
 
 u Assuredly, then, it was something worse, in old 
 Caesar s likeness ! " said the other adventurer. 
 
 " Be it as God wills," answered the clergyman. 
 " See ! my strength, though it be much decayed, hath 
 sufficed to open this heavy door. Let us enter and 
 pass up the staircase." 
 
 Here occurred a singular exemplification of the 
 dreamy state of a very old man s mind. As they 
 ascended the wide flight of stairs, the aged clergy 
 man appeared to move with caution, occasionally 
 standing aside, and oftener bending his head, as it 
 were in salutation, thus practising all the gestures of 
 one who makes his way through a throng. Reaching 
 the head of the staircase, he looked around with sad 
 and solemn benignit} , laid aside his staff, bared his 
 
426 TWICE-TOLD TALES. 
 
 hoary locks, and was evidently on the point of com- 
 mencing a prayer. 
 
 " Reverend Sir," said his attendant, who conceived 
 this a very suitable prelude to their further search, 
 " would it not be well that the people join with us in 
 prayer ? " 
 
 " Welladay ! " cried the old clergyman, staring 
 strangely around him. " Art thou here with me, 
 and none other? Verily, past times were present 
 to me, and I deemed that I was to make a funeral 
 prayer, as many a time heretofore, from the head of 
 this staircase. Of a truth, I saw the shades of many 
 that are gone. Yea, I have prayed at their burials, 
 one after another, and the Old Maid in the Winding 
 Sheet hath seen them to their graves ! " 
 
 Being now more thoroughly awake to their present 
 purpose, he took his staff and struck forcibly on the 
 floor, till there came an echo from each deserted cham 
 ber, but no menial to answer their summons. They 
 therefore walked along the passage, and again paused, 
 opposite to the great front window through which was 
 seen the crowd, in the shadow and partial moonlight of 
 the street beneath. On their right hand was the open 
 door of a chamber, and a closed one on their left. The 
 clergyman pointed his cane to the carved oak panel of 
 the latter. 
 
 "Within that chamber," observed he, "a whole 
 life-time since, did I sit by the death-bed of a goodly 
 young man, who, being now at the last gasp " 
 
 Apparently there was some powerful excitement in 
 the ideas which had now flashed across his mind. He 
 snatched the torch from his companion s hand, and 
 threw open the door with such sudden violence that 
 the flame was extinguished, leaving them no other 
 
THE WHITE OLD MAID. 427 
 
 light than the moonbeams, which fell through two 
 windows into the spacious chamber. It was sufficient 
 to discover all that could be known. In a high-backed 
 oaken arm-chair, upright, with her hands clasped 
 across her breast, and her head thrown back, sat the 
 "Old Maid in the Winding Sheet." The stately 
 dame had fallen on her knees, with her forehead 011 
 the holy knees of the Old Maid, one hand upon the 
 floor and the other pressed convulsively against her 
 heart. It clutched a lock of hair, once sable, now dis 
 colored with a greenish mould. As the priest and lay 
 man advanced into the chamber, the Old Maid s feat 
 ures assumed such a semblance of shifting expression 
 that they trusted to hear the whole mystery explained 
 by a single word. But it was only the shadow of a 
 tattered curtain waving betwixt the dead face and the 
 moonlight. 
 
 u Both dead ! " said the venerable man. " Then 
 who shall divulge the secret ? Methinks it glimmers 
 to and fro in my mind, like the light and shadow 
 across the Old Maid s face. And now t is gone ! " 
 
PETER GOLDTHWAITE S TREASURE. 
 
 " AND so, Peter, you won t even consider of the 
 business ? " said Mr. John Brown, buttoning his sur- 
 tout over the snug rotundity of his person, and draw 
 ing on his gloves. " You positively refuse to let me 
 have this crazy old house, and tlv> 1 and under and ad 
 joining, at the price named ? " 
 
 " Neither at that, nor treble the sum,* responded 
 the gaunt, grizzled, and threadbare Peter Goldthwaite. 
 " The fact is, Mr. Brown, you must find another site 
 for your brick block, and be content to leave my es 
 tate with the present owner. Next summer, I intend 
 to put a splendid new mansion over the cellar of the 
 old house." 
 
 " Pho, Peter ! " cried Mr. Brown, as he opened the 
 kitchen door ; " content yourself with building castles 
 in the air, where house-lots are cheaper than on earth, 
 to say nothing of the cost of bricks and mortar. Such 
 foundations are solid enough for your edifices, while 
 this underneath us is just the thing for mine ; and so 
 we may both be suited. What say you again?" 
 
 " Precisely what I said before, Mr. Brown," an 
 swered Peter Goldthwaite. " And as for castles in 
 the air, mine may riot be as magnificent as that sort of 
 architecture, but perhaps as substantial, Mr. Brown, 
 as the very respectable brick block with dry goods 
 stores, tailors shops, and banking rooms on the lower 
 floor, and lawyers offices in the second story, which 
 you are so anxious to substitute." 
 
PETER GOLDTHWAITE S TREASURE. 429 
 
 " And the cost, Peter, eh ? * said Mr. Brown, as he 
 withdrew, in something of a pet. u That, I suppose, 
 will be provided for, off-hand, by drawing a check on 
 Bubble Bank!" 
 
 John Brown and Peter Goldthwaite had been jointly 
 known to the commercial world between twenty and 
 thirty years before, under the firm of Goldthwaite & 
 Brown ; which copartnership, however, was speedily 
 dissolved by the natural incongruity of its constituent 
 parts. Since that event, John Brown, with exactly 
 the qualities of a thon sand other John Browns, and by 
 just such plodding methods as they used, had pros 
 pered wonderfully, and become one of the wealthiest 
 John Browns 011 earth. Peter Goldthwaite, on the con 
 trary, after innumerable schemes, which ought to have 
 collected all the coin and paper currency of the coun 
 try into his coffers, was as needy a gentleman as ever 
 wore a patch upon his elbow. The contrast between 
 him and his former partner may be briefly marked ; 
 for Brown never reckoned upon luck, yet always had 
 it ; while Peter made luck the main condition of his 
 projects, and always missed it. AVhile the means held 
 out, his speculations had been magnificent, but were 
 chiefly confined, of late years, to such small business 
 as adventures in the lottery. Once he had gone on 
 a gold-gathering expedition somewhere to the South, 
 and ingeniously contrived to empty his pockets more 
 thoroughly than ever : while others, doubtless, were 
 filling theirs with native bullion by the handful. More 
 recently he had expended a legacy of a thousand or 
 two of dollars in purchasing Mexican scrip, and 
 thereby became the proprietor of a province ; which, 
 however, so far as Peter could find out, was situated 
 where he might have had an empire for the same 
 
430 TWICE-TOLD TALES. 
 
 money, in the clouds. From a search after this val 
 uable real estate Peter returned so gaunt and thread 
 bare that, on reaching New England, fhe scarecrows 
 in the cornfields beckoned to him, as he passed by. 
 "They did but flutter in the wind," quoth Peter 
 Goldthwaite. No, Peter, they beckoned, for the scare 
 crows knew their brother ! 
 
 At the period -A our story his whole visible income 
 would not have paid the tax of the old mansion in 
 which we find him. It was one of those rusty, moss- 
 grown, many-peaked wooden houses, which are scat 
 tered about the streets of our elder towns, with a 
 beetle-browed second story projecting over the foun 
 dation, as if it frowned at the novelty around it. This 
 old paternal edifice, needy as he was, and though, 
 being centrally situated on the principal street of the 
 town, it would have brought him a handsome sum, the 
 sagacious Peter had his own reasons for never parting 
 with, either by auction or private sale. There seemed, 
 indeed, to be a fatality that connected him with his 
 birthplace ; for, often as he had stood on the verge of 
 ruin, and standing there even now, he had not yet 
 taken the step beyond it which would have compelled 
 him to surrender the house to his creditors. So here 
 he dwelt with bad luck till good should come. 
 
 Here then in his kitchen, the only room where a 
 spark of fire took off the chill of a November even 
 ing, poor Peter Goldthwaite had just been visited by 
 his rich old partner. At the close of their interview, 
 Peter, with rather a mortified look, glanced down 
 wards at his dress, parts of which appeared as ancient 
 as the days of Goldthwaite & Brown. His upper gar 
 ment was a mixed surtout, wofully faded, and patched 
 with newer stuff on each elbow ; beneath this he wore 
 
PETER GOLDTHWAITE J S TREASURE. 431 
 
 a threadbare black coat, some of the silk buttons of 
 which had been replaced with others of a different 
 pattern ; and lastly, though he lacked not a pair of 
 gray pantaloons, they were very shabby ones, and had 
 been partially turned brown by the frequent toasting 
 of Peter s shins before a scanty fire. Peter s person 
 was in keeping with his goodly apparel. Gray-headed, 
 hollow-eyed, pale-cheeked, and lean-bodied, he was 
 the perfect picture of a man who had fed on windy 
 schemes and empty hopes, till he could neither live on 
 such unwholesome trash, nor stomach more substantial 
 food. But, withal, this Peter Goldthwaite, crack- 
 brained simpleton as, perhaps, he was, might have cut 
 a very brilliant figure in the world, had he employed 
 his imagination in the airy business of poetry, instead 
 of making it a demon of mischief in mercantile pur 
 suits. After all, he was no bad fellow, but as harm 
 less as a child, and as honest and honorable, and as 
 much of the gentleman which nature meant him for, 
 as an irregular life and depressed circumstances will 
 permit any man to be. 
 
 As Peter stood on the uneven bricks of his hearth, 
 looking round at the disconsolate old kitchen, his eyes 
 bea aii to kindle with the illumination of an enthusi- 
 
 O 
 
 asm that never long deserted him. He raised his 
 hand, clinched it, and smote it energetically against 
 the smoky panel over the fireplace. 
 
 "The time is come!" said he. "With such a 
 treasure at command, it were folly to be a poor man 
 any longer. To-morrow morning I will begin with the 
 garret, nor desist till I have torn the house down ! " 
 
 Deep in the chimney-corner, like a witch in a dark 
 cavern, sat a little old woman, mending one of the 
 two pairs of stockings wherewith Peter Goldthwaite 
 
432 TWICE-TOLD TALES. 
 
 kept his toes from being frostbitten. As the feet were 
 ragged past all darning, she had cut pieces out of a 
 cast-off flannel petticoat, to make new soles. Tabitha 
 Porter was an old maid, upwards of sixty years of 
 age, fifty-five of which she had sat in that same chim 
 ney-corner, such being the length of time since Peter s 
 grandfather had taken her from the almshouse. She 
 had no friend but Peter, nor Peter any friend but 
 Tabitha ; so long as Peter might have a shelter for 
 his own head, Tabitha would know where to shelter 
 hers; or, being homeless elsewhere, she would take 
 her master by the hand and bring him to her native 
 home, the almshouso. Should it ever be necessary, 
 she loved him well enough to feed him with her last 
 morsel, and clothe him with her under petticoat. But 
 Tabitha was a queer old woman, and, though never 
 infected with Peter s flightiness, had become so accus 
 tomed to his freaks and follies that she viewed them 
 all as matters of course. Hearing him threaten to 
 tear the house down, she looked quietly up from her 
 work. 
 
 " Best leave the kitchen till the last, Mr. Peter," 
 said she. 
 
 " The sooner we have it all down the better," said 
 Peter Goldthwaite. " I am tired to death of living 
 in this cold, dark, windy, smoky, creaking, groaning, 
 dismal old house. I shall feel like a younger man 
 when we get into my splendid brick mansion, as, 
 please Heaven, we shall by this time next autumn. 
 You shall have a room on the sunny side, old Tabby, 
 finished and furnished as best may suit your own no 
 tions." 
 
 " I should like it pretty much such a room as this 
 kitchen," answered Tabitha. " It will never be like 
 
 
 
PETER GOLDTHWAITE S TREASURE. 433 
 
 home to me till the chimney-comer gets as black with 
 smoke as this ; and that won t be these hundred years. 
 How much do you mean to lay out on the house, Mr. 
 Peter ? " 
 
 " What is that to the purpose ? " exclaimed Peter, 
 loftily. " Did not my great-granduncle, Peter Gold- 
 thwaite, who died seventy years ago, and whose name 
 sake I am, leave treasure enough to build twenty 
 such ? " 
 
 " I can t say but he did, Mr. Peter," said Tabitha, 
 threading her needle. 
 
 Tabitha well understood that Peter had reference 
 to an immense hoard of the precious metals, which 
 was said to exist somewhere in the cellar or walls, or 
 under the floors, or in some concealed closet, or other 
 out-of-the-way nook of the house. This wealth, accord 
 ing to tradition, had been accumulated by a former 
 Peter Goldthwaite, whose character seems to have 
 borne a remarkable similitude to that of the Peter of 
 our story. Like him he was a wild projector, seeking 
 to heap up gold by the bushel and the cartload, in 
 stead of scraping it together, coin by coin. Like 
 Peter the second, too, his projects had almost invaria 
 bly failed, and, but for the magnificent success of the 
 final one, would have left him with hardly a coat and 
 pair of breeches to his gaunt and grizzled person. 
 Reports were various as to the nature of his fortunate 
 speculation : one intimating that the ancient Peter had 
 made the gold by alchemy ; another, that he had con 
 jured it out of people s pockets by the black art ; and 
 a third, still more unaccountable, that the devil had 
 given him free access to the old provincial treasury. 
 It was affirmed, however, that some secret impediment 
 had debarred him from the enjoyment of his riches, 
 
 VOL. i. 28 
 
434 TWICE-TOLD TALES. 
 
 and that he had a motive for concealing them from 
 his heir, or at any rate had died without disclosing the 
 place of deposit. The present Peter s father had faith 
 enough in the story to cause the cellar to be dug over. 
 Peter himself chose to consider the legend as an indis 
 putable truth, and, amid his many troubles, had this 
 one consolation that, should all other resources fail, 
 he might build up his fortunes by tearing his house 
 down. Yet, unless he felt a lurking distrust of the, 
 golden tale, it is difficult to account for his permitting 
 the paternal roof to stand so long, since he had never 
 yet seen the moment when his predecessor s treasure 
 would not have found plenty of room in his own strong 
 box. But now was the crisis. Should he delay the 
 search a little longer, the house would pass from the 
 lineal heir, and with it the vast heap of gold, to re 
 main in its burial-place, till the ruin of the aged walls 
 should discover it to strangers of a future generation. 
 
 " Yes ! " cried Peter Goldthwaite, again, " to-mor 
 row I will set about it." 
 
 The deeper he looked at the matter the more cer 
 tain of success grew Peter. His spirits were natur 
 ally so elastic that even now, in the blasted autumn of 
 his age, he could often compete with the spring-time 
 gayety of other people. Enlivened by his brightening 
 prospects, he began to caper about the kitchen like a 
 hobgoblin, with the queerest antics of his lean limbs, 
 and gesticulations of his starved features. Nay, in 
 the exuberance of his feelings, he seized both of Tab- 
 itha s hands, and danced the old lady across the floor, 
 till the oddity of her rheumatic motions set him into 
 a roar of laughter, which was echoed back from the 
 rooms and chambers, as if Peter Goldthwaite were 
 laughing in every one. Finally he bounded upward. 
 
PETER GOLDTHWAITE S TREASURE. 435 
 
 almost out of sight, into the smoke that clouded the 
 roof of the kitchen, and, alighting safely on the floor 
 again, endeavored to resume his customary gravity. 
 
 44 To-morrow, at sunrise," he repeated, taking his 
 lamp to retire to bed, " I 11 see whether this treasure 
 be hid in the wall of the garret." 
 
 44 And as we re out of wood, Mr. Peter," said Tab- 
 itha, puffing and panting with her late gymnastics, 
 44 as fast as you tear the house down, I 11 make a fire 
 with the pieces." 
 
 Gorgeous that night were the dreams of Peter 
 Goldthwaite ! At one time he was turning a ponder 
 ous key in an iron door not unlike the door of a 
 sepulchre, but which, being opened, disclosed a vault 
 heaped up with gold coin, as plentifully as golden corn 
 in a granary. There were chased goblets, also, and 
 tureens, salvers, dinner dishes, and dish covers of gold, 
 or silver gilt, besides chains and other jewels, incalcu 
 lably rich, though tarnished with the damps of the 
 vault ; for, of all the wealth that was irrevocably lost 
 to man, whether buried in the earth or sunken in the 
 sea, Peter Goldthwaite had found it in this one treas 
 ure-place. Anon, he had returned to the old house 
 as poor as ever, and was received at Ihe door by the 
 gaunt and grizzled figure of a man whom he might 
 have mistaken for himself, only that his garments 
 were of a much elder fashion. But the house, with 
 out losing its former aspect, had been changed into a 
 palace of the precious metals. The floors, walls, and 
 ceiling were of burnished silver ; the doors, the win 
 dow frames, the cornices, the balustrades, and the 
 steps of the staircase, of pure gold ; and silver, with 
 gold bottoms, were the chairs, and gold, standing on 
 silver legs, the high chests of drawers, and silver the 
 
436 TWICE-TOLD TALES. 
 
 be ilsteads, with blankets of woven gold, and sheets of 
 silver tissue. The house had evidently been trans 
 muted by a single touch ; for it retained all the marks 
 that Peter remembered, but in gold or silver instead 
 of wood ; and the initials of his name, which, when a 
 boy, he had cut in the wooden door-post, remained as 
 deep in the pillar of gold. A happy man would have 
 been Peter Goldthwaite except for a certain ocular 
 deception, which, whenever he glanced backwards, 
 caused the house to darken from its glittering mag 
 nificence into the sordid gloom of yesterday. 
 
 Up, betimes, rose Peter, seized an axe, hammer, 
 and saw, which he had placed by his bedside, and 
 hied him to the garret. It was but scantily lighted 
 up, as yet, by the frosty fragments of a sunbeam, 
 which began to glimmer through the almost opaque 
 bull s-eyes of the window. A moralizer might find 
 abundant themes for his speculative and impracticable 
 wisdom in a garret. There is the limbo of departed 
 fashions, aged trifles of a day, and whatever was valu 
 able only to one generation of men, and which passed 
 to the garret when that generation passed to the grave, 
 not for safe keeping, but to be out of the way. Peter 
 saw piles of yellow and musty account-books, in parch 
 ment covers, wherein creditors, long dead and buried, 
 had written the names of dead and buried debtors in 
 ink now so faded that their moss-grown tombstones 
 were more legible. He found old moth-eaten gar 
 ments all in rags and tatters, or Peter would have put 
 them on. Here was a naked and rusty sword, not a 
 sword of service, but a gentleman s small French 
 rapier, which had never left its scabbard till it lost it 
 Here were canes of twenty different sorts, but no 
 gold-headed ones, and shoe-buckles of various pattern 
 
 
 
PETER GOLDTHWAITE S TREASURE. 437 
 
 and material, but not silver nor set with precious 
 stones. Here was a large box full of shoes, with high 
 heels and peaked toes. Here, on a shelf, were a mul 
 titude of phials, half -filled with old apothecaries stuff, 
 which, when the other half had done its business on 
 Peter s ancestors, had been brought hither from the 
 death chamber. Here not to give a longer inven 
 tory of articles that will never be put up at auction 
 was the fragment of a full-length looking-glass, which, 
 by the dust and dimness of its surface, made the pict 
 ure of these old things look older than the reality. 
 When Peter, not knowing that there was a mirror 
 there, caught the faint traces of his own figure, he 
 partly imagined that the former Peter Goldthwaite 
 had come back, either to assist or impede his search 
 for the hidden wealth. And at that moment a strange 
 notion glimmered through his brain that he was the 
 identical Peter who had concealed the gold, and ought 
 to know whereabout it lay. This, however, he had 
 unacountably forgotten. 
 
 " Well, Mr. Peter ! " cried Tabitha, on the garret 
 stairs. " Have you torn the house down enough to 
 heat the teakettle ? " 
 
 "Not yet, old Tabby," answered Peter ; " but that 3 
 soon done as you shall see." 
 
 With the word in his mouth, he uplifted the axe, 
 and laid about him so vigorously that the dust flew, 
 the boards crashed, and, in a twinkling, the old woman 
 had an apron full of broken rubbish. 
 
 " We shall get our winter s wood cheap," quoth 
 Tabitha. 
 
 The good work being thus commenced, Peter beat 
 down all before him, smiting and hewing at the joists 
 and timbers, unclinching spike-nails, ripping and tear- 
 
438 TWICE-TOLD TALES. 
 
 ing away boards, with a tremendous racket, from 
 morning till night. He took care, however, to leave 
 the outside shell of the house untouched, so that the 
 neighbors might not suspect what was going on. 
 
 Never, in any of his vagaries, though each had 
 made him happy while it lasted, had Peter been hap 
 pier than now. Perhaps, after all, there was some 
 thing in Peter Goldthwaite s turn of mind, which 
 brought him an inward recompense for all the exter 
 nal evil that it caused. If he were poor, ill-clad, even 
 hungry, and exposed, as it were, to be utterly annihi 
 lated by a precipice of impending ruin, yet only his 
 body remained in these miserable circumstances, while 
 his aspiring soul enjoyed the sunshine of a bright fu 
 turity. It was his nature to be always young, and 
 the tendency of his mode of life to keep him so. Gray 
 hairs were nothing, no, nor wrinkles, nor infirmity ; 
 he might look old, indeed, and be somewhat disagree 
 ably connected with a gaunt old figure, much the 
 worse for wear; but the true,4he essential Peter was 
 a young man of high hopes, just entering on the world. 
 At the kindling of each new fire, his burnt-out youth 
 rose afresh from the old embers and ashes. It rose 
 exulting now. Having lived thus long not too long, 
 but just to the right age a susceptible bachelor, with 
 warm and tender dreams, he resolved, so soon as the 
 hidden gold should flash to light, to go a-wooing, and 
 win the love of the fairest maid in town. What heart 
 could resist him ? Happy Peter Goldthwaite ! 
 
 Every evening as Peter had long absented him 
 self from his former lounging-places, at insurance offi 
 ces, news-rooms, and bookstores, and as the honor of 
 his company was seldom requested in private circles 
 . he and Tabitha used to sit down sociably by the 
 
 
 
PETER GOLDTHWAITE S TREASURE. 439 
 
 kitehen hearth. This was always heaped plentifully 
 with the rubbish of his day s labor. As the founda 
 tion of the fire, there would be a goodly-sized backlog 
 of red oak, which, after being sheltered from rain or 
 damp above a century, still hissed with the heat, and 
 distilled streams of water from each end, as if the tree 
 had been cut down within a week or two. Next these 
 were large sticks, sound, black, and heavy, which had 
 lost the principle of decay, and were indestructible ex 
 cept by fire, wherein they glowed like red-hot bars of 
 iron. On this solid basis, Tabitha would rear a lighter 
 structure, composed of the splinters of door panels, 
 ornamented mouldings, and such quick combustibles, 
 which caught like straw, and threw a brilliant blaze 
 high up the spacious flue, making its sooty sides visi 
 ble almost to the chimney-top. Meantime, the gleam 
 of the old kitchen would be chased out of the cob 
 webbed corners, and away from the dusky cross-beams 
 overhead, and driven nobody could tell whither, while 
 Peter smiled like a gladsome man, and Tabitha seemed 
 a picture of comfortable age. All this, of course, was 
 but an emblem of the bright fortune which the de 
 struction of the house would shed upon its occupants. 
 
