THE LIBRARY 
 
 OF 
 
 THE UNIVERSITY 
 OF CALIFORNIA 
 
 LOS ANGELES

 
 MRS. BEN DARBY: 
 
 t iBtal ani StJot si f ami 
 
 BY 
 
 A. MARIA COLLINS. 
 
 O ! that men should put an enemy 
 
 In their mouths to steal away their brains ! That we should with joy, revel, 
 pleasure and applause, transform ourselves into beasts. OTHELLO. 
 
 THIRD EDITION. 
 
 CINCINNATI: 
 MOORE, ANDERSON, WILSTACH & KEYS, 
 
 28 WEST FOURTH STREKT. 
 
 1853.
 
 Entered, according to act of Congress, in the year 1853, by 
 
 ' MOORE, ANDERSON & COMPANY, 
 In the Clerk's Office of the District Court for the District of Ohio. 
 
 CINCINNATI: 
 
 0. A. MORGAN & CO., STEKEOTYPKHfi, 
 HAMMOND ST.
 
 PS 
 
 r? 
 
 MES. BEN DAEBY. 
 
 1213338
 
 MRS, BEN DARBY, 
 
 after I* 
 
 THE wind from the north had stripped the mountains of 
 their verdure, save where the clusters of evergreens clung 
 to the crevices of the rocks and the blasted elms. The 
 winter storm whistled rudely through the deep valleys, and 
 away over the summits of the gray rocks that overhung the 
 mountain's brow. The birds had gone in pursuit of a 
 warmer climate and a brighter sky. The deer and other 
 wild animals had taken up their winter-quarters in the 
 cavernous recesses of the Blue-Ridge. The snow had been 
 falling all day, and lay deep down in the valley and on the 
 fields. Night came on early ; the cattle had sought the 
 shelter of the barn, surrounded with its huge stacks of hay, 
 and with inimitable patience and resignation turned their 
 backs to the tempest. All was cold and dreary without, 
 but comfort reigned in the little parlor at Wolf-Gap. A huge 
 log-fire, encouraged by pine-knots, blazed on the hearth, 
 and was reflected from every corner of the spacious apart 
 ment. The little old-fashioned, selfish-looking tea-table, 
 the unshared property of the former inhabitant of the cot 
 tage, still occupied its corner, graced with its silver tea-urn 
 and its china cups. Mr. Temple sat by the candle-stand, 
 reading the Richmond Enquirer and the Petersburg Intel 
 ligencer. What had he to do with storms, either moral, 
 
 (5)
 
 6 MRS. BEN DAKBY. 
 
 political or elementary ? True, he read of the tumults 
 abroad ; of shipwrecks on the coast of Africa ; of- earth 
 quakes in Florida ; of mail-stage accidents, and of the dis 
 appearance of an elderly gentleman from the Baltimore 
 packet, who never had been heard of since, and was sup 
 posed to be drowned. 
 
 The stormy winds rattled the window-blinds, and lashed 
 the long branches of the gigantic willow against the gable- 
 end of the house. Nothing disturbed Mr. Temple all 
 about him was comfort. The tea-kettle was simmering be 
 fore the fire, sending out its diminutive locomotive whistle 
 with its puffs of steam. 
 
 Mr. Temple was a popular man in his county, and was 
 highly esteemed by all who knew him ; order and system 
 were in all his actions and domestic arrangements; the 
 returns of the seasons and changes of the weather never 
 found him unprepared or unsettled. Everything around 
 ' him was sheltered from the storm all went on like clock 
 work. The little tea-kettle still simmered and puffed at 
 " the top of its bent," when the loud barking of the dogs and 
 the trampings of a horse were heard on the new-fallen snow. 
 Then at the big gate was heard the salutation of some one, 
 " Halloo ! the house," and before Mr. Temple had folded 
 his paper and laid it aside, a loud rap announced a visitor. 
 
 The servant opened the parlor door, and a young 
 man with a coarse overcoat, stood in the center of the 
 room. He held a large bundle under the folds of his coat, 
 which he appeared to handle carefully and very suspi 
 ciously. 
 
 " How do you do 'Squire ?" said he, taking off his hat ; 
 "I hope I find you well."
 
 MRS. BEN DARBY. 7 
 
 " Ah, Larkins, is it you ; what brings you out on such a 
 night ?" 
 
 "You may well ask that question, 'Squire, for it is an 
 awful stormy night ; the snow is a foot deep, at least, and 
 the wind blows a perfect hurricane. It comes down from 
 the mountains with a perfect rush. Hush," continued he, 
 shaking the bundle under his arm, " where is Miss Paulina ?" 
 
 " Take a seat, Peter, she will be in immediately." 
 
 " I have brought her a Christmas gift, sir, and I am in 
 a great hurry, it is growing late and getting colder, you see, 
 sir. I have come from the Cross-Keys since sundown, and 
 the snow balls so under the horse's feet that I couldn't make 
 anyway at all hardly." 
 
 "Well, Larkins, lay the bundle on the table, Miss Temple 
 is much obliged to you for your present." 
 
 Here Mr. Temple was interrupted by the mysterious move 
 ments of his visitor, who began to draw off the coverings 
 which enveloped what he termed his Christmas-gift. A pair 
 of little feet presented themselves to view, then a small head, 
 with black, curly hair, and a gipsy-like eye peered out from 
 the cape of his coat, and looked wildly about the room. 
 
 " Larkins, are you drunk?" inquired the Squire. 
 " Sober as a judge, Squire," returned Larkins, " I have not 
 drank a drop for a week, as I knows of, and if I had it is likely 
 I would have known it, for I generally feel it ; you know it 
 pervades the whole system ; but, Squire, I can keep from 
 it when there is a needcessity, and I pities the man that 
 can't. But, see here, Miss Paulina, aint this worth picking 
 up on the " 
 
 " Oh ! what a beauty," cried Miss Temple, who stood in 
 the door perfectly astonished at the unexpected stranger.
 
 8 MRS. BKN DARBY. 
 
 Larkins had seated himself, and held the infant on his 
 knee, stroking back with his rough hand the silken ringlets 
 from its cold face. The babylooked up slyly into the face 
 of its kind nurse, then turning its eyes suddenly toward 
 Mr. Temple, a beautiful smile played over her features, and 
 reaching out both hands toward him, she struggled to get 
 to him. Mr. Temple could not resist the appeal ; he took 
 it in his arms, and did his best to hold it comfortably, but, 
 like a green politician just sworn into office, he did not ex 
 actly understand how to handle the affair, but he was in for 
 it and had to gq it. 
 
 " Now, Squire, I will just tell you how it all happened ; 
 I han't had anything in the house to drink for a month of 
 Sundays, so I thought, as Christmas was hard-by that this 
 was a good time to treat resolution, so I took my bottle and 
 started off to the forks of the road to get it filled; so just as 
 I got in sight of the Cross-Keys I met a gentleman riding 
 very fast; he slackened his pace when he seed me coming, 
 and drawing up his crittur under the big walnut tree by the 
 blacksmith's shop, called to me : 
 
 '"Peter Larkins,' said he, 'if I am not mistaken?' 
 ' Peter Larkins, says I, and no mistake.' ' Peter,' 
 says he, ' are you sure you are sober ?' ' I don't think, 
 says I, that you can be very well acquainted with me, and 
 make such insinuations.' 'Well, Larkins,' says he, ' I 
 know you of old, and I suppose, by this time, you know 
 me.' ' I don't know as I ever laid eyes on you before, 
 says I.' ' Well, Peter,' says he, ' I want you to take 
 this child to the ' Gap.' " For the first time I discovered 
 he had something under his cloak. ' I have just left the 
 stage, and must return in time to take it, when it passes
 
 MRS. BEN DARBY. 9 
 
 down to night ; you must place this child in the hands of its 
 aunt.' " 
 
 "Oh ! it is our own dear little Elinor," cried Miss Tem 
 ple, throwing herself on her knees before it. " Oh ! what 
 a sweet darling it is." 
 
 Mr. Temple pressed the child closely to his bosom with 
 a vehemence unusual to him. It was sometime before 
 Larkins could speak ; at last he broke the silence in a voice 
 a little husky : 
 
 "I always heard say, that blood was thicker than water." 
 
 "Where is my son, Peter?" asked Mr. Larkins. 
 
 "Well, sir, he bid me bring the child to Miss Temple, 
 and tell her to guard her well, for she was all he had left. 
 I insisted on his coming with me also, but he said he had 
 not a moment to lose, and as he had met me he would re 
 turn at once. He gave me the child; it was asleep; I came 
 on as fast as the nature of the case would permit. So you 
 see, Squire, that Peter Larkins can be depended on in a 
 pinch." 
 
 "I would have trusted you myself, coming this end of 
 the road ; but did my son say anything about his wife ; can 
 she have left him ?" 
 
 "I shouldn't wonder if she was dead," said Peter, "for 
 he looked like he missed something. So Squire, you would 
 not have trusted me, if I had been going toward the forks 
 of the road, or the ' Cross-Keys,' hey Squire ?" 
 
 "You have done bravely, Peter," said Mr. Temple, 
 "you see Paulina is delighted with her Christmas-gift." 
 
 Peter was forced to stay to supper, but Miss Temple was 
 so excited, that she could scarcely make tea, or perform
 
 10 MRS. BEN DAUBY. 
 
 the duties of the table ; and long after Peter had left the 
 cottage, and her father had retired to rest, she sat by the 
 fire, holding her beautiful niece in her lap, gazing on its 
 infantine features, and looking into its dark, brilliant eyes, 
 shaded with long lashes ; she examined its tiny fingers, 
 with their rosy nails, and the dimples in its flushed cheeks, 
 and she lavished upon it the most endearing epithets. At 
 length she placed it in her own bed, drew the curtains 
 around it, and kneeling down by the side, thanked Heaven 
 that she had something to love something to live for one 
 sweet tie of kindred affection to cheer her solitary way. 
 
 Miss Temple had never married, and every one said she 
 would live and die an old maid. There was a mystery 
 about it that had elicited many conjectures, but time, that 
 great tell-tale, passed on without making any revelations; 
 and the little circle in which she moved, became accus 
 tomed to see her preside over her father's household with 
 urbanity, zeal, and uniform decorum. If she had ever 
 suffered a sorrow, or been dissatisfied in her youthful days, 
 one thing was certain, it had not stolen the rose from her 
 cheek, or the luster from her eye, nor had it left a trace 
 upon her brow. It had never paralyzed the quick emotions 
 of her heart a heart overflowing with all the kind sensibili 
 ties of her sex. She lived in doing good in making others 
 better and happier. She had been very lovely in person. 
 It is true, time had brushed off the first tints of youth, but 
 had left her the full grace of womanhood. 
 
 The experience of man leads back upon a world of vicis 
 situdes, but that of an old maid who can trace it? Her 
 life is made up of so many trials and perplexities, uncared
 
 MRS. BEN DARBY. 11 
 
 for and unshared. Let her lot fall where it may, there i. 
 nothing left her but endurance and privation. 
 
 I have always believed that the divine Giver of all good, 
 holds in reversion a double portion of heavenly happiness for 
 her who has to stem the current of life alone to buffet 
 the waves of worldly contamination, unshielded and un- 
 sustained by earthly companionship. 
 
 * 
 
 - '.- *
 
 12 MRS. BEN DARBY". 
 
 after 2. 
 
 We were young, when you and I 
 
 Talked of golden things together, 
 Of love and rhymes, of books and men, 
 Ah, our hearts were buoyant then, 
 
 As the wild goose feather. BARRY CORNWALL 
 
 HENBT TEMPLE, the father of Elinor, was a noble, 
 frank, and polished gentleman. He possessed that amenity 
 of manners so very pleasing, yet so frequently the vail of 
 evil purposes. With him, it was the natural result of kindly 
 feelings, and generous impulses. He was alive most sensi 
 tively, to the principles which control and regulate the 
 honor of a gentleman. Pride of character was, perhaps, 
 the strongest point in his nature; and I am very sure it was 
 also strengthened by education, and parental example. 
 He had married a beautiful girl, with whom he kad formed 
 but a very slight acquaintance. She had been the belle 
 of the season ; he was rich, and her best cards had been 
 played to secure him. 
 
 It matters not how high and penetrative the mind of 
 man is (and woman too), on all the important subjects of 
 life, yet when love is the stake, how very often is the inex 
 plicable inconsistency of human nature betrayed. Henry 
 Temple was gay somewhat of a dasher at least fond of 
 amusements and high life, yet he could never be persuaded 
 to contract habits deleterious to his health, fortune, or 
 character. 
 
 He did not visit the Gap fo^^any months, and when he
 
 MRS. BEN DARBY. 13 
 
 .* 
 
 came, he was almost a shadow of himself. Sorrow and 
 disappointment were stamped upon his countenance. A 
 long attack of nervous fever, detained him at the home of 
 his youth during a whole winter, and his friends were 
 almost despairing of his recovery, when the return of 
 spring, and the invigorating air of the mountains, partially 
 restored his health and strength. During his illness, it was 
 evident to those around him that his disease was more of 
 a mental than bodily character. Some grief, deep and 
 corrosive, was laying waste the energies of his nature, and 
 draining the pure sources of his heart. So firmly had it 
 taken root, that he had not power to shake it off, or to re 
 lieve himself of its dominion. He seemed to have forgot 
 ten the essential purposes of life in this secret sorrow this 
 hidden mortification. He never named his wife, or alluded 
 to her in any of his conversations. As the spring advanced, 
 his frail and attenuated frame gathered strength more 
 rapidly, and a feeble smile sometimes was found stealing 
 over his stoic countenance. It was almost the middle of 
 May, I think, when he received letters which seemed to 
 arouse him from his dark dreams. 
 
 "I must," said he to his sister, "leave these beautiful 
 scenes, and quiet shades, for the bustle of city life ; I must 
 meet my fellow man ; it will not do for me to live in the 
 world, and shun it like a monk or a brigand. I must 
 struggle against fate ; I am resolved to meet it like a man ; 
 I have moped about here like an evil shadow long enough; 
 I give you, dear sister, my best confidence when I give you 
 my child ;" he placed the child upon her knee. " Keep 
 her from the whirlpool of fashion; hide her from pollution,"
 
 14 MRS. BEN DARBT. 
 
 he spoke very low, and with a quivering lip, " and as you 
 value my love, never no never let her taste ardent spirits. 
 
 " Oh ! what do you mean, brother ?" inquired Miss 
 Temple. 
 
 "I mean that it is the fiery worm that has stolen into 
 the Eden of my heart ; it has planted its poisonous fangs 
 so deep, that time cannot tear them from me. It is the 
 veriest curse of life. It saps the foundation of every 
 moral virtue, and sears with its baneful breath the sweetest 
 joys of life. It burns up every gentle emotion of the soul 
 stirs up the crushed dregs of every evil passion, until its 
 victim becomes a mass of degradation. It lays like an in 
 cubus upon the spirit, counting the trembling pulses of the 
 brain, with maddening fury eating out. the heart with its 
 blistering venom. Oh ! thou damning draught, earth has 
 no greater curse, or hell a greater torment." 
 
 "Brother! brother!" cried Miss Temple, laying her hand 
 on his lips, " Oh ! be not rash, or vehement, why should 
 you ?" 
 
 "Why should I not? that is the question." 
 
 " Dear brother, you have never fallen so low you are 
 free from such vices do not agitate yourself remember 
 to be temperate in all things." 
 
 "Ah! well," continued Henry, rubbing his brow, "I will 
 say to you, never let that child see a drunkard, without 
 telling her, that he is the most helpless, worthless, and the 
 most disgusting object that incumbers the earth. Teach 
 her to despise, not to pity him." 
 
 "I will teach her, Henry, that there is an innate power 
 in the soul of man to baffle temptation, a living principle
 
 MBS. BEN DARBT. 16 
 
 jf- 
 
 of faith, that gives us support when frail nature is ready to 
 yield. Oh! my brother, God never made man and sent him 
 into the world so poorly shielded, that his passions and 
 appetites can alone control him. There is a power of re 
 sistance in man, superior, in force, to that which draws him 
 on to an evil destiny, if he would yield himself to it with 
 the same pliancy with which he gives himself up to .the 
 full dominion of the tempter." 
 
 "You mean moral courage?" replied Henry Temple. 
 
 "Not altogether," replied Paulina, "but the proper esti 
 mate of the powers and endowments of the soul. It 
 never was intended by the wise Creator of the universe, 
 that humanity should suffer through the vicissitudes of life, 
 and perils of temptation alone. There is a power whose 
 universal aid is offered in the darkest hour." 
 
 "I know it, but it is so hard for man to be led by any 
 will but his own." 
 
 " Oh ! no, brother, not so very difficult, if " 
 
 "Yes, if but can you suppose, Paulina, that one who 
 has given up all, every sacred tie, every hallowed trust, 
 and plunged himself into the very depths of an abomi 
 nable evil, can ever be reclaimed?" 
 
 "Surely I do, brother." 
 
 "It is easy to speak thus, and to think thus, but oh ! the 
 trial the trial. Do you know, sister, that I have tried to 
 be a drunkard I have tried to love it." 
 
 "No, I am sure you could not, dear Harry, but never 
 try the experiment again." 
 
 " Never, sister, I have taken the pledge. No, I will 
 never break it, not if I lose all that is dear in life poor 
 little Elinor," and catching the child, he folded her to his
 
 16 MRS. BEN DARBY. 
 
 bosom, and his tears were hidden in the silken folds of her 
 
 . 
 dark hair. 
 
 Henry Temple went into the world, to contend with its 
 scoffs, its mortifications, and its fiery ordeals, alone and 
 feeble, his frame attenuated, and his constitution shattered, 
 leaving in his inner being the deep and inextricable cancer 
 that burned like a smothered volcano, devouring the very 
 vitals of his existence. 
 
 Time passed on, and the inhabitants of Wolf- Gap pur 
 sued the even tenor of their way, uninterrupted by sorrow 
 or calamity. 
 
 Little Elinor grew in grace and beauty. She was idol 
 ized by her relatives, and petted by all the friends of the 
 family. She. was gentle as the ring-dove in the valley pine, 
 and so thoughtful and pensive, that you would have thought 
 her under the influence of some secret spell that her feel 
 ings were drawn by magnetic mystery to the spirit of her 
 father. Her thoughts wore a deeper tinge than le couleur 
 du rose. She was kind and unselfish to a fault. This trait 
 procured her more friends than her beauty or gentleness. 
 
 In the village-school her superiority was acknowledged 
 by all. She ever had the best seat, and the rarest flowers 
 the prettiest birds and the brightest, berries from the hill 
 side. They called her the mountain-blossom the wild rose 
 of the hollow. The children loved to gather around her, 
 when she sat on the grass, with her black curls hanging 
 over her face, making bouquets of daisies and blue-bells, 
 and tying up love-knots with the long broom-straw. That 
 old, uncouth school-house stood down in a valley where the 
 sun shone on its quaint front all winter, and in the summer 
 the sycamores and the butternuts threw their wild shadows
 
 MRS. BEN DARBT. 17 
 
 around it like a curtain, and the fresh breezes from the hill 
 tops came laden with the perfume of the honeysuckle. 
 In the spring, the dogwood and crab -apple bloom, mingled 
 with the cedar and hemlock, gave life and beauty to the 
 rural spot. The house was composed of logs, with long 
 windows in front, which were fastened up by hooks, to ad 
 mit the air or light, as the occasion required. Although 
 rude and unadorned by the sculptor, yet it had something 
 classic in its tout ensemble. But few marvelous incidents 
 disturbed the tranquillity of those academic shades, such 
 as agitate the " city full." The most exciting and stirring 
 event that transpired, happened every other day ; yet it was 
 always novel and interesting, and never occurred without 
 producing an ungovernable commotion. This was the 
 rumbling of the mail-coach down the hill. The driver 
 would blow his horn as he turned the " Gap," on purpose 
 to exhilarate the young students, and in a moment every 
 head was popped out of the window. The master himself 
 could not forbear walking to the door, with the birch in his 
 hand, and his spectacles on his head. Very often he was 
 rewarded for his complacency by a package of newspapers 
 or Congress speeches, which were thrown to him by the 
 Jehu of the route. It always required prompt measures on 
 the part of the master to restore order and tranquillity, 
 after this usual but delightful treat. 
 
 Sometimes a peddler of fancy notions would turn in and 
 throw himself on the grass to rest and exhibit to the eager 
 crowd his little museum of new inventions, and his rare 
 and very cheap commodities. The master, after looking 
 over his lot of merchandise, would generally conclude to 
 treat himself to a neatly twisted mass of pig-tail. His
 
 18 MRS. BEN DARBY. 
 
 unsophisticated disciples wondered at his taste, and even 
 questioned his judgment, but his will being sovereign, no 
 one dared gainsay it. 
 
 The circuit-preacher would often call, as he wound his 
 solitary way over the bleak, dreary road, to hear them 
 spell, and to question them on things in general, and on 
 the Scriptures in particular. How they loved to hear him ! 
 
 " Milton Hazlewood, do you know who made you, my 
 son ?" 
 
 " Yes, s-i-r ; God." 
 
 "Who made God, Mr. Smith?" cried little Jimmy 
 Grimes. 
 
 "Jimmy, be quiet it is not your put-in you are too 
 quick on trigger ; can't you be easy ? sit down, sir." 
 
 The little fellow obeyed the mandate of his tutor, and 
 wriggled himself back to his seat, without once moving his 
 eyes from the pleasant face of the preacher, so eager was 
 he to have the mystery explained. His eyes were full of 
 inquiry and thought. How many American heroes took 
 their first lessons in just such a school-house, and how 
 fondly and truly memory has retained, through all the 
 glories and trials of human ambition and worldly greatness, 
 the loved scenes of their boyhood, and always the dear 
 old school-house, the platform of so many harmless pranks, 
 heroic adventures and daring deeds. 
 
 The "Wolf-Gap" school-house had its heroes; for when 
 some poor chap, " less lucky than the rest," vented his 
 jealousy, by pulling Elinor's hair rubbing out her sum 
 or staining hr face with poke-berries, there were a dozen to 
 show him fight. If the younger ones could not succeed in 
 chastising him, as they imagined he deserved, Theodore
 
 MRS. BEN DARBT. 19 
 
 Harper, the oldest, and the most studious of the class, 
 would unbend his mind from his Virgil, and drub him, 
 until he cried enough. 
 
 Ten years had passed since little Elinor had become an 
 inmate of her grandfather's house. During that period, 
 her father had paid her several short visits. His health 
 was still precarious, and he was still laboring under the 
 same mental depression. He had become more stern and 
 inflexible, more taciturn and studious ; he exhibited less 
 signs of suffering, but you could see that his disorder was 
 permanently settled, and beyond restoration. 
 
 He was trying, about this time, to get a divorce from his 
 wife. The why and wherefore will appear in due time.
 
 20 MRS. BEN DARBY. 
 
 apter 3. 
 
 ON the roadside, about a mile from the " Gap," stood a 
 small inn, offering humble inducements to the weary trav 
 eler and his jaded animal. The sign, which hung from a 
 top-heavy post, presented on each side, crossed keys. The 
 design was happy in its signification, but would not have 
 purchased fame for its aspiring designer, but it answered 
 the purpose for which it was intended that is not always 
 the fate of the best achievements. 
 
 The bar-room, as it was called, was a large apartment, 
 devoted to many purposes. It was the general reception 
 room for men, women, and children. The repository of 
 saddles, baggage, rifles, game-bags, fishing-tackle, reaping- 
 hooks, flax-breaks, and loom-reeds, etc. One corner was 
 ornamented with files of newspapers, and show-bills of va 
 rious descriptions, which had been brought from the county 
 court-house below. Over the chimney-piece was a large 
 representation of a circus which was going the rounds, 
 " low down" in Petersburg and Richmond wonderful ex 
 ploits ! amazing agility ! unrivaled velocity ! Between the 
 front windows hung a small looking-glass, over a yard of 
 flowered paper. A yankee clock, the likeness of Jefferson 
 and Pocahontas, ornamented the opposite side of the room. 
 
 Every hotel or domicil for the entertainment of the pub 
 lic, from the St. Nicholas and Astor, of Broadway, to the 
 log-cabin inn of the far west, has its peculiarities in form 
 of loungers. They become, in course of time, identified
 
 MRS. BEN DARBY. 21 
 
 * 
 appendages to the establishment. They differ in appearance, 
 
 as the houses they frequent. The exquisite lounger on the 
 plush sofas of the city hotels, with his fashionable moustache 
 and jockey club perfume, is represented in the indolent, 
 half-dressed youth, who thrums the cords of a cracked 
 violin, in some outlandish country tavern. They are all 
 devoted patrons of the establishment, indorse its bills of 
 fare, recommend its accommodations, and are always ready 
 to participate in the hilarity which chance might throw in 
 their way. The proprietor of the Cross-Keys was a man 
 of moderate and unimposing pretensions. The appendage 
 to his bar-room was Peter Larkins, who was always on 
 hand fond of politics, reading newspapers, and getting up 
 items he attended to everybody's business but his own ; 
 he left that for his wife to regulate the best way she could. 
 His farm was always out of order his fences forever on 
 the decline. His crop was invariably put in long after he 
 had assisted in planting those of his friends', and was sel 
 dom matured or gathered in as it should have been. Some 
 times the clairvoyant animals saved him the trouble of 
 filling his barn, by pushing over the crazy fences and help 
 ing themselves. His house was once a snug cottage ; and 
 would still have been so, if he had performed his part as 
 faithfully outside, as his thrifty wife managed the interior. 
 His orchard was exposed to the depredations of the vagrant 
 cattle and boys of the neighborhood. Peter Larkins was 
 one of the best creatures in the world to help one in a 
 pinch, but he was always in a pinch himself. He never had 
 time to do this or that, at home and things about his pre 
 mises insinuated that the master was from home. 
 
 His gate had been swinging on one hinge for more than
 
 22 MRS. BEN DARBY. 
 
 a year, and if it had been any gate but his, it would undoubt 
 edly have been down ; but Peter worked at it so carefully, 
 and so good naturedly in his outgoings and incomings, to 
 preserve its standing ; and if any one was with him, he 
 always remarked, in a palliative tone, "well, I'll fix ^ou be 
 fore a coon's age, if I live so long ;" but it was -never 
 repaired to my knowledge. The sweep of the well was 
 put in wrong, and it always remained so, for Peter never 
 had a moment to spare to remedy the evil. He was the 
 life of every gathering for miles around. He was strong 
 at a logrolling a whole hand at a corn-shucking and 
 house-raising. His jovial demeanor secured him a welcome 
 everywhere, and his merry songs and popular witticisms 
 were well received in his circle of acquaintances. Peter 
 had one fault which engendered a multitude of evils. He 
 loved his bottle yes, better than his wife, children, or 
 friends, for he would sit for whole days, sipping his mug, at 
 the " Cross-Keys," and forget that his wife had no wood, 
 and that his sick boy needed medicine, or that his unruly 
 beasts, as he called them, had gotten into his fields and 
 trampled down his blades, which were growing so thrifty. 
 
 Peter knew his failing, and boasted that he could leave 
 off whenever it suited him ; that the little he drank never 
 "faized," him, and that his wife loved him just as well 
 drunk, as sober, and swore he could refrain whenever there 
 was a " needcessity" for it. 
 
 Many have thought the same, but all alike have, at some 
 time or other, been deceived. It is easier to crush an evil 
 in the bud, than to grapple with it when it is strong enough 
 to master us. The poor heedless fly, that makes so many 
 perilous revolutions about the blaze of a candle, is very
 
 MRS. BEN DARBY. 23 
 
 * 
 sure to perish in the flame. " Touch not, taste not," should 
 
 be the motto of every one who finds a temptation in ardent 
 spirits. 
 
 It was a beautiful clear evening in the month of May. 
 The sun was just sinking behind the mountain-tops, when 
 a small carriage stopped at the door of the Cross-Keys. A 
 young man, dressed very handsomely, but bearing about 
 him indubitable marks of reckless and dissipated habits, 
 alighted, and was followed by one of less imposing appear 
 ance, wearing a white hat and green cravat. He held the 
 reins, and called loudly for the hostler. Now to tell the truth, 
 there was no such personage at the Cross-Keys. That office 
 was generally filled by any one that happened to be present. 
 The stranger became impatient (for everybody's business 
 is very sure to be nobody's), when Peter Larkins, finding 
 no person answered the call, volunteered his services, and 
 approaching the stranger, offered to hold the reins until the 
 master of ceremonies appeared. 
 
 "You are the landlord!" said the young man ; "have 
 my horse put up, and give him a plenty of grub. He is 
 the finest horse in the ' Old Dominion.' " 
 
 "Ah 1" said Peter. 
 
 " If there is a better I would like to see him, /would, 
 wouldn't you, Fairmont ?" .--.^, v 
 
 " Be blamed if I wouldn't." 
 
 "I ask pardon," says Peter; "here comes the land 
 lord," and he resigned the reins to the negro boy, who 
 came whistling after his master. 
 
 The strangers were ushered into the bar-room, and after 
 ordering supper and lodgings for .the night, declared that 
 their throats were dry as powder-horns. The bottles were
 
 24 MRS. BEN DARBT. 
 
 deposited on the table, and they helped themselves very 
 liberally. 
 
 If the reader ever traveled through the mountains of 
 Virginia before the beneficial influence of the temperance 
 cause penetrated its hills and valleys, he knows better than I 
 can tell him, the compliments that passed on that occasion, 
 and the simple curiosity displayed by those who had so few 
 opportunities of hearing or seeing what was going on in the 
 wide world. 
 
 " Traveling, strangers ?" asked Larkins, rubbing his 
 hands, and smiling complacently. 
 
 " I should think so," replied the hero of the white 
 hat. 
 
 " Well I don't see that we are at present," said the 
 younger gentleman, with a sinister shrug of his shoulders. 
 
 " No offense, Misters, I should like to know the price of 
 corn below, as may be you are from Richmond or Peters 
 burg." 
 
 " And may be not, what then ?" 
 
 " Why still, stranger, you might know the price of corn," 
 persisted Peter. 
 
 " I might, and I might not." 
 
 "I tell you what, stranger, it is very dull times here, very 
 little traveling done in these parts, and if a straggler hap 
 pens to drop among us, why, he has got to talk, that's cer 
 tain ; it's no use trying to shirk out of it, now, there aint, 
 and if you be Yankee peddlers, why there's no use to keep 
 close, for you can't do it, indeed you can't ; we'll fan you 
 out ; now, can't you tell us the price of corn ?" 
 
 Peter knew very well that they did not belong to that 
 thriving, sober, money-making race. He could see at a
 
 MRS. BEN DARBY. 25 
 
 glance, that they were wild, reckless outlaws, no matter 
 where they originated. 
 
 "Do you wish to speculate on the articles ?" asked the 
 stranger. 
 
 "I never specelate," said Peter, closing the only button 
 on his coat. If dame Fortune wants to see me, she can 
 come, if not, why, she may send her daughter and be 
 darned to her." 
 
 " Who is that ?" 
 
 " Why Miss Fortune, to be sure," and Peter walked to 
 the door. 
 
 " Stop," cried the oldest of the travelers, familiarly 
 touching him on the shoulder ; " you are a character a 
 devilish clever fellow ; I like your grit. Come, take a 
 drink to better acquaintance. My name is Simon Fairmont, 
 and yours " 
 
 " And mine is Peter Larkins, at your service ; success to 
 you, sir, whatever may be your enterprise." 
 
 "Why, you are a regular blunderbuss ; come, sit down, 
 sir, and let's have a chat, my fine fellow. Do you call 
 this a town ?" 
 
 " Some call it one thing, and some call it another. It is 
 called the Key Settlement Blunderville, and a dozen more 
 names; but you see, stranger, it is a very scarce place, and 
 considerably scattered. It could not be called a town only 
 in derision. It has no church, no court-house they be at 
 the other end of the county." 
 
 "You have a school-house, it is to be hoped." 
 
 " We did have one over by the blacksmith-shop, but it 
 fell through." 
 
 " Was any one killed ?"
 
 26 MRS. BEN DARBY. 
 
 " No sir ! the schoolmaster, I mean ; the house is there 
 still." 
 
 " What befell him ?" 
 
 "Why, you see, stranger, he come here well recom 
 mended, but after awhile he began to show his cloven foot." 
 
 " Ah ! in what respect ?" 
 
 "He turned out a regular old swigger got drunk, 
 and beat the young ones black and blue, the scamp ; so we 
 turned him off." 
 
 " You did right ; schoolmasters have no right to in 
 dulge ; it is preposterous. It is a very responsible situ 
 ation." 
 
 " Yes sir ; we sent him looming. His name was God 
 frey ; the boys used to steal his liquor, and when he found 
 it out, they laughed in his face, and said they thought 
 'Godfrey's cordial' was good for children." 
 
 " That was not slow," said the stranger, laughing. 
 
 " A man," said Peter, drawing himself up, " ought al 
 ways to know when to stop." 
 
 " Ah ! my jolly friend, there's where you mistake your 
 self. If a man wants to keep clear of the critter, he had 
 better not begin. It is easier beginning than stopping. I 
 have been ten years trying to reform, and every year I go 
 deeper and deeper, and now, sir, I live on it, but I get 
 along very happily. Have you no dry goods stores or gro 
 ceries in this benighted place ?" 
 
 " We had one store here," replied Larkins, "where they 
 kept a little of everything ; but they sold out their last 
 stock, which was a piece of red flannel, and a lot of hoe- 
 handles, and some hoes without handles, and went off to 
 try their luck in Indihanna."
 
 MRS. BEN DARBY. 27 
 
 " No lawyers?" asked the stranger. 
 
 " What do we want with such varmints here ? we have 
 no court-house ; it is at the county-seat." 
 
 " How do you settle your affairs when you go to logger 
 heads ?" 
 
 " Mighty little wool to gather in these parts, stranger ; 
 Squire Temple, to be sure, does now and then have a case. 
 As for my part, I never have any difficilties to settle. Jim 
 Roane and Sam Johnson settle theirs with their fists." 
 
 " That is the way I settle mine," said the traveler. " It 
 costs less, and is sooner done. Now tell me but stop, wet 
 your whistle first." The younger man filled the glass and 
 handed it to Peter. 
 
 "After you, sir, is manners," said Larkins, bowing pro 
 foundly ; his bright eye twinkled with delight at his good 
 luck, and the cordiality which the gentlemen seemed ready 
 to bestow upon him. His vanity was becoming supreme. 
 Peter could not see deeper than the surface. He was sim 
 ple and ingenuous himself, and such persons are rarely sus 
 picious. 
 
 His companions had arrived at the desired point, and 
 were about to broach the subject of their visit to the Key 
 settlement. 
 
 " This is fine old mountain-dew," said Fairmont. 
 
 "It is double ractified," replied Peter, smacking his 
 lips." 
 
 " You spoke just now of Squire Temple ; where does he 
 live ?" inquired Fairmont. 
 
 " About a mile up the road ; his place is called Wolf- 
 Gap." 
 
 " A horribly savage name."
 
 28 MRS. BEN DARBY. 
 
 " In early times," continued Peter, " it was famous for 
 wild varmints, but it is a nice plantation now ; the old mas 
 ter has lots of niggers, and plenty of money. He goes 
 down every year to Petersburg with his crop." 
 
 "He has a daughter?" 
 
 " Yes, sir, as fine a lady as there is in the Blue-Ridge 
 valley, and very handsome." 
 
 "How old?" 
 
 " In the neighborhood of twenty-five." 
 
 " And cords of money ?" said the young gentleman, 
 smiling sarcastically. " Does she wish to marry ?" 
 
 "I can't say," replied Peter, "she has had a power of 
 chances, and good ones at that. The women have their 
 own notions about matters and things." 
 
 " Twenty-five, and not willing to marry ! Here, take 
 the bottle and have it filled, landlord ; I must drink her 
 health ; she is a most wonderful woman. Is she the only 
 child ?" 
 
 " No, sir; he has a son married, and living in New York." 
 
 A sly look passed between the gentlemen, but it was lost 
 on Larkins, who, by this time, was getting "unco fou," 
 and had long since passed the Rubicon. 
 
 "Take another glass, Mr. Larkins; help yourself don't 
 be backward. This is the key that unlocks the treasures 
 of the soul honor, generosity and confidence. When I 
 have drank with a man, I call him friend my brother 
 and feel as if bound by an indissoluble tie. It makes us 
 freemasons in many respects. But tell me, my friend, has 
 not the Squire a grand-daughter ?" 
 
 " He has, and she has lived with him ever since she was 
 a baby." Here Peter related the circumstances mentioned
 
 MBS. BEN DABBT. 29 
 
 in a former chapter how he had surprised the family with 
 -his Christmas present. 
 
 " Where is her mother?" asked Fairmont, turning his 
 eyes toward the younger gentleman. 
 
 "I never heard anything about the mother," replied 
 Larkins. The child has been brought up by her aunt, for 
 the Squire himself is a widower. 
 
 The stranger looked around the room, and finding they 
 were alone, drew his chair closer to Peter. 
 
 "Friend Larkins I call you friend, because we have 
 touched glasses and I believe you to be a whole-souled 
 fellow I would like to enlist your services in a little affair 
 a trifling matter of my companion's here but before I let 
 you into my confidence, I must be assured that you will 
 not betray me." 
 
 " I never did the like," cried Peter, pompously. "Do I 
 look like a Judas Iscariot ?" His head was entirely mysti 
 fied by the fumes of the strong liquor he had taken, and it 
 was with great difficulty he could comprehend his com 
 panion. 
 
 " Well, Larkins, you must, in the first place, swear to 
 keep my secret, or rather the secret of my friend." 
 
 " I swear pine blank," replied Peter, striking the table, 
 "I hope the devil may roast me alive if ever I tell it. I 
 am at your ser-ser-vice by : " 
 
 " You will observe, in the first place, Mr. Larkins, that 
 this is my friend Mr. Ben Darby ; he is on a visit to little 
 Miss Temple." 
 
 "Now do tell me," said Peter, opening his eyes and mouth. 
 
 " We will take another glass, and then I will let you into 
 our designs."
 
 30 MRS. BEN DARBY. 
 
 " No harm to the Squire," said Peter, as the last pellucid 
 idea floated through his foggy brain; " I can't stand that, 
 sir no sir." 
 
 " None in the world, my man," said Mr. Ben Darby, 
 bending his serpent-like eyes full upon the countenance of 
 his new acquaintance ; " come, take another drink and I 
 will tell you what we are in for. Now, sir, we mean no 
 evil ; all I want is the Squire's little grand-daughter." 
 
 " All you want, sir, is Elinor Temple?" 
 
 " That is the idea ; she does not belong by rights to the 
 Squire." 
 
 " No she d-don't" and Peter laughed with his mouth 
 wide open. 
 
 " She is the property of another." 
 
 " She is, I be dog ed, if she ishn't," said Larkins, 
 
 trying hard to hold himself up. 
 
 " And we will not leave the place without her ; do you 
 understand it all, Mr. Larkins ?" 
 
 " I stands under it all, Mr. Larkins," said Peter, laugh 
 ing, and snapping his fingers comically at his new friend. 
 
 " We must have her," said Darby, firmly. .' 
 
 " We will have her, by thunder," cried Larkins, reeling 
 to the door ; " she will go it hang my hat." 
 
 Peter Larkins, where now is your boasted self-control, 
 that balance of mind which has so long held you above the 
 level of the brute creation ? Temptation has at last over 
 come you, has found you accessible even to ruin. The good 
 qualities which have so long lingered in your nature in de 
 spite of your habits, are about to succumb at last. You can 
 never again say that the little you drink never faizes you 
 that you can refrain when there is a needcessity for it. Let
 
 MRS. BEN DARBY. 31 
 
 temptation come in what form it may, there is a moral cou 
 rage in man sufficient to resist evil and sustain goodness ; 
 God has endowed his creatures with this living principle. 
 Some have infringed upon it until it has become feeble, and 
 some have, by perverseness, destroyed it without remedy. 
 Man has power to control his passions. God made him 
 perfect, and fashioned him after his own divinity ; he has 
 the capability to reflect and retract, and, like the diamond, 
 to resist all meaner frictions. Let no man say that he can 
 indulge in the habitual use of ardent spirits without the fear 
 of being some time or other overcome : if he even takes it 
 drop by drop, it falls deeper and deeper into his nature, 
 until it corrodes and blackens the sanctity of his heart, and 
 entirely defaces from it the impress of Deity, and man 
 becomes degraded and demonized.
 
 32 MRS. BEN DARBY. 
 
 The brand is on thy brow, 
 
 Yet I must shade the spot; 
 For who will love thee now, 
 
 If I IOTC thee not. BAKRY CORNWALL. 
 
 PETER became so intoxicated that he was totally useless 
 to his new confederates, as an instrument in the accom 
 plishment of their designs, and at a late hour of the night 
 he left his companions and undertook to find his way home. 
 Home ! what does the drunkard know about that " hal 
 lowed spot ?" that word so full of the heart's best emo 
 tions ? the cynosure of all that is glorious in man and 
 beautiful in woman ! 
 
 Peter sought the way to his house. It was not very far 
 from the Cross-Keys. It seemed, however, to our friend to 
 be lengthening as he went. He wondered again and again 
 why it had become so remote and unapproachable ; and 
 then he was completely amazed at finding the orchard 
 removed to the front of the building, and for what purpose 
 it had been done, or how it had been accomplished, were 
 both alike incomprehensible. He would stop, shut his 
 eyes, rub them and open them again to see if he was 
 deceived. No, it was no deception no optical illusion. 
 The gate, which so long patiently moved to and fro on its 
 solitary hinge, had at last become refractory and threatened 
 to pitch him over, in defiance of all his tender expostula 
 tions. The old, one-sided well-sweep, working up and
 
 MRS. BEN DARBY. 33 
 
 doAvn, like the piston-rod of a Mississippi steamer, brought 
 him to a stand. Looking around in idiotic amazement, he 
 beheld several figures arranged, as he thought, in military 
 order, in front of his corn-crib. 
 
 "Now, if it was only muster day," said he, trying in 
 vain to steady himself by the fence " if it was, I would 
 -say that was Captain Graham ; I know him by his faa-ther. 
 Halloo, Captain Graham!" 
 
 The turkey-gobbler flew down from the fence and uttered 
 a guttural salutation. 
 
 " Drunk, did you say ? Darn your eyes, I '11 learn you 
 better manners you military heathen you!" 
 
 In stooping to pick up a stone to throw at the offender, 
 he fell prostrate. His poor wife, who had been sitting xip, 
 trying hard to keep down the bitterness of her feelings by 
 singing and talking to her baby, dreading she knew not 
 what, for her husband did not often stay out so very late, 
 unless he was at a frolic : 
 
 " Oh ! Peter, dear, what is the matter ? Has it come to 
 this at last?" 
 
 " Yes, by G ! I 'm come at last why don't you let 
 
 me in?" 
 
 " Go in ; I don't prevent you." 
 
 " Open the door, then " 
 
 "It is open; see, this way. Oh! Peter, I would be 
 ashamed of myself, indeed I would, to act in this way. 
 Oh ! it is too bad." 
 
 " What 's to pay, Susan ?" 
 
 " To see you so drunk, Peter!" 
 
 " I 'm not so drunk, Mrs. Larkins !" 
 
 " Not drunk ! Oh ! dear me, Peter, how you talk !"
 
 34 MRS. BEN DARBT. 
 
 " No, Susy, dear, but I swal-lowed a cigar and am 
 devilish shick!" 
 
 His wife contrived, delicate as she was, to balance him 
 up and get him into the house but he was, for the first 
 time in his life, boisterous and unruly. It was in vain she 
 tried to soothe him with gentle and loving words he 
 became worse and worse. She then bethought her of her 
 kind neighbor's maxim "that to give a drunken man soft 
 words, was casting pearls before swine ;" so she commenced 
 scolding. The experiment proved hazardous Peter 
 became outrageous stormed and raved broke everything 
 that came in his way seized his wife by the throat and 
 nearly choked her to death. The little boy ran out and 
 cried with all his force, but it being so late in the night, no 
 one came to his assistance. Susan, at last, succeeded in 
 pushing him over on to the child's cradle, and before he 
 could recover his feet, she had made her escape, with her 
 two children. She knocked at her nearest neighbor's door. 
 
 " Come in, Susy; I know it is you, child," said Mrs. 
 Grimes ; " I heard all the fuss." 
 
 "Oh! Mrs. Grimes," said Susan, "you always said it 
 would come to this." 
 
 " Never mind, child, sit up by the fire and warm your 
 self it is very chilly you shake like you had an ager-fit" 
 
 The kind woman put the children in bed, and drawing 
 her chair closely to her distressed visitor, endeavored to 
 cheer her the best way she could. 
 
 " Mrs. Grimes," said Susan, " all my comfort is gone 
 forever ! Peter was always so good and kind, so pleasant 
 at home and abroad. Never before, when he has taken 
 too much, has he spoken a cross word to me I always
 
 MRS. BEN DARBY? 35 
 
 thought, if ever matters did come to the worst, he would 
 always be good-natured and gentle." 
 
 " Kind and gentle ! how foolish you are, child. Let me 
 tell you, liquor changes the head the heart and the eyes 
 and ears and it gives the tongue a very different wag 
 don't you know it does ? I pity you from my soul but 
 say, dear, what has lifted him so ? where has he been 
 and who has he been with ? Man's company is his 
 making or his undoing." 
 
 " Down at the Cross-Keys, and he did not come home 
 until just a while ago." 
 
 " It cannot be helped now, Susy dear, so come lie down 
 and try to rest." 
 
 " Mrs. Grimes, you are so good but how can I sleep 
 when poor Peter is at home by himself dead drunk?" 
 
 " Why, he is as happy as a lord mayor." 
 
 " But the house might take fire !" 
 
 "If it should, it wouldn't matter much if he went with 
 it good riddance to bad rubbish, say I !" 
 
 " But, Mrs. Grimes, he is my husband, and the father 
 of my children !" 
 
 " They would be better off without him and you too, 
 child, if he keeps on this way." 
 
 " Home has always been the world to me," said Mrs. 
 Larkins, weeping "it is precious seldom I ever thought 
 of going out my heart is too heavy." 
 
 " No woman feels like it, that has a drunkard tied to 
 her that is, if she has the feelings of a mother and wife." 
 
 "What hurts me the most," said Susan, "is that the 
 day should ever come that would find me afraid of my 
 husband the man I left my old father and mother for.
 
 36 MKS. BEN DARBY. 
 
 When I was first married everybody said I had done so 
 well, for everybody loved Peter Oh ! dear me, I almost 
 wish I was dead !" 
 
 " Hush, child, don't blaspheme you ought to be glad 
 you are alive ; but, Susan, it spoils folks to make too much, 
 of them. When a young man shows a disposition to make 
 himself so very popular, and so very agreeable to every 
 one going to this frolic and that he is very apt to be led 
 astray ; and I have told Larkins so a thousand times ; but 
 come, child, lay yourself down and try and sleep." 
 
 " Oh ! there 's no comfort for me, Mrs. Grimes, in this 
 wide world " 
 
 The tears fell very fast and thick on the pale cheek of the 
 innocent and wronged wife. 
 
 "No comfort no! no!" 
 
 It was long before the last heavy sigh of the unhappy 
 wife was still in slumber. Oh, sleep ! soother of the stain 
 less mourner nothing but remorse can ward thee off; pain 
 and grief are sometimes lost in thy oblivion. Sleep brings 
 back to our grasp the joys, the pleasures, and the hopes 
 lost long ago. We embrace, beneath thy canopy, the loved 
 ones of the tomb. Their smiles return like the beams of 
 morning renewed in beauty. We retrace the paths of 
 light and roses drink at the fountain of youth, and forget 
 the fetters that chain us to the rock of life. Pain, sorrow, 
 and death, are all forgotten. 
 
 Peter, for the first time in his life, had rested all night on 
 the kitchen floor, and when daylight appeared, he groped 
 his way into his wife's bed, without removing the fine white 
 quilt, or his dirty boots. The fumes of his last night's de 
 bauchery were just beginning to evaporate, when Susan
 
 MRS. BEN DARBY. 87 
 
 presented herself at the door. He laid quiet, and pretended 
 to be asleep. She busied herself about in tidying up the 
 room and getting breakfast. At length, when all was 
 ready, she returned to call him up to breakfast. 
 
 " Is the sun up, Susy dear?" 
 
 "Long ago." 
 
 " He must be in a hurry, for I ain't been long down." 
 
 " Mrs. Grimes has had prayers long ago." 
 
 " You don't say so ?" 
 
 "And John has gone to mill." 
 
 " It is time for me to resuscitate, I suppose," said Peter, 
 trying to get up. 
 
 " It will not be much trouble to get ready for breakfast, 
 for I see you have your hat and boots on all you have to 
 do is to walk to it." 
 
 " All ! yes, I guess it is all and I am devilish stiff 
 couldn't you make the table come up this way ? now, do 
 try, Susy." 
 
 " Susan Larkins !" cried Mrs. Grimes, thrusting her 
 head through the window, " come to your young ones, and 
 leave that drunken brute. Let him take care of himself. 
 I would let him see if I would notice him after his hateful 
 prank I would be for making as much fuss over him as 
 if he was just elected clerk of the court, the mean sneak 
 Susy, I am ashamed of you " 
 
 While Mrs. Larkins was gone for her children, Peter 
 hurried over to the Cross-Keys. He had not been long in 
 the bar-room before his new acquaintances made their ap 
 pearance in high spirits. 
 
 "Well, Mr. Larkins," said Mr. Fairmont, grasping him 
 familiarly by the hand, " I think we will try and see how
 
 38 MRS. BEN DARBY. 
 
 the land lies, to-day. You say it is just a mile to Mr. 
 Temple's ?" 
 
 " Yes, sir, good measure not to say anything of the 
 clover-field that we turn, when we strike the barn." 
 
 " I don't mean to strike a thing," replied Fairmont, 
 " unless it comes in my way." 
 
 " The barn will be certain to do that," replied Peter, 
 " it always serves me so ; but, say, stranger, what was 
 you telling last night, about a child that belonged to the 
 gentleman with the whiskers you really don't mean to say 
 that it is little Elinor Temple that you are after ?" 
 
 " The same, sir ; but come, let 's take some bitters this 
 morning, Mr. Larkins, it will refresh your memory. You 
 are in for it, sir no backing out." 
 
 " That child, Mr. Fairmont excuse me, sir, I would as 
 soon promise to sell my wife to a nigger buyer, as to touch 
 that child why, it would not be according to nature to do 
 it. Why, sir, she is " 
 
 " It matters not what she is," said Darby, " she is mine, 
 and I intend to have her. I only want you to show us the 
 way. I see that Fairmont is getting too drunk to be of 
 much service. He is getting into one of his big sprees " 
 
 "Explain, if you please," said Larkins, addressing Fair 
 mont. 
 
 "Sir, you are too drunk to comprehend matters," said 
 Darby, proudly, "even if Fairmont was able to explain, 
 which I am sorry to say is not the case. When he sets in, 
 there is no knowing when or where he ends ; he goes the 
 whole hog." 
 
 " Mr. Darby sir," replied Peter, drawing himself up, 
 " being as you have not drank any, and being as you were
 
 MRS. BEN DARBY. 30 
 
 born since Solomon, and had the benefit of a college edifica 
 tion, perhaps you could find words to explain some faint 
 idee of what's in the wind ; for I'll eat fire, if it is not all 
 lignum vitee to me now it is." 
 
 " We want you to meet us here this evening, and conduct 
 us to 'Squire Temple's. Fairmont will reconnoiter about 
 the ' Gap,' so that he can see the child when she returns 
 from school. In this way there will be no mistake. A 
 blunder in this matter would be embarrassing." 
 
 " I'll wash my hands of the whole matter as far as I'm 
 concerned," cried Peter, who was beginning to feel very 
 magnanimous. " I'd sooner run my head into a hollow 
 gum full of bee,s, than to harm anybody, 'specially a man 
 like the ' 'Squire ;' the truest friend a man ever had, and 
 as to stealing that child, why, cut my head off, if I wouldn't 
 as lief commit susansides /" 
 
 " Mr. Larkins ! Mr. Larkins ! you forget your promise 
 your oath." 
 
 " Oh, you needn't be Mr. Larkinsing me, for when I put 
 my foot down, it's thar it is," and Peter looked Mount 
 Atlas at him. 
 
 " I promise you, harm shall come to no one we only 
 want the child." 
 
 " Only the child!" repeated he, "they'd rather lose 
 everything else." 
 
 " And you refuse to help us ?" 
 
 "I do." 
 
 " You spoke very differently last night," chimed in Fair 
 mont, who was again so drunk he could scarcely see 
 
 "You are a d pretty bird ; come, take a little of this, 
 
 my fellow, and y-your head will be d-d clear so it
 
 40 MRS. BEN DARBI. 
 
 will. This is the best liquor in the world n-none of your 
 d-d poke-juice." 
 
 Peter took a long, deep draught wiped his mouth on 
 his coat-sleeve, and stood looking quizzically at the bestial 
 countenance of his companion. Both were drunk, and 
 neither had the full exercise of his reason ; yet there was a 
 strong contrast. Poor Peter, with all his ignorance, all his 
 child-like simplicity, still retained in his nature, principles 
 of honor, and virtue had not been entirely destroyed there 
 were roots enough left to germinate. The milk of human 
 kindness still flowed through his veins. His companion had 
 battled longer with the arch-fiend ; every manly quality had 
 long since been shattered. He had commenced in very 
 early youth his reckless course, and lost, by degrees, all the 
 precious gifts of the soul. The fiery fluid had seared every 
 bud of promise, and not one solitary principle of rationality 
 came to perfection. The poison had penetrated every cell 
 of the heart mixed itself with every growing fiber, and 
 every impetus of feeling, until the whole system felt its dele 
 terious influence. 
 
 Young Darby was still another variety of the inebriate. 
 His surface was fair. You would not dare to place him 
 among drunkards if you consulted his outward appearance. 
 You would certainly be disposed to consider him as a man, 
 if not a very prepossessing one. I compare him to the Sol way 
 moss the exterior is smooth, quiet, and green fresh, 
 sometimes bright, but all beneath is a troubled mass of 
 putrid fibers of heath, which shakes at every pressure, and 
 often pours forth its turbid fluid to the destruction of all 
 surrounding objects. 
 
 Mr. Darby could drink more than either of his com-
 
 MRS. BEN DARBY. 41 
 
 panions, yet he was never called an inebriate. He was always 
 capable of attending to his own affairs, and also the con 
 cerns of others. He was hypocritical and insidious very 
 kandsome, and decidedly a man of the world. 
 
 Peter Larkins laid drunk about the benches of the village 
 tavern all day too drunk to be sensible of the position he 
 occupied. Late in the evening, his mind seemed to receive 
 a sudden impulse. He left the house precipitately, and was 
 seen making his way toward "Wolf-Gap." 
 4
 
 42 MBS. BEN DARBY. 
 
 Chapter 5. 
 
 "The wanderer's eye could barely Yiew 
 
 The summer heaven's delicious blue, 
 ^ So wondrous wild, the whole might seem 
 The scenery of a fairy dream." 
 
 IT was near the middle of the month of May. The little 
 pale pink and blue blossoms were just beginning to peep out 
 from under the rubbish of winter. All along the sunny 
 side of the precipitous rocks, the green vines were creeping 
 out from the crevices, and twining with the dogwood and 
 laurel. The cedars and hemlocks were casting off the hues 
 of the last season and putting on livelier attire. The wild 
 bee was in the butternut blossom, and the gay birds were 
 singing merrily in the boughs of the wide-spread chestnut- 
 tree, as if the cares and privations of winter were all for 
 gotten. Who does not love a clear sky and a bright spring- 
 day ? Who does not love to wander abroad among God's 
 works, and contemplate his power in the formation of the 
 simplest flower or humblest plant ? Who has not paused 
 to examine its colors, blending so mysteriously together the 
 fashion of its leaves, interposing so harmoniously, and the 
 upturned cup that catches the dew-drop which sustains it ? 
 Who has not thought, as he looked into the deep, blue 
 bosom of the lowly violet, " he who formed thee is all- 
 powerful ; though thou art but a speck, none but the Om 
 nipresent could have called thee forth ! Thou alone whis- 
 perest to us that there is a God, and that God is immac 
 ulate and adorable."
 
 MRS. BEN DARBY. 43 
 
 I will tell you, reader, who never stops to view the glo 
 rious outpouring of nature's joy who never meditates in 
 solitude on the arcana of Nature, or on the wise adminis 
 tration of the great Ruler of the world breaking forth 
 in ejaculations of wonder, love, and praise to Him who 
 has formed him in his image. Come with me, reader, and 
 I will show you one who never dreams of such things, and 
 if he does, it is in the fleeting memories of his youth, one 
 who never discriminates between a blossom and a worm, 
 one who never looks from " nature up to nature's God," 
 but moves along through the world with eyes cast down he 
 never gazes with delight upon the full, bright moon, or hails 
 Aurora as she rides out from the golden portals of the east, 
 spreading light and glory from hemisphere to hemisphere. 
 
 Here he lies by the side of a still little brook, that winds 
 its way through the meadow. He rests upon a soft velvet 
 bank. His head presses a mossy pillow. The sunbeams 
 are dancing on the shelving rock above him. The wild 
 blossoms are wooing the amorous breeze. The mountain- 
 rose opens its bosom to the honey-bee. Beauty is all 
 around fresh, unspotted beauty. The robins are sporting 
 over his head. The squirrels are peeping out from the 
 hollow ash. All is joy about him, but here he lies like a 
 worried dog. 
 
 This, reader, is the habitual drunkard; he is scarcely 
 ever sober. He lies here, with his leaden eyes, dreamingly 
 peering forth from their fiery orbits. The rheum from their 
 corners stands still on his full, black lashes like cold cream, 
 and the saliva running in small rivulets from his half-opened 
 mouth. His countenance has that half-brute, half-human 
 composure of features which gives the face an idiotic ex-
 
 44 MRS. BEN DARBY. 
 
 pression the undisputed endowment of intoxication. He 
 has not chosen this little ravine because he loves the sylvan 
 shades; no, he lies there, in the first place, because when 
 he fell down he could not get up again just then ; and in 
 the second place, he is waiting like a wolf that is watching 
 for a lamb. 
 
 He likes his soft resting-place much better than he some 
 times does his city stopping-places, where there are so many 
 rude persons passing. It may be sweeter than the kennel, 
 but he does not know the difference. 
 
 This personage is Mr. Fairmont; he has been in the 
 neighborhood of the Gap for two or three days. He has 
 undertaken a daring outrage, but he is too drunk to carry 
 it into execution. He has been trying to sober down long 
 enough to accomplish his ends, but he can't, for his life, re 
 frain or curb his appetite for the fatal act. 
 
 While he is thus luxuriously reclining on his mother 
 earth, the wild laughter of the school children came up 
 from the creek bottom, mingling with the noisy fluttering 
 of the geese, which the heedless urchins had frightened 
 from the water, in their merriment and glee. Oh ! such a 
 rush of living, glowing joy. The clear, sweet tones of 
 childhood, laughing, screaming, whistling, singing, and the 
 winged creatures making chorus in the highest key even 
 the dogs could not resist the burst of animal spirits, but 
 
 " For joy hae bark it wi' them." 
 
 The children all turned off from the woods, into the 
 most thickly settled part of the valley ; but two came 
 down the pathway leading to the Gap. One was a fine- 
 looking boy, about fifteen or sixteen, very manly and
 
 MRS. BEN DARBY. 46 
 
 heroic -looting, though clad in homespun, and "wearing a 
 hat of braided rye-straw. His clear gray eyes, his broad, 
 full brow, and the finely formed lips were the index of his 
 character. Firm, frank, courageous, generous even to a 
 fault. He lived on Mr. Temple's plantation, and his duty 
 and his pleasure never chimed so pleasantly together, as 
 when he was escorting Elinor to and from school. She 
 was running along by his side, her little calico bonnet 
 dangling in one hand, and her basket, in the other. Some 
 times she would set her things down, to pluck the little 
 flowers that peeped at her from the hill-side, or to chase a 
 rabbit, that had started so close from her feet, that it 
 seemed like magic. They had almost run upon Mr. Fair 
 mont before they saw him. Surprised and astonished, 
 they stopped short, and the girl caught the hand of the 
 lad, looked slyly up into his face, to see if all was right 
 there full of confidence in her protector (as woman should 
 be always), she calmly awaited the result. 
 
 " Dang my b-buttons, here you are at last." 
 
 " What are you doing here ?" cried the boy, giving him 
 a hunch in the short ribs with his foot, " get up, it is 
 almost night the pigeons are going to roost." 
 
 " Time to be going, hey ? well, you needn't be telling 
 me so ; d-don't I know it d-don't I feel it is time. I say, 
 s-stop, don't leave a body." 
 
 "Oh ! we must, the geese are going home." 
 
 " Let them go, and be d-darned. This is a dev'lish 
 cool place here you see I'm cooling off, /am I" 
 
 " I hope you will," said the boy. 
 
 "Now, see if I don't. Say, is that Squire Temple's 
 grand-daughter ?"
 
 46 MBS. BEN DAEBT. 
 
 "What is it to you, who she is," said Theodore poor 
 Elinor clung to her protector, and began to tremble in 
 every limb; "I'll tell you the next time I see you." 
 
 "Stop now, d-don't run, wait for company down that 
 d-deep hollow." 
 
 " I never wait for any but good company come Elinor, 
 you see we must walk fast you can't walk, sir, one of your 
 legs is shorter than the other see now, you can't move it. 
 Oh ! yes, I see how up again, there, that's a man." 
 
 " Do come, Theodore," said Elinor, pulling his arm. 
 
 " There, he is up once more," cried the boy, " there, 
 he is down again no, not quite easy, easy." 
 
 "What is the matter? What is he doing?" asked 
 Elinor. 
 
 "He is trying his equilibrium, as our master used to 
 say." 
 
 " See, Theodore, he is almost up with us ; are you not 
 afraid of him ?" 
 
 " Afraid of a drunkard ?" 
 
 " Why not ?" 
 
 " Poor, pitiful wretch, see how well he is dressed, too, 
 a nice watch-chain with a big seal to it, just like Mr. Jef 
 ferson used to wear it is as big as my thumb." 
 
 " I wonder who he is," said Elinor. 
 
 "Say, stranger," cried Theodore, "what's your name?" 
 
 " None of your business." 
 
 " That's a queer name, I don't know any one in these 
 parts so called where do you live?" 
 
 In h 11 !" 
 
 "'That's just what I thought, so good-bye we don't go 
 that way."
 
 MRS. BEN DARBY. 47 
 
 "Oh! Theodore, he is coining on see how he 
 runs !" 
 
 " Hold your tongue, you mountain loon," said the stran 
 ger, staggering close up to/ 'the children, " do you want 
 your lights knocked out ?"' 
 
 " If I did, you are not the man to do it you old rum- 
 jug, you." 
 
 The words were scarcely out of his mouth, before he 
 was jostled from the path hy the intruder, who darted to 
 Elinor, crying; " I want you you are the one." The boy 
 caught her in his arms, and dashed down the lane as fast 
 as he could go. 
 
 When they lost sight of him, they sat down to breathe. 
 
 "Elinor, you never saw a drunkard before ?" 
 
 "Oh yes! I've seen Peter Larkins drunk." 
 
 " Yes, but he is always good-natured." 
 
 " Theodore, what makes people get drunk ?" 
 
 " I suppose they love to I don't know." 
 
 " Do they feel happy when they are stumbling about 
 so?" 
 
 "Well I can't say Elinor I don't know but if you 
 wish it, I will get drunk and tell you how it operates." 
 
 " Oh, no ! Theodore, please don't Oh ! I could not 
 look at you. I think if anybody could see how they look, 
 and how they act, they would never get drunk." 
 
 "Yes, but they always think they are carrying it on 
 secretly ; they never think, when drunk, that other people 
 know it." 
 
 " Poor fellow, only see how he holds to the fence." 
 
 " Don't pity him, Elinor, he does not deserve it." 
 
 " Oh, yes, he does."
 
 48 MRS. BEN DARBT. 
 
 "Why? I should like to know." 
 
 " Because he has to die." 
 
 " Well, we all have to die." 
 
 "Yes, but we keep our reason, and can think and pray." 
 
 " Well ! a man, that is if he is a man, can keep from 
 drinking ; that's my doctrine." 
 
 " Don't dream, to night, that he is running off to the 
 Hunter's Cave with you, Elinor !" 
 
 "If I do, I will also dream that you are there, Theo 
 dore, to rescue me." 
 
 They parted at the gate; Elinor related the adventure of 
 the evening, to her friends at supper. They laughed at 
 her for being alarmed. It was thought of no more, until 
 recalled to mind with many a bitter and agonizing re 
 flection.
 
 MRS. BEN DARBT. 49 
 
 r 6. 
 
 " It is the moon, I ken her horn, 
 
 That's blinkin' In the lift sae He, 
 She shines sae bright to wyle us hamo, 
 
 But by my troth, she'll wait a wee." 
 
 THE evening had closed in very pleasantly, and after an 
 early supper, Miss Temple and her little niece walked down 
 to the quarter where one of the old family servants was 
 confined with the rheumatism. 
 
 There is an inexplicable tie between the children of the 
 family and the slaves. It is felt and cherished with ardor 
 on both sides. Elinor loved to gaze upon the ebony face of 
 Sylvia, and would throw her arms around her neck, and 
 lay her soft cheek upon her bosom. 
 
 " Come, Elinor," said Miss Temple, "it is getting 
 dark." 
 
 " Yes, and if that horrible looking man should be hid in 
 the orchard !" 
 
 "We should hardly be afraid of a drunken man, my 
 dear ; you and I would show him how the Amherst girls 
 could run." 
 
 " Good night, ' mammy' Sylvia." 
 
 " God bless you, my darling." 
 
 Miss Temple hurried on very rapidly. The shadows lay 
 thick among the apple trees. There was just enough light 
 from the young moon to make objects visible to the eye, 
 but not enough to identify them. 
 
 " Hurry, love, we have staid too late." Elinor grasped 
 5
 
 50 MRS. BEN DARBY. 
 
 her aunt's hand and chatted merrily, as she looked ahead 
 at the bright light in the parlor window ; all at once she 
 stopped short in her path. 
 
 " What's the matter, dear ?" 
 
 " I do believe there he is now," whispered the child 
 
 " Who, love ?" 
 
 " Why, the man that frightened us ; look, he stands right 
 there by the beehive don't you see him ?" 
 
 "Don't be foolish, dear," said Miss Temple, moving on 
 as fast as she could, " what would he want with us?" 
 
 " May be he is a negro dealer, and wants to steal some 
 body." 
 
 " Oh you silly child !" 
 
 "Well, he is ugly enough to do it." 
 
 " The devil he is !" cried a man springing from behind a 
 tree, and seizing the child around the waist, he bore her 
 away. It was but the work of a moment, and before Miss 
 Temple could move or scream, the dear little one was heard 
 faintly crying as at a distance. Then the agonizing screams 
 of Miss Temple were heard from one end of the plantation 
 to the other. The servants rushed from every cabin door 
 even old Sylvia, who had not been able to get about for 
 months. The report of a pistol added to the consternation, 
 and when Miss Temple rushed into the house, she beheld a 
 heart-rending scene. Near the parlor lay a fine young ne 
 gro, weltering in blood, and her father, with his mouth 
 gagged, sat in his arm-chair, his hands tied behind him 
 with a strong cord. So soon as Mr. Temple was relieved 
 from his dreadful situation, his servants and near neighbors 
 were dispatched in every direction some in pursuit of the 
 kidnappers, and others for the county officers.
 
 MRS. BEN DARBY. 51 
 
 In giving the premises a thorough searching, Peter 
 Larkins was found concealed in the entry, and a pistol lying 
 not very far from him. The young man was very badly 
 wounded, and the doctor thought it was very doubtful 
 whether he would recover or not. Peter Larkins had been 
 seen gossiping and drinking with the strangers at the inn, 
 and had, by not revealing what their designs were, laid 
 himself open to suspicion. Some were brought in for wit 
 nesses, who had even heard parts of the conversation 
 which had taken place between him and his new acquaint 
 ances. It was proved, too, that he had been drunk for 
 three days, and that his conduct had been outrageous at 
 home. His wife was compelled to seek protection from the 
 neighbors. Mrs. Grimes could testify to this, which she 
 did in the following manner : " Well 'Squire, I think it 
 was Tuesday night yes, I know it was, for John Grimes 
 always goes down to town on Tuesdays. Well, I had been 
 pretty busy all day, and sot up quite late. I had just Jciv- 
 ered up the fire, and was going to bed, when I thought of 
 some candles that I had sot out in the moulds to cool. So 
 I went out to get them, when I heard a terrible furs over at 
 Larkins'; so I goes in and wakes up Grimes. ' John,' says 
 I, ' get up, I believe in my heart that Peter Larkins has 
 come home drunk, and is acting badly; I hear his wife cry 
 ing.' ' What do you want me to do ?' ' Why, go and quiet 
 him.' Says he, 'It is none of my business ; a man has a 
 right to get drunk if he wants to.' ' And more the pity,' 
 says I ; ' it's a pity there's not a law for it, if a man can't 
 act the man some one ought to make him.' While we 
 was arguing, the point, I heard some one pulling the latch 
 of the door ; so I went to open it, and who should it be
 
 52 MRS. BEN DABBY. 
 
 but poor Susy, half-dressed, with her baby wrapped up in 
 her shawl, and poor little Dick grumbling and crying behind 
 her. Poor critter, it was enough to melt the heart of a 
 stone jist, to see her and then to think of her pitying him 
 but that's jist the way with women, they are such fools 
 about their drunken brutes of husbands. Now I tell you, 
 it would not do for John Grimes to come home in such a 
 condition that he did not know which end was up ! I tell 
 you he would rue it but once, and that would be all his 
 life." 
 
 Poor Peter, what could he say ? He protested his inno 
 cence none but the 'Squire believed him. 
 
 "But you were with those men, Peter?" asked the 'Squire. 
 
 "I was, 'Squire, and more's the pity." 
 
 " And you knew their designs ?" 
 
 "I did, 'Squire." 
 
 " Then why did you not inform me ; have I not always 
 been your friend, and what harm has my poor little dar 
 ling ever done you ?" 
 
 " Oh ! don't, sir, if you please, talk about her. I can't 
 stand it, indeed I can't," and the tears streamed down his 
 face. 
 
 " If you knew these men, and knew their designs against 
 the child, why did you not I ask again, why did you not 
 warn me ?" 
 
 "Why, 'Squire, just to tell the truth before God and man, 
 I did know it all, but I was so drunk that I did not know I 
 knew it, and I come up on purpose to defeat them." 
 
 "Well, Peter," says Mrs. Grimes, "I hope you have 
 found out at last that the little you drink does -faize you ; 
 now don't brag any more."
 
 MRS. BEN DARBY. 53 
 
 " That's enough, Mrs. Grimes." 
 
 " I want you to have- enough." 
 
 Peter would have had time to get sober and to reflect on 
 his errors before the next session of court, if he had not 
 contrived to make his escape. 
 
 Old Mrs. Grimes took good care of his wife and children, 
 and no news was heard from him for many a long day. 
 Susan, so loving, so innocent, and so trustworthy, wept 
 alone and in silence over her misfortunes. It mattered not 
 where Peter was, her affections, and her hopes of happiness 
 were with him. 
 
 Is it not strange that the good and wise love so unfalter 
 ingly the erring and the depraved ? such is true love, and 
 such is woman's love. 
 
 It is useless to linger at Wolf- Gap in confusion and per 
 turbation, to listen to the voice of grief and sorrow, every 
 moment awaiting the terminus to suspense and conjecture. 
 From fresh mountain scenes and dewy paths from simple 
 country life and unsophisticated hearts, gentle reader, we 
 will visit the recherche, apartments of the heartless and fash 
 ionable beauty.
 
 54 MRS. BEN DAKBY. 
 
 r 7. 
 
 Good name in man and woman, dear my lord, 
 Is the immediate jewel of their souls. OTKELLO. 
 
 "CLOSE the door softly, Hannah," said a lady who was 
 reclining on a sofa, in all the luxurious indolence of a 
 
 O 
 
 fashionable woman ; " I have a violent headache, this morn 
 ing. I am very feeble I wish I knew what produces this 
 abominable feeling." 
 
 "Perhaps it was going to the theater last night?" said 
 Hannah. 
 
 " Then I should have it frequently." 
 
 " But it was very chilly, last evening ; I trembled like an 
 aspen leaf all the time I was at the Tabernacle." 
 
 "What was you doing there, child?" 
 
 " I was listening to a temperance lecture." 
 
 "A what?" 
 
 "A temperance lecture, ma'am." 
 
 " This world is getting very wise ; who was your orator, 
 Hannah ?" 
 
 " I didn't hear his name, but he knows how to talk, and 
 has a powerful voice." 
 
 " You foolish thing, to waste your time in listening to 
 such nonsense. How could it benefit you?" 
 
 " Oh ! ma'am, every one ought to be interested and 
 benefited by hearing the truth." 
 
 " Take my word for it, child, there was not one word of
 
 MRS. BEN DARBY. 65 
 
 truth in the whole discourse. Come, do up my hair in the 
 most becoming manner. Braid it behind in three braids, 
 and curl it in front. Let 's see yes, in five curls on 
 each side. I have a very uncomfortable headache, this 
 morning !" 
 
 A sinister smile curled the lips of the attendant, as she 
 untied the full, dark tresses of her mistress, and laid them, 
 one by one, on each shoulder. 
 
 "So your man of sober habits made a great impres 
 sion?" 
 
 "I did not say so, ma'am; I said everybody ought to 
 have been benefited." 
 
 " Depend upon it, Hannah, it was all humbug." 
 
 " But I know better, asking your pardon, ma'am, for 
 gainsaying your word," and she gave the dark mass of hair 
 a prodigious twitch. 
 
 " How do you know? How could you know ? There! 
 I declare, you will leave me as bald as an eagle ; you are 
 very heedless." 
 
 "How do I know?" cried the girl, the blood rushing to 
 her face, and her lips quivering with emotion; "if I could 
 not feel it and know it, who could ? I should like to know 
 who could?" 
 
 "Why, dear bless me, Hannah, how violent you are!" 
 
 " Yes, ma'am, and you would be violent too, if you were 
 in my place. Oh ! ma'am, if you could follow me to my 
 dreary, loathsome, desolate-looking home, of Saturday 
 nights, and witness what I do, you would not wonder if I 
 was violent. If you would take a look and see my broth 
 ers and sisters, benumbed with cold, their naked bosoms 
 exposed to the winter wind and to the summer sun, with
 
 56 MRS. BEN DARBY. 
 
 * 
 
 feet blistered by frost to see their beautiful hair all matted 
 with filth and vermin their faces begrimed with phlegm 
 and dirt, and their poor, little, meager features distorted by 
 hunger and pain. My poor, deluded mother, singing her 
 hellish songs, like a maniac, lying on an old mildewed bed 
 with her wailing skeleton of a baby hugged up to her 
 withered, dried-up breast the little dying angel tugging to 
 extract a drop to cool its parched tongue one 'drop of that 
 nourishment which the brute mother never refuses its 
 young. I should like to know if that is not entering into 
 the merits of the case?" 
 
 " Your father, Hannah, what is he about all this time?" 
 
 " What is he about?" replied Hannah, giving her mis 
 tress another nervous grip; "I'll tell you what he is 
 about stumbling home with a loaf of bread under one arm 
 and a black jug in the other hand his eyes bunged up 
 with blood and dust; his face disfigured with coal black; 
 his clothes covered with the nauseous mixture of the gutter- 
 filth I should not know him if it were not for that eternal 
 jug, that accursed jug. Oh ! ma'am, why should I not 
 know? But this is not all !" 
 
 "It is enough in all conscience, child: mercy! mercy! 
 I declare, you are getting furious!" 
 
 " You would be furious too, ma'am, if you were in my 
 place, but you don't know, indeed you don't how could 
 you? sitting here on the fashionable side of Broadway, in 
 your beautiful room, with curtains of gold and damask 
 with your piano and guitar your nice toilet your books 
 and engravings treading on a velvet carpet lying on a 
 soft, warm sofa, with a bright fire that sends comfort and 
 joy to every part of the room but above all, your nice
 
 MKS. BEN DARBY. 57 
 
 lunch, coining up on a silver tray, with ice-water and 
 champagne. Then you dress and wrap up in your furs 
 and go abroad to see and be seen. Ah ! ma'am, it is very 
 little you know of misery." 
 
 "Easy, Hannah, easy, for heaven's sake, be careful!" 
 
 " I tell you, ma'am, it is bad enough to have a drunken 
 father a beast of a father but it is nothing in comparison 
 with a drunken mother!" 
 
 The lady's face flushed crimson, and she moved ner 
 vously in her seat. 
 
 " Only to think," continued the girl, as she twisted the 
 long dark curls around her finger; " that I have a thousand 
 times wished that I had never been born, or that my mother 
 had strangled me when I was an infant !" 
 
 " Oh ! you wicked creature!" cried Mrs. Temple, trying 
 to laugh. 
 
 "No, ma'am, it is not wicked it would have been 
 kinder in her, and she would have only murdered me at 
 once, instead of by piecemeal. Who can love a mother 
 who prefers the bottle to her children her honor all that 
 is sacred to womanhood ?" 
 
 " There, child, that will do. Turn the glass round my 
 huir curls beautifully to-day it always does when the air 
 is humid. Stop, you must not give another pull I can't 
 stand it. Did your mother always drink?" 
 
 "Always drink?" replied the girl; "no, ma'am I can 
 remember when my mother was a gentle, lady-like woman, 
 as much so as yourself, ma'am, only she was poor, always 
 poor, ma'am." 
 
 " What tempted her to become so fond of her cups ?" 
 asked Mrs. Temple.
 
 58 MRS. BEN DARBY. 
 
 " Who tempts everybody, ma'am ? Who tempted Eve ? 
 The same one, the devil, ma'am." 
 
 " How was she led to it ?" asked the lady, as if irresis 
 tibly forced to hear truths which she had seldom heard, 
 and which she hardly dared to hear. 
 
 "Why you see, ma'am, it was a very sickly season my 
 father took the cholera, and was very near dying; however, 
 he recovered, but very slowly, and was very much re 
 duced. The doctor advised him to take a little brandy 
 every day before his meals, to strengthen his system. He 
 commenced by taking a little with peppermint sometimes 
 with ginger, then toddy, with sugar and nutmeg, before 
 dinner. He then went on from one thing to another, until 
 he became a perfect sot; that's the degrees of most drunk 
 ards. The same way with my poor mother she begged, 
 she entreated my poor father to refrain, to pause before it 
 got too late, but he only drank the oftener. It was im 
 possible to make him reasonable. After a while he got to 
 staying out at nights, and became quite worthless, so that 
 
 / O O i. 
 
 my poor mother's heart was entirely broken ; and instead 
 of seeking comfort in her Bible, and her God, and her 
 ever-blessed Redeemer, she went to the old black bottle. 
 You see, madam, when her eyes were swollen, and she 
 looked hurried and flurried, like you do sometimes, I 
 thought it was grief for my father's doings, but not a bit 
 of it ! she had lost all consciousness of right and wrong 
 she had sold her soul, and for what ?" 
 
 The lady looked very earnestly in the girl's face, who 
 was standing directly in front of her, with arms a-kimbo, 
 and the tears falling slowly from her eyes. 
 
 " Yes, yes," continued Hannah, " she became a rum-
 
 MRS. BEN DARBY. 69 
 
 drinker ; she first took violent headaches, especially in the 
 morning, just such as you have ma'am, only " 
 
 " Only what !" cried the lady, trembling in every limb. 
 
 " It is champagne gives it to you, as hers was caused 
 by diluted, sour rum." 
 
 The lady's face quivered with suppressed emotion ; turn 
 ing the things carelessly over on the dressing-table, she 
 tried to say carelessly, " Why champagne never disagrees 
 with one." 
 
 " Yes ma'am, the gentleman that lectured last night 
 said, that the upper-crust, who drank champagne, would 
 never give it up that it would make folks boozy ; that 
 rum, whisky, ale, and beer, got all the credit of turning 
 people topsy-turvy." 
 
 " Foreigners must, and will drink," said Mrs. Temple. 
 " Your mother, child, I suppose, was from the Emerald 
 Isle." 
 
 "No ma'am," said Hannah, drawing herself up with 
 supreme dignity, " my mother is a native American she 
 was born in a land of peace and plenty more is the 
 shame to her." 
 
 "Well, Hannah, I have had temperance enough for one 
 day, I will finish dressing, but first bring me a pitcher of 
 ice water." 
 
 While Hannah was procuring the ice water, Mrs. Temple 
 stepped into her dressing closet, and drawing forth a very 
 beautiful flask of precious china, with a silver stopper, 
 poured out a wine-glass of clear amber liquor and drank 
 it down with great precipitation, and quickly returned to 
 the dressing-table, ready to receive the ice water, when 
 Hannah returned to the room.
 
 60 MRS. BEN DARBY. 
 
 " I expect a charming visitor, this evening," said Mrs. 
 Temple, as Hannah placed the water on the table, "my 
 own sweet little daughter, whom I have not seen for nearly 
 eight years." 
 
 "0 ! ma'am, you will be very happy I am sure." 
 
 "Not so very it takes a great deal to make some 
 people happy. I suppose I am one of that class." 
 
 " Oh ! ma'am, you ought to be happy." 
 
 " Ought to be ? How do you know what I ought to 
 be ?" and her voice thickening almost to a lisp, and the 
 saliva oozing from the corners of her mouth; "I forget my 
 self sometimes, when talking to you, and if it was not 
 vulgar to use proverbs, I would tell you one, but I can't 
 
 just get hold of it ' Too much familiarity ' Oh.! hang 
 
 it" 
 
 " I beg pardon, ma'am," said Hannah, as the lady was 
 vainly endeavoring to fasten her bracelet, "but everybody 
 can be happy in some way or other ; God never made man 
 or woman, without giving them a chance to be happy, and 
 I know he has showered blessings upon you as thick as May- 
 blossoms. You have no right to be anything but happy." 
 
 "You have a right, I suppose, to be insolent!" cried 
 Mrs. Temple, turning fiercely toward the girl, who stood 
 holding her bracelet and collar. 
 
 "I have a right to speak the truth," said Hannah, in a 
 firm, democratic way. 
 
 "I'll let you know I am know I'll let you shee I can 
 do as Iplecw/te," said the lady, almost choking with pas 
 sion, "do you hear me, shay, do you hear me?" 
 
 "I should be as deaf as a door-nail if I didn't," said 
 Hannah.
 
 MRS. BEN DAEBT. 61 
 
 " I shay, I have a right to do just as I pleashe; I dare 
 you to shay otherwise will you not speak s-shay?" 
 
 " I will not say another word ma'am I am sorry I said 
 so much. You have spoiled me by talking so much to 
 me. I do not wish to forget my place." 
 
 " You forgot your place, when you shaid I got d- 
 drunk." 
 
 " Indeed, I did not say so." 
 
 "What did y you shay?" 
 
 " I said the champagne disagreed with you." 
 
 " But you meant as much." 
 
 " Dear me, ma'am, how could it enter my heart, that a 
 rich lady like you one of the upper-crust too that has 
 every comfort in life, should fall so low?" 
 
 " You did s-shay it you did mean it !" interrupted the 
 lady, in a hurried and passionate tone, "you know you 
 did you low creature you." 
 
 " I did not ma'am, say so," said Hannah, deliberately 
 laying down the collar and bracelet, which she had been- 
 holding so long, but saw so little prospect of disposing of 
 them in their usual way. " No ma'am, I did not say you 
 were ' you-know-how,' but I say so now and it's a crying 
 sin and I tell you so if I have to die for it. You are 
 sinning against light and knowledge for a drunkard cannot 
 enter the Kingdom of Heaven. Now, ma'am, when you 
 get sober, and need my assistance, ma'am, you can just 
 ring the bell, ma'am." Hannah closed the door behind 
 her with a tremendous jerk.
 
 62 MRS. BEN DARBY. 
 
 Cjupter 8. 
 
 -Intemperance 
 
 In nature is a tyranny ; it hath been 
 
 The untimely emptying of the happy throne, 
 
 And fall of many kings. SHAKSPEARE. 
 
 MRS. TEMPLE moved toward the door as Hannah closed 
 it sans ceremonie, but fell back on the sofa, overcome by a 
 variety of emotions topsy-turvy commotion of the brain, 
 and an unequivocal unwillingness of her feet to perform 
 their usual functions. What a tableau ! A superb subject 
 for a Vandyke or a Claude Lorraine. The chamber, with 
 its lofty ceilings ; its rich cxirtains and draperies ; its mirrors 
 and chandeliers ; in fine, all those exquisite appliances of 
 ease and comfort, so consonant to the taste and use of a 
 fashionable lady. 
 
 Mrs. Temple was, unconscious of all around her, ex 
 tended upon the sofa, unable to change her position. Her 
 form was magnificent, tall and graceful ; time had, with 
 dissipation, destroyed the timidity and modesty of youth 
 these gave place to a Venus-like stateliness and power. Her 
 modishly arranged head had fallen over the cushions, and 
 her dark hair, in long curls, drooped from her high brow, and 
 rested on her shoulders. The contour of her face presented 
 a perfect development of every intellectual beauty ; the 
 exquisitely arched brows, and the long silken lashes added 
 the matchless symmetry to her features, so fully appreciated 
 by the eye of an artist ; but the contraction of the muscles
 
 MRS. BEN DARBY. 63 
 
 and the deep crimson of the cheek, were painful to the 
 sight. The half-opened mouth, Avith lips relaxed, smiling 
 in contortion and disgust, were almost hideous. An itiner 
 ant spasm, twitching first one side of her face^and then the 
 other, eliciting a corresponding sympathy from the corners 
 of her left eye, gave her the agonized look of a fallen angel, 
 and seemed to say, 
 
 " And I forgot my home, my birth, 
 
 Profaned my spirit, sunk my brow ; 
 And reveled in gross joys of earth 
 'Till I became what I am now I" 
 
 She continued in a state between sleep and lethargy. 
 Sometimes she would throw her arms up, clasp her hands 
 wildly, or strike her foot against the ottoman, which was 
 within reach. Her head, so uneasily placed, bobbed up 
 and down, like a cork on water. Love, friendship, and 
 honor, were all forgotten. The hope of heaven and Chris 
 tian faith were expelled from her cankerous heart. No joy, 
 no pleasure, no consolation, but the soul-destroying the 
 deadening influence of the inebriating draught found en 
 trance there. She was lost in the wild ecstasies of delirium, 
 proving the inexpressible and undisputed delights of a 
 drunkard's paradise. 
 
 While Mrs. Temple is recovering from her extraordinary 
 excitement, I will give you an outline of her history down 
 to the present time. Mrs. Johnson had married in very 
 early life, an aged but aristocratic merchant, who was the 
 father of a very amiable and interesting child. Mr. John 
 son died, leaving his young wife the guardian of his two 
 children. The step-daughter was reared at home by her
 
 64 MRS. BEN DARBI*. 
 
 mother's relations, and Mrs. Temple, the youngest child, 
 was sent to a fashionable boarding-sell ool. 
 
 Her education was limited. The frivolous accomplish 
 ments of the day were the only points in which she ex 
 celled. Unfortunately for her, and those with whom her 
 lot fell in after days, she was neglected in all the most im 
 portant points of female tuition. The essential duties of 
 religion and moral rectitude, were to her memory but the 
 myths of the nursery. 
 
 She was taught to love and admire virtue as some bright 
 and beautiful vision, mixed up with the mysteries of a future 
 state, but that the whole purpose of woman's being was to 
 secure the praises and flatteries of the world to attain the 
 goal of ambition by a flourishing debut into the fashionable 
 circles of society, and by tact and judicious management, 
 obtain the hand of some distinguished character a man 
 whose position in life was unquestionably above mediocrity, 
 and whose name was a passport to the aristocratic sphere, 
 so ardently desired as the acme of all earthly aspirations. 
 
 Miss Johnson, unlike most young ladies, was not in the 
 least romantic. The sentiments of her heart concentrated 
 in self. She knew she was handsome, and her only study 
 was how to turn her good looks to some account how to 
 win, by her graces and accomplishments, a wealthy hus 
 band. 
 
 When chance threw Mr. Temple in her way, every art 
 was called into requisition to accomplish her designs. She 
 admired him and loved him as devotedly as she could love. 
 He, the soul of honor and truth, saw only the surface, and 
 dreamed of nothing unfair thought not of hidden breaches, 
 ambushes, or counter-plots, but felt supremely happy in
 
 MRS. BEN DARBY. 65 
 
 sharing his name and fortune with one so worthy, so beau 
 tiful, and so innocent. They were married. 
 
 In very early youth she had been thoughtless enough to 
 turn a willing ear to the praises and protestations of her 
 cousin, Ben Darby, who was a year or two her junior. The 
 conventionalities of life soon placed her before him, and she 
 looked back at the affair, and regretted it as a very childish 
 folly, and soon lost all remembrance of it. Young Darby 
 felt the change, but resolved never to forget it, and never 
 permit her to think he could. An undying revenge was 
 smothered in his heart, and he gloated over the anticipation 
 of success ; but his soft, oily voice, and the imperturbable 
 smile, that lay like a tissue of light over his hypocritical 
 face, said "peace, peace," when there was no peace. 
 Darby was poor, and Miss Johnson had been taught from 
 her cradle, that love and poverty were at variance. 
 
 They were married, and Ben Darby smiled as he handed 
 his cousin to the carriage which was to bear them off. He 
 kissed his hand gayly as they drove away, and turned from 
 the crowd to vent his smothered bitterness in half breathed 
 curses. 
 
 " She shall rue it the longest day she lives. I will 
 follow her to perdition," were the venomous oaths. 
 
 " You had better thank your stars that you are rid of 
 her," whispered a voice close by. 
 
 " Fairmont, you think so ?" 
 
 " I know it ; she will prove a curse instead of a bles 
 sing ; there is one poor devil taken in, or my name is 
 Haines." 
 
 " Tell me why!"
 
 66 MRS. BEN DARBY. 
 
 " If I were to tell you, you would not believe me ; it is 
 incredible." 
 
 " So bad as that?" 
 
 " As bad as you could wish it." 
 
 " And she loves another ?" 
 
 " I surmise she does." 
 
 " You speak from suspicion only." 
 
 " Oh Darby, you know well what I mean certainly you 
 do." 
 
 "Indeed, I do not." 
 
 " Have you truly no suspicion of what I am at ?" 
 
 " None, as I live." 
 
 " Well, I'll let you go on a voyage of discovery ; you 
 will not be as long getting at it as Columbus was in finding 
 America, but you will be more astonished. Watch her 
 well, Darby. ' There is something rotten in Denmark.' 
 If I am deceived, you may take the corn." 
 
 " Three weeks, three little weeks, on wings of love had 
 o'er them flown," when Mr. Temple discovered he had 
 married a little too hastily, and, for once in his life, had 
 committed a blunder. His wife was not just exactly what 
 he supposed a wife ought to be. They were not congenial. 
 She was frivolous and gay but then she was young, and 
 would soon lose some of the superabundance of youth's 
 elasticity. She was inconsistent and fitful but she was 
 petted and spoiled, and, no doubt, would soon imbibe a 
 more placid temperament. His love, he thought, would, in 
 course of time, remedy all her little peculiarities. They 
 were so trivial, that he wished he had not noticed them. 
 He had faults himself he was too fastidious he had raised
 
 MRS. BEN DARBY. 67 
 
 the standard of feminine worth too high. He knew so little 
 about the sex perhaps it was true to their natures to be 
 mysterious and inexplicable. They were all willful and 
 impetuous, for Scott, the great genius of romance, had 
 said 
 
 " Oh woman, in our hours of ease, 
 
 Uncertain, coy, and hard to please, 
 * * * 
 
 When care and anguish wring the brow, 
 A ministering angel thou I" 
 
 " A ministering angel," no doubt and he would have 
 willingly contracted the dyspepsia or consumption, so that 
 he might realize her worth but all the diseases in the cat 
 alogue of death, seemed to shun him, and he was forced to 
 exercise that priceless pearl patience. 
 
 He bore, with manly fortitude, his accumulating per 
 plexities, until, in despair, he concluded he had married a 
 sprite. 
 
 As time rolled on, Mr. Temple made but slow progress 
 in the study of feminine nature. His wife was a perfect 
 enigma. He found he had been grievously deceived, but he 
 bore it like a philosopher. Like a Christian, he set about 
 to see how all evils could be remedied, but like a quack 
 doctor, he commenced the application before he had disco 
 vered the cause ; of course, his progression was slow and 
 uncertain. 
 
 She was always on extremes when gay, volatile 
 when serious, gloomy. Yet what distressed him most of 
 all was, her unwillingness to visit with him his mountain- 
 home and she always recovered from her dark fits sooner, 
 if he were absent, than when, by kindness and affection, he 
 tried to win her smiles. He would leave her, sometimes, 
 the picture of despair and gloom, and upon his return find
 
 68 MBS. BEN DARBT. 
 
 her as smiling as a spring morning, or gay as the light- 
 winged lark. 
 
 This was painful in the extreme ; but he was so gentle 
 in his nature, so truthful and unselfish in his love, that to 
 see her happy was sufficient; at least, he made up his mind 
 that it should be so. 
 
 Darby was a frequent visitor at his rooms, but his calls 
 were always well timed, and of a ceremonious character 
 he had no reason to be jealous, for his wife's conduct 
 toward her cousin was irreproachable. Although Darby 
 was hovering like a vulture over the covert of the dove, yet 
 she was unconscious of it, and innocent of any participation 
 in his evil thoughts and designs. 
 
 Time, however, by one of those strange casualties, over 
 which human ingenuity has no control, terminated Mr. 
 Temple's misgivings and perplexities respecting the conduct 
 of his wife. The denouement was clear and satisfactory, 
 beyond the shadow of a doubt. 
 
 Mr. Temple was thrown from his horse, which accident 
 resulted in the dislocation of his ankle. He was taken 
 home nearly insensible. His young wife was frantic with 
 grief. When he recovered his consciousness, and found 
 her so wild with anguish on his account, he consoled him 
 self with the hope that his painful disaster would reveal 
 the latent good qualities of his wife. 
 
 She lingered about him, whispering sweet words of con 
 solation and sympathy, while the surgeon was binding up 
 the injured member. "A ministering angel thou," thought 
 he, and his eye rested on her face in calm repose. 
 
 The next evening early, she left her husband to 
 make some necessary purchases. He appeared quiet
 
 MRS. BEN DARBY. 69 
 
 and perfectly at rest. She promised to return in one hour. 
 " In one short hour, dear," she said, looking back at him 
 as she left the room. The hour soon passed off ; the 
 invalid was drowsy, and the moments glided dreamily 
 away. 
 
 Another hour still, Mrs. Temple did not appear. The 
 doctor came and found him much excited, and in a great 
 fever. He had been so long listening for his wife's step 
 along the hall, and fancying a thousand evils, that he had 
 worked himself into a fever. Bitter reflections came, one 
 after another. He thought of his home among the hills, 
 where the winds came in gentle whispers ; the fragrance of 
 the woodbine, that dropped upon the window sill ; the chant 
 of the birds, making their nests in the piazza roof; the 
 soothing hum of the busy bees among the clover-blossoms, 
 mingling with the distant and low tinkling of the cow-bells 
 in the meadows; the form of his beloved sister, whose pre 
 sence always brought a balm for every anguish, a charm 
 for every pain. 
 
 The servant brought his dinner. 
 
 "Has not Mrs. Temple returned yet ?" 
 
 " Not yet, sir." 
 
 " Something must have happened." 
 
 "Where did she go, sir?" asked the servant. 
 
 " To the Bowery, John." 
 
 " When did she leave, sir ?" 
 
 " At nine, this morning." 
 
 "It is now four ; I think she will be in soon, sir." 
 
 " Yes, I suppose. I am not accustomed to confinement, 
 John, and I am restless." 
 
 He tried to read, to sleep, to think, but he had become
 
 70 MRS. BEN DARBT. 
 
 so nervous that when the servant came in late in the after 
 noon, he found him ill, and in violent pain. 
 
 The clock struck six no appearance of Mrs. Temple. 
 The poor sufferer groaned with agony and pain : at last, 
 when night closed in, and the gas was lighted in his room, 
 his uneasiness was vented in groans and bitter invectives. 
 In the midst of this excitement the servant announced Mr. 
 Fairmont. 
 
 " How are you getting along Temple ? In bed hey !" 
 
 " I am in great pain." 
 
 "Ah, well, Harry, every body pities you; you are a 
 sober man. Now, if it was your humble servant why let him 
 go to the devil, the intemperate dog but where is Mary ?" 
 
 " I have not seen her since morning." 
 
 " No how you talk !" 
 
 " I thought," said Temple, faintly, " she might be at 
 your house." 
 
 " So she was, at two o'clock, but she and her sister had 
 a little disagreement, and Mary left suddenly and in a very 
 ill humor. So she has not been here all day ?" 
 
 " Left me alone and in pain," said he, bitterly. 
 
 "You must teach her better," said Fairmont, "it will 
 not do to let women have their way." 
 
 " Their hearts should teach them better." 
 
 " Suppose they have none ?" 
 
 " They are not all heartless," said Temple, with a 
 sigh. 
 
 "Sir," said Fairmont, " my wife never tries to cut capers. 
 She did when we were first married, but I cured her in a 
 hurry." 
 
 " What do you call capers ?"
 
 MRS. BEN DARBY. 71 
 
 " Pouting, when I staid out of nights, and dumps, if I 
 came home a little you know how." 
 
 " Mrs. Temple has never had anything of that sort to 
 complain of." 
 
 " I know it ; that is the very reason she imposes on your 
 good-nature. Come with me some night, and we will take 
 a regular bender we will get drunk ; and come home and 
 say, Mrs. Temple, I am your man I'll see you out, madam, 
 if you are all trumps. Then pitch up the chairs and kick 
 over the tables sling down the washing crockery. I war 
 rant you, Mary would be as docile as a mummy." 
 
 " Hush, Fairmont, said Temple, I cannot listen to you it 
 jars my nerves ; you know well it is not my nature to be 
 violent." 
 
 " Nor was it mine once," said Fairmont, " but I will tell 
 you how it was, Temple." 
 
 " Not now, Fairmont, some future time, when I can listen 
 with patience." 
 
 " No time like the present you can't help yourself, my 
 man, and while you are getting your foot cured you had 
 just as well do up all the diseases at once ! Your wife, 
 Temple, is very far from being an angel, like her sister, 
 Mrs. Fairmont." 
 
 Temple groaned. 
 
 " But Jane used to be as fractious as a cat. I will tell 
 you how I cured her. Yes, when we were first married, 
 Jane was a woman of her own accord. She undertook to 
 lay down the law to me whenever I came home glorious. 
 One night Darby and I got in with some old cronies, and 
 had a real breakdown ; when I went home I found Jane 
 sitting up with the baby, crying and looking like she
 
 72 MRS. BEN DARBY. 
 
 had been sold for half-price. So I laid down my cane, and 
 pitched my hat up on the top of the bedstead, and screamed, 
 ' Huzza for General Jackson.' Then, seizing the baby, I 
 sent it up to the ceiling. ' Hurra for John Quincy,' 
 screamed I, and away went baby ; but it came down 
 greatly delighted with its aeronautic excursion. I caught 
 it again in my arms, and looked to see how it had affected 
 its mother. Poor Jane had fainted the first thing she 
 said when she recovered was, ' Simon, is the baby dead !' 
 I tell you, Temple, she never sat up crying for me again, 
 with the baby; I cured her of that trick, certain. I believe in 
 my soul if she had fifty of them, I never would see one if I 
 came home braced. So you see, Temple, women can be 
 cured." 
 
 " The fault was all your own," said Temple, " why did 
 you give her cause to weep ?" 
 
 " A woman, Harry, has no right to raise a muss because 
 a man happens to come home a little transmogrified." 
 
 Fairmont was interrupted by a confusion of noises in the 
 hall. A loud, unnatural laugh, made Temple start upright. 
 There was a bustle a sound of mysterious whisper 
 ings. 
 
 The door was opened by Fairmont, and Temple heard 
 him say, " For God's sake don't bring her in here in that con 
 dition." 
 
 "What is it? Speak!" gasped Temple, trying in vain 
 to get off the couch. 
 
 " Be still, Harry, you will injure yourself," whispered 
 Fairmont. 
 
 " Oh have pity on me, Fairmont, tell me what has hap 
 pened to my wife ?"
 
 MKS. BEN DARBY. 73 
 
 " It is not much ; Mrs. Temple has been taken sud 
 denly ill." 
 
 " Oh ! do help me up, Fairmont," said the agonized hus 
 band, "she " 
 
 " Lie still, you can't help her. It is only the hysterics ; 
 women always have so many queer spells and odd fits. 
 My wife used to have them, but they have left her. I tell 
 her if any one has fits about the house it must be me if 
 there is any fitting to do, why, I'll do it myself." 
 
 " Oh, she is ill, I know she is ; she could not have left 
 me so long" and Temple covered his face with his hands. 
 
 " Nothing but a palpitation of the heart ; she ran up 
 stairs too rapidly she will get better directly. They have 
 taken her to her room ; be easy, Harry, a little ice-water 
 a spoonful of hartshorn will bring all right again. -Women 
 are queer creatures at best hard to manage you'll find 
 it so." 
 
 When Fairmont left the room he found Darby in the par 
 lor, looking very placid and self-composed. 
 
 " You have found out, Darby, that Mrs. Temple, has a 
 weak point," whispered Fairmont. 
 
 " I loved her once well enough to take her with all her 
 faults." 
 
 " Then you ought to have married her, for I see Temple 
 is not the man to bear such things. He is a very sober 
 man, and would, I presume, prefer a sober wife. He will 
 not live with her when he finds it out." 
 
 " He promised to take her for better or worse. It is his 
 own look-out." 
 
 " If that was Mrs. Fairmont I would take her to the
 
 74 MKS. BEN DARBT. 
 
 lunatic asylum, and have a strait jacket put on her, or I 
 would trump up some excuse for her to visit Black-well's 
 Island." 
 
 "Mrs. Temple is your wife's sister; whatever affects one 
 affects the other." 
 
 " Not liquor, Darby ; but tell me, has Temple found out 
 that his wife , that there is something wrong ?" 
 
 " If he has not, his penetration is pointless; he will, how 
 ever, be likely to find it out to-morrow." 
 
 "I feel very sorry that she will drink." 
 
 " I regret she has not tact enough to keep such things 
 in secret." 
 
 " Tact, the d ! who can keep such things in the 
 
 dark?" 
 
 " Speak softly, Fairmont, or it will get out." 
 
 " I guess it is out long ago. Now a man has a right to 
 drink as much as he pleases it is nobody's business but 
 when a young, fashionable woman does it, she ought to be 
 put in solitary confinement and fed on bread and water." 
 
 " Have not the fair sex as much right to enjoy the plea 
 sures of life as we have?" 
 
 " You call intoxication one of the pleasures of life, do 
 you? Well, I call it hell upon earth. I know you will 
 allow that I know something about it." 
 
 " Why persist in it then?" asked Darby, with a malicious 
 smile. " I never do a thing that is contrary to my wishes." 
 
 " Talk on." 
 
 " It shows a want of self-restraint, of independence, dis 
 cretion, and bad management." 
 
 "As far as your experience goes, Darby, it shows a lack
 
 MBS. BEN DARBY. 75 
 
 of hypocrisy strength in the nervous system you are 
 made of iron you have no feelings, you never had you 
 
 are so d devilish in your nature that you can drink 
 
 twice as much as any other man ; but, by heavens ! you 
 walk erect and strut, as much as to say, 'Am I drunk ?' 
 and you are never putting on your pants hind-part before. 
 The watch has never picked you up on the curb and carried 
 you home, with your face bruised and a hole in your hat. 
 No, sir ! you can reform just when you please now I want 
 to see you do it. They are getting up a temperance society 
 on a novel plan, let me see you give them your name. A 
 man who is as frigid and dogmatic as you are, with a pint 
 of brandy stowed away, must be a phenomenon after 
 drinking cold water for a week. Cool off once, Darby, 
 just to see how you feel." 
 
 " I will follow your example, Fairmont." 
 
 " Well, I expect to die yes, I had just as well say it 
 in a gutter, or tumble off the leeward side of the ferry 
 boat, some Sunday, or be found frozen to death in the 
 park, or with a fractured skull, by the watch ; but bad as I 
 am, I would not have a drunken wife ; and I must say, 
 Darby, it is not manly in you to take Mrs. Temple where 
 she can indulge her propensity. You are not acting the 
 part of a friend to hold the cup to her lips, even if it may 
 bring her to you at last." 
 
 " She will get it any- way, Fairmont; it does not matter 
 much it will be all the same a hundred years hence so 
 come, boy, let 's go and have a cozy punch in my room, 
 and we will talk it all over, there." 
 
 The two worthies finished the evening together over
 
 76 MRS. BEN DARBY. 
 
 cigars, oysters, and punch. Darby went to bed stupe 
 fied, but the uproarious Fairmont, singing and swearing, 
 stretched himself on the lounge and fell, at last, into a 
 profound sleep, singing 
 
 " Bid her shed not one tear of sorrow, 
 
 To sully a heart so brilliant and bright ; 
 
 But balmy drops from the red grape borrow 
 
 To bathe the relic from morn till night."
 
 MRS. BEN DARBY. 77 
 
 apter 9. 
 
 " Ruin's wheel has driven o'er us, 
 
 Not a hope that dare attend, 
 The wide world is all before us, 
 But a world without a friend." 
 
 As the clock struck twelve Mrs. Temple stole softly into 
 the sitting-room where her husband still occupied the 
 lounge. He had at last fallen asleep, overcome by his 
 mental suffering, bodily pain, and powerful anodynes. He 
 was alone ; his servant had not yet taken his place to watch 
 for the night. The intense pain he had suffered had gra 
 dually diminished, and a sweet repose followed its total 
 cessation. 
 
 Mrs. Temple looked upon him as he lay wrapped in "the 
 mantle of sleep ;" his face was composed and his fine manly 
 countenance indicated peace and resignation. She turned 
 abruptly from him, fumbled about the bottles and glasses 
 on the table by his side, then cautiously prepared to seat 
 herself on the foot of the lounge. Totally unconscious of 
 how far she might descend miscalculating the proximity 
 of the point of location, she came down with a tremendous 
 velocity upon the inflamed and aggravated foot, which had 
 not been easy one hour out of the twenty-four. A shriek 
 of agony from the sufferer brought her a little to herself. 
 She raised herself up, and drawing his foot into her lap, 
 she began to trot it up and down with a savage vehemence, 
 singing :
 
 78- MRS. BEN DABBY. 
 
 " Wreath the bowl 
 
 With flowers of soul, 
 The brightest wit can find, 
 
 We '11 take a flight 
 
 Toward heaven, this night, 
 And leave dull earth behind." 
 
 A wild, smothered scream, in which was condensed the 
 anguish of a torturing death, brought the servant to the 
 room. He found Mr. Temple in a strong convulsion and 
 his wife holding on to the dislocated ankle. She was 
 removed from the room ; the physician called and re-set 
 the bone with inexpressible suffering to the patient. Days 
 and months passed before he was able to come forth again 
 from his room. Every means was used to prevent Mrs. 
 Temple from indulging in her cups, but all was in vain. 
 Mr. Temple saw that it was impossible to live with her in 
 peace and security, and wisely determined to leave her. 
 Several weeks before the birth of her infant, he kept her 
 in close confinement, and when the child was five weeks 
 old the wretchedly beguiled mother commenced her liba 
 tions to Bacchus with increased zest. A mother's and a 
 wife's love were forgotten ; what then could reach her 
 heart? what could reform her? Mr. Temple had the child 
 removed to a distant village to be nursed. They separ 
 ated. He occupied a room in one hotel and she in 
 another. 
 
 Ever generous and noble-hearted he gave her an ample 
 maintenance ; enough to surround her with all the luxuries 
 of life. She attempted to recover the child, and she suc 
 ceeded in getting possession of it. She kept it two days, 
 weeping bitter tears of repentance over it; but the third 
 day she became intoxicated, and while lying on the sofa,
 
 MRS. BEN DARBF. 79 
 
 drunk and asleep, Mr. Temple's confidential servant 
 entered and softly stole it away. 
 
 " Did she make no resistance ?" asked the husband. 
 
 " None, sir." 
 
 "Was the child lying on the sofa ?" 
 
 " Yes sir, with its feet up in its mother's bosom and its 
 head down." 
 
 Mr. Temple then resolved to remove Elinor to his pater 
 nal dwelling ; he could not bear the thought of leaving her 
 within the reach of her mother. He was well aware his 
 wife had friends, and some very reckless ones too. He 
 knew, that when he left New York with the child, he was 
 followed and watched. At Petersburg, he tarried several 
 days at a friend's house, and with a great deal of care, 
 evaded the vigilance of his spies, and succeeded in placing 
 the child in security, without giving them any clue to its 
 asylum. 
 
 Now, reader, you know his secret a drunken wife ! A 
 young, beautiful mother offering to the cherubic lips" of 
 innocence, the cankering, filthy mixture of a poisoned 
 breast ; engendering in its developing constitution, the sta 
 mina of pollution. Mothers ! touch not, taste not ; let not 
 one drop of the tempter's cup mingle with the pure ele 
 ment of thy breast. Nature means for the infant to drain 
 a pure fountain. 
 
 We left Mrs. Temple lying rather uneasily on the sofa. 
 The sound of the tea-gong roused her up. Finding her 
 self pretty capable of promenading the long halls and 
 winding stairs, she was just coming to the determination to 
 try the experiment, when the door opened, and Mr. Darby 
 entered. He had just returned from Virginia, where he
 
 80 MRS. BEN DARBT. 
 
 had gone, on purpose to restore Elinor to her mother. Mr. 
 Temple had lately succeeded in getting a divorce, and Mrs. 
 Temple had promised Darby to marry him, provided he 
 succeeded in securing the child. 
 
 Darby did not care so very much about gratifying the 
 whims of the mother, but he thought he would be able to 
 make money by the transaction afterward, for he knew 
 Temple would spare no means to recover it. 
 
 " Oh ! Darby !" cried the lady, starting from her seat, 
 " is that you ? Oh ! where tell me, where is my child ?" 
 
 " For heaven's sake, Mary, don't go off now into a 
 double-twisted convulsion be still," and pushing her 
 back to the sofa, he said, "What is the matter?" 
 
 "My child, Oh! my child!" 
 
 "Mrs. Temple," said he, "you are getting wonderful 
 motherly." 
 
 " Dear Ben, you are so cruel so hard-hearted." 
 
 " You shall first welcome me," said Darby, "before I 
 tell you another word." 
 
 " Oh ! cousin, you are truly welcome. I never was so 
 glad to see you indeed I am but I do want to see my 
 child Ben, you never were a mother," said Mrs. Darby, 
 trying to force up her tears. 
 
 " Nor ever expect to be !" said he ; " but listen to me 
 you promised never to drink again, and you have broken 
 your promise can't you learn to govern yourself? you 
 must do it you shall. Pray don't expose yourself to 
 your child but that's no affair of mine she is not my 
 child." 
 
 " You know well, Ben, that I can't keep from it you 
 know it."
 
 MRS. BEN DARBY. 81 
 
 " But you can keep within bounds." 
 ' "I will try I do try but have pity on me, and tell me, 
 where is my child ?" 
 
 " She is with Fairmont." 
 
 " Oli, goodness ! Darby, why did you leave her there ? 
 I will go to her." 
 
 " You will do no such thing," and he drew her back ; 
 " I was not aware that her aunt's house was not a fit place 
 for her." 
 
 "Yes, but you know his vulgarity his loose conversa 
 tion." 
 
 " Oh ! I forgot, your child is a Temple. 
 
 "Now don't be bitter, Darby but you ought to know 
 that Fairmont is not a fit protector for a girl ten years of 
 age." 
 
 " You are becoming sentimentally moral I sincerely 
 wish your daughter's presence may be beneficial to you." 
 
 "Talk on," said Mrs. Temple, "I love to hear you 
 indeed, you are quite edifying but stay, there she is ! I 
 hear Fairmont's voice." 
 
 The door opened, and Fairmont ushered into the room 
 the little wild-flower of Wolf-Gap. She stood amazed in 
 the middle of the apartment, totally at a loss how to pro 
 ceed. The mother held her arms open, but her emotions 
 were. too strong for utterance. 
 
 " Why don't you go to your mother, you little Potawat- 
 amy, you ?" said Fairmont, pushing her forward. 
 
 " Please let me be, sir." 
 
 " Don't you see your mother is dying to get at you ?" 
 
 " My mother Oh ! no sir did you say my mother ?" 
 cried Elinor, looking wildly, first at one, then at the other.
 
 82 MRS. BEN DARBY. 
 
 "Elinor, 7ny child, come, come to your mamma." 
 
 All the sweet, enrapturing thoughts of a mother's love, 
 rushed into the heart of Elinor. Her doubts vanished and 
 full of trust and faith, she fell on the bosom of her mother. 
 
 "Mother dear sweet mother," and she laid her pale, 
 but pure cheek, to the burning face of Mrs. Temple. 
 
 "My sweet child but do not call me mother; it brings 
 to mind a big cap, with a wide border an apron, and tape- 
 strings, with a bunch of keys tied on the side." 
 
 " And piles of bread and butter," said Darby. 
 
 Elinor listened with astonishment. 
 
 " Your aunt Paulina, dear, I suppose, thinks it is Christ 
 ian-like, to say Mother, because it is in the Bible, but I 
 wish you to call me Mamma." 
 
 " Mamma, beautiful mamma," said Elinor, twining her 
 arms around the stately neck. 
 
 " How did you get her, Darby ?" 
 
 " Stole her." 
 
 " Were you very sorry, love, when those barbarians 
 caught you, and brought you away ?" 
 
 " Yes, mamma, but I did not know that they were 
 bringing me to you." 
 
 " We told you so," said Darby. 
 
 " Yes, I know you did, Mr. Darby, but you always 
 winked at Mr. Fairmont when you said so, and I thought 
 you were fooling me." 
 
 " I suppose they taught you to hate me ?" 
 
 "Who, mamma?" 
 
 " Paulina Temple, and your father." 
 
 " No ma'am I never knew I had a mother a mamma, 
 I mean."
 
 MRS. BEN DARBY. 83 
 
 " You are a sweet, docile dove did you think I was 
 dead ?" 
 
 " I did, mamma, until these men " 
 
 " Say gentlemen, love." 
 
 " Dragged me away from dear, sweet Wolf- Gap and 
 don't you think, mamma, that they were nearly all the 
 time so drunk, that " 
 
 " Come, Darby, it is time for us to leave by George ! 
 she is a bright one. Mrs. Temple, I am afraid you will be 
 for paying us to take that young one back ! Good night." 
 
 " Mamma," said Elinor, drawing up closely to her again, 
 " did you send those men after me ?" 
 
 " Gentlemen, dear you must say gentlemen." 
 
 " But they are not, mamma." 
 
 " I know best, love, what is proper." 
 
 " Well, they may be gentlemen in New York, but they 
 could not be in Amherst." 
 
 " Why not, dear ?" 
 
 " Because they are drunkards. Why did you send them 
 for me ?" 
 
 " Because, love, I could not live any longer without 
 you." 
 
 " You loved me so?" and Elinor kissed her again, and 
 smiled like one in a dream. "Why did they not come to 
 the house and ask for me, and talk to grandpapa? but they 
 caught me in the orchard tied up my mouth, and threatened 
 to kill me. Oh ! that hateful Darby is he your cousin, 
 mamma ?" 
 
 " Yes, my love." 
 
 " And Mr. Fairmont is your brother ?" 
 
 "My brother-in-law."
 
 84 MRS. BEN DARBY. 
 
 " Oh ! I am glad he is not my own dear uncle." 
 
 "You don't like him?" 
 
 " I like him better than I do Darby." 
 
 "Mr. Darby, love." 
 
 " Mamma, where is my father ?" 
 
 " Papa, love." 
 
 " Where is he do tell me ?" 
 
 " I do not know." 
 
 "Not know? Oh, yes, you do !" 
 
 " I do not, child we never see each other ; and if you 
 stay with me, you must give up all your Wolf- Gap friends, 
 and forget them." 
 
 " Not my own dear father ?" 
 
 " Yes can you not give up all for me ?" and Mrs. Tem 
 ple looked so beautiful when she said this, that Elinor again 
 hid her face in her bosom. 
 
 " I feel I shall love you better than all the world, mam 
 ma, excc-pt " 
 
 '"No exceptions, Elinor you must forget all." 
 
 " God will not let me." 
 
 "But you will try, I know you will but how old-wo 
 manish you look your clothes look, as old-timed as Lot's 
 wife, when she came out of the ark." 
 
 " But Lot's wife, mamma, was never in the ark she 
 turned to a pillar of salt." 
 
 " Yes, because she was prying into things that did not 
 concern her," continued Mrs. Temple ; but I say, Elinor, 
 your clothes are a perfect libel on the past. Wolf- Gap 
 fashions, I suppose." 
 
 "Indeed, you are mistaken. Mr. Darby bought them 
 for me in Richmond."
 
 MRS. BEN DARBY. 85 
 
 " I thought Darby had better taste." 
 
 "Oh, mamma, he has not one good quality about him.' 
 
 " You must not express such an opinion you are too 
 little to have one of your own." 
 
 " I cannot help seeing when a person is drunk can I ?" 
 
 " Well, dear, you must try and think better of him ; do 
 you know that, perhaps, he will soon be your father?" 
 
 "Never!" cried Elinor, her arms relaxing their hold 
 upon her mother, " my father is living I can have but one." 
 
 " I suppose they never told you that your father and I 
 were divorced ?" 
 
 " What is divorced ? 
 
 "Unmarried, love." 
 
 " People can't be unmarried without dying," said Elinor. 
 
 " Yes, dear the law does it." 
 
 " The law Oh ! no, mamma ; for when Ralph Jones and 
 Sallie Barns got married at Wolf-Gap, the preacher said, 
 ' Those whom God joins together, let no man put asunder,' 
 and when I asked grandpapa what it meant, he said they 
 had to live together until they died." 
 
 " These things are beyond your comprehension, love we 
 will talk no more about it to-night ; be careful, dear, not to 
 talk in company about your Ralph Jones and Sallie Barnes ; 
 it sounds vulgar." 
 
 Elinor understood enough to make her feel very un 
 happy, and even after she was introduced to the splendor 
 and luxury of city life, she pined for the green fields and 
 sweet quiet glades, where the music of nature, and the fra 
 grance of the earth, poured out their treasures upon the 
 passing winds. 
 
 She had been but a few days with her mother, when the
 
 86 MRS. BEN DARBY. 
 
 novelty of having "a sweet, beautiful mamma," began to 
 pall on her imagination. Although Mrs. Temple was beau 
 tiful and fashionable, and given to gross flattery, yet there 
 was at best little in her to interest a pure-minded child, 
 and Elinor's education was so different from hers, that 
 child as she was, Mrs. Temple could not cope with her ar 
 guments ; so there was very little congeniality between 
 them. The idea of her mother marrying again, was full 
 of horror and disgust. She felt, she knew there was some 
 thing wrong, but she was not old enough to enter into the 
 merits of the case. The thought of having Darby for her 
 daily companion, was torture, and the poor child brooded in 
 painful silence over her misfortunes. She determined to 
 write home in spite of all her mother's precautions. Her 
 mother's love was all made up of sweet words and rich 
 presents books, clothes, and jewels all were pleasing and 
 novel to Elinor, but there was something missing ; she 
 could not feel easy with her mother ; could not rely 
 upon her in full faith ; there was no common sentiment 
 or common feeling. If Elinor spoke of the mountains 
 of Amherst, and her country associations, her mother 
 always stopped her short, 
 
 " Well, dear, you must forget all those vulgar people 
 you are in the city now." 
 
 Her mother left her alone so much of her time she was 
 sick so often sat up so late at night, and slept so late in 
 the morning sometimes until dinner-time then she was 
 so fretful and peevish always garrulous, and never agree 
 able only of evenings. Elinor was getting very weary of 
 being shut up all day in the house, having access only to 
 the parlor and halls. She read until her eyes ached
 
 MRS. BEN DARBY. 87 
 
 looked over all the streams and mountains which were in 
 the pictures that adorned the walls, and her young heart 
 yearned for the joys of country life the song of the wild 
 bird on the mountain's crest the murmurs of the crystal 
 drops that washed the cleft rock the noise of the geese in 
 the meadow-brook ; but above all, the old school-house in 
 the hollow, where she had passed so many bright and 
 happy days, making bouquets of wild flowers, and twisting 
 love-knots out of the long broom-straws. 
 
 Tired of her thoughts, she gazed from the window to 
 find relief by watching the crowd which swept to and fro 
 with the speed of thought. She read the signs over the 
 street, and spelt them backward ; watched the neighbors 
 at the boarding-house on the corner the little pale-faced 
 baby that lived at the window, tapping the glass with its 
 tiny fingers, like a bird in a cage the sickly-looking gen 
 tleman in No. , pausing at his easel, and the old woman 
 over the Insurance Office, with the mob-cap, brushing the 
 dust and cobwebs from the shelves of the quaint-looking 
 old room, while its inmate was walking on the Battery 
 the lady with the green shawl and brown parasol, who goes 
 out and comes in so frequently ; she takes off the everlast 
 ing shawl, folds it up, and lays it away ; seats herself in 
 the rocking-chair, and talks to herself. Elinor wonders 
 what she is saying expects she is tired of being alone. 
 Then she became interested in a large building that was un 
 dergoing a remodeling, a huge brick house nearly opposite; 
 they were pulling it down, and building it over ; the bricks 
 were all taken apart ; the old crust of mortar removed, and 
 the bricks piled up outside the curb-stone. A good many 
 hands were employed, and all seemed very busy. So
 
 88 MRS. BEN DARBY. 
 
 deeply were her childish thoughts taken up in counting the 
 loads of brick that were placed on the temporary tower, 
 she did not notice that any one was near her. 
 
 "Elinor," said Hannah, "do not lean so far out of the 
 window, you might fall out and crush somebody's new- 
 fashioned bonnet." 
 
 "No I won't, Hannah; but only see that boy over 
 there !" 
 
 "Where?" 
 
 " Piling up the bricks, don't you see ?" 
 
 " I see lots of them, all the time there is no scarcity of 
 the article in this city." 
 
 "Yes, but I mean that boy, there, with the straw hat 
 and striped pants. Oh ! look at him, Hannah, what a 
 heavy load he carries!" 
 
 " He '11 get done the sooner." 
 
 " See, Hannah, how fast he walks ! there, don't you see 
 how fast he is piling them up ? Theodore ! Theodore !" 
 she cried, almost springing from the window. 
 
 " Miss Elinor, your mamma will hear you you had 
 better not make her mad unless you want to see the devil's 
 wife !" 
 
 " Oh ! Hannah, that is Theodore !" and she called again, 
 " Theodore !" 
 
 "I'll Theodore you, you vulgar little de'il," cried Mrs. 
 Temple, seizing her by the shoulders and pulling her down ; 
 " how dare you scream at those nasty, low-bred carriers ? 
 are you not ashamed of yourself? Come, come, no cry 
 ing I will not have it ! Fix her up, Hannah, and bring 
 her in the sitting-room Mr. Darby wants to see her 
 mind, don't provoke me 1"
 
 MRS. BEN DARBY. 89 
 
 "Didn't I tell you so!" said Hannah, as soon as her 
 mistress left the hall; "she is one of the furies. Ah! 
 child, your troubles are just beginning I pity you and will 
 do all I can to help you. I was going to leave, the night 
 you came, but said to myself I know a thing or two, so I 
 concluded I would stay just on your account." 
 
 " You are very kind, Hannah, and I feel very sorry that 
 mamma is angry but, Hannah, that was Theodore I 
 know it was." 
 
 "And pray, who is Theodore, Miss, that you must be 
 calling him from the window ?" 
 
 " Oh ! you know, he lived just down below grandpa's 
 I left him there when I came away." 
 
 " How came he here ? It must be his ghost !" 
 
 "I know it is him." 
 
 " How do you know?" 
 
 " By his walk." 
 
 "All hod-carriers walk queer," said Hannah, laughing; 
 " don't be so foolish, and whatever you do, don't you men 
 tion his name before your lady-mother if you do, I pity 
 you." 
 
 Elinor walked timidly into the room and was -welcomed 
 by Mr. Darby, who introduced her to some ladies and gen 
 tlemen who had met to have a social whist party. 
 
 "What a sweet, little daughter you have," said Miss 
 Stitson "very much like you, Mrs. Temple." 
 
 "She is the image of her father," said Darby; "a 
 Temple out and out." 
 
 Elinor looked down to hide the smile of satisfaction that 
 would come over her features in spite of all her self- 
 control. 
 8
 
 90 MRS. BEN DARBY. 
 
 " Elinor can sing like a canary," said Mr. Darby ; " have 
 you ever sung for your mamma, child?" 
 
 " No sir, she has never told me to sing." 
 
 " The birds do not wait to be asked," said Miss Stitson. 
 
 " Yes, but they are out in the sunshine and can't help 
 singing." 
 
 "And have no mammas to scold them," said Darby, 
 mischievously. 
 
 " No; and no Darby to hate," said Elinor. 
 
 "How did Mr. Darby find out that you sing?" asked 
 one of the gentlemen. 
 
 " He heard me singing on the road when we were com 
 ing from Virginia." 
 
 " Oh ! Mrs. Temple, she is a prize !" cried Miss Stitson ; 
 " so very precocious ! Well, dear, you will sing for me 
 come sit here, where I can see your eyes now begin, 
 dear." 
 
 Elinor sang a sweet, simple air with simple words, which 
 pleased the company very much ; at least, the gentlemen 
 praised her and the ladies caressed her ; and between the 
 two, Elinor, like " children of a larger growth," felt called 
 upon to do her best to increase the admiration ; her vanity 
 was excited. Turning to Mr. Darby, she said : 
 
 " Now, Mr. Darby, I '11 sing a song that will just suit 
 you." 
 
 "Why will it suit me, pray, Miss Elinor?" 
 
 " Because it is a temperance song." 
 
 Loud peals of laughter broke forth at Darby's expense. 
 
 "Let's have it, by all means," cried Miss Stitson. 
 
 " Yes, it will certainly be beneficial to Ben," said a gen 
 tleman.
 
 MRS. BEN DARBY. 91 
 
 " It must work a miracle, then," said Mrs. Brown. 
 
 "Why, Ben, the temperance question is beginning to 
 seek out victims." 
 
 "Who composed your song, dear?" asked Mrs. Brown. 
 
 " I don't know, madam; Mrs. Grimes got it from a Bos 
 ton newspaper, and she made me sing it at a quilting for 
 Peter Larkins you know Peter Larkins ?" said she, look 
 ing trustfully at Ben Darby. 
 
 The room rang with laughter. 
 
 " One of your country cronies, hey ! Darby ?" said Mrs. 
 Brown. 
 
 Darby smiled blandly and bore the jests of his friends 
 patiently. Mrs. Temple was on thorns. 
 
 "Come, dear," cried Miss Stitson; "J am dying to 
 hear it !" 
 
 Elinor folded her hands on her bosom and sang in a 
 sweet voice : 
 
 The sun is brightly looming 
 
 Over hill and over dale, 
 The sweet may-buds are blooming 
 
 Down in the winding vale. 
 Crystal drops are falling 
 
 On every leaf and flower, 
 To life and beauty calling 
 The wild woodland bower. 
 
 Cold water, ever flowing, 
 
 Thy diamond-drops are free 
 Cold water, sparkling, glowing 
 "We can drink, drink of thee. 
 
 The wild deer on the mountain, 
 
 The eagle on the steep 
 Drink of the gushing fountain 
 
 So limpid and so deep ;
 
 92 MBS. BEN DARBY. 
 
 It 's Heaven's own distilling, 
 
 For the sparkling waters glide 
 Through the earth's bosom, filling 
 The ocean with its tide. 
 
 Cold water, ever flowing, 
 
 Thy diamond-drops are free 
 Cold water, sparkling glowing, 
 We can drink" drink of thee. 
 
 The amher wine-cup gleaming 
 
 With the sweet grape's crimson glow, 
 Its wizard drops are teeming 
 
 With bitterness and woe. 
 Dark goblet ! oh, how cheating, 
 
 Though thy brim may jeweled be, 
 The pleasures, oh ! how fleeting 
 To those who drink of thee. 
 
 Cold water, ever flowing, 
 
 Thy diamond- drops are free 
 Cold water, sparkling glowing, 
 We can drink, drink of thee. 
 
 A peal of merriment succeeded the song, and some one 
 accused Darby of looking very penitential ; but he swore 
 he had enough of cold water, and called up hot punch to 
 carry off his chill. They all became very convivial. 
 Champagne followed the punch, and some of the company 
 were becoming a little uproarious. 
 
 Mrs. Brown proposed to toast the temperance song ; and 
 Miss Slitson, the singer ; so Darby poured out a glass of 
 wine and handed it to the child, and expressed his admira 
 tion for the song. Elinor refused to take it. 
 
 " Thank you, sir, I never drank any in my life." 
 
 " That is no reason you never should." 
 
 " Papa never would let me taste it," said Elinor, look-
 
 MBS. BEN DABBY. 93 
 
 ing beseechingly toward her mother. " Indeed, he said I 
 must never touch liquor." 
 
 " Oh what a little vulgarity it is," cried Mrs. Temple, 
 turning crimson ; "it is wine, dear, never say liquor." 
 
 " Yes, mamma, I know that, but it will make drunk 
 come." 
 
 " Do you know, child, you are acting very impolitely?" 
 
 "I suppose I am, but I cannot drink it, Mr. Darby." 
 
 "Just taste it, Elinor, that is all that is required of you." 
 
 " I will not touch it, for our preacher at Wolf- Gap, said: 
 Touch not, taste not, nor handle the unclean thing." 
 
 " What a sweet angel it is, quite a little moralist," said 
 Miss Stitson. " She is a perfect treasure." 
 
 Mrs. Temple led Elinor to the door, and ordered Hannah 
 not to permit her to return, but put her to bed. 
 
 "Did you drink any punch ?" asked Hannah, who had 
 been listening at the door. 
 
 " No.. I did not." 
 
 " That was just right; never taste it, never Miss it is 
 rank poison ; it kills soul and body both. I will take you, 
 some night, to the Tabernacle, to hear the Temperance 
 Lecturer would you like to go ?" 
 
 " Very much, Hannah ; you are very good but please 
 let me look out of the hall window. I will not make a 
 noise." 
 
 "What for, child?" 
 
 " Perhaps Theodore is there." 
 
 " Thinking of him still ?" 
 
 " He is my old friend, Hannah, and he is very good and 
 true." 
 
 " How do you know ?"
 
 94 MRS. BEN DARBY. 
 
 " Grandpa said he could trust him with his honor or his 
 life. Yes, yes," whispered she, " there he is still !" She 
 clasped her hands, and he took off his hat and replaced it, 
 with a very grave air. " Oh yes ! Hannah, it is him, please 
 let him in." 
 
 " In here, child ! that will never do I must take him to 
 my room he is just the size of Charley, my brother. 
 My heart is warming up toward this Theodore of yours, 
 dear." 
 
 " Oh ! I love you for that, Hannah ; bring him in here 
 first." 
 
 " No ! come with me." 
 
 Elinor was so delighted when she saw Theodore, that 
 she could scarcely keep still a moment. 
 
 " How d'ye do, Miss Elinor ?" 
 
 " I am well, Theodore, how's the folks at Grandpa's ? 
 Oh ! I have been so lonesome." 
 
 " Lonesome, in this great city ?" asked Theodore. 
 
 " Yes, very but, Theodore, you worked very hard to 
 day it is worse than turning over Grandpa's hay." 
 
 " A little, Miss." 
 
 "What makes you say Miss?" asked Elinor, eagerly. 
 
 *' Because it is not the same as it was," said the lad, 
 gazing kindly at the excited little girl. 
 
 " I am very sure I am the same Elinor, and you are the 
 same Theodore," replied the child, with a glowing face, 
 full of trust and decision. 
 
 " We are in the city now, and must do as the folks 
 here do." 
 
 *' Yes," said Hannah, " when we go to Rome we must 
 be Romans."
 
 MRS. BEN DAKBT. 95 
 
 " Theodore Harper," tell me, cried Elinor, " what you 
 came to New-York for, and who came with you ?" 
 
 " He came to see the Elephant," said Hannah. 
 
 "Where is the Elephant," asked Elinor, with childish 
 credulity. 
 
 " Ah, that is it," said Hannah, smiling quietly "that's 
 the question everybody asks ; well, dear, be easy, you will 
 be very apt to see it before you leave the city."
 
 96 MRS. BEN DARBY. 
 
 ID. 
 
 I loved her as a brother loves 
 His favorite sister. L, E. L. 
 J * * . 
 
 " THEODORE, what made you leave home ? You were not 
 dragged away with your mouth stopped up with an old 
 dirty pocket-handkerchief, as I was." 
 
 "No, I hope I was not," said Theodore, with a look of 
 decided heroism. " They would have stirred up a very 
 different kind of a coon, the drunken varmints !" 
 
 " I wish I was back at the " Gap," don't you, Theo 
 dore ?" 
 
 " No, Miss Elinor this is a great city. There are so 
 many ways to get along here and to learn." 
 
 "You cannot go to school, can you ?" asked Elinor, with 
 a tear in her eye. 
 
 " No ; but I can work all day, and Saturday night I can 
 go to lectures on Sunday, to Sabbath School and church ; 
 and I can rent lots of books to read. You see, Elinor, 
 (Miss, I mean), when they brought you off, the whole 
 plantation was in a dreadful panic. Your aunt Paulina was 
 nearly crazy. Some ran one way, some another some 
 went for the doctor for poor yellow Joe, who was nearly 
 killed some went for the constables. Miss Paulina gave 
 me some money, and told me to take old Cindarilla, and 
 never stop until I come up with you. Her word was always 
 my gospel, so I started off; but I did not get the old mare.
 
 MRS. BEN DARBY. 97 
 
 You know how contrary and hateful she gets, sometimes. 
 I put off in the direction they went, and, knowing all the 
 by-paths through the hills, I took every near cut I could, 
 and I know very little grass grew under my feet. I never 
 should, however, have caught up with them, if it had not 
 been for a gentleman from Bottetourt county, that was tak 
 ing a drove of mules and horses down to Petersburg, for 
 the lower markets. He had his creatures in a pasture, and 
 was about getting his breakfast when I went into the inn. 
 When I asked the tavern keeper if he had seen a dearborn, 
 and two gentlemen, and a little girl with black curls " 
 
 "That was me, wasn't it, Theodore ?" inquired Elinor 
 in great glee. 
 
 " It was nobody else. I was not thinking of anything 
 else, but how to catch up with the villains " 
 
 " Hush ! Theodore," said Elinor, putting her hand over 
 his mouth. " There is one of them in the parlor speak 
 low." 
 
 " I would not tell my name if I was afraid of either of 
 them ! 
 
 " You are right, brother," said Hannah, " but still, it is 
 best not ' to nod at a sheep when you have your hand in its 
 mouth ;' but go on with your story." 
 
 " Well, as I was saying, the landlord said, they passed 
 there two days ago they stayed there all night, and the 
 child cried herself to sleep." 
 
 " I would not have cried, Theodore, if I had thought 
 you were so near." 
 
 " The man," continued Theodore, "had a fractious crea 
 te-' along, that would neither drive nor be driven. As I was 
 Balking along the roadside, he asked me what I would take
 
 98 MRS. BEN DARBT. 
 
 to ride the animal to Petersburg. I told him I would 
 ride him if he would pay my expenses there and back ; so 
 I did it." 
 
 " You were quite a good manager," said Elinor, highly 
 delighted with his narrative. 
 
 " Where there is a will, there is always a way," said 
 Hannah. " A handful of mother wit is worth a bushel 
 of learning ; but go on, brother, and tell us how you got 
 along." 
 
 "I could tell you a pretty long history but we have 
 not the time now, so I must be concise and short in my 
 story." 
 
 " Short and sweet," said Hannah. 
 
 " I traveled a very long road before I came in sight of 
 you, Elinor. Just as we got in the suburbs of Petersburg, 
 I saw the carriage, and knew it for the one that had stood 
 at the ' Cross-Keys.' It was nearly night, and the man 
 whose horse I had ridden, gave me money to pay my way 
 home again. I went in the hotel, and seated myself to reflect 
 on what I ought to do. I counted over my little stock, 
 and felt quite satisfied that I should not starve. I deter 
 mined, however, to be very saving." 
 
 " ' Better spare at the brim than at the bottom/" said 
 Hannah, soberly looking at the youth ; " I hope you will 
 continue as you have begun." 
 
 " So I bought me some crackers and cheese, and then 
 thought I would walk out a little, and see the place, as it 
 had been a long time since I was there. As I was going 
 up High street, I looked into a confectionary shop window, 
 at the nice things that were placed there for show, and 
 heard some very loud words uttered at the door, and turning,
 
 MRS. BEN DARBF. 99 
 
 I saw the same man who carried you off he was quite 
 drunk, and his companion was trying to get him back 
 to the tavern." 
 
 "'Here, my lad,' said the youngest gentleman; 'here, 
 take these bundles and follow me' so I took them and 
 walked behind them to the hotel. When we got to the 
 office he told me to bring them up in the parlor. I did as 
 he bade me, and when I got up in the room he told me to 
 throw them on the sofa. As I passed over to dispose of 
 my buz'den, I saw you sitting in a big rocking-chair, fast 
 asleep. I don't know, but it seems to me, that there were 
 two tears still fresh on your cheek ; but you were resting 
 as sweetly as if you were at home in your crib." 
 
 "Oh! I wish you had whispered 'Elinor!'" cried the 
 young girl, clapping her hands at the very thought. 
 
 " Yes," said Hannah, laughing in her quiet but quick 
 way ; " then all the fat would have been in the fire ; but go 
 on, brother, and tell us how you got on, and why you did 
 not inform on them." 
 
 " How could I ? what could a poor, friendless, unknown 
 boy, like me, do with such desperate men with their pockets 
 full of money? I knew if I said one word, they would 
 have me put in jail under some false accusation in fact, I 
 did not know what to do, and I was afraid of trying to do 
 anything it would only make matters worse. The gentle 
 man gave me a quarter for bringing his things home ; so I 
 said to myself this will buy me a night's lodging. So I 
 slept all night in the same tavern in order that I might 
 watch them. They got drunk and kept it up nearly all 
 night. I got up very early and took my station where I 
 could mark all their movements."
 
 100 MBS. BEN DARBY. 
 
 " Did you see me again ?" asked Elinor. 
 
 " Yes, in the evening, when you were riding in the stage 
 to Richmond ; I was on the outside with the driver. At 
 night, when the moon was shining as bright as day, I 
 peeped in, when the gentlemen were dozing, and saw you 
 turning over the leaves of a little book." 
 
 "Oh, yes! I mind now," said Elinor; "but I did not 
 see you." 
 
 " I didn't intend you should then, Miss Elinor. You 
 staid in Richmond three days, and I was not very far off 
 near enough to watch the folks every time they left the 
 doors. I thought to myself, that I had just as well keep 
 on following them for I knew they would stop s,ome time ; 
 and I thought, too, it was just as well to stay and seek my 
 fortune now, as to go back and begin again for you know, 
 I have got it to make, and the sooner the better." 
 
 "I tell you, brother," said Hannah, "'a rolling stone 
 gathers no moss;' but go on, we have very little time." 
 
 " I came to New York on the same packet-boat with 
 you, Miss Elinor, and when we landed here, as we left the 
 boat, Mr. Darby gave me his portmanteau and cloak, and 
 bade me follow him. I passed along through the crowd, 
 close behind him, and when we reached the hotel I 
 deposited the articles according to order. As he was get 
 ting his purse open he looked at me very hard and said : 
 
 " 'I have seen you before ?' 
 
 " ' Yes, sir.' 
 
 " ' Where ?' 
 
 " 'At Petersburg, sir, and perhaps on the packet- 
 boat.' 
 
 " ' Where are you going ?' said he.
 
 MRS. BEN DAKBV. 101 
 
 "'I am not going anywhere,' said I. 
 
 " ' Do you not belong to this city?' said he 'you look 
 new and verdant.' 
 
 " ' Henceforth, sir,' said I, ' it is my intention to live in 
 a city.' 
 
 " ' Come to find mischief to do, hey?' 
 
 " 'No sir,' said I, ' I hope not.' 
 
 " 'What can you do?' 
 
 " 'Almost anything that is right and decent,' said I. 
 
 " ' I will give you employment in a retail liquor store, if 
 that will suit' you. I like your looks you have nothing 
 sneaking about you.' 
 
 " ' I would not like to be in a liquor store, sir; I have 
 no relish for the business, and I don't want to be in the way 
 of temptation.' 
 
 " ' You are a bigger fool than I took you to be,' said 
 he giving me fifty cents as he said for my trouble and 
 old acquaintance-sake. I did not feel well to take his 
 money, but knew my situation was urgent, and that I must, 
 of course, subdue my feelings and many wants, even to 
 live in such a place and be honest. Just as I turned off 
 from the hotel door, and was looking up and down, won 
 dering at the splendor and show of novelties that presented 
 themselves ' ' 
 
 " Like a cat in a strange garret," said Hannah. 
 
 " Well, while I stood there, some one pulled me by the 
 shoulder and said, ' Halloo ! Theodore, is this you, or is it 
 your ghost ?' and who do you think it was, Miss Elinor?" 
 
 "My papa?" 
 
 "No but Peter Larkins."
 
 102 MRS. BEN DAEBY. 
 
 " Peter Larkins ?" 
 
 "Yes; in New York,! I tell you, Miss, he looked " 
 
 " Natural as a gourd," said Hannah. 
 
 "Was he drunk?" asked the child. 
 