 While the dry pine was flaming and crackling, like 
 an irregular discharge of fairy musketry, Peter sat 
 looking and listening, in a pleasant state of excite 
 ment. But, when the brief blaze and uproar were suc 
 ceeded by the dark-red glow, the substantial heat, and 
 the deep singing sound, which were to last through 
 out the evening, his humor became talkative. One 
 night, the hundredth time, he teased Tabitha to tell 
 him something new about his great-granduncle. 
 
 " You have been sitting in that chimney-corner 
 fifty-five years, old Tabby, and must have heard many 
 
440 TWICE-TOLD TALES. 
 
 a tradition about him," said Peter. " Did not you 
 tell me that, when you first came to the house, there 
 was an old woman sitting where you sit now, who had 
 been housekeeper to the famous Peter Goldthwaite ? " 
 
 "So there was, Mr. Peter," answered Tabitha, " and 
 she was near about a hundred years old. She used to 
 say that she and old Peter Goldthwaite had often spent 
 a sociable evening by the kitchen fire pretty much 
 as you and I are doing now, Mr. Peter." 
 
 " The old fellow must have resembled me in more 
 points than one," said Peter, complacently, " or he 
 never would have grown so rich. But, methinks, he 
 might have invested the money better than he did 
 no interest ! nothing but good security ! and the 
 house to be torn down to come at it ! What made 
 him hide it so snug, Tabby ? " 
 
 "Because he could not spend it," said Tabitha; 
 "for as often as he went to unlock the chest, the 
 Old Scratch came behind and caught his arm. The 
 money, they say, was paid Peter out of his purse ; and 
 he wanted Peter to give him a deed of this house and 
 land, which Peter swore he would not do." 
 
 " Just as I swore to John Brown, my old partner," 
 remarked Peter. " But tliis is all nonsense, Tabby ! 
 I don t believe the story." 
 
 " Well, it may not be just the truth," said Tabitha ; 
 "for some folks say that Peter did make over the 
 house to the Old Scratch, and that s the reason it 
 has always been so unlucky to them that lived in it. 
 And as soon as Peter had given him the deed, the 
 chest flew open, and Peter caught up a handful of the 
 gold. But, lo and behold ! - there was nothing in his 
 fist but a parcel of old rags." 
 
 " Hold your tongue, you silly old Tabby ! " cried 
 
 
 
PETER GOLDTHWAITE S TREASURE. 441 
 
 Peter in great wrath. " They were as good golden 
 guineas as ever bore the effigies of the king of Eng 
 land. It seems as if I could recollect the whole cir 
 cumstance, and how I, or old Peter, or whoever it was, 
 thrust in my hand, or his hand, and drew it out all of 
 a blaze with gold. Old rags, indeed ! " 
 
 But it was not an old woman s legend that would 
 discourage Peter Goldthwaite. All night long he 
 slept among pleasant dreams, and awoke at daylight 
 with a joyous throb of the heart, which few are for 
 tunate enough to feel beyond their boyhood. Day 
 after day he labored hard without wasting a moment, 
 except at meal times, when Tabitha summoned him to 
 the pork and cabbage, or such other sustenance as she 
 had picked up, or Providence had sent them. Being a 
 truly pious man, Peter never failed to ask a blessing ; 
 if the food were none of the best, then so much the 
 more earnestly, as it was more needed ; nor to re 
 turn thanks, if the dinner had been scanty, yet for the 
 good appetite, which was better than a sick stomach 
 at a feast. Then did he hurry back to his toil, and, in 
 a moment, was lost to sight in a cloud of dust from 
 the old walls, though sufficiently perceptible to the ear 
 by the clatter which he raised in the midst of it. How 
 enviable is the consciousness of being usefully em 
 ployed! Nothing troubled Peter; or nothing but 
 those phantoms of the mind which seem like vague 
 recollections, yet have also the aspect of presentiments. 
 He often paused, with his axe uplifted in the air, and 
 said to himself, " Peter Goldthwaite, did you never 
 strike this blow before ? " or, " Peter, what need of 
 tearing the whole house down ? Think a little while, 
 and you will remember where the gold is hidden." 
 Days and weeks passed on, however, without any re- 
 
442 TWICE-TOLD TALES. 
 
 markable discovery. Sometimes, indeed, a lean, gray 
 rat peeped forth at the lean, gray man, wondering 
 what devil had got into the old house, which had al 
 ways been so peaceable till now. And, occasionally, 
 Peter sympathized with the sorrows of a female mouse, 
 who had brought five or six pretty, little, soft and 
 delicate young ones into the world just in time to 
 see them crushed by its ruin. But, as yet, no treas 
 ure ! 
 
 By this time, Peter, being as determined as Fate 
 and as diligent as Time, had made an end with the 
 uppermost regions, and got down to the second story, 
 where he was busy in one of the front chambers. It 
 had formerly been the state bed-chamber, and was 
 honored by tradition as the sleeping apartment of 
 Governor Dudley, and many other eminent guests. 
 The furniture was gone. There were remnants of 
 faded and tattered paper-hangings, but larger spaces 
 of bare wall ornamented with charcoal sketches, chiefly 
 of people s heads in profile. These being specimens of 
 Peter s youthful genius, it went more to his heart to 
 obliterate them than if they had been pictures on a 
 church wall by Michael Angelo. One sketch, how 
 ever, and that the best one, affected him differently. 
 It represented a ragged man, partly supporting him 
 self 011 a spade, and bending his lean body over a hole 
 in the earth, with one hand extended to grasp some 
 thing that he had found. But close behind him, with 
 a fiendish laugh on his features, appeared a figure with 
 horns, a tufted tail, and a cloven hoof. 
 
 " Avaunt, Satan ! " cried Peter. " The man shall 
 have his gold ! " 
 
 Uplifting his axe, he hit the horned gentleman such 
 a blow on the head as not only demolished him, but 
 
PETER GOLDTHWAITE S TREASURE. 443 
 
 the treasure-seeker also, and caused the whole scene to 
 vanish like magic. Moreover, his axe broke quite 
 through the plaster and laths, and discovered a cavity. 
 
 " Mercy on us, Mr. Peter, are you quarrelling with 
 the Old Scratch ? " said Tabitha, who was seeking 
 some fuel to put under the pot. 
 
 Without answering the old woman, Peter broke 
 down a further space of the wall, and laid open a 
 small closet or cupboard, on one side of the fireplace, 
 about breast high from the ground. It contained 
 nothing but a brass lamp, covered with verdigris, and 
 a. dusty piece of parchment. While Peter inspected 
 the latter, Tabitha seized the lamp, and began to rub 
 it with her apron. 
 
 " There is no use in nibbing it, Tabitha," said Peter. 
 " It is not Aladdin s lamp, though I take it to be a 
 token of as much luck. Look here, Tabby I " 
 
 Tabitha took the parchment and held it close to her 
 nose, which was saddled with a pair of iron-bound spec 
 tacles. But no sooner had she began to puzzle over it 
 than she burst into a chuckling laugh, holding both 
 her hands against her sides. 
 
 " You can t make a fool of the old woman ! " cried 
 she. " This is your own handwriting, Mr. Peter ! the 
 same as in the letter you sent me from Mexico." 
 
 "There is certainly a considerable resemblance," 
 said Peter, again examining the parchment. " But 
 you know yourself, Tabby, that this closet must have 
 been plastered up before you came to the house, or I 
 came into the world. Xo, this is old Peter Gold- 
 thwaite s waiting ; these columns of pounds, shillings, 
 and pence are his figures, denoting the amount of the 
 treasure ; and this at the bottom is, doubtless, a refer 
 ence to the place of concealment. But the ink has 
 
444 TWICE-TOLD TALES. 
 
 either faded or peeled off, so that it is absolutely illeg 
 ible. What a pity ! " 
 
 " Well, this lamp is as good as new. That s some 
 comfort," said Tabitha. 
 
 " A lamp ! " thought Peter. " That indicates light 
 on my researches." 
 
 For the present, Peter felt more inclined to ponder 
 on this discovery than to resume his labors. After 
 Tabitha had gone down stairs, he stood poring over 
 the parchment, at one of the front windows, which 
 was so obscured with dust that the sun could barely 
 throw an uncertain shadow of the casement across the 
 floor. Peter forced it open, and looked out upon the 
 great street of the town, while the sun looked in at his 
 old house. The air, though mild, and even warm, 
 thrilled Peter as with a dash of water. 
 
 It was the first day of the January thaw. The snow 
 lay deep upon the house-tops, but was rapidly dissolv 
 ing into millions of water-drops, which sparkled down 
 wards through the sunshine, with the noise of a sum 
 mer shower beneath the eaves. Along the street, the 
 trodden snow was as hard and solid as a pavement of 
 white marble, and had not yet grown moist in the 
 spring-like temperature. But when Peter thrust forth 
 his head, he saw that the inhabitants, if not the town, 
 were already thawed out by this warm day, after two 
 or three weeks of winter weather. It gladdened him 
 a gladness with a sigh breathing through it to 
 see the stream of ladies, gliding along the slippery 
 sidewalks, with their red cheeks set off by quilted 
 hoods, boas, and sable capes, like roses amidst a new 
 kind of foliage. The sleigh-bells jingled to and fro 
 continually : sometimes announcing the arrival of a 
 sleigh from Vermont, laden with the frozen bodies oi 
 
PETER GOLDTH WAITERS TREASURE. 445 
 
 porkers, or sheep, and perhaps a deer or two ; some 
 times of a regular market-man, with chickens, geese, 
 and turkeys, comprising the whole colony of a barn 
 yard ; and sometimes of a fanner and his dame, who 
 had come to town partly for the ride, partly to go 
 a-shopping, and partly for the sale of some eggs and 
 butter. This couple rode in an old-fashioned square 
 sleigh, which had served them twenty winters, and 
 stood twenty summers in the sun beside their door. 
 Now, a gentleman and lady skimmed the snow in an 
 elegant car, shaped somewhat like a cockle-shell. 
 Now, a stage-sleigh, with its cloth curtains thrust aside 
 to admit the sun, dashed rapidly down the street, 
 whirling in and out among the vehicles that obstructed 
 its passage. Now came, round a corner, the similitude 
 of Noah s ark on runners, being an immense open 
 sleigh with seats for fifty people, and drawn by a 
 dozen horses. This spacious receptacle was populous 
 with merry maids and merry bachelors, merry girls 
 and boys, and merry old folks, all alive with fun, and 
 grinning to the full width of their mouths. They kept 
 up a buzz of babbling voices and low laughter, and 
 sometimes burst into a deep, joyous shout, which the 
 spectators answered with three cheers, while a gang 
 of roguish boys let drive their snowballs right among 
 the pleasure party. The sleigh passed on, and, when 
 concealed by a bend of the street, was still audible by 
 a distant cry of merriment. 
 
 Never had Peter beheld a livelier scene than was 
 constituted by all these accessories : the bright sun, 
 the flashing water-drops, the gleaming snow, the cheer 
 ful multitude, the variety of rapid vehicles, and the 
 jingle jangle of merry bells which made the heart 
 dance, to their music. Nothing dismal was to be seen, 
 
44G TWICE-TOLD TALES. 
 
 except that peaked piece of antiquity, Peter Gold- 
 thwaite s house, which might well look sad externally, 
 since such a terrible consumption was preying on its 
 insides. And Peter s gaunt figure, half visible in the 
 projecting second story, was worthy of his house. 
 
 " Peter ! How goes it, friend Peter ? " cried a voice 
 across the street, as Peter was drawing in his head. 
 " Look out here, Peter ! " 
 
 Peter looked, and saw his old partner, Mr. John 
 Brown, on the opposite sidewalk, portly and comforta 
 ble, with his furred cloak thrown open, disclosing a 
 handsome surtout beneath. His voice had directed 
 the attention of the whole town to Peter Goldthwaite s 
 window, and to the dusty scarecrow which appeared 
 at it. 
 
 " I say, Peter," cried Mr. Brown again, " what the 
 devil are you about there, that I hear such a racket 
 whenever I pass by ? You are repairing the old 
 house, I suppose, making a new one of it, eh ? " 
 
 " Too late for that, I am afraid, Mr. Brown," re 
 plied Peter. " If I make it new, it will be new in 
 side and out, from the cellar upwards." 
 
 " Had not you better let me take the job ? " said 
 Mr. Brown, significantly. 
 
 " Not yet ! " answered Peter, hastily shutting the 
 window ; for, ever since he had been in search of the 
 treasure, he hated to have people stare at him. 
 
 As he drew back, ashamed of his outward poverty, 
 yet proud of the secret wealth within his grasp, a 
 haughty smile shone out on Peter s visage, with pre 
 cisely the effect of the dim sunbeams in the squalid 
 chamber. He endeavored to assume such a mien as 
 his ancestor had probably worn, when he gloried in 
 the building of a strong house for a home to many 
 
PETER GOLDTHWAITE S TREASURE. 447 
 
 generations of his posterity. But the chamber was 
 very dark to his snow-dazzled eyes, and very dismal 
 too, in contrast with the living scene that he had just 
 looked upon. His brief glimpse into the street had 
 given him a forcible impression of the manner in 
 which the world kept itself cheerful and prosperous, 
 by social pleasures and an intercourse of business, 
 while he, in seclusion, was pursuing an object that 
 might possibly be a phantasm, by a method which 
 most people would call madness. It is one great ad 
 vantage of a gregarious mode of life that each person 
 rectifies his mind by other minds, and squares his con 
 duct to that of his neighbors, so as seldom to be lost 
 in eccentricity. Peter Goldthwaite had exposed him 
 self to this influence by merely looking out of the 
 window. For a while, he doubted whether there were 
 any hidden chest of gold, and, in that case, whether 
 he was so exceedingly wise to tear the house down, 
 only to be convinced of its non-existence. 
 
 But this was. momentary. Peter, the Destroyer, 
 resumed the task which fate had assigned him, nor 
 faltered again till it was accomplished. In the course 
 of his search, he met with many things that are usually 
 found in the ruins of an old house, and also with some 
 that are not. What seemed most to the purpose was 
 a rusty key, which had been thrust into a chink of the 
 wall, with a wooden label appended to the handle, 
 bearing the initials, P. G. Another singular discovery 
 was that of a bottle of wine, walled up in an old oven. 
 A tradition ran in the family, that Peter s grand 
 father, a jovial officer in the old French War, had set 
 aside many dozens of the precious liquor for the ben 
 efit of topers then unborn. Peter needed no cordial to 
 sustain his hopes, and therefore kept the wine to glad- 
 
448 TWICE-TOLD TALES. 
 
 den his success. Many halfpence did he pick up, that 
 had been lost through the cracks of the floor, and 
 some few Spanish coins, and the half of a broken six 
 pence, which had doubtless been a love token. There 
 was likewise a silver coronation medal of George the 
 Third. But old Peter Goldthwaite s strong box fled 
 from one dark corner to another, or otherwise eluded 
 the second Peter s clutches, till, should he seek much 
 farther, he must burrow into the earth. 
 
 We will not follow him in his triumphant progress, 
 step by step. Suffice it that Peter worked like a 
 steam-engine, and finished, in that one winter, the job 
 which all the former inhabitants of the house, with 
 time and the elements to aid them, had only half done 
 in a century. Except the kitchen, every room and 
 chamber was now gutted. The house was nothing but 
 a shell, the apparition of a house, as unreal as the 
 painted edifices of a theatre. It was like the perfect 
 rind of a great cheese, in which a mouse had dwelt 
 and nibbled till it was a cheese 110 more. And Peter 
 was the mouse. 
 
 What Peter had torn down, Tabitha had burned 
 up ; for she wisely considered that, without a house, 
 they should need no wood to warm it ; and therefore 
 economy was nonsense. Thus the whole house might 
 be said to have dissolved in smoke, and flown up 
 among the clouds, through the great black flue of the 
 kitchen chimney. It was an admirable parallel to 
 the feat of the man who jumped down his own throat. 
 
 On the night between the last day of winter and 
 the first of spring, every chink and cranny had been 
 ransacked, except within the precincts of the kitchen. 
 This fated evening was an ugly one. A snow-stoirn 
 had set in some hours before, and was still driven 
 
PETER GOLDTHWAITE S TREASURE. 449 
 
 and tossed about the atmosphere by a real hurricane, 
 which fought against the house as if the prince of the 
 air, in person, were putting the final stroke to Peter s 
 labors. The framework being so much weakened, 
 and the inward props removed, it would have been no 
 marvel if, in some stronger wrestle of the blast, the 
 rotten walls of the edifice, and all the peaked roofs, 
 had come crushing down upon the owner s head. He, 
 however, was careless of the peril, but as wild and rest 
 less as the night itself, or as the flame that quivered 
 up the chimney at each roar of the tempestuous wind. 
 
 " The wine, Tabitha ! " he cried. " My grandfather s 
 rich old wine ! We will drink it now ! " 
 
 Tabitha arose from her smoke-blackened bench in 
 the chimney-corner, and placed the bottle before Pe 
 ter, close beside the old brass lamp, which had like 
 wise been the prize of his researches. Peter held it 
 before his eyes, and, looking through the liquid me 
 dium, beheld the kitchen illuminated with a golden 
 glory, which also enveloped Tabitha and gilded her 
 silver hair, and converted her mean garments into 
 robes of queenly splendor. It reminded him of his 
 golden dream. 
 
 "Mr. Peter," remarked Tabitha, "must the wine 
 be drunk before the money is found ? " 
 
 " The money is found ! " exclaimed Peter, with a 
 sort of fierceness. " The chest is within my reach. I 
 will not sleep, till I have turned this key in the rusty 
 lock. But, first of all, let us drink ! " 
 
 There being no corkscrew in the house, he smote 
 the neck of the bottle with old Peter Goldthwaite s 
 rusty key, and decapitated the sealed cork at a single 
 blow. He then filled two little china teacups, which 
 Tabitha had brought from the cupboard. So clear 
 
 VOL. i. 29 
 
450 TWICE-TOLD TALES. 
 
 and brilliant was this aged wine that it shone within 
 the cups, and rendered the sprig of scarlet flowers, at 
 the bottom of each, more distinctly visible than when 
 there had been no wine there. Its rich and delicate 
 perfume wasted itself round the kitchen. 
 
 " Drink, Tabitha ! " cried Peter. " Blessings on the 
 honest old fellow who set aside this good liquor for 
 you and me! And here s to Peter Goldthwaite s 
 memory ! " 
 
 " And good cause have we to remember him," quoth 
 Tabitha, as she drank. 
 
 How many years, and through what changes of 
 fortune and various calamity, had that bottle hoarded 
 up its effervescent joy, to be quaffed at last by two 
 such boon companions ! A portion of the happiness 
 of the former age had been kept for them, and was 
 now set free, in a crowd of rejoicing visions, to sport 
 amid the storm and desolation of the present time. 
 Until they have finished the bottle, we must turn our 
 eyes elsewhere. 
 
 It so chanced that, on this stormy night, Mr. John 
 Brown found himself ill at ease in his wire-cushioned 
 arm-chair, by the glowing grate of anthracite which 
 heated his handsome parlor. He was naturally a good 
 sort of a man, and kind and pitiful whenever the mis 
 fortunes of others happened to reach his heart through 
 the padded vest of his own prosperity. This evening 
 he had thought much about his old partner, Peter 
 Goldthwaite, his strange vagaries, and continual ill 
 luck, the poverty of his dwelling, at Mr. Brown s last 
 visit, and Peter s crazed and haggard aspect when he 
 had talked with him at the window. 
 
 " Poor fellow ! " thought Mr. John Brown. " Poor, 
 crackbrained Peter Goldthwaite ! For old acquaint 
 
PETER GOLDTHWAITE S TREASURE. 451 
 
 ance sake, I ought to have taken care that he was 
 comfortable this rough winter." 
 
 These feelings grew so powerful that, in spite of 
 the inclement weather, he resolved to visit Peter 
 Goldthwaite immediately. The strength of the im 
 pulse was really singular. Every shriek of the blast 
 seemed a summons, or would have seemed so, had Mr. 
 Brown been accustomed to hear the echoes of his own 
 fancy in the wind. Much amazed at such active be 
 nevolence, he huddled himself in his cloak, muffled his 
 throat and ears in comforters and handkerchiefs, and, 
 thus fortified, bade defiance to the tempest. But the 
 powers of the air had rather the best of the battle. 
 Mr. Brown was just weathering the corner, by Peter 
 Goldthwaite s house, when the hurricane caught him 
 off his feet, tossed him face downward into a snow 
 bank, and proceeded to bury his protuberant part be 
 neath fresh drifts. There seemed little hope of his 
 reappearance earlier than the next thaw. At the 
 same moment his hat was snatched away, and whirled 
 aloft into some far distant region, whence no tidings 
 have as yet returned. 
 
 Nevertheless Mr. Brown contrived to burrow a pas 
 sage through the snow-drift, and, with his bare head 
 bent against the storm, floundered onward to Peter s 
 door. There was such a creaking and groaning and 
 rattling, and such an ominous shaking throughout the 
 crazy edifice, that the loudest rap would have been 
 inaudible to those within. He therefore entered, with 
 out ceremony, and groped his way to the kitchen. 
 
 His intrusion, even there, was unnoticed. Peter and 
 Tabitha stood with their backs to the door, stooping 
 over a large chest, which, apparently, they had just 
 dragged from a cavity, or concealed closet, on the left 
 
452 TWICE-TOLD TALES. 
 
 side of the chimney. By the lamp in the old woman s 
 hand, Mr. Brown saw that the chest was barred and 
 clamped with iron, strengthened with iron plates and 
 studded with iron nails, so as to be a fit receptacle in 
 which the wealth of one century might be hoarded up 
 for the wants of another. Peter Goldthwaite was in 
 serting a key into the lock. 
 
 " O Tabitha ! " cried he, with tremulous rapture, 
 "how shall I endure the effulgence? The gold! 
 the bright, bright gold ! Methinks I can remember 
 my last glance at it, just as the iron-plated lid fell 
 down. And ever since, being seventy years, it has 
 been blazing in secret, and gathering its splendor 
 against this glorious moment ! It will flash upon us 
 like the noonday sun ! " 
 
 " Then shade your eyes, Mr. Peter ! " said Tabitha, 
 with somewhat less patience than usual. " But, for 
 mercy s sake, do turn the key ! " 
 
 And, with a strong effort of both hands, Peter did 
 force the rusty key through the intricacies of the rusty 
 lock. Mr. Brown, in the mean time, had drawn near, 
 and thrust his eager visage between those of the other 
 two, at the instant that Peter threw up the lid. No 
 sudden blaze illuminated the kitchen. 
 
 " What s here ? " exclaimed Tabitha, adjusting her 
 spectacles, and holding the lamp over the open chest. 
 " Old Peter Goldthwaite s hoard of old rags." 
 
 " Pretty much so, Tabby," said Mr. Brown, lifting 
 a handful of the treasure. 
 
 Oh, what a ghost of dead and buried wealth had 
 Peter Goldthwaite raised, to scare himself out of his 
 scanty wits withal ! Here was the semblance of an 
 incalculable sum, enough to purchase the whole town, 
 and build every street anew, but which, vast as it was, 
 
 
 
PETER GOLDTHWAITE S TREASURE. 453 
 
 no sane man would have given a solid sixpence for. 
 What then, in sober earnest, were the delusive treas 
 ures of the chest? "Why, here were old provincial 
 bills of credit, and treasury notes, and bills of land, 
 banks, and all other bubbles of the sort, from the first 
 issue, above a century and a half ago, down nearly 
 to the Revolution. Bills of a thousand pounds were 
 intermixed with parchment pennies, and worth no more 
 than they. 
 
 "And this, then, is old Peter Goldth waiters treas 
 ure!" said John Brown. "Your namesake, Peter, 
 was something like yourself ; and, when the provincial 
 currency had depreciated fifty or seventy-five per cent., 
 he bought it up in expectation of a rise. I have heard 
 my grandfather say that old Peter gave his father a 
 mortgage of this very house and land, to raise cash for 
 his silly project. But the currency kept sinking, till 
 nobody would take it as a gift : and there was old 
 Peter Goldthwaite, like Peter the second, with thou 
 sands in his strong box and hardly a coat to his back. 
 He went mad upon the strength of it. But, never 
 mind, Peter ! It is just the sort of capital for build 
 ing castles in the air." 
 
 " The house will be down about our ears ! " cried 
 Tabitha, as the wind shook it with increasing violence. 
 
 " Let it fall ! " said Peter, folding his arms, as he 
 seated himself upon the chest. 
 
 " Xo, no, my old friend Peter," said John Brown. 
 " I have house room for you and Tabby, and a safe 
 vault for the chest of treasure. To-morrow we will 
 try to come to an agreement about the sale of this 
 old house. Real estate is well up, and I could afford 
 you a pretty handsome price." 
 
 " And I," observed Peter Goldthwaite, with reviv- 
 
454 TWICE-TOLD TALES. 
 
 ing spirits, "have a plan for laying out the cash to 
 great advantage." 
 
 " Why, as to that," muttered John Brown to him 
 self, " we must apply to the next court for a guardian 
 to take care of the solid cash ; and if Peter insists 
 upon speculating, he may do it, to his heart s content, 
 with old PETER GOLDTHWAITE S TREASURE." 
 
 
 
CHIPPIXGS WITH A CHISEL. 
 
 PASSING a summer, several years since, at Edgar- 
 town, on the island of Martha s Vineyard, I became 
 acquainted with a certain carver of tombstones, who 
 had travelled and voyaged thither from the interior of 
 Massachusetts, in search of professional employment. 
 The speculation had turned out so successful that my 
 friend expected to transmute slate and marble into 
 silver and gold, to the amount of at least a thousand 
 dollars, during the few months of his sojourn at Xan- 
 tucket and the Vineyard. The secluded life, and the 
 simple and primitive spirit which still characterizes 
 the inhabitants of those islands, especially of Martha s 
 Vineyard, insure their dead friends a longer and dearer 
 remembrance than the daily novelty and revolving bus 
 tle of the world can elsewhere afford to beings of the 
 past. Yet while every family is anxious to erect a me 
 morial to its departed members, the untainted breath 
 of ocean bestows such health and length of days upon 
 the people of the isles, as w r ould cause a melancholy 
 dearth of business to a resident artist in that line. 
 His own monument, recording his death by starva 
 tion, would probably be an early specimen of his skill. 
 Gravestones, therefore, have generally been an article 
 of imported merchandise. 
 
 In my walks through the burial-ground of Edgar- 
 town where the dead have lain so long that the soil, 
 once enriched by their decay, has returned to its orig 
 inal barrenness in that ancient burial-ground I no- 
 
456 TWICE-TOLD TALES. 
 
 ticed much variety of monumental sculpture. The 
 elder stones, dated a century back or more, have bor 
 ders elaborately carved with flowers, and are adorned 
 with a multiplicity of death s heads, cross-bones, scythes, 
 hour-glasses, and other lugubrious emblems of mortal 
 ity, with here and there a winged cherub to direct the 
 mourner s spirit upward. These productions of Gothic 
 taste must have been quite beyond the colonial skill 
 of the day, and were probably carved in London, and 
 brought across the ocean to commemorate the defunct 
 worthies of this lonely isle. The more recent monu 
 ments are mere slabs of slate, in the ordinary style, 
 without any superfluous flourishes to set off the bald 
 inscriptions. But others and those far the most im 
 pressive both to my taste and feelings were roughly 
 hewn from the gray rocks of the island, evidently by 
 the unskilled hands of surviving friends and relatives. 
 On some there were merely the initials of a name ; 
 some were inscribed with misspelt prose or rhyme, in 
 deep letters, which the moss and wintry rain of many 
 years had not been able to obliterate. These, these 
 were graves where loved ones slept ! It is an old 
 theme of satire, the falsehood and vanity of monu 
 mental eulogies ; but when affection and sorrow grave 
 the letters with their own painful labor, then we may 
 be sure that they copy from the record on their hearts. 
 My acquaintance, the sculptor, he may share that 
 title with Greenough, since the dauber of signs is a 
 painter as well as Kaphael, had found a ready mar 
 ket for all his blank slabs of marble, and full occupa 
 tion in lettering and ornamenting them. He was an 
 elderly man, a descendant of the old Puritan family 
 of Wigglesworth, with a certain simplicity and single 
 ness both of heart and mind, which, methinks, is more 
 
 
 
CHIPPING S WITH A CHISEL. 457 
 
 rarely found among us Yankees than in any other 
 community of people. In spite of his gray head and 
 wrinkled brow, he was quite like a child in all matters 
 save what had some reference to his own business ; he 
 seemed, unless my fancy misled me, to view mankind 
 in no other relation than as people in want of tomb 
 stones ; and his literary attainments evidently compre 
 hended very little, either of prose or poetry, which 
 had not, at one time or other, been inscribed on 
 slate or marble. His sole task and office among the 
 immortal pilgrims of the tomb the duty for which 
 Providence had sent the old man into the world as it 
 were with a chisel in his hand was to label the dead 
 bodies, lest their names should be forgotten at the 
 resurrection. Yet he had not failed, within a narrow 
 scope, to gather a few sprigs of earthly, and more than 
 earthly, wisdom, the harvest of many a grave. 
 
 And lugubrious as his calling might appear, he was 
 as cheerful an old soul as health and integrity and 
 lack of care could make him, and used to set to work 
 upon one sorrowful inscription or another with that 
 sort of spirit which impels a man to sing at his labor. 
 On the whole I found Mr. Wigglesworth an entertain 
 ing, and often instructive, if not an interesting, char 
 acter ; and partly for the charm of his society, and 
 still more because his work has an invariable attrac 
 tion for "man that is born of woman," I was accus 
 tomed to spend some hours a day at his workshop. 
 The quaintness of his remarks, and their not infre 
 quent truth a truth condensed and pointed by the 
 limited sphere of his view gave a raciness to his 
 talk, which mere worldliness and general cultivation 
 would at once have destroyed. 
 
 Sometimes we would discuss the respective merits 
 
458 TWICE-TOLD TALES. 
 
 of the various qualities of marble, numerous slabs of 
 which were resting against the walls of the shop ; or 
 sometimes an hour or two would pass quietly, without 
 a word on either side, while I watched how neatly his 
 chisel struck out letter after letter of the names of the 
 Nortons, the Mayhews, the Luces, the Daggets, and 
 other immemorial families of the Vineyard. Often, 
 with an artist s pride, the good old sculptor would 
 speak of favorite productions of his skill which were 
 scattered throughout the village graveyards of New 
 England. But my chief and most instructive amuse 
 ment was to witness his interviews with his customers, 
 who held interminable consultations about the form 
 and fashion of the desired monuments, the buried ex 
 cellence to be commemorated, the anguish to be ex 
 pressed, and finally, the lowest price in dollars and 
 cents for which a marble transcript of their feelings 
 might be obtained. Really, my mind received many 
 fresh ideas which, perhaps, may remain in it even 
 longer than Mr. Wigglesworth s hardest marble will 
 retain the deepest strokes of his chisel. 
 
 An elderly lady came to bespeak a monument for 
 her first love who had been killed by a whale in the 
 Pacific Ocean no less than forty years before. It was 
 singular that so strong an impression of early feeling 
 should have survived through the changes of her sub 
 sequent life, in the course of which she had been a 
 wife and a mother, and, so far as I could judge, a com 
 fortable and happy woman. Reflecting within myself, 
 it appeared to me that this lifelong sorrow as, in all 
 good faith, she deemed it was one of the most for 
 tunate circumstances of her history. It had given an 
 ideality to her mind ; it had kept her purer and less 
 earthly than she would otherwise have been, by draw 
 
CHIPPINGS WITH A CHISEL. 459 
 
 ing a portion of her sympathies apart from earth. 
 Amid the throng of enjoyments and the pressure of 
 worldly care, and all the warm materialism of this life, 
 she had communed with a vision, and had been the 
 better for such intercourse. Faithful to the husband 
 of her maturity, and loving him with a far more real 
 affection than she ever could have felt for this dream 
 of her girlhood, there had still been an imaginative 
 faith to the ocean-buried, so that an ordinary character 
 had thus been elevated and refined. Her sighs had 
 been the breath of heaven to her soul. The good 
 lady earnestly desired that the proposed monument 
 should be ornamented with a carved border of marine 
 plants, intertwined with twisted sea-shells, such as 
 were probably waving over her lover s skeleton, or 
 strewn around it in the far depths of the Pacific. 
 But Mr. Wigglesworth s chisel being inadequate to 
 the task, she was forced to content herself with a rose 
 hanging its head from a broken stem. After her de 
 parture, I remarked that the symbol was none of the 
 most apt. 
 
 " And yet," said my friend the sculptor, embodying 
 in this image the thoughts that had been passing 
 through my own mind, " that broken rose has shed its 
 sweet smell through forty years of the good woman s 
 life." 
 
 It was seldom that I could find such pleasant food 
 for contemplation as in the above instance. None of 
 the applicants, I think, affected me more disagreeably 
 than an old man who came, with his fourth wife hang 
 ing on his arm, to bespeak gravestones for the three 
 former occupants of his marriage-bed. I watched 
 with some anxiety to see whether his remembrance of 
 either were more affectionate than of the other two, 
 
460 TWICE-TOLD TALES. 
 
 but could discover no symptom of the kind. The 
 three monuments were all to be of the same material 
 and form, and each decorated, in bass-relief, with two 
 weeping willows, one of these sympathetic trees bend 
 ing over its fellow, which was to be broken in the midst 
 and rest upon a sepulchral urn. This, indeed, was Mr. 
 Wigglesworth s standing emblem of conjugal bereave 
 ment. I shuddered at the gray polygamist who had 
 so utterly lost the holy sense of individuality in wed 
 lock, that methought he was fain to reckon upon his 
 fingers how many women, who had once slept by his 
 side, were now sleeping in their graves. There was 
 even if I wrong him it is no great matter a glance 
 sidelong at his living spouse, as if he were inclined to 
 drive a thriftier bargain by bespeaking four grave 
 stones in a lot. I was better pleased with a rough old 
 whaling captain, who gave directions for a broad mar 
 ble slab, divided into two compartments, one of which 
 was to contain an epitaph on his deceased wife, and 
 the other to be left vacant, till death should engrave 
 his own name there. As is frequently the case among 
 the whalers of Martha s Vineyard, so much of this 
 storm-beaten widower s life had been tossed away on 
 distant seas, that out of twenty years of matrimony 
 he had spent scarce three, and those at scattered in 
 tervals, beneath his own roof. Thus the wife of his 
 youth, though she died in his and her declining age, 
 retained the bridal dew-drops fresh around her memory. 
 My observations gave me the idea, and Mr. Wiggles- 
 worth confirmed it, that husbands were more faithful 
 in setting up memorials to their dead wives than wid 
 ows to their dead husbands. I was not ill-natured 
 enough to fancy that women, less than men, feel so 
 sure of their constancy as to be willing to give a 
 
CHIPPINGS WITH A CHISEL. 461 
 
 pledge of it in marble. It is more probably the fact 
 that while men are able to reflect upon their lost 
 companions as remembrances apart from themselves, 
 women, on the other hand, are conscious that a por 
 tion of their being has gone with the departed whith 
 ersoever he has gone. Soul clings to soul ; the living 
 dust has a sympathy with the dust of the grave ; and, 
 by the very strength of that sympathy, the wife of the 
 dead shrinks the more sensitively from reminding the 
 world of its existence. The link is already strong 
 enough; it needs no visible symbol. And though a 
 shadow walks ever by her side, and the touch of a chill 
 hand is on her bosom, yet life, and perchance its nat 
 ural yearnings, may still be warm within her, and in 
 spire her with new hopes of happiness. Then would 
 she mark out the grave, the scent of which would be 
 perceptible on the pillow of the second bridal ? Xo 
 but rather level its green mound with the surrounding 
 earth, as if, when she dug up again her buried heart, 
 the spot had ceased to be a grave. Yet, in spite of 
 these sentimentalities, I was prodigiously amused by 
 an incident, of which I had not the good fortune to be 
 a witness, but which Mr. Wigglesworth related with 
 considerable humor. A gentlewoman of the town, 
 receiving news of her husband s loss at sea, had be 
 spoken a handsome slab of marble, and came daily to 
 watch the progress of my friend s chisel. One after 
 noon, when the good lady and the sculptor were in the 
 very midst of the epitaph, which the departed spirit 
 might have been greatly comforted to read, who 
 should walk into the workshop but the deceased him 
 self, in substance as well as spirit ! He had been 
 picked up at sea, and stood in no present need of 
 tombstone or epitaph. 
 
462 TWICE-TOLD TALES. 
 
 "And how," inquired I, "did his wife bear the 
 shock of joyful surprise ? " 
 
 " Why," said the old man, deepening the grin of a 
 death s-head, on which his chisel was just then em 
 ployed, " I really felt for the poor woman ; it was one 
 of my best pieces of marble and to be thrown away 
 on a living man ! " 
 
 A comely woman, with a pretty rosebud of a 
 daughter, came to select a gravestone for a twin 
 daughter, who had died a month before. I was im 
 pressed with the different nature of their feelings for 
 the dead ; the mother was calm and wofully resigned, 
 fully conscious of her loss, as of a treasure which she 
 had not always possessed, and, therefore, had been 
 aware that it might be taken from her ; but the daugh 
 ter evidently had no real knowledge of what death s 
 doings were. Her thoughts knew, but not her heart. 
 It seemed to me, that by the print and pressure which 
 the dead sister had left upon the survivor s spirit, her 
 feelings were almost the same as if she still stood side 
 
 O 
 
 by side and arm in arm with the departed, looking at 
 the slabs of marble ; and once or twice she glanced 
 around with a sunny smile, which, as its sister smile 
 had faded forever, soon grew confusedly overshad 
 owed. Perchance her consciousness was truer than 
 her reflection perchance her dead sister was a closer 
 companion than in life. The mother and daughter 
 talked a long while with Mr. Wigglesworth about a 
 suitable epitaph, and finally chose an ordinary verse of 
 ill-matched rhymes, which had already been inscribed 
 upon innumerable tombstones. But when we ridicule 
 the triteness of monumental verses, we forget that 
 Sorrow reads far deeper in them than we can, and 
 finds a profound and individual purport in what seems 
 
C HIPP INGS WITH A CHISEL. 463 
 
 so vague and inexpressive, unless interpreted by her. 
 She makes the epitaph anew, though the selfsame 
 words may have served for a thousand graves. 
 
 " And yet," said I afterwards to Mr. Wigglesworth, 
 " they might have made a better choice than this. 
 While you were discussing the subject, I was struck 
 by at least a dozen simple and natural expressions 
 from the lips of both mother and daughter. One of 
 these would have formed an inscription equally orig 
 inal and appropriate." 
 
 "No, no," replied the sculptor, shaking his head; 
 " there is a good deal of comfort to be gathered from 
 these little old scraps of poetry ; and so I always 
 recommend them in preference to any new-fangled 
 ones. And somehow, they seem to stretch to suit a 
 great grief, and shrink to fit a small one/ 
 
 It was not seldom that ludicrous images were excited 
 by what took place between Mr. Wiggles worth and 
 his customers. A shrewd gentlewoman, who kept a 
 tavern in the town, was anxious to obtain two or three 
 gravestones for the deceased members of her family, 
 and to pay for these solemn commodities by taking 
 the sculptor to board. Hereupon a fantasy arose in 
 my mind of good Mr. Wigglesworth sitting down to 
 dinner at a broad, flat tombstone, carving one of his 
 own plump little marble cherubs, gnawing a pair of 
 cross-bones, and drinking out of a hollow death s-head, 
 or perhaps a lachrymatory vase, or sepulchral urn, 
 while his hostess s dead children waited on him at the 
 ghastly banquet. On communicating this nonsensical 
 picture to the old man he laughed heartily, and pro 
 nounced my humor to be of the right sort. 
 
 " I have lived at such a table all my days," saii he, 
 "and eaten no small quantity of slate and marble." 
 
464 TWICE-TOLD TALES. 
 
 " Hard fare ! " rejoined I, smiling ; " but you seemed 
 to have found it excellent of digestion, too." 
 
 A man of fifty, or thereabouts, with a harsh, un 
 pleasant countenance, ordered a stone for the grave 
 of his bittter enemy, with whom he had waged warfare 
 half a lifetime, to their mutual misery and ruin. The 
 secret of this phenomenon was, that hatred had become 
 the sustenance and enjoyment of the poor wretch s 
 soul ; it had supplied the place of all kindly affections ; 
 it had been really a bond of sympathy between himself 
 and the man who shared the passion ; and when its 
 object died the unappeasable foe was the only mourner 
 for the dead. He expressed a purpose of being buried 
 side by side with his enemy. 
 
 " I doubt whether their dust will mingle," remarked 
 the old sculptor to me ; for often there was an earthli- 
 ness in his conceptions. 
 
 " Oh yes," replied I, who had mused long upon the 
 incident ; " and when they rise again, these bitter foes 
 may find themselves dear friends. Methinks what they 
 mistook for hatred was but love under a mask." 
 
 A gentleman of antiquarian propensities provided a 
 memorial for an Indian of Chabbiquidick, one of the 
 few of untainted blood remaining in that region, and 
 said to be an hereditary chieftain, descended from the 
 sachem who welcomed Governor Mayhew to the Vine 
 yard. Mr. Wigglesworth exerted his best skill to carve 
 a broken bow and scattered sheaf of arrows, in mem 
 ory of the hunters and warriors whose race was ended 
 here ; but he likewise sculptured a cherub, to denote 
 that the poor Indian had shared the Christian s hope 
 of immortality. 
 
 " Why," observed I, taking a perverse view of the 
 winged boy and the bow and arrows, " it looks more 
 like Cupid s tomb than an Indian chief s ! " 
 
CHTPPINGS WITH A CHISEL. 465 
 
 " You talk nonsense," said the sculptor, with the 
 offended pride of art ; he then added with his usual 
 good nature, " How can Cupid die when there are such 
 pretty maidens in the Vineyard ? " 
 
 " Very true," answered I and for the rest of the 
 day I thought of other matters than tombstones. 
 
 At our next meeting I found him chiselling an open 
 book upon a marble headstone, and concluded that it 
 was meant to express the erudition of some black- 
 letter clergyman of the Cotton Mather school. It 
 turned out, however, to be emblematical of the script 
 ural knowledge of an old woman who had never read 
 anything but her Bible : and the monument was a trib 
 ute to her piety and good works from the Orthodox 
 church, of which she had been a member. In strange 
 contrast with this Christian woman s memorial was 
 that of an infidel, whose gravestone, by his own di 
 rection, bore an avowal of his belief that the spirit 
 within him would be extinguished like a flame, and 
 that the nothingness whence he sprang would receive 
 him again. Mr. Wigglesworth consulted me as to the 
 propriety of enabling a dead man s dust to utter this 
 dreadful creed. 
 
 " If I thought," said he, " that a single mortal 
 would read the inscription without a shudder, my 
 chisel should never cut a letter of it. But when the 
 grave speaks such falsehoods, the soul of man will 
 know the truth by its own horror." 
 
 " So it will," said I, struck by the idea ; " the poor 
 infidel may strive to preach blasphemies from his 
 grave ; but it will be only another method of impress 
 ing the soul with a consciousness of immortality." 
 
 There was an old man by the name of Norton, 
 noted throughout the island for his greath wealth, 
 
 VOL. I. 30 
 
466 TWICE-TOLD TALES. 
 
 which he had accumulated by the exercise of strong 
 and shrewd faculties, combined with a most penurious 
 disposition. This wretched miser, conscious that he 
 had not a friend to be mindful of him in his grave, had 
 himself taken the needful precautions for posthumous 
 remembrance, by bespeaking an immense slab of 
 white marble, with a long epitaph in raised letters, 
 the whole to be as magnificent as Mr. Wiggles worth s 
 skill could make it. There was something very char 
 acteristic in this contrivance to have his money s 
 worth even from his own tombstone, which, indeed, 
 afforded him more enjoyment in the few months that 
 he lived thereafter, than it probably will in a whole 
 century, now that it is laid over his bones. This inci 
 dent reminds me of a young girl, a pale, slender, fee 
 ble creature, most unlike the other rosy and healthful 
 damsels of the Vineyard, amid whose brightness she 
 was fading away. Day after day did the poor maiden 
 come to the sculptor s shop, and pass from one piece 
 of marble to another, till at last she pencilled her 
 name upon a slender slab, which, I think, was of a 
 more spotless white than all the rest. I saw her no 
 more, but soon afterwards found Mr. Wigglesworth 
 cutting her virgin name into the stone which she had 
 chosen. 
 
 " She is dead poor girl," said he, interrupting the 
 tune which he was whistling, " and she chose a good 
 piece of stuff for her headstone. Now which of these 
 slabs would you like best to see your own name 
 upon?" 
 