 " Not a bit of it, Miss then he told me he had been put 
 in jail, since we left, and how he had made his escape and 
 was on his way to Ohio, where he intended to reform, and 
 then send for his family. 
 
 " He took me to the house he had stopped at, and we 
 passed the night together. He told me that the gentle 
 men, who had taken you away, were your mother's rela 
 tions, and that no evil could befall you that they were 
 bringing you to your mother; and I am very glad that 
 such was the case ; but still, I know enough to be very 
 certain that they did not have any good motive in stealing 
 you off in the way they did. I told him so but he said we 
 could do nothing now, that we were poor and friendless and 
 it was useless to confront them that I must write back to 
 the Gap and let them know where you are. Poor fellow 1 I 
 felt very sorry for him. He wanted to divide his funds 
 with me, but I would not hear of it. I told him that I was 
 rich in health and strength and could get along. 
 
 "So you like your home, Miss Elinor? how could you 
 help it! everything so fine." 
 
 "Ah ! brother," said Hannah, " appearances are deceit 
 ful all is not gold that glitters this is no place, I tell you, 
 for that child, and the sooner she gets away the better 
 but go on with your story." 
 
 "It is nearly finished. As I stood on the pier looking at 
 the boat in which Peter had taken his passage, a man
 
 MRS. BEN DARBY. 103 
 
 called to me and asked me to take a dog up to the museum 
 for him it was a very queer-looking animal. I carried it 
 up for him, and he gave me a dollar and offered me some 
 thing to drink. I told him I never drank anything strongei 
 than water. ' That 's a fine fellow and if you take my 
 advice, you never will,' said he." 
 
 " I warrant you, he took a little himself," said Hannah; 
 " good preachers give their hearers fruits, not flowers." 
 
 " Yes, I saw him afterward, and he was stumbling along 
 as drunk as a loon,. I expect, he had drank up his dog." 
 
 " That is going the whole dog, brother, is it not?" 
 
 "I should say it was." 
 
 " Tell on, Theodore, you are almost as interesting as 
 Robinson Crusoe!" 
 
 " Oh ! no, Miss Elinor." 
 
 "Yes, but you know, it is not just like it for you could 
 not be put to it so in a city where there are so many 
 things you could not act Robinson Crusoe here." 
 
 " I tell you it is a hundred times harder, children getting 
 along, in a city, than on a desolate island if you believe 
 my racket flesh and blood rubbing against flesh and 
 blood ! I tell you, it is better to be in solitude and alone 
 but finish your story, brother." 
 
 "It is finished," said Theodore. "I found I could get 
 work as a daily laborer, and chance brought me to the 
 building opposite." 
 
 " Not chance Oh ! no not chance, Theodore ; there is 
 no chance it was Providence," cried Elinor, with great 
 earnestness " God watches over tfs God is every 
 where." 
 
 " Yes, children, God is still where he was but say, Mr.
 
 104 MRS. BEN DABBY. 
 
 Theodore, you can tell us something else where do you 
 board?" 
 
 "Oh!" said he, looking down and blushing "boarding 
 is out of the question that is further a-head yet." 
 
 "Well, who eats and washes you?" 
 
 " Nobody eats me, and I wash myself," said Theodore, 
 laughing. 
 
 " But where do you stay ?" 
 
 " I stay about the building all day, and sometimes at 
 night and when I am hungry, I buy something at the 
 stalls to eat." 
 
 " Theodore, you have no home !" said little Elinor, and 
 the tears fell from her eyes. 
 
 "No, Elinor," replied the youth in a low, soft tone 
 "no home no friends!" and his lips quivered with emo 
 tion " I know none here but you, Elinor!" 
 
 " You must not live this way, brother it is not right; 
 after I put Miss Elinor to bed, I will go with you to Green 
 wich street, where you can get quite genteel boarding 
 where you can stay of a night, and not sleep out as you 
 have done." 
 
 " I am so afraid of bad company." 
 
 "You will find folks there like yourself; it is kept by a 
 very decent old woman. She will not have fracases about 
 her ; when servants get out of place, they stay there until 
 they find a new situation." 
 
 " Servants !" said Elinor, with emphasis. " Theodore is 
 no servant; he belongs to one of the first families in Vir 
 ginia." 
 
 "He is a poor young person," returned Hannah, a little 
 piqued, " and has to do the best he can. I tell you, it does
 
 MBS. BEN DAKBr. 105 
 
 mighty little good to belong to a first-rate family, in any 
 place, when one finds themselves in the center of New 
 York, with empty pockets and no rich kin. An ounce of 
 gold is better than a pound of honor." 
 
 "Yes, Miss Elinor," replied Theodore, "Hannah is* 
 right ; I must do the best I can ; but Miss Elinor, you ought 
 to find out where your papa is, and let him hear that you 
 are safe." 
 
 "He would not think she was very secure," said Han 
 nah, "if he knew she was here in this place ; he does not 
 wish her to be with Tier mother ; only just hear them now. 
 What did he take you away for?" she spoke rapidly, but 
 in a low tone " he does not want you corrupted." 
 
 " Mamma will take care of me." 
 
 " She is not capable of taking care of herself," replied 
 Hannah, looking significantly at the youth. 
 
 " Why, Hannah ?" 
 
 " Because she is remarkable weak," replied the girl, 
 winking at Theodore; " sometimes she is so weak she can 
 scarcely walk at all." 
 
 " Then I ought to stay with her and lead her," said 
 Elinor. " Oh ! Theodore, I wish you could see my mam 
 ma ; she is very beautiful." 
 
 " Yes, when she is at herself she is a very nice lady ; 
 but she is very often ill-disposed. I will put this young 
 lady to bed, and then I will go with you, sir." 
 
 " Theodore must come again ; will you not ?" 
 
 " It is just as Hannah says ; I want to do right. I can't 
 say what is proper ; for what is right in one place, may 
 not be so in another." 
 
 "Yes, indeed, you shall come some night when the folks
 
 106 MRS. BEN DAKBY. 
 
 are away; but don't show your face here in daytime, or 
 you will be suspected." 
 
 Elinor was very sorry to part from her old playmate, but 
 felt comforted by the assurance of seeing him again. 
 
 Elinor had not been with her mother three weeks before 
 she became weary of the change. The presence of the 
 child was a check on her usual habits. She drank, it is 
 true, but maternal love and womanly pride withheld her from 
 exposing herself to the pity and contempt of her discrim 
 inating child. Things could not long remain thus ; Mrs. 
 Temple lost, by degrees, the influence of her better feelings, 
 and returned again, with renewed relish and fresh avidity, 
 to her virulent course of conduct. 
 
 The insinuations of Hannah were lost on the .innocent 
 and ingenuous child. She knew that men sometimes be 
 came intoxicated. She had seen, to her great disgust, the 
 preference her mother bestowed on the dissipated Darby. 
 The knowledge of the fact had cost her much, but when 
 she discovered the mystery of her folly, it came on her like 
 a death-stroke ; the fresh buoyancy of childhood was gone, 
 never to return the outgushing joy of youth was pressed 
 back upon the heart. The gentle, yet proud child, was 
 crushed mortified humiliated. 
 
 A drunken woman ! and that woman her mother the 
 wife of her honest, frank, high-minded father. Now she 
 knew how he suffered ; why his cheek was pale ; why his 
 voice trembled. Now she knew all yes, all. 
 
 She had been out with Hannah to the bird-store, and had 
 returned in childish hilarity, with the sweetest bird in the 
 world, and springing lightly into the room, she threw her 
 arms rather rudely around the neck of her mother.
 
 MRS. BEN DARBr. 107 
 
 Mrs. Temple, who had made frequent visits that morning 
 to her china boutelle, was in the land of visions and mental 
 aberrations, almost unable to realize who or where she was. 
 The hearty embrace of little Elinor's vigorous arms, threw 
 her into a violent rage ; she seized her by the throat, and 
 after choking her nearly breathless, she pushed her off 
 with so much force that the child's head struck against the 
 bedstead post, and hurt her very much. 
 
 Hannah rescued the child from her, and administered to 
 her necessities. 
 
 Overcome with excitement, Mrs. Temple threw herself 
 back on the sofa, like a worried hyena. 
 
 Poor little girl ! she turned from the loathsome, degrad 
 ing sight, burying her face in her hands ; her convulsive 
 sobs and bitter tears, told how deeply aggrieved she felt, 
 and how irretrievable her destiny. . 
 
 " What are you sitting there for, Elinor, as if you were 
 screwed to the win-ther ?" said Mrs. Temple, trying in 
 vain to raise herself from her ungraceful attitude; "come 
 here raise the curtain." 
 
 Elinor came close to her. 
 
 " Are you homesick tired already of me ?" 
 
 " No! no, mamma." 
 
 "Whisper, then, love, and tell me why you are discon 
 tented ? you shall tell me I have a right to compel you 
 come, speak out," and Mrs. Temple strung the long curls 
 of the child through her fingers, with as much sang-froid 
 as if she was asking the simplest question in the world 
 " Oh ! how you pucker up your features ; you will spoil 
 your beauty." 
 
 " Beauty is very little account, sometimes, Miss Elinor,
 
 108 MKS. BEN DABBY. 
 
 unless it goes in company with good behavior," said Han 
 nah, letting down one curtain, and drawing up the other 
 with a prophetic vehemence. "Some people preach, but 
 never practice." 
 
 " Come, dear, we will adjourn to the parlor, and let 
 Hannah finish the room." 
 
 " No ! no ! mamma, please stay," cried Elinor, holding 
 her down. " You must not you can't go down." 
 
 " I can't? I would like to see you prevent me. I must 
 go." She raised herself up, and tried to hold by the fur 
 niture. 
 
 " Let her go, Miss Elinor." 
 
 "No! no! mamma have mercy on me, if you have 
 lost all shame for yourself ; the parlor is full of ladies it 
 is such a disgrace." 
 
 " She ain't a-going, dear she shall not," and Hannah 
 passed swiftly before her and closed the door, then turned 
 the key. 
 
 Mrs. Temple, when she found she could not get out, 
 seated herself, and looked very silly. 
 
 " Mamma," cried Elinor, falling on her knee before her, 
 "if you knew how miserable I feel, you never would do so 
 again." 
 
 " I never will strike you again." 
 
 " Oh ! it is not that, mamma I mean drinking." 
 
 " Well, put down the curtains ; don't cry, love ;" Elinor 
 obeyed in fear and trembling ; " there, put it dowel 
 I declare you are the roughest gawk I ever saw, you 
 great mountain pine-knot come to your mamma, dear 
 who has been throobling my darling who has interfered 
 with mamma's wild daisy !"
 
 MRS. BEN DARBT. 109 
 
 "Not I, madam, if you mean me;" said Hannah, jerking 
 up the things which were out of place, "A body's friends 
 sometimes is a body's worst enemies I never put my 
 spoon in other people's platters." 
 
 "My darling," continued the lady, "why are you 
 crying ?" 
 
 " Oh ! my mamma, I feel very unhappy indeed, but I 
 cannot tell you why." 
 
 " But you shall, Miss ; you need not-think I don't know 
 you have been taught to hate me I feel you never will 
 love me." 
 
 " Oh I did love her did I not Hannah ? and I could 
 love you, my own dear mamma, if " 
 
 " That is a little, long, narrow word," said Hannah, in a 
 low tone, " but it takes up a heap of room when it comes in." 
 
 " No doubt, you would have loved me, if you had not 
 been taught better I am sure I have done all I couth 
 to please you but ungraihful people " 
 
 " Oh ! indeed, I am not ungrateful, mamma indeed I 
 am not." 
 
 " Well ! wipe that black place off your face, and look 
 happy and smiling." 
 
 " I can't get it off, mamma." 
 
 " Let Hannah try." 
 
 "It is past Hannah's skill," said the girl, menacingly; 
 "you had better send for the doctor." 
 
 "Why, what is it!" inquired Mrs. Temple, completely 
 bewildered. 
 
 "It is where you struck her, or choked her," said 
 Hannah ; " and mind, if she dies with that on her face, it 
 will be the worse for you."
 
 110 MRS. BEN DAKBI-. 
 
 Mrs. Temple laughed in a horrid, idiotical way, and 
 tapping her fingers on the sofa, as if she was playing on 
 the piano, and faintly muttering, " You certainly all are 
 turned fools," lay back quite motionless. 
 
 The little weeper sat at the window, the tears falling 
 thick and fast. The window was her refuge from per 
 plexity. She could not but forget for a few moments, her 
 own situation, in watching the variety of groups, that pre 
 sented such new and unthought of pictures to the observer. 
 The richly dressed, the flaunting figures which exhibited 
 themselves on the street the wretched, tattered, abject 
 and houseless vagabond, hurrying to and fro, as if pro 
 pelled by some invisible spring the brilliant carriages, 
 rolling up and down Broadway, and the drays and ice 
 carts ; the rich and poor, bond, free, rumbling and tumb 
 ling helter-skelter, knock-me-down crowd, that moved to 
 and fro like a double panorama 
 
 " Miss Elinor," and some one touched her shoulder, 
 " come help me to lay your mother on the sofa, she will 
 slide directly, and break her Grecian nose, as she calls it." 
 
 " Please, Hannah," said Elinor, struggling hard to 
 subdue her emotion, " don't laugh at her, it is so 
 hard." 
 
 " Don't I know how the shoe pinches, Miss Elinor ; I 
 have just sich a mother, only, mine is poor, friendless, and 
 has a poor, weak, degraded husband. Ah ! it is me that 
 can feel for you it is only my way of talking and doing. 
 If I could help it I would but what is bred in the bone 
 will never come out of the flesh." 
 
 " You speak so lightly, Hannah." 
 
 " The truth is, somehow or other I don't know how it
 
 MRS. BKN DABUIT. Ill 
 
 is, but it is so. There are so many feelings mixed up to 
 gether, when you see a person intoxicated, that pity makes 
 a very poor show." 
 
 " But listen, Hannah when that person is your own 
 dear mother ?" 
 
 " Miss Elinor, when you have worried and fretted, and 
 worked, as I have, with the unreasonableness of such 
 folks, your patience will get threadbare but I don't know, 
 you have a softer heart than mine, and you must not stay 
 here until it becomes as hard as a nether mill-stone. Lift 
 up your mamma's foot there, place it on the ottoman 
 there stretch down the dress a little further over the 
 foot. She looks like a bride elect !" 
 
 " What is elect ?" asked the child. 
 
 " Why going to be hand me that vail, dear, to spread 
 over this yawning abyss of punch and wine." 
 
 " Oh, please, Hannah !" 
 
 "Never mind, dear all's well that ends well there 
 now I hope she will sleep until I do all I have to do 
 good saints ! she breathes like an alligator so come, dar 
 ling, let's go up to the Bowery." 
 
 "Mamma said I must not leave the house without her 
 knowledge." 
 
 " She meant by yourself, child." 
 
 "Did she?" 
 
 " Certainly ; you never supposed she intended to keep 
 you like a bird in a cage you went with me this morning, 
 why not this evening what's good for the fish is good for 
 the sauce." 
 
 " I am afraid."
 
 112 MRS. BEN DARBT. 
 
 " Afraid of whom ?" 
 
 " Mamma ; and afraid of doing wrong." 
 
 " You are not in duty bound to mind her ; and be 
 side, she told you we might go out for bird-seed, you 
 know." 
 
 " Oh yes ! she did I will go with you." 
 
 " You must go with me I can't leave you here with 
 your mother in this condition, you are in danger of being 
 murdered only see your poor bruised up face you look 
 as if you had been in a row at the Five-points come, get 
 your hat on, and as it is quite cool out, you must put your 
 mantle on." 
 
 .Little Elinor was so painfully occupied in bitter reflec 
 tions, that she did not pay any attention to the hurry-flurry 
 proceedings of her waiting-maid how quickly she turned 
 the articles of the toilette cramming her basket with 
 brushes, soap, combs, etc. She then gathered up the most 
 valuable articles of the child's wardrobe. Finally, when 
 they got to the door, Hannah said; " Here, Miss, you will 
 have to carry this wallet, it will not hurt you, if you are 
 aristocracy." 
 
 " I wish to help you, Hannah, you are so kind to me 
 but what are you taking such a load for all the brushes 
 and combs ?" 
 
 "He who asks questions," said Hannah, looking very 
 mysteriously at the child, " often hears more than he 
 wants so, dear, keep your mouth shut, and your eyes 
 open." 
 
 " Do tell me, why you are taking the bird-cage 
 out ?"
 
 MRS. BEN DAKBY. 113 
 
 " To air the dear little creature, so come on, love." 
 "This is not the way to the Bowery!" said Elinor, as she 
 turned down Maiden Lane. 
 
 " There are more ways to the gallows than one," re 
 plied Hannah, dragging the child with her down a little, 
 dirty, crowded alley, where they were soon lost in the 
 
 crowd. 
 
 10
 
 114 MRS. BEN DARBY. 
 
 Cluster 11. 
 
 Together thus they shunn'd the cruel scorn 
 Which virtue, sunk to poverty, would meet 
 From giddy passion and low-minded pride. THOMSON. 
 
 ON Abingdon-square, in a dilapidated building, afford 
 ing but little shelter, so frail and decayed that it could 
 scarcely be called a dwelling, sojourned the family of Simon 
 Fairmont. The rooms were scantily furnished, but in the 
 arrangement of the household everything was placed to 
 the best advantage. Some few cherished ornaments on the 
 mantle-piece, souvenirs of the past, and a neat little work- 
 table, with a rocking-chair, remained as attestations of 
 brighter and more prosperous days. 
 
 Mrs. Fairmont had taken very hard lessons of privation 
 and sorrow since the early days of marriage, (such as thou 
 sands have borne). She had passed through many heart 
 breaking scenes, such as would have crushed the heart and 
 spirits had she not learned humility and fortitude of Him 
 who lingered with the woman of Samaria at the well who 
 whispered to Mary that her sins were forgiven, and peace to 
 the Syro-Phoenician heroine, who begged only for the 
 crumbs of his compassion. Every drunkard's wife needs 
 Divine support a double portion. Mrs. Fairmont sought, 
 not only to fulfill her duty, but also those of her husband, 
 as far as she could ; striving to remedy the evils which 
 intemperance was bringing upon her young and growing 
 family ; teaching them lessons of forbearance and content-
 
 MKS. BEN DARBY. 115 
 
 ment/ to lay up treasures in that world where the con 
 temned sojourners of this life find reparation and repose. 
 
 The cruel, inexorable husband was forced to see and feel 
 her superiority; to acknowledge that her life was irreproach 
 able. She trusted in her Savior, and the precepts of his 
 Heavenly doctrine opened in her soul a fountain of living 
 waters. Her religion raised her above the calamities of 
 earth ; although she was now experiencing, among all 
 her other troubles, the ravages of want the pinchings of 
 poverty, and all the horrors which throng, like evil specters, 
 about the dwelling of the confirmed drunkard. Her life 
 had been made up of privations, humiliation, and exertion ; 
 yet never, in all the phases of his wayward career, had she 
 seen one hope of reformation ; but every year added to her 
 grievances, until all hope of a change was banished from 
 her mind. When Fairmont found his wife was getting, as 
 he called it, be-sainted, he raised a terrible scene swore 
 he would break her neck, or else he would break her of 
 that trick. 
 
 One evening he found she had gone to church, and he 
 determined to follow her thither, and see for himself how 
 things were managed. The services were nearly con 
 cluded when he entered. 
 
 The sexton met him at the door, and seeing his 
 condition, would not let him in. He was boisterous, 
 and made great confusion, and was driven off by the 
 officers of the police. He was at home when his wife 
 returned. 
 
 " You talk about late hours," said he, looking daggers 
 at his inoffensive wife. " What do you think of yourself, 
 madam ; now answer me that, will you?"
 
 116 MRS. BEN DARBY. 
 
 She laid her hat off, and seated herself in her usual 
 place, with a calm, unruffled countenance. 
 
 " You are wonderfully composed madam. I suppose 
 you are showing me how Christians can fight the devil : 
 well, madam, if that's your game, we'll see who is master. 
 If you suppose that I will put up with such folly as you are 
 practicing you are mistaken ; do you hear ? Stay at home, 
 madam : do you comprehend me ! 
 
 " I do, sir." , 
 
 " You have that much sense left, hey? Mind, you must, 
 
 in future, stay away from that d d old humbug of a 
 
 church, crying and groaning as if the devil was after you 
 with a long pole. You will stay at home !" 
 
 "Will you stay with me, dear?" 
 
 " I '11 teach you, madam, that my business is my own, 
 and yours is to obey." 
 
 "We will not quarrel, Fairmont. Oh! do not be 
 harsh !" 
 
 "Answer me one question Do you intend to keep up 
 this mummery of praying and shouting?" 
 
 " It is not foolishness leave me, my husband, at least 
 the comfort of worshiping my God in peace !" 
 
 " Do you intend to keep it up?" 
 
 " God being my helper, I will try and do my duty !" 
 
 "And frequent that old musty crowd of groaning 
 hypocrites ?" 
 
 " I most assuredly will," said Mrs. Fairmont, as if driven 
 to sudden resolution. " There is your God !" and she 
 pointed to a decanter which he had emptied "you wor 
 ship it with all the powers of soul and body. Wife, home 
 and children, character and health are all sacrificed to
 
 MRS. BEN DARBY. 117 
 
 appease its demands. You devote all to it leave me, 
 then, the privilege of worshiping my God!" 
 
 " Do you see this?" and he showed her a small rattan, 
 which he madly raised over her head " do you see this?" 
 
 "Yes, Mr. Fairmont but what of it?" 
 
 "Why the next time, madam, you are found in that 
 lying, hypocritical muss, I '11 give you something that will 
 make you shout in good earnest. I '11 see, Mrs. Fairmont, 
 which is the strongest, me or your religion!" 
 
 " Oh, husband !" cried Mrs. Fairmont, pressing her 
 hands to her ears "you are chilling me to the heart!" 
 
 " I '11 do it don't you believe it ?" 
 
 " You think you will ; but I will pray to my heavenly 
 Father, who is in heaven, to soften your heart toward her 
 who has loved you so fondly so truly. Oh ! no ! hus 
 band, you could not strike me!" 
 
 "I could not? By thunder! I'll see who will prevent 
 me?" 
 
 Rushing forward, like a demon, he caught her by the 
 hair, and drawing her down on her knees, was just in the 
 act of striking, when his passion and fury were checked 
 suddenly by spasms, and he fell in convulsions on the floor. 
 
 When Mr. Fairmont began to recover from his indisposi 
 tion, he seemed kinder to his wife. He did not resume the 
 subject of her attendance at church ; but when he was per 
 fectly sober, his wife seated herself by him, and taking his 
 hand, talked to him, in a firm, placid way, of her future 
 expectations, and concluded by telling him that she wanted 
 it perfectly understood, that he was not to interfere with 
 her religious exercises. 
 
 " Whenever you find that it makes me neglect my duties
 
 118 MBS. BEN DARBT. 
 
 at home, or causes me to be less kind and devoted in all 
 things then you may interfere." 
 
 He finally agreed to this, and it was mutually understood 
 that she was to go to church just when she pleased, and 
 where she pleased. 
 
 Fairmont loved his wife ; trusted her implicitly, and so 
 truly did he credit her religious feelings, that he sometimes 
 almost fancied he saw a halo of glory around her head, 
 such as Mary wears in the assembly of the Nativity. 
 
 For the last four years, Mr. Fairmont had quit all busi 
 ness, and spent his whole time in drinking and gambling. 
 Sometimes he had money, and spent it lavishly ; then, 
 for days and weeks, they were suffering the stings of pov 
 erty. 
 
 It was night, and the rain spattered against the windows, 
 shaking the crazy tenement ; and the oft-repeated gusts of 
 wind that blew up from North river, swept round the dwell 
 ing in a perfect storm, shaking the loose shingles from 
 the roof, and shattering the swinging window-blinds. Mrs. 
 Fairmont sat by a small candle-stand, sewing with unabat- 
 ing zeal. She was a few years older than her half-sister, 
 Mrs. Temple ; slight in figure, and delicate complexion. 
 She was pale, and looked fagged with toil. Her auburn 
 hair lay in waves on her smooth forehead ; no wrinkles on 
 her face to tell of the sorrows within a jarring temper, 
 or a broken heart ; but patience and hope, faith and love, 
 by turns, lent life and beauty to her every feature. She 
 worked on. 
 
 " Almost done, mother dear ?" said her daughter, kneel 
 ing before her on a little stool. 
 
 " Almost, Kate."
 
 MRS. BEN DARBY. 119 
 
 " You look so tired, mother ; I wish I could work the 
 button-holes. " Mother, can you sleep while it storms 
 so?" 
 
 " I mean to try, dear." 
 
 " Do you love to hear the rain rattle on the roof?" 
 
 "I used to, when I was a child, and lived at uncle Jef- 
 fy's ; but our roof is too crazy and open. I like to be well 
 sheltered in such weather." 
 
 " There is a pretty stiff gale," said a boy who came in 
 with a load of broken sticks and barrel-hoops a small 
 bundle of fagots to kindle his morning's fire. " See, Kate, 
 I have provided, like Abraham, the materials for a fire, 
 but where is the lamb ?" 
 
 " God will provide it, my son," said the mother. 
 
 " Is papa gone ?" 
 
 "Long ago." 
 
 " And are we to have no supper !" 
 
 " No one needs supper," replied Kate, twining her arms 
 around his neck " we had a late dinner." 
 
 " Yes, and a poor one at that potatoes and tea." 
 
 " You must not grumble, my son ; we are better off now 
 than a good many other people." 
 
 " I should like to see them," said the boy, "just to hear 
 them say how they feel. Where are they, mother ?" 
 
 " Oh ! George, almost everywhere in the city ; in the 
 streets, alleys, parks scattered about on the pavements, 
 on the docks, in the steam-packets, on the Battery, at the 
 Bowery theater, in the hospitals and prisons." 
 
 " Mother, you forgot the old Brewery ; but I am hungry, 
 mother, very hungry. I deserve to have something to eat ; 
 I know I do ?"
 
 120 MRS. BEN DABBY. 
 
 "Why, brother?" 
 
 " Because I might have helped myself, and nobody would 
 ever have been the wiser. Kate, you know old Mrs. Grun- 
 dy, down at the corner ?" 
 
 "That keeps a stall, and has pies and apples to sell? 
 Oh! yes." 
 
 " The same . Just now I was coming by, and she called 
 me, and said, ' George, come here and watch my table, 
 until I go after that man you see standing at the drug- store ; 
 he owes me two shillings ; you are an honest boy, and I am 
 not afraid to trust you.' But oh ! mother, when I looked 
 down on the nice pies, with the red juice peeping out, and 
 the crust, seeming as if it was made with a view to make 
 the mouth water ; I had to think over my prayer, ' lead me 
 not into temptation, but deliver me from evil.' The water 
 came in my mouth, then in my eyes, and my stomach felt 
 as if it had no bottom. I have felt faint and weak ever since." 
 
 " There is a can of milk and a roll in the cupboard, 
 George ; I put it there for Willy ; but, perhaps, he will 
 sleep all night." 
 
 " He might not, mother ; so I will only take half of 
 them." 
 
 " You are right, my son ; never be selfish." 
 
 " Selfish, like father ?" 
 
 " Oh ! George, I did not say that." 
 
 " No, mother, you did not ; he tells me that himself every 
 hour in the day, in everything he says and does." 
 
 "Remember, son, ' honor thy father and mother.'" 
 
 " I can't honor him ; it is impossible," cried the boy, 
 earnestly, "you had just as well tell me to love hunger and 
 pain, or mortification."
 
 MKS. BEN DAKBY. 121 
 
 " Oh ! George !" 
 
 "A man that has the best wife in the world, and chil 
 dren who are willing to do right, and leaves them to starve 
 in poverty and ignorance, must expect to be despised, 
 and " 
 
 " Hush, brother," crie"d the young girl. "You must not 
 talk thus." 
 
 " I will not curse him, but I will speak out. I have borne 
 it as long as I can. As to myself, I don't care that, (and 
 he snapped his fingers,) no, I don't! I can get along; and 
 I will not stay here, idling away my time in waiting on him, 
 and getting nothing but curses and kicks ; it don't pay I 
 have had cuffs and hard words long enough ; and if you, 
 Kate, will wait on mother, and help her, I will put out, some 
 day to seek my fortune." 
 
 " Where will you go, brother ?" 
 
 "Wherever Providence leads me. To see father doing as 
 he does, is killing ; it will kill me that and starvation to 
 gether." 
 
 " George," said his mother, faintly, and still bending over 
 the shirt she was making, " will you leave me ?" 
 
 " Not long, mother, dear ; and I will send you money to 
 buy coffee, which you love so well, and so seldom have ; I 
 know I can get work." 
 
 "I fear bad influences, George." 
 
 " Bad influences !" repeated the son. " I would like to 
 know where I could find worse examples than I find some 
 times at home! If my father could not entice me to drink, 
 who could ? I want you to understand me, mother look 
 at me." 
 
 "She hasn't time, brother." 
 
 11
 
 122 MKS. BEN DARBY 
 
 " I am looking, George." 
 
 " You love me, mother, I know you do. I am old enough 
 to understand affairs. My father will never reform it is a 
 thing impossible ; his treatment to you makes me hate 
 him." 
 
 "I do not hate him, son ; why should you ? it is sinful." 
 
 " Perhaps it is, but I can't help it. Let me go, mother, 
 or my temper will get the better of me, and I may do 
 something rash. Do you know, I have often wished I was 
 
 dead ?" 
 
 f 
 
 " George, you must not talk thus ; it is cruel to me, in 
 deed it is," and the poor mother brushed away a tear. 
 
 " I must leave him the sooner the better, but you shall 
 never regret it. I will live for you, to try and recom 
 pense you for all your toil and affection." 
 
 " My recompense is with Him, who will bestow it if I 
 deserve any ;" her voice was low and faint. She looked 
 with a comfortless heart on the honest face of her high- 
 minded boy, when she reflected on the improbability of, 
 his ever deriving any benefit from home, but her feeble in 
 structions, her sympathy, and advice. She sewed on, but 
 tears were gathering in her eyes, and sad thoughts stirring 
 up the fountain of grief. 
 
 The conversation was interrupted by a heavy step on the 
 sill the slight tap at the door, caused Mrs. Fairmont to 
 start. 
 
 " It is not father," said George, boldly venturing forth 
 to answer the call. 
 
 A bright smile rested on every face, as Henry Temple 
 entered, and seated himself among them. He w* still 
 pale and thin, but looking much better than he did when
 
 
 MRS. BEN DARBY. 
 
 he left the mountains of Virginia. His visits were alwayV 
 a special providence to the wants and interests of the 
 family. Since he had become acquainted with them, he 
 had sought every opportunity to relieve their embarrass 
 ments, and add to their comforts. He found sympathy 
 and strength of purpose, in his intercourse with Mrs. Fair 
 mont ; he learned from her example, lessons conducive 
 and profitable to his happiness. Her troubles and difficul 
 ties were more appalling than his, yet her serenity of 
 mind, and her abiding faith, threw such beautiful rays over 
 the clouds which surrounded her, that he almost envied 
 her instead of pitying her condition. With her he could 
 speak freely of his feelings his plans ; and could ask her 
 counsel, and even her assistance, if necessary. He could 
 trust and rely implicitly on her friendship. Since Mrs. 
 Fairmont became a Methodist, her sister shunned her; 
 they were never congenial, for when an opportunity offered, 
 the former was very apt to use her influence in trying to 
 urge her to reform. Mrs. Temple, of course, rejected her 
 kind suggestions, and as they could not be a comfort to 
 each other, they gradually became estranged. When 
 Mrs. Fairmont became religious, devotedly pious, Mrs. 
 Temple declared she could not, in justice to herself or her 
 friends, associate with Jane, now she had made a fool of 
 herself, by mingling with low characters, and become so 
 enthusiastic as to quit a respectable church, and go where 
 there were no pews sitting with Tom, Dick and Harry, 
 and all that sort of thing. Poor Jane ! she had to walk 
 her lowly way alone and uncared for, by the world, but 
 she never faltered. She knew there was One whose un 
 seen hand led her on ; though the storm darkened and the
 
 124 MKS. BEN DARBY. 
 
 winds gathered, she drew closer and closer, trusting her all 
 to Him who was able to sustain her. 
 
 "Jane, you are looking feeble," said her visitor, "are 
 you not well ?" 
 
 " I feel fatigued I must be more careful;" she smiled. 
 
 " Mother works too closely," said Kate. 
 
 " How can she help it ?" said George. 
 
 " Where is Fairmont ?" asked Mr. Temple. 
 
 "I do not know somewhere ^in the city, I suppose he 
 has been away a great part of his time for the last two 
 weeks." 
 
 " How do you get along, Jane ?" 
 
 " The best I can always looking for better days. You 
 received my note, which was left during your absence ?" 
 asked Mrs. Fairmont. 
 
 " Yes, and a long letter from home, giving me a dis 
 tressing account of the daring adventures of Darby and 
 Fairmont. Now, how deeply your husband was concerned, 
 I cannot tell ; I thought I would see you before I attempted 
 a rescue." 
 
 " I know nothing about their proceedings, only I have 
 seen the dear child Fairmont brought her here on their 
 arrival she remained here while he changed his dress; he 
 then took her " 
 
 " Where in the city, I hope ?" 
 
 " Yes, to her mother." 
 
 " She is still there !" cried he, springing from his seat 
 " my own precious child my all Oh ! Jane, I have not 
 one moment to lose." 
 
 ."I suppose, Henry, you know that Mary and Darby are 
 to be married shortly ?"
 
 MRS. BJSN DABBY. 125 
 
 " Of course I have thought so for some time. Well, be 
 it so but my child, Jane I must rescue her. I will re 
 turn in an hour or so, and let you know how we get on." 
 As Temple left the house, he whispered to George to 
 follow him. 
 
 " Your mother is looking very feeble, George," said 
 he; " she has been living, I fear, poorly; that must not be; 
 take this and have her a comfortable supper to morrrow I 
 will attend to your comforts more fully." George was 
 glad to obey, and with a bounding step, he sought his old 
 friend, Mrs. Grundy, and was trembling with excitement, 
 lest the tempting pies had gone the way of all pies, before 
 he could have the felicity of demolishing at least one of 
 them. While they were rejoicing over a good supper, 
 Temple was rolling down Broadway in an omnibus." 
 
 He did not know exactly where Mrs. Temple boarded ; 
 she had lately changed her residence so frequently, to 
 avoid disgrace and exposure, which was rapidly following 
 her up, despite of all her precautions. 
 
 He called first at one fashionable hotel then another, until 
 almost wearied with anxiety and suspense, he paused at 
 the corner of one of the streets entering Broadway, to 
 collect his thoughts and compose his agitation. He was 
 standing immediately before one of the hotels of high re 
 pute, looking intently on the crowd passing to and fro, 
 when he felt some one touch his arm, and turning abruptly, 
 he saw a lad who seemed hurried and agitated. It was 
 Theodore Harper, but Mr. Temple did not recognize him. 
 He was surprised and astonished when he discovered who 
 he was, and that he had it in his power to inform him 
 of Mrs. Temple's present abode, and other very startling
 
 126 MRS. BEN DAKBY. 
 
 facts, of which he was ignorant. The opposite hotel, it 
 seemed, was in some excitement, at the strange circum 
 stances which had occurred. It appeared from Theodore's 
 statement, that little Elinor had been decoyed away from 
 home by some unknown means, and had not been heard 
 of for nearly two days. Her mother and friends were in 
 great distress and consternation, and were using every 
 means to find out her place of concealment, but all to no 
 effect. This intelligence was horrible and embarrassing to 
 Mr. Temple. He went with Theodore to the house, and 
 made a diligent and earnest investigation. Mrs. Temple 
 was not at home, but the proprietor of the establishment 
 corroborated the account he had just heard, but could give 
 him no satisfaction on the subject. Mr. Temple was in one 
 of those dilemmas, which seemed to have no outlet. He 
 asked question after question, made one suggestion after 
 another, to no effect. He finally determined to secure 
 Darby, and force him to produce the child, as he could 
 prove, beyond the shadow of a doubt, that he had stolen 
 her from the asylum where he had placed her. 
 
 He began even to waver in this resolution when he 
 ascertained, by further inquiry, that Mr. Darby was totally 
 ignorant of Elinor's place of concealment, and had been, 
 and was still actively engaged in using means to find out 
 where she was, and those who had beguiled her away. 
 
 Mr. Darby, it seems, from facts gathered from the gossip 
 of the hotel, had cast suspicion on Mrs. Temple's maid ; 
 but as Hannah Reeves was punctual at her post of duties, 
 and had never been missing, nothing could be proved 
 against her. She was, it is true, unusually silent, but if 
 possible, more nervous and restless than ever sarcastic
 
 MBS. BEN DARBT. 127 
 
 and proverbial in the extreme. Her manner, when 
 questioned, was such as to silence rather than encourage 
 her inquisitors. 
 
 "And is' there not enough vagabond thieves in the city, 
 that make it their business and calling to steal young-ones ? 
 Must it be laid on an honest girl, who has poor brothers 
 and sisters enough, suffering for food and raiment, without 
 hunting up the rich and the proud ? Let me tell you, Mr. 
 Darby, it takes a rogue to catch a rogue no doubt, you 
 will find her you had better look to yourself heaven takes 
 care of its own" 
 
 " But the child was seen with you last, Hannah," said 
 Mrs. Temple, in great agitation. 
 
 "Who saw her?" asked the girl, looking with dignified 
 assurance at her mistress " the one that saw her last 
 ought to know where she is." 
 
 "She left the house with you, Hannah," said Mrs. 
 Temple. 
 
 " Well, ma'am, who says she left it with me, the last 
 time ? I am sure, ma'am, you can't say so -for to my best 
 knowledge, you have no right even to suppose it, being as 
 you could not, for your life, tell a hawk from a hand-saw, 
 and am equally certain, that I never left the print of my hand 
 on her throat neither did I kick her or bruise her neither 
 
 was I " the last word reached only the ear for which 
 
 it was intended " so have me up, if you please, ma'am, 
 and accuse me of stealing her do it just as soon as you 
 please I am ready. I should like to go before the court 
 I have my defense ready 'a short horse is soon curried.' 
 .1 should like to go, ma'am I think I see myself there 
 now I could soon settle the hash. Stealing the dear
 
 128 MRS. BEN DARBY. 
 
 child ! as if I did not have trouble enough of my own with 
 out craving other people's." 
 
 Mrs. Temple and Darby were both actually silenced 
 by her vehement and boisterous defense, and she walked 
 off with a very innocent face and quite an independent 
 air. She had never made her appearance since. 
 
 Mr. Temple, not knowing what to do, proposed to Theo 
 dore to return to Abingdon Lyceum, in order to see Fair 
 mont, hoping to find out some clue by which he might 
 secure Darby or recover the child. He preferred accom 
 plishing the latter, if possible, without interfering with his ad 
 versary. As he and Mrs. Temple Avere on the eve of being 
 married, he did not wish to be, in any way, suspected of 
 molesting them ; in fact, he did not desire to be mixed up 
 in the affair at all. Darby was a person with whom he did 
 
 not feel disposed, under any circumstances, to confer 
 
 all he desired or sought was the recovery of his darling 
 Elinor, and he was almost incapable of acting from nervous 
 excitement and terrifying suspense. 
 
 Mrs. Fairmont was still sewing, and awaiting anxiously 
 the return of her friend, hoping to hear that he had found 
 Mrs. Temple and secured his child. 
 
 Scarcely had Mr. Temple finished his exciting facts, 
 when a loud noise was heard at the door, as if it had been 
 shaken from its hinges then heavy steps and thumps 
 down went a broken chair, and Fairmont, with his clothes 
 wet, his face disfigured and red as an autumn sun, came 
 blundering in. He held a bundle in one hand, and his old 
 threadbare bandanna pocket-handkerchief dangled corner- 
 wise from the other. 
 
 " Dog on the old, infernal shanty ! Can't you keep the
 
 MRS. BEN DARBY. 129 
 
 old, bow-legged chairs out of a man's way? or do you 
 keep them on purpose to bark a body's shins? The old, 
 rickety things are not fit for a gentleman's house so here 
 goes !" 
 
 Down went one chair upon another until every unoccu 
 pied one was piled in the center of the room. 
 
 " Come here, Kate, by golly ! you shall cut a swell and 
 outshine the best of them. Huzza for Simon Fairmont ! 
 the favorite of fortune and, madam, your most humble 
 servant to command until death !" 
 
 " Husband, come sit down and compose yourself here 
 is Harry come to see us." 
 
 "Yes, and everybody will be coming to see us now, 
 Jane. We will show the folks how the generous millionaire 
 lives if we don't make them stare my name 's Haines ! 
 ha! ha!" He laughed with such hearty good-will, that 
 his hearers could scarce refrain from joining in chorus. 
 " I wish I may be screwed up into a cocked hat, if I don't 
 make the aristocracy tremble ! We '11 tell them the time 
 of day and no mistake ! hey, George ! Roll yourself out 
 and kindle a fire in the stove stir out and drum up a sup 
 per here, in quick time a jam-up, regular fancy ball 
 doings! none of your poverty-stricken, wishy-washy, 
 cabbage-leaf soup, but genuine crab, scrambled eggs, sau 
 sage and apple dumplings ! and look here, George Wash 
 ington Fairmont, don't forget the one thing needful," added 
 he, with a mystical turning up of his fist to his mouth. 
 
 George walked off solemnly, as if to perform the orders to 
 a letter, but hid himself behind the arm-chair of his mother. 
 Mr. Fairmont swayed up and down the room in a storm 
 of excitement, gathering up everything that presented itselt
 
 130 MRS. BEN DARBY. 
 
 to his attention and piled them up in the room where he 
 had thrown the chairs. Sometimes he would wink at Mr. 
 Temple snap his finger at Kate then stop, and gaze very 
 lovingly at his wife. 
 
 It was very unusual for him to be so very pleasant, and 
 his family were astonished at his humors. His wife begged 
 him to sit down and be quiet, for Mr. Temple wished to 
 speak to him on some very urgent business. 
 
 He made her no answer, but walked up to the work- 
 table, and taking up the work-box and basket pitched them 
 to the far end of the room, and snatching the costly piece of 
 work out of her hands, which had for weeks stolen the 
 health from her cheeks, wadded it up in a knot and holding 
 it to the lamp, set it on fire and threw it blazing into the 
 fire-place. 
 
 " Jane ! Mrs. Fairmont !" cried the reckless madman, 
 gazing wildly on the composed face of his wife, " no man 
 but myself, shall have the benefit of your of your ser 
 vices but myself, henceforth and forevermore ! do you 
 hear me me, madam ? no man shall wear shirts of your 
 manufactory Temple, you bear witness !" 
 
 " Fairmont," said the latter, drawing him to a chair, 
 " for shame how can you torment Jane so mercilessly ? 
 one so faithful, and so loving, and so just." 
 
 " What am I doing ? Only about to relieve her of all 
 her troubles, ezcept myself." 
 
 " You are acting like a madman." 
 
 " I want Jane to understand me ; for the future we must 
 take a more elevated stand. No, by golly! Temple, we will 
 have no more shifting no more pinching and eking to 
 keep soul and body together ; but you, madam, shall ride
 
 MRS. BEN DARBY. 131 
 
 in your coach, and have a pew in Trinity Church ! instead 
 of walking in old rubber shoes to that low, nasty chapel on 
 Mulberry street." 
 
 " Fairmont, for mercy's sake, tell me what you are mak 
 ing all this to do about ?" 
 
 " Why, Jenny, my love, your prayers have gone up the 
 right way for once !" 
 
 " Oh ! Mr. Fairmont, do be reasonable." 
 
 "I never was more so in my life. Jane, I have the 
 greatest news to tell ; it will make the hair on your head 
 crack like a wagon-whip. Jane, don't you think, that old 
 sea-dog of an uncle of yours, old Jeffy, has died at last, 
 and left a million of dollars ! More than half of it is yours ; 
 Jane, do you hear me ?" 
 
 "Oh ! not dear uncle Jeffy ?" cried Mrs. Fairmont, clasp 
 ing her hands." 
 
 " Yes, indeed, old uncle Jeffy ; the most precious old 
 relative that ever died. Halloo, Jane ! don't go to to act 
 the fool, crying because your uncle has died, and left you 
 his heiress for shame ! you ungrateful baggage !" 
 
 "You never knew him and loved him as I did," said 
 she, quivering with emotion. 
 
 " I love him now, Jane I honor him. I tell you what ! 
 I am going to reform join the temperance society, and 
 settle down, like folks ; and Jane will find out at last that 
 she has a jewel of a husband. We will send Kate to Troy, 
 and George to West Point, to learn to be a general ; and 
 we will walk up and down Broadway every bright day. 
 How will that please you ? Huzza for Simon Fairmont ! 
 They may all go to the devil with their aristocracy. 
 Shake hands, Temple ; why, man, Mrs. Fairmont is worth
 
 132 MRS. BEN DARBY. 
 
 a half a million, and you, Temple, are appointed his 
 executor." 
 
 " Fairmont, you are drunk !" *-'; 
 
 " Not as much so as you think. Here, Temple here 
 are the precious documents. Jane, do hush up ; it is all 
 gammon to be weeping, because your kind, considerate uncle 
 died, and left you rich. I swear ! I could not squeeze out 
 a tear if it was for my life. Oh ! Jenny, you are an angel 
 in woman's clothing. All right, Temple you are a kind 
 of judge hey ?" 
 
 "Yes, Jane, Fairmont is telling you the truth ; here is a 
 letter with an account of his death and burial, and a copy 
 of his will ; he died at Boston." 
 
 " Yes, it is all a fact, Jane ; the dear old alligator has 
 not remembered me in his last will and testament ; the old 
 son of a tinker has not left me one darn cent that I can 
 finger, only what Jane pleases to give me ; but Jane is a 
 glorious woman !" 
 
 " Fairmont," said Temple, laying his hand on his shoulder, 
 "you will reform; you said so just now. Are you in earnest?" 
 
 "I am, by golly, after this week!" 
 
 " Say this moment, and make your wife happy as well as 
 independent." 
 
 " No, I will taper off with one grand spree, and then - 
 and then, Mrs. Fairmont, I will be yours to command." 
 
 It was some time before Mr. Temple could bring his 
 business to a close with Fairmont. The sudden and unex 
 pected good fortune had nearly turned his wits, and it was 
 almost impossible to prevail on him to listen to the inquiries 
 of Mr. Temple. At last he let out the whole affair. He 
 gave him a full account of their adventures, and was very
 
 MRS. BEN DARBY, 133 
 
 careful to lay all the blame on Darby. He, it appears, had 
 been hired to assist in the abduction. Mr. Temple could 
 not think of prosecuting him on account of his family not 
 that he felt in any degree lenient toward him, but the chil 
 dren would suffer disgrace and humiliation, and they had 
 already so many evils and mortifications, that he resolved 
 to spare them. His thoughts now turned to Darby ; he 
 must seek and push him to extremities. Fairmont offered 
 to accompany them. 
 
 They left the house, and Mrs. Fairmont and her chil 
 dren were left again alone yes, alone, but not friend 
 less or poverty-stricken. She looked for a moment on their 
 bright and glowing faces ; the next moment their arms 
 were linked about each other's necks, and silently they 
 sank upon their knees, in prayer and thanksgiving to Him, 
 who, in the plenitude of his mercy had inclosed them 
 around as with a hedge. 
 
 "Oh ! mother, you will never know the bitterness of pov 
 erty again," said Kate, wiping the tears from her cheek. 
 
 " Nor shall I have to leave you, mother, fading and dying 
 with penury ; and dear Kate will be educated like a lady." 
 
 "And perhaps," said Kate, in a low whisper, " it may 
 reform Pa." 
 
 " Never, sister ; never !" 
 
 "Hush, my son, let us strive to be humble and patient." 
 
 " Just to think, mother, how happy we shall be never 
 to hunger again." 
 
 " Never to shiver with cold, or blush on account of our 
 rags." 
 
 " No one will dare pity us now," said George, looking 
 the picture of self-esteem, " they will not point at us, and
 
 134 MRS. BEN DARBY. 
 
 say, ' They are nice children; it is a pity their father drinks,' 
 or, ' George, your beast of a father is in the kennel ; if you 
 don't want the hogs to eat him, you'd better be after rous- 
 tering him.' If he will drink, mother, we will have him 
 do it at home ; we will not trouble the watch to bring 
 him in of a night ; we will give him a good, faithful servant 
 to watch over him." 
 
 " And Oh ! mother, dearest, only to think you will not 
 have to sew to buy tea and potatoes," said Kate, resting 
 her flushed cheek on the calm brow of her mother. 
 
 " Nor earn money for father, for he always tries to get 
 all our poor earnings ; but would it not be such unheard-of 
 happiness, if fortune could only buy respectability as well 
 as food and raiment? Sister! mother! how willingly would 
 we give the last red copper to reform him how willingly 
 would I tread the dark, low vale of poverty and obscurity, 
 if I could take my father by the hand, and say, my father, 
 the kind husband of my mother. As it is, among the splen 
 dor and affluence to which fortune may bring us, the 
 thought that he is what he is a drunkard will rankle in 
 my heart like a thorn." 
 
 " My son ! no more of this, it is wrong ; we must endea 
 vor to be thankful and happy." 
 
 The mother silently leaned upon the shoulder of the agi 
 tated boy, and Kate kneeled before them. 
 
 Ah ! how the cruel conduct of that reckless devotee of 
 intemperance had drawn those hearts together. The mo 
 ther, like a tutelar angel, had warded off the influence of 
 his evil course, and by her example of resignation and her 
 precepts of virtue and forbearance, had led them on, thus 
 far, unscathed.
 
 MRS. BKN DABBY. 135 
 
 There are many such martyrs in this world, wearing out 
 by piecemeal on the thorny rugged path that intemperance 
 marks out for its victims. The husband drinks on, and for 
 gets his duties and his sorrows ; but she, who lingers on 
 with him in defiance of all, toils and suffers until her brain 
 is racked, and her heart weary and faint. But there is One 
 who marks every sigh who sees every tear that falls, and 
 in the day He comes to make up his jewels, she will be 
 found by the angel of the covenant, and placed in the 
 crown of the king of glory. 
 
 When Mr. Temple left the house in Abingdon-square, 
 he dispatched Fairmont, with two police officers, in search 
 of Darby. 
 
 They returned with information that no intelligence had 
 been received of the child, and that Mrs. Temple had left 
 her boarding-house that morning, and had departed with 
 her baggage as for a long journey, having been but a few 
 moments united in the holy bands of matrimony to her 
 cousin. They were, therefore, together. 
 
 Suspicion had at first fallen upon Hannah Reeves, but as 
 she so stoutly denied all participation in the affair, and 
 seemed ready to baffle the assertions, by making some very 
 embarrassing statements in regard to the treatment which 
 the little girl had received from her mother, it made iton the 
 part of the lady, very hazardous, and crippled the efforts 
 made to discover the child. 
 
 Mr. Temple, as a last, and almost hopeless effort, deter 
 mined to see the girl, and have a full investigation of the 
 matter as far as she was concerned. 
 
 With a view to this he made inquiries as to the character 
 and general conduct of the girl. She bore a good name in
 
 136 MRS. BEN DARBST. 
 
 the hotel where she had been employed. All who knew 
 her gave her a character free from taint of any kind. Her 
 father was very intemperate the family miserably poor 
 and wretched, both in a moral and physical position. Han 
 nah, and her eldest brother, who was her junior, kept the 
 family from utter starvation by their industry and steady 
 adherence to honesty and propriety. The father had be 
 come so worthless that he could scarcely earn means 
 enough to supply the mother and himself with rum.
 
 MRS. BEN DARBT. 137 
 
 How use doth breed a habit in a man. SHAKSPEARE. 
 
 IN an alley opening into Leonard street, stood a low, 
 dark, crazy tenement. The windows were not only desti 
 tute of glass, but the sashes were broken and disjointed, 
 the doors were dislodged from their hinges, and propped up 
 with half-burned planks. The sills had all rotted away, 
 and stones and oyster-shells filled up the chasm between 
 the floor and the entrance. The roof was shattered, and 
 trembled on its decayed rafters, worm-eaten, and " mossed 
 with age," and crusted with the soot and smoke of years. 
 All around the miserable doorway was filth, and all within 
 was penury and want the most revolting degradation. 
 The scaled and battered walls, smeared and begrimed 
 floors, the tottering partition, the caved hearth, filled with 
 all kinds of offal, told a tale of human suffering, human 
 frailty, and brutal association. 
 
 A faint light issued from the half-closed door. This 
 was the abode of John Reeves, the father of Hannah. The 
 family occupied the lower room, an old rickety bedstead, 
 the long posts of which nearly crossed each other, at the 
 top, occupied one corner of the room, with coverings which 
 no human ingenuity could describe, from casual observa 
 tion. Part of a quilt of the ancient, but well remembered 
 combination, styled 'nine patch,' hung down at the foot, to 
 conceal the squalid nest beneath, composed of rags, shav-
 
 138 MRS. BEN DARBT. 
 
 ings, and old newspapers, worked into the consistency of 
 half-dried paste. A broken stove, yellow with rust, its 
 doors all gone or burned out, stood nearly in the middle 
 of the floor, and was covered with ashes and grease. A 
 few chairs, all crippled, or uneasily resting on dislocated 
 members ; a wheelbarrow without a back, and only one 
 leg, was propped up in one corner, to serve as a cradle. 
 It was the only utensil of industry which remained as a 
 relic of other days. An old greasy table, completed the 
 inventory of household movables. 
 
 A woman about forty years of age, with purple lips and 
 maudlin eyes, loathsome and disagreeable in the extreme, 
 sat rocking a wailing diseased infant to and fro, with a 
 violence and petulance, ill adapted to its strength and 
 frame, and which seemed to have no soothing in its ad 
 ministration, if one might judge from its aggravated cries. 
 Several ragged boys and girls were squatted about the bed, 
 amazed and bewildered by the figures which filled up the 
 doorway. 
 
 " Does John Reeves live here ?" asked Mr. Temple, ad 
 dressing the woman, who appeared unconscious of his 
 presence. 
 
 " He takes his grub here, when he can git it," replied 
 the woman gruffly, " but it ain't often he gits any." 
 
 " Where is he ?" asked Mr. Temple. 
 
 " You don't expect me to answer that question you 
 can't be so onreasonable that is, if so be you know him 
 and his ways I never knows where he is, unless he is 
 drunk and at home I never goes to look after him it 
 ain't to be expected." 
 
 " He drinks hard, hey?" asked Fairmont.
 
 MBS. BEN DARBY. 139 
 
 "An' he does that very thing." 
 
 " That is a bad business it is well you keep sober, Mrs. 
 Reeves, in order to take care of the children." 
 
 " Keep sober !" cried she, tossing her baby up in her 
 arms, and shaking it nearly breathless to keep it from 
 screaming to the 'top of its bent,' "and who says to the 
 contrary ? I should like for them to tell me so to my face 
 I am a decent woman, sir, and should like to know what 
 the men folks are after here I am sure we troubles no 
 one." 
 
 " You have a daughter who lives out is she at home, 
 or has she found a new situation ?" 
 
 " No, she just went out to hunt up something to eat ; 
 for it is very little that John Reeves brings into this house 
 but rum and black looks." 
 
 " So the girl is kind and good ?" asked Temple. 
 
 "The best sort if it was not for her and Charley, I 
 don't know where I should have been by this time." 
 
 " May be in heaven," said Fairmont, " who knows ?" 
 
 "And why not ? I am sure I have as good a right as 
 any one," replied Mrs. Reeves, loudly. 
 
 " I beg pardon I am sure I have no objection, provided 
 you leave your ill-manners behind." 
 
 " Fairmont, be quiet," said Temple, " and don't pro 
 voke her. Mrs. Reeves," continued he, addressing the 
 irritated woman, " I have some business with your daugh 
 ter, and " 
 
 "I am here," cried Hannah, hastily entering, and placing 
 a loaf of bread and a pitcher of milk on the table, " to 
 answer for myself what is the fracas now ?"
 
 140 MRS. BEN DARBY. 
 
 " I have come to see, if you know anything about the 
 removal of Elinor Temple ?" 
 
 " And you come again, to taunt me about the child 
 stealing a child!" cried she, fiercely tearing the children one 
 by one from the food, which she had placed on the table, 
 which they gathered about like so many starved rats. " I 
 said again and again, that I have not stolen her may -be 
 you would like to search well do it, and welcome. Don't 
 you see I have enough trouble, without loading me down ? 
 and even if I did know where she is, what of it ? I would 
 die before I would tell. And as for you, Mr. Fairmont, 
 you will not get her again, I can tell you you stole her 
 once from her dear blessed home, and brought her to be 
 buffeted and kicked about by an inhuman mother. Why, 
 Theodore, what are you after ? bless me ! I did not know 
 you here, take this chair I am so glad to see you." 
 
 " Never mind sitting down, Hannah, I have not time 
 this is Elinor's father, Hannah he has come here, in hopes 
 of hearing some news of poor little Miss Temple he is 
 nearly dead with anxiety and suspense." 
 
 " Her father her own father ?" 
 
 " Yes, you may be sure." 
 
 " You are sure ?" 
 
 " Elinor would tell you it is he where is she Hannah, 
 do you know ?" 
 
 " Oh yes, I know well enough and if this is her father, 
 circumstances alter cases I did not steal your child, sir 
 I never dreamed of it but I put her in a safe place, be 
 cause they tried to bribe me to decoy her off, so that Mr. 
 Fairmont there, could not take her from her mother, as he
 
 MRS. BEN DARBY. 141 
 
 had threatened to do. I am so glad, sir, that you have 
 come at last to see her, and take her away. Send those 
 men away, and I will go with you to her lodgings." 
 
 Fairmont and the officers left the house and awaited 
 their return at the corner of the street. Hannah lighted a 
 small lamp and requested Mr. Temple and Theodore to 
 follow her. She passed through the back door and crossed a 
 narrow, dirty yard, whose noxious effluvia was not only 
 sickening to the senses, but appalling to the mind. Mr. 
 Temple shuddered when he thought of his child being 
 daily exposed to such an atmosphere, and trembling with 
 fatigue and anxiety, he followed the girl up a narrow, tot 
 tering stairway, which was propped by slender pieces of 
 rotten scantling. 
 
 Hannah passed up first and held the light below, as the 
 rest mounted alternately. As Hannah entered the room, 
 she was greeted by a voice whose every tone fell like life 
 and balm upon the feelings of the anxious father. The 
 next moment his child was folded in his arms, and for a 
 time, all his sorrow? were forgotten. 
 
 Mr. Temple found himself in a small room, but as neat 
 as wax a nice bed with a white covering and fringed 
 curtains a polished table in the center of the room, 
 with a bright lamp a few books of genteel appear 
 ance, and a sweet fresh, bouquet in a large tumbler, were 
 the first objects which he noticed, after he had embraced 
 his child. The change from filth and pollution to purity 
 was so sudden and unlooked-for, that the contrast was 
 irresistible. 
 
 "How nice Mrs. Martin keeps everything!" said Han 
 nah to Theodore; " 'cleanliness is the handmaid of virtue/
 
 142 MRS. BEN DARBT. 
 
 Then turning to Elinor, she said : " Where is Aunty Martin, 
 dear?" 
 
 " She is gone to Canal-street to buy some buttons for a 
 vest." 
 
 Things became gradually quiet, and Hannah informed 
 Mr. Temple of the proceedings of Mrs. Temple, since the 
 arrival of Elinor, and the conduct of Darby during the last 
 days that she spent in the hotel. Mr. Darby had, it 
 appeared from Hannah's statement, tried to bribe her to 
 decoy the child away and meet him with her on the Bat 
 tery, where he would come prepared to take charge of her. 
 The reason he gave was this Fairmont had threatened to 
 take her back to her father, in order to force Darby to pay 
 him for his assistance in bringing her to the city. He was 
 determined to make them fulfill their contract, which 
 Darby was equally disposed to overlook. Hannah had 
 been offered a very tempting reward to do as she had been 
 requested, but her principles were too sterling to bend to 
 the designs of others, and although nothing but a poor, 
 insignificant servant, she had a noble heart. She had 
 penetration, too, enough to discover that something was in 
 agitation, she could not tell exactly what, but fearing it 
 might result in evil to Elinor, she resolved to put her out 
 of their reach. As her resources were limited and her 
 acquaintances restricted to a certain class, she was com 
 pelled to do the best she could under the circumstances. 
 Darby was very desirous that the child should be brought 
 away without Mrs. Temple's knowledge. Hannah deter 
 mined that she would outwit them all. She listened with 
 patience to Mr. Darby's arrangements, but did not acqui 
 esce. She asked a good many questions, but before there
 
 MRS. BEN DARBY. 143 
 
 was an understanding between them, Mrs. Temple rang 
 her bell and Hannah readily obeyed the summons, glad of 
 an excuse to leave matters uncompromised. That after 
 noon she took Elinor to Mrs. Martin's. 
 
 "Who is Mrs. Martin?" asked Mr. Temple. 
 
 " Oh, sir ! don't you remember the lady that nursed Miss 
 Elinor, when she was a baby?" 
 
 " Yes, she was a very young widow." 
 
 "And is again one," said Hannah ; " both her husbands 
 killed themselves with rum. She has been in the habit of 
 sewing for Mrs. Temple that is the way we became 
 acquainted. She has lived here a good while, in perfect 
 retirement. She is a very excellent person, and I knew 
 you would be willing to pay Miss Elinor's board, as Mrs. 
 Martin is quite poor and depends on her labor for her 
 support." 
 
 Mrs. Martin returned, and matters were soon arranged 
 for the removal of Elinor, who had listened as if in a trance 
 to all that had been said and done one hand in her 
 father's, the other clasped by Theodore. She was the liv 
 ing picture of trust and fond reliance. 
 
 Mrs. Martin received ample remuneration for the trou 
 ble and care she had bestowed on her young boarder. 
 Hannah tied on her little blue bonnet and mantle ; Mrs. 
 Martin smoothed the wrinkles from her black silk apron 
 and kissed "her dear, little face," as she called it. 
 
 Her friends both promised to visit her in a few days, 
 and she soon found herself in an omnibus on her way to 
 her father's residence. 
 
 "Where is Theodore, papa?" asked Elinor, as she found 
 herself on the pavement " Theodore ! Theodore !"
 
 144 MKS. BEN DAKBY. 
 
 " I certainly thought lie was with us I meant he should 
 return home with us. Well, well, we will see him in the 
 morning he is a noble little fellow and must be taken 
 
 o 
 
 care of he will make a man some of these days." 
 
 " Yes, papa, he is so good !" 
 
 " Well, love, we will have him home with us, in the 
 morning," and Mr. Temple led his little daughter up the 
 marble steps of his stately mansion. 
 
 Elinor was soon asleep in her father's house ; the assur 
 ance of having Theodore always with her at her own 
 home, made her almost forget the huge shadow that lay 
 across the threshold a drunken mother ! Pause, thou 
 votary of the bottle ! the cup in thy hand holds the tears 
 of the innocent and the curses of thy own conscience ! 
 Dash it down ! trample it beneath thy feet ! Earth has no 
 greater evil, nor life a more damning malediction !
 
 MRS. BEN DABBY. 145 
 
 Copter 13. 
 
 Weep not for those whom the Tail of the tomb, 
 In life's happy morning hath hid from our eyes, 
 
 Kre sin threw a blight o'er the spirit's young bloom, 
 
 Or earth hath profaned what was born for the skies. MOOSE. 
 
 THE civilized world assents to the fact that intemperance 
 is a curse upon society that the habitual drunkard is a 
 clog upon social life. Like the upas, he stands alone, and 
 all who venture within his atmosphere are blighted 
 withered, and accursed. The dark and unholy path of the 
 destroyer is studded with monuments of human ruin, whose 
 pinnacles are too high, and epitaphs too emblazoned, to 
 evade even the eye of the sensualist, recording the terrify 
 ing history of those who moulder beneath ; over whose sad 
 graves, fathers, mothers, brothers and children ever pour 
 the sweet and bitter memories of undying affection upon 
 the crumbling ruins of beloved hearts, which they had 
 made their household altars, and upon them had offered % up 
 the myrrh and frankincense of a holy sacrifice. And on 
 these gloomy mounds of human devastation and self-destruc 
 tion does Genius crape her brow, for a bright, aspiring son, 
 struck down in his proud career as the heaven-winged 
 eaglet, when he sweeps too near the earth, falls by the 
 fiery missile of the fowler. 
 
 In every part of the globe exists this melancholy expe 
 rience ; and on every spot of earth is this record spread 
 
 wide open for the perusal and admonition of all. Surely, 
 13
 
 146 MBS. BEN DABBY. 
 
 then, no new appeal or argument can be expected from any 
 quarter in behalf of the temperance cause ; its advocates 
 are everywhere their efforts and struggles have, in a mea 
 sure, improved the moral condition of every vineyard. Its 
 champions in every battle-field have waged war with all 
 the weapons that the powers of human reason could 
 wield. The soul of man is endowed with attributes of am 
 ple dignity for the control and adornment of his physical 
 conformation. His Maker has ordained that his mind, in 
 its essence, is an exhalation of His own imperishable, all- 
 pervading intelligence. It follows reason, then, that all 
 the higher qualities of every man, though he may be 
 pinched by penury, or clad in tatters, are a part of God 
 himself. 
 
 In the economy of nature He has also offered fit food 
 for this deathless principle. It is the proud privilege of his 
 immortality to study the wants, the rights, the spirits and 
 passions of men ; to facilitate their enjoyments the exer 
 cise and restraint of each. Over these wants, these impa 
 tient and cherished rights over the swelling spirits over 
 these burning, bounding passions of men, this mind may 
 erect an empire invisible, save only in its effects, which 
 shall restrain to obedience the erring, the unwarranted 
 assumptions and oppressions of the mightiest of fellow- 
 beings. To this influence of mind over mind of feeling 
 over feeling, is assigned the task of relieving poignant suffer 
 ings ; of elevating the degraded to the level of self-respect 
 and respectable association of creating in communities a 
 moral tone, which shall reflect from the mirror of society the 
 image of the Gospel; of informing and moulding the rising ge 
 neration into a mighty, virtuous posterity. This power and
 
 MRS. BEN DARBT. 147 
 
 influence is the effect of various means : from example, 
 present sympathy from contact, through the senses, and 
 often by familiarity, with the evil or the pure. One-half of 
 our susceptibilities are blunted by the very force of the con 
 stant recurrence of revolting scenes. I could here branch 
 off into speculations upon reformation to support or refute 
 the opinion, " that no human being can be thoroughly 
 reformed except through the channel of an enlightened con 
 science ; that the revolting spectacle and consequences of 
 intoxication are results of the same principle, which produce 
 all other moral extravagances, and should be corrected, as 
 are all other excesses to which they are allied ; that he 
 who staggers beneath the torpidity of alcohol is not the only 
 drunkard ; that it is the operation of this same appetite 
 for excitement that induces the young lady to sacrifice her 
 family-comfort and domestic duties to the piano, or the deep 
 and seducing intensities of light literature ; and which too 
 often brings upon her youth, beauty and prime, the dark 
 shadow of death even amid the festivities of mirth. Upon 
 this principle the coquette murders hearts the libertine 
 ruins the virtuous the innocent ; the frivolous and fashion 
 able mother lets her infant sicken and die a victim to the 
 mummeries of dress and show ; the young glutton lays up 
 a life of gout or dyspepsia, or dies of apoplexy. 
 
 These are points ripe for discussion, but come not within 
 the compass of my design, as I am not making a temperance 
 speech, but relating facts connected with the subject, and 
 the opinions and views of others. 
 
 Mr. Temple awoke next morning refreshed in body and 
 mind. His thoughts turned from the recovery of his daugh 
 ter to those connected with it. The horrid situation of the
 
 148 MRS. BEN DARBY. 
 
 Reeves family pressed with force upon his mind, and he 
 arose with a determination to endeavor to work a reforma 
 tion in the moral condition of the household to secure 
 Hannah as a trusty attendant and friend for his daughter, 
 and to place Theodore Harper in a respectable and lucra 
 tive position. 
 
 How to ensure a lasting reform was the first ques 
 tion that presented itself: by elevating them to their for 
 mer position in society and by removing the obstacles and 
 difficulties under which they labored, place them in circum 
 stances conducive to a perfect restoration of health, respecta 
 bility and self-esteem. Without encouragement and assist 
 ance, the jeopardized powers of moral rectitude are hard to 
 re-establish. We are dependent creatures at best ; we need 
 the smile of approval the stimulus of the friendly grip 
 the proximity of mind to mind, to keep us in the onward 
 path of virtue and forbearance. Who could expect a fel 
 low-being to retrace the way of duty and integrity of pur 
 pose, when he sees on every hand his former friends and 
 neighbors shunning him, as if followed by the plague-spot; 
 wrapping themselves in the mantle of infallible rectitude, 
 and looking down upon the penitent, as if he was one whom 
 the rules of society placed in another orbit ? 
 
 Under such a state of affairs, how can the drunkard be 
 expected to reform ? What would he accomplish by a 
 regenerated nature ? He could not regain the confidence of 
 his fellow-man. If it were not for the prize at the end of 
 the race, the hope that reaches beyond this life, and 
 brightens up this vale of sorrow and death, the wanderer 
 from virtue would have but feeble encouragement to for 
 sake the error of his ways.
 
 MRS. BEN DARBY. 149 
 
 Mr. Temple was a Son of Temperance ; he did not waste 
 his time in idle discussions, but went to work with the spirit 
 and the understanding. 
 
 The Temperance society offers a beautiful example to the 
 world. It not only preaches the doctrine of reformation, 
 but meets its converts half way. The hand of fellowship 
 is offered ; they are supported and elevated by the social 
 virtues of the order sustained and embraced by the 
 cheering thought of E plurilus unum. It brings into prac 
 tice those divine attributes which draw man to the likeness 
 of his Maker ; wisdom, firmness, unflinching perseverance, 
 kindness, order, method, and skill The internal power of 
 the subject appeals to the conscience and experience of man. 
 It is not the creature of force or love, but the great and 
 irresistible operation of moral suasion, opening an avenue of 
 intercourse and encouragement ; assisting those who may 
 need it, to a reasonable degree, in the efforts to acquire a 
 competency. It does not hold out a premium to vice or a 
 reward for virtue to its votaries ; but declares, by its plain 
 and honest dealing with the children of men, that it is the 
 duty of every individual to be virtuous, and that no man 
 should feel that he has a right to be paid to become respect 
 able beyond the reward which merit always expects from 
 the hands of society. What a fine platform on which he 
 can re-establish his impaired character regain his lost 
 Eden. He here finds every inducement to reform ; by de 
 grees, he recovers his former position in society, and the 
 confidence and respect of his friends. May I not here re 
 mark, how very partial the conventionalities of society are 
 to the interest and well-being of man? If a woman de 
 parts from the straight path of rectitude and prudence,
 
 160 MRS. BEN DARBY. 
 
 every eye marks the deviation, and every tongue condemns; 
 no excuse or extenuation. If she falls, she falls forever. 
 No one lifts up her bowed head no hand wipes away the 
 penitential tear, or reaches out, in the dark, to guide her 
 weak and erring steps. No one pities her, or seconds her 
 efforts to reform; and even if she does reform, she is shunned 
 and despised. No eye compassionates her, but the eye of 
 Him who died upon the cross. There is for her no " Tem 
 ple of Honor," wherein she can redeem her standing. She 
 feels not the power of human sympathy, which falls upon 
 the heart like the evening and the morning dew, fertilizing 
 the feeble efforts of nature to put forth blossoms of hope 
 and grace. Jesus alone is her friend ; he binds up her 
 broken heart ; chases the tears from her withered cheek, 
 and whispers in the still, small voice, " Daughter, be of 
 good cheer ; thy sins are forgiven thee ; go in peace." 
 