 " Why, to tell you the truth, my good Mr. Wiggles- 
 worth," replied I, after a moment s pause, for the 
 abruptness of the question had somewhat startled me, 
 " to be quite sincere with you, I care little or noth 
 
CHIPPINGS WITH A CHISEL. 467 
 
 ing about a stone for my own grave, and am somewhat 
 inclined to scepticism as to the propriety of erecting 
 monuments at all over the dust that once was human. 
 The weight of these heavy marbles, though unfelt 
 by the dead corpse of the enfranchised soul, presses 
 drearily upon the spirit of the survivor, and causes 
 him to connect the idea of death with the dungeon- 
 like imprisonment of the tomb, instead of with the 
 freedom of the skies. Every gravestone that you ever 
 made is the visible symbol of a mistaken system. Our 
 thoughts should soar upward with the butterfly not 
 linger with the exuviae that confined him. In truth 
 and reason, neither those whom we call the living, and 
 still less the departed, have anything to do with the 
 grave." 
 
 " I never heard anything so heathenish ! " said Mr. 
 TTigglesworth, perplexed and displeased at sentiments 
 which controverted all his notions and feelings, and 
 implied the utter waste, and worse, of his whole life s 
 labor ; " would you forget your dead friends, the 
 moment they are under the sod ? " 
 
 " They are not under the sod," I rejoined ; " then 
 why should I mark the spot where there is no treasure 
 hidden ! Forget them ? No ! But to remember them 
 aright, I would forget what they have cast off. And 
 to gain the truer conception of DEATH, I would forget 
 the GRAVE!" 
 
 But still the good old sculptor murmured, and stum 
 bled, as it were, over the gravestones amid which he 
 had walked through life. Whether he were right or 
 wrong, I had grown the wiser from our companionship, 
 and from my observations of nature and character as 
 displayed by those who came, with their old griefs or 
 their new ones, to get them recorded upon his slabs of 
 
468 TWICE-TOLD TALES. 
 
 marble. And yet, with my gain of wisdom, I had 
 likewise gained perplexity; for there was a strange 
 doubt in my mind, whether the dark shadowing of this 
 life, the sorrows and regrets, have not as much real 
 comfort in them leaving religious influences out of 
 the question as what we term life s joys. 
 
THE SHAKER BRIDAL. 
 
 ONE day, in the sick chamber of Father Ephraim, 
 who had been forty years the presiding elder over the 
 Shaker settlement at Goshen, there was an assemblage 
 of several of the chief men of the sect. Individuals 
 had come from the rich establishment at Lebanon, 
 from Canterbury, Harvard, and Alfred, and from all 
 the other localities where this strange people have 
 fertilized the rugged hills of New England by their 
 systematic industry. An elder was likewise there, who 
 had made a pilgrimage of a thousand miles from a vil 
 lage of the faithful in Kentucky, to visit his spiritual 
 kindred, the children of the sainted mother Ann. He 
 had partaken of the homely abundance of their tables, 
 had quaffed the far-famed Shaker cider, and had 
 joined in the sacred dance, every step of which is be 
 lieved to alienate the enthusiast from earth, and bear 
 him onward to heavenly purity and bliss. His breth 
 ren of the north had now courteously invited him to 
 be present on an occasion, when the concurrence of 
 every eminent member of their community was pecul 
 iarly desirable. 
 
 The venerable Father Ephraim sat in his easy 
 chair, not only hoary headed and infirm with age, but 
 worn down by a lingering disease, which, it was evi 
 dent, would very soon transfer his patriarchal staff to 
 other hands. At his footstool stood a man and woman, 
 both clad in the Shaker garb. 
 
 " My brethren," said Father Ephraim to the sur- 
 
470 TWICE-TOLD TALES. 
 
 rounding elders, feebly exerting himself to utter these 
 few words, " here are the son and daughter to whom 
 I would commit the trust of which Providence is about 
 to lighten my weary shoulders. Read their faces, I 
 pray you, and say whether the inward movement of 
 the spirit hath guided my choice aright." 
 
 Accordingly, each elder looked at the two candi 
 dates with a most scrutinizing gaze. The man, whose 
 name was Adam Colburn, had a face sunburnt with 
 labor in the fields, yet intelligent, thoughtful, and 
 traced with cares enough for a whole lifetime, though 
 he had barely reached middle age. There was some 
 thing severe in his aspect, and a rigidity throughout 
 his person, characteristics that caused him generally 
 to be taken for a school-master, which vocation, in 
 fact, he had formerly exercised for several years. The 
 woman, Martha Pierson, was somewhat above thirty, 
 thin and pale, as a Shaker sister almost invariably is, 
 and not entirely free from that corpse-like appearance 
 which the garb of the sisterhood is so well calculated 
 to impart. 
 
 " This pair are still in the summer of their years," 
 observed the elder from Harvard, a shrewd old man. 
 " I would like better to see the hoar-frost of autumn 
 on their heads. Methinks, also, they will be exposed 
 to peculiar temptations, on account of the carnal de 
 sires which have heretofore subsisted between them." 
 
 " Nay, brother," said the elder from Canterbury, 
 " the hoar-frost and the black-frost hath done its work 
 on Brother Adam and Sister Martha, even as we 
 sometimes discern its traces in our cornfields, while 
 they are yet green. And why should we question the 
 wisdom of our venerable Father s purpose although 
 this pair, in their early youth, have loved one another 
 
THE SHAKER BRIDAL. 471 
 
 as the world s people love? Are there not many 
 brethren and sisters among us, who have lived long 
 together in wedlock, yet, adopting our faith, find their 
 hearts purified from all but spiritual affection ? " 
 
 Whether or 110 the early loves of A (lain and Martha 
 had rendered it inexpedient that they should now pre 
 side together over a Shaker village, it was certainly 
 most singular that such should be the final result of 
 many warm and tender hopes. Children of neighbor 
 ing families, their affection was older even than their 
 school-days , it seemed an innate principle, interfused 
 among all their sentiments and feelings, and not so 
 much a distinct remembrance, as connected with their 
 whole volume of remembrances. But, just as they 
 reached a proper age for their union, misfortunes had 
 fallen heavily on both, and made it necessary that they 
 should resort to personal labor for a bare subsistence. 
 Even under these circumstances, Martha Pierson 
 would probably have consented to unite her fate with 
 Adam Colburn s, and, secure of the bliss of mutual 
 love, would patiently have awaited the less important 
 gifts of fortune. But Adam, being of a calm and 
 cautious character, was loath to relinquish the advan 
 tages which a single man possesses for raising himself 
 in the world. Year after year, therefore, their mar 
 riage had been deferred. Adam Colburn had followed 
 many vocations, had travelled far, and seen much of 
 the world and of life. Martha had earned her bread 
 sometimes as a seamstress, sometimes as help to a 
 farmer s wife, sometimes as school-mistress of the vil 
 lage children, sometimes as a nurse or watcher of the 
 sick, thus acquiring a varied experience, the ultimate 
 use of which she little anticipated. But nothing had 
 gone prosperously with either of the lovers ; at no 
 
472 TWICE-TOLD TALES. 
 
 subsequent moment would matrimony have been so 
 prudent a measure as when they had first parted, in 
 the opening bloom of life, to seek a better fortune. 
 Still they had held fast their mutual faith. Martha 
 might have been the wife of a man who sat among 
 the senators of his native state, and Adam could have 
 won the hand, as he had unintentionally won the heart, 
 of a rich and comely widow. But neither of them de 
 sired good fortune save to share it with the other. 
 
 At length that calm despair which occurs only in a 
 strong and somewhat stubborn character, and yields to 
 no second spring of hope, settled down on the spirit of 
 Adam Colburn. He sought an interview with Martha, 
 and proposed that they should join the Society of 
 Shakers. The converts of this sect are oftener driven 
 within its hospitable gates by worldly misfortune than 
 drawn thither by fanaticism, and are received without 
 inquisition as to their motives. Martha, faithful still, 
 had placed her hand in that of her lover, and accom 
 panied him to the Shaker village. Here the natural 
 capacity of each, cultivated and strengthened by the 
 difficulties of their previous lives, had soon gained them 
 an important rank in the Society, whose members are 
 generally below the ordinary standard of intelligence. 
 Their faith and feelings had, in some degree, become 
 assimilated to those of their fellow-worshippers. Adam 
 Colburn gradually acquired reputation, not only in the 
 management of the temporal affairs of the Society, 
 but as a clear and efficient preacher of their doctrines. 
 Martha was not less distinguished in the duties proper 
 to her sex. Finally, when the infirmities of Father 
 Ephraim had admonished him to seek a successor in 
 his patriarchal office, he thought of Adam and Martha, 
 and proposed to renew, in their persons, the primitive 
 
 
 
THE SHAKER BRIDAL. 473 
 
 form of Shaker government, as established by Mother 
 Ann. They were to be the Father and Mother of the 
 village. The simple ceremony, which would consti 
 tute them such, was now to be performed. 
 
 4k Son Adam, and daughter Martha," said the vener 
 able Father Ephraim, fixing his aged eyes piercingly 
 upon them, " if ye can conscientiously undertake this" 
 charge, speak, that the brethren may not doubt of 
 your fitness." 
 
 " Father," replied Adam, speaking with the calm 
 ness of his character, " I came to your village a disap 
 pointed man, weary of the world, worn out with con 
 tinual trouble, seeking only a security against evil 
 fortune, as I had no hope of good. Even my wishes 
 of worldly success were almost dead within me. I 
 came hither as a man might come to a tomb, willing 
 to lie down in its gloom and coldness, for the sake of 
 its peace and quiet. There was but one earthly affec 
 tion in my breast, and it had grown calmer since my 
 youth ; so that I was satisfied to bring Martha to be 
 my sister, in our new abode. We are brother and 
 sister ; nor would I have it otherwise. And in this 
 peaceful village I have found all that I hoped for, 
 all that I desire. I will strive, with my best strength, 
 for the spiritual and temporal good of our community. 
 My conscience is not doubtful in this matter. I am 
 ready to receive the trust/ 
 
 u Thou hast spoken well, son Adam," said the Fa 
 ther. " God will bless thee in the office which I am 
 
 about to resign." 
 
 & 
 
 kk But our sister ! observed the elder from Har 
 vard, "hath she not likewise a gift to declare her 
 sentiments?" 
 
 Martha started, and moved her lips, as if she would 
 
474 TWICE-TOLD TALES. 
 
 have made a formal reply to this appeal. But, had 
 she attempted it, perhaps the old recollections, the 
 long-repressed feelings of childhood, youth, and wom 
 anhood, might have gushed from her heart, in words 
 that it would have been profanation to utter there. 
 
 " Adam has spoken," said she hurriedly ; " his sen 
 timents are likewise mine." 
 
 But while speaking these few words, Martha grew 
 so pale that she looked fitter to be laid in her coffin 
 than to stand in the presence of Father Ephraim and 
 the elders ; she shuddered, also, as if there were some 
 thing awful or horrible in her situation and destiny. 
 It required, indeed, a more than feminine strength of 
 nerve, to sustain the fixed observance of men so ex 
 alted and famous throughout the sect as these were. 
 They had overcome their natural sympathy with hu 
 man frailties and affections. One, when he joined the 
 Society, had brought with him his wife and children, 
 but never, from that hour, had spoken a fond word 
 to the former, or taken his best-loved child upon his 
 knee. Another, whose family refused to follow him, 
 had been enabled such was his gift of holy forti 
 tude to leave them to the mercy of the world. The 
 youngest of the elders, a man of about fifty, had been 
 bred from infancy in a Shaker village, and was said 
 never to have clasped a woman s hand in his own, and 
 to have no conception of a closer tie than the cold fra 
 ternal one of the sect. Old Father Ephraim was the 
 most awful character of all. In his youth he had 
 been a dissolute libertine, but was converted by Mother 
 Ann herself, and had partaken of the wild fanaticism 
 of the early Shakers. Tradition whispered, at the 
 firesides of the village, that Mother Ann had been 
 compelled to sear his heart of flesh with a red-hot iron 
 before it could be purified from earthly passions. 
 
THE SHAKER BRIDAL. 475 
 
 However that might be, poor Martha had a woman s 
 heart, and a tender one, and it quailed within her, as 
 she looked round at those strange old men, and from 
 them to the calm features of Adam Colburn. But 
 perceiving that the elders eyed her doubtfully, she 
 gasped for breath, and again spoke. 
 
 " With what strength is left me by my many 
 troubles," said she, " I am ready to undertake this 
 charge, and to do my best in it." 
 
 44 My children, join your hands," said Father 
 .Ephraim. 
 
 They did so. The elders stood up around, and the 
 Father feebly raised himself to a more erect position, 
 but continued sitting in his great chair. 
 
 " I have bidden you to join your hands," said he, 
 "not in earthly affection, for ye have cast off its 
 chains forever ; but as brother and sister in spiritual 
 love, and helpers of one another in your allotted 
 task. Teach unto others the faith which ye have re 
 ceived. Open wide your gates, I deliver you the 
 keys thereof, open them wide to all who will give 
 up the iniquities of the world, and come hither to lead 
 lives of purity and peace. Receive the weary ones, 
 who have known the vanity of earth, receive the 
 little children, that they may never learn that misera 
 ble lesson. And a blessing be upon your labors ,- so 
 that the time may hasten on, when the mission of 
 Mother Ann shall have wrought its full effect, when 
 children shall no more be born and die, and the last 
 survivor of mortal race, some old and weary man like 
 me, shall see the sun go down, nevermore to rise on a 
 world of sin and sorrow ! " 
 
 The aged Father sank back exhausted, and the sur 
 rounding elders deemed, with good reason, that the 
 
476 TWICE TOLD TALES. 
 
 hour was come when the new heads of the village 
 must enter on their patriarchal duties. In their atten 
 tion to Father Ephraim, their eyes were turned from 
 Martha Pierson, who grew paler and paler, unnoticed 
 even by Adam Colburn. He, indeed, had withdrawn 
 his hand from hers, and folded his arms with a sense 
 of satisfied ambition. But paler and paler grew Mar 
 tha by his side, till, like a corpse in its burial clothes, 
 she sank down at the feet of her early lover ; for, 
 after many trials firmly borne, her heart could endure 
 the weight of its desolate agony no longer. 
 
NIGHT SKETCHES. 
 
 BENEATH AN UMBRELLA. 
 
 PLEASANT is a rainy winter s day, within doors! 
 The best study for such a day, or the best amusement, 
 call it which you will, is a book of travels, de 
 scribing scenes the most unlike that sombre one which 
 is mistily presented through the windows. I have 
 experienced that fancy is then most successful in im 
 parting distinct shapes and vivid colors to the objects 
 which the author has spread upon his page, and that 
 his words become magic spells to summon up a thou 
 sand varied pictures. Strange landscapes glimmer 
 through the familiar walls of the room, and outlandish 
 figures thrust themselves almost within the sacred pre 
 cincts of the hearth. Small as my chamber is, it has 
 space enough to contain the ocean-like circumference 
 of an Arabian desert, its parched sands tracked by the 
 long line of a caravan, with the camels patiently jour 
 neying through the heavy sunshine. Though my ceil 
 ing be not lofty, yet I can pile up the mountains of 
 Central Asia beneath it, till their summits shine far 
 above the clouds of the middle atmosphere. And with 
 my humble means, a wealth that is not taxable, I can 
 transport hither the magnificent merchandise of an 
 Oriental bazaar, and call a crowd of purchasers from 
 distant countries to pay a fair profit for the precious 
 articles which are displayed on all sides. True it is, 
 however, that amid the bustle of traffic, or whatever 
 
478 TWICE-TOLD TALES. 
 
 else may seem to be going on around me, the rain-drops 
 will occasionally be heard to patter against my window 
 panes, which look forth upon one of the quietest streets 
 in a New England town. After a time, too, the vis 
 ions vanish, and will not appear again at my bidding. 
 Then, it being nightfall, a gloomy sense of unreality 
 depresses my spirits, and impels me to venture out, 
 before the clock shall strike bedtime, to satisfy myself 
 that the world is not entirely made up of such shad 
 owy materials as have busied me throughout the day. 
 A dreamer may dwell so long among fantasies, that 
 the things without him will seem as unreal as those 
 within. 
 
 When eve has fairly set in, therefore, I sally forth, 
 tightly buttoning my shaggy overcoat, and hoisting 
 my umbrella, the silken dome of which immediately 
 resounds with the heavy drumming of the invisible 
 rain-drops. Pausing on the lowest doorstep, I contrast 
 the warmth and cheerfulness of my deserted fireside 
 with the drear obscurity and chill discomfort into 
 which I am about to plunge. Now come fearful augu 
 ries, innumerable as the drops of rain. Did not my 
 manhood cry shame upon me I should turn back within 
 doors, resume my elbow-chair, my slippers, and my 
 book, pass such an evening of sluggish enjoyment as 
 the day has been, and go to bed inglorious. The 
 same shivering reluctance, no doubt, has quelled, for 
 a moment, the adventurous spirit of many a traveller, 
 when his feet, which were destined to measure the 
 earth around, were leaving their last tracks in the 
 home paths. 
 
 In my own case poor human nature may be allowed 
 a few misgivings. I look upward, and discern no sky 
 not even an unfathomable void, but only a black, in* 
 
NIGHT SKETCHES. 479 
 
 penetrable nothingness, as though heaven and all its 
 lights were blotted from the system of the universe. 
 It is as if Nature were dead, and the world had put on 
 black, and the clouds were weeping for her. With 
 their tears upon my cheek, I turn my eyes earthward, 
 but find little consolation here below. A lamp is 
 burning dimly at the distant corner, and throws just 
 enough of light along the street to show and exag 
 gerate by so faintly showing the perils and difficulties 
 which beset my path. Yonder dingily white remnant 
 of a huge snow-bank, which will yet cumber the 
 sidewalk till the latter days of March, over or 
 through that wintry waste must I stride onward. 
 Beyond lies a certain Slough of Despond, a concoc 
 tion of mud and liquid filth, ankle-deep, leg-deep, 
 neck-deep, in a word, of unknown bottom, on 
 which the lamplight does not even glimmer, but which 
 I have occasionally watched in the gradual growth of 
 its horrors from morn till nightfall. Should I flounder 
 into its depths, farewell to upper earth ! And hark ! 
 how roughly resounds the roaring of a stream, the 
 turbulent career of which is partially reddened by the 
 gleam of the lamp, but elsewhere brawls noisily 
 through the densest gloom. Oh, should I be swept 
 away in fording that impetuous and unclean torrent, 
 the coroner will have a job with an unfortunate gen 
 tleman who would fain end his troubles anywhere 
 but in a mud puddle ! 
 
 Pshaw ! I will linger not another instant at arm s- 
 
 O 
 
 length from these dim terrors, which grow more ob 
 scurely formidable the longer I delay to grapple with 
 them. Now for the onset ! And lo ! with little dam 
 age, save a dash of rain in the face and breast, a 
 splash of mud high up the pantaloons, and the left 
 
480 TWICE-TOLD TALES. 
 
 boot full of ice-cold water, behold me at the corner 
 of the street. The lamp throws down a circle of red 
 light around me : and twinkling onward from corner 
 to corner I discern other beacons marshalling my way 
 to a brighter scene. But this is a lonesome and dreary 
 spot. The tall edifices bid gloomy defiance to the 
 storm, with their blinds all closed, even as a man 
 winks when he faces a spattering gust. How loudly 
 tinkles the collected rain down the tin spouts ! The 
 puffs of wind are boisterous, and seem to assail me 
 from various quarters at once. I have often observed 
 that this corner is a haunt and loitering-place for those 
 winds which have no work to do upon the deep, dash 
 ing ships against our iron-bound shores ; nor in the 
 forest, tearing up the sylvan giants with half a rood of 
 soil at their vast roots. Here they amuse themselves 
 with lesser freaks of mischief. See, at this moment, 
 how they assail yonder poor woman, who*is passing 
 just within the verge of the lamplight ! One blast 
 struggles for her umbrella, and turns it wrong side 
 outward ; another whisks the cape of her cloak across 
 her eyes ; while a third takes most unwarrantable lib 
 erties with the lower part of her attire. Happily the 
 good dame is no gossamer, but a figure of rotundity 
 and fleshly substance ; else would these aerial tor 
 mentors whirl her aloft, like a witch upon a broom 
 stick, and set her down, doubtless, in the filthiest ken 
 nel hereabout. 
 
 From hence I tread upon firm pavements into the 
 centre of the town. Here there is almost as brilliant 
 an illumination as when some great victory has been 
 won, either on the battle-field or at the polls. Two 
 rows of shops, with windows down nearly to the 
 ground, cast a glow from side to side, while the black 
 
NIGHT SKETCHES. 481 
 
 night hangs overhead like a canopy, and thus keeps 
 the splendor from diffusing itself away. The wet 
 sidewalks gleam with a broad sheet of red light. The 
 rain-drops glitter, as if the sky were pouring down 
 rubies. The spouts gush with fire. Methinks the 
 scene is an emblem of the deceptive glare which mor 
 tals throw around their footsteps in the moral world, 
 thus bedazzling themselves till they forget the impen 
 etrable obscurity that hems them in, and that can be 
 dispelled only by radiance from above. And after all 
 it is a cheerless scene, and cheerless are the wanderers 
 in it. Here comes one who has so long been familiar 
 with tempestuous weather that he takes the bluster of 
 the storm for a friendly greeting, as if it should say, 
 " How fare ye, brother ? " He is a retired sea-cap 
 tain, wrapped in some nameless garment of the pea- 
 jacket order, and is now laying his course towards the 
 Marine Insurance Office, there to spin yarns of gale 
 and shipwreck with a crew of old sea-dogs like him 
 self. The blast will put in its word among their 
 hoarse voices, and be understood by all of them. 
 Next 1 meet an unhappy slipshod gentleman, with a 
 cloak flung hastily over his shoulders, running a race 
 with boisterous winds, and striving to glide between 
 the drops of rain. Some domestic emergency or other 
 has blown this miserable man from his warm fireside 
 in quest of a doctor ! See that little vagabond how 
 carelessly he has taken his stand right underneath a 
 spout, while staring at some object of curiosity in a 
 shop-window ! Surely the rain is his native element ; 
 he must have fallen with it from the clouds, as frogs 
 are supposed to do. 
 
 Here is a picture, and a pretty one. A young man 
 and a girl, both enveloped in cloaks, and huddled be- 
 
482 TWICE-TOLD TALES. 
 
 neath the scanty protection of a cotton umbrella. She 
 wears rubber overshoes, but he is in his dancing 
 pumps ; and they are on their way, no doubt, to some 
 cotillon party, or subscription ball at a dollar a head, 
 refreshments included. Thus they struggle against 
 the gloomy tempest, lured onward by a vision of fes 
 tal splendor. But, ah ! a most lamentable disaster,, 
 Bewildered by che red, blue, and yellow meteors, in 
 an apothecary s window, they have stepped upon a 
 slippery remnant of ice, and are precipitated into a 
 confluence of swollen floods, at the corner of two 
 streets. Luckless lovers ! Were it my nature to be 
 other than a looker-on in life, I would attempt your 
 rescue. Since that may not be, I vow, should you be 
 drowned, to weave such a pathetic story of your fate 
 as shall call forth tears enough to drown you both 
 anew. Do ye touch bottom, my young friends ? Yes ; 
 they emerge like a water nymph and a river deity, 
 and paddle hand in hand out of the depths of the 
 dark pool. They hurry homeward, dripping, discon 
 solate, abashed, but with love too warm to be chilled 
 by the cold water. They have stood a test which 
 proves too strong for many. Faithful, though over 
 head and ears in trouble ! 
 
 Onward I go, deriving a sympathetic joy or sorrow 
 from the varied aspect of mortal affairs, even as my 
 figure catches a gleam from the lighted windows, or 
 is blackened by an interval of darkness. Not that 
 mine is altogether a chameleon spirit, with no hue of 
 its own. Now I pass into a more retired street, where 
 the dwellings of wealth and poverty are intermingled, 
 presenting a range of strongly contrasted pictures. 
 Here, too, may be found the golden mean. Through 
 yonder casement I discern a family circle, the grand 
 
NIGHT SKETCHES. 483 
 
 mother, the parents, and the children, all flicker 
 ing, shadow-like, in the glow of a wood fire. Bluster, 
 fierce blast, and beat, thou wintry rain, against the 
 window panes ! Ye cannot damp the enjoyment of 
 that fireside. Surely my fate is hard that I should 
 be wandering homeless here, taking to my bosom 
 night and storm and solitude, instead of wife and 
 children. Peace, murmurer ! Doubt not that darker 
 guests are sitting round the hearth, though the warm 
 blaze hides all but blissful images. Well ; here is 
 still a brighter scene. A stately mansion illuminated 
 for a ball, with cut-glass chandeliers and alabaster 
 lamps in every room, and sunny landscapes hanging 
 round the walls. See ! a coach has stopped, whence 
 emerges a slender beauty, who, canopied by two um 
 brellas, glides within the portal, and vanishes amid 
 lightsome thrills of music. AVill she ever feel the 
 
 o 
 
 night wind and the rain ? Perhaps, perhaps ! And 
 will Death and Sorrow ever enter that proud man 
 sion ? As surely as the dancers will be gay within its 
 halls to-night. Such thoughts sadden, yet satisfy my 
 heart ; for they teach me that the poor man in this 
 mean, weather-beaten hovel, without a fire to cheer 
 him, may call the rich his brother, brethren by Sor 
 row, who must be an inmate of both their households, 
 brethren by Death, who will lead them both to other 
 homes. 
 
 Onward, still onward, I plunge into the night. 
 Now have I reached the utmost limits of the town, 
 where the last lamp struggles feebly with the dark 
 ness, like the farthest star that stands sentinel on the 
 borders of uncreated space. It is strange what sen 
 sations of sublimity may spring from a very humble 
 source. Such are suggested by this hollow roar of a 
 
484 TWICE-TOLD TALES. 
 
 subterranean cataract, where the mighty stream of a 
 kennel precipitates itself beneath an iron grate, and is 
 seen no more on earth. Listen awhile to its voice of 
 mystery, and fancy will magnify it till you start and 
 smile at the illusion. And now another sound, the 
 rumbling of wheels, as the mail-coach, outward 
 bound, rolls heavily off the pavement, and splashes 
 through the mud and water of the road. All night 
 long the poor passengers will be tossed to and fro be 
 tween drowsy watch and troubled sleep, and will dream 
 of their own quiet beds, and awake to find them 
 selves still jolting onward. Happier my lot, who will 
 straightway hie me to my familiar room, and toast 
 myself comfortably before the fire, musing and fit 
 fully dozing, and fancying a strangeness in such sights 
 as all may see. But first let ine gaze at this solitary 
 figure who comes hitherward with a tin lantern, which 
 throws the circular pattern of its punched holes on the 
 ground about him. He passes fearlessly into the un 
 known gloom, whither I will not follow him. 
 
 This figure shall supply me with a moral, where 
 with, for lack of a more appropriate one, I may wind 
 up my sketch. He fears not to tread the dreary path 
 before him, because his lantern, which was kindled at 
 the fireside of his home, will light him back to that 
 same fireside again. And thus we, night wanderers 
 through a stormy and dismal world, if we bear the 
 lamp of Faith, enkindled at a celestial fire, it will 
 surely lead us home to that heaven whence its radi 
 ance was borrowed. 
 
ENDICOTT AND THE RED CROSS. 
 
 AT noon of an autumnal clay, more than two cen 
 turies ago, the English colors were displayed by the 
 standard-bearer of the Salem trainband, which had 
 mustered for martial exercise under the orders of 
 John Endicott. It was a period when the religious 
 exiles were accustomed often to buckle on their armor, 
 and practise the handling of their weapons of war. 
 Since the first settlement of New England, its pros 
 pects had never been so dismal. The dissensions 
 between Charles the First and his subjects were then, 
 and for several years afterwards, confined to the floor 
 of Parliament. The measures of the King and min 
 istry were rendered more tyrannically violent by an 
 opposition, which had not yet acquired sufficient confi 
 dence in its own strength to resist royal injustice with 
 the sword. The bigoted and haughty primate, Laud, 
 Archbishop of Canterbury, controlled the religious 
 affairs of the realm, and was consequently invested 
 with powers which might have wrought the utter ruin 
 of the two Puritan colonies, Plymouth and Massachu 
 setts. There is evidence on record that our fore 
 fathers perceived their danger, but were resolved that 
 their infant country should not fall without a struggle, 
 even beneath the giant strength of the King s right 
 arm. 
 
 Such was the aspect of the times when the folds of 
 the English banner, with the Eed Cross in its field, 
 were flung out over a company of Puritans. Their 
 
486 TWICE-TOLD TALES. 
 
 leader, the famous Endicott, was a man of stern and 
 resolute countenance, the effect of which was height 
 ened by a grizzled beard that swept the upper portion 
 of his breastplate. This piece of armor was so highly 
 polished that the whole surrounding scene had its 
 image in the glittering steel. The central object in 
 the mirrored picture was an edifice of humble archi 
 tecture with neither steeple nor bell to proclaim it 
 what nevertheless it was the house of prayer. A 
 token of the perils of the wilderness was seen in the 
 grim head of a wolf, which had just been slain within 
 the precincts of the town, and according to the regular 
 mode of claiming the bounty, was nailed on the porch 
 of the meeting-house. The blood was still plashing on 
 the doorstep. There happened to be visible, at the 
 same noontide hour, so many other characteristics of 
 the times and manners of the Puritans, that we must 
 endeavor to represent them in a sketch, though far less 
 vividly than they were reflected in the polished breast 
 plate of John Endicott. 
 
 In close vicinity to the sacred edifice appeared that 
 important engine of Puritanic authority, the whipping 
 post with the soil around it well trodden by the feet 
 of evil doers, who had there been disciplined. At one 
 corner of the meeting-house was the pillory, and at the 
 other the stocks ; and, by a singular good fortune for 
 our sketch, the head of an Episcopalian and suspected 
 Catholic was grotesquely incased in the former ma 
 chine ; while a fellow-criminal, who had boisterously 
 quaffed a health to the king, was confined by the legs 
 in the latter. Side by side, on the meeting-house steps, 
 stood a male and a female figure. The man was a 
 tall, lean, haggard personification of fanaticism, bear- 
 ing on his breast this label, A WANTON GOSPELLER 
 
ENDICOTT AND THE RED CROSS. 487 
 
 - which betokened that he had dared to give inter 
 pretations of Holy Writ unsanctioned by the infallible 
 judgment of the civil and religious rulers. His aspect 
 showed no lack of zeal to maintain his heterodoxies, 
 even at the stake. The woman wore a cleft stick 
 on her tongue, in appropriate retribution for having 
 wagged that unruly member against the elders of the 
 church ; and her countenance and gestures gave much 
 cause to apprehend that, the moment the stick should 
 be removed, a repetition of the offence would demand 
 new ingenuity in chastising it. 
 
 The above-mentioned individuals had been sentenced 
 to undergo their various modes of ignominy, for the 
 space of one hour at noonday. But among the crowd 
 were several whose punishment would be life-long ; 
 some, whose ears had been cropped, like those of puppy 
 dogs ; others, whose cheeks had been branded with the 
 initials of their misdemeanors ; one, with his nostrils 
 slit and seared ; and another, with a halter about his 
 neck, which he was forbidden ever to take off, or to 
 conceal beneath his garments. Metliinks he must 
 have been grievously tempted to affix the other end of 
 the rope to some convenient beam or bough. There 
 was likewise a young woman, with no mean share of 
 beauty, whose doom it was to wear the letter A on the 
 breast of her gown, in the eyes of all the world and 
 her own children. And even her own children knew 
 what that initial signified. Sporting with her infamy, 
 the lost and desperate creature had embroidered the 
 fatal token in scarlet cloth, with golden thread and the 
 nicest art of needlework ; so that the capital A might 
 have been thought to mean Admirable, or anything 
 rather than Adulteress. 
 
 Let not the reader argue, from any of these evi- 
 
488 TWICE-TOLD TALES. 
 
 dences of iniquity, that the times of the Puritans were 
 more vicious than our own, when, as we pass along 
 the very street of this sketch, we discern no badge of 
 infamy on man or woman. It was the policy of our 
 ancestors to search out even the most secret sins, and 
 expose them to shame, without fear or favor, in the 
 broadest light of the noonday sun. Were such the 
 custom now, perchance we might find materials for a 
 no less piquant sketch than the above. 
 
 Except the malefactors whom we have described, 
 and the diseased or infirm persons, the whole male 
 population of the town, between sixteen years and 
 sixty, were seen in the ranks of the trainband. A 
 few stately savages, in all the pomp and dignity of 
 the primeval Indian, stood gazing at the spectacle. 
 Their flint-headed arrows were but childish weapons 
 compared with the matchlocks of the Puritans, and 
 would have rattled harmlessly against the steel caps 
 and hammered iron breastplates which inclosed each 
 soldier in an individual fortress. The valiant John 
 Endicott glanced with an eye of pride at his sturdy 
 followers, and prepared to renew the martial toils of 
 the day. 
 
 " Come, my stout hearts ! " quoth he, drawing his 
 sword. " Let us show these poor heathen that we can 
 handle our weapons like men of might. Well for 
 them, if they put us not to prove it in earnest ! " 
 
 The iron-breasted company straightened their line, 
 and each man drew the heavy butt of his matchlock 
 close to his left foot, thus awaiting the orders of the 
 captain. But, as Endicott glanced right and left 
 along the front, he discovered a personage at some 
 little distance with whom it behooved him to hold a 
 parley. It was an elderly gentleman, wearing a black 
 
ENDICOTT AND THE RED CROSS. 489 
 
 cloak and band, and a high-crowned hat, beneath 
 which was a velvet skull-cap, the whole being the garb 
 of a Puritan minister. This reverend person bore a 
 staff which seemed to have been recently cut in the 
 forest, and his shoes were bemired as if he had been 
 travelling on foot through the swamps of the wilder 
 ness. His aspect was perfectly that of a pilgrim, 
 heightened also by an apostolic dignity. Just as Endi- 
 cott perceived him he laid aside his staff, and stooped 
 to drink at a bubbling fountain which gushed into the 
 sunshine about a score of yards from the corner of the 
 meeting-house. But, ere the good man drank, he 
 turned his face heavenward in thankfulness, and then, 
 holding back his gray beard with one hand, he scooped 
 up his simple draught in the hollow of the other. 
 
 " What, ho ! good Mr. Williams," shouted Endi- 
 cott. * You are welcome back again to our town of 
 peace. How does our worthy Governor Winthrop? 
 And what news from Boston?" 
 
 4 The Governor hath his health, worshipful Sir," 
 answered Roger Williams, now resuming his staff, and 
 drawing near. ib And for the news, here is a letter, 
 which, knowing I was to travel hitherward to-day, his 
 Excellency committed to my charge. Belike it con 
 tains tidings of much import ; for a ship arrived yes 
 terday from England." 
 
 Mr. Williams, the minister of Salem and of course 
 known to all the spectators, had now reached the spot 
 where Endicott was standing under the banner of his 
 company, and put the Governor s epistle into his hand, 
 The broad seal was impressed with ^^ inthrop s coat of 
 arms. Endicott hastily unclosed the letter and be an 
 
 / O 
 
 to read, while, as his eye passed down the page, a 
 wrathful change came over his manly countenance. 
 
490 TWICE-TOLD TALES. 
 
 The blood glowed through it, till it seemed to be kind 
 ling with an internal heat ; nor was it unnatural to 
 suppose that his breastplate would likewise become red- 
 hot with the angry fire of the bosom which it covered. 
 Arriving at the conclusion, he shook the letter fiercely 
 in his hand, so that it rustled as loud as the flag above 
 his head. 
 
 " Black tidings these, Mr. Williams," said he ; 
 " blacker never came to New England. Doubtless you 
 know their purport ? " 
 
 " Yea, truly," replied Roger Williams ; " for the 
 Governor consulted, respecting this matter, with my 
 brethren in the ministry at Boston ; and my opinion 
 was likewise asked. And his Excellency entreats you 
 by me, that the news be not suddenly noised abroad, 
 lest the people be stirred up unto some outbreak, and 
 thereby give the King and the Archbishop a handle 
 against us." 
 
 " The Governor is a wise man a wise man, and 
 a meek and moderate," said Endicott, setting his teeth 
 grimly. " Nevertheless, I must do according to my 
 own best judgment. There is neither man, woman, 
 nor child in New England, but has a concern as dear 
 as life in these tidings ; and if John Endicott s voice 
 be loud enough, man, woman, and child shall hear 
 them. Soldiers, wheel into a hollow square ! Ho, 
 good people ! Here are news for one and all of 
 you." 
 
 The soldiers closed in around their captain ; and he 
 and Roger Williams stood together under the banner 
 of the Red Cross ; while the women and the aged men 
 pressed forward, and the mothers held up their chil 
 dren to look Endicott in the face. A few taps of the 
 drum gave signal for silence and attention. 
 
ENDICOTT AND THE RED CROSS. 491 
 
 " Fellow-soldiers, fellow-exiles," began Endicott, 
 speaking under strong excitement, yet powerfully re 
 straining it, " wherefore did ye leave your native coun 
 try? Wherefore, I say, have we left the green and 
 fertile fields, the cottages, or, perchance, the old gray 
 halls, where we were born and bred, the churchyards 
 where our forefathers lie buried ? Wherefore have we 
 come hither to set up our own tombstones in a wilder 
 ness? A howling wilderness it is ! The wolf and the 
 bear meet us within halloo of our dwellings. The sav 
 age lieth in wait for us in the dismal shadow of the 
 woods. The stubborn roots of the trees break our 
 ploughshares, when we would till the earth. Our 
 children cry for bread, and we must dig in the sands 
 of the sea-shore to satisfy them. Wherefore, I say 
 again, have we sought this country of a rugged soil 
 and wintry sky ? Was it not for the enjoyment of our 
 civil rights ? Was it not for liberty to worship God 
 according to our conscience ? " 
 
 " Call you this liberty of conscience ? " interrupted 
 a voice on the steps of the meeting-house. 
 
 It was the Wanton Gospeller. A sad and quiet 
 smile flitted across the mild visage of Roger Williams. 
 But Endicott, in the excitement of the moment, shook 
 his sword wrathf ally at the culprit an ominous gest 
 ure from a man like him. 
 
 "What hast thou to do with conscience, thou 
 knave ? " cried he. I said liberty to worship God, 
 not license to profane and ridicule him. Break not in 
 upon my speech, or I will lay thee neck and heels 
 till this time to-morrow ! Hearken to me, friends, nor 
 heed that accursed rhapsodist. As I was saying, we 
 have sacrificed all tilings, and have come to a land 
 thereof the old world hath scarcely heard, that w 
 
492 TWICE-TOLD TALES. 
 
 might make a new world unto ourselves, and painfully 
 seek a path from hence to heaven. But what think ye 
 now ? This son of a Scotch tyrant this grandson 
 of a Papistical and adulterous Scotch woman, whose 
 death proved that a golden crown doth not always 
 save an anointed head from the block " 
 
 " Nay, brother, nay," interposed Mr. Williams ; 
 " thy words are not meet for a secret chamber, far less 
 for a public street." 
 
 " Hold thy peace, Roger Williams ! " answered En- 
 dicott, imperiously. " My spirit is wiser than thine 
 for the business now in hand. I tell ye, fellow-exiles, 
 that Charles of England, and Laud, our bitterest per 
 secutor, arch-priest of Canterbury, are resolute to pur 
 sue us even hither. They are taking counsel, saith 
 this letter, to send over a governor-general, in whose 
 breast shall be deposited all the law and equity of the 
 land. They are minded, also, to establish the idola 
 trous forms of English Episcopacy; so that, when 
 Laud shall kiss the Pope s toe, as cardinal of Rome, 
 he may deliver New England, bound hand and foot, 
 into the power of his master ! " 
 
 A deep groan from the auditors, a sound of wrath, 
 as well as fear and sorrow, responded to this intel 
 ligence. 
 
 " Look ye to it, brethren," resumed Endicott, with 
 increasing energy. " If this king and this arch-prelate 
 have their will, we shall briefly behold a cross on the 
 spire of this tabernacle which we have builded, and 
 a high altar within its walls, with wax tapers burning 
 round it at noonday. We shall hear the sacring bell, 
 and the voices of the Romish priests saying the mass. 
 But think ye, Christian men, that these abominations 
 may be suffered without a sword drawn ? without a 
 
 ./*. 
 
ENDICOTT AND THE RED CROSS. 493 
 
 shot fired ? without blood spilt, yea, on the very stairs 
 of the pulpit ? No, be ye strong of hand and stout 
 of heart ! Here we stand on our own soil, which we 
 have bought with our goods, which we have won with 
 our swords, which we have cleared with our axes, 
 which we have tilled with the sweat of our brows, 
 which we have sanctified with our prayers to the God 
 that brought us hither ! Who shall enslave us here ? 
 What have we to do with this mitred prelate, with 
 this crowned king ? What have we to do with Eng= 
 land?" 
 
 Endicott gazed round at the excited countenances 
 of the people, now full of his own spirit, and then 
 turned suddenly to the standard-bearer, who stood 
 close behind him. 
 
 " Officer, lower your banner ! " said he. 
 
 The officer obeyed ; and, brandishing his sword, 
 Endicott thrust it through the cloth, and, with his left 
 hand, rent the Red Cross completely out of the banner. 
 He then waved the tattered ensign above his head. 
 
 ci Sacrilegious wretch ! " cried the high-churchman in 
 the pillory, unable longer to restrain himself, * thou 
 hast rejected the symbol of our holy religion!" 
 
 " Treason, treason ! " roared the royalist in the 
 stocks. " He hath defaced the King s banner ! " 
 
 u Before God and man, I will avouch the deed," 
 answered Endicott. ;i Beat a flourish, drummer ! 
 shout, soldiers and people ! in honor of the ensign 
 of New England. Neither Pope nor Tyrant hath part 
 in it now ! " 
 
 With a cry of triumph, the people gave their sanc 
 tion to one of the boldest exploits which our history 
 records. And forever honored be the name of Endi 
 cott! We look back through the mist of ages, and 
 
494 TWICE-TOLD TALES. 
 
 recognize in the rending of the Red Cross from New 
 England s banner the first omen of that deliverance 
 which our fathers consummated after the bones of the 
 stern Puritan had lain more than a century in the 
 dust. 
 
THE LILY S QUEST. 
 
 AX APOLOGUE. 
 
 Two lovers, once upon a time, had planned a little 
 summer-house, in the f onn of an antique temple, which 
 it was their purpose to consecrate to all manner of re 
 fined and innocent enjoyments. There they woidd hold 
 pleasant intercourse with one another and the circle of 
 their familiar friends ; there they would give festivals 
 of delicious fruit; there they would hear lightsome 
 music, intermingled with the strains of pathos which 
 make joy more sweet ; there they would read poetiy 
 and fiction, and permit their own minds to flit away 
 in day-dreams and romance ; there, in short for why 
 should we shape out the vague sunshine of their hopes? 
 there all pure delights were to cluster like roses 
 among the pillars of the edifice, and blossom ever new 
 and spontaneously. So, one breezy and cloudless after 
 noon, Adam Forrester and Lilias Fay set out upon a 
 ramble over the wide estate which they were to possess 
 together, seeking a proper site for their Temple of 
 Happiness. They were themselves a fair and happy 
 spectacle, fit priest and priestess for such a shrine ; 
 although, making poetry of the pretty name of Lilias, 
 Adam Forrester was wont to call her LILY, because 
 her form was as fragile, and her cheek almost as pale. 
 
 As they passed hand in hand down the avenue of 
 drooping elms that led from the portal of Lilias Fay s 
 paternal mansion, they seemed to glance like winged 
 
496 TWICE-TOLD TALES. 
 
 creatures through the strips of sunshine, and to scatter 
 brightness where the deep shadows fell. But setting 
 forth at the same time with this youthful pair, there 
 was a dismal figure, wrapped in a black velvet cloak 
 that might have been made of a coffin pall, and with a 
 sombre hat siich as mourners wear drooping its broad 
 brim over his heavy brows. Glancing behind them, 
 the lovers well knew who it was that followed, but 
 wished from their hearts that he had been elsewhere, 
 as being a companion so strangely unsuited to their 
 joyous errand. It was a near relative of Lilias Fay, 
 an old man by the name of Walter Gascoigne, who 
 hal long labored under the burden of a melancholy 
 spirit, which was sometimes maddened into absolute 
 insanity, and always had a tinge of it. What a con 
 trast between the young pilgrims of bliss and their 
 unbidden associate ! They looked as if moulded of 
 heaven s sunshine, and he of earth s gloomiest shade ; 
 they flitted along like Hope and Joy roaming hand in 
 hand through life ; while his darksome figure stalked 
 behind, a type of all the woful influences which life 
 could fling upon them. But the three had not gone 
 far when they reached a spot that pleased the gentle 
 Lily, and she paused. 
 
 " What sweeter place shall we find than this ? " said 
 she. " Why should we seek farther for the site of our 
 Temple?" 
 
 It was indeed a delightful spot of earth, though 
 undistinguished by any very prominent beauties, be 
 ing merely a nook in the shelter of a hill, with the 
 prospect of a distant lake in one direction, and of a 
 church spire in another. There were vistas and path 
 ways leading onward and onward into the green wood 
 lands, and vanishing away in the glimmering shade, 
 
THE LILY S QUEST. 497 
 
 The Temple, if erected here, would look towards the 
 west : so that the lovers could shape all sorts of mag 
 nificent dreams out of the purple, violet, and gold of 
 the sunset sky ; and few of their anticipated pleasures 
 were dearer than this sport of fantasy. 
 
 " Yes," said Adam Forrester, " we might seek all 
 day and find no lovelier spot. We will build our 
 Temple here." 
 