 " Thou who hast slept in error's sleep, 
 
 Oh! would'st thou wake in Heaven? 
 Like Mary kneel like Mary weep, 
 Love much, and be forgiven." 
 
 Mr. Temple was a Son of Temperance ; and I will try to 
 show you how he found his way to the heart of an habitual 
 drunkard. 
 
 The shadows of evening were gathering over the city, 
 when he bent his steps toward Leonard street. He found 
 no one within the wretched domicil but the captious Mrs. 
 Reeves, who had been indulging in liquor pretty freely. 
 She entertained her visitor with murmurs and complaints. 
 He gleaned, from her hasty and broken narrative, a few 
 facts which gave him a better idea of their present situa-
 
 MRS. BEN DARBT. 151 
 
 tion. He discovered that they had seen better days that 
 loss of wealth came first then sickness ^diminution of 
 friends lastly, penury and degradation. 
 
 To remove the latter, was the first consideration, and 
 while Mr. Temple was making up his mind on the 
 point, he was interrupted by a very boisterous movement 
 at the door. In a moment, a crowd of boys and ruf 
 fians pressed against the house ; loud cries were heard for 
 the crowd to give way. Cursing, swearing, pushing and 
 tearing, they bore everything before them. At last, an 
 officer succeeded in making a way for two laboring men, 
 bearing on a broad plank, the body of a lad, covered with 
 blood and dirt. No one offered assistance. Mr. Temple 
 looked inquiringly at Mrs. Reeves, but she seemed stu 
 pefied. 
 
 " Is John Reeves's wife here ?" asked one of the men, as 
 he rested their burden on two broken chairs. 
 
 "Yes !" screamed the woman, " what have you there ? 
 what do you come here for? In heaven's name, what 
 does it mean ?" 
 
 " Mother ! mother !" cried Hannah springing forward 
 through the doorway, "it is Charley our own dear Char 
 ley, mother it is Charley ! Charley ! and he is mother 
 he is dead !" 
 
 " Dead !" screamed the frantic woman, " Oh ! no, he is 
 not dead it can't be ; what, Charley ! my own darling, 
 beautiful boy," and she laid her screaming infant on the 
 bed, and staggered toward the body, which was resting on 
 two chairs in horrible ghastliness. 
 
 " He is dead, mother he was killed by "
 
 152 MRS. BEX DARBY. 
 
 " By what ? Oh ! my God '.say, by what ?" 
 
 " A stone and it was to save his drunken father yes, 
 mother do you hear? a drunken father!" 
 
 " Killed !" repeated the mother, and fell senseless by the 
 side of her son. 
 
 Screams of horror and anguish filled the miserable 
 apartment. 
 
 The body of the youth was laid out, and some of the 
 neighbors brought a clean sheet to lay him on ; another 
 combed out his sun-burnt hair, and washed off the clots of 
 blood from his neck and face. Another brought a pillow, 
 with a clean case. So his young limbs were straightened 
 out, and his stiff, cold features, in death's repose, lay in 
 decent, but poverty-stricken order. 
 
 But what had the son of an habitual drunkard to expect ? 
 Nothing in this life, but buffets and scornful sneers, or the 
 cold pity of the world, (between the two there is not much 
 difference). Young and gentle in his nature loving 
 and kind to all ; with honest principles ; religiously dis 
 posed ; shunning wicked company, and striving, with his 
 sister, to support his family at least, to keep them from 
 starvation, and reform his parents ; he was suddenly cut 
 off snatched away from his good purposes. Why was 
 this done ? Who could tell ? It was one of the inscru 
 table decrees of a mysterious but never-emng Providence. 
 
 While they were all gathered around his bier, weeping 
 the unrestrained tears of natural sorrow, the poor degraded 
 father came staggering and stumbling, and jostling . those 
 in his way, along through the crowd. 
 
 " Can't you come out and let a body come? What's the
 
 MRS. BEN DARBY. 153 
 
 use of having a home, if a man can't get in it, hey ? Can't 
 ye come out ?" 
 
 "How did this happen?" asked Mr. Temple of one of 
 the bystanders. 
 
 "His father had fallen down into the cellar of a house, that 
 was repairing, on Grand street; the walls were tumbling in, 
 and he ran down to extricate his father ; he succeeded in 
 getting the poor intoxicated wretch out, but he would not 
 leave the spot, until Charley went back for his old straw 
 hat, which he had dropped off in his fall. The kind, and 
 even obedient son was returning with it, when a large stone 
 fell upon his shoulder, and crushed him. The father was 
 so drunk, that he did not understand or comprehend the 
 nature of the awful catastrophe." 
 
 His appearance was revolting in the extreme ; his ragged 
 clothes were covered with the rubbish and filth, which he 
 had gathered in his fall; his shaggy hair hung in strings over 
 his haggard countenance; his beard had not been shaven for 
 days ; his red flannel shirt had changed its original hue, to 
 an invisible purple ; his stained, and faded corduroy pants, 
 had no notion of an upright position, without being 
 coaxed by an old leathern belt. He stood in the' middle 
 of the room, with his hat in both hands, holding it as light 
 and careful, as if it was composed of spun glass, and lined 
 with cobwebs ; he looked wildly around, but seemed entirely 
 unconscious of what had occurred. 
 
 "Father! father!" cried Hannah, " see, here is poor 
 Charley. Oh ! I always knew it would end in something 
 dreadful father, do you hear? poor, dear Charley is dead, 
 father dead our own darling Charley."
 
 154 MRS. BEN DARBV. 
 
 " But I guess he saved the hat," replied the old toper, 
 holding it up in both hands, and grinning like an idiot. 
 
 " Oh ! father ! have you no heart no soul Oh ! my 
 poor brothers and sisters Oh ! sweet, darling Charley 
 dead dead! " The poor girl gave way to a fresh parox 
 ysm of frantic grief, but the father walked doggedly away 
 from the body of his dead son, and seated himself on the 
 bedside, still holding his hat with caressing pains. 
 
 As Mr. Temple looked on, he felt almost discouraged in 
 his good resolves but perseverance was one of the virtues 
 of the Order ; he determined not to retire from the work, 
 without at least making all the efforts within his power. 
 In the first place, they were provided with food and rai 
 ment. He then procured a plain, decent coffin for the 
 dead. 
 
 The next day, when he visited Leonard street, he found 
 everything different. The young corpse lay in a black 
 coffin, and a crowd of the poorer class of people had as 
 sembled, as much from curiosity as sympathy or good feel 
 ing. They were talking, whistling, and moving to and fro, 
 as if death and sorrow had no hold upon human sympathy. 
 The father and mother were both smartened up in the 
 new garments, which the benevolence of Mr. Temple had 
 provided for them. Hannah had washed and fixed up the 
 poor, sickly, debilitated children, who were selfish enough 
 to express their joy and delight, at having bread to eat, 
 and clean things to put on ; little recked they of the magni 
 tude of the catastrophe, which had led to such unlooked- 
 for good fortune. 
 
 " Charley will never want to eat again, will he, Han-
 
 MRS. BEN DARBY. 155 
 
 nah?" asked Sammy, with tears in his eyes, but a faint 
 smile on his lips. 
 
 "Why do you ask such a question?" answered his sister, 
 shuddering. 
 
 " 'Cause, we will have his share of grub; that's 'cause 
 why." 
 
 Poor Hannah wiped the tears from her cheek, and 
 silently went about arranging matters for the burial of her 
 brother. 
 
 Mr. Temple found the father perfectly sobered by his 
 awful situation ;-he was not only deeply affected at the sad 
 death of his son, but was suffering all the tortures which con 
 trition, and remorse could inflict. He felt sensibly, that he 
 had been the cause of his son's destruction the immediate 
 cause of his death ; the thought was almost too intolerable 
 to be borne the very wormwood and gall of bitterness. 
 It was a mental aggravation that could know no palliative; 
 it would weigh upon the heart, as long as life should last 
 a souvenir of sin. Even if he could reform, and lead a 
 new life, he knew and felt, that the present wound would 
 rankle in his soul, as long as "memory, the warden of the 
 brain," held its office. 
 
 " Sir, you are very kind," said the agonized father, as 
 Temple offered him his hand ; he tried hard not to see it, 
 but his visitor was determined he should shake hands with 
 him; "you have been kind monstrous kind," repeated 
 Reeves, trying to conceal the tears which were falling fast. 
 " It has been a long time since I heard soft words from a 
 gentleman like you." 
 
 " I expect, Mr. Reeves, that was somewhat your own 
 fault."
 
 156 MRS. BEN DARBY. 
 
 " Somewhat, as you say ; but, sir, this has been a hard 
 world to me it has too." 
 
 " It is a beautiful world, Mr. Reeves, and full of bless 
 ings." 
 
 " And curses too I know it," replied Reeves, looking 
 around him with a bitter smile. 
 
 "I likewise, my friend but do we not bring those curses 
 sometimes on ourselves, by disobedience and willfulness 
 by neglecting the duties Providence has assigned us liv 
 ing without regard to our present or future welfare ?" 
 
 "Oh! sir, you speak truly," said Reeves, pressing his 
 rough hands together and looking wildly at the gloomy 
 coffin which contained the body of his son. " It is dread 
 ful to think of it! Don't talk of it." 
 
 "We must speak of it," said Temple, laying his hand 
 on his shoulder " it is for your good." 
 
 " I can't bear it no, I can't." 
 
 " If you had been stabbed near the region of the heart, 
 and a physician were to stand by and witness your writhing 
 agonies, would you not call him heartless if he did not offer 
 to extract the festering steel?" 
 
 " Sir, it is worse than that it is in my heart deep, 
 deep no hand can reach it." 
 
 " You are a man you will let me try?" 
 
 " I am not, sir I am a brute unworthy of your notice. 
 I am vile. I am the murderer of my own son, my beloved, 
 darling son!" 
 
 "Oh! Charley!" cried the mother, throwing herself back 
 on the chair " we did not know how dear you were !" 
 
 " No, sir, we have been blind." 
 
 " Your eyes are now opened," said Mr. Temple.
 
 MRS. BEN DARBT. 157 
 
 " I see it all I wish, sir, the cursed stone had fallen on 
 my head." 
 
 " That is wrong. There is a wise and just Providence, 
 who orders all things for the best." 
 
 " It can't be for the best I know it can't !" screamed 
 the mother. " You need not preach that doctrine there 
 is no best in it! I know there isn't!" 
 
 "Be still, mother," said Hannah, soothingly. "Listen!" 
 
 " That boy, sir, was our support. I have been a very 
 wicked father !" 
 
 " God forgive ye !" said the mother. 
 
 "I hope, Mr. Reeves, this will be the means of reform 
 ing you you must quit drinking. It is no use to be nice 
 about words. You and your wife have led a horrible life 
 your children are perishing for food, and their souls are 
 starving for moral instruction. What do you suppose will 
 be the end of all this ? Destruction to yourselves and to 
 your children !" 
 
 " Poor Charley is the first," said Hannah, wringing her 
 hands. 
 
 " If I had only been sober, yesterday, this never would 
 have happened it couldn't." 
 
 " In course it couldn't," said Mrs. Reeves. 
 
 " How long have you been drinking?" asked the Son of 
 Temperance. 
 
 " I have not drawn a sober breath for years that is to 
 say, I have never been without the scent of it on my 
 breath. Don't tell me I could reform and become sober 1 
 Don't talk to me about signing the pledge if I was to, I 
 should break it." 
 
 " You can reform and now is the time to commence. It
 
 168 MRS. BEN DARBY. 
 
 is true, you cannot undo what you have done you cannot 
 restore the beloved form of your son to Kfe, but all the 
 other evils can be remedied the other six children can be 
 snatched from ruin and disgrace. Your wife will be 
 rescued, perhaps, from perdition. Are you a man ? Can 
 you hesitate?" 
 
 " Oh ! sir, show me the way, and if there is enough of 
 manhood in me, I will try. I will, sir, indeed I will. 
 Help me, sir, I am weak and vile !" and the tears fell plen- 
 teously from his eyes. 
 
 "See here," said Temple, drawing the white covering 
 from the cold, clammy face of the dead boy ; " this is your 
 son your dead son. God gave him to you, and God has 
 taken him away. You loved him?" 
 
 "As well as a drunkard could love," replied Reeves; 
 "but that's little now I know how little not so well as 
 the bottle. I have loved nothing but rum, for years." 
 
 "That's the truth, John Reeves," said his wife "if 
 ever you told it." 
 
 " But I never thought it would come to this this. Oh ! 
 my poor boy ! what a wretch I am !" 
 
 Temple took the hand of Reeves and laid it on the cold, 
 silent heart of the son. " Here, in this solemn place, swear 
 that you will never take alcohol again in any form or for 
 any purpose ; here, under the shadow of the dead and in 
 presence of your Maker !" 
 
 " Oh! sir, I cannot!" cried the trembling father, draw 
 ing his hand suddenly back; "I should break that oath 
 and dishonor the dead. I can't do it." 
 
 " If you are sincere in your profession of sorrow and 
 penitence, you cannot object to anything that will support
 
 MRS. BEN DARBF. 159 
 
 
 
 and sustain you in that resolution. If you are not in ear 
 nest, forbear !" 
 
 "I am in earnest I will! I "will! and I here pledge 
 myself before my wife and children, and in presence of my 
 dead son Oh ! Charley ! bear witness for your miserable 
 father never to touch the accursed stuff again. So help 
 me God!" 
 
 ."Mother! mother!" cried Hannah; "do you hear my 
 father? do you hear him?" 
 
 "Yes, I hear him. I have heard John lleeves talk 
 before." 
 
 " Can you hear him and be still, mother? have you no 
 promise to make ? is he the only rum drinker in the 
 house?" 
 
 "It is easy talking I want to see him do what he has 
 said he would." 
 
 " Oh, mother! will you not give a promise to Charley? 
 He has died to save you from a bitter curse I" 
 
 "Well," replied the wife, drawing herself up; "I'll 
 promise never to drink another drop, as long as Reeves 
 keeps sober; but if he is at it again, why I'll go halves. 
 I was a sober woman until he brought the truck in the 
 house." 
 
 " I know, I did it all I never blamed you, Sally." 
 
 " How could you ? You learned me how. I never 
 tasted rum, in my life, till you began the game; but I 
 won't stand in your road, John ; you shan't have it to 
 say no, you shan't " 
 
 " You have been just as much to blame as Reeves," 
 said Temple to the wife ; " perhaps more so. If he does 
 wrong, it is no reason you should ; and if he rendered him-
 
 ICO MKS. BEN DARBY. 
 
 self unfit for the duties of a father, it was more incumbent 
 on you to double your diligence as a mother." 
 
 " The men always take up for the men it is mighty easy 
 preaching, but I guess, sir, if you straighten the kinks out 
 of John Reeves, you won't find any hinderance from Sally." 
 
 " Hush, mother !" said Hannah, " here comes a minister 
 to pray with us and bury Charley." 
 
 A new burst of sorrow filled the little room, and after 
 the elapse of a half hour the hearse and two hacks left for 
 the burial of the dead. 
 
 Mr. Temple watched faithfully over his converts. He 
 judged from the first that the husband was sincere and res 
 olute in his efforts to reform. A few evenings after, at a 
 meeting of the Temperance Society, the name of John 
 Reeves was presented as a candidate for admission to the 
 order. He was sustained and countenanced by the bro 
 therhood. He got as much work as he could do, and as soon 
 as Temple was perfectly satisfied that he would not relapse, 
 he gave him the refusal of a small farm, which lay on the 
 Hudson river, a short distance from the city. He and his 
 family were delighted with the prospect of a country life, 
 and readily embraced the offer. In a short time they were 
 comfortably settled in their new home. Mrs. Reeves kept 
 her word, and often, when her husband left for the city 
 market, she would follow him to the big gate to say, "John, 
 let what comes, don't, for God's sake, break the pledge !" 
 Her advice was perhaps timely, but Reeves had no inclina 
 tion to retrace his old steps. What the temperance society 
 commenced, the evangelical truths of the church finished, 
 and no one would have recognized the dark, haggard, dogged 
 inebriate, in the active, enthusiastic, church-going Reeves.
 
 MRS. BEN DARBY. 161 
 
 Hannah was taken into Mr. Temple's family as a friend, 
 rather than a servant, to Elinor. In the meantime, Theo 
 dore Harper was not forgotten, but no one had seen or 
 heard of him since the night Elinor was restored to her 
 family. Every exertion had been made to find him out, but 
 in vain. Letters were written back to his old home, 
 but he had never returned or written. 
 14
 
 162 MRS. BEN DAKBY. 
 
 Cjiayttt 14. 
 
 I see how folks live that have riches, 
 
 But surely, poor folk maun be wretches. BCRSS. 
 
 THE acquisition of fortune to the Fairmont family, ren 
 dered their manner of life more tolerable, and advanced 
 their claims upon good society. It gave peace and plenty, 
 where lately toil and want held the household in thraldom. 
 It rendered Mr. Fairmont, at first, more pleasant and agree 
 able in his family. The excitement of moving to a fine 
 commodious dwelling, purchasing furniture and luxuries, to 
 which they had so long been strangers, amused and stimu 
 lated him for" a few months, and drew him from his old 
 habits. Mr. Temple and his temperance associates used 
 their best endeavors to reclaim him. They tried to sur 
 round him with benign influences, and draw him within the 
 circle of the brotherhood ; but he swore he was not going 
 to be tied up by anybody that he drank his own liquor, 
 and paid for it with his own money that he lived in a free 
 country, and would do just as he pleased. " What ! sign 
 away his liberty, like a poor half-hearted devil, that could 
 not say his soul was his own ? No, indeed ! he was not 
 going to put his conscience in any other man's keeping 
 if they did not like him or his wine, they could keep away ; 
 he would see that the temperance folks handled none of his 
 money !" 
 
 His present situation afforded him the means of excessive 
 indulgence. He could not, it is true, encroach upon the
 
 MRS. BEN DARBY. 163 
 
 property of his wife and children in any point, yet he dis 
 posed of all that he could by right or ingenuity appropri 
 ate to himself or his extravagance. Every day he became 
 more selfish. He gave suppers to a low, lawless set of 
 associates and loafers, in disregard of the entreaties of his 
 wife, or the delicate feelings of his children. Their future 
 prospects never entered into his thoughts, but blind and 
 willful, he dashed on through a vortex of degradation and 
 crime. From excessive drinking, he gave way to every 
 temptation that beset him. In the midst of his unlawful 
 career, he was brought home at a late hour of the night, 
 horribly mutilated in the face, and stabbed in his side by 
 some hero of the bowie-knife, with whom he had quar 
 reled in some of those dens of infernal purposes. He had 
 been gambling high, and being quite heated with his 
 evening cups, he became captious and indignant toward his 
 fiendish friends; a dispute arose, which ended in a perfect 
 row, in which he fell desperately wounded. 
 
 He was received at home with every demonstration of 
 care and attention. He was confined to his bed, unable to 
 assist himself, but lay like a chained demon, raving and 
 blaspheming to such a degree, that his friends could not 
 bear to approach him. His physician forbade him the use 
 of stimulants, as his situation was very precarious, and his 
 wounds in great danger of mortification. He became 
 furious had to be guarded by strong watchers. Through 
 all the tortuous scenes of his confinement, his gentle wife, 
 with unflinching fortitude, watched by his pillow. When 
 others trembled and quailed at his hideous and unearthly 
 extravagances, she soothed him by kind words and loving 
 promises. He would beg for one drop one taste only, as
 
 164 MRS. BEN DARBV. 
 
 much as would dampen his feverish lips ; then he would 
 rave, and break out in volleys of the most appalling curses. 
 Thus passed a week, or ten days, in which time, in despite 
 of his inhuman conduct, he began to recover. As his 
 wounds became by degrees less alarming in their appear 
 ance and symptoms, he also gradually became more paci 
 fied in his nature, and less brutal in his manners ; suffice it 
 to say, to the astonishment of all, he appeared quite satis 
 fied with his retirement and regimen, and seemed to have 
 forgotten his former unprincipled course. Happy hearts 
 rejoiced over his reformation, and prayed that it might be 
 lasting. Months had passed since his disaster, but Fair 
 mont had never been able to leave the house. 
 
 George had gone to West Point, and Kate to Troy, to 
 complete their education. Mrs. Fairmont, with her four 
 young children had gone out to take a walk in the park, as 
 the afternoon had been quite oppressive. Mr. Fairmont's 
 attendants had long since been discharged, and for the last 
 two months, it had not been thought necessary to have any 
 particular watch over him. His servant was very faithful 
 and attentive, and never left the house during his mis 
 tress's absence. 
 
 Mrs. Fairmont and her little party had been gone but a 
 few moments, before some one rang the bell: 
 
 " Is Mr. Fairmont at home ?" asked a man, in a low 
 voice. 
 
 " Yes sir." 
 
 " Tell him, an old friend wishes to see him." 
 
 " That's a jewel I did not know I possessed," said Fair 
 mont, when he heard the message, " hustle him along, and 
 let's see what kind of a bird he is. Ah! is it you, Darby?
 
 MRS. BEN DARBY. 166 
 
 where are you from ?" asked Fairmont, shaking him by 
 the hand. 
 
 "From perdition!" 
 
 " You don't say so. How do you like the country ? 
 rather too warm, hey ?" 
 
 " I have no mind, or time to talk where's your wife, 
 Fairmont ?" 
 
 " Out, showing the children in the park." 
 
 " Is she as pious as ever ?" 
 
 "Just so." 
 
 " And rich, I hear ?" added Darby. 
 
 " As cream, man but what is it to you ?" 
 
 " I want money I have just broken out of prison I 
 must have money enough to take me to no matter 
 where I must have it." 
 
 " I have none to give you." 
 
 " Your wife has, and I must have some." 
 
 "Well! if you must, you must but you will have to wait 
 until Jane comes. I have been ill very ill, for a long 
 time, Darby, and have had no use for money." 
 
 " No use for money!" repeated his companion, in a tone 
 of mock surprise, "How you talk ! it surely can't be Simon 
 Fairmont I am talking to, for I remember the time and it 
 has not been long ago either when you could not have 
 enough and was not over nice about the means to gain 
 it." 
 
 " Talk on I deserve all you can say I have been a 
 dev'lish scamp, and no mistake but when you get honest 
 it will be time to preach honesty to your betters." 
 
 "We will not quarrel about what we never had, or
 
 166 MRS. BEN DARBT. 
 
 ever will have I can't wait for your purse-keeper where 
 does she keep her funds ?" 
 
 " What do you mean, Darby ? what can you mean ?" 
 
 " Oh ! don't be alai-med I only intend to have some 
 before I leave." 
 
 " You don't come to rob old friends," said Fairmont, 
 with a sarcastic smile ; " if Jane had known you were in 
 want, or her sister suffering, she would have attended to 
 her case. Where is your wife, Darby ?" 
 
 " At our lodgings, on Hudson street but come, if you 
 have any money to give me, hurry I must have some." 
 
 " Here is all I have," said Fairmont, giving him a ten 
 dollar bill, "take it, and go your ways and for God's sake 
 don't show your face here again, if you have been guilty 
 of a crime." 
 
 " Is this the way you treat your old comrades ? Fair 
 mont, with all your roughness and brutality, I always 
 thought there was something noble at the bottom of your 
 nature, but I have judged erroneously an old companion, 
 one who always stuck to you through evil and good " 
 
 " Evil ! yes, you may say that ; but it is darn'd little good 
 that we ever saw together. I have never known one good 
 act result from our intimacy ; and it matters not what we 
 have been, I am bound to shield my family from the evil 
 influence to which I have hitherto subjected them." 
 
 "How long since you made this heroic resolution?" in 
 quired Darby, with a sneer. 
 
 " Since you entered the room, and told me you had been 
 in prison." 
 
 " Accused of murder!" added Darby, boldly.
 
 MRS. BEN DAKBY. 167 
 
 " Guilty, or not guilty, Ben ?" 
 
 " That is for the jury to decide, when it has heard the 
 evidence. Such things are very precarious, and I resolved 
 to save running the risk, by making my escape. No doubt, 
 they are searching for me now ; it was our old friend, 
 Benson." 
 
 " That you murdered ?" asked Fairmont. 
 
 "He is not dead ; I wish he was." 
 
 " That is very singular. I thought he was your best 
 friend ?" 
 
 " He may be, for aught I know ; but he is suffering so, 
 and all for nothing, that I wish I had let him alone, or ended 
 his misery." 
 
 " Tell me the circumstances, Darby ; were you gam 
 bling ?" 
 
 " No ; would you believe it, Fairmont ? it was jeal 
 ousy, the ' green-eyed monster.' Oh ! I have led a horrible 
 life since I saw you ; that woman has been my destiny." 
 
 " Well, you would have it ; she was the wife of another 
 man, and you would not let her be. Who is her tempter 
 now some very good-looking fellow, I suppose ?" 
 
 " She was innocent," replied Darby, flinching as though 
 he was felt with a probe. " It was all imagination. You 
 see, I had been drinking a little too freely, and when I en 
 countered my wife and some one walking toward our lodg 
 ings, I followed a little distance behind to watch their move 
 ments, and when they parted at the door, I confronted him, 
 and accused him of trying to seduce my wife. He denied 
 the charge, and said that 'if I had not been guilty of such 
 an act myself, I would not be so ready to accuse other
 
 168 MRS. BEN DARBY. 
 
 people ;' then I cursed him ; he struck me, and I stabbed 
 him." 
 
 " Is he dead, did you say ?" 
 
 " Not quite." 
 
 " I was caught brought before the court and com 
 mitted to prison, last night. I broke out, and have been 
 hid all day under ground. You see my necessities are im 
 perious!" 
 
 " I thought liquor was never your excuse for foul deeds 
 it never unnerved you ?" 
 
 " It begins to affect me differently. I loathe it yet have 
 not strength of purpose enough to shun it. It is part of my 
 nature ; I could not exist without it. They tell me you 
 have reformed," continued Darby, looking quizzically at 
 his old comrade. 
 
 " Well, I don't pretend to say I have. I can't feel as if 
 I had ; but if you had told me, six months ago, that I could 
 have kept soul and body together so long, without the use 
 of ardent spirits, I should have laughed at the idea." 
 
 " I should have laughed myself," said his visitor, sneer- 
 
 " I don't know, now, what I might do if I was tempted 
 just in the road of it. Man is a poor, weak devil at 
 best." 
 
 " Yes ; very feeble, when he suffers himself to be de 
 prived of his liberty of conscience to be cooped up and 
 restrained like a bad boy." 
 
 " To tell you the truth, Darby, I have found out, since 
 my long illness, that I am a poor, half-souled, irresolute, 
 uncertain machine, which has been so used and abused,
 
 MRS. BEN DARBZ. 169 
 
 that it has to be braced up and screwed at every point ; and 
 after all its repairs, it can scarcely perform the purposes for 
 which it was originally made." 
 
 " You are growing philosophical, I perceive." 
 " No ;" I have been blind, and am just getting my eyes 
 open." 
 
 " You cannot walk out ?" asked Darby, kindly smiling, 
 " because now you have reformed, there would be no dan 
 ger of your going in too deep, and I would like to take a 
 parting glass, for ' auld lang syne,' you know." 
 
 " It is with great difficulty I can move across the floor," 
 replied Fairmont, " and even if I could, drinking with Ben 
 Darby, a well-to-do grocery-keeper, and Ben Darby, a refu 
 gee murderer, are two things!" 
 
 " Well, Fairmont, you sha'n't say that I stood by, and 
 saw you imposed on held in vile slavery your conscience 
 contracted and extended according to the notions and 
 whims of others. See here," and with the smile of a de 
 mon, he drew a flask from his pocket, and set it down on 
 the table, "don't this remind you of old times. It is the 
 same tickler that we used in common so long. I leave it 
 with you as a memento of happier days. If you can look 
 at it two weeks without tasting it, why, man, you may 
 know whether you have reformed or not ; this will re 
 move all doubts ; you may call yourself a reformed drunk 
 ard." 
 
 " For God's sake, take it away," cried Fairmont, his face 
 flushing, and trembling from head to foot. 
 
 " No, no, Fairmont, I call this a knock-down argument ; 
 farewell, perhaps when you hear of me again, I shall be 
 
 elevated to a more conspicuous situation ;" buttoning up his 
 16
 
 170 MRS. BEN DARBT. 
 
 coat, he hurried down stairs, leaving his old comrade be 
 wildered by his movements. 
 
 Fairmont drew a long breath, as he heard the door close 
 behind his visitor. For some time he sat with his eyes 
 fixed on his old acquaintance, as it sat cozily on the table, 
 with its well-remembered features. The abrupt and unex 
 pected visit of Darby upset his composure, and his mind, in 
 a moment, was running back over the long waste of mis 
 spent years times of their early association. His heart 
 warmed at the recollection of their jovial hours of their 
 wild, boisterous, and reckless exploits the wit and humor 
 of his comrade 
 
 " IDs ancient, trusty, drouther crony, 
 He loved him like a vera brither, 
 They had been fou for weeks thegither." 
 
 It was in vain that he tried to divert his thoughts. He 
 took up the newspaper and tried to read, but he could not 
 keep his eyes from the bottle. 
 
 " No, it will not do to tamper with the lion, or play with 
 edged tools," said he, drawing himself up. " I will not 
 meddle with the cursed stuff. What can make Ben so vile ? 
 the insidious tempter I'll let him see what grit I am." 
 He took up the bottle and held it before the light. It was 
 full. He took out the stopper, and a perfume of rich cogniac 
 saluted his olfactory nerves. It was strong and powerful, 
 as of old. " I'll be hanged if it is not the real stuff, and 
 no mistake ; Simon, what say you to a pull ? ' to drink, or 
 not to drink, that is the question ' whether, like a man, I 
 will wrestle against temptation, or turn once more to death 
 and ruin. Oh ! thou accursed begetter of ten thousand fu 
 rious passions ! thou deadly anodyne to all the noble feel-
 
 MRS. BEN DARBY. 171 
 
 ings of man's nature ! enticer to all the horrors of polluted 
 fancy ! engenderer of vice, and all the catalogue of evils to 
 which the soul is subject ! Oh ! how I have loved thee, thou 
 damnable drug ! How blindly have I devoted all to thy 
 service to thy infernal influence ! Wife, children, and 
 friends, reputation and health, have all been surrendered 
 without one effort, one solitary reservation. I have served 
 thee with a blind zeal and never-flinching devotion ; but I 
 renounce thee forever ; I will not yield myself a victim to 
 thy dominion again. Oh ! we must struggle for the mastery. 
 Lie there, thou fell destroyer ! Begone ! I will not taste 
 thee, beverage of hell!" He pushed it out of sight, 
 and turned to the open window ; the breeze came 
 softly over his agitated face ; he heard the steps of his 
 wife on the pavement, and the joyous voices of the 
 little gladsome party, as they followed their mother up 
 the steps. 
 
 " How glad I am, Simon, you did not touch it," said he, 
 mentally, as his wife entered with her calm, sweet smile. 
 She approached him so loving and true that he could not 
 resist the newly-awakened stimulus of nature in his 
 heart he reached out his arms, and without any expla 
 nation, she was pressed to his heart, and for the first 
 time in her life, she felt his warm tears upon her cheek. 
 His voice was husky, with strange and incomprehensible 
 emotion. 
 
 Mrs. Fairmont looked wildly in his face ; the new and 
 unaccountable expression of his features overpowered her, 
 and she hid her face in his bosom. 
 
 " Don't be alarmed, Jane, I am not going to act the fool ;
 
 172 MRS. BEN DARBY. 
 
 don't cry. I am a devilish queer fellow ; I am a monster, 
 wife, I know it ; why have you not hated me all this tune 
 shunned and despised me ?" 
 
 "Because you were my husband the father of my 
 children, and you have always loved me." 
 
 " Jane, that is true ; but I have been very unkind." 
 
 " You never meant to be so." 
 
 " Yes, I did, Jane ; .do you see that bottle ?" 
 
 "What bottle ?" said Jane, in great agitation. 
 
 " This, wife, do you see it ?" ' ^ 
 
 " Yes ; what is in it ?" 
 
 " Life or death. Brandy, child, brandy." 
 
 " How strange you are to-night how did you 
 get it?" 
 
 " A friend brought it to me." 
 
 "Oh! no not a friend, but some poor, miserable 
 tempter. Oh ! pray, do not taste it ; perhaps it is 
 drugged. 
 
 " Ay, I know it is, with poison more subtle than helle 
 bore, for it kills soul and body." 
 
 " Let me destroy it, Mr. Fairmont," asked his wife, be 
 seechingly. 
 
 " No, Jane, I want you every day, at dinner, and every 
 evening, at tea, to place this bottle before me." 
 
 " Oh ! I cannot, husband Oh ! no, I will not tempt you 
 in any way ; no, I dare not do it." 
 
 " Well, well, our man John shall do it." 
 
 This was actually done, at his request, every day for 
 two weeks : at the expiration of the term, and just that 
 evening two weeks from the time Darby left, Mr. Fairmont
 
 MRS. BEN DARBY. 173 
 
 arose at the tea-table, and taking the bottle in his hand, 
 and holding it out to his wife, said : ^. 
 
 "Jane, take this, it has lost even the power of temptation; 
 I am a changed man, and I have to thank you and this 
 "bottle." 
 
 Just as he placed it again on the table it burst into 
 pieces ; the remains at the bottom of it were examined, and 
 were found to contain opium. What was Darby's design no 
 one knew. 
 
 Months passed off, and Fairmont remained true to his 
 good resolutions ; he was indeed a changed man, and Jane 
 Fairmont was more than fully compensated for all her hard 
 trials ; all her sorrows were forgotten, or if they returned 
 to memory they only served to magnify, by contrast, the 
 magnitude of her present happiness. 
 
 When he became well enough to go out, she was always 
 ready to accompany him, and as he still continued to be 
 very lame, she always had a good excuse for offering her 
 services. She dreaded, at first, his meeting with his old 
 companions, for fear they might again lead him astray be 
 fore his reformation could be radically effected. Her influ 
 ence over him increased every day ; she persuaded him to 
 attend a temperance lecture, and as he was naturally warm 
 and impetuous, he was carried away by the enthusiasm 
 manifested by the speaker ; he felt so fully sensible of the 
 truths held forth in the arguments that he joined heartily in 
 the cause ; he even went so far as to give an off-hand speech 
 on temperance, which was remarkable alone for its origin 
 ality and vehemence ; but it had a wonderful effect upon 
 those of the audience who had been acquainted with his for 
 mer course of life."
 
 174 MRS. BEN DARBY. 
 
 He lost, by degrees, the rough, unfeeling manner which 
 had marked his wayward course, and became less harsh 
 and blunt in his domestic circle. Mrs. Fairmont would 
 have felt unspeakably happy at the change daily manifested 
 in the conduct of her husband, had she not also witnessed 
 the rapid decline of his constitutional powers. As his mind 
 gained health and strength his frame gradually yielded to an 
 insidious disease brought on by habitual intemperance.
 
 MRS. BEN DARBY. 
 
 Chapter 
 
 Lo, you I here she comes. This is her very guise ; and upon my life, fast aaleep. 
 Observe her stand close. SHAKSPEARE. 
 
 MRS. FAIRMONT had been trying, for several weeks, to 
 discover the lodgings of Darby and his wife ; at last she 
 gave up all hope of discovering them. Hannah Reeves, 
 one of her most efficient emissaries, declared " that you 
 had just as well look for a needle in a haystack." Some 
 three or four days after Mrs. Fairmont's last search for her 
 sister, and after she had abandoned all hope of seeing or 
 hearing from her, she, by accident, was led to discover 
 them. Bridget, a girl employed as a nurse, came in, one 
 morning, to desire permission to go home for an hour 
 or so. 
 
 " Why will not to-morrow do as well?" asked Mrs. Fair 
 mont. 
 
 "As for myself, ma'am," replied Bridget; "it would be 
 all one and the same thing; but, ma'am, my mother is 
 quite poorly, and my father is drunk, and the children are 
 all down with the measles, and our genteel boarders are 
 going to leave without paying their dues ; and you know, 
 ma'am, it is very hard to live on nothing without some 
 thing to keep it up." 
 
 " Yes, Bridget, especially if one has boarders." 
 
 "And sich boarders, too, ma'am ! Why it is only taking 
 the bread out of our own mouths to put it in theirs."
 
 176 MRS. BEN DAKBY. 
 
 "Why do you not get rid of them ?" 
 
 " We have tried hard to do it, but you had as well try 
 to shift off the ague." 
 
 "Do you find their meals?" 
 
 " Only once a day, when called for. It is no very great 
 need that they have for victuals, to-be-sure, ma'am." 
 
 "Very queer people! How do they live?" 
 
 " True for you, ma'am, and well might you say that 
 same thing, providing you could see them and their doings 
 but it is not myself that likes to be-rate our customers." 
 
 "Are they decent people?" 
 
 " Dacent 1 Oh ! ma'am, all but the dacent they both 
 drink beyond all r'asonable bounds." 
 
 "Drink!" cried Mrs. Fairmont, with a start; "who 
 knows, Bridget, but they are the very people we have been 
 looking for?" 
 
 "Never, ma'am!" replied Bridget, raising her hands 
 and eyes. 
 
 "What name do they go by?" 
 
 " She calls herself Mrs. Ben Darby." 
 
 " Oh ! yes, it is the same. Is the woman very hand 
 some?" 
 
 "Sorry a bit, ma'am; she and beauty has parted long 
 ago, and are now living like strangers." 
 
 Mrs. Fairmont gave the girl permission to visit home and 
 see how matters stood, and if the boarders had not left, -to 
 return and let her know; and if she needed any comforts 
 for the sick children, she would try and supply them. 
 
 " Thank'ee, ma'am ; and if everybody was like your own 
 self, ma'am, it is very little of sorrow the world would be 
 afther knowing."
 
 MRS. BEN DARBY. 177 
 
 About an hour elapsed and Bridget returned in great 
 haste. 
 
 " Ma'am, if you please, you can come." 
 
 "Is she still there? you are certain?" 
 
 " Oh ! yes, ma'am ; but, be sure, and she is no company 
 for you, ma'am." 
 
 " It is my duty, girl I must see her." 
 
 "Well, ma'am, and you will have no very pleasant sight 
 I am sure not. It will excite your pitiful tears to see sich 
 a sight." 
 
 " Bridget, you will go with me?" 
 
 " Surely, ma'am, if your heart is set on it; but, dear, it 
 is very shocking to great ladies like you, ma'am, to visit 
 such places. My mother is poor and my father is 
 Oh ! ma'am, I can't say the word it sticks in my 
 throat !" 
 
 "Ah, child !" said Mrs. Fairmont, " I have been in very 
 poor places. I will do you no harm, and I will try and 
 benefit you all I can ; you are a good girl, come with 
 me ;" and followed by the girl, the good lady bent her 
 steps toward Anthony street. They entered a building of. 
 very mean appearance a grocery was kept in front Brid 
 get's family occupied two rooms above one was "to let," 
 the other was occupied by the father, .mother, and four 
 small children. The back room, opening on a little, filthy 
 alley, was used for various purposes ; a brush-maker worked 
 in one, and an old woman was doing up muslin in another; 
 on the door of the third was this advertisement " Carpets 
 shook and chimneys cured of smoking done here." 
 
 " This way, please," said Bridget, leading the way up a 
 tottering pair of stairs, worn thin by hard usage and heavy
 
 178 MBS. BEN DARBT. 
 
 feet. She opened the door at the head of the hall, and Mrs. 
 Fairmont found herself in the presence of her sister. On 
 a very low, contracted bed, with ordinary and unclean 
 quilts, sat Mrs. Ben Darby. She had changed so much 
 that her sister was, for a moment or two, uncertain whether 
 it could in -reality be the one she sought or not, but she 
 soon satisfied herself that her conjectures were right. 
 
 "Jane Fairmont!" exclaimed Mrs. Darby, rolling her 
 self from the foot of the bedstead and seating herself up 
 right. " Well, really, I am taken by surprise." 
 
 " I felt that I must see you once more, Mary." 
 
 "I am oppressed by your condescension." 
 
 " You need not be ; I have come from good motives I 
 believed it my duty to do so." 
 
 " Duty ! duty ! Oh ! yes, you and duty are synony 
 mous ideas. Dear me! Well, Jane, how are you getting 
 on now? Do you make out to spend your money, or does 
 it rust on your hands or does the Church help you to 
 lighten the pile?" 
 
 " Mary, it matters not what you say, I am prepared to 
 bear it all. I have done wrong in not seeking you before." 
 
 " Indeed ! I was not aware of it." 
 
 " I felt I had given you up too easily." 
 
 " I never complained of it, Jane." 
 
 " I have come to see if I can in any way help you, or 
 add to your comfort." 
 
 " Yes, Jane, of course you can. You are now rich, 
 and I am poor. If you have any money on your hands, I 
 will willingly do you the favor to use it ; but if you have 
 come here to talk about religion and temperance, and all 
 that sort of thing, why I will not spend my time listening to
 
 MRS. BEN DARBY. 179 
 
 you, for I am giving music lessons, and have all my time 
 occupied." 
 
 " Mary, if you need money, I have it for you but I 
 must once more try and save you. I cannot refrain from 
 making one more effort to reform you to draw you from 
 your old ways." 
 
 "Mrs. Fairmont," said the lady, drawing herself up with 
 great dignity, " if you don't like my ways, you can let me 
 alone. I despise, as much as ever, your intolerable 
 cant !" 
 
 " Call it what you please, Mary ; it has been my com 
 fort and stay, and made me happy in the darkest hour. 
 What is a woman without faith and hope in a world to 
 come ?" 
 
 " This world suits me very well, Jane, if I had my 
 share of it but tell me, is it true that Fairmont has 
 reformed ?" 
 
 " He has not drank a drop in three months." 
 
 "Of course, I had reference to his drinking. Your hus 
 band has always been such a blunt, low, vulgar individual, 
 that it could not be supposed he could change in any other 
 way. I suppose you have accomplished the mighty 
 work by prayer and fasting or, perhaps, by moral 
 suasion." 
 
 " Mary," said Mrs. Fairmont, and a deep shade reddened 
 her cheek, " he has courageously extricated himself 
 he called into exertion every power within him, and, with 
 the assistance of his God, he has been able to conquer his 
 foe !" 
 
 " Ah! I suppose he has become pious but you really 
 do not mean to say that Fairmont has reformed ? Is he in
 
 180 MKS. BEN DARBY. 
 
 earnest ? Is he religious? You have lived too long, Jane, 
 to be duped at last." 
 
 " No, Mary, my husband is no hypocrite ; you know 
 very well, he never was ; he may return to his old habits, 
 but he is sincere now. He is not a professor of religion 
 yet, but we all know that there is no good action or effort, 
 which man may make, that goes unrewarded. There is 
 no good thought, breathed in silence and solitude, that goes 
 unacknowledged even on the instant, God is ever ready 
 to assist the good purposes of the soul." 
 
 " Oh yes, you have preached that doctrine so long that 
 you have it at your fingers' ends. How do you know all 
 this, pray, even if it was true ?" 
 
 " God has given us a written revelation He has given 
 us capacities to love, and tenderness to bestow. He has 
 invited us to converse with Him in prayer." 
 
 " Well, go on," said Mrs. Darby, with mock solemnity. 
 
 " Prayer is the soul's sincere desire, 
 
 Uttered, or unexpressed; 
 The motion of a hidden fire, 
 That tremhles hi the breast." 
 
 " Oh ! plague on it all, Jane," cried Mrs. Darby, furi 
 ously, "' you may poke such nonsense at your brothers and 
 sisters, but I will not hear one word more I will not," 
 and putting a finger in each ear, she began to whistle 
 " The Campbells are coming." 
 
 Poor Jane sat silent, and at a loss how to proceed. 
 
 " Jane Fairmont," said Mrs. Darby, suddenly dropping 
 her fino-ers from her auricles, " I never could see how a 
 
 O 
 
 woman of your wonderful sense, could be so easily gulled. 
 All this religious fuss is sheer nonsense just got up to 
 frighten folks into being good."
 
 MRS. BEN 'DARBY. 181 
 
 " Oh ! Mary, do not say that you will yet see your 
 error, when it is too late !" 
 
 " Never ! never ! I am not very changeable in my opin 
 ions. I will not believe in God ! I never did, nor 
 never can !'' 
 
 " Mary, if you could, only for a moment, realize the sus 
 taining power of faith, how little and vain would appear the 
 temptations which now beset you ! Sister, let me plead 
 with you do not treat me so harshly. Listen with pa 
 tience, but for a moment. Oh ! Mary, I have prayed for 
 you " 
 
 " Had you not enough in your own family to occupy your 
 faith ?" asked Mrs. Darby, sneeringly. " As to your 
 prayers, I do not thank you for them. I despise your 
 canting fuss. I desire you to drop it." 
 
 " I must speak," replied Mrs. Fairmont ; " I came for 
 that purpose. You never will hear the truth but from me; 
 no one else dares speak to you on the subject. I tell you, 
 Mary, you are destroying soul and body the invincible 
 spirit of crime is hovering over you death and irretriev 
 able ruin are before you pause, before it is too late 
 think, while reason and life are un quenched." 
 
 " I will not hear another word," said Mrs. Darby, rising, 
 with a flushed face, and trembling with excitement. " I 
 would not give the snap of my finger for all the religion in 
 the world it is all hypocrisy." 
 
 " Well, Mary, take all religion out of the question 
 your conduct is destructive to your health, your character, 
 your peace of mind, all that is sacred and dear to the heart 
 of woman. You will sink deeper and deeper, until you
 
 182 MRS. BEN DARBY. 
 
 become a loathsome burden to yourself, and a stigma on 
 your family." 
 
 " You may talk now, Mrs. Fairmont, but the time has 
 been, when you did not hold your head so very high !" 
 
 " The time has never been, Mary, when I could not look 
 the pure and the honest in the face. I have had my sor 
 rows, mortifications, and misfortunes my pride has been 
 humbled, my best feelings abused but my conscience, 
 through all, has remained untarnished, and, although tied 
 to the fate of a drunkard, yet still, I have had moments of 
 bliss, and hours of sweet and holy inspiration, which the 
 troubles of life could not destroy or diminish." 
 
 " You need not get animated !" cried Mrs. Darby, wildly 
 throwing up her arms; " I despise your hypocrisy I loathe 
 and detest your sanctity. It is none of your business if I 
 go to hell ! I will go on my own expense^-it will not cost 
 you anything. Don't lay 'the nattering unction to your 
 soul' that you have caused me one regret, or been instru 
 mental in raising one penitential thought one sigh of 
 remorse. I am superior to your vile superstition and hum- 
 buggery. If you are mistress of your time, I am not," con 
 tinued she, pulling on a pair of soiled kid gloves ; " I give 
 music lessons to the Miss Dumptons, and must wish you a 
 good morning." She was just in the act of bowing herself 
 out when she confronted her husband, who came rushing 
 in, and nearly overthrew her, for neither of the pair were 
 very stable. 
 
 " Our passages are taken come, gather up your trum 
 pery, and let's be off" !" 
 
 " And is it for going you are ?" cried the landlady,
 
 4* 
 
 MKS. BEN DARBY. 183 
 
 springing up stairs, looking first at Darby and then at his 
 wife; and without paying your bill? Well, we will see 
 which is the fool. And you call yourselves big-bugs, hey ! 
 Now let's see you be it, and pay down your dues. Not 
 one dud leaves this premises till my money is paid. A 
 pretty piece of business, to give the best room and the 
 choice of everything for nothing ! You have been trouble 
 enough to please, not to mention your disorderly manners 
 and unchristian way of living. Take that, will you, 
 ma'am !" 
 
 Mrs. Fairmont found it impossible to hold any more con 
 versation with her sister, and despairing of doing any other 
 good, pulled out her purse and paid the bills ; after which, 
 she assisted them by procuring suitable clothing for their 
 journey, and begged the landlady to make them as com 
 fortable as possible until they left. 
 
 " Comfortable indade !" cried the landlady, "and how 
 in the wide world would you think to make her comfortable 
 unless with a demijohn of the cratur, or a something 
 stronger than water, and asking your pardon snoring 
 and wallowing like brute beasts ?" 
 
 The story he had invented about stabbing his friend was 
 all a romance, got up for the occasion to force money 
 from Fairmont. It is true, he had been imprisoned lately, 
 frequently, for his outrageous conduct in the streets and 
 public places of resort.
 
 184 MRS. BEN DARBY. 
 
 ayter 
 
 Death is a fearful thing. ME ASURE FOR MEASURE. 
 
 Six or seven years had passed since the reformation of 
 Mr. Fairmont. His constitution was so impaired by his 
 long course of reckless dissipation, that he fell into a rapid 
 decline, and was soon called to exchange worlds. 
 
 Endowed with a vigorous frame, strong intellect, and 
 naturally a lively, good-natured disposition, he might have 
 lived longer, and proved a comfort to his family and an orna 
 ment to society, had it not been for the " enchanted cup." 
 All these gifts were worn out in the servitude of a master 
 appetite, in slavery and in chains, not only suffering himself, 
 but blighting the hopes and crushing the hearts which clung 
 to him through poverty, want and degradation. But Death 
 came ! It comes to all the mighty and the weak, the sin 
 ner and the penitent, the willing Christian and the ready 
 infant yes, it came to the reformed drunkard, and as he 
 lay calmly watching the sun's rays filleting the canopy 
 of his couch with golden threads, he smiled faintly and 
 turned his eyes to the guardian face of his wife. 
 
 " My wife," he muttered, and tried hard to grasp her 
 hand, but alas ! his was weak in death. 
 
 " What did you wish, dear husband ?" asked Jane, bend 
 ing her cheek to his in order to catch his lowest tone. 
 
 "Wife !" he repeated, and a smile of indescribable satis 
 faction passed over his countenance.
 
 MRS. BEN DARBT. 186 
 
 " I am here ; did I ever leave you ?" 
 
 " Never ! never !" 
 
 " Tell me, dear, then, what you wish." 
 
 " Wife !" he repeated, fixing his filmy eyes upon her 
 quivering face, " wife ! wife !" As the last word passed 
 from his lips, his hand relaxed its hold upon Jane's, 
 and a slight spasm about the mouth told that all was 
 over. 
 
 " Wife ! wife !" the sound seemed almost to linger in that 
 still apartment. Wife ! yes, what had the world of his 
 gratitude what left he behind but that one faithful heart 
 and she dared not mourn his loss ; yet true to the end, she 
 stood alone at his dying pillow, her prayers rising like holy 
 incense to the throne of the Redeemer. 
 
 As the last breath passed away, and his countenance set 
 tled in the rigidity of death, Mrs. Fairmont wiped the 
 clammy drops from his brow, smoothed down the motionless 
 eyelids, and gazed long on his stiffening features. 
 
 Her mind was carried back, in despite of herself, to the 
 days of her childhood the days of early love the bright, 
 beautiful morning she gathered her bridal wreath, and 
 walked with a light step and trusting heart to the village 
 church ; she remembered his vows of devotion to her 
 the fleeting dream of the honeymoon. Then came long and 
 bitter reminiscences, like a train of funeral specters the 
 many weary watches of the night her footsteps upon his 
 haunted path, his staggering way his horrid excesses, chil 
 ling curses his taunts, his selfishness and barbarity to his 
 children his bartered integrity his brutality in all things 
 his derision, his scorn of religion. 
 16
 
 186 MRS. BEN DARBY. 
 
 These things passed through her mind like broken 
 dreams, but how insupportable her feelings must have 
 been, if she had in any one instance spurned him, or 
 added, by her ill-temper or willfulness, an impetus to 
 his reckless course ; but now, as she laid her hand upon 
 his cold, hard brow, and viewed the ravages of death in 
 every lineament of his face, no remorse or self-accusation 
 augmented the trials of the moment. She had the con 
 sciousness of having performed every duty connected with 
 her married life. 
 
 She could recall no querulous murmur, no bitter invec 
 tive no harsh, or unkind repugnance or sentiment of deri 
 sion disgust, or anything calculated to aggravate his feel 
 ings. Her life had heretofore been a chronicle of resignation, 
 trust, and faith. The few last years, her husband had led 
 a very different life, and of course she had been compara 
 tively happy, and felt, now that death had separated 
 them, a hope of meeting him in a better and a brighter 
 world. 
 
 Oh! if it was not for that faith that bears the Christian's 
 hopes beyond the clouds and vapors of this world, to that 
 serene atmosphere, where not a doubt or fear interposes 
 between him and his God, ah ! dear me ! how dark 
 would this life be how aimless and inglorious would 
 be the best performance, if man had no hope of a future 
 life, but was doomed "to fly away as a dream, yea, 
 chased away as a vision of the night." The Christian 
 says: 
 
 " Oh ! that my words were now written ! Oh ! that they 
 were printed in a book !"
 
 MBS. BEN DARBY. 187 
 
 "That they were graven with an iron pen and lead, in 
 the rock forever !" 
 
 " For I know that my Redeemer liveth, and that he 
 shall stand at the latter day upon the earth." 
 
 " And though after my skin, worms destroy this body, 
 yet, in my flesh shall I see God!"
 
 188 * MRS. BEN DARBY. 
 
 17. 
 
 " sir ! to willful men 
 The injuries that they themselves procure 
 Must be their schoolmasters." 
 
 EUNOR TEMPLE and Kate Fairmont had finished their 
 education in the far-famed Troy Seminary. They were 
 both interesting, and it would have been difficult to award 
 the palm of beauty to either. 
 
 Kate was fair and delicate, her figure slight, auburn 
 hair and blue eyes ; sweet gentle eyes, like a child's, guile 
 less, but loving. She was sensitive to acuteness, shrink 
 ing, trusting, unsuspicious ; holding on to all the beautiful 
 and bright things in life dreading, shunning the harsh 
 ness and asperities of nature. Like her mother, she had 
 given her heart to the gentle teachings of the Holy Spirit, 
 and was meekly learning of Mary's master, choosing that 
 better part, which could not be taken from her. She had, 
 like most young persons, a good deal of romance in her 
 disposition, at least enough to make her enthusiastic. 
 
 Elinor Temple had fulfilled the ardent desires of her 
 father, at least he felt proud and well satisfied with her 
 improvements 
 
 I shall not endeavor to describe her in the parlance of 
 the novelist, for I am not writing fiction, but speak the 
 words of truth and soberness. She had still her glossy 
 black hair, her dark, pensive eyes. When she laughed, 
 she displayed a brilliant set of teeth, but she never 
 laughed for that purpose. Her education was more
 
 MRS. BEN DARBY. % 189 
 
 thorough, and perhaps more substantial, titan young ladies 
 
 l^^.'tJff'i/L/ T , 
 
 generally have a predilection for. Her mind, under such 
 discipline, had become steady in its researches, and de 
 cided in its purposes. 
 
 She was almost too silent and quiet for one of her years, 
 but sobriety is very beautiful when adorned with youth 
 and beauty, and I may add, wealth. 
 
 The youiur ladies, as I have already said, had finished 
 their education. They are now presented to the reader, 
 on the splendid steam-packet the New World, gliding down 
 the placid waters of the Hudson, to their friends and 
 home. 
 
 Many events had transpired since they had left the city. 
 Within their family, Mr. Fairmont had died, and Elinor's 
 grandfather had passed away, and was sleeping among 
 his native hills. 
 
 " But the strangest of all," said Kate, " is that your 
 aunt Paulina is married everybody set her down as an 
 old maid." 
 
 " She has married, my papa writes me," replied Elinor, 
 "a splendid looking man, and one of rare talents but see, 
 Kate, we are at West Point;" and as Elinor spoke, she 
 placed her arm in her cousin's, and they walked out to 
 where Mrs. Fairmont sat, viewing the scenery. The boat 
 had stopped to take in passengers, and among the crowd, 
 were several remarkable young gentlemen ; and as they 
 passed into the boat, they were hailed by some friends on 
 board, who seemed very joyful at their arrival. One of 
 the passengers who was taken in at West Point, seemed to 
 be quite ill ; he leaned on the arm of a very tall, strong, 
 independent-looking man, whom Elinor felt certain she had
 
 190 MRS. BEN DARBY. 
 
 seen before, but when, or where, she could not say. The 
 sick young gentleman elicited much attention, and much 
 sympathy. They laid him on a settee under the awning, 
 and his companions gathered around. 
 
 " Poor dear soul," said an old lady on board, " perhaps 
 he has the cholery." 
 
 " How do you get on with your patient, Doc. ?" asked 
 a young gentleman, who had just joined the group ; " do 
 you make any progress in the restoration of his faculties ?" 
 He addressed himself to the tall assistant of the sick man. 
 
 " No, you undo my work as fast as I perform it. He was 
 much better last week, until you got him off." 
 
 " Do you hear that, Clarence ?" and there was loud 
 laughing among them." 
 
 "You are very welcome to make merry at my expense," 
 replied the tall gentleman, " but humanity forbids you to 
 mock such a case as that," and he pointed to the prostrate 
 youth, who seemed regardless of all around him. 
 
 The bystanders were amazed at the heartless levity of 
 the young gentlemen, who could find it in their hearts to 
 laugh at a poor sick fellow-creature ; but when they found 
 out that he was drunk, and had been so for days, pity gave 
 way to contempt, and they walked off, one by one, and left 
 him to the care of a solitary friend. 
 
 Yes, young and delicate as he looked, that youth had 
 been drunk for days. His friend was trying to sober him, 
 before they reached the city, as he was expected there by 
 his mother, who had sent for him to visit his twin-sister, who 
 was dying of consumption. His friend had stopped with 
 him the day before, in the neighborhood of West Point, to 
 endeavor to sober him ; for ever while under the influence
 
 MRS. BEN DARBY. 191 
 
 of ardent spirits, he was subject to convulsions which were 
 horrible to witness. Notwithstanding all the aggravation 
 of the case, there were several young men on board who 
 had used every exertion to have him drink, just as soon as 
 he began to recover from the vile condition into which he 
 was plunged. Poor boy ! and a widow's son ! 
 
 The boat touched the pier at the foot of Courtlandt ; 
 all was hurry and confusion ; the passengers going out 
 visitors coming in, seeking friends, and passing out again ; 
 the gathering of baggage the blusterings of the chamber 
 maid ; the porters after checks ; drummers for the hotels, 
 screaming forth the praises of the various establishments ; 
 the hack-drivers and the cabmen storming and cracking 
 their whips ; sticking them up in the faces of the passengers 
 with such hearty ferocity, that one unaccustomed to such 
 scenes would momentarily suppose that the city was in gen 
 eral revolt, and had passed an ordinance that no strangers 
 should effect disembarkation on the island. 
 
 " Tenth street," said Mrs. Fairmont, as they seated them 
 selves in the hack. 
 
 " Tenth street!" shouted the porter to the driver, as he 
 closed the carriage door. 
 
 " Tenth street !" repeated one of the young gentlemen, 
 from the side of the packet, " I could have sworn it." 
 
 "So could I what is it ?" asked one of his companions. 
 
 " That those folks lived in Tenth street." 
 
 " May I ask why ?" 
 
 " They are the Temples the very people my uncle has 
 sent me to visit." 
 
 " You were always a lucky dog, Clarence." 
 
 " I tell you those girls are sum; I wish it was my uncle's
 
 192 MRS. BEN DARBY. 
 
 nephew, instead of you, that makes their acquaintance. 
 Pray, be liberal; don't fall in love with both." 
 
 A gmile of ineffable contempt crossed the features of the 
 tall protector of the sick youth, when he heard this little 
 episode, as he was placing his charge in the care of those 
 who had been sent to convey him home. 
 
 " Tenth street," he repeated, mentally, and walked ra 
 pidly up Courtlandt, and was soon lost in the mighty crowd 
 that waves down the great thoroughfare.
 
 MRS, BEN DARBY, 
 
 PART II. 
 
 Here we are mot, three merry boys, 
 
 Three merry boys, I trow are we; 
 And monie a night we've merry been, 
 
 And monie mae we hope to be. BURNS. 
 
 IT was a dark, wintery night. The gas-lights shone dimly 
 through the dark fog which filled the atmosphere ; a damp, 
 chilly air came from the bay, that gave a charm to warm 
 rooms and crowded assemblies. A gentleman, enveloped 
 partially in a cloak of the most modern fabrication and ap 
 proved style, paused at the corner of Barclay street, to read, 
 by the rays of a lamp, a card which he had drawn from his 
 pocket. 
 
 The light falling on his upraised face, revealed an intel 
 lectual physiognomy. Genius, wit, classical lore, and 
 boundless aspirations were expressed in his 'candid coun 
 tenance. The eccentric luster of his dark eyes was set off 
 by a decidedly fashionable moustache. His dress and 
 movements were of that peculiar and not-to-be-mistaken 
 character, which city life always bestows upon the wealthy 
 and refined. All who were acquainted with the different 
 phases of New York population, could have felt no hesita 
 
 tion in pronouncing him a star of the upper firmament. 
 17" (193)
 
 194 MRS. BEN DAUBY. 
 
 " Ah ! tenth street," he said, and replaced the card in 
 his pocket, then drawing his cloak more closely around 
 him, watched intently the omnibuses which passed in 
 quick succession up and down Broadway. 
 
 "Are you lost, Duval?" said a familiar voice, while a 
 rather abrupt hand pulled him by the folds of his cloak ; 
 " Or are you deliberating which of the two to choose 
 Niblo's or the opera ?" 
 
 "Watching for an omnibus to Tenth-street; but when 
 did you return from Brooklyn?" 
 
 " About an hour ago, and I have been searching for 
 you ever since; but say, old crony, what draws you 
 to Tenth-street? Very urgent business ? I hope it admits 
 of postponement on account of weather, for we must 
 have you to-night we cannot possibly get along without 
 you." 
 
 "What, not if you have Morgan and Sandford and 
 Symes?" 
 
 " No, it will be no go without you. Who will sing 
 for us ?" 
 
 " It will be impossible for me to be with you to-night. 
 There are four or five of our old set in the city ; let some 
 one of them make up your number." 
 
 " Oh ! it is not numbers we are not deficient in that 
 respect but spirit, Duval, such as poor Yorick's. Sand- 
 ford is a lackadaisical devil, only half-witted at best, and 
 Symes is a would-be humorist as flat and pointless as sour 
 champagne so you see, we cannot do without you." 
 
 " Not to-night my friends will expect me." 
 
 " Yes, to-night, by all that is glorious !" 
 
 " ' Business before pleasure' was my father's maxim I
 
 MRS. BEN DABBF. 196 
 
 have some very important business to look after affairs 
 that must be attended to." C^^r^ 
 
 " That was a motto concocted for the benefit 'of the last j%- 
 generation ; in these progressive times we discard all such 
 musty references and go a-head on our own hook. So come 
 along, to-morrow will do just as well." 
 
 " To-morrow will be Sunday." 
 
 "So much the better, you will have a whole day to 
 recruit and repair damages in." 
 
 " Quite impossible, Herman, my friends must be attend 
 ed to." 
 
 " No backing out, Clarence ; our old hearties will expect 
 you we have lots of arrangements. Come, there is no 
 getting off." 
 
 "Excuse me, Herman," said Duval, coolly; "my affairs 
 are imperious." 
 
 "Ah, pardon me! I recollect now it is a Tenth-street 
 omnibus you are waiting for. No doubt, those blue eyes 
 are very imperious. I suppose, if there is a woman in the 
 opposition I shall have to surrender, hey?" 
 
 "No, no, there is no lady in the case ; but to be true and 
 candid with you, Herman, I must begin to discipline myself 
 more to business my natural disposition for excitment; my 
 propensities for mirth and hilarity are getting almost too 
 strong to master. I have been a sad truant lately, if I do 
 not now begin to struggle I shall " 
 
 " 'Fall like Lucifer, never to rise again,' " added his com 
 panion. " Oh, nonsense ! come along then to my room, 
 we will talk it all over. If you cannot spend the even 
 ing you can warm yourself, for it is very cold chatting 
 here hang it all, come along, it is but a square or
 
 196 MRS. BEN DARBY. 
 
 two. You need more coaxing than a young girl would to 
 marry." 
 
 " Well, well, as you insist so earnestly there is no refrain 
 ing. It is indeed very chilly here, but I have only a very 
 few minutes to spare." 
 
 A smile of sinister raillery glided over the dark counte 
 nance of Herman Frazier when he found his companion so 
 easily duped. So looks the stealthy fowler, when he finds 
 his unconscious prey cunningly enticed within the meshes 
 of his fillet. 
 
 They entered the hotel ; Frazier insisted on his friend 
 taking something to drink, as they had been standing out 
 so long in the evening's damp. The office was filled with 
 loungers, and the street musicians were performing in con 
 cert with remuneration in prospective. Duval looked 
 around at the motley groups, as if not heeding his com 
 panion. The latter seeing his hesitation, said: 
 
 " One glass, Clarence, by way of preventive." 
 
 Fearing one look of ridicule, he took the glass of brandy, 
 drank it, and followed his companion to his room the door 
 was closed, and they cozily seated themselves before a 
 good fire. 
 
 " Only see how comfortable I can make you not quite 
 
 so magnificent as B , but soyez tranquille, and do not 
 
 suppose your friends will stand by and see you bury your 
 self, like an old, imbecile miser, among the gifts which 
 nature and fortune have bestowed upon you, when they 
 ;an make you a leading spirit in society. It is time enough 
 x> preach temperance and abstinence, when old age gets a 
 lease on you or death comes with a habeas corpus. 
 
 "One thing is decided," said Clarence, stretching his
 
 MRS. BEN DARBY. 197 
 
 feet upon the fender, and folding his arms on his bosom, 
 looking as imperturbable as Napoleon himself; "you must 
 not expect me to engage in all the sports your imagination 
 can suggest it will not do I must look to the future." 
 
 " Now you are patronizing Theodore Harper ; he does 
 well as an original, but any imitation of him will be puerile 
 and flat." 
 
 "Not at all," rejoined Clarence; "I admire him much, 
 but I feel no desire to pattern by any one ; but I know that 
 there is a great deal expected of me. You recollect I am 
 the only remaining male of a very old family." 
 
 "The last planting of an aristocratical tribe!" exclaimed 
 Frazier, with a malicious smile. " Well, I can't lose much 
 caste by my profligacy my father was one of the demo 
 cracy one of the people." 
 
 " I am just entering into business," continued Clarence; 
 " and my" friends are steady, sober Quakers. Any careless 
 ness, on my part, will not only be displeasing, but will 
 eventually deprive me of fortune. I hold no claim on my 
 uncle's property I am only an adopted child I dare not 
 disappoint him it would be ruinous to me." 
 
 " Why need you ? Can you not enjoy life without making 
 shipwreck ?" 
 
 " My natural love for stimulants," replied Clarence, leads 
 me, (I well know it), to dissipation ; I have struggled 
 against it ; if I give ground at onet point a floodgate 
 opens upon me with irresistible force." 
 
 " I swear, cried Frazier, you were made for your friends 
 that you are the very soul of conviviality ; all that is jovial 
 and witty. Clarence, we will not give you up without a 
 struggle."
 
 198 MRS. BEN DAKBT. 
 
 " Listen, Herman; my-course at college, this last year, has 
 left me many regrets I may say poignant remorse." 
 
 " In what respect do you find yourself a subject of 
 remorse ?" asked his friend ; " I am very sure you never 
 kept bad company." 
 
 " Our habits were bad," replied Clarence; " decidedly 
 so ; and you must feel it was improper." 
 
 " How could that be ?" inquired Herman, " I am certain 
 our club was composed of first-rate spirits ; minds of bright 
 and transcendent aspirations the very cream of human 
 nature none of your mongrel breed none of your dregs 
 from the reservoir of society; you must own that for genius, 
 intelligence and refinement, they could not be surpassed." 
 
 " I know all that, but " 
 
 " No buts in the case, Clarence," cried Frazier, " while 
 we are confined to the fellowship and sociability of such 
 companions, who can find fault ? What harm can result 
 from frequently meeting taking a few glasses, and singing 
 a few songs ?" 
 
 "But it does not end there," exclaimed Duval; "no, 
 that is the first step ; by degrees we lose our refinement 
 and taste, and become willing to herd with the doubtful 
 the low, and finally, the depraved. We have taken the 
 first steps let us pause reflect ; a few more will lead 
 us to irretrievable ruin endless perdition; is it not easier 
 to retrace this one degree than to wade back upon a sea of 
 transgressions, or sink deeper and deeper into a pool of pol 
 lution, whose rank. and fetid surface is enough to contami 
 nate a universe?" 
 
 "Go on brother," cried Frazier, waving his hand with 
 mock gravity.
 
 MRS. BEN DARBY. 199. 
 
 " Sacrificing our all, and not only that, but drawing with 
 us others, who, but for us, might have been innocent and 
 happy." 
 
 " Huzza for temperance," cried Frazier, springing to his 
 feet ; " you arc getting up opposition to Father Mathew 
 you are an aspiring dog." 
 
 Just then a noise was heard in the hall. 
 
 " I did not know you expected company here," said 
 Clarence, reproachfully." 
 
 " They sometimes come without being expected ; how 
 ever, I will be candid, you are caught fairly caught, 
 and " 
 
 " I cannot stay," said Clarence, buttoning up his coat. 
 
 The door opened, and as the visitor entered Duval tried 
 to escape, and found himself in the arms of his old asso 
 ciates. 
 
 " By all that is sacred I hold you fast," said his friend. 
 
 " You shall not escape," said another.
 
 200 MKS. BEN DARBY. 
 
 Ctjnpttr 19. 
 
 Thou strik'st the dull peasant, he sinks in the dark, 
 
 Nor sayofi e'en the wreck of a name ; 
 Thou strik'st the young hero a glorious mark ! 
 
 He falls in the blaze of his fame. BURNS. 
 
 OTHER gentlemen came in, until the room was pretty 
 well filled ; Clarence was introduced to new associates, ca 
 ressed and flattered until his new-fledged regrets and good 
 resolutions began to vanish like wax before the sun, until 
 they were all dissolved. He caught the contagion of mirth 
 and gayety from those who surrounded him. 
 
 What a common tableau is here presented to the reader 
 an episode in the life of almost every young man yet how 
 many have fallen victims, willing victims to intemperance, 
 by the temptations offered in social wit, talents, hilarity and 
 wine ! 
 
 " I am glad to see you, Duval," said a third, " very glad 
 to see you, 'pon my soul I am." 
 
 " Gentlemen, one and all," cried Frazier, as he handed 
 them chairs, " Mr. Clarence Duval has come to the deter 
 mination to relinquish the felicity of life, and join the tem 
 perance society." 
 