 But their sad old companion, who had taken his 
 stand on the very site which they proposed to cover 
 with a marble floor, shook his head and frowned ; and 
 the young man and the Lily deemed it almost enough 
 to blight the spot, and desecrate it for their airy Tem 
 ple, that his dismal figure had thrown its shadow there. 
 He pointed to some scattered stones, the remnants of 
 a former structure, and to flowers such as young girls 
 delight to nurse in their gardens, but which had now 
 relapsed into the wild simplicity of nature. 
 
 "Not here! " cried old Walter Gascoigne. " Here, 
 long ago, other mortals built their Temple of Happi 
 ness. Seek another site for yours ! " 
 
 " What ! " exclaimed Lilias Fay. " Have any ever 
 planned such a Temple save ourselves ? " 
 
 " Poor child ! "- said her gloomy kinsman. " In 
 one shape or other, every mortal has dreamed your 
 dream." 
 
 Then he told the lovers how, not, indeed, an antique 
 Temple, but a dwelling, had once stood there, and that 
 a dark-clad guest had dwelt among its inmates, sitting 
 forever at the fireside, and poisoning all their house 
 hold mirth. Under this type. Adam Forrester and 
 Lilias saw that the old man spake of Sorrow. He told 
 of nothing that might not be recorded in the history 
 of almost every household ; and yet his hearers felt 
 
 VOL. I. 
 
498 TWICE-TOLD TALES. 
 
 as if no sunshine ought to fall upon a spot where 
 human grief had left so deep a stain ; or, at least, 
 that no joyous Temple should be built there. 
 
 " This is very sad," said the Lily, sighing. 
 
 " Well, there are lovelier spots than this," said 
 Adam Forrester, soothingly, " spots which sorrow 
 has not blighted." 
 
 So they hastened away, and the melancholy Gas- 
 coigne followed them, looking as if he had gathered 
 up all the gloom of the deserted spot, and was bearing 
 it as a burden of inestimable treasure. But still they 
 rambled on, and soon found themselves in a rocky 
 dell through the midst of which ran a streamlet with 
 ripple and foam, and a continual voice of inarticulate 
 joy. It was a wild retreat, walled on either side with 
 gray precipices, which would have frowned somewhat 
 too sternly, had not a profusion of green shrubbery 
 rooted itself into their crevices, and wreathed glad 
 some foliage around their solemn brows. But the 
 chief joy of the dell was in the little stream, which 
 seemed like the presence of a blissful child, with noth 
 ing earthly to do save to babble merrily and disport 
 itself, and make every living soul its playfellow, and 
 throw the sunny gleams of its spirit upon all. 
 
 " Here, here is the spot ! " cried the two lovers with 
 one voice as they reached a level space on the brink of 
 a small cascade. " This glen was made on purpose 
 for our Temple ! " 
 
 " And the glad song of the brook will be always in 
 our ears," said Lilias Fay. 
 
 " And its long melody shall sing the bliss of our 
 lifetime," said Adam Forrester, 
 
 "Ye must build no Temple here ! " murmured theii 
 dismal companion. 
 
THE LILY S QUEST. 499 
 
 And there again was the old lunatic, standing just 
 on the spot where they meant to rear their lightsome 
 dome, and looking like the embodied symbol of some 
 great woe, that, in forgotten days, had happened there. 
 And, alas ! there had been woe, nor that alone. A 
 young man, more than a hundred years before, had 
 lured hither a girl that loved him, and on this spot 
 had murdered her, and washed his bloody hands in 
 the stream which sung so merrily. And ever since 
 the victim s death shrieks were often heard to echo 
 between the cliffs. 
 
 " And see ! " cried old Gascoigne, " is the stream 
 yet pure from the stain of the murderer s hands ? " 
 
 " Methinks it has a tinge of blood," faintly an 
 swered the Lily ; and being as slight as the gossamer, 
 she trembled and clung to her lover*s arm, whispering, 
 " Let us flee from this dreadful vale ! " 
 
 " Come, then," said Adam Forrester, as cheerily as 
 he could, " we shall soon find a happier spot." 
 
 They set forth again, young Pilgrims on that quest 
 which millions which every child of Earth has 
 tried in turn. And were the Lily and her lover to be 
 more fortunate than all those millions ? For a long 
 time it seemed not so. The dismal shape of the old 
 lunatic still glided behind them ; and for every spot 
 that looked lovely in their eyes, he had some legend 
 of human wrong or suffering, so miserably sad that 
 his auditors could never afterwards connect the idea 
 of joy with the place where it had happened. Here, 
 a heart-broken woman, kneeling to her child, had been 
 spurned from his feet ; here, a desolate old creature 
 had prayed to the evil one, and had received a fiend 
 ish malignity of soul in answer to her prayer ; here, 
 a new-born infant, sweet blossom of life, had been 
 
500 TWICE-TOLD TALES. 
 
 found dead, with the impress of its mother s fingers 
 round its throat ; and here, under a shattered oak, two 
 lovers had been stricken by lightning, and fell black 
 ened corpses in each other s arms. The dreary Gas- 
 coigne had a gift to know whatever evil and lament 
 able thing had stained the bosom of Mother Earth ; 
 and when his funereal voice had told the tale, it ap 
 peared like a prophecy of future woe as well as a tra 
 dition of the past. And now, by their sad demeanor, 
 you would have fancied that the pilgrim lovers were 
 seeking, not a temple of earthly joy, but a tomb for 
 themselves and their posterity. 
 
 " Where in this world," exclaimed Adam Forrester, 
 despondingly, " shall we build our Temple of Happi 
 ness ? " 
 
 " Where in this world, indeed ! " repeated Lilias 
 Fay; and being faint and weary, the more so by the 
 heaviness of her heart, the Lily drooped her head and 
 sat down on the summit of a knoll, repeating, " Where 
 in this world shall we build our Temple ? " 
 
 " Ah ! have you already asked yourselves that ques 
 tion ? " said their companion, his shaded features grow 
 ing even gloomier with the smile that dwelt on them ; 
 " yet there is a place, even in this world, where ye 
 may build it." 
 
 While the old man spoke, Adam Forrester and 
 Lilias had carelessly thrown their eyes around, and 
 perceived that the spot where they had chanced to 
 pause possessed a quiet charm, which was well enough 
 adapted to their present mood of mind. It was a 
 small rise of ground, with a certain regularity of 
 shape, that had perhaps been bestowed by art ; and a 
 group of trees, which almost surrounded it, threw their 
 pensive shadows across and far beyond, although some 
 
THE LILY S QUEST. 501 
 
 softened glory of the sunshine found its way there. 
 The ancestral mansion, wherein the lovers would dwell 
 together, appeared on one side, and the ivied church, 
 where they were to worship, on another. Happening 
 to cast their eyes on the ground they smiled, yet with 
 a sense of wonder, to see that a pale lily was growing 
 at their feet. 
 
 " We will build our Temple here," said they, simul 
 taneously, and with an indescribable conviction that 
 they had at last found the very spot. 
 
 Yet, while they uttered this exclamation, the young 
 man and the Lily turned an apprehensive glance at 
 their dreary associate, deeming it hardly possible that 
 some tale of earthly affliction should not make those 
 precincts loathsome, as in every former case. The 
 old man stood just behind them, so as to form the 
 chief figure in the group, with his sable cloak muffling 
 the lower part of his visage, and his sombre hat over 
 shadowing his brows. But he gave no word of dissent 
 from their purpose ; and an inscrutable smile was ac 
 cepted by the lovers as a token that here had been no 
 footprint of guilt or sorrow to desecrate the site of 
 their Temple of Happiness. 
 
 In a little time longer, while summer was still in 
 its prime, the fairy structure of the Temple arose on 
 the summit of the knoll, amid the solemn shadows of 
 the trees, yet often gladdened with bright sunshine. 
 It was built of white marble, with slender and grace 
 ful pillars supporting a vaulted dome ; and beneath 
 the centre of this dome, upon a pedestal, was a slab of 
 dark-veined marble, on which books and music might 
 be strewn. But there was a fantasy among the people 
 of the neighborhood that the edifice was planned after 
 an ancient mausoleum and was intended for a tomb. 
 
502 TWICE-TOLD TALES. 
 
 and that the central slab of dark- veined marble was 
 to be inscribed with the names of buried ones. They 
 doubted, too, whether the form of Lilias Fay could 
 appertain to a creature of this earth, being so very 
 delicate, and growing every day more fragile, so that 
 she looked as if the summer breeze should snatch her 
 up and waft her heavenward. But still she watched 
 the daily growth of the Temple ; and so did old Wal 
 ter Gascoigne, who now made that spot his continual 
 haunt, leaning whole hours together on his staff, and 
 giving as deep attention to the work as though it had 
 been indeed a tomb. In due time it was finished, and 
 a day appointed for a simple rite of dedication. 
 
 On the preceding evening, after Adam Forrester 
 had taken leave of his mistress, he looked back to 
 wards the portal of her dwelling, and felt a strange 
 thrill * of fear ; for he imagined that, as the setting 
 sunbeams faded from her figure, she was exhaling 
 away, and that something of her ethereal substance 
 was withdrawn with each lessening gleam of light. 
 With his farewell glance a shadow had fallen over 
 the portal and Lilias was invisible. *His foreboding 
 spirit deemed it an omen at the time, and so it proved ; 
 for the sweet earthly form, by which the Lily had 
 been manifested to the world, was found lifeless the 
 next morning in the Temple, with her head resting 
 on her arms, which were folded upon the slab of dark- 
 veined marble. The chill winds of the earth had long 
 since breathed a blight into this beautiful flower, so 
 that a loving hand had now transplanted it, to blos 
 som brightly in the garden of Paradise. 
 
 But alas, for the Temple of Happiness ! In his un 
 utterable grief, Adam Forrester had no purpose more 
 at heart than to convert this Temple of many delightr 
 
THE LILY S QUEST. 503 
 
 ful hopes into a tomb, and bury his dead mistress 
 there. And lo ! a wonder ! Digging a grave beneath 
 the Temple s marble floor, the sexton found no virgin 
 earth, such as was meet to receive the maiden s dust, 
 but an ancient sepulchre, in which were treasured up 
 the bones of generations that had died long ago. 
 Among those forgotten ancestors was the Lily to be 
 laid. And when the funeral procession brought Lilias 
 thither in her coffin, they beheld old Walter Gascoigne 
 standing beneath the dome of the Temple, with his 
 cloak of pall and face of darkest gloom ; and where- 
 ever that figure might take its stand the spot would 
 seem a sepulchre. He watched the mourners as they 
 lowered the coffin down. 
 
 " And so," said he to Adam Forrester, with the 
 strange smile in which his insanity was wont to gleam 
 forth, " you have found no better foundation for your 
 happiness than on a grave ! " 
 
 But as the Shadow of Affliction spoke, a vision of 
 Hope and Joy had its birth in Adam s mind, even 
 from the old man s taunting words ; for then he knew 
 what was betokened by the parable in which the Lily 
 and himself had acted ; and the mystery of Life and 
 Death was opened to him. 
 
 " Jov! iov ! he cried, throwing his arms towards 
 
 t, J . i? 
 
 heaven, " on a grave be the site of our Temple ; and 
 now our happiness is for Eternity ! * 
 
 With those words, a ray of sunshine broke through 
 the dismal sky, and glimmered down into the sepul 
 chre ; while, at the same moment, the shape of old 
 Walter Gascoigne stalked drearily away, because his 
 gloom, symbolic of all earthly sorrow, might no longer 
 abide there, now that the darkest riddle of humanity 
 was read. 
 
FOOTPRINTS ON THE SEA-SHORE. 
 
 IT must be a spirit much unlike my own which can 
 keep itself in health and vigor without sometimes 
 stealing from the sultry sunshine of the world, to 
 plunge into the cool bath of solitude. At intervals, 
 and not unf requent ones, the forest and the ocean sum 
 mon me one with the roar of its waves, the other 
 with the murmur of its boughs forth from the 
 haunts of men. But I must wander many a mile ere 
 I could stand beneath the shadow of even one prime 
 val tree, much less be lost among the multitude of 
 hoary trunks, and hidden from earth and sky by the 
 mystery of darksome foliage. Nothing is within my 
 daily reach more like a forest than the acre or two of 
 woodland near some suburban farm-house. When, 
 therefore, the yearning for seclusion becomes a neces 
 sity within me, I am drawn to the sea-shore, which 
 extends its line of rude rocks and seldom trodden 
 sands for leagues around our bay. Setting forth at 
 my last ramble on a September morning, I bound my 
 self with a hermit s vow to interchange no thoughts 
 with man or woman, to share no social pleasure, but 
 to derive all that day s enjoyment from shore and sea 
 and sky, from my soul s communion with these, and 
 from fantasies and recollections, or anticipated reali 
 ties. Surely here is enough to feed a human spirit 
 for a single day. Farewell, then, busy world ! Til] 
 your evening lights shall shine along the street, til] 
 they gleam upon my sea-flushed face as I tread home 
 
FOOTPRINTS ON THE SEA-SHORE. 505 
 
 ward, free me from your ties, and let me be a 
 peaceful outlaw. 
 
 Highways and cross paths are hastily traversed ; 
 and, clambering down a crag, I find myself at the 
 extremity of a long beach. How gladly does the 
 spirit leap forth and suddenly enlarge its sense of 
 being to the full extent of the broad, blue, sunny 
 deep ! A greeting and a homage to the Sea ! I de 
 scend over its margin and dip my hand into the wave 
 that meets me, and bathe my brow. That far-resound 
 ing roar is Ocean s voice of welcome. His salt breath 
 brings a blessing along with it. Now let us pace to 
 gether the reader s fancy arm-in-arm with mine 
 this noble beach, which extends a mile or more from 
 that craggy promontory to yonder rampart of broken 
 rocks. In front, the sea ; in the rear, a precipitous 
 bank, the grassy verge of which is breaking away, 
 year after year, and flings down its tufts of verdure 
 upon the barrenness below. The beach itself is a 
 broad space of sand, brown and sparkling, with hardly 
 any pebbles intermixed. Near the water s edge there 
 is a wet margin", which glistens brightly in the sun 
 shine, and reflects objects like a mirror ; and as we 
 tread along the glistening border, a dry spot flashes 
 around each footstep, but grows moist again as we lift 
 our feet. In some spots the. sand receives a complete 
 impression of the sole square toe and all ; else 
 where it is of such marble firmness that we must 
 stamp heavily to leave a print even of the iron-shod 
 heel. Along the whole of this extensive beach gam 
 bols the surf wave ; now it makes a feint of dashing 
 onward in a fury, yet dies away with a meek murmur, 
 and does but kiss the strand ; now, after many such 
 abortive efforts, it rears itself up in an unbroken line, 
 
506 TWICE-TOLD TALES. 
 
 heightening as it advances, without a speck of foam 
 on its green crest. With how fierce a roar it flings 
 itself forward, and rushes far up the beach ! 
 
 As I threw my eyes along the edge of the surf I 
 remember that I was startled, as Robinson Crusoe 
 might have been, by the sense that human life was 
 within the magic circle of my solitude. Afar off in 
 the remote distance of the beach, appearing like sea- 
 nymphs or some airier things such as might tread 
 upon the feathery spray, was a group of girls. Hardly 
 had I beheld them when they passed into the shadow 
 of the rocks and vanished. To comfort myself for 
 truly I would fain have gazed a while longer I made 
 acquaintance with a flock of beach birds. These little 
 citizens of the sea and air preceded me by about a 
 stone s throw along the strand, seeking, I suppose, for 
 food upon its margin. Yet, with a philosophy which 
 mankind would do well to imitate, they drew a con 
 tinual pleasure from their toil for a subsistence. The 
 sea was each little bird s great playmate. They 
 chased it downward as it swept back, and again ran 
 up swiftly before the impending wave, which some 
 times overtook them and bore them off their feet. 
 But they floated as lightly as one of their own feathers 
 on the breaking crest. In their airy flutterings they 
 seemed to rest on the evanescent spray. Their images 
 long-legged little figures, with gray backs and snowy 
 bosoms were seen as distinctly as the realities in 
 the mirror of the glistening strand. As I advanced 
 they flew a score or two of yards, and, again alighting, 
 recommenced their dalliance with the surf wave ; and 
 thus they bore me company along the beach, the types 
 of pleasant fantasies, till, at its extremity, they took 
 wing over the ocean and were gone. After forming a 
 
 
 
FOOTPRINTS ON THE SEA-SHORE. 507 
 
 friendship with these small surf spirits, it is really 
 worth a sigh to find no memorial of them save their 
 multitudinous little tracks in the sand. 
 
 When we have paced the length of the beach it is 
 pleasant and not unprofitable to retrace our steps, and 
 recall the whole mood and occupation of the mind 
 during the former passage. Our tracks being all dis 
 cernible will guide us with an observing consciousness 
 through every unconscious wandering of thought and 
 fancy. Here we followed the surf in its reflux to 
 pick up a shell which the sea seemed loath to relin 
 quish. Here we found a sea- weed, with an immense 
 brown leaf, and trailed it behind us by its long snake- 
 like stalk. Here we seized a live horseshoe by the tail, 
 and counted the many claws of the queer monster. 
 Here we dug into the sand for pebbles, and skipped 
 them upon the surface of the water. Here we wet 
 our feet while examining a jelly-fish which the waves, 
 having just tossed it up, now sought to snatch away 
 again. Here we trod along the brink of a fresh-water 
 brooklet which flows across the beach, becoming shal 
 lower and more shallow, till at last it sinks into the 
 sand and perishes in the effort to bear its little tribute 
 to the main. Here some vagary appears to have be 
 wildered us ; for our tracks go round and round and 
 are confusedly intermingled, as if we had found a 
 labyrinth upon the level beach. And here, amid our 
 idle pastime, we sat down upon almost the only stone 
 that breaks the surface of the sand, and were lost in 
 an unlooked-for and overpowering conception of the 
 majesty and awfulness of the great deep. Thus, by 
 tracking our footprints in the sand, we track our own 
 nature in its wayward course, and steal a glance upon 
 it, when it never dreams of being so observed. Such 
 glances alwavs make us wiser. 
 
508 TWICE-TOLD TALES. 
 
 This extensive beach affords room for another pleas- 
 ant pastime. With your staff you may write verses 
 love verses, if they please you best and consecrate 
 them with a woman s name. Here, too, may be in 
 scribed thoughts, feelings, desires, warm outgushings 
 from the heart s secret places, which you would not 
 pour upon the sand without the certainty that, almost 
 ere the sky has looked upon them, the sea will wash 
 them out. Stir not hence till the record be effaced. 
 Now for there is room enough on your canvas 
 draw huge faces huge as that of the Sphinx on 
 Egyptian sands and fit them with bodies of cor 
 responding immensity, and legs which might stride 
 half-way to yonder island. Child s play becomes mag 
 nificent on so grand a scale. But, after all, the most 
 fascinating employment is simply to write your name 
 in the sand. Draw the letters gigantic, so that two 
 strides may barely measure them, and three for the 
 long strokes ! Gut deep that the record may be per 
 manent ! Statesmen and warriors and poets have 
 spent their strength in no better cause than this. Is 
 it accomplished ? Return then in an hour or two and 
 seek for this mighty record of a name. The sea will 
 have swept over it, even as time rolls its effacing waves 
 over the names of statesmen and warriors and poets. 
 Hark, the surf wave laughs at you ! 
 
 Passing from the beach I begin to clamber over the 
 crags, making my difficult way among the ruins of a 
 rampart shattered and broken by the assaults of a 
 fierce enemy. The rocks rise in every variety of atti 
 tude : some of them have their feet in the foam, and 
 are shagged half-way upward with sea-weed ; some 
 have been hollowed almost into caverns by the un 
 wearied toil of the sea, which can afford to spend cen- 
 
 
 
FOOTPRINTS ON THE SEA-SHORE. 509 
 
 turies in wearing away a rock, or even polishing a 
 pebble. One huge rock ascends in monumental shape, 
 with a face like a giant s tombstone, on which the veins 
 resemble inscriptions, but in an unknown tongue. "We 
 will fancy them the forgotten characters of an antedi 
 luvian race ; or else that Nature s own hand has here 
 recorded a mystery, which, could I read her language, 
 would make mankind the wiser and the happier. How 
 many a thing has troubled me with that same idea ! 
 Pass on and leave it unexplained. Here is a narrow 
 avenue, which might seem to have been hewn through 
 the very heart of an enormous crag, affording passage 
 for the rising sea to thunder back and forth, filling it 
 with tumultuous foam, and then leaving its floor of 
 black pebbles bare and glistening. In this chasm 
 there was once an intersecting vein of softer stone, 
 which the waves have gnawed away piecemeal, while 
 the granite walls remain entire on either side. How 
 sharply, and with what harsh clamor, does the sea rake 
 back the pebbles, as it momentarily withdraws into its 
 own depths ! At intervals the floor of the chasm is 
 left nearly dry ; but anon, at the outlet, two or three 
 great waves are seen struggling to get in at once; 
 two hit the walls athwart, while one rushes straight 
 through, and all three thunder as if with rage and 
 triumph. They heap the chasm with a snow-drift of 
 foam and spray. While watching this scene, I can 
 never rid myself of the idea that a monster, endowed 
 with life and fierce energy, is striving to burst his 
 way through the narrow pass. And what a contrast, 
 to look through the stormy chasm, and catch a glimpse 
 of the calm bright sea beyond ! 
 
 Many interesting discoveries may be made among 
 these broken cliffs. Once, for example, I found a 
 
510 TWICE-TOLD TALES. 
 
 dead seal, which a recent tempest had tossed into the 
 nook of the rocks, where his shaggy carcass lay rolled 
 in a heap of eel-grass, as if the sea-monster sought to 
 hide himself from my eye. Another time, a shark 
 seemed on the point of leaping from the surf to swal 
 low me ; nor did I, wholly without dread, approach 
 near enough to ascertain that the man-eater had al 
 ready met his own death from some fisherman in the 
 bay. In the same ramble I encountered a bird a 
 large gray bird but whether a loon, or a wild goose, 
 or the identical albatross of the Ancient Mariner, was 
 beyond my ornithology to decide. It reposed so natur 
 ally on a bed of dry sea-weed, with its head beside its 
 wing, that I almost fancied it alive, and trod softly 
 lest it should suddenly spread its wings skyward. But 
 the sea-bird would soar among the clouds no more, nor 
 ride upon its native waves, so I drew near and pulled 
 out one of its mottled tail-feathers for a remembrance. 
 Another day, I discovered an immense bone wedged 
 into a chasm of the rocks ; it was at least ten feet 
 long, curved like a cimeter, bejewelled with barnacles 
 and small shell-fish, and partly covered with a growth 
 of sea- weed. Some leviathan of former ages had used 
 this ponderous mass as a jawbone. Curiosities of a 
 minuter order may be observed in a deep reservoir, 
 which is replenished with water at every tide, but be 
 comes a lake among the crags, save when the sea is at 
 its height. At the bottom of this rocky basin grow 
 marine plants, some of which tower high beneath the 
 water and cast a shadow in the sunshine. Small fishes 
 dart to and fro, and hide themselves among the sea 
 weed : there is also a solitary crab, who appears to 
 lead the life of a hermit, communing with none of the 
 other denizens of the place ; and likewise several five- 
 
FOOTPRINTS ON THE SEA-SHORE. 511 
 
 fingers for I know no other name than that which 
 children give them. If your imagination be at all ac 
 customed to such freaks, you may look down into the 
 depths of this pool, and fancy it the mysterious depth 
 of ocean. But where are the hulks and scattered tim 
 bers of sunken ships ? where the treasures that old 
 Ocean hoards? where the corroded cannon? where 
 the corpses and skeletons of seamen who went down in 
 storm and battle ? 
 