 " The devil you have," said young Symes, turning to 
 Duval, "I thought you were a man of more refined taste ; 
 that your enjoyment of the good things of this life was too 
 exqxiisite to permit you to patronize a humbug "
 
 MRS. BEN DAKBY. 201 
 
 " And forget the pleasures of a glorious hot punch, or a 
 bottle of champagne," added Frazier "for Heaven's sake, 
 pause, sir." 
 
 " Are you going to the Tabernacle to hear that old rip 
 propound the constitution of the Order to flourish his ana 
 thema against the vicious qualities of liquor. I swear it is all 
 gammon; I never heed a word they say it is all in my eye!" 
 
 " They generally put down a half pint of liquor before 
 they begin, in order to engender luminous ideas, so they 
 may make a bully speech, and so soon as they lie themselves 
 dry they take a little for the sake of digestion ; yes, gentle 
 men, all temperance preachers have the dyspepsia. 
 
 "That is a fact," cried Symes; "they talk very solemnly 
 to you scapegraces, you gulpers, you rum-jug stoppers, you 
 sponges of alcohol, about meddling with ardent spirits at all ; 
 but they are the greatest set of villains outside of purgatory." 
 
 " Put one of them in a dark corner," said Frazier, where 
 the odoriferous fumes of a prime flask of good old peach 
 strikes the olfactories, and they will scent it out like a dog 
 after quails, and if they find it out I pity the man what 
 drinks after them ; and as for Dr. D " 
 
 " Oh, heavens ! is that old rip going to lecture ? Why, 
 he would drink as soon as I would, and you all know that I 
 am not backward when it comes to the pint." 
 
 " Never never !" cried several voices. 
 
 " For my part," said a demure-looking man, with his 
 eyes raised in hypocritical modesty, " I can't see how an 
 ardent young spirit can give up all the bright things of life 
 and settle down with the thoughts and feelings of musty 
 oid age at twenty-two, ay, sometimes sooner. But say, 
 Duval, what has convicted you ?"
 
 202 MRS. BEN DARBY. 
 
 "Remorse remorse!" said Frazier ; "does he not re 
 present a victim of vicious habits ? Does he not look like 
 the ' haunted man,' with his brow of stern pride, and a 
 thousand devils winking about the corners of his mouth and 
 eyes, and his sonorous voice, like the chime of a Christmas 
 bell, merry and full as a Bohemian organ grinder's " 
 
 " And wit like a bowie-knife," added Symes, " and rich 
 relations old enough to die." 
 
 "But Clarence has a conscience," exclaimed Frazier. 
 
 " The devil he has !" cried Finner ; " let him use it, 
 and he will soon find it as pliant and giving as an old 
 rubber shoe. Ah! that's right, Herman, hurry up the 
 cakes !" The servant enters with glasses, champagne 
 basket, &c., &c. 
 
 Clarence Duval, dreading the ridicule of his friends, and 
 yielding himself a willing victim to the temptations besetting 
 him, at last threw aside his cloak, and declared they were 
 too many for him that it was useless to contend ; and 
 sinking gracefully back in his chair, said 
 
 " Have it as you will, boys ; but this is the last time." 
 
 " Positively the last time !" cried one. 
 
 " Mr. Duval's last evening !" cried a second, 
 ^i' The last evening of Duval's benefit !" said Symes. 
 
 " Clarence Duval appears upon the boards positively for 
 the last time !" exclaimed Sandford. 
 
 The last time ! 
 
 How often has that word leaped from the lips of the evil 
 doer. The last time ! Oh, yes, the last time ! says the 
 poor deluded victim of the bowl, as he rises in the morning 
 with throbbing temples, dizzy brain and parched lips, his 
 feverish pulse, trembling limbs, his disordered mind grasp.
 
 MRS. BEN DARBY. 203 
 
 ing at the shadows of embryo thoughts, that flit so rapidly 
 and mysteriously through his head ! Yes, this is the last 
 time ! But when night has wrapped her mantle around a 
 sleeping world, the steaming liquor is before him, and 
 with the same pliancy hfe yields himself up to the same 
 insatiable thirst, and grasps with avidity the " poisoned 
 chalice." 
 
 " Oh, I have said that, Clarence, a thousand times," said 
 Sandford, "myself; but I am getting on bravely now !" 
 
 Sandford was a very young looking man, (if man he 
 might be called). His complexion was fair and girlish, soft 
 blue eyes, with finely-chiseled features, which bespoke the 
 sentimentalist, the poet or the lover, rather than the 
 debauchee. 
 
 " Temperance has to knock under to such arguments as 
 these," said Frazier, pointing to the table on which the 
 punch was being compounded. 
 
 All was now confusion. The many voices mingled with 
 the sharp popping of the champagne bottles, the rattling of 
 spoons and oyster-shells. They drew their chairs to the 
 circular table, and recklessly seized the flowing cup. The 
 wild laugh, the pithy anecdote, the harmless jest, the pi 
 quant jeu d' esprit passed round with the first libations ; but 
 every cup increased the hilarity, and _ brought up the 
 coarser emotions of the heart and the most glaring absurdi 
 ties of the brain. 
 
 " By heavens ! I abjure thee, temperance !" exclaimed 
 Symes, holding the goblet to the light ; " how, in the name 
 of Bacchus himself, could you think, Duval, of closing 
 your lips upon such nectar as this drink fit for Jove 
 himself 1"
 
 204 MRS. BEN DARBY. 
 
 " I acknowledge it is delicious," said Duval, upon whom 
 it was beginning to have its effect ; "but if it had not been 
 for your company I should have gone home or to the 
 Tabernacle, and perhaps " 
 
 "And perhaps," interrupted Frazier, "heard us thrashed 
 like the devil !" 
 
 " Temperance will come in good play when a man gets 
 married and settles down with a family that is, if one 
 prefers it," said Sandford. 
 
 "I, for one, swear independence. Come, Clarence, down 
 with that glass and fill a bumper," said Symes, "and 
 give us one of your old songs. Come, cheer up ! you look 
 like you had been sold to pay taxes." 
 
 " Yes, Clarence, remember it is your last night," said 
 Herman. 
 
 " Positively the last !" repeated Symes ; " here's to you 
 fire away and give us your ' Hip ! Hip ! hurra !' " 
 
 Clarence braced himself up by the arms of his chair; his 
 dark curly hair stood out from his brow ; his deep, mysteri 
 ous eyes, full of thought and sensualism, flashed with fire 
 " like sparks from smitten steel." In his right hand he 
 held a glass of wine, and the other, firmly closed, rested on 
 the table : -.-. ^ r. 
 
 Come send round a bumper up to the brim, 
 He who shrinks from a bumper I drink not to him ! 
 Here's to the girl that each loves, be her eye of what hue 
 Or lustre it may. so the heart is but true ! 
 
 Charge ! hip ! hip I hurra I 
 
 They all drink, and Clarence sings on : 
 
 Come, charge high again, boys! now let the full wine 
 Leave space in the brimmer where daylight may shine! 
 Here's the friends of our youth, though of some we're bereft, 
 May the links that are lost but endear what is left! 
 
 Charge! hip! hipl hurra!
 
 MRS. BEN DARBT. 206 
 
 Come, once more a bumper, then drink as you please 1 
 For who could fill half-way to toasts such as these ? 
 Here's our next joj'ous meeting may the weather be clear I 
 May our hearts be as bright, and may Clarence be there I 
 Charge! hip! hip! hurra! 
 
 They all drink as the song is finished, and the pale-faced 
 youth, proposes a bumper to Tom Moore, author of the 
 song just sung. 
 
 " Oh ! hang it all !" cried Frazier, as they emptied their 
 glasses ; " this is too classical for me. I will give you 
 something more natural or Christy-cal :" 
 
 " Oh I when I am dead and gone to rest, 
 
 Lay the bottle by my side ; 
 Let revelers gay to my funeral come, 
 For with them I have lived and diedl 
 
 In some deep gutter I'll lay me down, 
 
 And dream forever more, 
 That I am drunk as a loon, in an old bar-room, 
 
 With plenty of liquor in store !" 
 
 The loud cheers which followed were interrupted by a 
 mysterious rap at the door. 
 
 "Is that you, Doctor ?" exclaimed Frazier, as he unlocked 
 the door, and let in a man of fine appearance. " Why, 
 you come with a face as grave as Banquo's ghost. Come, 
 here 's a seat." 
 
 " Not for me ; you know I never drink," said the stran 
 ger, looking around the table. 
 
 " We are a godly set, Doc, and it is no use to preach 
 hie! to hus! now, so evacuate the premises, if you please, 
 and do-n't be for lec-turing hus, now!" 
 
 " I did not come to lecture it does no good." 
 
 " No come take a glass with us, Doc it will be bene-
 
 206 MKS. BEN DARBY. 
 
 ficial to the coats of your stomach. Here is the cham 
 pagne, Doc and here are the oysters, the vinegar and the 
 hot punch." 
 
 " You had just as well sing psalms to a dead horse, as 
 to place temptations in his way. I tell you, Symes, he never 
 drinks never !" 
 
 " Never drinks !" replied Symes ; " then put him out 
 out with him, he has no business here !" 
 
 " No ! he shall have his say. Hurrah for our chaplain ! 
 blaze away, Doctor never mind them! Frazier, can't 
 we make him up a pulpit pro tern.?" 
 
 " Excuse me, gentlemen," said the new comer, waving 
 his hand ; "I have come on business. Is there a young 
 man here by the name of Sandford ?" and he looked anx 
 iously from face to face. 
 
 "I am the man !" replied the toaster of Tom Moore 
 " what have you to say to me, Sir Parson ?" 
 
 " Your presence is required at home, sir, and I have 
 pledged my word to have you there as soon as possible 
 so come on." 
 
 " I will not go, that's positive," cried the youth ; " it is 
 all a ruse to get me out. I understand all the movements 
 of the game, by thunder ! can 't a man do as he pleases 
 in this free land ? I am an American, Doctor." 
 
 "Not always, sir; yon must go. When I get out, I will 
 tell you why you have been sent for. Come, Sandford, be 
 reasonable." 
 
 " I guess you will, sir," replied Sandford, the blood 
 rushing to his temples. " I should like to know who dares 
 say must to me !" 
 
 " Come, Mr. Sandford, it is useless to refuse," replied
 
 Mus. BEN DAKBY. 207 
 
 the stranger ; " if I must tell you the truth, to get you 
 home, your sister, sir, is dying, and wants to see you." 
 
 " Yes, I know she is," replied the reckless youth, coolly 
 sipping his unfinished glass. "The last time it was mother, 
 and when I got home, she was eating ice cream. I thought 
 she was taking it coolly. No sir 1 you can 't come it over 
 me with that story ! It has been tried once too often. 
 Here, fill my glass, by thunder I'll stick to you, boys, as 
 long as I can stand !" 
 
 His heartless barbarity struck even his lawless compan 
 ions with disgust, and Frazier, after much difficulty, suc 
 ceeded in getting him up from the table, and, with the 
 assistance of the most sober ones, prepared him for his exit. 
 Uttering the most loathsome curses, he was dragged out 
 by the powerful grasp of his conductor ; the door was again 
 closed, and the revelers renewed their potations. 
 
 The gap which the absence of Sandford made in their 
 circle, was soon forgotten, and they laughed, drank, and 
 cracked jokes as if nothing had transpired to interrupt their 
 party. 
 
 The night was pretty far advanced when the all-subdu 
 ing power of the various mixtures began to work upon 
 Duval. At first, it enlivened him. His wit and pleasantry 
 were irresistible, but soon they gave way to the soporife- 
 rous qualities of the stimulants, and he began to nod to and 
 fro, and finally fell into a hideous and unnatural slum 
 ber. The others drank until perfectly intoxicated; they 
 then became uproarious, some singing disgusting strains ; 
 some cursing and raving in temporary insanity ; some 
 laughing with the diabolical malignity of a Satan, at
 
 208 MRS. BKN DARBY. 
 
 the prostrated form of Clarence, boasting, in coarse lan 
 guage, at the conquest they had gained. 
 
 Frazier and Symes, naturally petulant and restive, sepa 
 rated themselves from the rest of the party, and began to 
 quarrel. The dispute commenced about the pilgrim fathers, 
 and ended in a political discussion, the merits of -which 
 were lost in the noise and confusion of the disputants. 
 Words ran high, until they attracted the attention of the 
 others, who hastened up to them ; each took sides with his 
 favorite, until they were pretty well divided and matched, 
 then words gave place to blows the noise and tumult was 
 tremendous. 
 
 The cry of one party was to theirs to cut the Fourth of 
 July under the eyes of his adversary ; and they shouted 
 back to imprint the Declaration of Independence on the 
 noses of their enemies. Chairs came into requisition, and 
 flew, like winged creatures, through the air. Their social 
 and refined meeting was ending in a drunken broil a 
 bloody fight. 
 
 Gradually the battle subsided, as the belligerents were 
 knocked down, or sank, out of breath, and exhausted by 
 exertion, which their enfeebled bodies could not sustain, 
 and there was nothing to be heard but the dull, tubby 
 breathing of the conquered revelers. 
 
 " Their feeble tongues 
 Unable to take tip the cumbrous word 
 Lie quite dissolved. Before their maudlin eyes 
 Seem dim and blue, the double tapers dance 
 Like the sun wading through the misty sky; 
 Then sliding soft, they drop confused above 
 Glasses and bottles, pipes and gazetteers 
 As if the table e'en itself was drunk."
 
 MRS. BEN DARBY. 209 
 
 There lay Clarence Duval upon the floor, for he had 
 slided down from the sofa, unconscious of the storm that' 
 was raging around him. The sun was high up in the 
 heavens when he awoke from his torpid slumber. Scarcely 
 had he opened his eyes before an excruciating pain shot 
 across his brow ; his lips were parched with heat ; his pulse 
 wild and feverish ; his rich hair lay in damp, massy tangles 
 upon his clammy temples. A crust of coagulated spume, 
 exuded from the stomach, lay stiff and thick upon his 
 model moustache, and mattery gum oozed in yellow beads 
 from the corners of his inflamed and lusterless eyes. His 
 shirt-bosom was seamed and besmeared with liquor and 
 cigar juice ; his vest collapsed and awry ; his cravat, with 
 its butterfly bow, crumpled and turned hind-part before ; 
 his pants tucked up by the tops of his boots until they had 
 lost all conservative power, yielding nothing to the strenu 
 ous exertion of the wearer to replace them in their former 
 position. 
 
 He looked around the apartment, like one in the horrid 
 throes of nightmare ; by degrees, his senses brought back 
 to memory the events of the past night ; reflections terrific, 
 virulent came crowding upon him. The lamps were shat 
 tered; the vessels of their revelry were smashed in a 
 thousand pieces scattered under and about the table; 
 bottles and hats piled in pyramids upon the " festive 
 board;" the punch, in which had floated the brilliant 
 thoughts, the racy anecdotes, the timely jest, the ingenuous 
 pun, presented now a dead sea upon the surface of which 
 floated bits of crackers, rinds of cheese, almonds, half- 
 smoked cigars, half-burned lighters, and champagne corks. 
 
 The chairs lay broken in confusion about the apartment. 
 18
 
 210 MRS. BEN DARBY. 
 
 Some poor, sickened wretches had disgorged their over 
 charged and rebellious stomachs on the hearth-rug and had 
 spouted the obnoxious decoction over the sides of the man- 
 tlepiece. Some were lying on the floor some on the sofas, 
 and others were reclining against the side of the room with 
 bloody faces and blackened eyes. 
 
 Clarence walked forth from that infernal chamber with a 
 faltering step and dizzy brain. He felt as if his brow was 
 pressed by the poisoned band of Orcus and that " it would 
 not come away." 
 
 It was a glorious November morning ; the sunlight lay in 
 sheets of gold upon the waters of the bay, and the breeze 
 from the ocean was bracing and vivifying ; but what cares 
 the drunkard for the beautiful scenes of nature or art ? He 
 stumbles on with a curse ; his muddled brain can scarce 
 retrace his footsteps to his rooms. He throws himself upon 
 his bed to sleep off the horrors which now possess him. 
 The inebriate sells a pearl of the soul for every drop he 
 drinks a gem of hope for every cup he sips, until the im 
 mortal soul is bartered by piecemeal to this dark tempter. 
 Begin as he may, the finale is the same there is no peace, 
 no trust, while his fingers tamper with the scorpion's drug, 
 that palsies the heart and maddens the brain.
 
 MRS. BEN DARBY. 211 
 
 20. 
 
 CLAUD. And she is exoedingly wise. 
 
 D. PEDKO. In everything but in loving Benedict. SHAKSPEARE. 
 
 READER, we will now enter Mr. Temple's tea parlor. It 
 is just six o'clock in the evening, and a clear coal fire 
 enliv.ens the hearth. The gas chases the crouching 
 shadows from every corner of the apartment. The dark 
 curtains are over the closed windows to exclude the chill 
 air, and give a picture of comfort and cheerfulness within. 
 Mrs. Lacy, formerly Miss Paulina of Wolf-Gap memory, 
 presides at the tea-table, in that quiet, staid way peculiar 
 to old Virginia housekeepers. Elinor is seated, in child 
 like grace, on an ottoman at her father's feet, leaning on 
 the arm of his chair and reading the Siftings of the Daily 
 Times. Mr. Temple looks older, much older; his locks 
 are quite white, but his general appearance bespeaks better 
 health and more elaborate strength and constitutional 
 powers. He looks like " a man of sorrows and one 
 acquainted with grief;" yet still we can read resignation 
 and patience on the placid lineaments of his face. Mr. 
 Lacy, a noble, manly-looking gentleman, is occupied at a 
 side-table with a periodical. Kate Fairmont is tuning the 
 strings of her guitar, on the sofa, looking very lovely, but 
 very busy. 
 
 Behind Mrs. Lacy's chair stands Lunnun, the old house- 
 servant from the Gap. He was emancipated with the rest
 
 212 MRS. BEN DARBY. 
 
 of Mr. Temple's negroes, but would not leave "the child 
 ren," as he called them. He is faithful and trustworthy 
 the executor of his mistress' will. See how stately he 
 stands his arms folded across his breast, the large balls 
 of his eyes raised, but his vision directed downward, watch 
 ing the antic motions of a little pet dog, basking himself 
 before the fire, which it did not feel willing to leave yet it 
 could not find a position that precisely suited its tempera 
 ment sometimes it would draw up its feet sometimes 
 stretch its paws to the grate, then rise up slowly and shake 
 its sides to turn round and lie down again. 
 
 Lunnun was fond of soliloquizing, very methodical in his 
 proceedings, and so very precise and neat in his person 
 that one would suppose it impossible to improve his appear 
 ance, yet on Sundays he indulged in sundry excelsiors, and 
 if you chanced to meet him with his kid gloves and silver- 
 headed cane, you would think he was going " to meet 
 Johnny Booker at the Bowling- Green." 
 
 " Only listen, papa," said Elinor, turning quickly to 
 Mr. Temple, then blushing slightly she turned over the 
 paper. 
 
 " I am all attention, daughter." 
 
 " Oh ! it is nothing, only the arrival of Clarence Duval 
 at Judson's Hotel." 
 
 "When?" 
 
 " On Saturday." 
 
 " The very day we arrived !" cried Kate, laying down 
 the guitar. 
 
 " Yes, and he is the very young gentleman we noticed 
 on the New World." 
 
 " And not called on us yet ! we must hunt him up."
 
 MRS. BEN DARBY. 213 
 
 " I think, brother, it would be more prudent to await 
 Mr. Duval's pleasure. If he wishes to cultivate our ac 
 quaintance, he can easily find us." 
 
 " Perhaps he is sick; and as his uncle is an old friend, 
 and has written to me to look over him a little, I think it 
 my duty to do so." 
 
 "If it is the same gentleman we saw on the boat," said 
 Kate, na'ively, "I should think he could take good care of 
 himself." 
 
 " His uncle gives him a fine character," replied Mr. 
 Temple, " and no doubt he will greatly add to our family 
 circle." 
 
 Kate colored, and silently took up the guitar again. 
 
 " If he resembles his father, we shall find him very 
 interesting," said Mrs. Lacy; "I can remember, when 
 Clement Duvai was the life of every social meeting per 
 haps a little too careless in his duties too fond of gay 
 life but very amiable in disposition." 
 
 "Very amiable people, sister, are always popular very 
 amiable people please everybody, because they adapt them 
 selves to every one's caprices, wishes, views, and opinions. 
 Clement Duval was always wild and reckless, and it is a 
 wonder to me, he has retained his station, and increased 
 his fortune." 
 
 "That," said Mr. Lacy, laying down his book, "is be 
 cause he reformed he was, at one time, on the brink of 
 ruin he drank very hard, but paused -on the threshold of 
 degradation commenced a new course, and proved his 
 manhood ""by resisting temptation, and turning a cold 
 shoulder to his profligate companions."
 
 214 MRS. BEN DAKBY. 
 
 " He deserves a great deal of praise," said Mrs. Lacy; 
 " I am very sure, few follow his example now-a-days." 
 
 " Now-a-days ! why bless your soul, sister," said Mr. 
 Temple, smiling, " the world was always as degenerate as 
 it is now." 
 
 " And old ladies just as malicious but tell me, brother, 
 you do not expect the gentleman to take up his abode with 
 us?" 
 
 " No, no he does not need as close vigilance as that. 
 I am only requested to give him good advice, and keep an 
 eye on his proceedings as far as I can." 
 
 Just then the bell rang, and Clarence Duval entered the 
 parlor. 
 
 Reader, not the individual we left brooding over his 
 misspent hours, his prostituted talents, with bitter remorse 
 and contrition but the elegant, the refined, the intel 
 lectual, fashionable, high-toned, aristocratic, and fascinating 
 Clarence Duval. He had dozed off his stupor on Sunday 
 made his vows of reformation cut away with disgust, the 
 filthy testations of his Saturday night's debauch and after 
 putting himself in his best attire, hastened to visit the 
 Temples in Tenth street. 
 
 The reception given him by his father's old friends, was 
 truly gratifying. He found himself in an interesting 
 circle his conversational powers revived and improved 
 with the stimulus given by the eagerness and undivided 
 attention bestowed on him. 
 
 Clarence was formed by nature to please ; his faultless 
 form, adorned with all the strength of manhood, yet soft 
 and flexible in attitude and motion ; his fine face ; his
 
 MRS. BEN DARBY. 215 
 
 insinuating address ; his easy, self-confident manners ; his 
 well-stored mind ; his poetic thoughts ; his classical stores, 
 all combined to render him irresistible at least so said the 
 ladies of Tenth street so thought Kate Fairmont, as she 
 glanced at him from behind the guitar, as she carelessly 
 rested it against her cheek. 
 
 Mr. Temple poured a shower of reproaches upon his 
 young friend, for being so long in the city without calling, 
 especially as they had been expecting him. 
 
 Mrs. Lacy thought it selfish to expect so much of Mr. 
 Duval, there was so much to charm the eye, and engage 
 the attention in the city they ought not to have wished 
 the sacrifice. 
 
 Mr. Temple said that Mrs. Lacy always espoused the 
 cause of the delinquent. To which Mr. Duval gallantly 
 replied, " that he was willing to plead guilty, in order to 
 be honored by such a fair advocate but to be candid," 
 continued he, " I should have been here on Saturday 
 evening, but on my way I met some old friends, who in 
 sisted on my spending the evening with them, and ever 
 since I have been suffering with a severe headache." 
 
 " It was, no doubt, produced by riding in the cars," 
 said Mrs. Lacy, " it always affects me just so." 
 
 "Perhaps it is the influenza it is very prevalent, and 
 always deranges the head." 
 
 " Do you use the Homoeopathic or Allopathic medi 
 cines ?" asked Mrs. Lacy. 
 
 ' ' I seldom use any kind my present indisposition will 
 soon wear off." 
 
 "I recommend Mrs. Jarvis's cough candy," said Elinor 
 " it is my panacea."
 
 216 MRS. BEN DARBY. 
 
 " Or a cold bath," said Mr. Temple; "nothing like it, 
 sir." 
 
 " Or an evening at Christy's," said Kate slyly. 
 
 " All these prescriptions may be good in their way, but 
 if we live temperately in all things, we would need but few 
 visits from the doctor," replied Mr. Temple. 
 
 "You should have been with us on Saturday evening, at 
 the Tabernacle ; we had a fine lecture on temperance." 
 
 Mr. Duval was very sorry he had not been with them. 
 
 " A fine appeal," said Mr. Lacy. 
 
 "Perhaps," said Elinor, mischievously, "Mr. Duval is 
 not quite as ardent in the cause as you are." 
 
 " How could he be ?" said Mr. Temple, sighing. 
 
 "I am an advocate for temperance," replied Duval, 
 " but not for the Temperance Society." 
 
 " How do you separate them ?" asked Mr. Temple. 
 
 " I do not believe in force. If a man is inclined to be 
 sober and virtuous, he will be so ; if he loves the bottle, no 
 law or restraint can entirely reform him, and all pretension 
 to it is hypocrisy a man must act from freedom, or the act 
 is not his own," said Clarence. 
 
 " Then all church services should be dispensed with 
 the religion of Jesus Christ needs no advocates no facili 
 ties to bear it through the universe. Drunkenness is only 
 one of the sins, against which the warfare of virtue must 
 be constantly waged." 
 
 " The world, Mr. Temple," replied Duval, " will never 
 become thoroughly converted to temperance. Surely the 
 advocates of the Order cannot indulge the chimerical idea, 
 that the period will ever arrive, when ardent spirits, or an 
 appetite for stimulants will cease to exist among men."
 
 MRS. BEN DARBY. 217 
 
 " Neither does the Christian hope that until the period 
 of God's vast decree, that either sin, or the propensity for 
 its indulgence, will cease to exist, while man moves in 
 freedom of will, a finite being ; yet his divine Maker has 
 left open an avenue to his heart, through which the holy 
 principles of truth and love may force their way to his inner 
 nature." 
 
 " Mr. Temple," said Duval, " God himself has, in the 
 constitution of man, laid the foundation for this evil. In 
 our natural condition, the organization of man seems to 
 require, for the preservation of health, a certain degree of 
 stimulus." 
 
 "Agreed. Proceed, sir." 
 
 " Among the epicures and gourmands of civilized life, 
 this opinion is universally advanced and sustained. Its no 
 toriety would seem to argue, that the use of it is among 
 the necessities of life. The Turk must have his pipe the 
 German also. The Spaniard would smoke his cigar in the 
 face of the world. The American prefers to chew the nox 
 ious weed, and he does it in the glory of his republican 
 rights, to the horror of the housekeeper, and in defiance of 
 Turkey carpets and flowered hearths. Nor is this love of 
 stimulant limited to the physical properties of man. His 
 whole intellectual being demands excitement and impetus. 
 Ancient history overflows with evidences of this peculiarity 
 of our nature. The Olympic games ; the public shows 
 and pageantry of their conquests ; the horrid yet intensely 
 exciting scenes of the gladiatorial arena ; the terrific bull 
 fights, so full of interest to the old Castilianjcarnivals; the 
 scenes of the drama ; the stupendous wars of invasion and 
 
 conquest that have merged races, and changed the whole 
 19
 
 218 MRS. BEN DARBY. 
 
 structure of human society, with a thousand of more 
 modern excitements, such as national ballads, agitating 
 elections the love of arms." 
 
 "Man, then, in this mental and physical position, needs 
 stimulus. Let me ask you, my young friend, has not God 
 furnished him every delight every sentiment of ambition 
 every inducement to intellect every perfection to man's 
 physical organization every wonder in nature every 
 sympathy of soul every inducement that belongs to the 
 grandeur of immortality, inviting him to pursue the journey 
 of life rationally, happily, and consistent with the preroga 
 tives of the children of God ? Why should man feel the 
 want of stimulus to pursue the journey of life ? If he 
 turns to the right, science beckons him on to unexplored 
 regions, where the intellect unwinds its boundless folds; 
 Religion erects her temples ; Love sports his resistless at 
 tractions; Hymen keeps his lamp burning on the sacred 
 altar ; countless affections, graces, sympathies, and suscepti 
 bilities cluster about his heart, like tutelar angels, to guard 
 him in his duty ; and, above all, that broad anchor that 
 holds him ' sure and steadfast/ amid the fearful tempest to 
 which he is ever exposed, while tossing upon the wide ocean 
 of being. I mean prayer and communion with his Maker." 
 
 " Yes, but man must not be forced to temperance ; it 
 is not a crime amenable to law." 
 
 " I am not so sure but it should be, my dear young 
 friend," exclaimed Mr. Lacy. " It often leads to the 
 blackest acts of man's turpitude." 
 
 " So will ambition." 
 
 "Yes, in the abstract ; but it can never be a contagion. 
 It is limited in its sphere of operations ; but the curse of
 
 MKS. BEN DARBY. 219 
 
 drunkenness pervades every quarter of the globe, from the 
 isle of the ocean to the regions of the Andes ; from the 
 crowded corporations of Europe, to the hills and hamlets 
 of New Holland ; from the haciendas of Mexico, to the 
 villages and cities of our own beloved land. I think, sir, 
 yours is a weak position." 
 
 "I do affirm, sir, that a man cannot be forced to reform, 
 if it is an act of his own free will." 
 
 "The drunkard, sir," cried Temple, bitterly, "has no 
 free will." 
 
 " He certainly has a propensity, and if he can, of him 
 self, master that propensity, he does not succumb, but, on 
 the other hand, if he is forced by others to reform, the evil 
 is not radically removed, but " 
 
 " The Temperance Society uses no force," said Temple ; 
 " it comes forth to aid, to strengthen. The divine progress 
 of the Christian religion owes its triumphs (aside from its 
 divinity) to its adaptation to the nature of man ; just so 
 the Temperance Society. It goes forth a volunteer, with the 
 weapons of faith, love, argument, humility, and persuasion. 
 Kindly, affectionately does it invite the ear of humanity ; 
 faithfully, in the language of irresistible force, does it depict 
 to him the horrible evils of alcohol resistlessly does it 
 pour forth the facts that must convince the hearer, that it 
 is a fountain of unhappiness in this life, and will eventually 
 end in the sacrifice of eternal enjoyment. Then, as a ten 
 der father would discourse to a beloved child, comes its 
 deep language of wild, energetic appeal. The heart first 
 listens predisposed ; then follows earnest and thorough con 
 viction, with its consequences a permanent reformation. 
 This you call signing away your liberty !"
 
 220 MRS. BEN DARBY. 
 
 " Yes, sir ; in signing the pledge, a man gives his con 
 science into the hands of a small community." 
 
 " I suppose, then, when your grandfather signed the 
 Declaration of Independence, he signed away his liberty 
 his right to act for himself ; he belonged to a smaller party 
 than the Sons a very limited party ?" 
 
 " Oh ! pardon me, Mr. Lacy," said Clarence, "that was 
 a different affair." 
 
 " May I ask why ?" 
 
 "The struggle was for freedom, sir." 
 
 "From what, young friend ?" 
 
 " From tyranny from slavery and death." 
 
 " Ah ! Mr. Duval, where can you find more galling 
 chains than those the fiend, Intemperance, rivets upon its 
 victims ? Where can you find such abject slavery, as that 
 arch-demon imposes ? It subdues both soul and body. 
 The temperance preachers are brands plucked from the 
 awful flame, spreading before mankind tneir own expe 
 rience with the tyrant ; the record of their fierce struggles 
 with him, and the glorious story of their final conquest." 
 
 " If a man can be forced from drinking, is it not better 
 for him to yield to that power, than to let him plunge him 
 self into ruin ?" asked Temple. 
 
 " And not only himself," said Elinor, " but all who love 
 him ; bringing disgrace upon the innocent and pure." 
 
 "Suppose every man was a drunkard, would not this be 
 a queer world ?" said Mr. Lacy. " Yes, one mass of cor 
 ruption, disease, loathsome, disgusting, helpless beings, 
 bending with palsied limbs ; some stupefied, with scarcely 
 intellect enough to grope their way among the uncurbed 
 tigers going forth to root up the lingering seeds of virtue,
 
 MRS. BEN DARBY. 221 
 
 by the unbridled fury of their desolating and savage pro 
 pensities ; where would be the million of spires that now 
 point to the Redeemer our universities ? The ocean, bloom 
 ing with the variegated colors of the world's nations, would 
 be a wilderness of waters, troubled only by the winds of 
 heaven and the rapine of human demons, knowing no law 
 but the law of might. Earth would become all that we 
 have been told of the nethermost regions." 
 
 "I must say, gentlemen," cried Duval, "that your 
 tableaux are very impressive, and, no doubt, you are 
 right." 
 
 "Would I could convince you, young friend," said Lacy, 
 "of your erroneous view of the subject. Young .men, just 
 beginning life, with every desirable breeze in their sails, 
 should not fail for the want of ballast." 
 
 " You call the Temperance Society ballast ?" asked 
 Clarence. 
 
 " I do ; and as such, I recommend it to your consider 
 ation." 
 
 " College, I suspect," said Mrs. Lacy, " is a poor place to 
 learn sobriety." 
 
 " Decidedly so, madam," replied Duval ; " yet we do 
 sometimes find a student who stands alone, as it regards 
 morality and sobriety. I had a classmate, who was the 
 most punctual, the most industrious, energetic, temperate 
 and possessing at all times, and under all circumstances, 
 perfect self-control ; yet, madam, he left college beloved 
 and respected by all." 
 
 " Such instances are rare." 
 
 " Sir, when he entered college, we attributed, with one
 
 222 MRS. BEN DARBY. 
 
 accord, his punctilious, scrupulous mode of proceeding, to 
 sordid and selfish purposes, or want of courage." 
 
 "We are very apt to judge harshly," said Mrs. Lacy, 
 " of others, but spare ourselves." 
 
 "Believe me, Mrs. Lacy, we found him highminded, 
 over-generous, unselfish, and truthful ; he became our ora 
 cle our test of human nature our standard of moral 
 worth our judge and counselor. When we found him im 
 pregnable to our shafts of ridicule our cutting insinua 
 tions, and malicious raillery, or, what was worse, our prac 
 tical jokes, which proved to be no jokes at all, we concluded 
 that he lacked spirit, or that his views were the conse 
 quences of a meager nature. This idea, like the rest, was 
 confuted by his daring courage his entire forgetfulness of 
 all animosities when danger threatened any of us." 
 
 " He had a noble disposition," remarked Mr. Temple. 
 
 " Sensitive to the quick, where honor was concerned, yet 
 he could not be forced into a duel, or even into a quarrel." 
 
 " Opposed to dueling from principle," said Mr. Lacy. 
 
 " Just so," replied Duval; " he was decided against all 
 games of chance, late hours, indolence, extra suppers, and 
 never was known to taste ardent spirits." 
 
 " I suppose you found him dull and uninteresting com 
 pany?" said Mr. Lacy. 
 
 " Not at all ; his jest was always acceptable ; his laugh 
 ter contagious ; his satire inimitable ; his room was our 
 court of justice, and he was the judge." 
 
 "Your description captivates me," said Elinor, archly; 
 " so many good qualities ; pray, Mr. Duval, was your hero 
 handsome ?"
 
 MBS. BEN DA#BY. 223 
 
 " You would not call him handsome, Miss Temple, for 
 he was not, by any means, a lady's favorite ; he never 
 sought the society of the drawing-room. Indeed, I never 
 knew him to have a single female acquaintance, except a 
 widow, who had a very profligate son ; he often visited 
 the house, and used every means in his power to reform 
 the son, but was unsuccessful." 
 
 "Did he never join in your sports ?" asked Mr. Temple. 
 
 " Heartily, while they remained, (what he considered) 
 in reasonable bounds. I must confess, he was too 
 rigid, too impenetrable. We always called him our chap 
 lain." 
 
 " Was he poetical ?" asked Kate, timidly raising her eyes 
 to the fine face of Clarence. 
 
 " Not a vein of poetry in his whole composition ; his mind 
 was a solid block of polished gold, without carving, fret 
 work, or filling." 
 
 ''Ladies must be inquisitive," said Mrs. Lacy, in her 
 soft, apologetic way, "may I avail myself of the privilege, 
 and ask the name of your paragon ?" 
 
 " Madam, his name was Harper ; he " 
 
 " Theodore ! our own Theodore ! I know it can be no 
 other," cried Mrs. Lacy, "it all sounds just like him." 
 
 " How sanguine you are, Paulina ?" said Mr. Temple, 
 laughing. " Poor fellow, it is not very likely he ever found 
 his way into a college." 
 
 " Why not, brother, tell us why?" 
 
 " Poverty, dear sister." 
 
 "What lien had poverty on such a spirit as his, rich in 
 its powers, rich in its gifts, and powerful in its resources? 
 I have been expecting all along to hear of him."
 
 224 MRS. BEN DARBY. 
 
 "Mrs. Lacy, you do my friend justice; it is Theodore 
 Harper, I speak of." 
 
 "It could be no one else," said Elinor, pale with excite 
 ment; " he was such as you describe him in boyhood. He 
 never could change." 
 
 "Where is he at present?" asked Mr. Temple; "for I 
 have sought him in vain." 
 
 "In the city, practicing medicine. I hope he will prosper." 
 
 "He will succeed he must succeed," cried Mr. Temple; 
 " that, Mr. Duval, is the spirit which keeps men from being 
 drunkards. The only sober people are not those who have 
 no taste for liquor." 
 
 "I feel so proud to hear such news of my old hero," 
 said Mrs. Lacy ; " I knew he would be a man some day." 
 
 " I will send for him the first time I feel the least sick," 
 said Kate, merrily. 
 
 "Opposition!" exclaimed Elinor. "I will get sick on 
 purpose to try his skill." 
 
 "Doctor Harper!" said Mrs. Lacy; "well, wonders will 
 never cease !" 
 
 "Doctor Harper !" said Elinor, as her head touched the 
 pillow. That night she dreamed of Wolf- Gap the play 
 ground in the apple orchard the cliff where the woodbine 
 bloomed so early and lingered so long after the blossoms 
 on the hillsides had withered and died. She sat in a plea 
 sant nook, and Theodore was making her a crown of flowers 
 and holly, while she sang 
 
 "Carry me back to Ole Virginny." 
 
 When Elinor told Hannah her dream, the latter asked if 
 the flowers were white ; " because" said she, " if they were, 
 it is a sign of a funeral."
 
 MRS. BEN DARBY. 225 
 
 21. 
 
 JUL. Not so ; but it hath been the longest night, 
 
 That e'er I watched, and the heaviest. SHAKSPEARE. 
 
 ELINOR had seated herself in a rocking-chair before the 
 bright, clear fire,, apparently in a very deep study, while 
 Mrs. Lacy was busying herself in making things charming 
 in the bed-room of her niece beating up the pillows, then 
 patting down the bed talking first to Elinor and then to 
 herself. 
 
 "Come, sit down, Aunt Paulina, and tell me why you 
 and Mr. Lacy were so long engaged ? why you did not 
 marry before ? and why you have married at last?" 
 
 "Three good questions at once, dear; but as they all 
 move on the same pivot, one answer will be sufficient we 
 were not ready." 
 
 "Well," replied Elinor, laughing; "I think you must 
 have had a great deal to do." 
 
 " How glad I am to see you smile, child. Do you 
 know you have been looking so very serious since your 
 return?" 
 
 " Strange as it may seem, Aunt Paulina, I have never 
 felt inclined to be even happy or cheerful since I last saw 
 my poor wretched mother how can I ever be so?" 
 
 "At your age, child, cheerfulness is necessary." 
 
 " How often have I wished myself back in the moun 
 tains."
 
 226 MRS. BEN DABBY. 
 
 " You little simpleton !" said Mrs. Lacy, smoothing her 
 hair back from her face; "leave this huge city for the 
 'backwoods!' When I was your age, I could not have 
 been better suited our city quarters are so ample and 
 snug. Dear me ! instead of moping about ' like the maiden 
 all forlorn,' I should have been as gay as a lark. You 
 must shake off this melancholy, indeed you must." 
 
 " I do try, indeed I do." 
 
 " Never mind, dear, you have been pent up so long, like 
 a bird in a cage, that it is no wonder your spirits begin to 
 fail. Never mind, we will make a visit, to-morrow, to 
 Brooklyn and see the Van Spankers cheer ourselves up 
 and be interesting." 
 
 " What would I not give to be gay like you !" 
 
 "Like me, child? How simple you are! It could not 
 be expected of one of your age," said Mrs. Lacy, rocking 
 herself rapidly to and fro. 
 
 " You could always make others happier." 
 
 " The secret is this, dear to be always happy your 
 self; a miserable, yawning, sighing and whining, milk- 
 and-water-natured person never added comfort to any 
 circle." 
 
 " But everybody has not the same temperament." 
 
 " Certainly not." 
 
 " Some are more unfortunate than others." 
 
 " The most unfortunate person in the world is he, or she 
 (and especially she), who thinks that their griefs and 
 sorrows are more poignant and interesting than other 
 people's they use them, and pet them, and feed them if 
 by chance, any one tries to soothe them into forgetfulness 
 or cheat them of a. smile, they deem it sacrilege. No,
 
 MRS. BEN DARBV. 227 
 
 dear, we must repress our own feelings within our own 
 hearts and live for the happiness of others." 
 
 " You always did I know you did." 
 
 "It will not do to mourn over blasted hopes, lost 
 dreams, or think, because you have been deceived in the 
 character of one individual, that all mankind is a bundle 
 of infirmity. Set the lamp a little farther back and I will 
 try and tell you a short love story." 
 
 " Oh ! do I have not heard one of your tales for a very 
 long time, dear aunt." 
 
 " Once upon a time," said Mrs. Lacy; "a young gentle 
 man came to visit your father at the old homestead, our 
 dear old mountain cottage, at the base of the Blue-Ridge, 
 where you passed so many happy hours." 
 
 " The only happy ones I ever knew." 
 
 "Well, you must not interrupt me, dear, or my old 
 crazy head will be wool-gathering. As I was saying 
 Alfred Lacy came to spend the Christmas holidays with 
 your father. They were called cronies you know the 
 men harp a great deal on old academical associations he 
 was very young, handsome, and decidedly fascinating, and 
 withal of a rich and aristocratic family. The old Virgi 
 nians, you know, are proverbial for the tenacity with which 
 they cling to the family tree. For my part, I did not feel 
 prejudiced in his favor on account of his pedigree ; had he 
 been poor and a humble tiller of the ground, I should have 
 felt and nourished the same sentiment. I was young, and 
 having lived always in retirement, was but a poor judge 
 of human nature always easily deceived." 
 
 " You have not improved much, in that respect, by ex 
 perience."
 
 228 MRS. BEN DARBT. 
 
 " May be not, child ; but then I looked only at the sur 
 face. Alfred Lacy, setting all partiality aside, was one of 
 the finest looking men I ever saw." 
 
 " He is better looking now than half the young " 
 
 " Pshaw ! keep still, child, or I shall never finish my 
 story. He staid a month with us such a short, brief 
 month it passed away on its locomotive wheels, and left 
 the dull car of time, moving down with the stoppages of 
 its breakers. He left us, with many assurances of a speedy 
 return. Everything looked dull and gray after he left 
 the birds quit singing, and chill winds came down from the 
 mountains ; the doors and windows were closed, and dark 
 winter took up its silent quarters in the little green arbor ; 
 long, dreary evenings came and went so much alike, that 
 memory had no clue to distinguish them. 
 
 At last, spring came lagging on, as it always did, smiling 
 one day and frowning the next, like a coquette ; but when 
 her warm breath had melted the ice-gems from the moun 
 tain's brow, and sent a glow of rapture through the valleys 
 and glades, decking the unfurrowed fields with the early 
 primrose, and that ' wee, modest, crimson-tipped flower,' 
 the mountain daisy, ' o' clod or stane.' 
 
 " Just after the Petersburg races were over, he returned, 
 gay and lively ; he entertained us with animated descrip 
 tions of the sports. I confess, I never felt partial to such 
 diversions ; on the contrary, I always nourished too much 
 sympathy for the poor dumb creatures, worried and jaded 
 to armise minds that might find more rational means of en 
 joyment. However, it did not seem so erroneous in him, 
 for all he said and did was au fait, at least, in my eyes. 
 Love is like a heavy smoothing-iron, when warm, it presses
 
 MRS. BEN DARBT. 229 
 
 out many wrinkles in the character of the beloved. To 
 make my confession brief, I fell deeply and desperately in 
 love, and was made completely happy by a proposal of 
 marriage. How bright and beautiful the world looked then, 
 to my ardent and sanguine heart ! I walked out into the 
 apple orchard, to the old cider press, and gave vent to my 
 girlish feelings ; I wept and laughed by turns. When I 
 thought of leaving my mountain-home, with its wild grot 
 toes, its bold peaks, and its valleys of flowers, and the 
 crystal waters that dripped so limpid to their rocky basin 
 scenes so dear tome but pshaw! how foolish I am getting! 
 Never be, child, as silly as your aunt." 
 
 " Never ! I promise you," said Elinor, with one of her 
 quiet smiles. " Go on, please." 
 
 " Great preparations were making for our nuptials. A 
 short time previous to the appointed time, my father was 
 obliged to go down to Petersburg to transact some import 
 ant business (he always sold his crops there), and I went 
 with him in order to attend to my trousseau. I was quite 
 in a feeze. Everything was pleasant and kind of dreamy. 
 I will not tell you that I was beautiful, because I am telling 
 you a true story, no fiction no Amanda Fitzallen ad 
 ventures !" 
 
 " I do not see why you are not bound to do yourself jus 
 tice," said Elinor, " for everybody that knew you, says you 
 were very lovely." 
 
 "What everybody says, must, of course, be true," replied 
 Mrs. Lacy, smiling so benignly, as she spoke, that her 
 hearer, if she had been ever so skeptical, would have 
 needed no other proof to convince her, that the proverb 
 was true in the present case.
 
 230 MBS. BBN DABBV. 
 
 " So, as I was saying," continued the narrator, "if I was 
 not beautiful, I was, at least, an heiress, which, you know, 
 is quite as attractive. It leaked out, by some means, that I 
 was about to be married to young Lacy, and I soon became 
 the 'observed of all observers.' I dressed, too, very plainly 
 yes, as plain as a pipe-stem you know I always did. I 
 had my green calash on, and a vail over my face, sitting at 
 a recess window, at the hotel, waiting the appearance of my 
 father, who had promised to be in to conduct me to Mrs. 
 Phepoe's to purchase my wedding hat. While I sat indulg 
 ing honied cogitations, my ear was captivated by the name 
 of Lacy. I instantly listened to the following conver 
 sation : 
 
 " ' Have you seen young Lacy's bride?' 
 
 " ' No ! is she here ?' 
 
 " 'Yes, so it is said,' replied a young lady. 
 
 " ' Miss Temple ?' asked the gentleman. 
 
 " 'Yes, she is very beautiful !' 
 
 " ' And very rich, and that is better at least Alfred will 
 find it so. I hope he may.' 
 
 " ' How fortunate, dear, to have such a rich wife !' 
 
 " ' Peculiarly so ! Our friend will make up his losses at 
 the races. I wish he may marry her, for he owes me a 
 round thousand, that he lost on the old Pocahontas.' 
 
 " ' Love, I thought you never betted at horse-races,' 
 whined the lady, in a honeymoon cadence ' you swore 
 you never did !' 
 
 " ' My dear, I never do, in a general way ; but the case 
 was so plain, the temptation so strong, that I could -not 
 resist. It was obvious, very much so, to me, that the nag 
 which was to run against my choice, was too heavy in the '
 
 MRS. BEN DARBV. 231 
 
 " ' Pshaw !' cried the young wife, gayly laying her hand 
 on his lips, ' I do not wish to be initiated into the myste 
 ries of horse-racing !' 
 
 " ' Forgive me, love, I will try and not offend again.' 
 
 " 'Miss Temple,' said the lady, 'little dreams of the 
 pitfall before her. If I was in her place, I would not let 
 my fortune go to pay debts of honor, races, and scrapes. 
 That young friend of yours, George, is very dissipated, 
 drinks very hard is he not a real drunkard ?' 
 
 " 'You should not, my angel, call a gentleman, especially 
 a friend of your husband's, by such names.' 
 
 " ' A gentleman should never forget himself, then.' 
 
 " ' It is all nonsense a man cannot indulge a glass with 
 out being dubbed a toper ! it is villainous !' 
 
 " 'Alfred Lacy is, my dear, an intolerable drunkard, and 
 you know it,' said the lady. 
 
 " ' He is a fine, jovial, high-minded fellow, and if he does 
 occasionally take a glass too much he is none the worse 
 for it.' 
 
 " ' George, are you really taking Mr. Lacy's part, or are 
 you only teazing me ?' 
 
 " ' Only teazing you, love, because you are so opposed to 
 our enjoying ourselves in our own way.' 
 
 " ' You may call it your, I am glad it is not my way.' 
 
 " ' So am I ; but see, the carriage is at the door, and it is 
 getting late.' 
 
 " I sat for some moments perfectly absorbed in thought; 
 puzzled by the unexpected intelligence I had gained 
 pained and mortified beyond expression." 
 
 " 'How deceitful this world is,' said an old gentleman, 
 who had been engaged with a pamphlet at the center-table,
 
 232 MRS. BEN DARBV. 
 
 'there is not a greater gambler or horse-racer living than 
 George Smith.' 
 
 " ' Ah ! indeed, said I, for I perceived the speaker was 
 addressing me.' ' 
 
 " He had been young Lacy's greatest tempter he had 
 followed him with indefatigable energy, and now, that he 
 finds him struggling in the web that he has laid for him, 
 he sports over it ; the friendship of such men counts very 
 little in time of need.' 
 
 " ' His wife is a beautiful woman,' said I, ' and it is to be 
 hoped she will reform him.' 
 
 " 'Who ever heard of a woman making her husband 
 sober ! I defy an angel to come down from the third Hea 
 vens, and do it. If a man, with the help of his reason, 
 can't control himself, how can you expect a poor, weak, con 
 fiding woman to manage him ; no, there ought to be some 
 thing done to protect such men against themselves.' 
 
 " ' The Temperance Society is doing a great deal in some 
 parts of the country,' remarked a dry-looking gentleman, 
 with green spectacles, ' it has been the means of reforming 
 many in the village I came from.' 
 
 " 'Yes, no doubt, and will grow and expand until its ban 
 ners wave from eVery civilized point ; but, sir, after moral 
 suasion has done its best, there will still be a mighty, I may 
 say, herculean work to perform. The temperance lecturer 
 finds converts in those men whose worth and better feelings 
 are too radical to yield at once to the love of liquor, but are 
 comparatively stupefied by its influence not entirely 
 burnt out. Sometimes, in my country, a fire breaks out in 
 the prairie grounds ; now, where the bottom is rich and the 
 grass roots deep in the soil, though the fire burns strong
 
 MRS. BEN DABBY. 233 
 
 and long, the spring rains and the summer sun bring it all 
 up again as fresh and fine as ever ; but not so when the 
 grass is wiry, and the soil loose, dry and porous, the fire 
 strikes down and blackens it to the very quick ; just so the 
 drunkard a man with good principles and good natural 
 feelings does not part with them in a jiffy.' 
 
 " ' The habitual drunkard lays himself open to every temp 
 tation ; there is no knowing what a man will do when 
 drunk ; they dont know themselves how can they ?' 
 
 " 'Well, friend Jones, if a man gets in such a situation 
 as that he ought to have a check a law to keep him 
 straight moral suasion has nothing to do with brutes ; it 
 does influence, as I said before, men who have souls.' 
 
 " I heard my father's step along the hall, and hurried to 
 meet him ; I left the old gentleman very much interested 
 in the subject they were discussing ; which got the best of 
 the argument I never knew. 
 
 " What I did or said for hours I have no recollec 
 tion of. 
 
 " The parlors were brilliant with lights, and crowded 
 with the gay and fashionable; my kind father, thinking 
 to make me happy, whispered that Alfred Lacy would soon 
 make his appearance. I resolved to bury in my mind the 
 hateful discovery I had made ; my word was given I 
 would not retract, but I determined to dedicate myself to 
 the restoration of his moral nature ; I would pay his debts, 
 sustain him aid watch over him redeem him be his 
 tutelar angel cheer him through trial, perhaps, degrada 
 tion. I had made up my mind to be the wife of an inebri 
 ate I could not call him drunkard ; no, there was some 
 thing so disgusting, so revolting in the word drunkard, 
 20
 
 234 MRS. BEN DARBY. 
 
 what had it to do in common with the elegant, the refined, 
 the spiritual lover? Oh ! it was offensive to the delicacy 
 of woman's soul. Alfred came ; he was animated and 
 devoted all that I could wish him to be. I soon forgot, 
 in his presence, in the power of his fascination, the facts I 
 had discovered. We left Petersburg, and returned to the 
 mountains. 
 
 " Everything was arranged for our nuptials even the 
 day and the hour designated ; distant relatives were invited, 
 and all the wedding paraphernalia examined and cri 
 ticised. 
 
 " A few days previous to the consummation ' so de 
 voutly to be wished,' my father was called suddenly 
 to a neighboring village to transact some business ; I 
 requested to accompany him as I was always in the habit 
 of doing ; at first he objected to it, but a few caresses won 
 his consent, and we left on horseback. We were returning 
 gayly home, when my horse became suddenly very unruly, 
 and before I could gather up my careless reins, he threw 
 me several feet over his head, and in my fall, my right 
 hand was so sprained that I could not use it in any way." 
 
 " Poor, dear Aunt Lena," said Elinor, kissing her cheek, 
 to have such a fall, just when you were going to be mar 
 ried too !" 
 
 " Everything happens for the best ; but I could not con 
 ceive how that could be for the best while my hand pained 
 me so ; but I saw plainly enough after a while. 
 
 " My father left me at the little inn on the road side you 
 know the Cross-Keys ; it was then kept by Mrs. Butterfield, 
 a very good, kind, respectable woman ; we had known her 
 a long time ; my father promised to come for me before
 
 MRS. BEN DARBY. 235 
 
 breakfast ; as it was very cloudy, he said he was afraid to 
 drive the carriage after dark. My kind hostess declared 
 she would soon settle the pain in my wrist, and keep me 
 safe and sound until his return ; good Mrs. Butterfield bound 
 my sprain up in a hollyhock poultice, and after forcing me 
 to drink a pint of 'yarb tea,' declared me in a fine state of 
 convalescence. 
 
 " The hollyhock preparation did act as a charm, and after 
 supper it began to rain as hard as it could pour. I laughed 
 and chatted with the good old lady, who thought to sport 
 me out of the blues by talking about my approaching wed 
 ding, and telling me many wonderful occurrences, which 
 went to prove 'that there was many a slip between the cup 
 and the lip.' 
 
 " ' But I think,' says the old lady, ' of all the sorrowful 
 books I ever read, ' Charlotty Temple' beats all. Poor 
 dear critter ! but didn't she suffer ! If I had been in her 
 place I should certainly have put a per'od to my existern.' 
 
 " Our conversation was here interrupted by a loud 
 commotion at the stable-yard. My hostess looked alarmed 
 such yelping and whooping I suppose never was heard 
 in a civilized place. 
 
 " ' What is it ?' I asked, when I saw Mrs. Butterfield 
 hastily returning from the window. 
 
 " ' Why, nothing upon yearth,' replied she, ' but them 
 desperit fellows come back again. I told them over and 
 over again that they should not stay here ; but I see they 
 are determined to have their way. Go up, dear, to the front 
 chamber, and don't show your face down here. I will be 
 up with you as soon as I get rid of these rowdies. I wish 
 there was a law to keep them straight !'
 
 236 MRS. BEN DARBY. 
 
 " I was not long obeying orders. I glided rapidly up and 
 bolted my door. As I passed through the entry, I caught 
 a glimpse of several figures disrobing themselves of wet 
 hats and cloaks. 
 
 " In the days I am speaking of, those little inns always 
 kept liquors of various kinds, which were generally drank 
 by travelers, and were charged in the bill as a necessary 
 appendage. Mrs. Butterfield had always borne a good 
 character, but according to the custom of the times, and 
 country she lived in, necessity compelled her to pursue the 
 same course. To tell you the truth, my dear, they looked 
 upon drinking liquor as a matter of course. To set out 
 the decanter to every male visitor was not only a custom in 
 the humbler walks of life, but in the most aristocratic circles, 
 with this difference the wines and liquors were more ex 
 quisite, and they were poured from a rich cut-glass decanter 
 into precious goblets ; but the practice was the same, and it 
 produced the same effects. Since the Temperance Society 
 has done away so many of those pernicious fashions, every 
 portion of the country has felt its beneficial influence, and I 
 have no doubt " 
 
 " Never mind the Temperance Society, dear aunt ; but 
 tell me what became of you." 
 
 " Well, as I was sitting by the light of the huge pine 
 fagot, that blazed on the hearth, turning over the leaves of 
 the little book which Mrs. Butterfield had loaned me, 
 I heard a tremendous bustle below loud and vociferous 
 sounds of merriment the laughing of the negroes and the 
 barking of dogs cursing, swearing, scuffling and falling ; 
 indeed, I cannot begin to tell you what a compound of 
 multifarious noises came in alternate x peals. After some
 
 MRS. BEN DAKBY. 237 
 
 time, a servant brought me a candle and some apples, with 
 her mistress' compliments. 
 
 " 'What has happened below, Patty ?' 
 
 " 'Nothin', Miss Lena, only dem obstropolis fellows what 
 old Missis sent away just afore you come.' 
 
 " ' Who are they ? what do they want ?' 
 
 " ' Law, Miss ! dey is only spreeing it ; and Missus says 
 she does not t'ank them for coming here drunk, nohow ; 
 and masrer gone, and marse Johnny is afeard of them, any 
 how. Missus says they is a desperit set, and she has to 
 keep not minding um dat's all.' ' 
 
 "I began to feel very uneasy, and went to the window 
 to see how the weather looked. It was very dark, and 
 the storm was increasing in its violence one of our moun 
 tain tornadoes. The lightning was very vivid and frequent, 
 showing at every flash the dark mountains in the distance. 
 The roaring of the thunder was sometimes heard amid the 
 the uproarious s6unds below. I thought of my calm, 
 peaceful home, and, although it was but a few miles, it 
 seemed an immeasurable distance. The storm increased, 
 and at every peal of thunder I heard some wild, incohe 
 rent expostulation, some blasphemous oaths addressed to 
 Him who 
 
 ' Plants his footsteps in the sea, 
 And rides upon the storm.' 
 
 Ah ! my dear child, that night I was initiated into the vo 
 cabulary of the drunkard. At last, for it seemed an age, 
 Mrs. Butterfield came up, and hastily closed the door after 
 her ; then drawing a long breath, she seated herself by the 
 candle-stand which stood between us. 
 
 " ' How sorry I am all this has happened ! If it did not 
 rain so hard I would send for your father,'
 
 238 MRS. BEN DARBY. 
 
 "Just then we heard some one run up stairs. 
 
 " ' Mother ! mother !' cried John, pushing open the door, 
 'they will come up we can't keep them down. They 
 swear they saw the young lady at the window, looking out 
 at the storm. Tom Slaughter says she shall drink with 
 him.!' or. 
 
 " ' Give them some of that double ractified brandy, that 
 your daddy brought up last Fourth of July it will soon 
 settle their hash, and they will roll over in piles the drunken 
 beasts ! coming to decent houses to cut up their devilment !' 
 
 " ' They are coming up, mothei* what shall I do ?' 
 
 " 'Strike them down, one at a time ! Dear bless me ! it 
 is too bad !' 
 
 "Johnny did as he was ordered he struck down the first 
 one that gained the top step. We heard him fall. 
 
 " 'Never mind," cried Mrs. Butterfield, ' 'Squire Temple 
 shall hear of all this to-morrow !' 
 
 " ' D 'Squire Temple !' said a voice that pierced my 
 
 very soul, and the next moment the door was pushed wide 
 open, and in rushed two human beings, that looked like 
 fiends from the lower regions. 
 
 " I raised up involuntarily as they came in, and stood 
 calmly awaiting the result of the unwelcome interruption." 
 
 " Oh !" said Elinor, "I certainly should have fainted." 
 
 " I never was one of the fainting sort, darling ; but who 
 should I recognize in one of those bloated, hideous-looking 
 beings but Alfred Lacy the fastidious, the fashionable 
 and recherche" ! 
 
 " ' Confound the luck ladies, your most obe-dient,' cried 
 he, stumbling forward. ' Landlady, where did you start up 
 such devilish fine game ?'
 
 MRS. BEN DARBY. 39 
 
 "'That's Miss Temple,' said Mrs. Butterfield ; 'you 
 know well enough who it is, and if you lay the weight of 
 your finger on her, you will be sorry sorry enough for 
 your impudence, I can tell you.' 
 
 " ' Ah ! bless my stars ; I wish I may be eternally bl 
 hie! if ever I had an idea hie! that I should have hie ! 
 the ecstatic pleasure hie ! of see-hing Miss Tern-pel. 
 I wish I may be hie ! if she is not de-velish superior to 
 what we expected. I wish the lightning may turn me to a 
 cinder, if she is not the best looking girl in Amherst county, 
 by G hie ! See, Slaughter, here's the girl of my heart 
 the one I shall marry next week hie ! if I am not too 
 d hie ! drunk.' 
 
 " The companion he addressed had left the room, at the 
 bidding of the landlady, and Alfred was swinging himself 
 from side to side in the doorway, like a loose sign-post in a 
 storm. 
 
 "He made an attempt, at last, to approach me ; ' Alfred 
 Lacy,' said I, 'I am ashamed of you; leave me instantly.' 
 
 "'No ! no! not so cruel, my lovely dam-sel hie ! I'll 
 
 go, if you are so d hie ! particular. What if a fellow 
 
 is a little snap-ped ? only a little corned ; not so d-drunk, 
 but just enough to make him kingly or glorious, my little 
 wife that is to be ! Now I am proud to hie ! acknow 
 ledge it. What a lucky dog ! Huzza ! Mrs. Butterfield 
 I am the boy in the Gap what shot the robin !' 
 
 " ' Yes, and if you don't put down them stars, just as fast 
 as your drunken legs will let you, I'll know why.' 
 
 "' I will not intrude hie! I see you are d hie! 
 
 aristocratic to-night, so I wish you a d good night I
 
 240 MRS. BEN DARBY. 
 
 do, by thunder ! Don't be so unforgiving, love ; this is my 
 last spree.' 
 
 "As he left the room, I mentally exclaimed, ' That is the 
 man I have chosen for my protector through a world of 
 sorrow and tribulation ; that is the man that I have prom 
 ised to take the place of a noble, honest father; he is se 
 lected as the arbiter of my fate the foundation of my 
 earthly happiness the guardian of the goodly fortune 
 which it has pleased my Maker to bestow upon me. No ! 
 no ! never ! I dare not risk it.' 
 
 "Mrs. Butterfield and myself sat up during the night, and 
 heard, from time to time, the loud breathing of the human 
 beasts which were scattered about the floors, too enfeebled 
 to crawl to their beds. Groans, curses, and wild ravings, 
 filled the measure of the night, and as soon as it was light, 
 my father came for me. That night left a lasting impres 
 sion on my mind ; they were horrible realities no work of 
 the fancy. It all transpired before my vision. I felt no 
 pity no moving of compassion for my lover, but the most 
 loathsome disgust. I felt debased at the thought of ever 
 having had my name linked in any way with his. Oh ! 
 how all these feelings were soothed by the benign reflection 
 that it was not too late to save myself. 
 
 'He wrote very penitential letters, but they were returned 
 with all his favors, and only these words, ' I dare not 
 marry a drunkard.' 
 
 "My father paid his debts, and set him off again in the 
 world, free. He long since refunded the loan, with its in 
 terest." 
 
 " And he has never drank since ?" asked Elinor.
 
 MRS. BEN DARBY. 241 
 
 "No, his frolic at old Butterfield's was his last. I have 
 seen him very seldom during that time, but you see how it 
 has all worked around. To make a finish of it, love, when 
 I saw Mr. Lacy again, when my father was on his death 
 bed, I could not but feel a great deal for him, to think how 
 he had struggled on through all his difficulties, to subdue 
 his infirmity ; I was fully convinced it was my duty to be 
 come his wife." 
 
 " I think so too," replied Elinor, "and I am very sure 
 you will never repent. He must be thoroughly changed. 
 He says he has not drank a drop for fifteen years." 
 
 "At least." 
 
 " Then he has been faithful and true." 
 
 " Yes, but if he should, by any means, fall into his old 
 habits, what shall I do, Elinor ? I am sure I could not en 
 dure a drunkard." 
 
 " I could admire young Duval, if it was not that I 
 suspect him of a decided predilection for his cups." 
 
 " How can you suppose it, Elinor ? tell me." 
 
 " His wit is fascinating ; he is master of the English lan 
 guage, and converses better than any gentleman I know ; 
 but I tremble for fear that my suspicions are true." 
 
 " Tell me why." 
 
 " It is quite impossible for me to explain myself. There 
 is something about him that whispers it something outre; 
 so like my poor, unhappy mother ; an indescribable domin 
 ion of a secret spring pervading the whole nature." 
 
 " He is very handsome ; perhaps you have discovered 
 this since you suspicioned him of loving your cousin Kate." 
 
 " Pshaw ! you could not accuse me of such injustice, 
 Aunt Paulina, beside, he chews cloves, I know he does." 
 21
 
 242 MRS. BEN DARBY. 
 
 "What of that?" 
 
 " All drunkards do that have enough self-esteem left to 
 wish to conceal their hateful practices. I do abhor cloves ; 
 my poor mother always kept them in her mouth. I am de 
 termined never to fall in love " 
 
 " You are determined never to fall and break your neck, 
 if you can help it always a mental reservation." 
 
 " I was going to say, until I could stake my life on the 
 stability of my intended." 
 
 " Oh ! poor pet, some day you will wake and find yoiir 
 plans all fictions, and that it is hard to be educated in 
 the certainties of life. After all our attainments, we have 
 to graduate in the school of experience." 
 
 " Some take lessons very early in life. I know I never 
 shall be happy again. The miserable position in which I 
 am placed, mortifies and subdues me. No, I never shall be 
 happy." 
 
 " Never is a long time, Elinor." 
 
 "Never in this world," added the young girl, with a 
 faint smile. 
 
 " There is another world, my child, a purer and a better ; 
 that thought has comforted many a heart far more forlorn 
 than yours. It comes, rainbow-like, in our dark skies, 
 stealing the mind from its bitterness of thought, and carry 
 ing it beyond time and space, to ineffable glory. It is 
 growing late ; good night, dear pleasant dreams." 
 
 Good night, reader !
 
 MRS. BEN DARBY. 243 
 
 22* 
 
 The purest treasure mortal times afford, 
 
 Is spotless reputation ; that away, 
 
 Men are but gilded loam, or painted clay. SHAKSPEAEE. 
 
 IN a little room, in the back part of a very indifferent 
 boarding house, in Anthony street, lay the dying sister of 
 young Sandford. When led by the. strong arm of his con 
 ductor to the room, he was scarcely sober enough to under 
 stand the condition of things ; but when the light was 
 placed so its rays fell on her face, he staggered toward the 
 bed. 
 
 " Brother ! dear brother !" said the invalid, when her 
 heavy eyes were raised to his face, " where have you been 
 so long so long ! Oh I brother !" 
 
 "I came, Letty, just as soon as I could. You are bet 
 ter, now ; don't you think, they tried to make me believe 
 you were dying but they couldn't come it ! no sir !" 
 
 " Hush, George," said his weeping mother, " have you 
 no feeling ? Oh ! Heavenly Father, let this cup pass " 
 
 " Mother, it is no use you can't carry it on. You need 
 not get into the theatricals ! Lyman Mason told me it was 
 all a hoax !" 
 
 "Brother !" gasped the convulsed girl, "listen brother 
 it is all true. I have but a short time to live try and be 
 yourself. I want to talk to you I wish to tell you of 
 heaven !" 
 
 " By heavens ! I have had talk enough ; and if you don't
 
 244 MKS. BEN DARBY. 
 
 think you'll die just to-night, I would like to go back and 
 finish that game of whist. Come, be a kind, good, sweet 
 girl, and say you will not die until to-morrow now do, 
 will you?" 
 
 Mrs. Sandford rushed to the bed, and endeavored to 
 drag him away, but he flung her off, and, shaking her 
 rudely, said, "Ah ! old lady, you act pretty well but it 
 wont go off as it does at Burton's. I know what you are 
 up to !" 
 
 " George, for mercy sake, leave your dying sister !" 
 
 "My dying sister is doing pretty well, I thank you, 
 madam '." 
 
 " George ! George !" cried the frantic mother ; " come 
 with me leave Letty alone. Leave her to die by herself 
 you know she is dying !" 
 
 "No ! no ! sweet sister, I'll see you off; when you are 
 ready to go, you must whistle !" As he spoke in a wild, 
 broken voice, he leaned his haggard face over the pillow of 
 the dying sufferer. 
 
 " Ah! brother," she whispered in a low, quivering voice, 
 " you will think of this, when I am gone ; then your heart 
 will ache ; poor boy ! little dream you of the end !" and 
 with her weak hand, she parted the curls from his brow, 
 and looked lovingly into his eyes. 
 
 Mrs. Sandford, who had left the room, returned with 
 assistance. ' 
 
 An unearthly scream, from the poor girl, drew them to 
 her side. 
 
 Who can describe the horror of the scene that presented 
 itself ? 
 
 The long, white arms of the young girl were wreathed
 
 MRS. BEN DARBY. 245 
 
 around the neck of the drunken brother, and her whole 
 frame writhing in the terrific throes of a strong convulsion. 
 He, maddened by the liquor which he had been quaffing, 
 for the last week, was still impressed with the mental 
 fantasy, that his pure, dying sister was only trying to de 
 ceive him, and he had been tickling her in order to make 
 her confess the ruse. 
 
 They tore him from her, and while they were forcing him 
 to his room, the doctor was summoned, and means were 
 resorted to in order to effect relief, but all was vain ; con 
 vulsion succeeded convulsion, until exhausted nature would 
 bear no more. The form relaxed the slender arms lay 
 listlessly across her settling heart her hair draped in 
 damp masses over her brow, and her contorted features set 
 tled gradually into their original placidity. A beautiful 
 smile, caught from some whispering angel, flitted like a 
 beam of light over her dying face, and raising her eyes, 
 which flickered with their last intelligence, to the agonized 
 parent, whispered, "Mother, mother!" but so low, so 
 faint was it she who spoke ? or was it fancy ? For the 
 gentle, the redeemed, had winged its flight through that 
 mysterious labyrinth which separates us from the spirit- 
 land. 
 
 The wild screams of the dying girl in a measure restored 
 the alienated senses of the miserable brother. He stole 
 back to the room from time to time, listening to the parox 
 ysms of mental and bodily sufferings, expressed in heart 
 rending cries and exclamations ; then hurrying back, as if 
 fearing detection, the wretched man would bury his face in 
 his hands, and tremble with the excited rage of remorse, 
 and imaginary evils ; demons whispering close to his ear
 
 246 MRS. BEN DARBY. 
 
 serpents with fiery tongues, hissing curses at him fiends, 
 of hellish aspect, prying in his face, then, mocking him with 
 fantastic grimaces, and ludicrous caresses. The lynx-eyed, 
 Janus-faced tormentor, with its nondescript limbs, its nails 
 of fire, and its putrid breath, pressing upon his prostrate 
 form, and drawing the hot blood from his throbbing tem 
 ples then dragging him down interminable precipices, 
 where crowds of human skeletons were performing hideous 
 and uncouth gymnastics drops of cold perspiration stood 
 like beads upon his brow, while burning coals of living fire 
 consumed the very fluid of existence. Then came a lucid 
 interval, and his reviving consciousness restored the mem 
 ories of the late evening. Consciousness of his brutal and 
 extravagant conduct, was fully comprehended ; he was 
 entirely overcome, and sank into a profound apathy, which 
 lasted until the remains of the departed loved one was clad 
 in the habiliments of death. 
 
 Young gentleman, if you have ever abused the precious 
 gifts of your Maker, reflect ! Perhaps, as you read this, 
 you may consider it, at first view, a picture of the fancy 
 one too highly colored, or too extravagantly drawn. If you 
 will but reflect upon it impartially, you will be constrained 
 to confess that the artiste is indeed cold, very cold, in her 
 delineations. Consider, for a moment, the perfection of 
 man's faculties, the delights and exercises of the mind and 
 heart, when uncorrupted, as offered by the hand which 
 formed him this earth, with its fairy blessedness ; its gar 
 dens of delight; its arbors of domestic love; its temples of 
 science; the aspirations of its intellect; the Eden of its affec 
 tions, and the throne of worship to its Architect ! If this 
 be time, is not the violator of its laws an inconsistent
 
 MBS. BEN DARBY. 247 
 
 creature ? Is not the drunkard a problem ? Is not his 
 course through life a strange one ? when he might walk 
 along the green fields, beneath the blessed sun-light of his 
 wise, provident, and indulgent Maker ? 
 
 It is midnight ! Young Sandford steals like a fiend from 
 his room yes, a fiend; but strange to say, he walked up 
 right, and in the image of God. He passes with impre 
 cations, his wretched, and exhausted mother, who watches 
 alone, the beloved corpse. 
 
 His vision is turned to one spot a white muslin curtain 
 shrouded it from his view. Sympathy shudders at the 
 spectacle, and he scoffs at its electric influence. 
 
 Yes, he pollutes the sanctuary of the dead with his 
 presence ; like the genius of guilt, he lingers about the 
 bier, but is afraid to raise the vail that conceals the silent 
 form. Trembling in every limb, he quails beneath the 
 purity of her maiden bed; he dares not draw aside the 
 curtain, but heaven assists him a strong breeze from the 
 broken window-pane, wafts aside the slender tissue, and 
 death reveals itselt in beautiful, yet horrible reality, to the 
 cowardly culprit. There lay the spotless shrine, but the 
 sanctified spirit had wended its way upward upward, to 
 the home of the angels ! He sees the smooth brow ; the 
 motionless lips ; the long dark eyelashes, laid in everlasting 
 repose upon the blanched cheek. He sees the little white 
 jessamine blossoms, that had so long been flowering on the 
 crumbling window-sill, lying among the twisted folds of 
 her hair a frail, tender, yet immolated emblem of the 
 dead! Bitterly he gazes, until his mind travels back 
 over the past. She was the counterpart of his being ; 
 they opened their eyes to the same beam of day ; they
 
 248 MRS. BEN DARBY. 
 
 slumbered in the same cradle ; were nurtured at the same 
 fountain ; sported on the same greensward ; hand in hand 
 they journeyed through the path of childhood, the first 
 steps of youth ; offered their prayers at the same altar. 
 Thus it went on, until a shadow fell between them it 
 widened it darkened, until a gulf parted them the deep, 
 deep abyss of sin and pollution. While the seeds of moral 
 virtue were fructuating unto full fruition, in the genial soil 
 of her mind ; his lost, day by day, their powers of healthy 
 growth, and dwindled into a supineness, unaffected by any 
 agent but the influences of the enchanted cup. Yes, he 
 looks, and his perverted nature maddens at the sight 
 hope flies his presence there is no hereafter so black and 
 turbid as his own soul despair seizes him one dark pur 
 pose takes possession of his mind onward he goes upon 
 his horrid mission. There is nothing on earth, in sea, or air 
 that claims a thought; the suggestion of guilt and madness, 
 has full dominion of his unguarded reason. He seeks the 
 home of slighted trust of infamy and ruin. The weep 
 ing mother is bathing the burning brow of her infant. It 
 is dying that first, solitary pledge of unblessed love. 
 Cold cold blows the night wind, drifting the frost 
 through the shattered casement, and the broken roof. It 
 is past midnight there are no friends there no physician. 
 There is no Bible there no comforts the law has seized 
 all and fast goes the spirit of that babe to its God. And 
 she the young the erring one thick fall her burning 
 tears. Famished, and shivering, alone with the dying and 
 her God in that awful hour, memory points to her rustic 
 home mother ! father ! bitter memories. So goes that 
 innocent to Him who gave it being, and redeemed it with
 
 MBS. BEN DARBT. 249 
 
 his blood upon the cross. Can it be, that even in that 
 hour so solemn, so sacred the fiend enters ? Yes, again 
 into the presence of death, he staggers his curse echoes 
 over the quivering features of his dying infant. The un 
 conscious murderer looks at his work. She, the broken 
 hearted, will soon follow, for the worm is at the core of the 
 flower. He finds around him, look which way he may, 
 the embodiment of hell. Returning reason, tells him of 
 the mother, from whose heart he had plucked that flower 
 its only flower he thinks of the violet eyes of that babe, 
 when they first opened to the light. The past, the present, 
 crowd upon him such black memories move his spirit. 
 He lays his purse and his watch upon the tottering table. 
 He smiles grimly upon the wanderings of the dying child 
 curls his lips with scorn, at the writhing features of the weep 
 ing mother then quaffs again to the dregs, the fatal cup, 
 and hurries out. He seeks the water's edge it is past 
 midnight a universe of religion and loveliness is above 
 his head the bright world of azure overhangs all, as with 
 a blessing. He staggers on with a curse he heeds 
 them not the stars seem to entreat him. The gentle 
 moon breathes purity the hush of the scene bids him 
 reflect upon its Author, and his own destiny. The wide 
 bay sleeps gently as childhood. One wild shriek a 
 splash and all is still again. The light of the morning 
 reveals the end on earth, of this confirmed, yet youthful 
 drunkard! 
 
 His body was rescued from the waves, and laid in the 
 robes of death, by the side of his sister, to slumber until 
 the resurrection. They were buried together the pure 
 and impure the guilty and the innocent.
 
 250 MBS. BEN DARBY. 
 
 Thus passed away that God-like intellect from the 
 theater of action. Yet, strange to say, that being is a 
 representative of a great portion of this civilized and intel 
 lectual country, whose thousands of churches point heaven 
 ward where the revelation of God exists where the 
 arts flourish, and where science walks the very pavements 
 pf the sky. 
 
 This is the picture of the young drunkard. It is true 
 no phantasm of the brain hundreds such as he, are 
 seen lying in the gutters and streets, or carousing on its 
 highways. 
 
 Oh! young gen tie man! 
 
 " Look thou not upon the wine when it is red. When it 
 giveth his color in the cup. When it moveth itself aright." 
 
 " At the last, it biteth like a serpent and stingeth like an 
 adder."
 
 MRS. BEN DARBY. 251 
 
 Cjupttr 23. 
 
 Buttercups and daisies, 
 
 Oh! the pretty flowers, 
 Coming ere the spring-time 
 
 To tell of sunny hours. MART HOWMT. 
 
 "WHERE did you get those beautiful flowers?" asked 
 ElinDr, as she sat watching Hannah, who was pulling to 
 pieces a huge bouquet and arranging them to suit her own 
 fancy in the rich vases on the center-table. 
 
 " That would be telling," replied that notable personage, 
 with a smile. 
 
 "A secret ! I ask pardon." 
 
 " That is a most splendid rose, Miss Elinor," said Han 
 nah; "only see how full and snowy it looks for all the 
 world like a bride in winter, pale and sweet." 
 
 " Be a good girl, Hannah, and tell me where you got 
 them." 
 
 "At Fulton market, dear; they were a present from a 
 gentleman." 
 
 "Ah, indeed!" 
 
 "A gentleman of taste !" said Hannah, holding up a 
 flower. 
 
 "Undoubtedly!" cried Elinor. "How fresh and fra 
 grant !" 
 
 " See these beautiful Touch-me-nots or no, I mean For 
 get-me-nots," continued Hannah, laughing.
 
 252 MRS. BEN DABBY. 
 
 " Quite a different signification," said Elinor. 
 
 "I will put them on your toilet-table ain't they charm 
 ingdelightful?" 
 
 "Nothing could be prettier! Thank you, Hannah." 
 
 " Says he, when he gave them to me, says he, ' Hannah, 
 do you know the name of those flowers?' ' Surely, I do/ 
 says I ; ' why, you must fancy something green to ask me 
 such a question be-sure, and they are Johnny -jumpups !' 
 Well, I wish you could have heard him laugh. ' Miss 
 Elinor used to call them Forget-me-nots,' said he." Han 
 nah looked slyly and mischievously at the young girl. 
 
 " How did he know what I called them?" asked Elinor, 
 eagerly. 
 
 " He saw you on the boat on the New World." 
 
 " Theodore Harper!" said Elinor, drawing nearer to the 
 table and bending over the flowers to inhale their fra 
 grance ; "I know it must be Theodore." 
 
 "Aren't they sweet?" asked Hannah. 
 
 " Yes; but tell me, Hannah was it Theodore?" 
 
 " No more, nor less ' as large as life and quite as natu 
 ral,' " replied Hannah ; "he has returned to the city he 
 is going to attend the medical lectures, and has, I do affirm, 
 quite a healing air of his own -it is enough to cure one of 
 the jaundice to look at him. He is, I know, just as good 
 as he ever was, and a little more so just as kind and 
 thoughtful. Don't you think! dear, that he has been to 
 see father and mother, and he says it does his heart good 
 to see them living like Christians having family prayers 
 and taking the newspapers. He went with father to a tem 
 perance meeting, and was so well pleased, that the old man 
 made a short speech and gave in his experience."
 
 MRS. BEN DABBY. 253 
 
 " Is he handsomer than he was?" asked Elinor. 
 
 " I can't see as he is he dresses very nice and plain 
 none of your fling-a-me-jings, but a real, proud, aristocra 
 tic look, and Avears his face as slick as a smoothing-iron. 
 
 " Then, he talks like a book I mean, a book that can 
 be understood. Says I, ' Mr. Harper, I suppose you will 
 come and see us old friends ?' ' Perhaps it may have been 
 out of sight out of mind,' says he ; ' I never forget my 
 friends, but perhaps they have all forgotten me ; however, 
 I must get my profession first and then come more pleasur 
 able pursuits.' 
 
 " ' So you are learning to kill and cure?' said I ' to be 
 a physician ? Well, I '11 try and coax up some disease,' 
 says I, ' so I can judge of your ability.' Then he laughed 
 again and looked so much like he used to, that I could not 
 help saying : ' La ! Mr. Harper ! you are the very same old 
 seven-and-sixpence !' 
 
 " 'All but the hod, Hannah !' 
 
 " ' Don't mention it,' said I. So, dear, I have told you 
 all about it." 
 
 " Did he tell you where he had been, and what he had 
 been doing?" 
 
 " He has been to New Orleans and Texas, and the West 
 Indies, and then round by the Cape of Good Hope, then 
 Oh, my gracious ! I have forgotten half down the Hud 
 son on the New World !" and Hannah laughed in her jovial 
 quiet way. "What he has been doing is another thing. I did 
 not feel authorized to inquire ; ' modesty is a quality that 
 highly adorns a woman.' I expect, however, he has 
 been studying mathematics, Greek, Hebrew, and all the 
 sciences metaphysics, and humanology, and so forth."
 
 254 MRS. BEN DARBY. 
 
 "How did you make all these discoveries?" asked Eli 
 nor, with a glowing cheek. 
 
 " A man is half known when you see him when he 
 speaks you know him outright. It is easy enough to see 
 he has been trying to make a man of himself; but I struck 
 him up in a heap when I said : ' I suppose, you have heard 
 Miss Temple was married?' Says I, ' she has done well.' 
 ' I hope so/ says he ; ' she was always a fine, dear, 
 little girl.' 
 
 " ' Oh ! I don't imagine that it is supposed I meant Miss 
 Elinor,' says I. 
 
 " ' Miss Paulina?' says he ; ' Oh, yes ! I never dreamed 
 of her marrying.' ' : 
 
 " Did he send me these flowers ?" asked Elinor, in a tre 
 mulous voice. 
 
 " No, dear, he did not. He bought them from a poor 
 little girl, to get rid of her he gave them to me in order 
 to get rid of them." 
 
 "And he looks well?" asked Elinor. 
 
 "Very well, dear." 
 
 "You know, Hannah, he never was a beauty," said 
 Elinor, with a faint smile. 
 
 " ' Pretty is as pretty does,' " rejoined the girl, brushing 
 a cobweb from the mantlepiece, as she carefully placed her 
 flowers to be admired and discussed.
 
 MRS. BEN DARBY. 255 
 
 25. 
 
 LADY P. so that in speech, in gait, 
 
 In diet, in affections of delight, 
 In moulding rules, humors of blood, 
 He was the mark, glass, copy, and hook 
 That fashioned others. SHAKSPEARE. 
 
 CLARENCE DTJVAL continued his visits at Mr. Temple's, 
 and became so interested in their society, and that of the 
 Fairmonts, that his old companions complained of neglect ; 
 every endeavor to entice him back to his old habits proved 
 abortive. When it was announced that he had become a 
 member of the Temperance Society, and had enchanted a 
 large and enlightened audience with his eloquence upon the 
 subject, his old cronies gave him up in despair. 
 
 In vain they had beset his evening path his noon-day 
 walks ; in vain they had marked his out-goings and his in 
 comings; hovering, like spirits of darkness, over the frail 
 and tempted, as greedy for their prey as the starved vul 
 ture that pounces upon the entangled lamb struggling for 
 its freedom, they had beset him in every form, but the 
 counter-charm to their efforts was more powerful in its 
 influence, at least for the time being. 
 
 The stay which held him in the bounds of temperance and 
 sobriety was the anchor of hope, launched among the un 
 certain moorings of love. He had become so deeply 
 enamored of Kate Fairmont, that all former loves and pro 
 pensities were forgotten, or laid by for the present.
 
 256 MRS. BEN DARBY. 
 
 Clarence Duval possessed so many advantages above 
 the ordinary attainments of young gentlemen, even of his 
 standing in society, that it was almost impossible to imagine 
 that temptation to evil, in any form, could seduce him from 
 his high and brilliant course ; his talents were forcing them 
 selves upon public attention his harangues, or stump 
 speeches were almost electrifying ; his temperance lectures 
 potent, pathetic, and converting ; his conversational powers 
 incomparable ! 
 
 His friends looked a-head, and pointed out the goal of 
 his glorious career. A young man with such gifts and 
 such prospects would necessarily be a successful lover ; he 
 had every qualification to captivate the heart ; Kate loved 
 him with all the enthusiasm of her nature, and in the 
 strength and purity of her heart. She loved him, as the 
 pious worshiper of Christ ever loves, firmly, and for 
 ever ! 
 
 Her friends were pleased and proud of the connection, 
 and if Mrs. Fairmont had her fears creeping over her heart, 
 like threads of ice, and turned from the calm face of her 
 trusting child, to conceal the shudder, yet she prayed and 
 awaited the finale. 
 
 Why should she have tears ? he was so noble in his 
 nature so honorable in all his proceedings so aspiring 
 so far above suspicion or mistrust. So he was apparently; 
 but one dram-seller can convert three thousand such sons 
 of promise in a year. Intemperance has leveled as many 
 of the talented as the simple handsome as the ill-favored ; 
 if it preyed only upon the low, vulgar, licentious monstrosi 
 ties of the human species, it would not carry its devastation 
 into every grade of life ; but, alas for earth ! it falls upon all
 
 MRS. BEN DARBY. 267 
 
 who come within its banned circle, like the plague-spot, 
 carrying misfortune, sorrow and death into every Eden that 
 it enters. It is a poison, whose virus not only corrupts the 
 entrails of the imbiber, but, through him, affects with its 
 malignity the innocent and pure, that cling, and must feel 
 his pestilence ; it blackens and humiliates the proud ; it 
 brings vapidity to the active weakness to the strong 
 deformity to beauty and madness to the intellectual. It 
 affects every portion of society ; it creeps into the cottage 
 and the hamlet, bringing terror and dismay to sporting 
 childhood. City police records exhibit disgusting enor 
 mities of crime, that neither man or woman could commit 
 but under its demonizing effects ; it overhangs the prison 
 walls like a shroud ; it is upon the highways and the by 
 ways upon the rivers and the high seas. What caused 
 the tumult on that graceful craft that pointed to the west, 
 stretching her full canvas homeward ; it was the voice of 
 discord the cry of " mutiny;" they were rejoiced with the 
 thought of land of home ; the captain drinks a bumper to 
 his lady -wife, and the seamen, to mistresses and sweethearts 
 in port ; hilarity ensues the potion is doubled the liquor 
 passes freely ; poor Jack sells himself to the common 
 leveler. His wife will look for him at the ocean outlet, 
 until hope wearies, and the little one she holds in her arms, 
 when asked for his father, will point to the rolling waves ; 
 his father has fallen from his sea-rocked shrouds 4o a 
 watery grave. 
 
 Drunkards, this is the idol of your devotion ; it steals 
 
 from your frame health and manliness, agility and nerve ; 
 
 it demoralizes your inner man, and unfits you for every 
 
 duty of life ; cuts you off from all sympathy or love with 
 
 22
 
 258 MBS. BEN DARBY. 
 
 man or woman places you alone on a desolate rock, to 
 perish, uncared for and unlamented. 
 
 Ought not every individual, who is too feeble in his na 
 ture to grapple with this evil to resist this foe to human 
 happiness ought he not to be guarded and secured against 
 its invasions ? Ought not his country to defend him in this 
 defenseless state ? If a man is trying to escape from sla 
 very, is not some hand ready to ward off the advancing 
 foe ? If a man is insane and outrageous, is he allowed to 
 prowl loose in society ? No, he is confined his preroga 
 tives curtailed ; he is restrained by force. Should not the 
 maddened inebriate have some consideration ? If he can 
 not restrain himself, ought not the law to do it in some 
 way ? What avails, at present, suavity of words or kind 
 acts, with those who have lost all self-esteem all honesty 
 of purpose ? The confirmed tippler is proof against 
 the warmest wooings of a world of benevolence. Let the 
 law befriend him. The law alone can do it and the 
 law will do it so mote it be. 
 
 " Clarence Duval will not be a sober man six months 
 after his marriage," said Symes to Herman Frazier, as they 
 were sitting over their champagne. 
 
 "No, not three," was the response. 
 
 " Perhaps during the honeymoon." 
 
 " We must recruit, Symes !" 
 
 "5Tes, our numbers are falling off," said Symes, mourn 
 fully. " Poor Sandford ! his was a sad catastrophe ; very 
 melancholy very." 
 
 " Miss Fairmont is rich ; I am glad of it ; Clarence will 
 come back to us full-handed." 
 
 " She is very beautiful, too ; I love to tease Duval."
 
 MRS. BEN DARBY. 259 
 
 " Not half as glorious a looking woman as that grave 
 Miss Temple," said Symes. 
 
 " Grave !" repeated Frazier ; " it is sheer pride and aris 
 tocracy. Never mind, I will make her suffer a few yet, in 
 this world, for cold looks and lofty behavior. She can't 
 slight me with impunity." 
 
 " What did she do ?" asked Symes. 
 
 " I have met her several times since Clarence introduced 
 us, but she is very stiff ; and what makes me so revengeful 
 is this : she is always so composed, I can't alarm her by my 
 impudence, or flurry her with my assurance. She never 
 sees me or hears me but with cool indifference ; it makes a 
 fellow feel so insignificant." 
 
 " You did not wish her to fall in love with you ?" asked 
 Symes. 
 
 " No, but I wanted common courtesy. I offered to see 
 her home, the other afternoon ; she said, ' I decline your 
 offer, sir, as I have some little trifles of business to attend 
 to not very important but sufficiently so to prevent minor 
 claims on my attention.' Since then I met her in a book 
 store. As soon as I came in, she was taken with a leaving. 
 I hurried up Broadway, and overtook her just before the 
 Astor House. Said I, making my most exquisite bow, 
 ' Good morning, Miss Temple.' " 
 
 "'Good afternoon, sir,' she replied, looking very se 
 riously in my face. ' Do you find your hat very oppres 
 sive, sir ?' " 
 
 " I found, by George, I had come off, in my hurry, with 
 out my hat, bringing with me ' The Flag of Our Union.' 
 I went back after my hat, and when I returned, I found 
 her getting in the omnibus."
 
 260 MRS. BEN DARBY. 
 
 " Never be in a hurry, Frazier, especially when you are 
 a little tight." 
 
 "I had not taken a drop too much." 
 
 "Just enough to make your head too big for your hat," 
 said his friend, laughing. 
 
 "No such thing I was not drunk, but that grave beauty, 
 as you call her, shall look graver before I am done with 
 her. Clarence Duval is not better than we are, if he does 
 belong to the Temperance Society. Elinor Temple shall 
 never forget me." 
 
 How faithfully he fulfilled his vow, will be found in an 
 other chapter.
 
 MRS. BEN DAKBT. 261 
 
 Cluster 25, 
 
 -Affairs that walk 
 
 (As they say spirits do) at midnight, have 
 In them a wilder nature, than the business 
 That seeks dispatch by day. HKNET vm, ACT V. 
 
 IT is a glorious night ; the moon smiles upon the quiet 
 waters, and the stars are out thick upon the vaulted sky. 
 The wind is clear and cutting, for winter has taken up his 
 quarters in the autumnal haunts. The world is out seeking 
 pleasure, gayety and comfort. The churches are refilling, and 
 hymns of praise rise in a mighty column to the throne of 
 earth's immaculate Creator. The saloons are crowded with 
 the hungry and the sensual ; the parks are thronged with 
 the gay, the happy, the famished, and the guilty some 
 exchanging honied words some whispering the long pent- 
 up curses of revenge others are seeking relief for their 
 overcharged lungs, drawing in the breath of heaven, that 
 has almost lost its purity since it left the reservoir of the 
 skies, and passed through the long, narrow lanes of human 
 exhalation ; but still it is better than the putrid malaria of 
 the cellars in Mulberry and Center, or the open localities 
 of the " Five Points," or the Old Brewery. 
 
 A figure was sitting on the steps of the Hall. Her tall, 
 shivering form was enveloped in a cloak, which, from ap 
 pearances, must have seen hard service or strange abuse. 
 Whether it had been created for man or woman originally,
 
 262 MRS. BEN DARBY. 
 
 was, at the time we speak of, a riddle, for it was so tattered 
 and deformed, so warped and disproportioned by its repara 
 tions, that it had lost the form of a cloak. She wore an 
 old-fashioned straw hat, with faded ribbons, and crushed 
 artificial flowers. Her hair was gray, but showed that it 
 had once been carroty, and hung in bunches of crisped 
 curls over her dark, sinister eyes. She sat, muttering to 
 herself, and swinging her head backward and forward, like 
 one in a trance. 
 
 You might have seen at a glance that disease and sorrow 
 "had made her summer pass away." She could not have 
 been more than forty-five, yet she was sixty, at least, in 
 appearance, she was so worn and faded. All the evil pas 
 sions had left their shadows upon her countenance, and her 
 smile was that of a ghoul. 
 
 There were two men sitting a short distance from her, 
 but no one would have supposed they were at all interested 
 in each other. 
 
 One of those men still retained traces of manly beauty 
 about his forehead and form, but his purple nose, watery 
 eyes, and ulcerated cheek, together with his imbecility of 
 countenance, told his history the long, long dark struggles 
 of his nature, and his final ruin. 
 
 Habitual intemperance was marked in indelible charac 
 ters upon his face and person. 
 
 What wait they for ? To beg alms, or to pick pockets ? 
 No, they are watching the return of Mr. Lacy, and the two 
 young ladies, Kate and Elinor. The old woman is a tool, 
 employed to decoy Elinor to one of the low boarding- 
 houses near the " Five Points ;" the two men had promised 
 to assist her for a " first-rate smash."
 
 MRS. BEN DARBT. 263 
 
 The cry of " fire ! fire !" A crowd rushes through the 
 park. The cry resounds from every side. Every street 
 disgorges itself into Broadway ; they press through every 
 gate of the Park. The engines rattle over the pavements ; 
 the masses roll together ; the Bowery boys cut down every 
 thing before them, screaming with the racket of their en 
 gines in their own way, which is decidedly peculiar. The 
 Park theater is on fire, and everybody is there to see it ! 
 The whole Park was a scene of confusion and riot. Chil 
 dren were knocked down ; fat men pushed out of breath ; 
 women fainted or screamed ; dogs trampled to death ; coat- 
 tails cut off, and pockets picked. 
 
 A fine looking young man, with a generous moustache, 
 stepped closely to the old dame, on the steps of the Hall 
 of Record, and said, " They are coming keep out a sharp 
 eye here, right by. It is the tallest one, with the white 
 feather and the black mantle." 
 
 The streets were still full ; the park crowded ; still they 
 come, still they gathered ; still the rushing fires spread over 
 the building. The flames threw their long, brilliant wreaths 
 over the tops of the trees, until the Museum, St. Paul's, and 
 the Astor House, refracted the light in refulgent rays. The 
 firemen worked ; the water reached every part of the build 
 ing, but the angry element devoured its lofty roof, then 
 sunk in a general crash. A flood of sparks starred the at 
 mosphere, and fell in showers upon the trees, and the 
 herbage of the pleasure-ground. Nothing was left, but 
 the statue of Shakspeare, which stood aloft among 
 the ruins, unscathed by the devouring flames. Like the 
 immortality of its great prototype, it stands alone im 
 perishable !
 
 264 MRS. BEN DARBY. 
 
 When the first rays of the fire startled the loungers in 
 the Park, a dense crowd rushed to the gates opening into 
 Broadway. The gentleman with two young ladies, so 
 closely observed by the old woman and the young man 
 with the moustache, were making their way, as fast as they 
 could, through the Park, and as they were forcing their 
 way through the gate into the street and gathering multi 
 tudes were pushing their way in, as if the city was ousted, 
 stumbling and kicking, it was almost impossible to gain an 
 inch either way, the tallest of the young ladies was forci 
 bly dragged back. This occurred just as they were pass 
 ing through the gate ; the old woman had emerged suddenly 
 from her dark corner and wound her desecrated arms 
 around the terrified girl with the white plume and held her 
 fast, and dragged her back into the park. 
 
 The gentleman turned to regain the arm of his compa 
 nion, but could not find her. It was in vain that they 
 lingered at the gate, hoping every moment would end their 
 solicitude to recover her. 
 
 The fire raged ; the crowd moved like an ocean of living 
 creatures, but its blending waves were explored in vain for 
 the lost girl. The woman pressed her closely to her with 
 one arm still forcing her head down, while the other pressed 
 a snuffy handkerchief into her mouth to prevent her from 
 screaming. A man came up to assist the woman that 
 horrid-looking creature with the blistered face and the 
 ulcerated cheek. They dragged her through Chatham- 
 street on to Mulberry. She struggled to release herself, 
 but alarmed and astounded by so unlocked for a calamity, 
 she was unable to oppose the wretches into whose hands 
 she had fallen. When the man approached to assist her,
 
 MRS. BEN DABBY. 265 
 
 or rather to force her on, she became more passive, dread 
 ing, more than words can express, coming in contact with 
 one so loathsome and repulsive. 
 
 Crowds passed them in this way. She cried and 
 screamed, but everybody was crying and screaming. She 
 tried to grasp some friendly hand, but everybody was 
 afraid of being seized; everybody shunned everybody, 
 and everybody was getting out of everybody's way, 
 and everybody was thinking of nobody but them 
 selves everybody was in everybody's way, and if any 
 body expected anybody to notice them somebody was 
 very much mistaken. 
 
 " We must keep a look-out or the first thing we know, 
 we '11 be in a regular muss," said the man, as they pulled 
 their prisoner along the dirty street. 
 
 "No danger now," answered his companion; "hold on 
 to the girl. She is yours, I have nothing to say." 
 
 "What would you say Cap'an ? " asked the old 
 woman. 
 
 " Nothing ; only it is poor sport to go on a dub without 
 a little of the critter." 
 
 " If that's all, I am sure it is myself that will divide 
 with you here 's a shilling and there 's a window with a 
 red curtain do you take ?" 
 
 " Yes, ma'am, and I '11 see you to the cribbey and then 
 I am off on a bender you take ?" 
 
 They were interrupted by the girl, who screamed murder, 
 as she saw some persons hurrying by with compassionate- 
 looking faces. 
 
 " What is the matter ?" asked a corpulent-looking man 
 with a silver-headed cane and large watch-key. 
 23
 
 266 MRS. BEN DAKBY. 
 
 " Oh! sir, save me ! save me !" screamed the girl at the 
 top of her voice. 
 
 " What does she mean ?" he inquired, looking closely 
 under her hat. 
 
 " Bad enough, sir !" replied the woman ; " the poor, dear 
 child is demented entirely, and it is always so wid her at 
 the cry of fire she always falls into conniptions it is an 
 ugly trick, sir, but she has done so ever since she was a 
 baby." 
 
 " It is all false, sir," cried the frantic girl, trying to burst 
 from their hold ; " Oh ! sir, for the love of God, save me !" 
 
 " Yes, you see entirely upset !" and the woman tapped 
 her fore-finger on her forehead and winked at the fidgety 
 old gentleman; " we are taking her home, sir, but she does 
 not know us not a bit of it !" 
 
 " So young and so pretty ! what a pity !" and the gentle 
 man sighed. 
 
 " Oh ! no ! I am not crazy, indeed I am not ! Only listen 
 one moment they are carrying me from my friends. Oh ! 
 save me !" 
 
 "Just so," said the woman; "I am sure, I have nursed 
 her in her cradle the ungrateful hussy !" 
 
 " Poor thing !" said the gentleman, passing on; " she is 
 very beautiful! What a misfortune to lose one's wits! 
 What strange sights we meet in this city at every turn !" 
 
 The next turn presented the Park theater in a blaze of 
 light the poor girl was forgotten. So much for street 
 sympathy. 
 
 " Didn't I come it over that old fogy?" said the woman, 
 laughing hideously ; " he is sapped, certain." 
 
 They dragged the poor girl into one of those dirty,
 
 MRS. BEN DARBY. 267 
 
 stinking alleys leading into the Five Points. They knocked 
 at the door of a small, dark, brownish-looking house, which 
 stood with its gable fronting on Mulberry-street. It was a 
 miserable-looking place in rear and front ; but the interior 
 had a more cheerful appearance. A few articles seemed to 
 have fallen in the wrong place forming, as they did, such 
 strange contrast with the dirty, shattered walls. The win 
 dows had blinds ; the floors were carpeted with half- worn, 
 faded, striped carpeting. The furniture was third-handed, 
 from Chatham-street. The house was much larger than it 
 seemed to be, at first survey ; it was narrow in its dimen 
 sions, but ran some forty feet back. 
 
 "Nice boarding-house this, my chick," said the old 
 woman, as they passed the little, den-like looking rooms ; 
 " well ventilated, with Croton fixin's. You will fare like a 
 princess." 
 
 They dragged the half-dead girl into a room, and bidding 
 her to take off her hat, she turned the key on the outside 
 and left her to her reflections. 
 
 Her musings were bitter, but of short duration. Several 
 women of detestable appearance, followed the old woman, 
 and peered in at the weeping girl. 
 
 " Take off your bonnet dear and it is good hands en 
 tirely you are in, and no mistake will you choose to stay' 
 with the young ladies here, or will you go up to the wo 
 man what's to have charge of you?" 
 
 "Let me out of this house now!" replied the horror- 
 stricken girl ; for she comprehended enough of her situa 
 tion, almost to madden her, " I shall die, indeed I shall, 
 away from my father my dear father Oh ! if you have 
 one drop of nature left, let me pass out!"
 
 268 MRS. BEN DARBY. 
 
 " I had as well turn a lamb out among wolves, as to let 
 you out in the neighborhood of the Five Points." 
 
 "Oh! God have mercy on me not the Five Points?" 
 and the poor young lady wrung her hands in utter despair. 
 
 "Oh ! madam, if you will only take me in to Chatham or 
 Broadway, I will load you with presents and gratitude." 
 
 " Don't talk to me about gratitude there is not enough 
 of it in the world to load a cat's back." 
 
 " Yes," replied the girl, "with the good." 
 
 "You call yourself good, hey ?" 
 
 "I am innocent, at least help me to escape." 
 
 "I can't its no use to tamper wid me, darling I am 
 no traithor and then if I had a mind, I dare not disap 
 point the woman up stairs for she is the when she 
 
 is raised so come along up will you !" 
 
 " No, no do not take me up there have mercy, so 
 God may have pity on you in time of sorrow and danger." 
 
 " Come along, come along, you simpering fool this is a 
 boarding house, and some of the boarders are very aristo 
 cratic especially the lady up stain,. She was one of the 
 upper tens once perhaps you have heard of her ?" 
 
 "What name ?" asked the trembling prisoner. 
 
 "Mrs. Ben Darby." 
 
 A. smothering suppression of breath, was the only reply, 
 and the blood left her face pale as death. 
 
 " Will you go ?" 
 
 " Yes, I will go." 
 
 " Come along then be a good girl." 
 
 They entered a contracted apartment, disgracefully kept, 
 and with little or no pretensions to the comforts of life. 
 Mrs. Darby had, however, retained, through the varied
 
 MRS. BEN DARBY. 269 
 
 changes of her life, her predilection for lounging. The 
 splendid sofa, had almost faded from memory, and she now 
 crouched upon an old, broken lounge, covered with stained 
 and faded calico dirty and greasy, with a cushion so 
 filthy, that no one could venture to even surmise its original 
 texture. She had lost all her beauty ; her black, glossy 
 hair was intermixed with filaments of silver, and in mats 
 upon her neck, but in front, still caressed into long curls. 
 Her teeth, too firm to yield to premature decay, were very 
 yellow and elongated ; her mouth was scornful and snarl 
 ing, like that of a fretted lioness. Her form had lost its 
 queen-like proportions ; but bloated and flaccid, sought its 
 ease in loose and unseemly garments. An old, faded 
 muslin-de-laine, which had seen gay days in its time, 
 with a huge cape, enveloped her form. 
 
 " I have brought the .young 'oman," cried the conduc 
 tress of the girl, pushing her into the room. 
 
 " Take a seat, dear," said Mrs. Darby, making room 
 for her on the oily-looking couch. " Quite pretty aristo 
 cratic, I take it." 
 
 "I am sure ma'am, I have made no blunder at all but 
 it is dangerous meddling with the nobs keep her out of 
 sight, in case of a muss them tarnal coppers always 
 meddlin' wid other folks' business an' then, that con- 
 carned Tombs is so near." 
 
 " I wish you would not use your flash to me I am not 
 one of you be off," continued she, when she noticed the 
 d^eep agitation of the girl, " you frighten a body." 
 
 " Well ! the Tombs is handy do you take ?" 
 
 " What shall I call you love ?" said Mrs. Darby whin- 
 ingly, for she was, as "Jack" says, " three sheets in the
 
 270 MRS. BEN DARBY. 
 
 wind." She turned to the girl for a reply, and found she 
 had fallen on her knees, and with clasped hands, was 
 gazing with incomprehensible agony into the face of her 
 who addressed her. Wretched mother ! know you not the 
 child of your bosom ? Has that troubled appeal of nature, 
 no responding answer from thy cold and shattered heart? 
 none ! none ! 
 
 Elinor Temple felt there was none, and silently wrestled 
 with her emotions, then turning to Mrs. Darby she said, 
 Call me Ellen." 
 
 "Elinor was my own sweet child's name but she is in 
 heaven I am here " 
 
 "Is she dead ?" asked Miss Temple in a low tone, with 
 a fluttering heart sounding the depths of her feelings. 
 
 "No!" screamed the wretched woman, "but she had 
 just as well be she is innocent and happy, and I am it 
 matters not what I am I might have been but no more 
 of that well, well !" continued she, as if talking to herself, 
 "it can't be undone sinking! sinking! I had just as well 
 touch the bottom of the abyss. Has hell any bottom, 
 child?" 
 
 "Madam, pray do not talk so, you freeze my blood 
 Oh! it is dreadful." Elinor hid her face with her hands. 
 
 "Well, I will not at least I will try not," and she 
 smiled hideously. "How beautiful you are only think, that 
 I was once just as young, and perhaps, infinitely hand 
 somer, and just as frail. What evil got in you, child, to 
 think of meeting that young man here ?" 
 
 " I never had such a thought ! that old woman dragged 
 me from my uncle's arms, and with the assistance of a 
 vile-looking man, brought me here."
 
 MRS. BEN DARBT. 271 
 
 " But you love the young man lie told me so." 
 
 " He lies I never loved any young man never !" 
 
 " Well, don't fly in a passion, dear and tell me all your 
 troubles. Then you did not come of your own accord ?" 
 
 " Never ! never !" 
 
 " Then fly this atmosphere of sin and degradation, and 
 go back to your father and mother." 
 
 " I have never known a mother's care." 
 
 "Ah ! tell me you have no mother ? I suppose she died 
 when you were a baby?" 
 
 " No, she is not dead," cried the agitated girl, in a gush 
 of uncontrollable feeling, " she lives in the precincts of 
 vice she is degraded lost to all the dear hearts that 
 could have loved and cherished her without hope or 
 mercy, lost forever!" 
 
 " And where is the wretched woman now ?" asked Mrs. 
 Darby, her face purple with conscious guilt. 
 
 " In the lowest grade of life ; she gave away the baby 
 at her breast for the bottle ; she gave up friends, wealth, 
 and character for it, but that is not the worst she has for 
 saken her God lost sight of heaven !" 
 
 " Child," said Mrs. Darby, drawing herself up in great 
 dignity, "you are getting up a tragedy proceed you do 
 it admirable, but the case is so like my own that I will not 
 listen to it; it stirs up all the evil thoughts and feelings that 
 I would like to forget. Come, child, I will take you home." 
 
 "I'd rather stay with you until morning, if you will prom 
 ise to protect me. Only try to imagine that I am your Eli 
 nor your own child !" 
 
 " Oh ! no ! she would scorn her reduced parent that
 
 272 MRS. BEN DABBY. 
 
 proud child of the Temples'; but, child, you shall be safe 
 with me yes safe as with your mother." 
 
 "Oh ! yes !" cried Elinor, springing toward her with out 
 stretched arms, and clasping her around the neck. 
 
 " Dear me ! you are very loving ; have you any small 
 change? Elinor, give us a few." 
 
 "Oh ! listen to me," said she, kneeling before her 
 your own, long deserted " 
 
 " Well, before I listen to your theatricals, give me a few 
 shillings. I am thirsty I'll be hanged if " 
 
 "Mother ! listen to your child !" 
 
 " Just a little of the tin first, and then I will be very 
 attentive just a little, dear." 
 
 "Oh! it is dreadful!" said poor Elinor, wringing her 
 hands ; then suddenly seating herself again, she asked her 
 mother if she lived alone. 
 
 " Alone !" she repeated, " who could live in this world 
 of bitterness and scorn alone ? No ! I have company lower 
 and viler than myself ! If you are innocent, chifd, try and 
 keep so. I never try to seduce the innocent I will not do 
 it ; but Darby is very heartless, and makes very poor pro 
 vision for me, and a body has often to lower themselves 
 according to circumstances. I was not always pinched as 
 I am now. I used to ride in my own carriage, and board 
 at the Astor House. I always had friends then people 
 always have, when money is plenty. I kept my servants, 
 too, but you would not think it now." 
 
 " You used to be very beautiful, too, I know you were ; 
 you must have been," said Elinor, turning one of her griz 
 zled curls on her finger.
 
 MRS. BEN DARBY. 273 
 
 " Oh ! yes that was my ruin ; but where is it now ? 
 it all went when I had the small-pox. Oh ! that was a 
 horrible time !" 
 
 " How long since ?" asked Elinor. 
 
 " My memory is very deceitful ; I believe it was five 
 or six years ago. I was returning from Texas." 
 
 "Alone ?" 
 
 " No, child, I never go or stay alone. Ben Darby is 
 my shadow always has been will be in eternity !" 
 
 "Where is he now ?" asked Elinor, fearfully. 
 
 " What little there is left of him," she said, smiling sin- 
 istrously, "is in the city; but there is precious little left 
 of Ben Darby. Ah ! if I had never known that man, I 
 should have been boarding on Broadway yet, or been 
 buried in Greenwood ; but it is done for now ! the die is 
 cast! I look for nothing now but death to relieve me none 
 to care for me or weep for " 
 
 " Do not say that your child your own Ellen will com 
 fort you, if you will only love and permit her. Look at 
 me, dear mother do you not feel that I am your child ?" 
 and she fell, weeping, on the breast of her unfeeling 
 mother. 
 
 " What a child !" said Mrs. Darby, parting the curls on 
 her brow, and looking into her weeping eyes. " Hush ! 
 hush ! don't cry no one shall trouble you ; I will but 
 see here is a friend." 
 
 Starting on her feet, she beheld Herman Frazier then 
 hiding her face in her hands, she dropped closely by the 
 side of Mrs. Darby. 
 
 " How kind to give me this meeting 1" said Frazier in
 
 274 MRS. BEN DARBY. 
 
 his blandest accents, and with his most insinuating smile ; 
 " I scarcely dared hope as much." 
 
 Elinor's upper lip curled in scorn, but she said nothing. 
 Her pure mind sickened at the thoughts which her strange 
 situation suggested, beginning to comprehend indefi 
 nitely her position, and the evils which surrounded her. 
 
 Mrs. Darby arose to leave the room, but Elinor clung 
 to her. 
 
 " If you have made an appointment to meet this young 
 gentleman, I will retire." 
 
 "It is false I never did any such thing it is all a base 
 stratagem, unworthy a man, and you shall not leave me 
 alone with him !" 
 
 "Well, have it your own way," replied Mrs. Darby, 
 sinking heavily on the couch. 
 
 "Lovely, but proud girl," said Frazier, drawing his seat 
 in front of Elinor, " we meet, but not on neutral ground 
 I have you now in my power f" 
 
 " I do not fear you, sir," replied Elinor in a low tone. 
 "I am with my mother, and though she is fallen and degra 
 ded, you dare not injure, in her presence, herinnocent child." 
 
 " Frazier, do call for some water," said Mrs. Darby, 
 fanning herself. " I have been dying with thirst." 
 
 " You have a chartered protectress," whispered Frazier, 
 pointing at the almost stupefied woman ; " I can soon fix 
 her flint, and then and then !" 
 
 " And then God will keep me," replied Elinor, with 
 cheerful faith. 
 
 The water and liquor were brought in and placed in the 
 window-seat.
 
 MRS. BEN D % ARBY. 275 
 
 "Wine, is it?" asked Mrs. Darby, a deep, phosphoric 
 light twinkling in her eyes. " Perhaps, Frazier, the young 
 lady will join us ; a few drops will be beneficial." 
 
 Poor, deluded being ! Never had she once, during her 
 interview with Miss Temple, been able to feel, or recognize 
 in any way, the relationship between them. Having been 
 fuddled for weeks and weeks, without one lucid interval, 
 she had become almost insane ; her heart was too deeply 
 cauterized by the burning drops which daily fell upon it, 
 to have one healthy pulsation. 
 
 " It will be my pleasure, you know, Mrs. Darby, to wait 
 on the young lady." 
 
 " I never drink wine," replied Elinor; "I have never 
 tasted it." 
 
 " Why not, child ?" said Mrs. Darby. 
 
 " Because my mother is intemperate !" replied Elinor ; 
 " I detest it, because it is her enemy." 
 
 " It has been my best friend," said the degraded woman, 
 drinking greedily the offered glass "charming! ah, 
 Frazier, you know how these things ought to be done; 
 the best of wine. I don't care if I do," continued she, 
 holding forth her glass, as Frazier approached with the bot 
 tle ; " what a beautiful tint-scher," and she held it up to 
 the light. " I see it 's prime gen'wine, shuch as I love. 
 Only try a glass, dear, do shee how nice it looks." 
 
 " I never drink it said, Elinor, with a shudder." 
 
 " The upper tens all drink it," Frazier said, handing her 
 a glass, with his face wreathed in sarcastic smiles. 
 
 "I will not," said Elinor, proudly. 
 
 " We will see," said he, sneeringly. 
 
 Trembling with fear and consternation, the poor girl wit-
 
 276 MRS. BEN DARBY. 
 
 nessed the frequent draughts of her mother, and the serpent- 
 like smile of the false one, when he found that the liquor 
 was doing its work, by arousing the sleeping devil in her 
 nature. Her face was purple; only where the small-pox had 
 left its prints, those spots were white, which added to the 
 revolting and disgusting features of the almost helpless 
 mass of flesh ; she had begun to grow garrulous and 
 fidgety. 
 
 Frazier turned, smiling with demon-like suavity, toward 
 Elinor, and whispered, " My little bird, do you find your 
 cage comfortable ?" 
 
 She answered him not, but sought the window, and 
 looked out ; the moon was shining, but there was nothing 
 to be seen but the murky roof of the houses and smoke- 
 dried chimney-tops, and the gloomy-looking dome of the 
 neighboring Tombs ; mentally she prayed for strength of 
 purpose for timely protection ; then turning, with her 
 mind soothed and reassured, she silently awaited the 
 finale. 
 
 Alone, and among the most wicked and abandoned 
 part of the community, how was she to escape, or eve* 
 cherish a hope to do so. She looked around on every side, 
 but there was no hope no way of escape ; and that 
 wretched mother quaffing, with insatiable thirst, the mad 
 dening draught; how was it all to end ? Elinor asked her 
 self this question, and her shivering heart made no response. 
 She saw Frazier approach the table ; mix water and wine 
 together ; then shaking a little white paper over it, crumbled 
 the paper in his pocket, and handed it to Elinor. 
 
 " Come, dear, take it, it is only a thimbleful ; Frazier 
 thinks it will enliven you ; drink it, love !" 

 
 MRS. BEN DARBY. 277 
 
 '" I will not/' said Elinor. 
 
 " Will not !" repeated Frazier. 
 
 " No, not with my own will." 
 
 " Obstinate children are often forced to take medicine," 
 said Frazier, bowing gracefully, and with mock politeness, 
 before her, with the glass in his hand. 
 
 " I will not touch your drugged cup ; I defy I despise 
 you ;" and starting on her feet, she prepared to defend her 
 self with the best of her ability. 
 
 " Will not, hey !" he approached, and held it closely to 
 her face ; " drink, or by " 
 
 " Drink it yourself, and to with you," said a soft, 
 
 oily voice, and the glass struck forcibly the open mouth of 
 Frazier, and was shattered against his front teeth. 
 
 " Drag her out," cried Mrs. Darby, " or the police will 
 see her in here." She opened a door leading to a place 
 that looked more like the " black-hole of Calcutta" than 
 anything else. 
 
 The wild shrieks of the terrified girl, as they tried to 
 drag her out, and force her into that dreadful cell, brought 
 a crowd of spectators into the apartment, and, as on all 
 such occasions, they were not content to remain such, but 
 soon found excuses for falling pell-mell into the intricate 
 merits of the muss. 
 
 The man with the horrible eye and the cancerated cheek 
 approached the now furious, raging, storming termagant, 
 and commanded her to desist. 
 
 " It is none of your business what we do with her !" 
 
 " I helped to bring her here," said he ; " but I thought 
 
 you wanted her for another purpose ; but it's a d of a 
 
 shame to treat her so ; you shall not do it !"
 
 278 MBS. BEN DARBY. 
 
 " Bless my soul, Ben Darby, you are getting back a lit 
 tle of your spunk ; but you can't master me ; no, sir-ree : 
 so come along you whimpering imp, you ; I only want to 
 hide you from the police don't you understand ?" 
 
 " No, no," screamed Elinor, clinging to the chair, and 
 everything in her way ; " oh, do not, I pray, add crime to 
 crime ; listen to me mother ! mother ! 
 
 " Frazier, hold the door in with her she shall " 
 
 " Hold," screamed the poor girl, with all her remaining 
 strength, " you know not what you do." 
 
 " I don't, hey ! well we '11 see." 
 
 " Then, see, d you !" cried Darby, " would you 
 
 destroy your own child ?" and he pitched a bottle at his 
 wife, which struck her on the temple, and felled her to the 
 floor; she fell back against the wall, and groaned furiously 
 like a wounded tigress." 
 
 " Then, rushing upon Frazier, he commenced a battle, 
 the merits of which were lost in the confusion that sur 
 rounded it; some were swearing, and offering to show 
 fight to any one who dared come out ; some tumbled over 
 the others ; some tried to raise the apparently lifeless 
 woman ; some were punching her in the side with their 
 feet, to see if she was really dead, or if she was only pre 
 tending. Others were trying to part Frazier and his anta 
 gonist. During this revolting scene, poor Elinor sat stupe 
 fied, endeavoring to recall her fleeting ideas completely 
 astounded by the horrid novelty of her situation. 
 
 At last she crept to the side of her mother, and stanched 
 with her handkerchief the wound upon her face ; her fea 
 tures were gyved by the twisting nerves into immovable 
 agony and pain, uttering furious curses and imprecations
 
 MRS. BEN DABBY. 279 
 
 on the head of the author of her disaster. Frazier was 
 desperately wounded in the side, and the officers restored 
 quiet the muss was quelled, and Mrs. Ben Darby seemed 
 suddenly to comprehend the whole. 
 
 "My child," she said, " my Elinor ! and you knew it, 
 Darby, and did not tell me ; may you never find mercy." 
 She fell back in a paroxysm of pain and fury; and Elinor, 
 overcome, fainted by her side. 
 
 Darby was dragged, for the twentieth time, to the Tombs, 
 and his wife, for the first time, to the hospital.
 
 280 MKS. BEN DARBY. 
 
 Cjuytn 25. 
 
 Death enters and there 's no defense, 
 
 His time, there 's none to tell, 
 He'll in a moment call thee hence 
 
 To Heaven or down to hell. HABT. 
 
 IT is past midnight. The churches, the parks, the 
 theaters, Castle garden, Christy's, and the restaurants, have 
 all disgorged themselves. The moon smiles down on the 
 slumbering city ; still, and peaceful, only where misery 
 watches ; where sin riots ; where penury pinches, and dis 
 ease torments. 
 
 In a small room in the hospital lay the panting form of 
 Mrs. Darby. This, then, is the end of her checkered 
 career the end of all her life's aim. Erring, wretched 
 woman ! A physician is called to attend her. He scans 
 with stern inquiry the disfigured face of the wounded 
 patient. 
 
 His attention is arrested by the police officer, wno says : 
 
 " Doctor, attend to this one first she needs immediate 
 care she is young, and looks innocent." 
 
 " Who is she ? where did she come from ?" 
 
 "I suspect, the lost young lady we have been searching 
 for since the fire. She answers the description." 
 
 "And this wretched being?" asked the physician, point 
 ing to Mrs. Darby. 
 
 "A stale old customer, and belongs to the devil the 
 sooner he gets her the better."
 
 MBS. BEN DARBY. 
 
 " Her name ?" 
 
 " Is Darby that 's Mrs. Ben Darby !" 
 
 "Mrs. Ben Darby? Oh! yes true, true I see through it 
 all," and springing to the side of Elinor, who lay on a 
 lounge, he tore the bonnet from her head, raised her from 
 the pillow, and looked in her face. That pale, young face! 
 " Yes, it is she ! Elinor ! Elinor ! speak to me, Elinor ! The 
 voice had all the power, in its use, as had the ' open 
 sesame' of the Forty Thieves. She looked wildly around 
 her. 
 
 " Where am I ? where is my poor mother?" 
 
 " You are in the hospital, in good hands yes, Elinor, I 
 am your old friend your old protector do you not know 
 me? your old playmate 4" 
 
 "Yes save me, Theodore I am falling, fall " and 
 
 poor Elinor fainted again. 
 
 The physician bathed her face; parted the disordered 
 hair from her forehead ; looked long and kindly upon her 
 well-remembered features. The young girl regains by 
 degrees her consciousness, and raising herself from her 
 recumbent position, looks timidly around, "It must be 
 him!" 
 
 The doctor, who had retired to a recess window, returns, 
 seats himself by her and whispers : 
 
 " Fear not, Elinor, I am with you to the end be com 
 posed be yourself why should you fear?" 
 
 While they were dressing Mrs. Darby's wounds, Theo 
 dore endeavored to occupy Elinor's attention. Sometimes 
 she was startled by a barbarous yell from the drunken, 
 suffering woman, and was ready to fly to her side ; but her 
 
 friend would entreat her to remain quiet, until the opera- 
 24
 
 282 MRS. BEN DARBT. 
 
 tion was performed. He saw that she was too much 
 excited and overcome by the terrible scene, through which 
 she had passed, to bear or endure much more. Endeavor 
 ing to suppress her emotions, she bowed her head in silent 
 humiliation, to the gentle inquiries and tones of Theodore. 
 Woman like (for woman will be woman), she shook out 
 the wrinkles from her merino dress ; straightened the front 
 of her battered up velvet hat, and the crumples from the 
 feathers ; drew over her form, the folds of her mantilla, 
 and tried to restore herself to her usual patrician appear 
 ance. 
 
 After Mrs. Darby had received necessary attention, 
 she was placed in bed, and soon fell into an unnatural 
 slumber. Elinor and Theodore watched by her during the 
 rest of the night. Starting upright in her bed, she at 
 times dared her husband again to strike clenching her 
 fists with fury, and, uttering the deadliest curses, she would 
 again fall back powerless upon her pillow. Her situation 
 was deplorable, and her sufferings excruciating, and so 
 entirely was she occupied by her immediate urgencies, that 
 she did not seem sensible of her daughter's presence, or 
 rather looked upon it as a thing of course. All maternal 
 affection had perished in the general wreck of humanity. 
 She had forgotten the child of her travail ; but God had 
 not forgot the wretched sinner. His mercy still flickered 
 about her; a beam, a ray, was still shining over her last 
 hour. 
 
 The sweet face, that bent like the angel of mercy above 
 her contaminated form, and the love-breathing voice, that 
 came like the whisperings of innocence to her throbbing 
 ear mother ! mother ! it touched a chord the last, tenu-
 
 MRS. BEN DARBY. 283 
 
 ated fiber of natural affection " mother! mother!" the 
 virulent ichor of the heart was stirred up. 
 
 "Ah ! if I only had my time to live ever again!" cried 
 Mrs. Darby, in a husky voice. 
 
 " What would you do mother ?" asked the tremulous 
 voice at her pillow. 
 
 "Shun liquor, as I would hell !" screamed the mother. 
 
 " Oh! not such words," whispered Elinor, "it is sinful, 
 dear mother compose yourself remember your case is 
 awful, your suffering great but God is merciful." 
 
 "Little did I ever dream I would come to this dying in 
 a hospital no money no friends !" 
 
 "I am here mother Oh ! do not say that your child, 
 your Elinor I will never leave you." 
 
 "It is well enough to cram me with such dainty 
 speeches it will read well in the 'Daily Times,' all for 
 effect. The mother deserted her child for the bottle her 
 husband for the tempter yes, that Darby has been the 
 snake in my path but he was a man all men are vil 
 lainsfalse. Ah ! if they will only swing him for " 
 
 " No no, not all mother think of my generous, high- 
 minded father mother, have you forgotten the Henry 
 Temple of your youth ?" 
 
 " Don't taunt me with him don't I know what Henry 
 Temple was, and is did he not spurn his young wife for 
 one failing only cast her off upon a merciless world, 
 because she loved wine f" 
 
 "He did all he could mother he bore with you until it 
 brought him to the edge of the grave he tried to wean 
 you from it." 
 
 " Wean !" repeated the wretched woman, with scorn
 
 284 MRS. BEN DARBY. 
 
 " as if he thought to cheat me from it, like a child as if I 
 loved it no better than the babe its mother's milk. Little 
 knows he of the drunkard's devotion ! Gentle reproof 
 kind, suasive entreaties! he ought to have incarcerated 
 me in a dungeon kept me in perpetual imprisonment he 
 ought to have forced me into sobriety ! Force yes, that 
 is the word nothing else will do for one doomed to the 
 bottle. Talk of moral suasion^you had just as well talk 
 of extinguishing a burning pile with the dews of night. 
 Fiends of fury !" continued she, pushing the bandage 
 from her gaping brow, " what use is signing the pledge. 
 If I had written my name down with the blood exuded 
 drop by drop from my heart, I should still have drank on. 
 Can the sick cure himself ? never was there a disease more 
 lingering, and fatal as the cholera ! When one has the 
 ship-fever, or breaks his limbs, or loses his senses they 
 take him to the hospital charitable institutions. Oh, yes ! 
 but the drunkard dies in the loathsome cellar with a stone 
 for his pillow, and a curse for a prayer. The police and 
 the law drag out the criminal offenders of the law, and the 
 law punishes them but the drunkard commits no crimes 
 he never kills any one, and although the Tombs is filled 
 every night with drunken rioters, they are sent out to try 
 it over. 
 
 " Oh ! mother, why did you ever take to it ?" 
 " I used to steal it from my mother's closet. She always 
 kept it there in a beautiful bottle, with a silver stopper ; but 
 she only used it for medicine. After I was married, I tried, 
 as you say, to wean myself from it, but I craved it more 
 and more. I loved your father; he was very handsome ; 
 but I loved rum better. I loved you, dear, when you first
 
 MRS. BEN DARBY. 285 
 
 opened your eyes ; when I felt your precious lips upon my 
 breast, quivering my very heart-strings ; but I loved wine 
 better. I loved the fashion and gayety of life, pomp and 
 show but I .loved the bottle with the silver stopper better 
 than the glory of the world or " 
 
 " The hope of heaven," said Elinor, timidly. 
 
 " Heaven," repeated the sufferer, slowly. " How strange 
 your words sound ! I used to hear them long ago. Sin 
 against God ! as if there was a God." 
 
 "Oh! yes," exclaimed Elinor, earnestly, clasping her 
 hands, " there is a God, madam, a just God, and he will 
 not look upon sin with the least degree of allowance. Oh ! 
 my mother, turn your thoughts to Him." 
 
 " Dear me, child, how excited you are !" 
 
 " Listen to me, madam," cried the earnest girl, falling 
 on her knees, and looking in her blacked and darkened vis 
 age, " there is a God ; but he is merciful as well as just ; 
 he is dealing in kindness with you now ; you have still time 
 to repent time for forgiveness ; for if you die " 
 
 " I will not die ! I cannot die !" screamed the frantic 
 woman. " God ! heaven ! hell ! No ! ha ! ha ! it is only 
 a scarecrow, held up, to wean people from their evil ways ! 
 God never made us, with such horrid propensities and dis 
 positions, and to punish us for giving way to them. Oh, 
 no ! the Savior never died on the cross ; his blood cannot 
 wash out the foul stains of the soul. Heaven and the 
 angels ! it all sounds very sweet to dying ears, I suppose ; 
 but it cannot be ! No ! we sink into the earth we lie and 
 rot, and mingle with the sod." 
 
 "No, mother, no! the soul is immortal, and Christ has
 
 286 MRS. BEN DARBY. 
 
 died to redeem it, and he is ready now to intercede for you, 
 if you will yield your heart to him only think of him." 
 
 "Ah ! if it is all true what you say, and what Jane Fair 
 mont said long ago, it does me no good ! I have sinned 
 past hope ! I have never given God one thought ! I have 
 left friends, husband and child " 
 
 Her eye-balls glared from their livid lids ; her frizzled 
 hair stood out from her ashy brow, with its frightful, bleed 
 ing fissure ; her mouth was wreathed with distorted smiles. 
 " Oh ! no, I cannot die ! there is that within me which can 
 not be annihilated ; 'tis the burning curse the raging fire, 
 that has been consuming me ! I carry my punishment 
 with me. Oh ! Temple, strike me not with that heated 
 club ! it belongs to hell ! to the fiend with a thousand 
 fangs ! Ah ! yes, I see now, it is the bottle of the intem 
 perate ; my own precious bottle, with its jeweled stopper. 
 Don't pour it on my head! it burns like vitriol ! Oh ! for 
 water to cool the consuming flames that are destroying soul 
 and body ! I thought that death was cold and turgid 
 that its breath was chilly, and its hands icy ! I thought 
 that the grave was damp, cold, and quiet, and that the 
 worms would crawl in silence over the stiffened form ; but 
 no ! it is a furnace of never-dying coals of molten lead, 
 seething and hissing like a volcano of eternal heat ! Yes, 
 yes, there is a God a terrible God !" 
 
 " Yes, mother, but his name is love," cried the weeping 
 daughter. " Jesus is your friend." 
 
 " No, not the drunkard's !" replied Mrs. Darby, tearing 
 the bandages from her wounds, and the clothes from her 
 bosom, "there is no water to quench the burning heart ! a
 
 MRS. BEN. DARBT. 287 
 
 stream of liquid fire bathes the never-dying soul ! Oh ! 
 for one drop of water ! water ! water !" 
 
 Poor Elinor hid her face in the counterpane, but the 
 hideous cries, the blasphemous curses, and ranting of her 
 insane mother, was more than her nature could bear. Al 
 most senseless, she was taken from the room, and her 
 friends were summoned to take charge of her. 
 
 Mrs. Darby's deathbed scene was too dreadful to dwell 
 on. Elinor never left her until the closing hour, when her 
 strength failed, and she was debarred from witnessing her 
 death. But those who stood by her, declared it terrific. 
 
 Ben Darby died in prison before his trial for the murder 
 of his wife had been concluded. His left cheek was entirely 
 eaten out by the corrosive disease which liquor had pro 
 duced. When brought out in his rough coffin, he was 
 literally covered with worms living worms ! his corpse 
 unfit for the dissecting-knife ; and was tumbled into the 
 earth, despised and forgotten. 
 
 Mrs. Darby was interred in Greenwood by her sorrowful 
 daughter, with a plain stone to mark her resting-place. She, 
 after all, secured the last advantage that her position had 
 to offer on earth an aristocratic grave.
 
 288 MRS. BEN DARBT. 
 
 Cljaptn 27. 
 
 Gentle friend ! 
 
 Chide not her mirth who -was sad yesterday 
 And may be so to-morrow. JOANNA BAILEY. 
 
 ONE little tear, like a clear drop from an April sky, lay 
 upon the cheek of Kate Fairmont, when she kissed her 
 mother and bade farewell to her brothers, sisters, friends, 
 and happy home. Why should she weep? She had mar 
 ried the man she loved ; he was all her imagination had 
 formed of a perfect man, and she was yet too simple to 
 dream that human nature was not always what it appeared 
 to be. 
 
 He was handsome, talented, gentle, and acquiescing in 
 his ways ; so fascinating in his accents of love ; so deep and 
 passionate in his admiration of Nature reverential to the 
 Deity and free from the skepticisms of the day. As a law 
 yer and orator, he was making rapid advancements; his 
 success was undoubted by his friends. Every one prognos 
 ticated that he would some day send up a rocket from the 
 senate-chamber of Congress, that would emit a spark to 
 every State in the Union, or perhaps he would grace the 
 President's chair why not ? 
 
 Kate was very proud of her husband, he was so richly 
 endowed by nature. His aspirations were lofty and noble. 
 Brilliant in the manifestation of those springs of wealth 
 which lie in the deep and exhaustless vein of every man's
 
 MRS. BEN DARBY. 289 
 
 heart, prince or peasant, whose valuable stores surpass the 
 visions of the gold -dreamer. God has fashioned man after 
 his divinity the soul is linked with His eternal being. In 
 this beautiful world of perishing joys, man has food for his 
 deathless appetite. Before him are the mysteries of his 
 being and his immortality to occupy his thoughts and 
 engross his meditation. In the clear canopy above are the 
 unapproachable planets a glorious universe of light and 
 darkness, the incomprehensibility of which draws from the 
 elevated mind insatiable desires to trace the laws by which 
 the natural world is sustained, the paths of those glorious 
 orbs, and the relations they bear to each other. The sim 
 plest leaf, the tenderest blossom invites and stimulates the 
 mind with exalted thoughts and endless inquiries. The 
 inquiring intellect of man has no limits or boundaries, and 
 none can fortell its final goal. 
 
 This is the standard of man, and when he walks forth 
 clothed in the glory of his might, he is the noblest work of 
 his Creator. It is not strange, then, that he should be the 
 ideal of woman's love and adoration. 
 
 Kate felt very proud of her husband, especially when 
 she contrasted him with a great many who crossed her 
 way. He was so highly gifted, so perfect in form and 
 address. None of your crank-sided, disjointed, hard, 
 warped mortals so difficult to bend to reasonable pur 
 poses not one with more money than brains and less 
 brains than vanity. He was not one of those Mount Atlas, 
 concerns, who throws himself on his prerogative and says : 
 " My foot is on my native heather and my name is Mac 
 Gregor !" nor did he belong to that peculiar set with which 
 
 society is sometimes molested those sacks of wind, inflating 
 25
 
 290 MRS. BEN DARBY. 
 
 and collapsing just as the spur of the moment dictates, 
 catching at every new humbug, every popular theme ; nor a 
 double-fisted, propelling Hercules, who keeps the world 
 dodging on either side, so if he does fight the battle of life 
 manfully, he gains nothing by the combat but a knowledge 
 of mankind and an equivocal reputation. He could not be 
 placed among the slow-and-sure beings remarkably slow 
 and sure to do nothing, with, whom it is wearysome and 
 unprofitable to travel the long, rough road of connubial 
 life a drone, whose saccharine disposition subjects you to 
 none of the varieties of matrimony, but forever moves on 
 in his course, like the routine of a treadmill, or sits up 
 like a weathercock, veering with every breeze of the com 
 pass. He is still better than the cream-faced hypocrite, 
 sub rosa, in all his measures, private or public, with scarcely 
 courage enough to defend his umbrella let alone his 
 wife. 
 
 A woman is never proud of a silent husband, who 
 holds his head up like a sign-post, and looks, for all the 
 world, as if he was playing club -fist and was determined 
 not to be caught napping. He never enters into explana 
 tions his wife knows no more about him or his business 
 than she does of the Royal- Arch Chapter of Masonry. She 
 can never guess his thoughts or anticipate his wishes. 
 When at home, he prefers "Harper," though a month 
 old, to the converse of his wife or the prattle of the curly 
 headed boy, who sits as still on his little chair as a wax- 
 figure in a show-window. If he promenades, his wife goes 
 by his side, like a self-propelling walking-cane. If he 
 happens to speak, his remarks are sententious, uninterest 
 ing, and unedifying. So they pass on through life.
 
 MKS. BEN DARBT. 291 
 
 What a long, long road it must be ; it seems intermin 
 able. Single blessedness is a joke to it. 
 
 Clarence Duval and Kate Fairmont bid fair for a happy 
 pilgrimage. Everybody said they were made for each other. 
 
 " Hers the mild luster of the rising moon, 
 And his the radiance of the open day." 
 
 They left, the morning after their marriage, to visit his 
 friends, and settle down at Saratoga for the season. Cla 
 rence was devoted to his bride, he seemed to almost wor 
 ship her; for a week, nothing could tempt him an hour 
 from her side. He evinced no disposition to engage in any 
 thing that separated them. She dreamed on ; 'she heard 
 his praises from every mouth, and listened, like a devotee, 
 to the eulogiums bestowed upon him by strangers. She 
 had never known his history, therefore, she had nothing to 
 do but to dream. 
 
 Thus passed the hours away on golden wings, and hope 
 keeping sentinel at the entrance of her heart. 
 
 The honeymoon had scarcely passed, when some of 
 Clarence's old associates arrived at the Springs ; not for the 
 renewal of health, but for the reimbursement of their purses. 
 They knew that he was there with his young bride that 
 her future happiness depended on his strict adherence to 
 the temperance pledge. What cared they for that? They 
 noticed his attentions to his wife ; they noticed his temper 
 ance at table his lofty and proud bearing among the e"lite 
 of the grades by which he was surrounded ; they knew, 
 too, his weak point, that there was a little crevice in his na 
 ture through which every moral principle could be reached, 
 if not entirely destroyed.
 
 292 MRS. BEN DARBY. 
 
 Whenever opportunity occurred, they assailed him at 
 every point congratulated him on his splendid prospects ; 
 praised the beauty and grace of his young wife by de 
 grees drew him more frequently from her side assailed 
 him with reproaches for deserting old friends. Frazier, 
 more audacious than the rest, accused him of being ruled 
 by his wife ; and although Clarence was disgusted with his 
 coarse inuendoes, yet still he felt them. Ridicule to him 
 was insufferable, except when too drunk to heed its pointed 
 arrow. 
 
 "Why don't your wife waltz?" asked Frazier, with well- 
 feigned surprise. " If I had as charming a woman, I would 
 make her waltz ; trot her out and clear the stakes. By 
 heavens ! I would, Duval." 
 
 " My wife is opposed to dancing altogether," said Clar 
 ence, hurriedly. 
 
 " I would soon cure her of that, I warrant you. If she 
 was to see you waltzing with the finest looking woman you 
 could find, you would soon see her floating through the 
 mazes of a waltz, with the airy agility of Peter Wilkins's 
 winged wife." 
 
 " You do not know her, Frazier, therefore have no right 
 to venture an opinion on what she might or might not do." 
 
 " I did not mean to offend you, Clarence ; why, you are 
 growing so testy." 
 
 " The effects of matrimony," said a tall, pale-visaged 
 youth, with a glorious red moustache. " Young husbands 
 are always so." 
 
 " Ha ! ha !" laughed Frazier, " you ought to know Clar 
 ence Duval better than to suppose matrimony would change
 
 MRS. BEN DARBY. 293 
 
 him. Give us your hand, old comrade," and Frazier left 
 him for that day. Like a wary spider, he had not yet com 
 pleted his web, so that it would close around his victim. 
 He spun on, and his prey came nearer and nearer every 
 day. 
 
 " Clarence," said Frazier, coming up suddenly behind 
 him, and laying his hand familiarly upon his shoulder, " I 
 have just made a bet with Allen, and we agreed to leave it 
 to you to decide." 
 
 "What is it ?" asked Clarence. 
 
 " He says your wife is a Methodist. I swore it was slan 
 der." 
 
 " You have lost your bet," replied Clarence, flinching at 
 the idea of his wife being the subject of their controversy. 
 
 " Ah ! I ask pardon," said Frazier, drawing back, with 
 well-assumed temerity. " I hope I have not offended 
 you." 
 
 " By no means," answered Duval. 
 
 "It seemed so comical," ventured Frazier, "for a man 
 of your free habits to marry a " 
 
 "You have said enough on the subject, Frazier," said 
 Duval, with a flushed cheek. "Another remark will subject 
 you to my displeasure." He walked off, but before he got 
 beyond hearing, his ears were assailed by a burst of merri 
 ment, of which, no doubt, he was the subject. 
 