 On the day of my last ramble (it was a September 
 day, yet as warm as summer), what should I behold 
 as I approached the above described basin but three 
 girls sitting on its margin, and yes, it is veritably so 
 laving their snowy feet in the sunny water ! These, 
 these are the warm realities of those three visionary 
 shapes that flitted from me on the beach. Hark ! their 
 merry voices as they toss up the water with their feet ! 
 They have not seen me. I must shrink behind this 
 rock and steal away again. 
 
 In honest truth, vowed to solitude as I am, there 
 is something in this encounter that makes the heart 
 
 O 
 
 flutter with a strangely pleasant sensation. I know 
 these girls to be realities of flesh and blood, yet, 
 glancing at them so briefly, they mingle like kindred 
 creatures with the ideal beings of my mind. It is 
 pleasant, likewise, to gaze down from some high crag, 
 and watch a group of children, gathering pebbles and 
 pearly shells, and playing with the surf, as with old 
 Ocean s hoary beard. Nor does it infringe upon my 
 seclusion to see yonder boat at anchor off the shore, 
 swinging dreamily to and fro, and rising and sinking 
 with the alternate swell ; while the crew four gen 
 tlemen, in roundabout jackets are busy with their 
 fishing-lines. But, with an inward antipathy and a 
 
512 TWICE-TOLD TALES. 
 
 headlong flight, do I eschew the presence of any medi 
 tative stroller like myself, known by his pilgrim staff, 
 his sauntering step, his shy demeanor, his observant 
 yet abstracted eye. From such a man, as if another 
 self had scared me, I scramble hastily over the rocks, 
 and take refuge in a nook which many a secret hour 
 has given me a right to call my own. I would do 
 battle for it even with the churl that should produce 
 the title deeds. Have not my musings melted into its 
 rocky walls and sandy floor, and made them a portion 
 of myself ? 
 
 It is a recess in the line of cliffs, walled round by a 
 rough, high precipice, which almost encircles and shuts 
 in a little space of sand. In front, the sea appears aa 
 between the pillars of a portal. In the rear, the preci 
 pice is broken and intermixed with earth, which gives 
 nourishment not only to clinging and twining shrubs, 
 but to trees, that gripe the rock with their naked roots, 
 and seem to struggle hard for footing and for soil 
 enough to live upon. These are fir-trees; but oaks 
 hang their heavy branches from above, and throw 
 down acorns on the beach, and shed their withering 
 foliage upon the waves. At this autumnal season the 
 precipice is decked with variegated splendor ; trailing 
 wreaths of scarlet flaunt from the summit downward ; 
 tufts of yellow-flowering shrubs, and rose-bushes, with 
 their reddened leaves and glossy seed berries, sprout 
 from each crevice ; at every glance, I detect some new 
 light or shade of beauty, all contrasting with the stern, 
 gray rock. A rill of water trickles down the cliff 
 and fills a little cistern near the base. I drain it at a 
 draught, and find it fresh and pure. This recess shall 
 be my dining hall. And what the feast ? A few bis- 
 Ruits made savory by soaking them in sea- water, a tuft 
 
FOOTPRINTS ON THE SEA-SHORE. 513 
 
 of samphire gathered from the beach, and an apple for 
 the dessert. By this time the little rill has filled its 
 reservoir again ; and, as I quaff it, I thank God more 
 heartily than for a civic banquet, that He gives me 
 the healthful appetite to make a feast of bread and 
 water. 
 
 Dinner being over, I throw myself at length upon 
 the sand, and, basking in the sunshine, let my mind 
 disport itself at will. The walls of this my hermitage 
 have no tongue to tell my follies, though I sometimes 
 fancy that they have ears to hear them, and a soid to 
 sympathize. There is a magic in this spot. Dreams 
 haunt its precincts and flit around me in broad sun 
 light, nor require that sleep shall blindfold me to real 
 objects ere these be visible. Here can I frame a story 
 of two lovers, and make their shadows live before me 
 and be mirrored in the tranquil water, as they tread 
 along the sand, leaving no footprints. Here, should I 
 will it, I can summon up a single shade, and be myself 
 her lover. Yes, dreamer, but your lonely heart will 
 be the colder for such fancies. Sometimes, too, the 
 Past comes back and finds me here, and in her train 
 come faces which were gladsome when I knew them, 
 yet seem not gladsome now. Would that my hiding- 
 place were lonelier, so that the past might not find 
 me ! Get ye all gone, old friends, and let me listen 
 to the murmur of the sea, a melancholy voice, but 
 less sad than yours. Of what mysteries is it telling ? 
 Of sunken ships and whereabouts they lie ? Of isl 
 ands afar and undiscovered, whose tawny children are 
 unconscious of other islands and of continents, and 
 deem the stars of heaven their nearest neighbors? 
 Nothing of all this. What then ? Has it talked for 
 so many ages and meant nothing all the while ? No ; 
 
 YOL. L 33 
 
514 TWICE-TOLD TALES. 
 
 for those ages find utterance in the sea s unchanging 
 voice, and warn the listener to withdraw his interest 
 from mortal vicissitudes, and let the infinite idea of 
 eternity pervade his soul. This is wisdom ; and, there 
 fore, will I spend the next half hour in shaping little 
 boats of driftwood, and launching them on voyages 
 across the cove, with a feather of a sea-gull for a sail. 
 If the voice of ages tell me true, this is as wise an oc 
 cupation as to build ships of five hundred tons, and 
 launch them forth upon the main, bound to "far 
 Cathay." Yet, how would the merchant sneer at me ! 
 And, after all, can such philosophy be true? Me- 
 thinks, I could find a thousand arguments against it. 
 Well, then, let yonder shaggy rock, mid-deep in the 
 surf see ! he is somewhat wrathful, he rages and 
 roars and foams let that tall rock be my antagonist, 
 and let me exercise my oratory like him of Athens, 
 who bandied words with an angry sea and got the 
 victory. My maiden speech is a triumphant one ; for 
 the gentleman in sea-weed has nothing to offer in re 
 ply, save an immitigable roaring. His voice, indeed, 
 will be heard a long while after mine is hushed. Once 
 more I shout and the cliffs reverberate the sound. Oh, 
 what joy for a shy man to feel himself so solitary, that 
 he may lift his voice to its highest pitch without haz 
 ard of a listener ! But, hush ! be silent, my good 
 friend ! whence comes that stifled laughter ? It was 
 musical, but how should there be such music in my 
 solitude? Looking upwards, I catch a glimpse of 
 three faces, peeping from the summit of the cliff, like 
 angels between me and their native sky. Ah, fair 
 girls, you may make yourselves merry at my eloquence, 
 but it was my turn to smile when I saw your white 
 feet in the pool ! Let us keep each other s secrets. 
 
FOOTPRINTS ON THE SEA-SHORE. 515 
 
 The sunshine has now passed from my hermitage, 
 except a gleam upon the sand just where it meets the 
 sea, A crowd of gloomy fantasies will come and 
 haunt me if I tarry longer here in the darkening 
 twilight of these gray rocks. This is a dismal place 
 in some moods of the mind. Climb we, therefore, the 
 precipice, and pause a moment on the brink, gazing 
 down into that hollow chamber by the deep where we 
 have been, what few can be, sufficient to our own pas 
 time yes, sav the word outright ! self-sufficient to 
 our own happiness. How lonesome looks the recess 
 now, and dreary too like all other spots where hap 
 piness has been ! There lies my shadow in the depart 
 ing sunshine with its head upon the sea, I will pelt 
 it with pebbles. A hit! a hit! I clap my hands 
 in triumph, and see ! my shadow clapping its unreal 
 hands, and claiming the triumph for itself. \\ hat a 
 simpleton must I have been all day, since my own 
 shadow makes a mock of my fooleries ! 
 
 Homeward ! homeward ! It is time to hasten home. 
 It is time ; it is time ; for as the sun sinks over the 
 western wave, the sea grows melancholy, and the surf 
 has a saddened tone. The distant sails appear astray, 
 and not of earth, in their remoteness amid the desolate 
 waste. My spirit wanders forth afar, but finds no 
 resting-place and comes shivering back. It is time 
 that I were hence. But grudge me not the day that 
 has been spent in seclusion, which yet was not solitude, 
 since the great sea has been my companion, and the 
 little sea-birds my friends, and the wind has told me 
 his secrets, and airy shapes have flitted around me 
 in my hermitage. Such companionship works an 
 effect upon a man s character, as if he had been 
 admitted to the society of creatures that are not 
 
516 TWICE-TOLD TALES. 
 
 mortal. And when, at noontide, I tread the crowded 
 streets, the influence of this day will still be felt ; so 
 that I shall walk among men kindly and as a brother, 
 with affection and sympathy, but yet shall not melt 
 into the indistinguishable mass of human-kind. I shall 
 think my own thoughts, and feel my own emotions, 
 and possess my individuality unviolated. 
 
 But it is good, at the eve of such a day, to feel and 
 know that there are men and women in the world. 
 That feeling and that knowledge are mine at this 
 moment ; for, on the shore far below me, the fishing- 
 party have landed from their skiff, and are cooking 
 their scaly prey by a fire of driftwood, kindled in the 
 angle of two rude rocks. The three visionary girls 
 are likewise there. In the deepening twilight, while 
 the surf is dashed near their hearth, the ruddy gleam 
 of the fire throws a strange air of comfort over the 
 wild cove, bestrewn as it is with pebbles and sea-weed, 
 and exposed to the "melancholy main." Moreover, 
 as the smoke climbs up the precipice, it brings with it 
 a savory smell from a pan of fried fish and a black 
 kettle of chowder, and reminds me that my dinner was 
 nothing but bread and water, and a tuft of samphire 
 and an apple. Methinks the party might find room 
 for another guest at that flat rock which serves them 
 for a table ; and if spoons be scarce, I could pick up 
 a clamshell on the beach. They see me now ; and 
 the blessing of a hungry man upon him ! one of 
 them sends up a hospitable shout halloo, Sir Soli 
 tary ! come down and sup with us ! The ladies wave 
 their handkerchiefs. Can I decline ? No ; and be it 
 owned, after all my solitary joys, that this is the sweet 
 est moment of a Day by the Sea-Shore. 
 
EDWARD FAXE S ROSEBUD. 
 
 THERE is hardly a more difficult exercise of fancy 
 than, while gazing at a figure of melancholy age, to 
 recreate its youth, and, without entirely obliterating 
 the identity of form and features, to restore those 
 graces which time has snatched away. Some old 
 people, especially women, so age-worn and woful are 
 they, seem never to have been young and gay. It is 
 easier to conceive that such gloomy phantoms were 
 sent into the world as withered and decrepit as w r e 
 behold them now, with sympathies only for pain and 
 grief, to watch at death-beds and weep at funerals. 
 Even the sable garments of their widowhood appear 
 essential to their existence ; all their attributes com 
 bine to render them darksome shadows, creeping 
 strangely amid the sunshine of human life. Yet it is 
 no unprofitable task to take one of these doleful creat 
 ures, and set fancy resolutely at work to brighten the 
 dim eye, and darken the silvery locks, and paint the 
 ashen cheek with rose color, and repair the shrunken 
 and crazy form, till a dewy maiden shall be seen in 
 the old matron s elbow-chair. The miracle being 
 wrought, then let the years roll back again, each sad 
 der than the last, and the whole weight of age and 
 sorrow settle down upon the youthful figure. Wrin 
 kles and furrows, the handwriting of Time, may thus 
 be deciphered, and found to contain deep lessons of 
 thought and feeling. Such profit might be derived 
 by a skilful observer from my much-respected friend, 
 
518 TWICE-TOLD TALES. 
 
 the Widow Toothaker, a nurse of great repute, who 
 has breathed the atmosphere of sick-chambers and 
 dying breaths these forty years. 
 
 See ! she sits cowering over her* lonesome hearth, 
 with her gown and upper petticoat drawn upward, 
 gathering thriftly into her person the whole warmth 
 of the fire, which, now at nightfall, begins to dissi 
 pate the autumnal chill of her chamber. The blaze 
 quivers capriciously in front, alternately glimmering 
 into the deepest chasms of her wrinkled visage, and 
 then permitting a ghostly dimness to mar the outlines 
 of her venerable figure. And Nurse Toothaker holds 
 a teaspoon in her right hand, with which to stir up 
 the contents of a tumbler in her left, whence steams 
 a vapory fragrance, abhorred of temperance societies. 
 Now she sips now stirs now sips again. Her sad 
 old heart has need to be revived by the rich infusion of 
 Geneva, which is mixed half and half with hot water, 
 in the tumbler. All day long she has been sitting 
 by a death-pillow, and quitted it for her home only 
 when the spirit of her patient left the clay and went 
 homeward too. But now are her melancholy medita 
 tions cheered, and her torpid blood warmed, and her 
 shoulders lightened of at least twenty ponderous years, 
 by a draught from the true Fountain of Youth in a 
 case bottle. It is strange that men should deem that 
 fount a fable, when its liquor fills more bottles than 
 the congress water ! Sip it again, good nurse, and see 
 whether a second draught will not take off another 
 score of years, and perhaps ten more, and show us, 
 in your high-backed chair, the blooming damsel who 
 plighted troths with Edward Fane. Get you gone, 
 Age and Widowhood ! Come back, un wedded Youth! 
 But, alas ! the charm will not work. In spite of fancy s 
 
EDWARD FANE S ROSEBUD. 519 
 
 most potent spell, I can see only an old dame cower 
 ing over the fire, a picture of decay and desolation, 
 while the November blast roars at her in the chimney, 
 and fitful showers rush suddenly against the window. 
 
 Yet there was a time when Rose Graf ton such 
 was the pretty maiden name of Nurse Toothaker 
 possessed beauty that would have gladdened this dim 
 and dismal chamber as with sunshine. It won for her 
 the heart of Edward Fane, who has since made so 
 great a figure in the world and is now a grand old 
 gentleman, with powdered hair, and as gouty as a 
 lord. These early lovers thought to have walked hand 
 in hand through life. They had wept together for 
 Edward s little sister Mary, whom Rose tended in her 
 sickness, partly because she was the sweetest child 
 that ever lived or died, but more for love of him. She 
 was but three years old. Being such an infant, Death 
 could not embody his terrors in her little corpse ; nor 
 did Rose fear to touch the dead child s brow, though 
 chill, as she curled the silken hair around it, nor to 
 take her tiny hand and clasp a flower within its fin 
 gers. Afterward, when she looked through the pane 
 of glass in the coffin lid, and beheld Mary s face, it 
 seemed not so much like death, or life, as like a wax 
 work, wrought into the perfect image of a child asleep, 
 and dreaming of its mother s smile. Rose thought 
 her too fair a thing to be hidden in the grave, and 
 wondered that an angel did not snatch up little Mary s 
 coffin, and bear the slumbering babe to heaven, and 
 bid her wake immortal. But when the sods were laid 
 on little Mary, the heart of Rose was troubled. She 
 shuddered at the fantasy, that, in grasping the child s 
 cold fingers, her virgin hand had exchanged a first 
 greeting with mortality, and could never lose the 
 
520 TWICE-TOLD TALES 
 
 earthly taint. How many a greeting since ! But as 
 yet, she was a fair young girl, with the dew-drops of 
 fresh feeling in her bosom ; and instead of Rose, which 
 seemed too mature a name for her half-opened beauty, 
 her lover called her Rosebud. 
 
 The rosebud was destined never to bloom for Ed 
 ward Fane. His mother was a rich and haughty dame 
 with all the aristocratic prejudices of colonial times. 
 She scorned Rose Grafton s humble parentage, and 
 caused her son to break his faith, though, had she let 
 him choose, he would have prized his Rosebud above 
 the richest diamond. The lovers parted, and have 
 seldom met again. Both may have visited the same 
 mansions, but not at the same time ; for one was bid 
 den to the festal hall, and the other to the sick-cham 
 ber ; he was the guest of Pleasure and Prosperity, and 
 she of Anguish. Rose, after their separation, was 
 long secluded within the dwelling of Mr. Toothaker, 
 whom she married with the revengeful hope of break 
 ing her false lover s heart. She went to her bride 
 groom s arms with bitterer tears, they say, than young 
 girls ought to shed at the threshold of the bridal 
 chamber. Yet, though her husband s head was getting 
 gray, and his heart had been chilled with an autumnal 
 frost, Rose soon began to love him, and wondered at 
 her own conjugal affection. He was all she had to 
 love ; there were no children. 
 
 In a year or two, poor Mr. Toothaker was visited 
 with a wearisome infirmity, which settled in his joints, 
 and made him weaker than a child. He crept forth 
 about his business, and came home at dinner time and 
 eventide, not with the manly tread that gladdens a 
 wife s heart, but slowly, feebly, jotting down each dull 
 footstep with a melancholy dub of his staff. We must 
 
EDWARD FANE S ROSEBUD. 521 
 
 pardon his pretty wife, if she sometimes blushed to 
 own him. Her visitors, when they heard him coming, 
 looked for the appearance of some old, old man ; but 
 he dragged his nerveless limbs into the parlor and 
 there was Mr. Toothaker ! The disease increasing, 
 he never went into the sunshine, save with a staff in 
 his right hand and his left on his wife s shoulder, 
 bearing heavily downward, like a dead man s hand. 
 Thus, a slender woman, still looking maiden-like, she 
 supported his tall, broad-chested frame along the path 
 way of their little garden, and plucked the roses for 
 her gray-haired husband, and spoke soothingly, as to 
 an infant. His mind was palsied with his body ; its 
 utmost energy was peevishness. In a few months 
 more, she helped him up the staircase, with a pause at 
 every step, and a longer one upon the landing-place, 
 and a heavy glance behind, as he crossed the threshold 
 of his chamber. He knew, poor man, that the pre 
 cincts of those four walls would thenceforth be his 
 world his world, his home, his tomb at once a 
 dwelling and a burial-place, till he were borne to a 
 darker and a narrower one. But Rose was with him 
 in the tomb. He leaned upon her in his daily passage 
 from the bed to the chair by the fireside, and back 
 again from the weary chair to the joyless bed his 
 bed and hers their marriage-bed; till even this 
 short journey ceased, and his head lay all day upon 
 the pillow, and hers all night beside it. How long 
 poor Mr. Toothaker was kept in misery! Death 
 seemed to draw near the door, and often to lift the 
 latch, and sometimes to thrust his ugly skull into the 
 chamber, nodding to Rose, and pointing at her hus 
 band, but still delayed to enter. fc This bedridden 
 nretch cannot escape ine ! " quoth Death. "I will go 
 
522 TWICE-TOLD TALES. 
 
 fortli and run a race with the swift, and fight a battle 
 with the strong, and come back for Toothaker at my 
 leisure ! " Oh, when the deliverer came so near, in the 
 dull anguish of her worn-out sympathies, did she never 
 long to cry, " Death, come in ! " 
 
 But, no ! We have no right to ascribe such a wish 
 to our friend Rose. She never failed in a wife s duty 
 to her poor sick husband. She murmured not, though 
 a glimpse of the sunny sky was as strange to her as 
 him, nor answered peevishly, though his complaining 
 accents roused her from her sweetest dream, only to 
 share his wretchedness. He knew her faith, yet nour 
 ished a cankered jealousy ; and when the slow disease 
 had chilled all his heart, save one lukewarm spot, 
 which Death s frozen fingers were searching for, his 
 last words were : " What would my Rose have done 
 for her first love, if she has been so true and kind to 
 a sick old man like me ! " And then his poor soul 
 crept away, and left the body lifeless, though hardly 
 more so than for years before, and Rose a widow, 
 though in truth it was the wedding-night that wid 
 owed her. She felt glad, it must be owned, when Mr. 
 Toothaker was buried, because his corpse had retained 
 such a likeness to the man half alive, that she heark 
 ened for the sad murmur of his voice, bidding her 
 shift his pillow. But all through the next winter, 
 though the grave had held him many a month, she 
 fancied him calling from that cold bed, " Rose ! Rose I 
 come put a blanket on my feet ! " 
 
 So now the Rosebud was the Widow Toothaker. 
 Her troubles had come early, and, tedious as they 
 seemed, had passed before all her bloom was fled. 
 She was still fair enough to captivate a bachelor, or, 
 with a widow s cheerful gravity, she might have won 
 
EDWARD FANE S ROSEBUD. 523 
 
 a widower, stealing into his heart in the very guise of 
 his dead wife. But the Widow Toothaker had no 
 such projects. By her watchings and continual cares 
 her heart had become knit to her first husband with 
 a constancy which changed its very nature, and made 
 her love him for his infirmities, and infirmity for his 
 sake. When the palsied old man was gone, even her 
 early lover could not have supplied his place. She 
 had dwelt in a sick-chamber, and been the companion 
 of a half -dead wretch, till she could scarcely breathe in 
 a free air, and felt ill at ease with the healthy and 
 the happy. She missed the fragrance of the doctor s 
 stuff . She walked the chamber with a noiseless foot 
 fall. If visitors came in she spoke in soft and sooth 
 ing accents, and was startled and shocked by their 
 loud voices. Often, in the lonesome evening, she 
 looked timorously from the fireside to the bed, with al 
 most a hope of recognizing a ghastly face upon the pil 
 low. Then went her thoughts sadly to her husband s 
 grave. If one impatient throb had wronged him in 
 his lifetime, if she had secretly repined because 
 her buoyant youth was imprisoned with his torpid age, 
 
 if ever, while slumbering beside him, a treacherous 
 
 dream had admitted another into her heart, yet the 
 sick man had been preparing a revenge which the 
 dead now claimed. On his painful pillow he had cast 
 a spell around her ; his groans and misery had proved 
 more captivating charms than gayety and youthful 
 grace; in his semblance Disease itself had won the 
 Rosebud for a bride ; nor could his death dissolve the 
 nuptials. By that indissoluble bond she had gained a 
 home in every sick-chamber, and nowhere else : there 
 were her brethren and sisters ; thither her husband 
 summoned her with that voice which had seemed t 
 
524 TWICE-TOLD TALES. 
 
 issue from the grave of Toothaker. At length she 
 recognized her destiny. 
 