 No sooner had Clarence left them than Frazier and his 
 companion made a bet, that if Clarence could be forced to 
 dance, his wife would not remain an idle spectator of the 
 scene. Frazier said he knew the women too well to doubt 
 it, but young Allen declared that Mrs. Duval was religious
 
 294 MRS. BEN DARBY. 
 
 from principle. They agreed that Allen should intrigue 
 
 Clarence to dance with the beautiful Miss G , and Fra- 
 
 zier pledged himself to achieve the rest. 
 
 One evening she was sitting in the Verandah. It was 
 crowded, but her husband was not there. He had often 
 left her alone in the last two days, but Kate had not felt 
 the change. She was not selfish, and felt happy to think 
 her husband was enjoying himself; but this evening she 
 felt a little sad, or rather reflective. She sat watching the 
 clouds as they passed the stars, dimming up their bright 
 ness, until the moon suddenly bathed the trees and lawns 
 in a flood of light. Her thoughts wandered beyond the 
 blue sky ; she felt that the world, even when it showered 
 its golden favors, had not power to satisfy the immortal 
 mind. The soul needs the converse of angels ; it cannot 
 be trammeled down to the rusty usages of earth, but seeks 
 to satiate its longings in the dark, mysterious future that 
 future bears a charm, because it is mysterious. Kate was 
 unconscious of the flight of time, until she heard the music 
 and the dancing. She looked up, and Clarence was stand 
 ing before her ; the crowd was dispersing. 
 
 " Clarence," said she, touching his arm, " look at those 
 beautiful clouds, tipped with the color of the rose." 
 
 " Splendid," said Clarence. 
 
 " Look at that white cloud that hangs, as it were, from 
 the moon. It looks like the gate of heaven; the columns 
 are carved and inlaid with silver, and set with diamonds. 
 There stands the angel of admittance, in his long white 
 robes. Those who enter the glorious portals go out no 
 more forever. I can almost see through it:"
 
 MRS. BEN DARBY. 296 
 
 Oh ! the transporting, rapturous scene 
 
 That rises to my sight, 
 Sweet fields arrayed in living green, 
 
 And rivers of delight. 
 
 There generous fruits, that never fafl, 
 
 On trees immortal grow; 
 There rocka, and hills, and brook and vale, 
 
 With milk and honey flow. 
 
 No chilling wind and poisonous breath 
 
 Can reach that happy shore, 
 Sickness and sorrow, pain and death, 
 
 Are feared and felt no more. 
 
 Filled with delight 
 
 " For God's sake, Kate, desist," said Clarence, in a low 
 voice, slightly shaking her arm. " Only see, how they 
 are gathering to listen to your voice." 
 
 " Indeed, I was not conscious of it," replied she, hur 
 riedly drawing back into the shadow of the door. " I was 
 singing very low." 
 
 " Very, dear, but you have no idea how strange it 
 sounded." 
 
 "What, Clarence?" 
 
 " That hymn you were singing." 
 
 " Do you really think so, or are you only quizzing me?" 
 
 " Everything you sing, dearest, sounds musical to my ear, 
 but remember, there is a good variety of ears at Saratoga." 
 
 " Some long ones, no doubt," said Kate, with her sly, 
 mischievous look, which was always irresistible. 
 
 " That may be, my little wife, but you know we must 
 conform to the rules of society. We must do as our circle 
 does, or be subject to its animadversions. Now, who ever 
 heard that ditty sung here in the very midst of fashion ?" 
 
 " Oh ! Clarence ! how can you call that lovely hymn a
 
 296 MRS. BEN DARBY. 
 
 ditty it is a libel on your good, taste ;" she tried to smile, 
 but could not, a tear, a legitimate tear came rolling sud 
 denly from her eye. 
 
 "You are too enthusiastic, dear do you know that 1 am 
 sometimes jealous." 
 
 " Of whom, Clarence ? tell me." 
 
 "No one in particular but you are such an etherial 
 being, I am afraid, some day, you will glide from my arms 
 like a sunbeam." 
 
 "You do but jest, Clarence I am nothing but a wo 
 man a very frail one too." 
 
 " No Kate, you are perfect too much so for this world ; 
 I wish you could be, dear, a little less religious." 
 
 "Less religious!" replied the young wife, as if she had 
 not heard aright. " Clarence, I was just thinking that I 
 had not been as faithful in my duty to my Maker, as I 
 ought to have been I have been so engrossed with your 
 affection with your society " 
 
 "You are entirely too devout, Kate you ought to con 
 form more to the maxims and customs of the world. You 
 are very young, and very beautiful you ought to be the 
 gayest of the gay join in waltzing, and the amusements 
 that surround you. I should glory in seeing you the 
 'observed of all observers.' I am ambitious Kate, you 
 know and very proud of my wife. If she was only a little 
 more earthly " 
 
 Kate pressed her lips together, a wild emotion checked 
 her utterance. 
 
 "There are some old acquaintances here of mine I 
 should like to astonish them, Kate I know you would be 
 irresistible if you were gayer."
 
 MRS. BEN DARBY. 297 
 
 
 
 "I care for no man's admiration but yours, Clarence," 
 replied Kate. "I am sorry at least I always feared that I 
 was too simple for one so gifted as you. Oh! my husband, 
 be well assured of one thing I will never prove unworthy 
 of your regard. I will perform my duty God helping 
 me but I cannot forget the precepts of my mother, or 
 turn from the cross of my Redeemer." 
 
 "What harm is it to dance a little? it cannot injure you, 
 and would be beneficial to your health, much more so than 
 moping about here talking to the moon, and imagining a 
 thousand impossibilities." 
 
 "There is no harm m being cheerful and gay," replied 
 Kate, smiling sweetly, "and I will jump and skip with you, 
 as much as you please. I have felt very happy since I 
 have been here enjoyed myself very much but I do not 
 believe that a pure-minded wife, feels any additional hap 
 piness, from having the arms of half the men in the house 
 around her waist. A wife should be as chaste as the 
 icicle that hangs upon Diana's Temple." 
 
 "You are too rigid too musty in your notions for one so 
 youthful but you are very lovely in everything else," his 
 face flushed, and he seemed over earnest. "But I sup 
 pose," added he " I shall have to bear it " 
 
 "Clarence," said Kate, looking him unshrinkingly in his 
 eyes, " I told you before we were married, that I was a 
 professor of religion a member of the church you knew 
 every sentiment of my heart it was open to your inspec 
 tion no concealment whatever all was fair as day I 
 told you often, I was too plain, too simple in my manners 
 and ways. Did I not?" 
 
 "Surely you did and you are the very best wife in the
 
 298 MRS. BEN DARBY. 
 
 world, only a little too sober but see, yonder comes 
 Frazier, he wishes to be introduced to you." 
 
 Kate took the arm of her husband, and sought once 
 more the brilliant scene. 
 
 She was introduced to Frazier ; but being well acquainted 
 with his character, having had it from Elinor Temple, 
 she shuddered at the sight of the smooth-faced hypocrite. 
 
 Clarence was afraid of offending Frazier, and having 
 nothing to risk on his wife's behalf, left them standing 
 together. 
 
 He invited her to promenade but Kate coldly refused, 
 and seated herself in the first vacant chair that offered 
 itself. He threw himself gracefully beside her on an otto 
 man. 
 
 " I have not seen you waltz, Mrs. Duval." 
 
 " You never will, sir, I presume I hope I shall never 
 render myself so ridiculous." 
 
 "Ah ! indeed, I was not aware of your sentiments." 
 
 " Of course not, sir." 
 
 " You dance sometimes," said Frazier with consummate 
 assurance. 
 
 " Never." 
 
 " That is very strange, madam." 
 
 " Not very." 
 
 " May I ask your reasons for being so decidedly singu 
 lar handsome women are in favor of displaying their 
 graces." 
 
 "It is against my own convictions of right and wrong, 
 and against the tenets of the church of which I am a 
 
 o 
 
 member." 
 
 "Oh pardon me, madam, if I ask how rmo cr win no*
 
 MRS. BEN DARBY. % 299 
 
 and so lovely, could give up the pleasures of the world? And 
 my friend Clarence, do you expect to keep him in the 
 charmed circle? he has been a sad fellow in his day you 
 will never teach him your doctrines." 
 
 " I was not aware that Clarence had ever been wicked," 
 said Kate. 
 
 "Wicked Oh ! my dear madam, I did not dare insinuate 
 that. Oh ! bless me, no! I had only reference to our jolly 
 meetings, and innocent sprees very innocent, I assure 
 you. Clarence is the life of his company of course, he 
 will desert us now." 
 
 " Of course," repeated Kate dryly. 
 
 Herman Frazier smiled, smoothed his moustache, and 
 fixed his tiger eyes on the innocent countenance of his 
 friend's wife. Presently a thought seemed to enter his 
 brain. Suddenly he turned on his heel, and went into the 
 saloon where the dancing was in progress hurrying back 
 to Mrs. Duval, he said : 
 
 " Perhaps, madam, you would like to see your husband 
 waltz he has the most beautiful lady in the room for his 
 partner." 
 
 " He deserves the finest," replied Kate coolly; " as to 
 his dancing, sir, I have seen him very frequently engaged 
 in it he is admirable in the ball room, or in any situation 
 in society." 
 
 "Let me insist, Mrs. Duval, on having your hand for 
 once only ; it would be conferring an eternal favor. Can I 
 not dare beg the favor?" 
 
 "I never dance, sir; and thank fortune! it cannot be 
 forced on me as ' a medicine,' sir. We will understand 
 each other perfectly well, when I say I am the cousin of
 
 300 MRS. BEN DARBY. 
 
 Elinor Temple. I wish you good evening, sir," and rising 
 hastily, she sought another room and other company. 
 
 " You cannot wish me to associate with Herman Fra- 
 zier?" said Kate, as she and her husband left the rooms. 
 
 "No," replied Clarence, hurriedly; "but treat him with 
 civility. He is not a fit associate for either of us, but he is 
 hard to deal with." 
 
 "He ought to be expelled from society!" said Kate. 
 
 " Well, dear, we will tiy to shun him ; but pray, do not 
 offend him. The fact is, we are old college associates, and 
 you know, a man never gains popularity by cutting his for 
 mer friends." 
 
 " Popularity is purchased very dearly at such prices," 
 said the young wife. 
 
 Clarence accompanied her to their chamber, and excus 
 ing himself for an hour, left her to her own reflections and 
 the solitude of night. She undressed herself ; read a chap 
 ter in her bible ; prayed long and fervently; looked out at 
 the stars ; thought of home, of mother, and dear, dear 
 Elinor. Another hour and another ; the lights went out 
 one by one ; the locking of doors ceased ; no steps were 
 heard along the halls but the heavy tread of the watch 
 sometimes the cough of an invalid not often ; then a noise 
 of revelry in a distant room. Another hour, and the pale 
 bride sought her pillow and wept wept ! 
 
 The first rays of morning came softly to that silent cham 
 ber ; the lamp was still burning, but Kate was sleeping 
 gently as in childhood ; there was a flush on her cheek and 
 tears, that lay like ice-pearls on her long eyelashes, told the 
 secret of her heart. 
 
 A shadow passes around the couch, with unsteady steps ;
 
 MRS. BEN DARBY. 301 
 
 the husband of a month draws aside the muslin curtain 
 he looks upon the form, so child-like and so helpless con 
 science stirs up the shattered fidelity of his soul ; he curses 
 his weakness ; bitter remorse is working within him ; he 
 tries to undress himself, but is perfectly unnerved ; he tries 
 to extinguish the lamp, but cannot reach it he falls back, 
 an object of disgust and brutal inebriation.
 
 302 MKS. BEN DAKBF. 
 
 28. 
 
 She rested her head on her hand and wept bitterly. WALTER SCOTT. 
 
 WHEN Kate awoke the next morning, the sun was glar 
 ing full on the face of the prostrate form of her husband. 
 It was in vain she tried to bring him to himself. Mortified 
 by the events of the night, she could not summon courage 
 enough to meet the unfeeling crowd below. She closed 
 her door against all intruders and commenced packing up 
 her wardrobe. 
 
 Clarence had spent the night with the human vultures 
 who had so ingeniously beset him. He had broken his 
 pledge and lost large sums at cards. Frazier exulted over 
 his conquest and took particular pains, as he afterward said, 
 to brace him up tight. 
 
 His wife was deeply afflicted, but forced back her emo 
 tions and prepared herself for a campaign of warfare. No 
 murmur or reproach reached the ears of Duval. 
 
 This was the first step after marriage. 
 
 That afternoon they returned to New York city. Duval 
 paused and determined to reform. He was very popular 
 and bid fair to become a distinguished citizen. He made 
 many political speeches during the presidential canvass, for 
 which he gained the warmest applause. He kept very 
 sober and steady for months ; his wife prayed and trusted. 
 Ah, me 1 if prayers would arrest the victim of intemperance
 
 MRS. BEN DABBY. 303 
 
 and dash the chalice of poison from his lips, there would 
 not be many drunkards. Every devotee of alcohol has 
 some fond heart yearning for his reformation; although 
 prayers may be unavailing for them still they are never 
 lost they bring to the fountain from which they spring 
 blessings subsidiary to every effort of faith and love. 
 
 Clarence, poor Clarence, saw his situation ; he was con 
 scious of the awful precipice before him the yawning gulf 
 below ; he heard the music of love wooing him back to his 
 earthly paradise; but like one in a dream, he had not 
 power to break the charm that bound him. Fortune smiled 
 in vain. In vain his friends surrounded him with every 
 incentive to sobriety. They sustained and propped him. 
 
 He lamented the crooked paths he had made, but shunned 
 not the buoys that marked the shoals and quicksands that 
 surrounded him. He acknowledged, with the frankness of 
 a child, his delinquencies; made the strongest and most 
 vehement promises to desist from his pernicious habits; 
 but when temptation assailed him all was forgotten but the 
 enchanted cup. 
 
 After frequently breaking his promises, he felt debased 
 and humiliated ; to escape this poignant feeling and to save 
 the feelings of his wife, whenever he felt the approach of 
 that insatiable thirst for stimulus taking full possession of 
 his faculties, he would form excuses for absence urgent 
 business in Washington or Baltimore. Sometimes he did 
 not go further than Brooklyn ; he then commenced a regu 
 lar course of voracious absorption. Without leaving his 
 room for a week at a time, he consumed bottle after bottle, 
 until his nervous system was unable to sustain the tax 
 upon its vitality. Entirely prostrated, he would fall into a
 
 304 MRS. BEN DARBT. 
 
 stupor, which either ended in morbid debility or horrid 
 delirium. He would then refrain, recover his usual ability, 
 and return home to his wife. Such a course as this, how 
 ever, could not be pursued long without making inroads 
 upon his mind, body, and estate. Clarence began to feel 
 it in every respect and tried hard to reform ; yes, I will do 
 him justice, he tried hard, but his disease had assumed a 
 chronic form and required the most potent restoratives. 
 
 A new motive for exertion, a new tie to draw him back 
 to the garden of the affections. It came from God, and it 
 came in the form of an angel an earthly angel, sent to call 
 him back to virtue. 
 
 Clarence was moved to tears when it was given to his 
 arms ; and, laying it on the bosom of its mother, he knelt 
 before it and prayed for strength, for nerve, to resist temp 
 tation. No doubt, if he had continued his devotion as a 
 daily habit, the tempter would have left him his contrition 
 would have availed at last; but this praying once in a great 
 while, and under peculiar circumstances, is not as effica 
 cious as that of the woman who pleaded with the judge, 
 and who was heard for her importunity, and blessed for her 
 faith: 
 
 " A faith, that shines more bright and clear, 
 
 When tempests rage without 
 That, when in danger, knows no fear, 
 In darkness feels no doubt 1 
 
 A faith that keeps the narrow way, 
 
 Till life's last hour is fled, 
 And with a pure and heavenly ray, 
 
 Illumes a dying bed." 
 
 Clarence kept his good resolution for some months. 
 Kate had recovered from her confinement, and little Robin
 
 MRS. BEN DARBY. 306 
 
 was just beginning to "hold up his head, and look like a 
 little man," a requisition which is made untimely and incon 
 siderately of gentlemen babies ! They will hold up their 
 heads soon enough if let alone, and, in course of time, will 
 look like men (some never will). However, as I was say 
 ing, Robin began to laugh and crow, and throw up his little 
 fat arms as all healthy children do. He was, of course, 
 the idol of father and mother. Kate loved him more, 
 because he had been the means of reforming his father. 
 
 Women are so confiding, and have been so easily be 
 guiled and deceived, ever since the days of our mother Eve, 
 it seems to me, they never will learn mistrust. They catch 
 at every little straw, every little fillet of sunshine, that cir 
 cles on life's waters. It matters not how often the straws 
 sink, or the light vanishes, it is all the same they grapple 
 at them again, with renewed avidity ; for life is made up 
 of hopes and fears, broken sunlight, and evening shadows. 
 
 Kate promised herself that her husband would never 
 drink again. She was so happy, in her own home, with 
 her dear Clarence so steady and reasonable and her pre 
 cious new baby! 
 
 On New Year's morning, Mr. Duval dressed himself to 
 make his accustomary visits on that day. He never looked 
 handsomer ; his wife felt so proud of him as she saw him 
 turn from the mirror, where he had taken a last review, to 
 see if all was comme il faut. He kissed his wife tossed up 
 the " little rascal" in his arms, and went out in a charming 
 humor with himself and all the world. He had made but 
 a few calls, and tasted but few glasses of wine, before the 
 demon of insatiable thirst seized upon him ; wife, children, 
 friends, respectability, decency all were forgotten ; his 
 26
 
 306 MRS. BEN DARBY. 
 
 aristocratic adventure ended in a drunken spree, of brutal 
 and degraded features. 
 
 Hour after hour passed away. The servants retired to 
 rest. Kate sat watching the omnibuses as they passed up 
 and down, expecting every moment to see her husband 
 spring from one of them. At last the noises ceased gradu 
 ally; the carriages ceased running, and comparative silence 
 reigned, where so late all was confusion and discord. 
 The rain began to fall, and the wind awoke up as from 
 a deep sleep. Robin opened his eyes, smiled and frol 
 icked, because the bright rays of the gas flickered and 
 flared over his cradle. 
 
 Oh ! how I do wish he would come, thought Kate 
 the baby is so lively ! his papa never saw him in such a 
 humor ! dear, precious lamb ! Then she would walk the 
 room, and, looking at the comforts which surrounded her, 
 solace herself with the thought that she was not entirely 
 deserted and miserable, as she might be. She was not 
 exposed to the mercy of the elements she had shelter 
 and friends ; then the sweet babe (acting as if it were 
 "bewitched,") in the cradle ! Oh ! what a blessing pre 
 cious Robin was to his lonely mamma ! 
 
 She was still sitting over the expiring coals, half un 
 dressed, trying, in vain, to subdue the gymnastic exer 
 cises of the cradle performer, dreading, she scarce could 
 tell what ; the door bell was handled very unceremoni 
 ously. Without waiting to see if the summons was 
 regarded by the servant, she glided down, with a shawl 
 about her shoulders, and opened the door. She turned 
 pale, and would have fainted, in all probability, had she 
 not caught in her rapid glance without, the terrible eyes of
 
 MRS. BEN DARBY. 307 
 
 Herman Frazier upon her, like the gloating glance of a 
 prairie wolf ! 
 
 Clarence was too drunk to walk. Two men were 
 supporting him by his arms his whole body, heavy and 
 languid, hung loose and lifeless. The wife comprehended 
 the whole matter in a moment. Those men were police 
 officers. Frazier and her husband had been drinking. 
 They had tried to find the way home, but could not. 
 Clarence had fallen over the curb into the gutter. Fra 
 zier had raised a muss, and the police had to be sum 
 moned. 
 
 Clarence Duval the proud, the noble, the talented, 
 the beloved father of her darling boy ! Kate stood firmly 
 in the doorway. 
 
 " Gentlemen," she said, smothering her emotion, 
 "please take my husband to his room the one that is 
 lighted." She held the door as they brought him in, then 
 closing it on the form of Herman Frazier, who pressed 
 against it. 
 
 " Desist, sir ! I will let no drunkard enter this house 
 but its master !" She fastened the door, and followed 
 the officers up. After they had deposited their burden 
 upon a sofa, they left, with injunctions from Mrs. Duval, 
 to take away with them the man on the steps. Poor hu 
 man nature how fallen ! how low ! 
 
 " Clarence ! Clarence !" said his wife, in a burst of 
 agony. No answer. The rest of the night was spent 
 with a madman! Even the cradle, with the little new 
 comer, had to be removed for safety. This is no fiction 
 but the picture of a home a drunkard's home !
 
 308 MRS. BEN DARBY. 
 
 29. 
 
 Sweet are the uses of adversity, 
 
 Which, like the toad, ugly and venomous, 
 
 Wears yet a precious jewel in his head. As YOU LIKE rr. 
 
 WEEKS and months of dissipation wrought a distressing 
 change in Clarence's affairs ; his prospects were under a 
 cloud business ceased friends became weary of his reck 
 lessness men of business habits and steady morality 
 looked coolly on him. Mrs. Fairmont had moved to the 
 country, to rear her small children, and was not apprised of 
 her daughter's situation. His own relatives had borne with 
 him until patience was no longer a virtue ; (at least they 
 viewed it in that light) his wife's ample fortune was going 
 like snow-flakes beneath a March sun ; how could it be 
 otherwise, when there was no management or economy to 
 husband its interest ; Kate looked on, and seeing but little 
 ground remaining to rebuild her hopes on, was sad and 
 almost heart-broken. Reflecting long and gravely on the 
 subject, she at last made up her mind. 
 
 It was a dark, rainy night ; Robin had just recovered 
 from a violent sickness Theodore had been his physician, 
 and Elinor his nurse ; Clarence had come out from one of 
 his "big drunks," as the Indians call it, and sat moodily 
 over the fire, with his hair disheveled his feet half-way 
 in his slippers, the very picture of debauchery the wreck 
 of all that was glorious, brilliant in form, affection and
 
 MRS. BEN DARBY. 309 
 
 intellect ; Kate, gentle and fresh, as in the first days of 
 marriage, watched his every wish, every comfort ; but she 
 possessed a sensitiveness which made her recoil from sym 
 pathy ; this was her weak point ; she was proud, and her 
 pride had been wounded by the conduct of her husband : 
 she resolved to make one more effort to redeem her former 
 prospects her standing in society ; yes, she would make 
 one more struggle before the waves closed over her ! 
 
 Drawing her chair closely beside him, she laid her hand 
 on his, and looked him full in his face. 
 
 " Clarence, did you know that our money affairs are in 
 much disorder, and need attention ; that we must sell stock 
 to pay debts ?" 
 
 "How did that come to light?" asked Duval, grumly ; 
 " it is not a woman's place to search into her husband's 
 affairs." 
 
 " I did not, Clarence; but uncle Temple was here yes 
 terday, and told me that things were getting quite des 
 perate." 
 
 " Certainly, I know my own business." 
 
 "What are your future plans; if you will confide in me 
 I shall be able to assist you in arranging your accounts." 
 
 " Attend to house concerns, Mrs. Duval ; look after your 
 cook and chambermaid." 
 
 "I have been my own cook for weeks, Clarence," replied 
 Kate, in a husky voice ; " my chambermaid left before 
 Robin had the croup." 
 
 " I was not aware of that," replied the husband, with a 
 bitter sneer ; " it is a queer fancy, but it is your business, 
 not mine." 
 
 " "We must curtail expenses," dear, said his wife, trying
 
 310 MRS. BEN DARBY. 
 
 to keep up her resolution despite of his nonchalance ; " and 
 I think husband " 
 
 " What do you think, I am impatient to hear," he said, 
 in mock gravity. 
 
 Kate tried to speak, but felt exactly as if she had an india- 
 rubber ball working up and down her throat ; she turned 
 her face toward the fire, rubbed her hands together nerv 
 ously, and suddenly bent over the cradle. 
 
 "Nay," cried Clarence, the blood rushing to his tem 
 ples, " I insist on knowing your thoughts." 
 
 " Listen, then," said Kate, with sudden energy ; " I 
 have long wanted to speak ; I felt it my duty to do so. 
 Clarence Duval, hear me. I know that I am doomed to be 
 the wife of an habitual drunkard ; I see no other hope I 
 know what is before me ; as you well knew before you mar 
 ried me, I am the child of a drunkard; my childhood no I 
 never had any childhood ; my early days were spent in 
 fear, mortification, and want. I watched my mother's tor 
 tuous routine of trial and grievances ; I know what is before 
 me, but at the same time I feel strong with devotion to you, 
 and faith and love in Him who will never forsake me ; I will 
 never murmur, nor reproach you, nor desert you; but one 
 thing I must insist on it is all I now hope or expect take 
 me from my friends and playmates take me to some 
 strange land take me where I am not known ; it kills me 
 to see my friends tortured by my misfortunes ; take me to 
 some little village on the Ohio river, or to Texas, where 
 sympathy is unknown ; there I will endeavor to educate my 
 child, and hide myself from the world's compassion. I can 
 not live here I will not tax my friends, or seek charity 
 from those who look coldly on you ; if I must in the end
 
 MRS. BEN DARBY. 311 
 
 rely on the generosity of my fellow-creatures, I will crave 
 it from the cold-hearted stranger. Draw up your ac 
 counts settle with my guardians, and let us move off to 
 some distant place." 
 
 Clarence listened in surprise and silence to her words ; 
 his heart had not yet lost its every chord of feeling ; tears 
 fell from his eyes, and in a burst of enthusiasm he caught 
 her in his arms. 
 
 " It shall be as you please ; you are my guardian spirit ; 
 I know and feel that I have destroyed your happiness ; I 
 
 will make no new promises, but I hope, Kate, that 
 
 that the future will recompense you for all your privations." 
 
 Earth has no reward for her who clings to the drunkard's 
 fate with fidelity and trust ; the compensation can be found 
 but in the joys of Heaven ; Angels whisper it God 
 gives it.
 
 312 MRS. BEN DARBY. 
 
 Cljapter 3D. 
 
 And unto man he said, " Behold the fear of the Lord ; that is wisdom : and to 
 depart from evil is understanding. JOB. 
 
 THE death of Mrs. Ben Darby was attended by so many 
 cruel and offensive incidents, that Elinor never fully recov 
 ered from the shock. The horrible scenes of her last mo 
 ments .often forced themselves upon her recollection, in the 
 gayest circles. It was a shadow upon the way of life, that 
 no sunshine could displace. Death is terrible at all times, 
 but its horrors are chased away, when the angel of mercy 
 comes to the sufferer with the olive-branch of peace, and 
 the Savior's precious relic, " I am with you always, even 
 unto the end of the world." Elinor had no cheering evi 
 dence of a re-union with the departed, but shuddered 
 whenever a thought of her mother crossed her mind. 
 
 I will say a word here about young Harper, in order to 
 show how the dearest objects of life may be obtained by 
 the destitute and friendless young man how all the evils 
 of temptation, want and delinquencies may be shunned by 
 him, who sets out with a firm resolution never to yield in 
 one iota where firmness and trust are the weapons of 
 conquest. 
 
 He commenced as poor as ever a boy did, and progressed 
 with as little assistance ; but in his conduct displayed such 
 noble refinement of mind such a nice distinction of honor,
 
 MRS. BEN DARBY. 313 
 
 and such unyielding integrity, that every one relied upon 
 him in the fullest faith even his classmates, who laughed 
 at his staid morality and unimpeachable purity of thought. 
 
 Theodore knew that he was poor, and that he had his 
 fortune to make and his character to establish in the world. 
 He knew, also, that the Temples were interested in his fate 
 that he had a claim upon their interest, at least he had al 
 ways felt that he had. He resolved, from the first, to be 
 the builder of his own fortune. The idea of being depend 
 ent on any one, was intolerable to him. He began at the 
 foot of the ladder ; but a faithful adherence to truth, and 
 the discharge of the duties devolving upon him, no matter 
 how arduous, rendered him trustworthy and persevering. 
 
 This indomitable courage, so admirable in man, was a 
 bulwark against temptation. He was not gifted like Clar 
 ence ; not handsome and captivating at first sight, nor had 
 he such an education ; but he improved every opportunity 
 of acquiring knowledge, and lived, with the future before 
 him, holding out its bright promise of hopeful success. 
 Many a youth has started in life with good principles, and 
 a fair conception of right and wrong; but the want of 
 moral courage has left them open to new incentives. 
 
 When Theodore left Mr. Temple and Elinor in the omni 
 bus, it was with a determination never to present himself 
 before him again in a dependent situation. He despised 
 the low, retrograde situation in which he was living, carry 
 ing bricks from morning until night, without relaxation or 
 mental advancement. 
 
 " I will never lift another brick !" cried Theodore, shak 
 ing his fists together, " never ! I will not be an object of 
 pity and compassion to my few friends such friends too ; 
 27
 
 314 MKS. BEN DARBY. 
 
 I will let them see I am a man that I can fight the battle 
 of life like a hero, and take my stand in society, side by 
 side, with them. I will be Elinor's equal, or never again 
 offend her sight. When she receives me again, it shall be 
 as a brother. I will not cause the tears to start hi her eyes 
 because I am friendless and shabby." He looked at the 
 ring on his little finger, which Elinor had forced upon it in 
 her childish sympathy. " No, Elinor, I would rather be 
 forgotten than remembered in pity." 
 
 He was as good as his word, as far as the brick was con 
 cerned. He returned no more to his employer, but putting 
 his shirts in his pocket, which Hannah had bought for him, 
 he wandered down to Fulton ferry ; he stopped at a stall, 
 and bought him a roll for his breakfast. While he sat on 
 an old boiler eating his bread, he was accosted by a porter, 
 who was carrying baggage on board the Mermaid, bound 
 for Cuba. 
 
 "Square your yards, my lad, and let your uncle pass." 
 
 " You are no uncle of mine," replied Theodore, moving 
 up quickly, and smiling in his face. 
 
 " Can you prove it ?" asked the porter, with a quizzical 
 wink. 
 
 " I do not know that I can." 
 
 "Well, never say a thing that you can't establish afore 
 a jury. I say I am your mother's brother, so come along like a 
 good boy, and help us carry this baggage to the Mermaid." 
 
 Theodore merrily laughed, and taking the heavy carpet 
 bag, followed his new acquaintance on board the Mermaid. 
 
 " Put it down here, my fine fellow, and let's go and wet 
 our fore-sheet." 
 
 " What is that ?" asked Theodore, playfully putting his
 
 MRS. BEN DAKBY. 316 
 
 hand on his shoulder, and smiling trustfully in his face. "Is 
 it to drink?" 
 
 " Yes, my lad." 
 
 " Oh ! well, I will not drink," said Theodore, with a firm 
 look. "I would not do it for my best friend." 
 
 " Well, here is a cut of tobacco." 
 
 " I never chew," said Theodore. 
 
 "Why you don't know what is good," replied the 
 porter. 
 
 "Well, what do you say to a trip on the Mermaid ?" 
 
 " I should not mind going if I could make it tell," re 
 plied the youth. 
 
 "How?" 
 
 " Get wages, or do something to give me a lift." 
 
 " Come ahead, then, my lark," said the man. 
 
 Theodore looked around at the strange building with 
 genuine delight ; he had never seen any larger vessel than 
 the sloops and schooners of the Appomatox and James 
 river. Before he was aware of it, his new -friend passed 
 him forward into the cabin, where he ordered him to pull 
 off his hat. 
 
 "Have you succeeded in getting me a boy?" asked a 
 pale, intellectual man lying on a sofa. 
 
 " Yes, sir, I have brought a chap here that will do his 
 duty. What say you, my boy, to a trip for your health?" 
 
 "All but that!" said Theodore, with his mountain blush. 
 
 "Health!" repeated the pale, harassed victim of dys 
 pepsia; "why he would make -a statue for a fountain of 
 Hygieine !" 
 
 " Well, to see the world, my boy, what say you?" asked 
 his patron.
 
 316 MRS. BEN DARB?. 
 
 "If I could make it profitable," replied Theodore; "I 
 would not care to go, but I am poor." 
 
 " You need not tell the gentleman that," said the porter, 
 with a caustic smile. 
 
 "What will you give him, sir?" asked the porter; "you 
 see he is poor." 
 
 " I will not go as a servant," said Theodore. 
 
 "What then?" asked the porter. 
 
 " Sir," said the youth, approaching the invalid ; " I will 
 nurse you, read for you, write, or wait on you, as need 
 .may be, but I want to do this as your friend; if my pas 
 sage will be worth that to you, agreed, if not, why " 
 
 " There is no harm done, my lad," said an Irishman, 
 who was adjusting the pillow under the sufferer's head; 
 " can you read ?" 
 
 "Yes, and write almost as good as Mr. " 
 
 "Who is he?" 
 
 " Why, my old schoolmaster." 
 
 " No doubt, a very worthy personage. So you are 
 willing to go as a friend and assistant, but not as a 
 servant?" 
 
 " Not as a servant if I can help it." 
 
 "A friend is a prize, they say," said the sick gentleman; 
 " I should like to have one I never have had one no, 
 not one. Well, let us try it. I will pay your passage to 
 Cuba. If we can't get along after that, why, we will part 
 in peace." 
 
 "I will go," said the boy. 
 
 " Be off for your traps, then," said the porter. 
 
 " I have none." 
 
 "No clothes, my boy?" asked his new employer.
 
 MRS. BEN DARBT. 317 
 
 " None, sir, but a couple of shirts I have them in my 
 pocket." 
 
 "Why, he is a perfect terrapin!" said the porter. 
 
 " You will be after taking leave of your friends, dar- 
 lint ?" said Peter Malone ; " the mother that bore you ?" 
 
 " I have no friends my mother is in heaven !" 
 
 "Oh! I ask pardon; but may-be and you have a nate 
 swateheart of your own, who will look for that face of yours 
 the day out !" 
 
 " He is too young for that, Peter," said the patient. 
 
 " Mayhap, then, a sweet little creature that loves him 
 like a brother." 
 
 Theodore thought of Elinor, and a chill fell on his heart, 
 his lip quivered a moment, but he looked unflinchingly at 
 his interrogators. He commenced his new avocations with 
 a resolution to meet the approbation of his new friend and 
 secure the good opinion of all with whom circumstances 
 might throw him. . 
 
 The voyage was protracted, yet it was very pleasant to 
 Theodore ; its novelty was its chief delight. 
 
 Doctor Mitford was quite young, but his constitution was 
 so impaired by early excesses that he looked old and 
 almost decrepid. He had set out in life with a fine educa 
 tion, a handsome fortune, and an unsullied character. 
 
 He became fond of his cups, and although he never 
 became an habitual drunkard, still it was the greatest 
 enemy he had. He drank hard until he found his consti 
 tution failing, his practice declining, and his friends dropping 
 off. The young creature, whom his heart had selected for 
 its idol, became disgusted with his intemperance and 
 returned the gifts of her affiance and parted forever. She
 
 318 MRS. BEN DARBT. 
 
 married a prudent and sober youth of less pretensions and 
 left her former lover to weep over the inconstancy of 
 woman. He never married but nurtured a morbid disgust 
 to the sex and humanity in general. He had gradually 
 broken off his intemperate- habits and was going to Cuba to 
 try the climate. He was pleased with the devotion of Theo 
 dore, who nursed him like a brother and attended to his every 
 want. The invalid improved rapidly in his health, and as 
 he gained strength, he began to show an increasing interest 
 for his young companion. He devoted a part of every day 
 to the improvement of his developing faculties. He found 
 Theodore a better scholar than he expected, and after a 
 year's residence in Cuba, he commenced business in New 
 Orleans and Theodore became a student of medicine. 
 Doctor Mitford's business rendered young Harper indis 
 pensable to his employer. He began from this period to 
 receive a salary as clerk in the firm of Mitford & Morgan. 
 In four years he had saved money enough to finish his edu 
 cation, and, with rigid economy, to support him until he could 
 commence practice. He manfully succeeded in working 
 through all these difficulties ; after which he came to New 
 York to perfect himself in his profession by practicing in 
 the hospital. 
 
 While at college he became acquainted with Mrs. Sand- 
 ford, who was the sister of Doctor Mitford. This will ex 
 plain why he was so interested for that desperate youth. 
 When he returned to New York, his first thought was the 
 Temple family, and when he saw Elinor on the New World 
 he could scarcely refrain from making himself known, but 
 pride whispered, wait a little until you ascend a foot or two 
 higher on the ladder of fortune ; and he was patiently abid-
 
 MRS. BEN DARBY. 319 
 
 ing his time, when circumstances threw them together. 
 Since that period he had become a constant visitor, and by 
 his manly, independent course of conduct secured the 
 esteem of Mr. Temple and the admiration of the ladies. 
 
 Hannah Reeves, who was a very close observer of matters 
 in general and love affairs in particular, said that " Old 
 coals were soon kindled."
 
 320 MRS. BEN DARBY. 
 
 31. 
 
 The sunny Italy may boast 
 
 The beauteous tints that flush her skies, 
 And lovely round the Grecian coast, 
 
 May thy blue pillars rise ; 
 I only know how fair they stand 
 
 Around my own beloved land. BRYANT. 
 
 ON the Ohio river, more than a hundred miles from Cin 
 cinnati, stands a neat and picturesque village, that bears a 
 significant cognomen, but I will, in my simple narrative, call 
 it Hap-Hazard ; in the first place, because there are so 
 many growing towns on that lovely stream, so nearly re 
 sembling each other, that you might settle down in any 
 one hap-hazard, and never hit the right one. In the 
 second place, the reader will be very apt to recognize the 
 place, if he has ever had the pleasure of trying its unpre 
 tending hospitalities. 
 
 The place I refer to, was composed of a variety of the 
 human species. It made up in diversity what it lacked in 
 immensity. Many of our western settlements are composed 
 of persons from one particular part of the globe. Some are 
 nearly all French or Germans ; some are chiefly North 
 Carolinians or New Jersey emigrants ; some are settled 
 by Catholics, Presbyterians, or Quakers. The majority 
 of many of these little villages belong to the Big church, 
 as Lorenzo Dow used to express it. But this little village 
 is a different affair ; it is a mixture of all things
 
 MRS. BEN. DARBY. . 321 
 
 Catholics, Presbyterians, Methodists, Odd Fellows, Sons 
 of Temperance, and Spirit Rappers and dram drinkers. 
 It has several churches, a court-house, some dry-good 
 stores, one milliner shop, a school-house, and several coffee 
 houses (at least they bear that name), and one ice cream 
 saloon. 
 
 Hap-Hazard, however, was called a very moral place. 
 It was really so, in comparison with many others on the 
 river, yet it was a very good field for litigation, and the 
 court was well attended by lawyers, and the jail was 
 scarcely ever tenantless. 
 
 As you wend your way up from the river bank to the 
 center of the town, you are astonished at the " goodly 
 prospect" before you; the beautiful hills and dales, covered 
 with the richest growth groves of stupendous beech and 
 maple, stretching themselves in primeval beauty ; on the 
 right and on the left lay the helter-skelter village ; it was 
 planned, no doubt, by some early pioneer, who did not 
 understand trigonometry. The sweet little cottages, 
 seemed as if they had not been built there, but had floated 
 down and rested, in high water, on the hills and in the glens. 
 Its white spires, and the old, long, red school-house, gave 
 it a very romantic and classical appearance. 
 
 Peter Larkins, in his sojourns westward, had selected 
 this little place as the theater of his future performances. 
 He reformed in it ; became a member of the Temperance 
 Society, and by diligence and continued sobriety, became a 
 worthy member of society. With the genuine sympathy of 
 an intelligent brotherhood, he succeeded, by degrees, in 
 making a very respectable living. He built him a neat 
 house, planted an orchard, and had everything in order to
 
 322 MRS. BEN DARBY. 
 
 receive Susan. And never did a bird fly to its nest in the 
 willow trunk, with lighter wing, and more tuneful heart 
 than that loving wife did to her reformed husband. All 
 old scores were wiped out from her remembrance, and she 
 thought only of the lover of her youth, and the father of 
 her children. 
 
 As Mr. Grimes and his family were preparing to emi 
 grate, at least they had been talking and planing a long 
 time, when Peter's letter came, they unanimously con 
 cluded that it would be better to go together ; and as they 
 had no particular object in view, but a new country 
 and rich land, it was finally agreed that Hap-Hazard should 
 be their future destiny. If I had any thought that my 
 reader would be interested in a detail of the many inci 
 dents relative to emigrating, and the circumstances and dis 
 asters upon their long and hazardous journey, I would 
 pause to dwell upon them ; but it is not the point of my 
 tale, and it is sufficient to say, that the Grimes' 'family, with 
 Peter Larkins' wife and children, bade farewell to their 
 old homes, their mountain scenes and wondering friends, 
 drew up their stakes, and started westward to the new 
 country in the valley of the Ohio. Many were amazed to 
 think of people, with plenty around them, going such a 
 wild-goose chase into the backwoods, leaving such a nice 
 home in a cultivated and refined country, going too to a 
 free state, where a white-man had to work like a " nigger," 
 killing his own pork, and hoeing his own corn ; they 
 " knowed nobody would catch them at that game," still 
 they looked long and sorrowfully at the little caravan, as it 
 wound" up the big hill on its western exploration. 
 
 The emigrants from the mountains were very much
 
 MRS. BEN DARBY. 323 
 
 pleased with their adopted country, and settled down to 
 the new fangled ways and manners of the mixed society of 
 the village, as if they had never moved in a different orbit; 
 they were happy themselves, and tried to make others so. 
 It is true, the people did not talk and act exactly as they 
 did in old " Virginny," but it was not reasonable to sup 
 pose they would, and even if they did, there were many 
 things in the western customs, much more desirable than 
 some at the Key settlement ; " anyhow, it seemed more in 
 the world," and more like living. Mrs. Grimes yielded, in 
 many respects, to the new opinions which were forced upon 
 her, but she always held on to one old notion : " After all 
 is said and done," she would say, " the old Virginians are 
 the most hospitable people in the world, that is, as far as 
 my knowledge extends." 
 
 The village of Hap-Hazard, by some fortuitous event, 
 became also, the resting-place of Clarence Duval. They 
 had removed to Cincinnati, much against the will of Kate's 
 friends, but she was steadfast to her plans, believing firmly, 
 that her husband would reform under different circum 
 stances. They would leave behind his associates, who 
 seemed determined to nip every recuperative bud, by their 
 vile temptations ; that in a new land, among strangers, he 
 would find none so eager to press to his lips the Circean 
 cup, whose fatal draught brutalizes its victim. With such 
 hopes, she left home, and friends, luxury, and ease, to fol 
 low the dark way of an insane husband. 
 
 Yes, insane ! How could a man, in the full possession 
 of his mental faculties, act so contrary to his interest and 
 the happiness of his family. They removed to Cincinnati. 
 For months, Clarence was sober. He elicited the notice
 
 324 MBS. BEN DARBY. 
 
 of the public by his eloquent speeches before the jury 
 gained the patronage necessary to establish him at the bar. 
 He was doing his best to make character in the community, 
 when all on a sudden he gave way to his besetting tempta 
 tion; his business was neglected, and the court terms were 
 selected as the most desirable period for his mammoth 
 sprees. He was often carried from the bar too drunk even 
 ta preserve order. His gifts of mind, by degrees, rusted, 
 as all bright things do, if not used and carefully rubbed 
 up. He lost his tine flow of language his happy tropes 
 and figures; that elegant combination of thought the sub 
 limation of human intellect. His love for the beautiful 
 the cultivation of art and science, which had at first forced 
 those rare scintillations from his matchless genius, had 
 no longer power to please. Gloomy, morose and wretched, 
 he silently walked from his office on Main street, to his 
 little dwelling on the roadside. That small residence, with 
 its broken fence, its uncultivated garden, and straggling 
 rose-bushes, spoke for itself and its occupants ; but no one 
 would ever have dreamed it was the home of the pure and 
 refined.
 
 MKS. BEN DARBY. 325 
 
 Copter 32. 
 
 Ah! gentle dames, it gars me greet, 
 To think how monie counsels sweet 
 How monie lengthened sage advices, 
 The husband frae the wife despises. BDKNS. 
 
 AMONG the various societies of Hap-Hazard, for the 
 benefit and amelioration of the human race, was the " La 
 dies' Union Missionary Sewing Society." It congregated 
 once in every week, at different houses, suiting itself to the 
 convenience of its numerous members. Its officers were 
 active and efficient in their operations ; that is, whenever 
 they could settle unanimously on a subject. The great feat to 
 perform generally was, to bring them into that desirable 
 position, for every one had their opinion (who ever knew 
 a woman without one ?) and held on to their rights with 
 great tenacity, and were remarkable for carrying their 
 point pour et contre, as the case might be. I would not 
 convey the idea that the ladies of Hap-Hazard were more 
 difficult to concorporate in their various propositions, than 
 ladies generally are ; but I speak of it as a general thing ; 
 and the ladies of the Union Missionary Sewing Society of 
 Hap-Hazard were not an exception to the rule. Women 
 are unionists in the abstract not in the aggregate. 
 
 The first lady that entered the society, (it met at Mrs. 
 Grimes's), was a pale-faced, weakly looking creature, with 
 a hectic cheek. She was dressed simply, and looked as if 
 she had not yet concluded to live or to die. She had been 
 dying ever since she was married, but some how or other,
 
 320 MRS. BKN DARBY. 
 
 she made out to get along on the highway of life pretty fast. 
 She had breathed on, through her threatening doom, until 
 she was thirty-five, and had made her husband the envied 
 father of nine boys. Mrs. Grimes said, " that was all that 
 kept her alive !" 
 
 Mrs. Rosburn came in before Mrs. Pinkton had taken 
 off her things. She was a very handsome lady very lady 
 like and affable in her appearance her language was de 
 cidedly grammatical, and smacked of city experience. No 
 one found fault with Mrs. Rosburn's manners ; yet she did 
 not seem very popular, considering she had so many ad 
 vantages, and so many facilities to please. She seated her 
 self in the big rocking-chair, and, drawing out the skirt of 
 her black silk dress, smiled complacently, as much as to 
 say, I am not quite approachable pray don't come too 
 close ! There was something in her that could not be 
 passed. Mrs. Grimes said "it was the Eastern streak, and 
 you might as well try to walk over the Ohio, as to get 
 past it !" 
 
 Mrs. Saul Jenkins was the president of the society. She 
 was one of your good, kind, bustling old ladies, with a 
 heart as large as a millstone, and as soft as a sponge. She 
 could cry one minute at the sorrows of her friends, and the 
 next, laugh at their ridiculous ways ; her hand was open 
 "as day to melting charity," and whenever anything was 
 concocted for the benefit of the poor or the helpless, Mrs. 
 Jenkins was sure to be there, and no mistake. To her 
 was consigned, by mutual consent, the management of 
 affairs. 
 
 "Ladies, I declare I am sorry I kept you waiting so long!" 
 said Mrs. Saul Jenkins, bustling into the room where the
 
 MRS. BEN DARIJY. 327 
 
 ladies had already commenced ransacking the baskets for 
 unfinished garments, "but our clock run down, for a won 
 der, for it keeps monstrous good time, and that put me a 
 little behindhand, and just as I was putting on my bonnet 
 to start, in comes 'Sam Jones to see if he could get the loan 
 of our big copper kettle to make apple butter. I went into 
 the smoke-house to get it, and lo ! and behold ! Sally had 
 left the hickory dye in it ever since I colored the warp for 
 my rag carpet ! It took me a full half hour to brighten it, 
 and don't you think, after all, it was too little ! " 
 
 "It is morally impossible, Mrs. Jenkins," said Mrs. 
 Pinkton, "to expect a girl to keep things tidy. If you 
 believe me, the last time I was at the Society, that great 
 gump of a girl of ours burnt up an oven of bread as black 
 as a coal, and the cow got into the back shed and eat up 
 a barrel of potatoes and turned over a churn of soft- 
 soap." 
 
 " La, me ! that would have bought truck enough to make 
 two or three shirts for the heathens," said Miss Fobes, an 
 old lady who tried to appear very youthful ; "I do declare, 
 what a pity !" 
 
 " Yes, I guess it was a pity, and Mr. Pinkton said 
 charity began at home, and that I had better let the Sew 
 ing Society sweat and stay at home and keep things 
 posted. Men are so unreasonable, Mrs. Grimes, don't you 
 know it?" 
 
 " Indeed, not I," replied the lady addressed; " they like 
 to see things snug at home, in doors and out. I would not 
 give a pinch of snuff for one of your poke-easy sort, that 
 comes and goes, like a domestic critter, to get his grub, and
 
 328 MBS. BEN DARBY. 
 
 never knows whether his wife or the kitchen-girl makes 
 his tea." 
 
 " I would prefer such a man," said Miss Fobes, " to one 
 like Mr. Sharpe ; he is a real cot-Betty, poking his nose 
 into every hole and corner on the premises. Mrs. Sharpe 
 never sees a quiet moment. She can't lend a neighbor a 
 making of tea, but he is consulted, or give away an old 
 petticoat but what he must survey it from top to bottom to 
 see if it is givable." 
 
 "Well, I declare!" cried Mrs. Lawson, a pretty little 
 woman with very black eyes and white teeth ; " if a man 
 was to fool about ray concerns in that kind of style, he would 
 be very apt to catch it. I despise to see them mixing up 
 messes or meddling in any way with house concerns. In 
 Ken tuck they are raised to know better." 
 
 " Indeed, I think it is as much their duty to see to things 
 as the wife's," said Mrs. Rosburn ; " the New England men 
 make the best husbands in the world ; they are so handy 
 especially with cows and butter." 
 
 " Well, well ! I had rather see a bear-fight than to see a 
 man churning. La! Mrs. Rosburn! I hope you don't use 
 your husband for that purpose ?" said Miss Fobes, laying 
 her work down on her lap and laughing heartily. 
 
 " Dr. Rosburn never does anything beneath the dignity 
 of a gentleman," replied his lady drawing herself up very 
 proudly. 
 
 " Never let him churn then," added Miss Fobes. 
 
 " How mistaken you are, Miss Fobes !" said Mrs. Over- 
 ton, playfully; "I think it the pleasantest thing in the 
 world to have Henry pottering round the house and kitchen
 
 MRS. BEN DARBY. 329 
 
 with me, helping me to peel apples or string beans, or rock 
 one side of the cradle while I rock the other." 
 
 " Of course," said Miss Fobes, sarcastically; "I would 
 not object to the latter employment as it must be so very 
 profitable !" 
 
 "I am like Mrs. Overton," said Mrs. Grimes, looking 
 benignly over her spectacles; "I like the men folks, and I 
 will own up to it, and I believe there is only one in ten but 
 what would do right if his wife would only let him." 
 
 "Oh! Mrs. Grimes!" cried Mrs. Pinkton. 
 
 " It is a fact I know it," said the old lady. 
 
 " I am never happy without my husband is at home," 
 said Mrs. Judge Wilford; " although I have been married 
 twenty-five years, and have lived half that time alone, for 
 he is always nearly on the circuit." 
 
 " La ! Mrs. Wilford ! I would not be tied to any one that 
 way," cried Miss Fobes. 
 
 " Nor I," said Mrs. Pinkton. 
 
 "Where is Mrs. Larkins?" asked the lady president; 
 " she does not attend very regularly." 
 
 " Susy has her hands full at home, I guess," replied 
 Mrs. Grimes; "she han't no notion leaving unless every 
 thing is just so. She never neglects home she had rather 
 pay the fine. All who are engaged in this good cause 
 ought to double diligence at home never curtail domestic 
 comfort ; for when a man comes home and finds his wife 
 gone he is very apt to conceit half his comfort is gone, but 
 if he is put off with a half-cooked supper and a dirty table 
 cloth, and the young ones cutting up, he falls out of humor 
 with himself and everybody else. I never knew a hungry 
 28
 
 330 MKS. BEN DARBY. 
 
 man,"under such circumstances, anything but ill-disposed 
 some way; such times I feel for them." 
 
 "Oh! yes! they are lords of creation, and ought to be 
 attended to above all things. Now I think, a woman has 
 her rights, or should have them," said Miss Fobes. 
 
 "That is well put in, Miss Eliza," cried Mrs. Tucker; 
 " for my part, I think they are very little but slaves worse 
 than some slaves I know. I can't see that they have any 
 rights at all." 
 
 "All a mistake, Mrs. Tucker," replied a little pale-faced 
 lady in a green tissue with a pink neck-ribbon and a cameo 
 breastpin as large as a door-knob ; "she has a right to stay 
 at home and have a baby every fifteen months ; to make 
 pies and corn dodgers that is, if she can get the where 
 withal to make them ; then she has a right to work, to 
 patch her husband's pants ; to sew on his everlasting but 
 tons ; to set up every night with a sick child, until he comes 
 home from the Odd Fellows' Hall, or the temperance 
 meeting; or if it is election times, you have a right to stay 
 home and get up big dinners, while he takes care of the 
 president's business and comes in at meal times, with a 
 regiment of Hoosier gangers to muss up the house and spit 
 on your clean carpets but you can't vote. No ! a woman 
 can't vote." 
 
 "Nor figure in the Senate," said Miss Fobes. 
 
 "No," said Mrs. Grimes; " God has given her a diffe 
 rent place. Adam was made first, and all creation was put 
 under his administration woman's place is by his side to 
 assist and comfort, honor and obey." 
 
 "Some husbands," said Mrs. Pinkton, looking indig-
 
 MRS. BEN DARBY. 331 
 
 nantly, " could not be honored even if they were obeyed 
 such poor, pusillanimous " 
 
 "When I say man," said Mrs. Grimes, "I mean man, 
 and not individual brutes." 
 
 " I like the men very well in their proper places, and in 
 season," said Mrs. Pinkton. 
 
 " That is to say, when you want money," said Miss 
 Fobes ; "or to take a trip to the 'Falls,' or to New York 
 city, or sit up with the sick baby or in case of a thunder 
 storm. Mrs. Jenkins, must I put sleeves in this apron ?" 
 
 " Just as you please, dear." 
 
 " How do you like our new preacher, Mrs. Rosburn ?" 
 asked Mrs. Paine. 
 
 " I have never heard him." 
 
 " Never heard him ! how you talk." 
 
 " I attend Mr. Gray's church." 
 
 "Ah! indeed!" 
 
 "Mr. Gray is from the east, is he not?" asked Mrs. 
 Paine. 
 
 "Yes indeed!" replied Mrs. Rosburn, "you can tell 
 that as soon as he rises in the pulpit he is very graceful." 
 
 "Well, that's the main thing," said Mrs. Saul Jenkins; 
 " if he only has his heart full of grace, that is the best 
 gift he can possess." 
 
 " I heard some one say he was an Odd Fellow," said 
 Mrs. Tucker. 
 
 " If there is anything odd about him, I never noticed 
 it," replied Mrs. Jenkins. 
 
 " The Order of Odd Fellows, I mean, Mrs. Jenkins." 
 
 " Preachers have no business in such conclaves," said 
 Mrs. Tucker.
 
 332 MRS. BEN DABBY. 
 
 "Why, it is a very good institution," said Mrs. Paine, 
 " and I can't see why preachers may not reap its benefits." 
 
 "Benefits! la! Mrs. Paine," said Mrs. Pinkton, "do 
 you let Mr. Paine pull the wool over your eyes that way. 
 I know very well, if there was anything so very good in it 
 they would not cover it up so closely." 
 
 " They do a great deal of good, I know," replied Mrs. 
 Paine, tartly, and her eyes snapped like a wild cat's. "Look 
 at the widow McKenis what would she have done if it 
 had not been for the Odd Fellows all the time he was 
 sick, they kept him, and paid his doctor bills, and buried 
 him and only see now how genteel the girls look, and 
 Walter is going to college now don't tell me they are not 
 doing good." 
 
 " Dear me, Mrs. Paine, you need not flare up that way; I 
 mean that a man has no business with secrets he ought not 
 to know anything but what his wife does," said Mrs. Pinkton. 
 
 "Then some of them would know very little," whispered 
 Mrs. Berryman, a lady with a bright sunny look, and a 
 dimple in her cheek. "Please hand me that gusset, Mrs. 
 Smith." 
 
 " What ! put gussets in a sack ?" 
 
 "Why not?" 
 
 " Oh, it is useless they will not know the difference 
 in Ohati." 
 
 They both laughed heartily at poor little Mrs. Pinkton, 
 but the simple soul thought they were laughing at the 
 South Sea Islanders. 
 
 " Oh ! wad some pow'r the giftie gie us 
 To see oursel's as ithers see us, 
 It wad frae monie a blunder free us, 
 An' foolish notion."
 
 MRS. BEN DARBY. 333 
 
 But there was no such talisman vouchsafed to Mrs. Pink- 
 ton so she was often found shooting her arrows in the 
 dark sometimes they rebounded. 
 
 Mrs. Smith took her work, and went over to the window, 
 where Mrs. Pinkton was cutting out aprons for the coming 
 generation. She seated herself, and sewing rapidly with 
 out raising her eyes, said, " Mrs. Pinkton, was Mrs. Berry- 
 man laughing at you ?" 
 
 " No why should she ?" 
 
 " Yes she was !" 
 
 " Is my collar on straight ?" 
 
 " Yes it is very becoming." 
 
 " Oh, well ! it could not have been me she was quiz 
 zing." 
 
 " She was though," answered Mrs. Smith, " she has a 
 fashion of making jests these western people all do it 
 and we never get thanked for trying to refine them they 
 are so rude and so uncouth. I wonder if Indiana will ever 
 be civilized," continued Mrs. Smith, raising her voice for 
 the benefit of her listeners. 
 
 "After a while I hope it will, at least," said Mrs. Ros- 
 burn, " there are a great many eastern folks coming out 
 indeed there is a great change since I came." 
 
 " When I came out," said Mrs. Smith, " I did not think 
 I could stand it a week longer we could not get anything 
 we wanted and the houses are put up like barns, and with 
 so little judgment no pantries, no dressing closets the 
 poorest dwelling in New England is better fixed." 
 
 "After all, however," said Mrs. Berryman, triumphantly, 
 " Indiana is the fifth State in the Union." 
 
 " Gracious ! I don't see how that can be," cried Mrs.
 
 334 MRS. BEN DARBY. 
 
 Pinkton, "it ain't the fifth, in my opinion, by a dozen I 
 never shall be able to enjoy myself here." 
 
 "Why don't you go back?" said Mrs. Berryman, "no 
 use suffering here, when you could be so happy at your 
 old home." 
 
 "Well, Mr. Pinkton gets a fine practice here the place 
 is well calculated for his business we came out to make 
 money. 
 
 "He skins the Hoosiers, and you abuse them that is 
 not fair," said Mrs. Berryman laughing. 
 
 "No," cried Mrs Jenkins, "you must not drink the 
 milk and kick the can it ain't good policy." 
 
 "When we first came out here," said Mrs. Smith, "I 
 went over one day to Timothy Strong's carpenter shop, and 
 asked him if he had any ready-made paste-boards; says he, 
 ' Ready-made I don't know what you mean.' " 
 
 " ' Have you any paste-boards ?' said I. " 
 
 " ' No madam we never deal in the article you can 
 find lots of them at Miss Dickens's milliner shop.' ' 
 
 " He thought you meant bonnet boards." 
 
 " Precisely so." 
 
 "He was quizzing you," said Mrs. Berryman, "you 
 know we Hoosiers can do that." 
 
 " Not a bit of it, madam ! he did not know any better 
 but see, I have sewed this seam up, wrong side upward 
 what a pity I thank you for the scissors, Mrs. Paine." 
 
 "Mrs. Smith, that was not as bad as the mistake between 
 Patsy Fields and myself. She came over to our house 
 one morning, I was busy knitting, ' Mrs. Pinkton,' said 
 she, ' won't you be pleased to loan mother a spider, a little 
 one will do, so its legs ain't off.' 'No Patsy,' says I, 'what
 
 MRS. BEN DABBY. 335 
 
 under the sun does your mother want with a spider ?' " 
 ' It is a very queer notion, Mrs. Pinkton, I know, but sick 
 folks will have strange idees all at once, mother took a 
 fancy to biscuit, and she says -she must have spider 
 biscuits.' " 
 
 " ' Laws me ! what a notion it's enough to kill her,' 
 says I. ' No,' said Patsy, ' the doctor said she might 
 have them, provided we did not make them too rich.' " 
 
 "'And how do you make them, Patsy ?' said I." 
 
 " ' Just like other biscuits,' said Patsy. ' After you 
 work them well, you roll them out and cut them, and lay 
 them on the board, and then they are ready for the spider.' 
 'Marcy! child,' said I, 'you will make me cascade; go 
 along, I have no spiders, and if I had, I could not bear to 
 handle them.' So home she went, and we have never 
 been friends since. She said I was the proudest and the 
 stingiest lady in Hap-Hazard. She knew I had three spi 
 ders big, fine ones ; she saw them turned up under the 
 dresser." 
 
 " Talking of doctors," said Mrs. Lawson, " puts me in 
 mind of Jane Groves. They say she is going to be mar 
 ried to Dr. Carrington." 
 
 " You don't tell me ?" said Mrs. Jenkins. 
 
 " Yes, and they say Tom Carrington is sitting to Kitty 
 Sparks, and I should not wonder if it was true. He- wears 
 one of Kitty's rings ; Sally Allen said she saw it, and 
 would be qualified that it was hers." 
 
 " That will raise Mrs. Sparks a foot," said Miss Fobes, 
 "getting into such a big set." 
 
 " Sally marrying Eli Sands will balance accounts," said 
 Mrs. Smith, spitefully. " He ran off to California, and left
 
 336 MBS. BEN DARBY. 
 
 her without a dime, and if it had not been for the Odd 
 Fellows, at New Albany, she never could have reached 
 home ; but he died on the route, and the Order made up 
 money to send Mrs. Sands home." 
 
 "And they tell me that Nathan Peck is going to take 
 another wife." 
 
 " La, me ! Mrs. Jenkins, and his wife ain't been dead 
 three months," said Miss Fobes. 
 
 " Yes, 'Liza, I guess its four." 
 
 " No, Mrs. Jenkins," cried Mrs. Lawson, "its only three ; 
 when was election ?" 
 
 " The first Monday in August." 
 
 "Well, his wife died the day after." 
 
 "I know it is four months," said Mrs. Lawson, " for it 
 was the very day my Alice Olivia was born, and she is four 
 months old to-day." 
 
 "Oh ! I give it up," said Miss Fobes, "your almanac 
 is correct data. Dear me ! we must sew faster, or we shall 
 not get through this pile of steam loom."
 
 MRS. BEN DAHur. 337 
 
 r 33. 
 
 " There's some exception man an' woman, 
 But this is gentry life in common." 
 
 THERE was a little interruption in the conversation of the 
 ladies of the Union Missionary Sewing Society, occasioned 
 by the entrance of a member. She came in panting and 
 rolling*up her large blue eyes, as if she had been driven in 
 by a clap of thunder, and threw herself, apparently ex 
 hausted, on the first seat which presented itself, and begged 
 some of the ladies to give her a glass of water. She was 
 a very fine looking woman, as Mrs. Jenkins said, if she 
 would only let herself be, but she put on so many airs and 
 outlandish ways, and claimed so many attentions, that there 
 was nothing of herself left. She was quite tall, her fore 
 head high and expansive, for a woman's to be, but Mrs. 
 Stella White Rumsey thought she had as good a right to 
 use certain fine sharp-edged instruments as the other sex, 
 and there was no reason she could not have as intellectual 
 a forehead as any one else. So she shaved it up in front, 
 to suit her ideas of a model brow. 
 
 She was a poetess, and had written many communications 
 over the signature of " Stella Sebella." She occupied 
 the poet's corner in the Hap-Hazard Telegraph. She was a 
 harmless member of the Society. It is true, she did very 
 little toward its advancement. She was ever so completely 
 
 wrapped up in her own wild cogitations, that the gossip 
 29
 
 338 MRS. BEN DAKBX\ 
 
 flew by her " like the idle wind, which she regarded not." 
 Whenever her vote was needed, or her opinion desired, 
 (which the ladies sometimes did her the compliment to 
 crave) her thoughts had gone forth into the interminable 
 fields of imagination. Sometimes she was seated in a 
 "bower of roses by Bendemer's stream," or in 
 
 -A gorgeous hall 
 
 Lighted far up for festival; 
 
 Braided tresses and cheeks of bloom, 
 
 Diamond agaff, and milk-white plume ; 
 
 Censers of roses, vases light, 
 
 Like what the moon sheds on a summer's night 
 
 Youths and maidens with linked hands 
 
 Joined in the graceful sarabands," 
 
 or roaming through Eden with Milton or with the lovely 
 young Lavinia, gleaning Palaemon's fields or lingering in 
 the fertility of her own poetical vision. 
 
 After recovering her composure, she begged the ladies 
 to excuse her late arrival. She said she had become so in 
 tensely engrossed in her book, that she was perfectly un 
 conscious of the rapidity of time. Before she was aware 
 of it, she found herself wandering with Bryant in his au 
 tumnal woods. 
 
 " Where the gay company of trees look down 
 On the green fields below." 
 
 " Ain't she brazen ?" whispered Mrs. Jenkins to Mrs. 
 Smith. " I'd be ashamed to tell it tramping through the 
 commons with a man a married man, too. It ain't fair 
 if I was Mrs. Bryant, I'd hoist her, certain." 
 
 " She means the poet," said Mrs. Smith. 
 
 " It matters not what he is ; he is no great shakes, or he 
 would not be leading another man's wife astray."
 
 MKS. BEN DARJJF. 339 
 
 Mrs. Smith put her foot on Mrs. Jenkins's toe ; Mrs. 
 Lawson looked at Mrs. Paine, and smiled knowingly. 
 
 Mrs. Stella White Rumsey fanned herself, declaring she 
 was nearly expiring with heat that she was quite fagged 
 out ; for the last week she had been dragged from pillar to 
 post, in her late visit to Cincinnati. She declared folks had 
 no mercy no feeling. 
 
 " That is the natural consequence of being a lioness," said 
 Mrs. Berryman, with a wicked twinkle of her eye. " If 
 you will dance, you must pay the piper." 
 
 "How do you think Harriet Beecher Stowe stands it? 
 Did you ever read Uncle Tom's Cabin?" 
 
 "Never," said Mrs. Rumsey; "I am very sure nothing 
 could be interesting where the hero is a great double-jointed 
 negro." 
 
 " But it is interesting," said Mrs. Lawson ; " I know it 
 don't pretend to be a history of the great and the refined ; 
 it was written to do good ; I could not put it down after I 
 took it up until I got through. When Lotty Jane got hold 
 of it, I thought in my soul she would have growed to the 
 chair ; says I, 'Lotty, come to supper ?' 'Oh ! mother,' she 
 says, ' I can't eat while Eliza is walking over the river with 
 her boy ;' and how the poor thing cried when that monster 
 had poor, dear, old Uncle Tom flogged." 
 
 " La! Miss Lawson, I thought you Kantuck folks believed 
 in flogging ?" 
 
 " Not that kind, and under such circumstances, such a 
 faithful creature. Ought I to put a ruffle on this sleeve, 
 Miss Jenkins ?" 
 
 " If you have bits enough left, you had as well 'set it off
 
 340 MKS. BEN DARBY. 
 
 a little ; it will give it a finished look. Did you say Pris- 
 cella Vaugh was a medium ?" 
 
 " Yes, I did that very thing." 
 
 " She denies it, and says she never had communication 
 with a spirit in her life." 
 
 " I said she was a medium for tattlers ; as to the spirits, 
 Mrs. Lawson, all I have to say is, there are more kinds 
 than one." 
 
 "Do you believe in the rappers ?" 
 
 " I cannot say I do ; but there is something mighty 
 strange in it." 
 
 "Were you ever at Mrs. Baker's, to see the medium 
 from Cincinnati ?" 
 
 " 'Shaw," said Miss Fobes, "it is all humbug, and if it was 
 a fact that were done, it is witchcraf, and as such I eschew it." 
 
 " It is very queer you will allow that, Miss Fobes. You 
 know Tilman Burns ?" 
 
 "Oh, yes, everybody knows Tilman." 
 
 " Well, Tilman Burns came over to our house ; we were 
 peeling peaches to dry, and were sitting in the back porch. 
 Jane Shaw was there ; she was sitting between Lotty Jane 
 and William Henry, and she threw a peach and hit Til. 
 plump in the mouth ; with that they commenced romping ; 
 they turned over a tub of peaches; broke a five gallon crock 
 filled with nice clings, all cut and stoned, ready for the kiln; 
 poor Jane got her foot very badly cut, and Tilman streaked 
 it for the Doctor; and when he found him he was at Mrs. 
 Baker's, and he says, that when he went in, the little table 
 that always sets by the cupboard was following the girl 
 round the room !"
 
 MKS. BEN DARBV. 341 
 
 "Mrs. Lawson, that is some of Tilman's yarns." 
 
 " He says he saw it." 
 
 " Does the Doctor believe in it ?" 
 
 " In course he does ; he has had communication with 
 several spirits." 
 
 " Some of his departed patients ?" says Mrs. Berryman. 
 
 " Has he quit drinking?" asked Mrs. Tucker. 
 
 " Yes, I believe so." 
 
 " It has come to him lately, then," said Pinkton. 
 
 "Ever since his shop burned down; you know every 
 body said that he set it on fire himself, with mixing up his 
 trucks, when he was tight." 
 
 " Mrs. Tucker, I would not live with a drunkard ; it is 
 dangerous. Now, there is Mrs. Williams, she can't be per 
 suaded to leave her husband ; she loves him in spite of 
 everything." 
 
 " It is a mystery to me, and always has been, how a 
 woman can love a drunkard ; living with him is another 
 affair. If Mr. Pinkton drank I might live with him ; but I 
 tell you he would have a hot house." 
 
 " If my husband was an inebriate, said Mrs. Stella White 
 Rumsey, I should pity him, and ' pity swells the tide of 
 love ;' I could not forsake him, and leave him to the 'con 
 tumely of the world ! oh, no, 
 
 ' Ties around this heart arc spun, 
 Which cannot, will not, be undone.' " 
 
 " Some men can't help it," said Mrs. Grimes, "that is, if 
 they give themselves up to it at first, it becomes a chronic 
 disease, and needs a physician and a remedy as much as 
 the liver complaint or cholera ; they ought to be taken care 
 of and treated like patients."
 
 342 MRS. BEN DAKBT. 
 
 " It pains me to see that poor young creature, who lives 
 in Mrs. Parson's old house," said Mrs. Rosburn; "they 
 say she is suffering." 
 
 "Suffering, and we working for the Hottentot!" cried 
 Mrs. Grimes ; " we are not half doing our duty." 
 
 " Her husband comes home drunk every two or three 
 days ; sometimes he is very boisterous," said Mrs. Smith. 
 
 " She is lovely," said Mrs. Rumsey, " very lovely; I saw 
 her in Cincinnati." 
 
 " Where do they hail from ?" asked Mrs. Jenkins. 
 
 " New York city." 
 
 " Some poor, broken scamp, come out here to recruit," 
 said Mrs. Berryman; " in a year from now he will be on stilts, 
 looking down on the whole community; that is the way the 
 Eastern people do ; they come here from Lowell, or the 
 Bowery, in New York, with nothing but assurance ; with 
 that raw material they work themselves into office; then 
 they get the ' big head.' " 
 
 " Yes, the Lowell girls come out as missionaries of 
 science, to illuminate with radiance these chaotic regions, 
 where the sun of knowledge has never yet risen," said Mrs. 
 Rumsey. 
 
 " It is best not to answer that," whispered Mrs. Ber 
 ryman. 
 
 " I don't take that, Mrs. Rumsey; I am a New Eng- 
 lander," said Mrs. Roseman ; " but I despise allusions." 
 
 Mrs. Jenkins declared that the sun was down, and it was 
 time to adjourn. The ladies themselves began to imagine 
 that domestic affairs needed some little attention ; so they 
 folded up the garments they had finished, packed away the 
 remnants for future consideration ; then, gathering bonnets
 
 MRS. BEN DABBY. 343 
 
 and shawls, sacks and mantillas, they went through the 
 parting scenes as usual ; and as some of my readers have 
 never been so fortunate as to partake of the hospitalities of 
 the West, I will proceed with my delineation. 
 
 " Mrs. Grimes, I wish you good morning," said Mrs. 
 Rossman, bowing herself gracefully ; " I shall be happy to 
 have you call." 
 
 " The sight of you, Mrs. Grimes, on Cross street, 
 would be good for sore eyes," said Mrs. Lawson. 
 
 " Well, I'll try and come before long. Don't wait for 
 me." 
 
 " Now see that you do !" 
 
 " Mrs. Lawson, I hope you have not forgotten the way 
 to our house !" 
 
 " Not by a long ways, Jane. I had a half a mind to 
 go down on Friday, but it rained powerfully before I could 
 start." 
 
 " Why don't you never come up Mrs. Berryman?" 
 
 " I have been six times to your once !" 
 
 "All but that ! I know very well I was at your house 
 last ! Don't you recollect the day Jemima got her foot 
 scalded ?" 
 
 " Oh ! yes, very true ; well, come again don't be cere 
 monious." 
 
 " Mrs. Pinkton, I think you make yourself very 
 scace!" said Mrs. Jenkins, as she tied on her bonnet. 
 
 " I have been staying with Sally Ann. You know Sally 
 Ann has a pair of beautiful twins ?" 
 
 " No ! has she ?" 
 
 " Yes, and boys at that !" 
 
 " Did you ever !"
 
 344 MRS. BEN DARBY. 
 
 " Mrs. Berryraan, how do you like Mrs. Rumsey's way 
 of trimming the forehead ?" whispered Mrs. Smyth; "does 
 it not look classical ?" 
 
 " Take away the c-1, and you will have it exactly," re 
 plied Mrs. Berryman, laughing, and throwing on her man 
 tilla ; it takes a heap of people to make a world, Mrs. 
 Smyth 1" 
 
 "It does that!"
 
 MRS. BEN DAKBY. 345 
 
 Loveliest of lovely things are they 
 On earth, that soonest pass away ; 
 The rose, that lives its little hour, 
 Is prized beyond the sculptured flower. BRYANT. 
 
 IT was Indian summer ; everything was beautiful and 
 quiet. The air was soft and rich with autumnal fragrance. 
 Nature was trying to recover her June looks ; but Time's 
 treacherous finger had touched every leaf and flower ; 
 decay was doing its work in the germ and in the sap. The 
 colors were bronzed and crimsoned by the heat; crisped 
 by the early frosts. Beauty still haunted the forest-hills, 
 and lingered on the banks of La Belle Riviere. Wreaths 
 of mist gathered about the horizon, and covered the sun, 
 as if with a retecious vail. Threads of gossamer were 
 linked from leaf to leaf of the ash trees and the birch, 
 floating like silver tissue in the light breeze from the lazy 
 limbs of the weeping willow. There was music in the 
 woods the choral of the summer birds lingering about 
 their old haunts, awaiting the northern winds, to depart to 
 new homes the melody was so memorative, so sweet, yet 
 so very sad. The flowers were almost cheated by appear 
 ances, and were half inclined to peep out and try the reali 
 ties of the season. 
 
 It was the period of rest, inertness, and reminiscences ; 
 and as Kate Duval sat at her cottage door, under the mul-
 
 346 MRS. BEN DARBY. 
 
 berry tree, that threw its shade over her humble resting- 
 place resting place ! No ! she was like the dove of the 
 ark the waters abroad were too turbulent and deep. She 
 found no spot for the sole of her foot ; she fled to the mov 
 ing ark. So Kate's thoughts were fixed on the ark of the 
 covenant the pavilion of God's love ; the rest prepared 
 for the sorrowful and despised of earth, 
 
 " Oh ! who could bear life's stormy doom, 
 
 Did not thy wing of love 
 Come lightly beaming o'er the gloom, 
 Our peace-branch from above !" 
 
 Kate sat near a scanty pallet, on which was extended the 
 suffering little Robin, her bright, beautiful boy, reduced to 
 skin and bone. His large, mysterious ej^es were turned 
 upward, watching the flitting of the leaves and the fila 
 ments of sunshine that peeped through the thick foliage of 
 the multicaulis. An infant about a month old, meager, 
 weary of its existence, and petulant with pain and lassitude, 
 lay on her bosom, and she, in vain, trying to charm it to 
 repose. 
 
 " Mamma," said Robin, reaching out his waxen hand, 
 " take me to your bosom." 
 
 " Yes love, as soon as little Maria is still." 
 
 " Mamma, if God had not sent us that little cross baby, 
 you could love me and nurse me as you did when I was 
 sick at Cincinnati. My throat is hot, mamma. I wish I 
 had a drink in a tumbler glass tumbler, mamma, and I 
 could look through it." 
 
 "Dear, you shall have a tumbler," cried Kate, her lips 
 quivering with emotion, and a wild fire in her eyes. 
 
 " Yes, mamma, one cool drink in a tumbler, and your
 
 MRS. BEN DARBY. 347 
 
 little Robin will fly up, up there where that little bird 
 sits. Will papa come to-night, and get us bread? you 
 said he would. Will he get me a tumbler of water ? No, 
 mamma, if he comes he will be drunk nobody ever gets 
 drunk in heaven, mamma ?" 
 
 "No, no, my son my angel." 
 
 " No one says cross words, mamma, darling ?" 
 
 " No bless your sweet tongue." 
 
 " And there is cool water there, and silver cups ?" 
 
 " Oh ! yes, my child, a fountain of living waters." 
 
 " And it never gets dark there ?" 
 
 "Never! never!" and the tears fell in streams down 
 Kate's pale cheek. 
 
 " And nobody gets sick there and dies ?" 
 
 " No, my love." 
 
 " If they was to, God would let the angels bring them 
 water, I know he would from the big fountain Oh 
 mamma, don't cry do people cry in heaven ?" 
 
 " Oh ! sweet one, God wipes away all tears," replied the 
 weeping mother. 
 
 " And the angels kiss them off I 'spose but tell me, 
 mamma, will he come there ?" 
 
 "Who, my son?" 
 
 " You know mamma papa." 
 
 " Hush, Robin dear, lie still, you worry yourself." 
 
 " Oh ! my throat ! Dear me, if I only had a little water 
 in a tumbler, mamma just one mouthful." 
 
 " You shall have it see there comes your papa he 
 will get you fresh water." 
 
 " Oh ! Clarence, poor little Robin is worse his fever is 
 very high. He wants to drink water out of a tumbler, and
 
 348 MRS. BEN DARBT. 
 
 have not one in the world to give him he must not die 
 without " 
 
 " Well, you would come where there is no sympathy 
 I hope you are satisfied." 
 
 " But you will get a tumbler for our poor boy ?" 
 
 " I have not a cent in the world I just spent the last 
 for bread here it is," and he drew a loaf of bread from 
 his pocket. 
 
 " There is twenty-five cents, Clarence, do haste, and get 
 him a tumbler Clarence, he may die " 
 
 " Papa ! papa !" said little Robin, holding out his arms, 
 " I am so hot, and so sick will you papa, will you -just 
 this once?" 
 
 " My poor boy," said Clarence, leaning over the little 
 withered flower Oh ! God it is too much ! What a wretch 
 I am !" 
 
 " Papa, don't cry," said Robin, putting his little fingers 
 to his father's eyes, " don't cry, but be good poor mamma 
 loves you so did you come home drunk last night ? I 
 dreamed you did, and that you struck mamma " 
 
 " Oh ! hush, Robin, love don't talk so much." 
 
 " Papa, you will not come home drunk, when you go 
 after my little tumbler, will you ?" 
 
 Clarence tore himself from the little arms that were 
 twined around his neck, and drawing his hat over his eyes, 
 hastened down street as fast as he could go. Hour after 
 hour passed away, and he did not return. The sun was 
 down, and still he did not come. 
 
 "Why does papa stay so?" asked the suffering child, 
 " I know he is drinking somewhere." 
 
 " Be quiet love, he will come, and "
 
 MRS. BEN DARBY. 340 
 
 " Yes," cried Robin, starting from the pillow and 
 looking wildly around, " he will come after he buys whisky 
 with the money, and leave me no tumbler. Oh ! he is a 
 wicked father," and the poor little sufferer trembled with 
 excitement. 
 
 " Lie down, my darling," said Kate in a low voice, for 
 her heart was full and her frame very weak, " watch little 
 sister, and I will have a glass for you yes, Robin, you 
 shall, love." 
 
 Gathering her shawl about her, she drew the door to 
 and darted over the commons to a fine building, newly 
 erected, but there was no one in ; she then turned to a very 
 comfortable house that stood directly behind; she opened 
 the gate and hurried wildly in. 
 
 An old lady was busily engaged in arranging her table 
 for the evening meal, with all the full compliment of a 
 plentiful repast I mean a Hoosier supper. Turning, she 
 saw the delicate stranger, trembling so nervously that she 
 could neither speak nor move. 
 
 She had, as if by instinctive power, ventured into the 
 proper place the home of kind feelings. 
 
 Mrs. Grimes dropped the cream mug from her fingers, 
 and caught her in her arms and drew her to the lounge. 
 
 " Oh ! madam," cried Kate, " are you a mother ?" and 
 Kate in great agitation, seemed almost crazy. 
 
 " Be sure I am, child, and will be one to you speak 
 out what is the matter ?" 
 
 "My child, my dear boy is ill very ill, and all he 
 craves is a glass to drink from Oh ! madam, pardon me, 
 misfortune has made me simple," and poor Kate cried as 
 if her heart would break.
 
 350 MRS. BEN DARBT. 
 
 Mrs. Grimes wiped the tears from her cheek, and taking 
 her hands between hers said, " Now, dear, tell me, who 
 are you ?" 
 
 " My name is Duval I live in the little brown cottage 
 over the way but I left my children alone, and must go 
 back Oh ! madam, thank you." 
 
 When Kate entered her humble roof, she found both 
 children asleep, and before Kobin awoke, she had in a 
 measure recovered from her agitation, but her tears were 
 still flowing. Sympathy, that mighty pacifier of human 
 wretchedness, fell upon her burning heart like the morning 
 
 and the evening dew. 
 
 
 When the little boy awoke from his troubled slumber, 
 
 his bright eyes danced as his mother handed him, not only 
 a glass of water, but it had a piece of ice in it. It cooled 
 his throat, and he seemed quite revived until his father re 
 turned, which was sometime after night came on. He was 
 very drunk. He had forgotten what he went after, until 
 his poor boy, with infantine earnestness, recalled it. But he 
 only laughed hideously, and said, "Better luck next time, 
 my boy!" 
 
 " I won't be your boy any more, papa," said the child 
 faintly, " I am mamma's." 
 
 "Ah! how so, Robin?" 
 
 " See here what mamma got didn't you, mamma ?" 
 and he held the precious glass in his trembling hands. 
 
 " The devil she did," cried Clarence, snatching it from 
 him. " Then you did not give me all the money you had, 
 but deceived me!" 
 
 " I did, indeed, I did, Clarence ; only hear me." 
 
 He was in a rage which knew no bounds. Forgetting all
 
 MRS. BEN DARBY. 351 
 
 her love and devotion, he ground his teeth, and looking, 
 with all the evil of his nature concentered in one glance, he 
 threw the precious tumbler at her. " Teach my son," he 
 said, "to hate me!" 
 
 The missile fell against the wall, and broke in pieces. 
 
 The sick child was so terrified that he became entirely 
 delirious, and springing from his bed, ran to the corner of 
 the room, where, overcome by his exertion, he lay panting 
 and nearly senseless. 
 
 Kate had risen to her feet. She held her puny babe in 
 one arm, and was about passing her husband, when he 
 seized her roughly by the arm, and held her back. 
 
 "Where are you going, madam ?" 
 
 " To my child, my Robin don't you see he is dying '?" 
 
 " All a ruse to get past me," cried Clarence. 
 
 " Oh ! Clarence, see, he is in a convulsion," and she 
 struggled to get away. 
 
 " Let me go, Clarence Duval, or you will rue it until the 
 day of your death. Oh ! my poor, dying boy, is there no 
 help ?" 
 
 A slight rap was heard at the door, and Clarence had 
 scarcely time enough to release his wife, before Mrs. 
 Grimes turned the latch and stood before him. 
 
 "We want no intruders here, good woman," said Clar 
 ence, turning his rage upon the new-comer. " So take 
 yourself off!" 
 
 "I will, when I get ready," replied Mrs. Grimes, coolly, 
 taking up the struggling child. "Your child is very sick, 
 madam poor little fellow." 
 
 " Oh ! yes," said Kate, "tell me, is he dying will he 
 die ? my own sweet Robir."
 
 352 MKS. BEN DARBY. 
 
 " Peihaps not," replied Mrs. Grimes, feeling his pulse; 
 " he is cold ; give me something to wrap him up in. Ah ! 
 that will do; his feet are cakes of ice." 
 
 " When we want your services, madam," said Clarence, 
 menacingly, " we will send for you do you hear ?" 
 
 " Be quiet, sir, or I will have you put where all such 
 birds ought to be." 
 
 " This is my house, and I am master of it." 
 
 " And a sorry looking concern it is," said Mrs. Grimes ; 
 " I'd be ashamed to tell my name if I was a New York 
 lawyer, and could live in no better fix. As to being master, 
 it is a pity you can't master yourself; I am sorry for you, 
 indeed and double." 
 
 " Look here, I want you to leave !" 
 
 " I don't care a snap of my finger for such as you, sir 
 I despise a person that has nothing of the man about him 
 but his breeches. If you don't like me, why you need not 
 look at me, that's all that's in it ; I mean to stay here and 
 assist your poor wife, with her sick child. Have you no 
 help, ma'am ?" 
 
 " None but Heaven," said Kate, in a low tone. " Excuse 
 me, madam, I must weep ; I can't help it." 
 
 Clarence went off, grumbling, and Mrs. Grimes set about 
 searching every hole and corner, "to rake up," she said, 
 something for supper ; but she found no flour-barrel no 
 coffee-mill no gridiron no tea-caddy. 
 
 "How some people can live, is a mystery to me," said 
 she, as she investigated the kitchen in despair, "here is 
 nothing to cook, and nothing to cook it in ; a drunkard's 
 pantry, surely." 
 
 She bathed the little boy in warm water ; gave him some
 
 MRS. BEN DARBY. 353 
 
 saffron tea, and actually brought the disease out ; his face 
 became crimson. 
 
 " As I hope to be saved, Mrs. Duval," said the old lady, 
 peering over him with the candle, " your boy has the mea 
 sles ; see, they are out thick as hops well, I'll declare !" 
 
 " The measles !" cried Kate, springing forward with re 
 newed hope, " then, perhaps, he will get better." 
 
 " He will, that very thing, dear ; the worst is all over 
 now ; keep him well wrapped up, and give him a-plenty of 
 tea, and he will do finely ; take good care, and fasten up 
 your door I will be back in a few minutes. Do you feel 
 ill?" asked Mrs. Grimes, as she noticed that Kate held her 
 self up by the bedstead post, and looked so feeble, " per 
 haps you are weary ; lie down by your children. What is 
 it ? do tell." 
 
 " Starvation !" said Kate, with a wild, unearthly stare, 
 " starvation ! I have worked hard my strength has 
 failed my baby drains my constitution it feeds upon my 
 life. I thought to die unpitied, but oh ! your sweet, kind 
 voice stirs up thoughts of home of mother of brother, 
 and all the dear ones of old." 
 
 " Oh ! don't cry, mamma," said little Robin, when he 
 saw her weeping on Mrs. Grimes's shoulder. " Papa 
 brought you some bread." 
 
 " Yes, Robin, keep quiet love ; the good lady, with rolls 
 and butter, will come soon." 
 
 Mrs. Grimes came in with a basket of provisions, and 
 everything necessary for the sick boy and his starving 
 mother. 
 
 And Peter Larkins came over with a rocking-chair for 
 Mrs. Duval, and a cradle for the baby, and some finely split 
 30
 
 354 . MRS. BEN DARBY. 
 
 wood to kindle a fire, as the evening was becoming cool. 
 Mrs. Larkins brought a comfort or two, and held the baby, 
 while Mrs. Grimes fixed the bed for the sick boy. A bright 
 lamp was also cheering the room. 
 
 "Mamma, we will not see the dark to-night; the lamp 
 won't let us will it ?" said Robin, as he gazed with rap 
 ture at the lamp, which the kind ladies had placed over the 
 chimney. Many a dark hour had he hid his face in his 
 wretched mother's lap, trembling with fear and apprehen 
 sion. Children never love darkness. 
 
 Robin soon began to mend, and with such excellent 
 nursing, his strength soon returned, and he was able to 
 creep out again to the door-sill. Clarence had never been 
 home since his interview with Mrs. Grimes. When he first 
 came to Hap-Hazard, he made himself known as an Odd 
 Fellow, but after he began to drink hard again, he neglected 
 this association as well as his other advantages. Since the 
 illness of Robin, the Odd Fellows attended very closely to 
 his family. The members of the church gathered around 
 poor Kate with the warmest cordiality. They nursed her 
 during her illness, for she also had taken the measles, and 
 was very ill for weeks. The extreme illness of the mother 
 subjected the baby to a diet which disagreed with its con 
 stitution. It sickened, drooped, and no medicine no cure 
 could restore it. It became weaker and weaker every day, 
 and before the last smile of Indian summer had faded from 
 the sky, the angels had come for her. The little violet eyes 
 slept their last sleep ; its tiny hands were folded on its 
 bosom, and its hair lay like a sunbeam on its milk-white 
 brow. 
 
 They laid it out on a little table, and placed it under the
 
 * 
 
 MRS. BEN DARBY. 366 
 
 front window, and hung there a snowy curtain to exclude 
 the light ; but the fragrance of honeysuckles, which crept 
 through the broken window to the chamber and laid on 
 the worm-eaten sill, breathed over the baby corpse. 
 
 All was still, for the watcher's heart was meekly bowing 
 to the will of Him who knows our burdens. 
 
 It was dark in the room where the child lay, when some 
 one took a candle and led Mrs. Duval in to look upon its 
 features for the last time. She leaned over it kissed its 
 little lips laid her hand upon the sunny tress that filleted 
 its brow, and tears fell fast upon its folded hands. 
 
 " When shall these eyes, my babe, be sealed 
 As peacefully as thine f " 
 
 Just then a white hand was protruded through the win 
 dow-pane and clenched the face of the corpse. 
 
 A wild scream, and poor Kate, terrified, fell exhauste 
 into the arms of her kind attendant. 
 
 "He was there! it was his hand!" cried Kate, in 
 excitement; " I saw it. Clarence was there !" 
 
 "There is no one there," replied Larkins; " I have 
 searched every place." 
 
 " I saw him ; his hand touched the child's face--he was 
 pale and had a black patch over his eye." 
 
 The corpse was moved away from the windovi and Peter 
 Larkins promised that it should not be left aloie ; and Kate 
 retired to bed to weep and mourn, not over the dead that 
 the Lord had taken, but the living. 
 
 Long after the neighborhood had become perfectly quiet, 
 Mrs. Grimes, Mrs. Jenkins, and Peter La/kins, and several 
 others were watching the corpse, sitting in the room where 
 it lay. They were telling, in a low voice, wonderful ghost
 
 
 366 MRS. BEN DABBY. 
 
 stories and horrible incidents of the dead coming to life 
 and the living being frightened to death. 
 
 " Dear, bless me, Peter," said Mrs. Grimes; " don't you 
 mind the time, when there was such a hub-bub in Rich 
 mond about old Uncle Gabriel's insurrection?" 
 
 " Excuse me, Mrs. Grimes, I had not the privilege of 
 being born at that remarkable period." 
 
 "Well, you have heard tell of it; for there never was 
 such a night before or since, nor such a rain since the 
 deluge. In an hour's time Bacon Quarter branch raised so 
 high, that the negroes could not cross it so all their 
 schemes failed." 
 
 " So the old black General was caught?" said Peter. 
 
 "Yes, and hung," continued Mrs. Grimes; "I was but 
 
 a very small child, but I remember the terrible night ; it was 
 
 a general rain, such as never has been since my recollec- 
 
 'on. Well, that very night mother and Polly Grimes, 
 
 th,t is, John's sister " 
 
 'Oh, yes!" said Peter; "I know her very well Mrs. 
 BlaU, as is." 
 
 "A I -was saying, Polly and mother and Jimmy Roane, 
 and lot. of others were sitting up with old Mr. Grimshaw's 
 corpse ; *e had died the night before in his chair. No one 
 knew it uitil morning. He was laid out in the morning ; 
 but they coUd not straighten his limbs at all. He looked 
 very horrible sitting up so still and ghastly with his mouth 
 wide open ant his eyes so distended and glassy. That 
 was the way hewas, when they first discovered that he was 
 dead, and they could not get him to appear much better." 
 
 " How unnatural a dead person looks in a sitting pos 
 ture," remarked Peter.
 
 
 MRS. BEN DARB?. 357 
 
 "Dreadfully," replied Mrs. Grimes; "well, as I was 
 telling you, the wind blew the mournfullest I ever heard, 
 and the limbs of the big sycamore rubbed against the old 
 piazza, sounding just like the wailings of an infant. It 
 seemed too, that every living creature was possessed; the 
 horses were neighing, the cows bellowing, and the peafowls 
 screeched ; the dogs growled as if fearfully beset. After 
 supper oh, yes ! long after supper, mother and I went to 
 bed and left Polly and Jim sitting up ; after a while, Polly 
 got sleepy and went up in the loft and laid down with the 
 children. Jim, you know, was very poor company at best, 
 let alone such a dull occasion ; so Polly give out, and being 
 left quite alone, Jim fell asleep and he slept so sound that 
 it seemed to him (he said afterward) just like a trance. 
 He heard noises in the room a low whispering ; sometimes 
 he dreamed the corpse had raised itself up on the cooling 
 board and straightened itself up ; then it appeared to be 
 himself that was laid out, and he tried to move and could 
 not some one was pressing him down with a large stone. 
 It would have made your hair stand on eend to hear him tell 
 it ! Some thought he had taken too much crab-apple cider 
 on his cherrybounce how that was, I can't say ; but he 
 denied it flatly. All at once, Jim saw the candle flare and 
 he started up from his sleep, and Laws-a-me ! Mr. Lar- 
 kins, didn't you hear something at the window?" 
 
 "I guess it is a night-hawk in the tree go on, Mrs. 
 Grimes." 
 
 " When Jim Roane riz up," continued Mrs. Grimes, 
 " what should he see but old Mr. Grimshaw sitting bolt up 
 in his chair, with his arms hanging down quite limber and 
 his feet pressed out easy like -"
 
 358 MRS. BEN DARBY. 
 
 "Had he come to life again?" asked Mrs. Jenkins. 
 
 " Well, they thought so at first, but after they summoned 
 up courage enough to go up to him, they found out it was 
 only his clothes stuffed up on a pillow, to represent 
 him !" 
 
 " And where was the corpse ?" asked Peter. 
 
 "That has never been known to this day it is a 
 mystery that will never be cleared until the great day." 
 
 " How could it get away ?" asked Susan. 
 
 "Why, the doctors stole it while Jim was in his trance." 
 
 "Listen!" cried Mrs. Jenkins; "some one is at the 
 window ! Go, Mr. Larkins, and see who it is. Just then 
 an arm was pushed through the broken pane, and the cur 
 tain lifted. I should not wonder if it was the doctor's stu 
 dents trying to steal the corpse !" 
 
 " How you talk !" 
 
 " Indeed, I should not ; they come, sometimes, all the 
 way from Cincinnati for them. They took up Elam Lamb's 
 wife's brother-in-law's step-child, that died last Christmas!" 
 
 " You don't say so !" 
 
 "Indeed they did!" 
 
 Peter returned with information that accounted for the 
 interruption. Clarence Duval had been seen twice at the 
 window. Some of the citizens were trying to take him, 
 but he had eluded their pursuit, and had, they presumed, 
 secreted himself in some grogshop. 
 
 " Is there any one in this community vile enough to as 
 sist him in his unmanly ways?" asked Mrs. Jenkins. 
 
 " Yes, madam, in every community." 
 
 " It is time the law was taking hold there is no other 
 hope left !"
 
 MRS. BEN DARBY. 359 
 
 " Duval," said Mr. Larkins, " has drank up his law 
 library, and " 
 
 " Laws me ! I always heard say that the law was the 
 driest thing in nature !" said Mrs. Jenkins, laughing. 
 
 " Yes, but like everything else, it can, madam, be turned 
 into cocktails and smashes /" 
 
 " Well, really," said Mrs. Saul Jenkins, "I wish in my 
 heart " 
 
 What she was going to wish for, I never knew, for just 
 at that instant, some of the neighbors came in, forcing 
 Clarence along with them ; they had found him, but he was 
 delirious, and under the influence of a violent fever ; his 
 clothes were all gone, except his shirt and pants his head 
 was covered with an old hat, which had lost half of its 
 brim, and a good portion of its crown ; all trace of its ori 
 ginal shape or fashion was gone. It would have been a 
 perfect enigma to le roi des chapeliers the immortal 
 Genin. 
 
 He had sold his clothes, and everything he could steal 
 from home, to one of those human vampires who infest 
 every city and village in the Union, where the law has 
 guaranteed them indemnification for all efforts to suppress 
 their outrages on the social orders of life. 
 
 Clarence Duval had drank until he had become a perfect 
 wreck in mind and body. During his absence, he had fre 
 quently returned at night, and looked in at the family, 
 through a broken pane in the window-sash, but seeing 
 strangers administering to their necessities, he dared not 
 show his face. Miserable and sick, he secreted himself in 
 a nauseous cellar, from which he could, at times, steal forth 
 to renew his bottle of " red eye."
 
 360 MRS. BEN DARBY. 
 
 The night the baby was a corpse, he imagined that some 
 thing wrong was in progress at his deserted home. He re 
 solved to linger about the premises to satisfy his curiosity, 
 and also for the purpose of stealing out his last law book, 
 which laid upon the little table by the window. He thought 
 to put his hand through and seize it, but instead of the 
 book, his hand pressed the face of his dead child his 
 daughter ! 
 
 Struck with horror, he rushed from the spot into the ad 
 joining woods. From this moment, it seems, his mind was 
 entirely unbalanced by the horrible sensations which seized 
 upon him. Why he returned again, no one knows, unless 
 it was instinct drawing him to her alone of all the world 
 that loved him. 
 
 Those who were watching for him, found him and 
 brought him to the house he had fallen into a fit of long 
 duration; when it passed off, he was a maniac. They con 
 fined him with cords to his bed. He either suffered violent 
 paroxysms, or lay perfectly insensible to everything around 
 him. 
 
 The Odd Fellows, with the assistance of the kind citizens 
 of Hap-Hazard, did all they could to render Mrs. Duval 
 the aid she so much needed.
 
 MRS. BEN DARBV. 
 
 Cljapter 35. 
 
 Thou bonnie gem. BURNS. 
 
 THE little coffin was lowered to its narrow home, and 
 Maria sleeps where the kind, warm-hearted friends laid 
 her those who had picked her up like a jewel by the 
 wayside. 
 
 In the grave-yard at Hap-Hazard, under a juniper-tree, 
 you can find a white marble slab ; it bears this simple line 
 of Burns, 
 
 "Thou bonnie gem." 
 
 Kate, weak and heart-broken, lingered about her 
 wretched husband until nature failed, and she was again 
 brought to a bed of pain and suffering, from which she 
 did not rise until long after her husband was laid under the 
 clods of the valley. 
 
 His death I cannot record the awful demoniac senti 
 ments and phrases, that composed that terrific drama. 
 They have passed from my memory like some sacrilegious 
 fantasy some unholy dream, leaving only the thrill and 
 pathos, chilling the heart, and curdling the blood ; but I 
 never can forget how he looked, with eyes gleaming like 
 phosphoric rays from their dark, deep cavities, muttering 
 incoherent and unknown sounds striking the air with 
 his clenched fists defying the world to mortal combat 
 screaming and crying now prostrate, rolling, and wal- 
 31
 
 302 MRS. BEN DAUB*. 
 
 tewing blaspheming battling an army of imaginary 
 devils now sinking into torpidity now locked in the rigid 
 embrace of a revolting slumber his eyes term, and half 
 open his mouth ajar, crusted with the froth that issued 
 from his bloated lips, and gurgled down his moustache. 
 His whole nature was' paralyzed. All effort to arouse 
 him, a mockery hopeless and helpless. He expired 
 amid the shrieks of his own blasphemies. All prospect of 
 heaven blotted out forever, he writhes in vivid anticipation 
 of all the horrors that have ever been imagined of that 
 dark region ! region of black despair ! 
 
 This is the finishing stroke to the dram-seller's work; he 
 sends his victim to an immaculate bar, without a prepara 
 tion without a plea ; what cares he, so that he gathers the 
 blistering pennies certificates of future torments for his 
 heart is callous to repentance hermetically sealed to good 
 ness and to truth. 
 
 The non slave-holder and the abolitionist may dwell 
 upon the horrid features of the " negro-buyer," the infer 
 nal trafficker in human gore in human flesh ! tearing 
 asunder all the ties of consanguinity and love ; separating 
 the mother from the infant that draws its life from her bo 
 som ; tearing the husband from the wife of his youth with 
 out one hope of re-union in this valley of sojourn ; consign 
 ing them to hardships and slavery. But, after all, what is 
 he, compared to the monster of civil society !, the liquor- 
 vender the dram-maker. 
 
 The former may part the mother from the child the 
 wife and husband ; but away off in the land of their cap 
 tivity, with merciless task-masters, toil, and starvation, yea, 
 in bodily torture, the unchained spirit the redeemed soul
 
 MRS. BEN DARBY. 363 
 
 free from the shackles of the oppressor, flies back to the 
 memory of a mother's love a father's blessing ; and the 
 poor slave that is pressing sugar or gathering cotton in the 
 plantations, can think of God and of Him who died to save 
 him ; he can pray and hold communion with angels, and be 
 wafted, by prayer and faith, to endless beatitude ; like 
 Moses, he can look beyond his pilgrimage, and survey the 
 promised land, and rejoice in the hope of immortality and 
 bliss, in that region of freedom and happiness that lies 
 beyond the valley of death. He can bear, unmoved, " thte 
 world's dread scorn," nor heed its smile of pity, and while 
 he is toiling beneath a blistering sun, he can sing : 
 
 " Let cares like a wild deluge come, 
 
 Let storms of sorrow fall, 
 So I but safely reach my home, 
 My God, my Heaven, my all.'" 
 
 The "negro-buyer" may sell the sinews, the flesh and 
 the strength ; but the mind ! the soul ! no, he cannot barter 
 them for gold ! 
 
 Behold ! the liquor-seller, the dram-retailer, in his ac 
 cursed stall ; he is coining the widow's tears the orphan's 
 hopes ; he is speculating in human reason ; buying up the 
 feeble efforts of nature to retrieve its lost powers ; he sells 
 the soul to endless perdition ; the weak the tempted, for 
 a shilling ; with poisonous and corrosive merchandise, he 
 burns out the last remains of virtue ; and with his Circean 
 cup, "drugged with the deadly hellebore," destroys every 
 principle of morality, and turns man to a brute. 
 
 All the ties of domestic life are riven in twain ; the son 
 murders the mother who bore him ! the mother, the infant 
 smiling at her breast ! the husband curses the wife. Inno-
 
 364 MRS. BEN DARBY. 
 
 cent souls are decoyed within his circle rifled, and left 
 to the world's mercy. What is it that the dram-seller docs 
 not do that is heinous and demoralizing ? Genius, as ambi 
 tious and soaring as Icarus, is prostrated in the dust to 
 the filth of the gutter ; the soul is incarcerated in utter 
 darkness in despair. He does all this in the present cen 
 tury of order, knowledge, peace and religion ; he is shunned 
 by the good ; despised even by those who seek his domi 
 cile. Lifting the mask from his hideous face, he can say, 
 as the terrible Mokhanna : 
 
 " Here, judge if Hell, with all its powers to damn, 
 Can add one curse to the yile thing I am."
 
 MRS. BEN DARBY. 366 
 
 Cfltulu0ifliu 
 
 AFTER the burial of her husband and child, Mrs. Duval 
 wrote home for assistance and advice, and it was not until 
 Peter Larkins carried the letter to the post-office, that he 
 discovered she belonged to the Temple family ; it is useless 
 to say that this information was very pleasing to the Wolf- 
 Gap friends, and drew the young widow still closer to the 
 sympathetic hearts of her neighbors ; she acknowledged in 
 the depths of her grateful soul she could never repay them 
 for their kindness ; and that one who wished to live unpi- 
 tied and uncared for, must seek the crowded city, where 
 scenes of wretchedness destroy the refinement of the feel 
 ings, and, by degrees, harden the heart, until it becomes 
 suspicious and selfish. 
 
 When Mrs. Duval returned to New York, she was ac 
 companied by Mrs. Grimes and the Larkinses, who were 
 invited to spend the winter in the city; Theodore and Elinor 
 were to be married during their stay. 
 
 Mrs. Duval was so very much caressed in Hap-Hazard, 
 that she left it with many bitter regrets, although she suffered 
 severe trials and mortifications ; yet she was leaving in it 
 the graves of her husband and child the beloved dead
 
 MRS. BEN DARBY. 
 
 the sacred and holy tie that binds the restless heart ever to 
 one spot. It matters not where the precious one reposes ; 
 it may be on the lone hill-side, where travelers scooped its 
 grave ; it may lie beneath the marble of Italy, or the sculp 
 ture of a Canova, or beneath the ocean's waves, in "a 
 deep bed of whispering reeds ;" yet, a mother's heart 
 and a wife's memory can never forget the silent spot ; in 
 hours of solitude and commemoration, the sad heart lingers 
 there, like a pilgrim at his shrine, when it is forgotten 
 and deserted by all the world beside such is a true 
 woman's love. 
 
 Mrs. Duval loved the West its plain manners, and its 
 blunt but straight-forward, go-ahead kindness. It is true 
 she found it mixed up with a little curiosity, a small por 
 tion of officiousness, and sometimes palpably destitute of 
 the refinement of sensibility ; still there was so much of the 
 pure milk of human kindness, a just appreciation of the 
 requirements and the necessities of the stranger, that all 
 minor, delinquencies were forgiven and forgotten. 
 
 There were many crude remarks made on Mrs. Grimes's 
 visit to New York. Mrs. Berryman wondered why such 
 an old-fashioned body as she could think of exhibiting 
 herself in the city; how would she look on Broadway, 
 trying on gloves at Stewart's, or eating lunch at Taylor's, 
 or figuring at the Crystal Palace, if she stays so long. 
 
 These little inuendoes were maliciously repeated to the 
 good lady ; she laughed in her benign manner and said : 
 "Don't be uneasy, my dear children; I will try and not 
 bring disgrace upon Hap-Hazard, but represent it to the 
 best of my ability."
 
 MRS. BEN DAUBY. 367 
 
 A letter has been received from her since her arrival in 
 the city, which brought the pleasing intelligence of the 
 contemplated removal of Mrs. Duval and her mother to 
 the West. 
 
 I suppose they will find room in Hap-Hazard; if not, 
 the Hoosier land is long and wide, and there is no spot in 
 it so arid or forlorn but the weary may find in it rest, and 
 the sufferer sympathy and kindness. 
 
 THE KN1)
 
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 Romanism the Enemy of Education, Free Institutions, 
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 By N. L. BICE, D. D., Pastor of the Second Presbyterian Church, St. 
 Louis. Third edition. 1 VoL 12mo. Cloth 100 
 
 Philosophy of the Plan of Salvation ; 
 
 A book for the times, by an American Citizen ; with an Introductory 
 Essay by CALVIN E. STOWE, D. D. Twelfth Thousand. 1 Vol. 12mo. . 65 
 
 Buchanan on Grape Culture, and Long-worth on the 
 Strawberry. 
 
 Fourth Revised edition. 1 Vol. 12mo. pp. 144. Cloth $0 63 
 
 Sorrow's Roving Adventures; 
 
 By GEO. BORROW, author of "The Gipseys in Spain," "The Bible in 
 Spain," etc. Large Type. Complete in one beautiful Octavo Vol., pp. G50..$l 50 
 
 A Buckeye Abroad; or "Wanderings in Europe and the 
 Orient ; 
 
 By SAMUEL S. COX, Editor of the "Omo STATESMAN." 1 Vol. 12mo. 
 Illustrated $1 25
 
 JUST PUBLISHED! 
 
 MRS, BEN DARBY; - 
 
 OR THE 
 
 WEAL AND WOE OF SOCIAL LIFE. 
 
 One Volume, 12mo. 
 Cincinnati Enquirer* 
 
 " MRS. BEN DAKBY, OB THE WEAL AND WOE or SOCIAL LITE. By A. MAHIA 
 COLLINS. Cincinnati, MOOKE, ANDEKSON & Co. This is one of the best novels 
 we have perused in a long time. The object of the writer the great moral 
 of the sketches of Social Life which are contained in it is to present in a 
 strong and vivid light the blighting influences of intemperance upon the hap 
 piness of society; and although the subject is apparently a hackneyed one, yet 
 the authoress has been able in this volume to give it great interest, by blend 
 ing with it a very excellent story. 
 
 " The stylo in which it is written is attractive and fascinating there is 
 a freshness and originality about it that is very pleasing. The authoress, like 
 most female writers, excels in her descriptions of conversations, which are 
 easy and natural, and that, in our opinion, is a most important feature in all 
 works of fiction. In many novels the characters are made to speak in an nn 
 natural manner, not at all in harmony with the parts assigned them but in 
 this work one of its chief merits is the excellence of its conversations. 
 
 " The moral reflections necessarily connected with the theme which is the 
 basis of the story, are characterized by good sense, and some of them are truly 
 eloquent, suggestive of thought to the reader, and they indicate that the 
 authoress possesses literary abilities of no ordinary kind. . .-j'* -.- V 
 
 " It is through moral and persuasive means, after all, that the opponents 
 of intemperance must rely on to accomplish their ends. Its blighting and 
 injurious results upon the happiness of the race should be pressed home upon 
 the convictions of every one, and as a means of so doing, this WEAL AND Wos 
 OF SOCIAL LIFE cannot but prove a powerful auxiliary. It is destined, undoubt 
 edly, to have a run." 
 
 Christian Herald. 
 
 " Its scenes are laid inVirginia, in New York city, and in the Hoosier State. 
 In all these various localities, the authoress seems equally at home, and por 
 trays life and character with accuracy and with power. She has talents for 
 this kind of writing of high promise Has so many thrilling pas 
 sages and well-drawn characters, that yon read it with absorbed attention. It 
 cannot fail to achieve for Mrs. Collins an enviable popularity, and to do much 
 good. We need just such books books that portray the vices of fashionable 
 life that show how the first step is taken toward ruin 
 
 " Our authoress follows her characters through all the stages of their degra 
 dation and guilt. She goes with them to the Five Points, to the Tombs, and 
 
 to the Hospital She takes us with her to the drunkard's home. 
 
 She tells of the hunger and the fear, the toil and the suifering that are there. 
 She paints, with a woman's delicate skill, the meek patience, the long-abused, 
 but unchanging love of the drunkard's wife. In such delineations, she seems 
 peculiarly at home. She touches the deepest chords of the heart, and makes 
 them vibrate with pity and with indignation." 
 
 Gazette. 
 
 " Presented with a power and vividness which, we hope, will be sufficient TO 
 cause many a reader already treading in this fatal path, to turn back ere it 
 oecomes impossible to avoid the destruction to which it leads."
 
 MOORE, ANDERSON & CO.S PUBLICATIONS. 
 
 New Albany Tribune. 
 
 " MRS. BEN DARBY, OR THE WEAL AND WOE OF SOCIAL LIFE. By A. MARIA 
 COLLINS. Cincinnati, MOORE, ANDERSON & Co. Though Mrs. COLLINS has 
 already hosts of admirers of her literary productions, this work, we predict, 
 will increase that number ten- fold, and give her a reputation worthy of her 
 high talents. Mrs. BEN DARBY is a moral and temperance story, and presents, 
 in vivid and life-like pictures, the foibles of social life, and the evils which 
 follow the footsteps of those who ' tarry long at the wine.' The OBJECTS of the 
 work deserve the highest praise. While it is highly instructive from its moral 
 teachings, it contains all the interest that is usually thrown around works of 
 fiction by our best writers." 
 
 Presbyterian of the West. 
 
 "A deeply interesting, and in passages of it, a powerful work. It vividly 
 portrays some of the terrific exploits of strong drink in both high and low 
 life. Nor are such scenes, as it depicts, either imaginary or few. God's bright 
 sun and beautiful stars look down perpetually on many such, all over our coun - 
 try. Slavery, hateful as it is, is less a curse to body and soul than Intempe 
 rance. Nothing degrades the whole man so low beneath the very brutes, as rum. 
 
 " Let this book circulate. It has a beneficent aim, and is the vehicle- of ad 
 mirably told, and most salutary lessons." 
 
 Times. 
 
 " The volume before us is as unquestionable an outgrowth of the Maine Law 
 excitement, as ' Uncle Tom's Cabin' was of that against the Fugitive Slave 
 Bill. Each is less a creature of the author's individual mind, than of the pres 
 sure of popular opinion. Each are equally hearty protests against wrong and 
 injustice. There is in both the same unflinching grappling with the terrible 
 facts; evincing remarkable courage in a woman. Shunning nothing that can 
 add a new terror to the tale of misery, the authoress of Mrs. Ben Darby haa 
 followed the vice of drunkenness to all its haunts, and has sketched it in its 
 daintiest form of fascination, as well as in its grim and dismal aspect of open 
 degradation. Barely has a woman ventured to hold the torch to such a dark 
 
 recess of human woe." 
 
 Dayton Empire. 
 
 " It contains life-like sketches of American Society written in a style which 
 cannot fail to interest the reader. We took it up, designing to give it a hasty 
 glance to note the style and drift of the author but found it so captivating 
 that we read the whole before quitting it." 
 
 Daily Ancient metropolis. 
 
 " Her thrilling sketches of the results of intemperance harrow up the very 
 6oul. To those who hope to see their country imitating that proud contempt 
 for lust and wine so remarkable in the early days of our great prototype, the 
 Eoman Eepublic, rather than that disgraceful surrender to them which hast 
 ened her decadence, we would commend this interesting work, as presenting 
 fresh incentives for exertion toward so glorious a result." 
 Journal and Messenger. 
 
 " We commenced glancing through this book professionally, and with reluctance. As we 
 proceeded, we were fascinated with its witching descriptions of nature, its vivid concep 
 tions, its startling scenes, its master-skill in the delineation of character. The author un 
 doubtedly possesses great genius in these departments of writing in dramatic construction. 
 We know of no passage, anywhere, more uniquely beautiful more intensely absorbing 
 more masterly in delineation more terrific more overpowering in the pathetic, than the 
 thirty-fourth chapter. It is indeed a Gem. We doubt whether the celebrated chapter de 
 voted to the death of Eva, in Uncle Tom's Cabin, is superior. * * * * It is certainly the 
 most powerful temperance tale that we ever perused."
 
 MOORE, ANDERSON, & CO.'S PUBLICATIONS. 
 
 THREE GREAT TEMPTATIONS! 
 
 Second Thousand in One Month!!! 
 
 THE THREE GREAT TEMPTATIONS OF YOUNG MEN 
 With several Lectures addressed to Business and Professional 
 Men : By SAMUEL W. FISHER, 1 vol. 12mo., pp. 336. $1. 
 
 CONTENTS. 
 
 THE SIRENS, THE SLATER OP THE STRONG, 
 
 THE WINE-CUP, THE PLAY-HOUSE, 
 
 THE CARD-TABLE, THE WEB OF VICE, 
 
 THE CHRISTIAN LAWYER, THE PATH OF INFIDELITY, 
 
 THE MOSAIC LAW OF USURY, COMMERCIAL MORALITY. 
 
 "A WORK of unusual attraction. We know not where to have seen these subjects so im- 
 piessively, yet so properly and guardedly examined. Far above common-place specimens. 
 They expose dangers of terrible imminence, and urge persuasions of incomparable impor 
 tance, in a way that offends not the taste, yet reaches the heart and engages the thoughts." 
 JV. T. Evangelist. 
 
 "ABLE and often eloquent. * * * A work which may well be put into the hands of 
 youth just entering upon life." N. Y. Observer. 
 
 " WE shall put the book by upon one of the choice shelves of our private library." Bos 
 ton Gmgregationalist. 
 
 " THE author's style is not less clear and forcible than ornate and eloquent." Detroit 
 Herald. 
 
 "CHARACTERIZED by earnestness, eloquence, and adaptation to the end had in view." N". 
 T. Recorder. 
 
 " PAINTS in vigorous language the horrible consequences of vice." Boston. Post. 
 
 " WE would that every young man in the land could be persuaded to read it carefully." 
 Louisville Recorder. 
 
 "DR. Fisher has spoken honestly and boldly. * * * Characterized by great energy 
 of thought, a free and copious style, and by a spirit of high Christian philanthropy." 
 Puritan Recorder. 
 
 " HAS proceeded boldly where most public teachers aro too timid to venture, and his 
 manly plainness is also marked by prudence, and true delicacy.'" Presbyterian oftlte West. 
 
 "WRITTEN in a style most inviting to youth and worthy of a very wide circulation." 
 Cincinnati Ch. Herald. 
 
 " WILL do much good to that great class of young men who, reared in the country, are 
 daily transferred to the cities and make up their effective population." Worcester (Mass.) 
 Palladium. 
 
 " MR. Fisher speaks pointedly and plainly. Let young men listen and learn." Philadel 
 phia Presbyterian. 
 
 "WORTHY of an attentive perusal." Philadelphia Observer. 
 
 " THE man, who sits down to the perusal of this volume, must rise up wiser and better, 
 if there be any virtue in good counsel beautifully and touchingly given," Madison Gowr'r. 
 
 " THE style is bold, manly, and vigorous, and in some portions very beautiful. * * * In 
 the name of the young men of our cities, we thank Dr. Fisher for preparing and sending 
 forth so timely a volume." Presbyterian Herald. 
 
 " The teachings of the excellent preacher will be regarded as unfashionable, and so they 
 are, but their value is no less certain, and their practical workings cannot but be vastly 
 beneficial to the tone of society." .ZV. Y. Daily Times.
 
 THE FOOT-PRINTS OF THE CREATOR ; or, the Asterolepsis of Stromness, 
 with numerous illustrations. By HUGH MILLER, author of " The Old Red Sandstone," 
 &c. From the third London Edition. With a Memoir of the author, by Louis AQASSIZ. 
 12mo cloth,.... 1,00 
 
 DR. BUCKLAND, at a meeting of the British Association, said he had never been so much aston 
 ished in his life, by the powers of any man, as he had been by the geological descriptions of Mr. 
 Miller. That wonderful man described these objects with a facility which made him ashamed of 
 the comparative meagreness and poverty of his own descriptions in the " Bridgewater Treatise," 
 which had cost him hours and days of labor. He would give his left hand to possess such power* 
 of description as this man; and if it pleased Providence to spare his useful life, he, if any one. 
 would certainly render science attractive and popular, and do equal service to theology and geology. 
 
 " Mr. Miller's style is remarkably pleasing; his mode of popularizing geological knowledge un 
 surpassed, perhaps unequalled; and the deep reverence for Divine Revelation pervading all, adda 
 interest and value to the volume." Sew York Com. Advertiser. 
 
 " The publishers have again covered themselves with honor, by giving to the American public, 
 with the Author's permission, an elegant reprint of a foreign work of science. We earnestly 
 bespeak for this work a wide and free circulation, among all who love science much and religion 
 more." Puritan Recorder, 
 
 THE OLD RED SANDSTONE ; or, New Walks in an Old Field. By HUGH MILLER. 
 Illustrated with Plates and Geological Sections. 12mo cloth, . . . .1,00 
 
 " Mr. Miller's exceedingly interesting book on this formation is just the sort of work to render 
 ny subject popular. It is written in a remarkably pleasing style, and contains a wonderful 
 amount of information." Westminster Review. 
 
 elegant. It contains the results of twenty years close observation and experiment, resulting in an 
 accumulation of facts, which not only dissipate some dark and knotty old theories with regard to 
 ancient formations, but establish the great truths of geology in more perfect and harmonious con 
 sistency with the great truths of revelation." Albany Spectator. 
 
 PRINCIPLES OF ZOOLOGY : Touching the Structure, Development, Distribution, 
 and Natural Arrangement of the RACES OF ANIMALS living and extinct, with numerous 
 illustrations. For the use of Schools and Colleges. Part I., COMPARATIVE PHYSIOLOGY. 
 By Louis AGASSIZ and AUGUSTUS A. GOULD. Revised edition. 12mo,. . .cloth, 1,00 
 
 * This work places us in possession of information half a century in advance of all our elemec 
 tary works on this subject. * * No work of the same dimensions has ever appeared in the 
 English language, containing so much new and valuable information on the subject of which it 
 treats." Prof. James Hall, in the Albany Journal. 
 
 " A work emanating from so high a source hardly requires commendation to give it currency. 
 The volume is prepared for the student in zoological science ; it is simple and elementary in it* 
 style, full in its illustrations, comprehensive in its range, yet well condensed, and brought into the 
 narrow compass requisite for the purpose Intended." Silliman's Journal. 
 
 u The work may safely be recommended as the best book of the kind In our language." CArt* 
 tian Examiner. 
 
 " It is not a mere book, but a work a real work in the form of a book. Zoology is an interesting 
 science, and here is treated with a masterly hand. The history, anatomical structure, the nature 
 and habits of numberless animals, are described in clear and plain language and illustrated with 
 innumerable engravings. It is a work adapted to colleges and schools, and no young man should 
 be without it." Scientific American. 
 
 PRINCIPLES OF ZOOLOGY, PART II. Systematic Zoology, in which the Prin 
 ciples of Classification are applied, and the principal groups of animals are briefly 
 characterized. With numerous illustrations. 12mo, [in preparation]
 
 MOORE & ANDERSON'S PUBLICATIONS. 
 STRAWBERRY AND GRAPE CU1/FURE. 
 
 MOORE & ANDERSO-N have just published a small volume 
 of one hundred and forty-two pages, 12 mo., entitled THE CUL 
 TURE OF THE GRAPE AND WINE MAKING, by Robert Buchanan, 
 Member of the Cincinnati Horticultural Society, with an Ap 
 pendix, containing DIRECTIONS FOR THE CULTIVATION OF THK 
 STRAWBERRY, by N. Long-worth. Put up for sending by mail, 
 in flexible cloth ; price 50 cents ; cloth, usual style, 62-^ cents. 
 
 This volume should be in the hands of every cultivator of these delicious 
 fruits. For it embodies, in a compact and available form, the experience of 
 accomplished and practical Horticulturists on subjects which have come di 
 rectly under their own observation for a long series of years. 
 
 Of a former edition of "Buchanan on the Grape," published by the 
 author, mainly for the convenience of himself and his friends, we subjoin 
 a few 
 
 N O T I C J 8 OF THE PRESS. 
 
 Mr. Downing, in his Horticulturist says : " It deals more with facts, ac 
 tual experience, and observation, and less with speculation, supposition and 
 belief, than anything on this topic that has yet appeared in the United States 
 In other words, a man may take it, and plant a vineyard, and raise grapes 
 with success. 
 
 "Furnishes, in a small space, a very great amount of instructive informa 
 tion relative to the culture of the Grape. Farmer's and Planter's Encyclo 
 pedia. 
 
 " Will be found to convey the most opportune and valuable instruction, 
 to all interested in the subject." Neill's Fruit and Flower Garden. 
 
 MOORE & ANDERSON, Publishers, 
 
 28 West Fourth Street, Cincinnati. 
 
 BORROWS ROVING ADVENTURES; By GEO. BORROW, 
 Author of "The Gipsies in Spain," " The Bible in Spain," etc. 
 With fine portrait. Large type. Complete in one beautiful oc 
 tavo volume. Pp. 550. 
 
 " He colors like Rembrandt, and draws like Spagnoletti." Edinburgh 
 Review. 
 
 "The pictures are so new that those best acquainted with England will 
 find it hard to recognize the land they may have traveled over." National 
 Intelligencer. 
 
 " We could hardly sleep at night for thinking of it." Blackicood,
 
 TH E PSALM 1ST : a New Collection of HYMNS for the use of the Baptist Churches By 
 BARON STOW and S. F. SMITH. 
 
 Pulpit edition 12mo, (large type,) Turkey morocco, gilt edges, . . . .3,00 
 
 " " 12mo, " " plain morocco,.... 1,50 
 
 12mo, " " sheep, 1,25 
 
 Pew, " 18mo, sheep,.... ,75 
 
 " " 18mo...... morocco,.... 1,00 
 
 " " 18mo morocco, gilt,.... 1,25 
 
 " " 18mo, Turkey morocco, gilt,.... 2,62 % 
 
 Pocket, " 32mo, sheep,.... ,563* 
 
 " " 32mo, morocco, plain,.... ,75 
 
 " " 32mo, morocco, gilt, ,83^ 
 
 " " 32mo, embossed morocco, gilt edges,.... 1,00 
 
 " " 32mo, tucks, gilt,.... 1,25 
 
 " " 82mo , Turkey morocco, 1,50 
 
 THE PSALMIST, WITH A SUPPLEMENT. By K. FULLER, and J. B. JETER. 
 Same price ; style and size as above. 
 
 THE SOCIAL PSALMIST ; a new Selection of Hymns.for Conference Meetings and 
 Family Devotion. By BAEON STOW and S. F. SMITH. 18mo, sheep, ,25 
 
 WINCHELL'S WATTS, with a Supplement. 12mo sheep ,60 
 
 32mo, sheep, .... ,67 
 
 WATTS AND RIPPON. 32mo, sheep,.... ,66# 
 
 18mo, 
 
 THE CHRISTIAN MELODIST ; a new Collection of Hymns for Social Religious 
 Worship. By Rev. JOSEPH BASVARD. With a choice selection of Music, adapted to the 
 Hymns. 18mo, sheep, ,37 % 
 
 THE SACRED MINSTREL; a Collection of Church Music, consisting of Psalm and 
 Hymn Tunes, Anthems, Sentences, Chants, &c., selected from the most popular produc 
 tions of nearly one hundred different authors, in this and other countries. By N. D. 
 GOULD, ,75 
 
 COMPANION FOR THE PSALMIST; containing original Music, arranged for 
 Hymns in " The Psalmist," of peculiar character and metre. By N.I). GOULD,.... ,12) 
 
 JEWETTON BAPTISM. The Mode and Subjects of Baptism. By M. P. JEWBTT. 
 A. M., late Minister of the Presbyterian Church. Twelfth thousand. cloth,.... ,25 
 
 JUDSON ON BAPTISM. A Discourse on Christian Baptism ; with many quotations 
 from Pcdobaptist Authors. By ADONIRAM JUDSON, D. D. Fifth edition, revised and 
 enlarged cloth,.... ,25 
 
 ESSAY ON CHRISTIAN BAPTISM, By BAPTIST W. NOEL. 16mo,... cloth ,60 
 
 BIBLE BAPTISM. A beautiful Steel Engraving, nine by twelve inches in size, repre 
 senting in the centre a Church and a Baptismal scene, &c., and in the margin are ar 
 ranged all the texts of Scripture found in the New Testament alluding to the subject of 
 Baptism. An elegant ornamental picture for the parlor, ,25
 
 ELEMENTS OF MORAL SCIENCE, by FRANCIS WAYLAND, D. D., President of 
 Brown University, and Professor of Moral Philosophy. Forty-seventh thousand. 
 12mo, cloth, 1,25 
 
 MORAL SCIENCEABRIDGED, and adapted to the use of Schools and Academies, by 
 the Author. Thirtieth thousand, halfmor.... ,50 
 
 The same, CHEAP SCHOOL EDITION, .boards,.... ,25 
 
 This .work is used in the Boston Schools, and is exceedingly popular as a text book wherever it 
 has been adopted. 
 
 ELEMENTS OF POLITICAL EC NOMY, by FRANCIS WAYLAICD, D. D. Twenty- 
 first thousand. 12mo, cloth,.... 1,25 
 
 POLITICAL ECONOMY ABRIDGED, and adapted to the use of Schools and 
 Academies, by the Author. Seventh thousand, halfmor ,50 
 
 The above works by Dr. Wayland, are used as Text Books in most of the Colleges and higher 
 Schools throughout the Union, and are highly approved. 
 
 PALEY'S NATURAL THEOLOGY. llustrated by forty Plates, with selections 
 from the Notes of Dr. Paxton, and additional Notes, original and selected, with a Vocab 
 ulary of Scientific Terms. Edited by JOHN WARE, M. D. 12mo half mor 1,25 
 
 ROMAN ANTIQUITIES AND ANCIENT MYTHOLOGY; by C. K. DILLAWAY. 
 Illustrated by elegant Engravings. Eighth edition, improved. 12mo. .half mor. ... ,67 
 
 THE YOUNG LADIES' CLASS BOOK ; a Selection of Lessons for Beading, in 
 Prose and Verse. By EBENEZER BAILEY, A. M. Fifty-second edition,.. half mor.... ,84 
 
 BLAKE'S NATURAL PHILOSOPHY: being Conversations on Philosophy, with 
 Explanatory Notes, Questions for Examination, and a Dictionary of Philosophical Terms, 
 with twenty-sight steel Engravings. By J. L. BLAKE, D. D.,. sheep. . . . ,67 
 
 BLAKE'S FIRST BOOK IN ASTRONOMY : designed for the use of Common 
 
 Schools. Illustrated with steel-plate Engravings. By JOHN L. BLAKE, D. D, 
 
 half bound ,50 
 
 FIRST LESSONS IN INTELLECTUAL PHILOSOPHY; or a Familiar Explan 
 ation of the Nature and Operations of the Human Mind. By SILAS BLAISDALE, 
 
 I sheep,.... ,84 
 
 THE CICERONIAN ; or, the Prussian Method of Teaching the Elements of the 
 Latin Language. Adapted to the use of American Schools. By Professor B. SEARS, 
 Secretary of Massachusetts Board of Education. 18mo half mor. ... ,60 
 
 VI EM OR I A TECH NIC A ; or, the Art of Abbreviating those Studies which give the 
 greatest labor to the Memory ; including Numbers, Historical Dates, Geography, Astron 
 omy, Gravities, &c. By L. D. JOHNSON. Second edition, revised and improved, 
 
 half bound,.... ,60 
 
 PROGRESSIVE PENMANSHIP, Plain and Ornamental, for the use of Schools. By 
 
 N. D. GOULD, author of " Beauties of Writing," " Writing Master's Assistant," etc 
 
 in five parts, each .... ,12> 
 
 LETTER SHEET SIZE of the above in four books, stiff covers, each. . . 20 
 
 The copies are arranged in progressive series, and are likewise so diversified by the introduction 
 of variations in style, so as to command the constant attention and exercise the ingenuity f the 
 learner, thus removing some of the most serious obstacles to the success of the teacher. Aey are 
 divided into FIVE SEBIES, intended for the like number of books, and are so arranged and folded 
 that a copy always comes over the top of the page on which it is to be written. 
 
 There are ninety-six copies, presenting a regular inductive system of Penmanship for ordinary 
 business purposes, followed by examples of every variety of Ornamental Writing. 
 
 - This work is introduced into many of the Boston Public and Private Schools, and gives 
 universal satisfaction. 
 
 WRITING COPIES, Plain and Ornamental, from the "Progressive Penmanship," bound 
 in one book, 16?
 
 THE EARTH AND MAN : Lectures on COMPARATIVE PHYSICAL GEOGRAPHY, in its 
 relation to the History of Mankind. By ARNOLD GUYOT, Professor of Physical Geography 
 and History, Neuchatel. Translated from the French, by Prof. C. C. FELTON, with illus 
 trations. Second thousand. 12mo cloth 1,25 
 
 " Those who have been accustomed to regard Geography as a merely descrip4ve branch of learn 
 ing, drier than the remainder biscuit after a voyage, will be delighted to find this hitherto un 
 attractive pursuit converted into a science, the principles of which are definite and the results 
 conclusive." North American Review. 
 
 " The grand idea of the work is happily expressed by the author, where he calls it the geograph 
 ical march of history. Faith, science, learning, poetry, taste, in a word, genius, have liberally 
 contributed to the production of the work under review. Sometimes we feel as if we were 
 studying a treatise on the exact sciences ; at others, it strikes the ear like an epic poem. Now it 
 reads like history, and now it sounds like prophecy. It will find readers in whatever language 
 it may be published." Christian Examiner. 
 
 " The work is one of high merit, exhibiting a wide range of knowledge, great research, and a 
 philosophical spirit of investigation. Its perusal will well repay the most learned in such subjects, 
 and give new views to all, of man's relation to the globe he inhabits." Silliman's Journal. 
 
 COMPARATIVE PHYSICAL AND HISTORICAL GEOGRAPHY; or, the 
 
 Study of the Earth and its Inhabitants. A series of graduated courses for the use of 
 Schools. By ARNOLD GUYOT, author of " Earth and Man," etc. 
 
 The series hereby announced will consist of three courses, adapted to the capacity of three dif 
 ferent ages and periods of study. The first is intended for primary schools, and for children of 
 from seven to ten years. The second is adapted for higher schools, and for young persons of from 
 ten to fifteen years. The third is to be used as a scientific manual in Academies and Colleges. 
 
 Each course will be divided into two parts, one of purely Physical Geography, the otner for Eth 
 nography, Statistics, Political and Historical Geography. Each part will be illustrated by a colored 
 Physical and Political Atlas, prepared expressly for this purpose, delineating, with the greates 
 care, the configuration of the surface, and the other physical phenomena alluded to in the corres 
 ponding work, the distribution of the races of men, and the political divisions into States, 3-0., $-e 
 
 The two parts of the first or preparatory course are now in a forward state of preparation, anc 
 will be issued at an early day. 
 
 MURAL MAPS: a series of elegant colored Maps, exhibiting the Physical Phenomena 
 of the Globe. Projected on a large scale, and intended to he suspended in the Recitation 
 Boom. By ARNOLD GUYOT [in preparation] 
 
 KITTO'S POPULAR CYCLOP/EDIA OF BIBLICAL LITERATURE. Con 
 densed from the larger work. By JOHN Kirro, D. D., F. S. A., author of " The Pictoral 
 Bible," "History and Physical Geography of Palestine," Editor of "The Journal of 
 Sacred Literature," etc. Assisted by numerous distinguished Scholars and Divines, 
 British, Continental and American. With numerous illustrations. One volume, 
 octavo, 812pp cloth, 3,00 
 
 THK POPCLAB BIBLICAL CYCLOPAEDIA OF LITEBATCBE is designed to furnish a DICTIONARY 
 or THK BIBLE, embodying the products of the best and most recent researches in Biblical Liter 
 ature, in which the Scholars of Europe and America have been engaged. The work, the result 
 of immense labor and research, and enriched by the contributions of writers of distinguished 
 eminence in the various departments of Sacred Literature, has been, by universal consent, 
 pronounced the best work of its class extant ; and the one best suited to the advanced knowledge 
 of the present day in all the studies connected with Theological Science. 
 
 The Cyclopsedia of Biblical Literature from which this work is condensed btr the author, is 
 published in two volumes, rendering it about twice the size of the present work, and is intended, 
 lays the author, more particularly for Ministers and Theological Students ; while the Popular 
 Ci/clopmdia is intended for Parents, Sabbath School Teachers, and the great body of the religiouj 
 public. It has been the author's aim to avoid imparting to the work any color of sectarian 01 
 denominational bias. On such points of difference among Christians, the Historical mode ot 
 treatment has been adopted, and care has been taken to provide a fair account of the argument* 
 which have seemed most conclusive to the ablest advocates of the various opinions. The Pictoral 
 Illustrations amounting to men than three hundred are of the very highest order of th art.
 
 MOORE & ANDERSON'S PUBLICATIONS. 
 
 SERVICE AFLOAT AND ASHORE during the Mexican 
 War: By LIEUT. RAPHAEL SEMMES, U. S. N., late Flag- 
 Lieutenant of the Home Squadron, and Aid-de-camp of 
 Major-General Worth, in the battles of the Valley of Mexico. 
 1 vol. 8vo, $1.75. Illustrated with numerous lithographs, 
 in beautiful style, by Onken, and an official map. 
 
 " HE has given to the public a Yery attractive -work upon Mexico 
 Aself, as well as upon the Mexican "war." Charleston (S. C.) Standard. 
 
 " His original descriptions are drawn with great felicity. He is a 
 lively and spirited narrator. His battle sketches are extremely vivid, 
 and produce a deep impression on the imagination. His pictures of 
 social and domestic life in Mexico are apparently true to nature, and 
 present the attractions of a romance criticises the military operations 
 in a decided partisan spirit, but with evident ability." N. Y. Tribune. 
 
 " HE is bold, capable, and courageous. He can wield a pen or a 
 sword with admirable force and dexterity. * * * As a writer, Lieut 
 Semmes is clear and cogent. The first forty pages of the volume are 
 occupied with a description of Mexico, its government and people ; and 
 we know of no description of the kind, which brings the condition of 
 things in that unhappy country so distinctly before the mind of the 
 reader. The whole volume, as a work of intellect, is worthy of a high 
 place in the department to which it belongs." Louisville Journal. 
 
 "!N remarking upon the various battles and military movements, it 
 indulges neither in indiscriminate praise nor indiscriminate censure. 
 It lauds everybody for something, out none for everything. * * * 
 General Scott is often and highly praised for his surpassing abilities 
 for what he did do in the cause of his country ; yet, Lieut. Semmes asserts 
 that the battle of Churubusco, and its consequent slaughter, was entirely 
 unnecessary, and brings forward arguments to sustain his assertion. 
 He also declares, and brings evidence to the truth of the declaration, 
 that General Scott understood nothing of the real use or strength of the 
 Molinos del Rey, which were so bloodily defended by the Mexicans, and 
 that time and again our successes were owing to the personal ability 
 and valor of subordinates, and not to the much-vaunted foresight and 
 science of the commander-in-chief. With all this, there is no virulence 
 or indiscriminate fault-finding. Lieut. Semmes' book differs from all 
 that have preceded it, and must attract attention. We say, "God defend 
 the right," but let us know what right is, and give honor to whom honor 
 is due." Boston Post. 
 
 " SAILORS are said to be persons of strong prejudices. And it is no 
 small praise to the author, to say that we have never read a history evi 
 dently so fairly written, with regard to the merits of the numerous 
 claimants of military glory. * * * We shall take our sailor and 
 soldier out of the ranks, and see what he has to tell of a more amusing 
 nature than battle fields. * * * After sailing about the Gulf, and 
 cruising from Vera Cruz to Mexico and back again with our author, we 
 have arrived at the conclusion that he is as pleasant a companion as one 
 might desire upon a similar journey, and so commend him to the favor 
 of the reading public." Literary World.
 
 MOORE & ANDERSON'S PUBLICATIONS. 
 
 " Will prove more generally useful, tlian any other work yet 
 
 publistttd on Geology." 
 
 THE COURSE OF CREATION : By JOHN ANDERSON, D. D., of New- 
 burgh, Scotland. With a Glossary of Scientific Terms. 1 vol. 12mo. 
 
 Illustrated, $1.25. 
 
 " IT treats chiefly of the series of rocks between the Alps and the Grampians. It ii 
 thoroughly scientific, but popular in its styl and exceedingly entertaining." Zion't 
 Herald. 
 
 " THE author's style is clear and engaging, and nis graphic descriptions seem to con 
 vey the reader at once into the fields of geological research to observe for himself." 
 Ohio Observer. 
 
 "ANOTHER valuable contribution to the cause of truth and sound science. Its value 
 is very much enhanced by the Glossary of Scientific Terms appended to it by the pub 
 lishers; for scarcely any one of the sciences has a larger number of terms with which 
 ordinary readers are unacquainted than Geology." Presbyterian of the West. 
 
 " WE commend the volume to all who would be instructed in the wonderful works 
 of God. Chapters inch as that on the "Economic History of Coal," and those on "Or 
 ganic Life" and "Physical and Moral Progression," have a special value for the stu 
 dent of divine Providence." JV. Y. Independent. 
 
 "DR. ANDERSON is evidently well skilled in geology, and writes with a freedom 
 and vivacity rivaled by no writer on the subject except Hugh Miller." Methodist 
 Quarterly Review. 
 
 "THIS book is intended for general readers, and such readers will be entertained 
 by it, but it is none the less thorough, and enters boldly into geological inquiry." 
 Boston Advertiser. 
 
 " ONE of the most interesting and valuable works on Geology that we have ever met 
 with. The author is a thoroughly scientific man; but his scientific accuracy does not 
 prevent the work from being understood by unscientific readers, it is a very readable 
 book." Louisville Journal. 
 
 " BY read ing this book a person can obtain a general knowledge of the whole subject." 
 Western Star. 
 
 * Highly honorable to the writer and honorable to the publishers." Boston 
 Congregationalist. 
 
 "THIS valuable volume was printed. r*s well as published, in Cincinnati; and it 
 speaks as well for the literary society of that city, as for the enterprise of the publish 
 ers, and the taste and skill of the typographer." Boston Post. 
 
 " IT is one of the significant signs of the times that we should be receiving a work 
 like this, from a city that had scarcely an existence fifty years ago, got up in a style 
 of elegance, that ranks it beside the finest issues of the publishing houses of Boston 
 and New York. This fact, however, is but the smallest element of interest that attaches 
 to the volume. It is one of those noble contributions to natural science, in its relation 
 to revealed religion, which in the writings of Hugh Miller, King, Brewster, anil others 
 have conferred new luster on the honored name of Scotland. * * The concluding 
 chapter is a sublime questioning of Geology, as to the testimony she gives lo a Creator, 
 somewhat after the manner of the Scholia, to Newton's Principia, and is one of the 
 noblest portions of the work." Richmond, Pa., Wvtchman and Observer. 
 
 "THE science of Geology is attracting more and more attention. * That 
 whicn was once a gigantic chaos, has become developed into a system beautifully sym 
 metrical, and infinitely grand." Mercantile Courier.
 
 UNIVERSITY OF CALIFORNIA LIBRARY 
 
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