 We have beheld her as the maid, the wife, the 
 widow ; now we see her in a separate and insulated 
 character ; she was, in all her attributes, Nurse Tooth 
 aker. And Nurse Toothaker alone, with her own 
 shrivelled lips, could make known her experience in 
 that capacity. What a history might she record of 
 the great sicknesses in which she has gone hand in 
 hand with the exterminating angel ! She remembers 
 when the small-pox hoisted a red banner on almost 
 every house along the street. She has witnessed when 
 the typhus fever swept off a whole household, young 
 and old, all but a lonely mother, who vainly shrieked 
 to follow her last loved one. Where would be Death s 
 triumph, if none lived to weep ? She can speak of 
 strange maladies that have broken out, as if sponta 
 neously, but were found to have been imported from 
 foreign lands, with rich silks and other merchandise, 
 the costliest portion of the cargo. And once, she rec 
 ollects, the people died of what was considered a new 
 pestilence, till the doctors traced it to the ancient 
 grave of a young girl, who thus caused many deaths 
 a hundred years after her own burial. Strange, that 
 such black mischief should lurk in a maiden s grave ! 
 She loves to tell how strong men fight with fiery 
 fevers, utterly refusing to give up their breath ; and 
 how consumptive virgins fade out of the world, 
 scarcely reluctant, as if their lovers were wooing 
 them to a far country. Tell us, thou fearful woman ! 
 tell us the death secrets ! Fain would I search out the 
 meaning of words, faintly gasped with intermingled 
 sobs and broken sentences, half audibly spoken be 
 tween earth and the judgment seat ! 
 
EDWARD FANE S ROSEBUD. 525 
 
 An awful woman ! She is the patron saint of young 
 physicians, and the bosom friend of old ones. In 
 the mansions where she enters, the inmates provide 
 themselves black garments ; the coffin maker follows 
 her ; and the bell tolls as she comes away from the 
 threshold. Death himself has met her at so many a 
 bedside, that he puts forth his bony hand to greet 
 Nurse Toothaker. She is an awful woman ! And, 
 oh! is it conceivable, that this handmaid of human 
 infirmity and affliction so darkly stained, so thor 
 oughly imbued with all that is saddest in the doom of 
 mortals can ever again be bright and gladsome, 
 even though bathed in the sunshine of eternity ? By 
 her long communion with woe has she not forfeited 
 her inheritance of immortal joy ? Does any germ of 
 bliss survive within her? 
 
 Hark ! an eager knocking at Nurse Toothaker s 
 door. She starts from her drowsy reverie, sets aside 
 the empty tumbler and teaspoon, and lights a lamp 
 at the dim embers of the fire. Rap, rap, rap ! again ; 
 and she hurries aclown the staircase, wondering which 
 of her friends can be at death s door now, since there 
 is such an earnest messenger at Nurse Toothaker s. 
 Again the peal resounds, just as her hand is on the 
 lock. " Be quick, Nurse Toothaker ! " cries a man on 
 the doorsteps ; " old General Fane is taken with the 
 gout in his stomach, and has sent for you to watch by 
 his death-bed. Make haste, for there is no time to 
 lose ! " " Fane I Edward Fane ! And has he sent for 
 me at last ? I am ready ! I will get on my cloak 
 and begone. So," adds the sable-gowned, ashen-vis- 
 aged, funereal old figure, u Edward Fane remembers 
 his Rosebud ! " 
 
 Our question is answered. There is a germ of bliss 
 
526 TWICE-TOLD TALES. 
 
 within her. Her long-hoarded constancy her mem- 
 ory of the bliss that was remaining amid the gloom 
 of her after life like a sweet-smelling flower in a cof 
 fin, is a symbol that all may be renewed. In some 
 happier clime the Rosebud may revive again with all 
 the dewdrops in its bosom. 
 
 
 
THE THREEFOLD DESTINY. 
 
 A FAIRY LEGEND. 
 
 I HAVE sometimes produced a singular and not un- 
 pleasing effect, so far as my own mind was concerned, 
 by imagining a train of incidents in which the spirit 
 and mechanism of the fairy legend should be combined 
 with the characters and manners of familiar life. In 
 the little tale which follows, a subdued tinge of the 
 wild and wonderful is thrown over a sketch of New 
 England personages and scenery, yet, it is hoped, 
 without entirely obliterating the sober hues of nature. 
 Rather than a story of events claiming to be real, it 
 may be considered as an allegory, such as the writers 
 of the last century woidd have expressed in the shape 
 of an Eastern tale, but to which I have endeavored to 
 give a more life-like warmth than could be infused into 
 those fanciful productions. 
 
 In the twilight of a summer eve, a tall, dark figure, 
 over which long and remote travel had thrown an out 
 landish aspect, was entering a village, not in " Fairy 
 Londe," but within our own familiar boundaries. The 
 staff on which this traveller leaned had been his com 
 panion from the spot where it grew, in the jungles of 
 Hindostan ; the hat that overshadowed his sombre 
 brow had shielded him from the suns of Spain : but 
 his cheek had been blackened by the red-hot wind of 
 an Arabian desert, and had felt the frozen breath of 
 an Arctic region. Long sojourning amid wild and 
 
528 TWICE-TOLD TALES. 
 
 dangerous men, he still wore beneath his vest the ata* 
 ghan which he had once struck into the throat of a 
 Turkish robber. In every foreign clime he had lost 
 something of his New England characteristics ; and, 
 perhaps, from every people he had unconsciously bor 
 rowed a new peculiarity ; so that when the world-wan 
 derer again trod the street of his native village it is 
 no wonder that he passed unrecognized, though excit 
 ing the gaze and curiosity of all. Yet, as his arm 
 casually touched that of a young woman who was 
 wending her way to an evening lecture she started, 
 and almost uttered a cry. 
 
 " Kalph Cranfield ! " was the name that she half 
 articulated. 
 
 " Can that be my old playmate, Faith Egerton ? " 
 thought the traveller, looking round at her figure, but 
 without pausing. 
 
 Kalph Cranfield, from his youth upward, had felt 
 himself marked out for a high destiny. He had im 
 bibed the idea we say not whether it were revealed 
 to him by witchcraft, or in a dream of prophecy, or 
 that his brooding fancy had palmed its own dictates 
 upon him as the oracles of a Sibyl ! but he had im 
 bibed the idea, and held it firmest among his articles 
 of faith, that three marvellous events of his life were 
 to be confirmed to him by three signs. 
 
 The first of these three fatalities, and perhaps the 
 one on which his youthful imagination had dwelt most 
 fondly, was the discovery of the maid who alone, of all 
 the maids on earth, could make him happy by her love. 
 He was to roam around the world till he should meet 
 a beautiful woman wearing on her bosom a jewel in 
 the shape of a heart ; whether of pearl, or ruby, or 
 emerald, or carbuncle, or a changeful opal, or perhaps 
 
THE THREEFOLD DESTINY. 529 
 
 a priceless diamond, Ralph Cranfield little cared, so 
 long as it were a heart of one peculiar shape. On 
 encountering this lovely stranger, he was bound to 
 address her thus : " Maiden, I have . brought you a 
 heavy heart. May I rest its weight, on you ? " And 
 if she were his fated bride if their kindred souls 
 were destined to form a union here below, which all 
 eternity should only bind more closely she would 
 reply, with her finger on the heart-shaped jewel, 
 " This token, which I have worn so long, is the assur 
 ance that you may ! " 
 
 And, secondly, Ralph Cranfield had a firm belief 
 that there was a mighty treasure hidden somewhere in 
 the earth, of which the burial-place woidd be revealed 
 to none but him. When his feet should press upon 
 the mysterious spot, there would be a hand before him 
 pointing downward whether carved of marble, or 
 hewn in gigantic dimensions on the side of a rocky 
 precipice, or perchance a hand of flame in empty air, 
 he could not tell ; but, at least, he would discern a 
 hand, the forefinger pointing downward, and beneath 
 it the Latin word EFFODE Dig ! and digging there 
 abouts, the gold in coin or ingots, the precious stones, 
 or of whatever else the treasure might consist, would 
 be certain to reward his toil. 
 
 The third and last of the miraculous events in the 
 life of this high-destined man was to be the attainment 
 of extensive influence and sway over his fellow-crea 
 tures. Whether he were to be a king and founder of 
 an hereditary throne, or the -victorious leader of a peo 
 ple contending for their freedom, or the apostle of a 
 purified and regenerated faith, was left for futurity to 
 show. As messengers of the sign by which Ralph 
 Cranfield might recognize the summons, three vener- 
 
 VOL i. 84 
 
530 TWICE-TOLD TALES. 
 
 able men were to claim audience of him. The chief 
 among them, a dignified and majestic person, arrayed, 
 it may be supposed, in the flowing garments of an an 
 cient sage, would be the bearer of a wand or prophet s 
 rod. With this wand, or rod, or staff, the venerable 
 sage would trace a certain figure in the air, and then 
 proceed to make known his heaven-instructed message ; 
 which, if obeyed, must lead to glorious results. 
 
 With this proud fate before him, in the flush of his 
 imaginative youth, Ralph Cranfield had set forth to 
 seek the maid, the treasure, and the venerable sage 
 with his gift of extended empire. And had he found 
 them ? Alas ! it was not with the aspect of a triumph 
 ant man, who had achieved a nobler destiny than all 
 his fellows, but rather with the gloom of one strug 
 gling against peculiar and continual adversity, that he 
 now passed homeward to his mother s cottage. He 
 had come back, but only for a time, to lay aside the 
 pilgrim s staff, trusting that his weary manhood would 
 regain somewhat of the elasticity of youth, in the spot 
 where his threefold fate had been foreshown him. 
 There had been few changes in the village ; for it 
 was not one of those thriving places where a year s 
 prosperity makes more than the havoc of a century s 
 decay ; but like a gray hair in a young man s head, 
 an antiquated little town, full of old maids, and aged 
 elms, and moss-grown dwellings. Few seemed to be 
 the changes here. The drooping elms, indeed, had a 
 more majestic spread ; the weather-blackened houses 
 were adorned with a denser thatch of verdant moss ; 
 and doubtless there were a few more gravestones in 
 the burial ground, inscribed with names that had once 
 been familiar in the village street. Yet, summing up 
 all the mischief that ten years had wrought, it seemed 
 
 
 
THE THREEFOLD DESTINY. 531 
 
 scarcely more than if Ralph Cranfield had gone forth 
 that very morning, and dreamed a day-dream till the 
 twilight, and then turned back again. But his heart 
 grew cold because the village did not remember him 
 as he remembered the village. 
 
 " Here is the change ! " sighed he, striking his hand 
 upon his breast. " Who is this man of thought and 
 care, weary with world-wandering and heavy with dis 
 appointed hopes ? The youth returns not, who went 
 forth so joyously ! " 
 
 And now Ralph Cranfield was at his mother s gate, 
 m front of the small house where the old lady, with 
 slender but sufficient means, had kept herself com 
 fortable during her son s long absence. Admitting 
 himself within the enclosure, he leaned against a 
 great, old tree, trifling with his own impatience, as 
 people often do in those intervals when years are 
 summed into a moment. He took a minute survey 
 of the dwelling its windows brightened with the 
 sky gleam, its doorway, with the half of a millstone 
 for a step, and the faintly-traced path waving thence to 
 the gate. He made friends again with his childhood s 
 friend, the old tree against which he leaned ; and 
 glancing his eye adown its trunk, beheld something 
 that excited a melancholy smile. It was a half oblit 
 erated inscription the Latin word EFFODE which 
 he remembered to have carved in the bark of the tree, 
 with a whole day s toil, when he had first begun to 
 muse about his exalted destiny. It might be accounted 
 a rather singular coincidence, that the bark just above 
 the inscription, had put forth an excrescence, shaped 
 not unlike a hand, with the forefinger pointing ob 
 liquely at the word of fate. Such, at least, was its 
 appearance in the dusky light. 
 
532 TWICE-TOLD TALES. 
 
 "Now a credulous man," said Kalph Cranfield care 
 lessly to himself, "might suppose that the treasure 
 which I have sought round the world lies buried, after 
 all, at the very door of rny mother s dwelling. That 
 would be a jest indeed ! " 
 
 More he thought not about the matter ; for now the 
 door was opened, and an elderly woman appeared on 
 the threshold, peering into the dusk to discover who it 
 might be that had intruded on her premises, and was 
 standing in the shadow of her tree. It was Kalph 
 Cranfield s mother. Pass we over their greeting, and 
 leave the one to her joy and the other to his rest, 
 if quiet rest be found. 
 
 But when morning broke, he arose with a troubled 
 brow ; for his sleep and his wakef ulness had alike been 
 full of dreams. All the fervor was rekindled with 
 which he had burned of yore to unravel the threefold 
 mystery of his fate. The crowd of his early visions 
 seemed to have awaited him beneath his mother s roof, 
 and thronged riotously around to welcome his return. 
 In the well-remembered chamber, on the pillow where 
 his infancy had slumbered, he had passed a wilder 
 night than ever in an Arab tent, or when he had re 
 posed his head in the ghastly shades of a haunted for 
 est. A shadowy maid had stolen to his bedside, and 
 laid her finger on the scintillating heart ; a hand of 
 flame had glowed amid the darkness, pointing down 
 ward to a mystery within the earth ; a hoary sage had 
 waved his prophetic wand, and beckoned the dreamer 
 onward to a chair of state. The same phantoms, 
 though fainter in the daylight, still flitted about the 
 cottage, and mingled among the crowd of familiar faces 
 that were drawn thither by the news of Ralph Cran* 
 field s return, to bid him welcome for his mother g 
 
THE THREEFOLD DESTINY. 533 
 
 sake. There they found him, a tall, dark, stately man 
 of foreign aspect, courteous in demeanor and mild of 
 speech, yet with an abstracted eye, which seemed often 
 to snatch a glance at the invisible. 
 
 Meantime the widow Cranfield went bustling about 
 the house, full of joy that she again had somebody to 
 love, and be careful of, and for whom she might vex 
 and tease herself with the petty troubles of daily life. 
 It was nearly noon \vhen she looked forth from the 
 door, and descried three personages of note coming 
 along the street, through the hot sunshine and the 
 masses of elm-tree shade. At length they reached her 
 gate and undid the latch. 
 
 " See, Ralph ! " exclaimed she, with maternal pride, 
 " here is Squire Hawkwood and the two other select 
 men, coming on purpose to see you ! Now do tell them 
 a good long story about what you have seen in foreign 
 parts." 
 
 The foremost of the three visitors, Squire Hawk- 
 wood, was a very pompous, but excellent old gentle 
 man, the head and prime mover in all the affairs of 
 the village, and universally acknowledged to be one 
 of the sagest men on earth. He wore, according to 
 a fashion even then becoming antiquated, a three- 
 cornered hat, and carried a silver-headed cane, the use 
 of which seemed to be rather for flourishing in the air 
 than for assisting the progress of his legs. His two 
 companions were elderly and respectable yeomen, who, 
 retaining an ante-revolutionary reverence for rank and 
 hereditary wealth, kept a little in the Squire s rear. 
 As they approached along the pathway, Ralph Cran 
 field sat in an oaken elbow chair, half unconsciously 
 gazing at the three visitors, and enveloping their 
 -homely figures in the misty romance that pervaded 
 his mental world. 
 
534 TWICE-TOLD TALES. 
 
 " Here," thought he, smiling at the conceit, "here 
 come three elderly personages, and the first of the 
 three is a venerable sage with a staff. What if this 
 embassy should bring me the message of my fate ! " 
 
 While Squire Hawkwood and his colleagues entered, 
 Ralph rose from his seat and advanced a few steps to 
 receive them , and his stately figure and dark coun 
 tenance, as he bent courteously towards his guests, had 
 a natural dignity, contrasting well with the bustling 
 importance of the Squire. The old gentleman, accord 
 ing to invariable custom, gave an elaborate prelim 
 inary flourish with his cane in the air, then removed 
 his three-cornered hat in order to wipe his brow, and 
 finally proceeded to make known his errand. 
 
 "My colleagues and myself," began the Squire, 
 " are burdened with momentous duties, being jointly 
 selectmen of this village. Our minds, for the space 
 of three days past, have been laboriously bent on the 
 selection of a suitable person to fill a most important 
 office, and take upon himself a charge and rule which, 
 wisely considered, may be ranked no lower than those 
 of kings and potentates. And whereas you, our 
 native townsman, are of good natural intellect, and 
 well cultivated by foreign travel, and that certain va 
 garies and fantasies of your youth are doubtless long 
 ago corrected ; taking all these matters, I say, into 
 due consideration, we are of opinion that Providence 
 hath sent you hither, at this juncture, for our very 
 purpose." 
 
 During this harangue, Cranfield gazed fixedly at 
 the speaker, as if he beheld something mysterious and 
 unearthly in his pompous little figure, and as if the 
 Squire had worn the flowing robes of an ancient sage, 
 instead of a square-skirted coat, flapped waistcoat, 
 
 
 
THE THREEFOLD DESTINY. 535 
 
 velvet breeches and silk stockings. Nor was his won 
 der without sufficient cause ; for the flourish of the 
 Squire s staff, marvellous to relate, had described pre 
 cisely the signal in the air which was to ratify the 
 message of the prophetic* Sage whom Cranfield had 
 sought around the world. 
 
 "And what," inquired Ralph Cranfield, with a 
 tremor in his voice, " what may this office be, which 
 is to equal me with kings and potentates ? " 
 
 " No less than instructor of our village school," an 
 swered Squire Hawkwood ; " the office being now 
 vacant by the death of the venerable Master AVhita- 
 ker, after a fifty years incumbency." 
 
 " I will consider of your proposal," replied Ralph 
 Cranfield, hurriedly, " and will make known my de 
 cision within three days." 
 
 After a few more words the village dignitary and 
 his companions took their leave. But to Cranfield s 
 fancy their images were still present, and became 
 more and more invested with the dim awfulness of 
 figures which had first appeared to him in a dream, 
 and afterwards had shown themselves in his waking 
 moments, assuming homely aspects among familiar 
 things. His mind dwelt upon the features of the 
 Squire, till they grew confused with those of the vis 
 ionary Sage, and one appeared but the shadow of the 
 other. The same visage, he now thought, had looked 
 forth upon him from the Pyramid of Cheops ; the 
 same form had beckoned to him among the colon 
 nades of the Alhambra ; the same figure had mistily 
 revealed itself through the ascending steam of the 
 Great Geyser. At every effort of his memory he rec 
 ognized some trait of the dreamy Messenger of Des 
 tiny in this pompous, bustling, self-important, little 
 
636 TWICE-TOLD TALES. 
 
 great man of the village. Amid such musings Kalph 
 Cranfield sat all day in the cottage, scarcely hearing 
 and vaguely answering his mother s thousand ques 
 tions about his travels and adventures. At sunset 
 he roused himself to tak$ a stroll, and, passing the 
 aged elm-tree, his eye was again caught by the sem 
 blance of a hand pointing downward at the half-ob 
 literated inscription. 
 
 As Cranfield walked down the street of the village, 
 the level sunbeams threw his shadow far before him ; 
 and he fancied that as his shadow walked among dis 
 tant objects, so had there been a presentiment stalking 
 in advance of him throughout his life. And when he 
 drew near each object, over which his tall shadow had 
 preceded him, still it proved to be one of the familiar 
 recollections of his infancy and youth. Every crook 
 in the pathway was remembered. Even the more tran 
 sitory characteristics of the scene were the same as in 
 by-gone days. A company of cows were grazing on 
 the grassy roadside, and refreshed him with their fra 
 grant breath. " It is sweeter," thought he, " than 
 the perfume which was wafted to our ship from the 
 Spice Islands. The round little figure of a child 
 rolled from a doorway, and lay laughing almost be 
 neath Cranfield s feet. The dark and stately man 
 stooped down and, lifting the infant, restored him to 
 his mother s arms. " The children," said he to him 
 self and sighed and smiled " the children are to 
 be my charge ! " And while a flow of natural feeling 
 gushed like a well-spring in his heart, he came to a 
 dwelling which he could nowise forbear to enter. A 
 sweet voice, which seemed to come from a deep and 
 tender soul, was warbling a plaintive little air within. 
 
 He bent his head and passed through the lowly 
 
THE THREEFOLD DESTINY. 537 
 
 door. As his foot sounded upon the threshold, a 
 yoiing woman advanced from the dusky interior of 
 the house, at first hastily, and then with a more uncer 
 tain step, till they met face to face. There was a 
 singular contrast in their two figures : he dark and 
 picturesque one who had battled with the world, 
 whom all suns had shone upon, and whom all winds 
 had blown on a varied course ; she neat, comely, and 
 quiet quiet even in her agitation, as if all her 
 emotions had been subdued to the peaceful tenor of 
 her life. Yet their faces, all unlike as they were, had 
 an expression that seemed not so alien, a glow of 
 kindred feeling flashing upward anew from half-extin 
 guished embers. 
 
 " You are welcome home ! " said Faith Egerton. 
 
 But Cranfield did not immediately answer ; for his 
 eye had been caught by an ornament in the shape of 
 a Heart which Faith wore as a brooch upon her 
 bosom. The material was the ordinary white quartz ; 
 and he recollected having himself shaped it out of 
 one of those Indian arrowheads which are so often 
 found in the ancient haunts of the red men. It was 
 precisely on the pattern of that worn by the visionary 
 Maid. When Cranfield departed on his shadowy 
 search he had bestowed this brooch, in a gold setting, 
 as a parting gift to Faith Egerton. 
 
 " So, Faith, you have kept the Heart ! " said he at 
 length. 
 
 " Yes," said she, blushing deeply ; then more gayly, 
 " and what else have you brought me from beyond the 
 sea?" 
 
 " Faith ! " replied Ralph Cranfield, uttering the 
 fated words by an uncontrollable impulse, "I have 
 brought you nothing but a heavy heart ! May I rest 
 its weight on you? " 
 
538 TWICE-TOLD TALES. 
 
 " This token which I have worn so long," said 
 Faith, laying her tremulous finger on the Heart, "is 
 the assurance that you may ! " 
 
 " Faith ! Faith ! " cried Cranfield, clasping her in 
 his arms, " you have interpreted my wild and weary 
 dream ! " 
 
 Yes, the wild dream was awake at last. To find 
 the mysterious treasure, he was to till the earth around 
 his mother s dwelling, and reap its products ! Instead 
 of warlike command, or regal or religious sway, he 
 was to rule over the village children ! And now the 
 visionary Maid had faded from his fancy, and in her 
 place he saw the playmate of his childhood ! Would 
 all who cherish such wild wishes but look around 
 them, they would oftenest find their sphere of duty, 
 of prosperity, and happiness, within those precincts 
 and in that station where Providence itself has cast 
 their lot. Happy they who read the riddle without a 
 weary world search, or a lifetime spent in vain ! 
 
 THE END. 
 

 
 
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